MICE PARADE – MICE PARADE (FAT CAT)

On the same day that I begin reviewing this record I find/buy an old Philistines Jr seven inch in Music And Video Exchange for 5p not realising that there is a relation between them and Mice Parade.

With a name that is derived from an anagram of leader Adam Pierce’s name, Mice Parade are something of indie veterans with this being their fifth album. And this is a tough record to review as it proves a really tranquil experience which unfortunately sees the music slipping into the background of my day.

A much layered affair, this is a relaxed and slow building selection. Playing out like a travel companion in the midst of some deep conversation, the swift time changes and insertions of any instrument at their disposal, The Mice Parade have produced a record that glides successfully combining elements of folk and noise with strongly crafted songs.

Listened to on a Sunday morning in the summer is when this record feels most comfortable, I find myself transfixed with the blessed ease the protagonists appear to have with life.

Featuring guest appearances on vocals by Laetitia Sadier of Stereolab and Kristin Anna Valtysdottir of Mum that perfectly compliment the almost Dando/Grohl-esqe pitch of Pierce, it is not too hard to envisage how this record sounds, not least with the knowledge that Doug Scharin (June Of 44/Rex/Him) can be counted amongst the band’s numbers.

Over the course of the nine tracks it ranges from the delicate dream state of “Double Dolphins On The Nickel” (sadly not some kind of Minutemen tribute) to the out and out drone of “Snow” and the very Tortoise/Sixtoo-esqe mathematics of “Tales Of Las Negras”, where Sadier makes her appearance.

An album of far flung beauty, in a world where so many are attempting folk-tinged electronica and falling flat on their faces, here is a timely reminded how sweet the cherry can taste.

Thesaurus moment: sumptuous.

Mice Parade

Fat Cat Records

BILLY RUFFIAN – MY SECRET LIFE (FILTHY LITTLE ANGELS)

read review at MUSIC TOWERS

read review at DISKANT

GALLOWS – ABANDON SHIP (WARNERS/BLACK ENVELOPE)

I have truly been fucking shocked at hearing this record on daytime Radio One. I could literally not believe my ears as the old school emo hardcore flew out the FM and I was transported back to the future.

It is nearly ten years now since I was buying seven inches by bands that don’t just sound a little like this band, they sounded EXACTLY like this band (well, this single at least). Actually the reality is that Gallows sound exactly like such DIY heroes from back in the day as Bob Tilton, Tribute, Beacon etc etc. At one point, if you went up to Leeds it seemed like bands sounding like this were growing on trees and Subjugation Records were selling their records through their distro.

So what on earth has happened? I feel it is a truly strange climate these days that sees bands in the (near) mainstream sounding like bands from “my roots” and I truly cannot decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. And at the end of the day, who is it that can claim to have won the war? Did the majors get wise to the innovation of the DIY indies (ho ho) and cash in on it? Have the underground labels been ultimately proved right in their ideas as to where music (especially rock) was going? Regardless, I know which demographic will be sleeping on a big pile of money tonight as opposed to sleeping on the floor.

I suspect I am the last person at the party to hear this record as I understand the album was originally released on such an indie (in Nottingham?) is now being majorly overhauled by Warners (all for a price). At the end of the day however it is just still really distracting to hear my record collection from ten years ago being played on daytime FM when I thought that was the most cutting edge sounding shit that would forever remain marginalised. Truly, where is the (music) world heading? Kids today!

Thesaurus moment: disconcerting.

Gallows
Warner Music

DERIDE – TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT (SELF RELEASED)

With a pleasantly fuzzed up dirty Soundgarden-esqe guitar sound, this Myspace approaching band sustain my attention for exactly 22 seconds until the Ian Astbury style vocals kick in and spoil the show, reducing proceedings to little more than dated hair band cock rock middle class white man blues grunge rock of the most hormonal kind. That surely can’t be a good thing.

With a name that I keep confusing with Deidre (Barlow?), The Police lifted “S.O.S.” insertion into the first song only serves to extend the painfully commercial aimed intention and unoriginality of this CD. And then track two sounds like the Manic Street Preachers in the most AOR of modes.

Deride are a managed band destined to play pubs and rock clubs for eternity. I could go to the rock bush outside right now and pull two or three of them of the vine in a moment. Actually I am currently shitting a band like this out of my arse right now!

