Showing posts with label broken ipod blues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label broken ipod blues. Show all posts

Sunday 13 March 2011

Lou Reed - 'Sad Song' (1973)


I'm gonna stop wastin' my time
Somebody else would have broken both of her arms


   Sadness for the weekend? Perhaps this inappropriate, ever moving threnody is on my mind due to the tsunami tragedy of Japan that has occupied hearts and columns of late. Elizabeth Avedon is currently promoting a charitable auction of photographic works for the cause. Mayhap others will follow

  Funny what other interrelated trivia comes to mind - 'Sad Song' was sampled by the plagiaristic yet innovative Japanese under-to-overground pop stars Flipper's Guitar (the training ground for my favourite recording artist, Cornelius) as part of their psychedelic song cycle, 'The World Tower,' produced by Salon Music's Zin Yoshida

   Spent energy, bitterness, ruing, catharsis; bitter pills don't come much sweeter than this

Thursday 14 October 2010

Basement Jaxx - Kish Kash (2003)


   Speaking of my past self, I am invoking him today to review my favourite record by the Brixton-based dance pioneers. This is my writing style of six years ago; a funny collection of tics, to be sure:
   Kish Kash didn't take much deliberation to make my number one [best album from 2000 - 2004], for it is everything Basement Jaxx is; everything that makes them compelling, surprising, frenetic, starry-eyed, intuitive and above all, just themselves. This is particularly apparent when you've come to terms with the consistency in the album's running order and the way it bursts not only with sounds but with life.
   Like Cornelius['s Point] and The Avalanches[' Since I Left You] (my no's 3 and 2, respectively), there's so much going on that if you don't take time to listen around, you might miss it (but thank God for the RWD button). Not only the sounds of the 3-parties-in-one that are 'Right Here's The Spot', 'Plug It In', 'Cish Cash' and 'Lucky Star' and the Jaxx's all-out Voltron-assembly of pop songs, Prince-outs and mismatched but purposeful sonic chaos, but the things they do to their special guests. In-between spitting catchphrases on every verse, Dizzee Rascal sounds like the electrodes attached to his secret places are working overtime, Me'shell flirts with a gender identity crisis that she can't conceal her enjoyment over, Totlyn deploys a winning bid for Queen (or King) Scatter of 2003, JC further hints at his growing case of Schizophrenia, his emergent tender sleaziness and his desire to be the most Purple teen idol ever, and erotic pleasure belies Siouxsie's dominatrix cries of "YOU'RE INSATIABLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEE!" And I'll be damned if I'm not. I don't want to miss a thing.
Recommended tracks: Good Luck, Plug It In, Lucky Star, Cish Cash
  

   I also had the great pleasure of seeing them perform twice in support of this record in December 2003, where Felix Buxton, Simon Ratcliffe and their carnival-spirited live band dynamically impelled their music into more frenetic but ever compelling arrangements - a warehouse party for the world stage, to be sure. However, it cannot be denied that in spite of the spirited renditions by their fill-in live singers, each special guest on the album utterly made their songs their own. Not surprisingly, the Jaxx spent part of the time between this album and their fourth as jobbing music producers, creating or remixing some underrated, would-be chart burners for the likes of Chasez and Lady Sovereign

   It remains highly recommended, by the way

Sunday 19 September 2010

Research Turtles - Research Turtles (2009)


   So Research Turtles decided to send me their album gratis. And when it finally surmounted its rivals on my To-Do List, I settled down to take in some studiously hewn, power pop-infused rock by four young fellows from Lake Charles, Louisiana, who could not be more pleased to be calling their own tune. Moreover, they also happen to be dab hands at playing it - this, along with the following they are conscientiously amassing on the stage and through the interweb, should make a sizeable bargaining chip for any future recording contract

   In the meantime, the band has a craft to hone

   Jud and Joe Norman, the mop top brothers, share vocals and commandeer the bass and guitar, respectively, in a well oiled machine that is also formed from the excellently named Logan Fontenot, lead guitarist, and Blake Thibodeaux on drums and percussion, with Wes Anderson's Bill Murray-led The Life Aquatic inspiring the group's sobriquet and detailed, intuitive and heavy production from Justin Tocket. With such telegenic qualities, the four-piece have covered much ground in their bid to live up to their self-assumed mantle of "America's Newest Hit Makers," although I might suggest developing an addiction or five in order to efficiently generate the salacious tabloid material that would come with the territory



