PART TWO: the album...
What’s been allowed to endure from Viva La Vida and now permeates Mylo Xyloto is an insipid wateriness to much of the production, especially on the loathsome made-to-order single “Paradise” that features one of the many examples on the album of Chris Martin’s vocals being double-tracked, duplicated as a nightmarishly sickly choir or turned into a limp atmospheric sound effect. The overall result is a band lacking in identity so much so that you can no longer imagine Jonny Buckland, Guy Berryman and Will Champion playing their instruments alongside their frontman amidst the deluge of extravagant sonic embellishments and otherworldly leitmotifs.
But, as the tenth song on their fragile 2000 debut album Parachutes put it, everything’s not lost.
Tracks such as “Us Against The World”, “U.F.O.” and “Don’t Let It Break Your Heart” have the stripped down four-piece directness that once made the band achieve greater things and although it’s still in keeping with their newfound primary-coloured palette “Hurts Like Heaven” thrills as an exhilaratingly kinetic opener. “Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall” works considerably better in context with the rest of the album than it did as a stand-alone single (or was it just a free download?) and, along with the absurdly conceived but surprisingly enjoyable “Princess Of China”, represents the strength of the album’s arguably more compromised side.
It seems that the richer moments on Mylo Xyloto are those that favour simplicity and striking musicality over the Brian Eno-inspired/authored electronic flourishes and distracting overdubs that all too often serve little purpose other than to make the eyes of even the most open-minded and diplomatic of alternative rock fans roll.
But by this stage in their career I think it’s safe to say that Coldplay have chosen to stop fighting a losing battle in seducing reluctant listeners who’ve steadfastly brushed off their advances over the years. And yet by turning the other cheek the band have allowed their more showy pop affiliations to infiltrate their songwriting and perhaps even compromise their core musical values.
When Chris Martin briefly became a songwriter-for-hire in the mid-naughties to artists likes Jamelia and Embrace it was endearing to see him dabbling in charitable musical philanthropy, but the collaboration with Jay-Z on the single version of “Lost!” from Viva La Vida and the Rihanna duet here on “Princess Of China” give off the sickly scent of “feat.” credits being half-heartedly phoned-in and with the band now agreeing to appear on The X-Factor we see the inevitable turning of a once vaguely principled foursome into the worst kind of court composers/jesters.
But if Coldplay’s loyalties have now shifted from audience to advertisers then they have my sincerest empathy as the incessant and often narrow-minded hatred directed at them by an amnesiac music scene that surely owes them a sizeable debt would sour anyone’s compassion.
But fear not, for the end is in sight: the band stated that Viva La Vida was the start of a “trilogy” that would be characterised by a singular musical/artistic vision, so with two albums down we now only have one more like this to sit through before the next, hopefully less vaudevillian, incarnation of the band makes it’s welcome appearance.
2/5
Showing posts with label music review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music review. Show all posts
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Killer Sounds
You can always count on rock ‘n’ roll for a bit of bad timing: Radiohead changed it’s lyrics to The Bends’ penultimate track “Sulk” following Kurt Cobain’s shotgun-related suicide; The Smashing Pumpkins’ third single “Disarm” from their second album Siamese Dream was banned by the BBC after it’s lyrical content clashed with morbid news stories of the time; and The Strokes saw sense to omit the mocking “New York City Cops” from the US release of their Is This It? debut album in the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. However, it goes without saying that the release of Hard-Fi’s third album Killer Sounds is flagged by none of the above records’ hype or anticipation, therefore the closing title track with it’s tale of young people taking to the streets and rioting hasn’t whipped up a media frenzy and been rushed to be replaced following the recent urban unrest that’s plagued some of England’s major cities.
It’s almost a shame for the band that such an example of prophetic poetry and life imitating art didn’t hit the six o’clock news, as a bit of bad press would have done the album a bit of good. It’s been a very muted arrival all in all and, apart from it’s slightly unsettling painted skull artwork, Killer Sounds isn’t adorned with the same inspired, but strangely controversial, No Cover Art concept that fronted their previous effort Once Upon A Time In The West. But whether it’d made the headlines like it’s predecessor or not, Killer Sounds has remained what it is: a compulsively enjoyable slice of decadent and overly ambitious pomp.