Sent by their management company (they’re managed!), unfortunately I was not supplied with a bio sheet to go with this CD so I have to make my own up with my imagination. And my limited imagination only serves me to believe that in their part time these guys are bricklayers after being the kings of the school in their formative years. Their record collections contains every CD Kerrang has given five Ks to in the past ten years. And with a demo cover that features a strewn bottle of Jack Daniels, packets of fags, unused Durex, some bird’s bikini top (or undies, I just can’t tell the difference these days), a rolled up twenty pound note and a circle of powder that may or may not (probably not) be blow – I don’t think you could mistake these guys for being emo. I wish I had never been sent this.

Thesaurus moment: obsolete.

Deride
MepWeb Management

BLACK FLAG – DAMAGED (SST RECORDS)

BLACK FLAG – DAMAGED (SST RECORDS)

Damaged is an astoundingly good record, one of the tightest examples ever of a unit firing on all cylinders able to maintain a deadly and economical ferocity that simply blows away anything that dare resembles an obstacle.

This was the record that gave birth to Henry Rollins. After a batch of singles this was the first Black Flag studio record proper and from the off it blitzes without flinching on the none too subtle “Rise Above” that serves as a rallying call to anyone looking to stand up for themselves when feeling in a stifling situation and circumstances. It is genuinely possible to tap into the energy and sentiments of this record almost immediately and very easily.

With Greg Ginn playing like his guitar is on fire, the hooks are super heavy and painfully blunt as they jolt the listener from out of their seat and serves them with an aural slap in the face and sometimes a kick in the groin with almost each song beginning with his trademark feedback.

Clocking in at 34 minutes the 15 songs represent towering examples of hardcore where the intensity actually manages to sustain longer than the power bursts of songs that populate the releases of most bands of the early eighties era. In Damaged the world sees Black Flag at its peak, at the height of its powers with probably the best line-up it would ever enjoy.

The most poppy moments of the record appear in the form of the “Six Pack” and “TV Party” singles both of which over the course of the band’s existence would experience numerous recording and be packaged and repackaged in a number of manners.

It is interesting to note that the majority of the songs were already in place prior to the arrival of Rollins and such his lyrical involvement at this stage was minimal in comparison to how he would later domineeringly be regarded as one of the main songwriters of the genre.

The album can generally be broken down into three types of Black Flag song: the poppy, quirky (as in “TV Party”), the intense outburst (as with “Police Story”) and the midtempo crunch of the two title tracks, which on this record displayed the most nightmarish visions.

Songs such as “Thirsty And Miserable” and “Depression” are the gnarly driving force of the album, the songs that punch holes in the wall where proceedings might otherwise experience a lull. I can’t help but feel as the Black Flag sounded matured that these were the tracks that fell by the wayside in preference to more intricate compositions that Ginn so strived to be playing.

For me this is easily one of the heaviest albums in history. At no point does the guitar sound ever feel weedy (as crime often committed by punk bands) and with the general ferocious landscape of the album it is easy to tell that this was an act walking it the way the talked it, living the life that they were singing about. And that was why none of them made any money (from this band).

If you have never heard this album you are lacking your stripes.

Thesaurus moment: halting.

Black Flag
SST Records

CAT POWER – YOU ARE FREE (MATADOR RECORDS)

CAT POWER – YOU ARE FREE (MATADOR RECORDS)

In the latter months of 2006, I found myself going through a very difficult period and this was truly the record that got me through it. “You Are Free” is one of those painfully personal albums that feels almost voyeuristic to listen to. Whereas a few years ago I was able to give my mother “The Greatest” as a birthday present, to an outsider this car crash could quite possibly make Chan Marshall appear to be the weirdest honeytrap alive.

It opens very solidly with the horribly explicit “I Don’t Blame You” with its confession via accusation feel. Cleverly the track makes you think that she doesn’t want to record this album, she has to.

The tone lightens with “Free” and some kind of declaration that there are choices in life. Personally despite the upbeat feel the song smothers itself in it’s too hard to believe conceit. Regardless of this Marshall voice sounds so carefree and light, dizzying in a strangely deluded manner. She ain’t fooling anybody. At times it almost reminds me of “Rubber Ring” by The Smiths with the manner in which it places so much importance in and on the value of music.