   Five-star status is normally greatly difficult to effectuate with a debut record, and in the interests of disclosure, Research Turtles The Album is no different - it holds much promise and delivers on it across the vast majority of the songs, but now and again, one hears the sound of a band starting to coalesce into a combo of worth rather than arriving at that place already. This is normally the result of Jud Nelson's songwriting rather than any flaws in the group's performances; 'The Riff Song,' for example, is realised in an endearing fashion of confident musicianship - and also strongly resembles Rage Against The Machine's indelible 'Killing in the Name' - but ironically, the songwriting is somewhat subordinated to the Riff itself when they could, and should, work as an equal partnership. 'Break My Fall,' the only other song I felt to be lacking enough for nitpicking, also sounds a touch sluggish in spite of its on-paper successes of decent riffing and relatively uncomplicated songcraft, which seems to be down to the unattractive vocal delivery and a main hook that is a little too languid to be greatly compelling - the lively jamming that occurs within two minutes literally resuscitates the song into a form of enthusiastic life

   Nevertheless, I really like what the four are capable of, thus far. By working within the tried and true framework of classic rock, and threading together influences from the fields of New Wave, psychedelia, AM pop, surf harmonies and touches of British melody (that which I usually like to refer to as "Kinksian"), the formula they offer is bright, immediate, mostly upbeat and unabashedly built for lingering when the record has long ceased playing. It's also, as the band allude to themselves, staunchly American - deceptively simple, rooted in rock history, attuned to hooks in their purest form, and polished to a self-assured, radio friendly sheen


  The bands the album evoked in my mind vary from the obvious to the recondite to the slightly unfashionable, and whilst the likes of The Knack, middle-period rock Cornelius (himself a grab bag of classic rock inflections done his own way), Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath's riff mastery, The Sweet, Shonen Knife and The Ramones are easy associations, I was surprised to find a  contemplative moment such as 'Kiss Her Goodbye' to be somewhat redolent of Ben Folds Five, a band, I should state, that I have always categorised as a genuine pleasure; never a guilty one. Truthfully, one can link a number of the Research Turtles' songs to those of older bands; the one I found most unexpected was 'Into A Hole's sonic link to Weezer's 'Susanne,' though the notion that the two bands share anything in common is easily confirmed somewhere between the start of the subtly enticing, groovy opener 'Let's Get Carried Away' and the midway point of spirited, future teen movie soundtrack classic in its own right, 'Mission'

   I particularly appreciate the foursome's refusal to maintain straight-ahead structures, as heard in highlights like the ska-kissed 'Tomorrow's Beatle-esque bridge and the micro rave-ups and gliding codas seeded within otherwise traditional power pop and radio-ready rock numbers like 'A Feeling' and the aforementioned 'Break My Fall.' Such jams go quite a ways to cementing Research Turtles' instrumental credibility. But never let it be said that these young men do not know how to enjoy themselves - my other favourites include their abandoned, amiably rocking party starters, 'Damn,' '925' and 'Cement Floor,' where the group's upbeat rock'n'roll tendencies are in perfect sync with their vigorous playing, simple singing and unfussy delivery



   I've never met them, but if fortune favours them, they might have the brightest futures of anyone else I've encountered this year. Good luck to them all



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Research Turtles can be downloaded at no charge here. Their MySpace fiefdom is also present and correct

Friday 17 September 2010

Matryoshka - 'Evening Gleam Between Clouds' (2007)



Matryoshka is a Tokyo, Japan based band consisting of the track maker Sen and the female vocalist Calu. During the days when they were playing in the band Parachute Coats, their material was released as a 7 inch vinyl by a fan in Netherlands and received good attention in the club scene there. Only a year after the band was formed, they had already received sponsorship offers from Yamaha and were digitally distributed on their download site.

Their music can be described as Modern Classical, IDM, and Experimental.

Wednesday 1 September 2010

The Cake - 'You Can Have Him' (1967)

   Decades before Sugababes achieved a mild flavour of notoriety for performing their debut single on Top of The Pops with an unsmiling archness, the world birthed this:



   My sentiments regarding The Cake's showmanship could only appear trite; this Manson-James Brown-Ronettes hybridising should only happen in the theatre. What's so delicious about this performance is that it did not

   For unconventional band mascot/ensemble dark horse-status, the impassive baby doll that was Jeanette Jacobs is right up there with ABC's homosexual, Kid Swifty Lazar-esque midget, David Yarritu

Monday 9 August 2010

Sergei Rachmaninoff - 'Vocalise, Op. 34 No. 14' (1912)



   Whenever I'd like a feeling of equanimity, this sort of piece normally helps. It is particularly notable for containing no words other than "ah"

   This performance was conducted by Leopold Stokowski and sung by Anna Moffo

Thursday 22 July 2010

Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood - 'Down From Dover' (1972)