I must admit I’m a fan of some of rock’s recent much hyped flops: Second Coming, Be Here Now, X&Y, Euphoric Heartbreak. I just love a band that pushes it’s music too far in the hope of being bigger and better only to end up veering off into absurdity. In context the above albums received harsh backlashes after an initially successful release and were only considered critical disasters after the dust had settled, but they remain enduring bloated treasure troves of musical guilty pleasures.
Even though Hard-Fi have attempted to classify themselves as a politically charged band with their own personal involvement in racial equality campaigns and musical themes cantering on the mediocrity of lower middle class idleness, they’re politicizing remains far too dumb to be taken seriously by the masses and so the band are at best enjoyed for their musical merits rather than their part-time protesting. A good thing too, as Killer Sounds is by far their dumbest record to date.
Teetering somewhere between mid-80s Michael Jackson records like "Billy Jean" and "Thriller", the Manchester Hacienda club scene and 90s dance acts such as Prodigy and The Chemical Brothers, the organic rock drum beats that were the heart of Hard-Fi’s previous albums has taken a back seat to some of Killer Sounds’ more explicit electronic rhythms. That’s not to say they’ve followed the recent indie band trend of simply sticking a few synth parts onto their records here and there to keep the kids happy, quite the contrary, in fact they’ve developed their already well established rock-you-can-dance-to format into a more intense and euphoric experience without opening themselves up to accusations of compromising their rock integrity… after all, they never really had that to begin with.
It’s no secret that frontman Richard Archer can’t sing, that’s what we love him for, but for once even his atonal wailings seem fractured and under pressure, especially on opener “Good For Nothing”. It’s the one part of the album that is glaringly inconsistent and perhaps could have done with re-recording. Archer has never sounded so underconfident and tired. Fortunately for us though his vocals never veer off into the mumbling nadir of Julian Casablancas’ vocals on The Strokes’ third album First Impressions Of Earth which single-handedly destroyed the hard work put in by the rest of the band, but they do hit a few cringe-worthy speed bumps.
With this new electro confidence the DIY ethos that permeated their previous albums has gone. This doesn’t sound like the same band that built their own studio by hand or recorded tracks in the back seat of a car. Before they were making dance records as if before the dawn of synthesisers, sampling and looping. Now their music is washed with an antiseptic electronic bleach that has eroded their characteristically modest musicianship and drowned much of the instrumentation’s personality.
But even though there’s an intoxicating busyness to the album it doesn’t spoil the very skilled songwriting that’s been made to endure, and so the new production dynamics have not been allowed to become too much of a barrier between the listener and the great tunes.
Whilst Killer Sounds is by no means a musical failure it does represent a band experimenting with a sound that they’ve been flirting with ever since their debut, Stars Of CCTV, with mixed results. The new glossy production values, which will be well suited to providing the soundtrack to clips of football highlights or montages of sun drenched music festivals with young people waving their arms in the air, is a welcome change but I really hope that Hard-Fi return next time with a more bare bones release that shows them at their best. Warts and all.
3/5
It’s almost a shame for the band that such an example of prophetic poetry and life imitating art didn’t hit the six o’clock news, as a bit of bad press would have done the album a bit of good. It’s been a very muted arrival all in all and, apart from it’s slightly unsettling painted skull artwork, Killer Sounds isn’t adorned with the same inspired, but strangely controversial, No Cover Art concept that fronted their previous effort Once Upon A Time In The West. But whether it’d made the headlines like it’s predecessor or not, Killer Sounds has remained what it is: a compulsively enjoyable slice of decadent and overly ambitious pomp.
I must admit I’m a fan of some of rock’s recent much hyped flops: Second Coming, Be Here Now, X&Y, Euphoric Heartbreak. I just love a band that pushes it’s music too far in the hope of being bigger and better only to end up veering off into absurdity. In context the above albums received harsh backlashes after an initially successful release and were only considered critical disasters after the dust had settled, but they remain enduring bloated treasure troves of musical guilty pleasures.
Even though Hard-Fi have attempted to classify themselves as a politically charged band with their own personal involvement in racial equality campaigns and musical themes cantering on the mediocrity of lower middle class idleness, they’re politicizing remains far too dumb to be taken seriously by the masses and so the band are at best enjoyed for their musical merits rather than their part-time protesting. A good thing too, as Killer Sounds is by far their dumbest record to date.