Avoiding “Good Woman” as it is a dud, “Speak For Me” plunders in at fourth spot playing out like a song that gives off the sensation of spinning around in circles as it builds to a heavy fall. Sadness accrues.

“He War” is the hit single of the piece. This is the initial peak, the song you immediately head to the first times you listen to the album. Landing just afterwards is “Shaking Paper” that comes accompanied by some chilled out drumming and subtle distortion broaching the mantra of “a good thing coming.” This song serves as the aftermath response to the antics of “He War.”

Following comes “Baby Doll” that continues the free motif of events slowing question “don’t you want to be free” over the most delicate and minimal of guitar playing. Once again Chan’s voice dominates proceedings as its legacy of wonder appears to be searching out of answers to implausible queries to hostile situations.

During my tough period (as noted at the beginning) the song that indulged me most was “Maybe Not.” As doubts filled in my head over the pretend/potential apple of my eye of that moment this song served to fuel the doubt in my mind about proceedings. There is a true resignation to this song, a genuine sadness that carries through to anyone paying attention to Chan’s mind. With this she is The Cooler.

Harsh revelations come along in the form of “Names” as a piano line accompanies a really harsh line of confession and description of people that have truly lost their way. How much of this is to be believed is debatable but in the manner that it is delivered and described it does come wholly convincing in a form that I have never witnessed in a song ever before. This quite possibly might be one of the most clearly explicit songs I have ever heard. This will not help you get through a hurricane.

After plunging to such depths to album trails off with a trio of downbeat snuffers. Closing track “Evolution” reads like some kind of ultimatum as a looping morose piano spreads thick across Marshall’s closing whispered salvo and the instruction “better make your mind up quick.”

I have to concede that this record went for my jugular and grabbed the whole thing. Had I taken the time to study the album when it was released I may have matured as a person soon as the depths of despair it appears to exude are the kind of stuff that should be treasured in the most warped of manners. Emerging from these experiences it comes as no surprise that as an artist the lady Cat Power is somewhat tortured but as her records become happier she does appear to have come out on the other side a stronger person. Whether that makes her records better is another thing but probably producing another album as hard as this could take too much toll on both the performer and the listener.

Amazing.

Thesaurus moment: grievous.

Cat Power
Matador Records

THE STOOGES – FUN HOUSE (ELEKTRA/RHINO)

THE STOOGES – FUN HOUSE (ELEKTRA/RHINO)

We live in a world where for the best part of a quarter of a decade this record was generally ignored and failed to gain the full plaudits it always deserved. Listening to it now for such a brief record it contains as much power, energy and personality than most modern bands manage to squeeze into a lifetime and career.

As with all classic albums that have served to inspire just about every possible comment about this record has ever been made. So with that in mind here is my take on the album.

I have to concede I was late arriving to the party on this one. For years I insisted that The Stooges was their best album mainly off the back of containing “I Wanna Be Your Dog” but also the lesser lauded “Real Cool Time.” Then I wound up discovering a gnarly vinyl copy of Search And Destroy in a used record stall in Clacton’s indoor market which quite frankly possibly scared me away from purchasing any more Stooges records for a long time. A brief flirtation with Metallic TKO did not serve me or the band very well.

Unfortunately I got into Fun House too late. The reunion happened and I shrugged my shoulders with nonchalance and indifference even though my favourite ever musician Mike Watt was on board playing bass.

Funhouse opens fucking well with the pulsing and menacing “Down On The Street” that sets out the band’s stall early on, hanging in the air before a right hook punctuates proceedings and the song explodes into action in the form of a riot.

Following quickly is “Loose” and perhaps the most masculine number in the history of song with its explicit intentions of “stick it deep inside” and promiscuous gestures. If you can get away with singing this song to a lady without getting castrated you should marry her on the spot.

The barrage and assault on the senses continues with perhaps the most famous song on the album in the form of “TV Eye”. Here is where the riffs are at. This is another dirty dirty song.

Ironically after being so explicit and down right rude a sense of remorse and self flagellation interrupts proceedings with “Dirt” which goes beyond introspection and into destruction. The slow groove which takes place definitely upsets the momentum of the record and brings an even darker tone to the table suggesting Iggy is not a very happy man.