   I never much took to The Go! Team, that irrepressible band of racket-making Brighton-hailing noiseniks who suggested a 21st century vision of Big Beat by removing all of the lager and amyl-fuelled white boy funk angst and replacing it with lo-fi, rarely refined, twee day-glo white boy funk angst instead. Never have I heard anyone so brazenly eject all nuance, charm and surprise from the careers of the Dust Brothers and the musicians behind the soundtracks of The Littlest Hobo, Highway to Heaven, The Waltons and Knight Rider, and get away with toddler-level raps and a desperate sheen of Americanisation that even Sasha Baron Cohen would find challenging to satirise. Actually, never have I heard a band more indebted to the quality of its source material

   The point of the above is that 'Ladyflash', one of the band's very few shining moments, was not responsible for introducing me to Sinatra and Hazlewood's duet-based Dolly Parton cover, though the tight, splendid musicianship of their version goes a way to explaining how those noiseniks could not screw it up

   For all the megrims of 'Down From Dover's abandonment-and-miscarriage-based narrative, it is almost concerningly pleasurable to listen to. Counteracting its misery is an almost upbeat, almost bluegrass funk-like take on the original's campfire tale music, leavened with wistful-sad strings, a relaxed strum of country guitar and temperate horns that suggest an equanimous state of mind: "This may be a sad story, but in Life, as you know, sometimes tragedy will sandbag you. It's best to get on with it." This sentiment likely suits the late Mr. Hazlewood, who, when not letting the Chivas Regal flow, spent his days rejecting most notions of fame and  later perambulating like a vagabond across Europe and the United States, dodging the income tax where he could

   Lee's throaty, almost growling rumble easily projects a hint of his character's unreliability that telegraphs the unhappy ending before his first line has ended, but Nancy's tremulous delivery is the standout; keyed into the same desperate emotionalism that makes Dolly's performance so memorable, she twists it by building towards a dance around lachrymosity as the story reaches its climax. With Hazlewood's errant lover to respond to, her reading takes on an equally desperate, but less desolate and more resolved tone, clutching to a bruised brand of hope until the final moment of devastation and disappointment arrives

   And then the song quickly fades to silence. Another journey through another complicated life is complete, but the road, as evoked by the music's laidback essence, winds its way on

   We couldn't have it any other way

Friday 11 June 2010

Cornelius (コーネリアス) - 'Ball In-Kick Off' (1998, Live)

And it's a fair haired, slight balding Charlton to Kick Off, Ball In - Kick Off

   In recognition of what day it is, Let The Games Begin

   Five years ago, my ILM friends and I once cultivated our own themed compilations. I forget the reasons for it, but we sought to acquaint each other with the sound recordings that, to us, aligned with the premise of each collection

   Geeks make the best musical archivists, after all

   The title of the collection that I submitted this for might be obvious. You've perhaps seen the way that I dress - what other subject could I have a particular musical view on than Maximalism?


   My review drips with dork cachet, but then I was almost satirically effusive in my writing during those days, usually because my fellows were genuinely so in theirs

   Of course, this artist is one of my inspirations. With him, my effervescence tends to be warranted

Friday 21 May 2010

Kahimi Karie - 'A Fantastic Moment' (1995)




   The charm of following a polymathic musician is in the phases they experience, always casting off their previous manifestations as definitive statements on their transitory fancies

   In 1995, Mari 'Kahimi Karie (カヒミ・カリィ)' Hiki and Keigo 'Cornelius (コーネリアス)' Oyamada were in something of a shared romantique nostalgia, or a relationship, to you and I. The Girlfriend was something of a sylph with a singing voice more incisively described as an airless, tranquil whisper, whose luminescent face, stoic demeanour and protean imagery that included Rococo opulence, French Mod Sex Kitten and Tokyo demureness made her a star; The Woman of a Thousand Fantasies, if you will

   The Boyfriend was running one of the trendiest yet most substantive record labels in the world - Trattoria Records - touring, remixing, producing and playing when he could and collaborating on portable record players, G-Shock models and other playthings that bore his brand. His latest incarnation at that time was an idiosyncratic bouillabaisse of 1960s psychedelia, 1970s heavy metal (he was a self-taught guitarist who developed through playing Kiss records), 1980s hip hop and 1990s electronic noise; at once the classic Japanese refiner of Western developments and the alien refractor of cultural traditions that he interacted with from afar

   Today's selection shows them in a very deliberate Gainsbourg and Birkin-like reverie; aside from their romantic status at the time, Karie can also speak French and English, and the 1960s and 1970s were rather a la mode in the Shibuya-Kei landscape of foreign musical history made modern day blended pop. Oyamada has long been an arbiter at home; his diverse musical knowledge threaded itself through every record he was involved in, no matter what year it was

   In either flavour, 'A Fantastic Moment' is probably one of the most beautiful pieces of music either has released. You barely even notice the Lou Reed sample


   A translation:

We run, cutting straight through the wind
Nothing can stop us as we head straight for hope
We might find it over on that hill maybe, I hope...