Teetering somewhere between mid-80s Michael Jackson records like "Billy Jean" and "Thriller", the Manchester Hacienda club scene and 90s dance acts such as Prodigy and The Chemical Brothers, the organic rock drum beats that were the heart of Hard-Fi’s previous albums has taken a back seat to some of Killer Sounds’ more explicit electronic rhythms. That’s not to say they’ve followed the recent indie band trend of simply sticking a few synth parts onto their records here and there to keep the kids happy, quite the contrary, in fact they’ve developed their already well established rock-you-can-dance-to format into a more intense and euphoric experience without opening themselves up to accusations of compromising their rock integrity… after all, they never really had that to begin with.
It’s no secret that frontman Richard Archer can’t sing, that’s what we love him for, but for once even his atonal wailings seem fractured and under pressure, especially on opener “Good For Nothing”. It’s the one part of the album that is glaringly inconsistent and perhaps could have done with re-recording. Archer has never sounded so underconfident and tired. Fortunately for us though his vocals never veer off into the mumbling nadir of Julian Casablancas’ vocals on The Strokes’ third album First Impressions Of Earth which single-handedly destroyed the hard work put in by the rest of the band, but they do hit a few cringe-worthy speed bumps.
With this new electro confidence the DIY ethos that permeated their previous albums has gone. This doesn’t sound like the same band that built their own studio by hand or recorded tracks in the back seat of a car. Before they were making dance records as if before the dawn of synthesisers, sampling and looping. Now their music is washed with an antiseptic electronic bleach that has eroded their characteristically modest musicianship and drowned much of the instrumentation’s personality.
But even though there’s an intoxicating busyness to the album it doesn’t spoil the very skilled songwriting that’s been made to endure, and so the new production dynamics have not been allowed to become too much of a barrier between the listener and the great tunes.
Whilst Killer Sounds is by no means a musical failure it does represent a band experimenting with a sound that they’ve been flirting with ever since their debut, Stars Of CCTV, with mixed results. The new glossy production values, which will be well suited to providing the soundtrack to clips of football highlights or montages of sun drenched music festivals with young people waving their arms in the air, is a welcome change but I really hope that Hard-Fi return next time with a more bare bones release that shows them at their best. Warts and all.
3/5
Friday, 17 June 2011
Suck It and See
The Arctic Monkeys have, not wanting to turn their backs on perceived failings, put at least three songs on Suck It And See (Brick By Brick, Library Pictures, All My Own Stunts) that play out like salty leftovers from their previous album - Humbug. Library Pictures, for instance, could be taken as a companion piece to Pretty Visitors with it’s cascading rhetoric and lucid midway waltz. Generally though on Suck It And See there’s an overall feeling that the Sheffield foursome are striving for more than just the breathe-too-hard-and-they’ll-fall-over melodies featured on Humbug. The denser production and brighter tone on songs like Reckless Serenade, Suck It And See and the epic That’s Where You’re Wrong hint at a new direction altogether.
As the rest of the British indie/alternative music scene scrambles desperately to sound like early to mid 1980s synth pop groups (a revivalist genre ensnaring the likes of Kaiser Chiefs, Glasvegas and Editors) the Arctic Monkeys have boldly moved on a step and now warmly tip their flat caps to late 80s Madchester bands and Union Jack waving 90s Britpop stalwarts such as The Stone Roses, The Charlatans, The Bluetones, The Lightning Seeds and, erm, Babybird (you’ll know it when you hear it). It’s a brave step, considering that said decade of untucked long-sleeved shirts and shaggy bowl haircuts still feels relatively close and, as with all just-departed periods of fashion and music culture, regrettable. But the Monkeys’ fourth album effortlessly strives to celebrate a jangly, drunken singalong vibe that has all but vanished in contemporary indie rock.
Suck It And See’s opening track contains a couple of mistakes… intentional mistakes, of course… clever mistakes. She’s Thunderstorms acts as a continuation of Humbug’s precedent of getting the ball rolling with a tale of sexual frustration and symbolic titillation. Alex Turner sings about having girls “lying on [their] front” or “up against the wall”. Wherever. But girls send his mind and mouth into a frenzy and his rising blood pressure shoots his vocals into a topsy turvy summersault. So much so are these four Northern boys distracted by black leggings and teasing feminine fringes that even the guitar solo gets “sabotaged” by too much distortion that creates an ugly and cloudy fuzz tone (tightened slightly with effects and equalisation) that most guitarists would demand a re-take of.
What seems to have changed most of all since 2006’s Whatever They Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not is the prioritisation of Turner’s crooning vocals over frenetic twin guitar attacks. Each song is constructed to allow the vocals to wander in and out at any time, like a band playing live that’s waiting patiently for their singer to swagger back on stage after a lengthy cigarette break. The compositions are looser and take into account a more patient audience/fanbase that are less in need of instant pop gratification. You get the feeling that Richard Hawley and The Divine Comedy have been playing on Turner’s turntable of late and have taught him the importance of languid purposeful pace and charming music hall pomp.
If their milestone 2006 debut represented a snapshot of being at the age when you’re either too old or too young to get away with reckless behaviour and could never (and probably should never) be repeated then ideally what has come along since should be considered their true starting point. Suck It And See is the sound of the Arctic Monkeys finally settling into themselves; juggling playful images of love, loss and life in perpetual motion with shimmering guitar jetstreams and show-stopping rhythm section interludes.
But there are still pleasant consistencies: we’re treated to perhaps the most tender and soulful tune they’ve yet committed to tape in the form of Love Is A Laserquest which continues their endearing predilection for introspective ballads (see Riot Van, The Only Ones Who Know and Secret Door for more information). We also get a (now standard?) mid-tempo love song with Piledriver Waltz that’s definitely equal to the likes of Mardy Bum, Florescent Adolescent and Cornerstone.
Overall Suck It And See has a lasting quality that makes up for the service station comfort break that was 2009’s Humbug, however the whiskey soaked ventures into haunted forest atmospherics are still present and have yet to be shaken off by a band still too youthful for such bitter grown up antics. Stick to the guitar pop, boys, there’s still plenty of time to emulate Nick Cave and Tom Waits... and don’t worry about trying to impress Queens Of The Stone Age’s Josh Homme (who co-produced Humbug) with limp interpretations of stoner rock and cactus blues, he’s only a ginger and can’t hurt you.
4/5
As the rest of the British indie/alternative music scene scrambles desperately to sound like early to mid 1980s synth pop groups (a revivalist genre ensnaring the likes of Kaiser Chiefs, Glasvegas and Editors) the Arctic Monkeys have boldly moved on a step and now warmly tip their flat caps to late 80s Madchester bands and Union Jack waving 90s Britpop stalwarts such as The Stone Roses, The Charlatans, The Bluetones, The Lightning Seeds and, erm, Babybird (you’ll know it when you hear it). It’s a brave step, considering that said decade of untucked long-sleeved shirts and shaggy bowl haircuts still feels relatively close and, as with all just-departed periods of fashion and music culture, regrettable. But the Monkeys’ fourth album effortlessly strives to celebrate a jangly, drunken singalong vibe that has all but vanished in contemporary indie rock.
Suck It And See’s opening track contains a couple of mistakes… intentional mistakes, of course… clever mistakes. She’s Thunderstorms acts as a continuation of Humbug’s precedent of getting the ball rolling with a tale of sexual frustration and symbolic titillation. Alex Turner sings about having girls “lying on [their] front” or “up against the wall”. Wherever. But girls send his mind and mouth into a frenzy and his rising blood pressure shoots his vocals into a topsy turvy summersault. So much so are these four Northern boys distracted by black leggings and teasing feminine fringes that even the guitar solo gets “sabotaged” by too much distortion that creates an ugly and cloudy fuzz tone (tightened slightly with effects and equalisation) that most guitarists would demand a re-take of.
What seems to have changed most of all since 2006’s Whatever They Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not is the prioritisation of Turner’s crooning vocals over frenetic twin guitar attacks. Each song is constructed to allow the vocals to wander in and out at any time, like a band playing live that’s waiting patiently for their singer to swagger back on stage after a lengthy cigarette break. The compositions are looser and take into account a more patient audience/fanbase that are less in need of instant pop gratification. You get the feeling that Richard Hawley and The Divine Comedy have been playing on Turner’s turntable of late and have taught him the importance of languid purposeful pace and charming music hall pomp.