La la la when you gently take my hand
Everything around us changes to perfection
All of the world's sunlight shining just for me and you

...And the bugs, they laugh...
...Melting into the ground...

The two of us can do anything. Right?
See, we can even jump over that rainbow.

...And the time stands still...
...The flowers are waving...

The two of us are laughing high above the clouds
Our laughter leaking down as sun beams in the forest
Just now the rain of sadness is turning into a rainbow

Away with the gloom
The grass gently waves
And the birds peacefully fall to sleep

One day...everything...I hope...

Friday 14 May 2010

Disco Inferno - 'Starbound: All Burnt Out And Nowhere To Go' (1994)

   A rare example of a fan complementing the pleasing harmonic dissonance of his seminal, Should Have Been Greater heroes with an appealing visual garnish:


   Their practice of playing their instruments through samplers and giving themselves over to a certain stylistic abstraction makes them something of an antecedent to other rock curios such as Battles. I highly recommend sourcing any of the band's work, including this selection's parent album, D.I. Go Pop

Sunday 2 May 2010

Gwen Guthrie - 'Hopscotch' (Larry Levan Remix) (1983)

Why worry about protean weather when we have disco?

Wednesday 21 April 2010

Monday 19 April 2010

Supergrass - 'We Still Need More (Than Anyone Can Give)' (1998)


"Because here it comes
Here it comes"

   Last week delivered the news that Supergrass, previously enjoying a certain veneration within the canon of Britpop survivors turned good, had opted to part ways. And so, I opt to remember them in song; one of their own, of course

   I'm perennially drawn to any form of underdog and so my choice is one not fondly recalled by the band itself, although that opinion may also be symptomatic of an unfondly remembered experience. A rerecording of a b-side during their second album's campaign, behind the boards are the Dust Brothers - John King and Michael Simpson - helmers of the ever-memorable Paul's Boutique by the Beastie Boys and Odelay! by Beck. Bearing the provenance of two of my favourite albums, this song would always receive an open-minded first listen from me. When last viewed, my iTunes displayed a listening count in the 50s - considering my mp3 files number in the thousands, that represents an addiction by my standards. Of course, optimistic itinerancy as fetching, upbeat song does easily fixate me

   'We Still Need More...' has place of pride with the various listeners of the soundtrack to the MTV Films-produced black comedy Dead Man On Campus, for which it was commissioned. The Dust Brothers irregularly supplied various films with original music around this period and produced around half of the soundtrack, for which they also served as executive producers. The following year, their facility for pop cultural anthropology through hip hop and electronic music would deliver one of my favourite ever scores for one of my favourite ever films, Fight Club

   The juxtaposition of vocalist Gaz Coombes' glam rock propensities with the surf rock flirtations of the backing exemplify the Dust Brothers' easy approach to recombinant genre play; it's to their advantage that the band had already written a strong enough song that could paper over any potential production missteps. However, responsible as King and Simpson were for encouraging scores of white men to sing over any "classic" hip hop breakbeat, indirectly or otherwise, their own approach was always far more nuanced, unprejudiced and witty than the obvious and capricious takes offered by their followers

   Its greatest trick is not that it is a Beck-like song that sounds expressly like a Supergrass one but that it sounds like a song produced by the Dust Brothers and still - due to the fact that it is augmented rather than outright altered - very much the creation of a band; a pleasing irregularity when Supergrass' own feeling was that they lacked control over its recording. Besides, all sounds better with strings

   As for Supergrass, a reunion would not be unanticipated

Thursday 15 April 2010

Salon Music - 'Chew it in a Bite' (1996)


   Salon Music is Yoshida Zin and Takenaka Hitomi. In operation since 1981, their career encompasses intricate synth pop, full bore rock'n'roll, ethereal shoegaze, krautrock and breakbeat-impelled psychedelia

   I'm specifically fond of their version of 'Say Hello, Wave Goodbye,' recorded with Sparks

Monday 4 January 2010

Cornelius - '2010' (1997)



   This bears a warning - it should not be listened to, under circumstances, by those of a nervous, or staunchly classicist, disposition. For it is perhaps the most gleefully childish and senses free cover of Johann Bach's piece that exists. And I say that despite being no authority on Bach covers whatsoever

   Every Cornelius album since 1995 has borne a cover of a reasonably well known song; this rather makes that year's somewhat disquieting fusion of Vivaldi's 'Concerto No. 3 From The Four Seasons' and Black Sabbath's opening riff to 'Iron Man' (complete with bizarre neo-psychedelic electronics and the title 'Pink Bloody Sabbath') seem like relaxation music by comparison. But then how else should a downloaded MIDI over drum'n'bass and wild samples from deep space satellites and the Oscar-winning classic Amadeus make one feel?