If their milestone 2006 debut represented a snapshot of being at the age when you’re either too old or too young to get away with reckless behaviour and could never (and probably should never) be repeated then ideally what has come along since should be considered their true starting point. Suck It And See is the sound of the Arctic Monkeys finally settling into themselves; juggling playful images of love, loss and life in perpetual motion with shimmering guitar jetstreams and show-stopping rhythm section interludes.
But there are still pleasant consistencies: we’re treated to perhaps the most tender and soulful tune they’ve yet committed to tape in the form of Love Is A Laserquest which continues their endearing predilection for introspective ballads (see Riot Van, The Only Ones Who Know and Secret Door for more information). We also get a (now standard?) mid-tempo love song with Piledriver Waltz that’s definitely equal to the likes of Mardy Bum, Florescent Adolescent and Cornerstone.
Overall Suck It And See has a lasting quality that makes up for the service station comfort break that was 2009’s Humbug, however the whiskey soaked ventures into haunted forest atmospherics are still present and have yet to be shaken off by a band still too youthful for such bitter grown up antics. Stick to the guitar pop, boys, there’s still plenty of time to emulate Nick Cave and Tom Waits... and don’t worry about trying to impress Queens Of The Stone Age’s Josh Homme (who co-produced Humbug) with limp interpretations of stoner rock and cactus blues, he’s only a ginger and can’t hurt you.
4/5
Sunday, 17 April 2011
Angles
It’s always nice when a song comes along that hits so many giddy nerves in your body that it makes you whistle and skip from the breakfast table right through to your midnight cereal raid… and it just so happens that “Under Cover Of Darkness” on The Strokes’ fourth album Angles is one of those tunes. In fact it’s so riff-tastic and catchy that you almost curse yourself for not coming up with the idea first.
Thankfully though this isn’t the only gem on the band’s long awaited (and much feared by this reviewer) follow-up to the deeply flawed First Impressions Of Earth which frontman Julian Casablancas managed to spoil almost single-handedly with a collection of vocal melodies which plunged to the very nadir of songwriting craft. Angles, predictably much like it’s title, has a few new angles to it, but the resulting record is neither confused nor rambling… it’s also mercifully shorter than it’s overlong predecessor.
From the colourful opener Machu Picchu onwards it’s clear that The Strokes have finally remembered how to infuse a bit of sunlight and fun into their garage rock groove and have brushed away the cobwebs of the past to march ahead to a more promising, productive and artistically valid future.
There are some lovely 80s flavours to the album, so much so in fact that on tracks like “Two Kinds Of Happiness” and “Games” you half expect Cyndi Lauper to make a guest appearance and wink cheekily through your speakers with a mouth full of bubblegum.
Elsewhere there are more earnest experiments into Radiohead-style alt-rock that thankfully aren’t left field enough to spoil the flow of the record and end up being entertaining in their own right. For those yearning for a reminder of their first two albums then “Taken For A Fool” comes with a lush chorus that must’ve been picked straight up off the cutting room (on fire) floor.
Angles is certainly one of the better albums to appear during this guitar-rock lull and the shoulder pad inducing synths are mixed well with the band’s familiar retro sound.
Give it a go… it’s a very rewarding “grower”.
4/5
Thankfully though this isn’t the only gem on the band’s long awaited (and much feared by this reviewer) follow-up to the deeply flawed First Impressions Of Earth which frontman Julian Casablancas managed to spoil almost single-handedly with a collection of vocal melodies which plunged to the very nadir of songwriting craft. Angles, predictably much like it’s title, has a few new angles to it, but the resulting record is neither confused nor rambling… it’s also mercifully shorter than it’s overlong predecessor.
From the colourful opener Machu Picchu onwards it’s clear that The Strokes have finally remembered how to infuse a bit of sunlight and fun into their garage rock groove and have brushed away the cobwebs of the past to march ahead to a more promising, productive and artistically valid future.