   As far as I'm concerned, pretty bloody marvellous; at least where the first few days of this year are concerned. Happy New Decade, and do I wish that I'd been able to post this last Friday

Friday 4 December 2009

Max Tundra - Parallax Error Beheads You (2008)


Parallax error beheads you
Framing of a history lost
Caravans of infants
Fortified against the frost
Systems under boulders
Compacting penumbra now
Salons unprotected
Disappear beneath a brow
Absence round the edges
Crackles in an orange sky
Shutters on the safety
Standing by for your reply
Appalachian figure
Gazing down upon you, proud
Future life projecting
Something that you never vowed
And if I loved you
Doesn't mean I'll see you in the crowd


   So go the words as Ben Jacobs (I'll refrain from using his pseudonym because last night one of my best friends described it as akin to a wrestling name and now I have luchadores on the brain) upends the previously instrumental nature of 'Orphaned', the endearingly unsettled fifth track of his third album and the first song on the record to willfully indulge his free associative lyrical bent. I'm not familiar with every single landscape photograph the words may mean to evoke but I love singing along nonetheless

   'Orphaned' happens to be my favourite song of the LP for funny reasons. As Jacobs produces every scrap of his eclectic, musical history recombinant-sounds on an Amiga, it easily resembles the BGM that would flow from the tinny speakers of a Sega Game Gear or a Nintendo Game Boy, albeit warmer and more full bodied. It's mostly made up of a great number of cut-up-and-stitched together half-second samples, similar to the work of dance producer Akufen, that sound like the twitching of neurons set to whimsical, freewheeling electro-funk. And consisting as it does of about 3 sections that last 8 bars each, it's the earworm equivalent of a merry-go-round. But then I do have a little weakness for looped productions. Conversely, the rest of the record is in a far more structured vein, which allows Jacobs to spread his almost limitless musical imagination in as many directions as he likes

   As long as I'm referencing video game BGM, I've long described 'Which Song', probably one of Jacobs' best received productions, as Scritti Politti's 'Perfect Way' absorbed into the Streets of Rage soundtrack. Expounding on some of his favourite topics - failed relationships with girls and satirising his own nerdiness - the song's juddering danceability, dynamic keyboard playing, jingle-like hooks and register-stretching falsetto brings out Scritti's adoration of prime Michael Jackson even moreso than the band themselves could and yet remains a definably Max Tundra track. Especially with lyrical winners like "Just because I don't like football/Or wear expensive shoes/Doesn't mean my friendship isn't something you should choose," though I find the ensuing bridge a little close to the bone ("Ultimately/Different coloured fabrics sewn/Together would be/Many times more useful if/They taught me to flirt/But instead inanimate/They hang there inert/Waiting to encumber me")


   Like any good nerd with a computer, Jacobs is a dab hand with an arrangement, showing it off deftly during 'The Entertainment', morphing it from a lightly accompanied show tune (yes, I see what's been done there) to a hands-in-the-air Euro dance number before settling into a time signature shifting keyboard-led electronic jam. This is also exemplified by the opener, 'Gum Chimes', a 70s TV theme-like harpsichord-led  ditty that could support dozens of harmonies, serves as the quietest, most restrained moment on the album and has a winning way with a trumpet and a xylophone. He also adds an appreciated alternative perspective to the 80s nostalgia that's driven many of this decade's musical and cultural impulses - like modern studio greats Cornelius and Timbaland, he has a strong signature sound and a wildly obsessive attention to each and every detail that makes his genre and decade hopping distinct from mere pastiche and aping. Aside from the aforementioned influences, 'Number Our Days' (opening with "Nothing happens when you die/You don't leave your body and fly off into the sky/The deities you count on were just made up by some guy") sounds like an off-key hybrid of The Pet Shop Boys and early Jam & Lewis (specifically, Cherelle and Alexander O' Neal's 'Saturday Love'), with Jacobs on vocoder, increasingly redolent of a robot Eeyore, falsetto choruses aside