There are some lovely 80s flavours to the album, so much so in fact that on tracks like “Two Kinds Of Happiness” and “Games” you half expect Cyndi Lauper to make a guest appearance and wink cheekily through your speakers with a mouth full of bubblegum.
Elsewhere there are more earnest experiments into Radiohead-style alt-rock that thankfully aren’t left field enough to spoil the flow of the record and end up being entertaining in their own right. For those yearning for a reminder of their first two albums then “Taken For A Fool” comes with a lush chorus that must’ve been picked straight up off the cutting room (on fire) floor.
Angles is certainly one of the better albums to appear during this guitar-rock lull and the shoulder pad inducing synths are mixed well with the band’s familiar retro sound.
Give it a go… it’s a very rewarding “grower”.
4/5
Sunday, 2 January 2011
FAN TRACKLIST: Led Zeppelin Double Bill
In my relatively fresh history of enjoying Led Zeppelin I’ve found it difficult to acquire a fondness for their fifth and sixth albums, Houses of the Holy and Physical Graffiti.
I guess it doesn’t help that Houses of the Holy is rife with questionable genre experimentations and a self-indulgent overall theme of how big and successful Led Zeppelin were at the time (the title referring to the enormous stadiums they were regularly playing in and the song The Ocean named after the sea of fans that the band would observe from the stage every night), while double album Physical Graffiti is sprinkled liberally with studio outtakes from previous records that only serve to undermine the album’s flow and consistency.
So, a niggling doubt and theory in my mind grew and blossomed into something rather revelatory: if the title track from Houses of the Holy was left off that record for artistic reasons and added, rather clumsily, to Physical Graffiti… what would happen if it was moved back? In fact, what would happen if you removed all the tracks that weren’t recorded specifically for Physical Graffiti and ditch all but the three intended for Houses of the Holy (The Rover, Houses Of The Holy, Black Country Woman) and put them back where they belonged in place of the three songs (The Crunge, Dancing Days, D’yer Mak’er) that really don’t seem to work on that album?
Well, you have two slightly better albums, that’s what…
Houses of The Holy:
As well as just replacing three songs on Houses of the Holy I had a play around with the tracklist to make it more engaging… pushing the dreamy and beautiful The Rain Song closer to the end where it feels better served and bringing the haunting and strangely ahead-of-it’s-time No Quarter forward to give the middle of the album more power and gravitas. I also keep The Rover as the second track on the album (as it appeared on Physical Graffiti) and try to keep alive the Led Zeppelin tradition of finishing things off with a rootsy stomp with Black Country Woman.
Here’s my “Special Edition” of the album:
1. The Song Remains The Same
2. The Rover
3. Over The Hills And Far Away
4. No Quarter
5. The Ocean
6. Houses Of The Holy
7. The Rain Song
8. Black Country Woman
Physical Graffiti:
The sleeker version of Physical Graffiti has a faster pace, a heightened intensity and a significant musical consistency that the standard Physical Graffiti lacks. The things that bothered me about the album before just don’t stand out so much anymore…. basically the songs sound like they belong together and the “filler” has been trimmed. I understand that just because an album is shorter it does not always mean it will feel shorter, however the original extra seven tracks just seemed to weigh the whole thing down to the point that sometimes, when I played it, the album felt like it was wheezing on the floor.
Here’s how my shortened and preferred version runs:
1. Custard Pie
2. In My Time Of Dying
3. Trampled Under Foot
4. Kashmir
5. In The Light
6. Ten Years Gone
7. The Wanton Song
8. Sick Again
I often feel guilty when I tamper with the intended flow of an album (no matter how much I disagree with it), but in this instance it just feels right.
Give it a go, it’s interesting and fun.
I guess it doesn’t help that Houses of the Holy is rife with questionable genre experimentations and a self-indulgent overall theme of how big and successful Led Zeppelin were at the time (the title referring to the enormous stadiums they were regularly playing in and the song The Ocean named after the sea of fans that the band would observe from the stage every night), while double album Physical Graffiti is sprinkled liberally with studio outtakes from previous records that only serve to undermine the album’s flow and consistency.