   The closer, 'Until We Die', which puts a more optimistic spin on Jacobs' fatalism, is stadium synth prog gone deliriously madcap for 11-plus minutes. Elsewhere, he finally crosses off rock music and thrash on his checklist, formerly in the high speed, off kilter, slightly noodly fun of 'Will Get Fooled Again' (also about dating, this time through popular internet sites - "I met the girl on eBay/She was bidding on Halfway to a Threeway") and latterly on 'Nord Lead Three', an exuberant, lo-fi valentine to his favourite analog synthesiser. A valentine dominated by a drumkit and guitars; I like that. 'Glycaemic Index Blues' (and with this, I believe I've covered all 10 tracks) is a twitchy, fast electro-funk number; almost unbearably zippy with pitch-shifted singing but suddenly sideswiped by a plaintive "I'm so alone" amongst the jumbled lyrics to remind us that Jacobs's (or his persona's) disposition is as changeable as his sonic backing

   As an unabashed J-Pop and picopop fan, I'm wholly receptive to Parallax Error...'s hypermelodic showstopping, expert technical manoeuvering and blipvert-esque musical joyriding. It also shares some of my favourite things about those genres - pop classicism, a respect and love for conventions combined with gleeful boundary pushing, absurd catchiness and a truly elastic mindset that makes such endearing flights of fancy possible

   And writing as a fellow neurotic, I believe that Jacobs manages to express the very picture of a modern introvert in more words and self-mocking humour than other such people will express in their lives, mine included. Sweet, catchy, fantastical, offbeat, patience testing and very, very expressive; not an album for mass consumption, but it easily finds favour with many a proud oddball

   And that's one to grow on

Sunday 25 October 2009

Stars - 'Elevator Love Letter' (2003)


   In 2003, I was still a student and because students are stupid and introspective, I began to delve into twee pop. Today, I'm so out of touch with my emotions that I can justifiably claim to have left my feelings in my other trousers. But some things stay with you and this song is one of them

   Stars is a Canadian pop outfit almost unhealthily concerned with love, death, love, isolation, love, major emotions, guitars, love and keyboards. On a side note, founder and male singer, Torquil Campbell, was a walk-on in an episode of "Sex and the City, crowning his achievement with his sole line, directed at Sarah Jessica-Parker: "Is that pleather?" I spent a reasonable amount of time with their first three albums, fell hard and then removed them from my affections almost as quickly. Perhaps it really was a question of feelings in the end. Still, 'Elevator Love Letter' is quite possibly their indelible classic, or at least as close to a signature song as they had developed before releasing 'Ageless Beauty' in 2004

   The thing is, songs that are bleak, wistful and disappointed at the core but dressed up in melodies and beats of earworm-like properties are neither new nor uncommon, but few of them have as delicate and accomplished a happy-sad balance as this does. Although Torquil has a part to play as a cynical, blithe Lothario in the second verse, the song rests much more on the beautiful vocal performance of Amy Millan and her realisation of the equally cynical and emotionally stunted yet yearning, depressed and insecure rich girl whose woes and fragility drive the song. If her story was not so slight, I'd actually like the song less, since Stars already had 11 other emotional situations to navigate through on the song's parent album, Heart, to say nothing of the rest of their output

   'Elevator Love Letter' tells me just enough about its characters, says enough about what a rich girl with a nearly frozen heart really wants out of life and woos me just enough with a fast paced, lightly melodic production and singing that actually affects. And all with a chorus that turns the mundane into something transportive, although it helps when there's various layers of instruments playing in perfect synergy underneath it

   Maybe I've not grown up fast enough - I may still have the albums somewhere

Wednesday 14 October 2009

Cornelius and Ryuichi Sakamoto - 'Turn Turn' (2008)


   'Turn Turn' is one of the songs that I listen to precisely because of how it plays with my head. Most folk unlucky enough to be aware of my aural relaxation proclivities would decry this revelation as just another footnote in my ongoing adoration of Cornelius. They're probably right

   A cover of a song by the Japanese band Sketch Show, it was originally written by electropop legend Haruomi Hosono, who is also a core member of the trailblazing Yellow Magic Orchestra (for the kids - J-Lo sampled 'Firecracker' for 'I'm Real'; the version without Ja Rule, that is) with his Sketch Show partner Yukihiro Takahashi. The cover features on the album Tribute to Haruomi Hosono, which leads to the involvement of Academy Award-winning composer (for The Last Emperor) and third of the YMO trio, Ryuichi Sakamoto, as well as the pictured international EP by Cornelius. Keigo 'Cornelius' Oyamada? He's merely a longtime fan who got to play guitar on 2007/8's live performances by the trio and has maintained a successful, eclectic and evolving musical career since his start in whimsical pop band Flipper's Guitar in the late 1980s that includes international releases for his last 3 albums and headlining sets at The Budokan

   The original 'Turn Turn' is the kind of song one would expect of modern YMO - it's a touch awkward, a little bonkers, lackadaisically funky and it's so synthesised and - in spite of its light melodic touches - oddly atonal that the result is somewhat alien, albeit trippily so. The cover is even odder for managing to achieve what sounds like a meditation on mild insanity. Many of the present Cornelius techniques are in force, including the 3D-like stereo panning of half the instruments per song that makes his music an audiophile's delight in triplicate (God knows how he does it, but it's a technique so subtle - especially compared to his contemporaries and challengers - that it tends to mesmerise the listener without inducing insanity. Unless it's one of the songs where he's actively trying to drive one insane). And the contemplative mantra of the chorus - "You must come full circle to find the truth/We must come full circle to find the truth" - offers an ideal premise for this thoughtful duo, who employ a bare bones approach of bass, guitar, light-but-whipcracking snares, goofy effects and good old Japanese exoticism. These elements then lightly intersect with each other underneath the synchronised vocals of Oyamada and Sakamoto, who sing with a soothing detachment

   The general mood is of calm until somewhere between a DJ cutting on turntables and a spinning top, there's the crazed tape effect in the breakdown as androids chant a synthesised "Turn" with ever increasing urgency until the effect releases itself across the speakers and a long synth note washes over the rest of the song. Chimes tinkle, a gong rings and the music ends in the exact same way it began: a faded note skipping across stereo channels, signaling a mood of reflection, quiet and strange contemplation

   Yes, it has that kind of effect on me


A live performance of this version of 'Turn Turn', also featuring Takahashi (without the crazed breakdown)

Saturday 3 October 2009

Neil & Iraiza - New School (2002)


   For context, please note that this was written prior to the Sugababes review. This is most apparent in the opening paragraphs:

   I started around 7am. The insomnia is working mondo overtime, as I'm so very fond of saying, though it bears pointing out that the saying sits loftily on my monument of "Turns of Phrase I Wish I Had Devised". For as long as my sleep has been disordered, I've wished for it to amount to something - anything - productive instead of procrastination or zombification or trying to roll my eyes into the back of my head (purely experimental)

   Bearing in mind that this started far back around my 14th year, I recalled sometime after 2am this morning that I used to have a wider variety of coping methods beyond fatalism and rubbing my temples in what I hoped was a hypnotic rhythm. Such as music. And there was something "productive" to be followed, for there was a promise I made to myself and, by extension, the 3 people who peruse this journal on a regular basis regarding what used to be on my iPod, as well as what might be on a future model. To specify, little missives about what I consider to be among the best records of the past 9 years

   New School is rather easily one of the top 5



Via Last FM: l-r: Hirohisa Horie ('Iraiza') and Gakuji Matsuda ('Neil'). I'm planning to acquire sunglasses like Horie-san imminently

   This is, as far as anyone's aware, the final long playing collaboration between the abovementioned band members, who have maintained stalwart status in Tokyo's alternative music corners since the dearly departed King of Pop was onto his sixth new face in the mid 1990s. Matsuda, aka DJ Chabe, is best known under his Cubismo Grafico alias, tying together lounge, classical strings, Brazilian pop, French House, reggae, electronic exotica and a dab of Philly disco to almost unimpeachable effect over multiple albums, EPs and singles, all impeccably produced and played. And he sang too

   Horie is even more disgustingly talented - a multi-instrumentalist who flies the world with former Shibuya-kei figurehead and lauded sonic maestro Cornelius as his live bassist (which means that I've seen him in person twice), and has an almost inexhaustible gift for honing psychedelic rock experimentation into unforgettable melodic hooks and uncontrived arrangements, using his cheerfully wistful and whimsical persona to imbue a winning warmth in his writing (he's also a frequent collaborator of pop star Hideki Kaji, whose recent unfortunate assault was reported a few months ago - their 1999 Tokyo Tapes EP as Dots and Borders is worth five LPs put together). Given the close-knit nature of the scene, his list of collaborators is naturally extensive and, up until N&I's first releases, more used to taking center stage


   On the face of it, it's Eclectic Dance Producer meets Ecelectic Indie Pop Lifer, but the common thread between the two men - unabashed FM radio adoration - makes them entirely an entirely natural pairing. Over two EPs and the first album, charmingly titled Johnny Marr?, as well as New School, the division of labour runs thus: the duo split lyricwriting duties, Horie handles anything with a keyboard, leads on vocals and creates the bulk of the guitar work, arrangements and ultimately, the majority of the music. Matsuda handles choruses, secondary vocals and keys, and an array of percussive instruments including the occasional drum. Friends play parts N&I believe to be better served by other talents. And naturally, Horie and Matsuda produce everything



New School's sole (Japanese) single, 'Wasted Times'. It scores highly with me for the callback to early song 'Five Idle Days', amongst other things