So, a niggling doubt and theory in my mind grew and blossomed into something rather revelatory: if the title track from Houses of the Holy was left off that record for artistic reasons and added, rather clumsily, to Physical Graffiti… what would happen if it was moved back? In fact, what would happen if you removed all the tracks that weren’t recorded specifically for Physical Graffiti and ditch all but the three intended for Houses of the Holy (The Rover, Houses Of The Holy, Black Country Woman) and put them back where they belonged in place of the three songs (The Crunge, Dancing Days, D’yer Mak’er) that really don’t seem to work on that album?
Well, you have two slightly better albums, that’s what…
Houses of The Holy:
As well as just replacing three songs on Houses of the Holy I had a play around with the tracklist to make it more engaging… pushing the dreamy and beautiful The Rain Song closer to the end where it feels better served and bringing the haunting and strangely ahead-of-it’s-time No Quarter forward to give the middle of the album more power and gravitas. I also keep The Rover as the second track on the album (as it appeared on Physical Graffiti) and try to keep alive the Led Zeppelin tradition of finishing things off with a rootsy stomp with Black Country Woman.
Here’s my “Special Edition” of the album:
1. The Song Remains The Same
2. The Rover
3. Over The Hills And Far Away
4. No Quarter
5. The Ocean
6. Houses Of The Holy
7. The Rain Song
8. Black Country Woman
Physical Graffiti:
The sleeker version of Physical Graffiti has a faster pace, a heightened intensity and a significant musical consistency that the standard Physical Graffiti lacks. The things that bothered me about the album before just don’t stand out so much anymore…. basically the songs sound like they belong together and the “filler” has been trimmed. I understand that just because an album is shorter it does not always mean it will feel shorter, however the original extra seven tracks just seemed to weigh the whole thing down to the point that sometimes, when I played it, the album felt like it was wheezing on the floor.
Here’s how my shortened and preferred version runs:
1. Custard Pie
2. In My Time Of Dying
3. Trampled Under Foot
4. Kashmir
5. In The Light
6. Ten Years Gone
7. The Wanton Song
8. Sick Again
I often feel guilty when I tamper with the intended flow of an album (no matter how much I disagree with it), but in this instance it just feels right.
Give it a go, it’s interesting and fun.
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
FAN TRACKLIST: Radio Wars
I’ve been working on an alternate tracklisting for the Howling Bells’ second album “Radio Wars” for a while and I think I’ve finally settled on a running order.
When I first bought the album my reaction was mixed and I felt that there was a stronger, more coherent work hidden beneath a confused tracklist.
The original was:
Treasure Hunt
Cities Burning Down
It Ain't You
Nightingale
Let's Be Kids
Ms. Bell's Song
Radio Wars Theme
Golden Web
Into the Chaos
Digital Hearts
How Long
To LA (bonus extra track)
I felt that there were some weak songs that could do with being removed and some challenging songs that languished unfairly towards the end of the record. My gut instinct told me that “Radio Wars” was a little “top heavy” and that the subtle science fiction concept could be brought to the foreground with the following tracklist:
Radio Wars Theme
Treasure Hunt
To LA
It Ain’t You
How Long
Digital Hearts
Nightingale
Breaking My Back
Cities Burning Down
Into The Chaos
Ms. Bell’s Song
When I initially moved To LA to the first half of the album I didn’t realise it was meant as a “hidden track” and thought it was part of the official running order, but I’ve warmed to it as part of the piece.
For me, this is a much more satisfying version of the album, although I’m sure the band would be offended by such audacity.
Regardless, you can find my version here.
Do stay in touch, darlings.
Toodles!
Saturday, 17 April 2010
Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers
So what do you do with a band that breaks up before it gets a chance to record it’s debut album? Who’s frontman has such an artistic change of heart before he realises he has a successful music career that the rest of the band decide to bugger off? Who’s early punky demo tapes are collected together post-break-up to form a seminal LP masterpiece?
I dunno, listen and enjoy them I guess :o)
The career of The Modern Lovers aka Jonathan Richman & The Modern lovers aka Jonathan Richman could be seen as one lacking in direction due to an ego-maniac of a frontman, but Jonathan Richman is a wide-eyed, childlike, gentle-giant sort who’s voice makes him sound like a cool indie rocker but who’s heart yearns for softer acoustic melodies and a peaceful existence.