   In my own way, the first adjective I use to describe the album is "consummate." There seems to be an utter lack of limit to the deft touches the two artists leave on the 12 songs. Although their earlier work had a certain ramshackle charm that was nevertheless in tandem with the breadth of their skill, the songs of New School are full bodied, tightly arranged and winningly melodic; hook filled enough that English indie label Ochre Records, released tracks 4 and 11, 'This is Not a Love Song' and 'Oracle Noises' as a 7" in 2003 as a way to increase their cult profile. As an international introduction, the single captures the sunny, charming FM pop side of the duo, who create the most perfect country-inspired jangle pop record of the decade in a little over 2 minutes on side A and then delves into their effects-led psychedelic introspections on the flip, thereby providing a snapshot of the entire album

   I adore every single cut, but aside from the delights of the aforementioned selections, there are many great tricks performed successfully here. Take 'Human Dust Bin' - silly title, sillier risk in leading with beats, keys and sax that resemble mid-1980s synth soul and r'n'b (or Simply Red, if you're feeling mean) and in a possible moment of self consciousness, Horie even sings "Out of my head, that makes no sense, you know" in the middle, but it's an undeniably charming concoction of songwriting and melody that soon papers over the desire to sneer and might even move one to reconsider the source genre. 'Our Housing' is another excercise in such near-3D thought - if the reference to Madness in the title isn't immediately obvious, then the opening soon reveals the extent to which 'Our House' influences the song - the bassline, the horns, the famous guitar lines and the chorus harmony are all present and correct, but it's nevertheless a different entity in rhythm, arrangement,and lyrics, dipping through all the wistfulness and emotion that accompanies nostalgic reflections on a childhood home and providing a strong example of inspiration made good where other efforts are cynical and poor (Christina Aguilera's 'Make Over' of Sugababes' 'Overload') or simply accidental (The Flaming Lips' 'Fight Test' and Cat Stevens' 'Father and Son')


   'Wednesday' is a spirited dash of Kinksian whimsy that manages to seem original through the strength of the melodies and playing, the unexpected soft pop/light reggae collision of 'Hello Young Lovers' is soothing and oddly moving (blame it on Horie's cooing choral lead-out), while the energetic instrumental (save for a whistled lead tune), 'Fez', gallops through lighthearted 60s freakbeat and 70s keyboard wizardry but avoids total antiquity through the  detail and clarity of its production



   Special mention goes to 'Supreme Day', a superficially simplistic drum-pounding jaunt, upon which all manner of instruments and hooks surmount, most prominently a recorder. And then there's 'Mall Rats', possibly my favourite contender for rock'n'roll song of the decade. It's exuberant, confident and practically viral in its memorableness, from its opening riff to its cute, child's-view-of-consumerism-and-defiance lyrics to its slightly dizzying, percussively danceable finish. Best part? It's the second song on the album, and, therefore, the strongest assurance that the record to follow will be one that remains in the memory

   It pulls off the best trick of much of Shibuya-Kei - making the past sound like the present and/or the future - but the childish whims and viewpoints of many of their peers are made more adult  and refined in the hands of Horie and Matsuda. And as an album from the final days of "old" Shibuya-Kei, New School is very much the capstone that the movement deserved

Friday 2 October 2009

Shibuya-Kei: A Brief Primer


 Whilst finishing off my next 2000s musical review - technically the first until real world events dictated otherwise - I noticed that a genre overview might be needed for those who lack my particular proclivities for musical geekery. So the following is extracted from said review, a classic from Japan's old alternative pop scene, Shibuya-Kei:

The now-dead - and resurrected - scene they contributed prolifically to, Shibuya-kei, deserves its own article or, better still, a link to a better overview and dissection than I could hope to manage, lack of rest or no. Suffice to say, it centred around an auspiciously fashionable and lively area of Tokyo - the titular Shibuya - and its harmonic proponents became known for recombinant, idiosyncratic, heavily detailed and often exuberant and kitschy forms of Western pop history. It was the 1990s incarnation of the DIY spirit of punk and golden age hip hop, yet almost everything had a whispy voiced Japanese femme on vocals and it all sounded like it was created on an unlimited budget, even when it wasn't

   And those links are the preserve and insights of Japanese-but-actually-American alternative/blender pop artist, journalist and cultural disinterrer Marxy, as detailed in six parts. The Legacy of Shibuya-Kei is a vital and excellent read, examining and championing well over a decade of a landscape changed by reinterpreting and reshaping Western music into something familiar but utterly new. And sometimes far more interesting:



   Give Marxy's songs a try. I'll be returning to his output in the near or distant future

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