The excitement of youth may have caused him to make an initial wrong step, but luckily for us that wrong step just happened to be amazing. The not-a-debut-album debut album is a fantastic Velvet Underground/The Stooges flavoured new-wave/punk classic and I’m loving the live album that I’ve found on Spotify too.
I’m not sure if I’ll get into Jonathan Richman’s Spanish styled acoustic "solo" stuff (was there ever really a band?), but I’m becoming more and more fascinated by the man: a bundle of contradictions who nobody seems to be able to define.
Here are some nice interviews with him that really reveal the sort of warm person he is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJG4bQxVIHM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7mHg0H6sy8
A few music clips:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDJShMk-r88
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJUY3q3xaWY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjFU98mEem4
Very inspiring stuff :o)
I dunno, listen and enjoy them I guess :o)
The career of The Modern Lovers aka Jonathan Richman & The Modern lovers aka Jonathan Richman could be seen as one lacking in direction due to an ego-maniac of a frontman, but Jonathan Richman is a wide-eyed, childlike, gentle-giant sort who’s voice makes him sound like a cool indie rocker but who’s heart yearns for softer acoustic melodies and a peaceful existence.
The excitement of youth may have caused him to make an initial wrong step, but luckily for us that wrong step just happened to be amazing. The not-a-debut-album debut album is a fantastic Velvet Underground/The Stooges flavoured new-wave/punk classic and I’m loving the live album that I’ve found on Spotify too.
I’m not sure if I’ll get into Jonathan Richman’s Spanish styled acoustic "solo" stuff (was there ever really a band?), but I’m becoming more and more fascinated by the man: a bundle of contradictions who nobody seems to be able to define.
Here are some nice interviews with him that really reveal the sort of warm person he is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJG4bQxVIHM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7mHg0H6sy8
A few music clips:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDJShMk-r88
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJUY3q3xaWY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjFU98mEem4
Very inspiring stuff :o)
Thursday, 1 April 2010
Humbug
Eeee, something approaching a proper review from me at last....
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Who would have guessed that the gothic-tinged “Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But” from the Arctic Monkeys’ debut album would light the way for their eventual artistic embodiment. It was a song that stood out amidst a collection of urban breast-beaters and hinted at an already keen sense of moving-on…. after all, whilst we’re guessing what’ll be the next single from their recent album they’re already firing off demos of their next dozen.
Humbug is an album for lovers of a good old croon. Down go the frenzied twin guitar riffs and up go the atmospherics. Alex Turner spends much of the album with the microphone in his hand rather than a white Stratocaster and smoothly draws the listener into a world of basement bars and velvet lounges. Had the album closed with a cover of “My Way” then not many punters would be left feeling short-changed.
The corrosive scent of unrequited dance-floor lust and domestic violence that flavoured their first two albums becomes a sour mist of seedy encounters with black-market poison merchants and dominating sex fiends. The band has flung aside their modesty and embraced a more primal side….. surely not the actions of a bunch of meek indie chancers?
Humbug won’t hot your heels on the way to work, but it’ll make a good accompaniment to a rainy night on the sofa with a glass of scotch.
You said it, Frankie.
----
Who would have guessed that the gothic-tinged “Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But” from the Arctic Monkeys’ debut album would light the way for their eventual artistic embodiment. It was a song that stood out amidst a collection of urban breast-beaters and hinted at an already keen sense of moving-on…. after all, whilst we’re guessing what’ll be the next single from their recent album they’re already firing off demos of their next dozen.
Humbug is an album for lovers of a good old croon. Down go the frenzied twin guitar riffs and up go the atmospherics. Alex Turner spends much of the album with the microphone in his hand rather than a white Stratocaster and smoothly draws the listener into a world of basement bars and velvet lounges. Had the album closed with a cover of “My Way” then not many punters would be left feeling short-changed.
The corrosive scent of unrequited dance-floor lust and domestic violence that flavoured their first two albums becomes a sour mist of seedy encounters with black-market poison merchants and dominating sex fiends. The band has flung aside their modesty and embraced a more primal side….. surely not the actions of a bunch of meek indie chancers?
Humbug won’t hot your heels on the way to work, but it’ll make a good accompaniment to a rainy night on the sofa with a glass of scotch.
You said it, Frankie.
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