The assault on the senses resumes with “1970” which plays out like a combination of “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and “1969” but also serves as a state of the nation address for the state of mind of both the band and its audience. Well Iggy screams “I feel all right” it feels delivered in a sense of defiance rather than reassurance. As Ron Asheton flies off into the ether the record finds itself back on track with a vengeance.

The album plays out with two saxophone drenched jams in “Fun House” and “L.A. Blues” as proceedings reach a blood stained conclusion. The Doors never got as good as this. And neither did Iggy’s solo career.

Every home should have a copy.

PS Rhino please re-released the seven disc Complete Fun House Sessions boxset.

Thesaurus moment: granite.

The Stooges
Elektra
Rhino

PAVEMENT – WOWEE ZOWEE (BIG CAT)

PAVEMENT – WOWEE ZOWEE (BIG CAT)

The third full album from Pavement is easily their best. It is a truly expansive effort covering many bases and ticking several boxes. I know people that wrote this off as country rock but is a very feeble and glib description, one the individual later subsequently ate in a word sandwich.

This is one of the most versatile and durable records of the grunge-era. Most would say that by the time this album came out the alternative nation had long since died and returned underground but unlike those who fell Pavement stayed in the game longer than most.

A deceptively intricate album, Wowee Zowee is eighteen tracks of blissed out weird that I always pretty coherent until the day that I listened to it in the changed context of over the office stereo at the studio Trevor Horn owns (Sarm) and suddenly it sounded like the weirdest thing ever held up against such generic pop music. For some reason that stereo made the record sound like the strangest set/collection of songs in history, playing out like somebody’s decent into madness. This served as a timely reminder of how goofy and oddball the most celebrated of music tastes in my life could and would be viewed by a bland white outsider. Ultimately though this shouldn’t have been too much of a shock to the system after reading an account by Paul Morley of the time he suggested The Fall to Horn for ZTT.

Staring out with “We Dance” it is immediately obvious that Malkmus is confident that he is on to something. The loser mentality of the lyrics come as a celebration of the rejected odd and as the words touch many nerves of the listener the lyrics find themselves naturally imprinted on the psyche and the scene is set.

“Rattled By The Rush” echoes a similar selection of sentiments with a slacker mentality and summertime breeze, which cripples the listener, dragging them away from tidying their room and combing their hair. Filled with resignation and some wonderful rhyming schemes this is perhaps the only song to ever effectively and efficiently employ a car horn as a key central instrument.

Track three “Black Out” establishes the seasonal feel of the record with the opening declaration of “Sunday drive….” and suddenly you begin to question the age of the author, considering premature dementia. Fortunately though as the song takes off it leaves the ground and never comes back.

With the mantra of “We’ve got the money” Pavement almost appear to be setting out to offend with “Brinx Job” as a smug sarcastic tone of wealth rears itself as a aural smile. With its rubberband jibes the hopefully faux (and not faux pas) mockery makes the song feel like the song equivalent of The Idiots.

“Grounded” is the first truly great song on Wowee Zowee. As delicate teardrop guitar licks open the song a Wintery and Christmas atmosphere is born from the opening lines of “doctors leaving for the holiday season, got crystal ice picks, no gift for the gab”, whatever that actually means. The song eventually builds to breaking point at which time the wash of guitars comes over drowns the audience in the most drenching manner. This marks the album’s true arrival.

An incendiary agenda next takes over as an angry rant against the industry caked in vicious distortion rallies in the two odd minutes of “Serpentine Pad” that literally rips through any possible lethargy on the part of the listener.

Generally considered the finest track on the album “Father To A Sister Of Thought” is indeed an emotive swoon that plays on elements of horse riding subtly in the wild western. This was the record that once soundtracked my worst car accident/incident but that is another story for another time.

Closing side A comes “Extradition” which is a question mess of a song that purposely falls apart halfway through as an invisible set of credits trickle down a non-existent screen in the hot and stuffy hotel room of some seedy Asian control. When the song resumes it sounds like the aftermath of bad sex and an argument.

In a contrary manner side B opens a frenzied attacked in the form of “Best Friends Arm” and (sordid) sentiments that could be taken (mistaken) for affection. It is perhaps as loose as the album gets and capped with a trademark Pavement break.

The words “come on in” resound as “Grave Architecture” takes to the podium in the jerkiest of manner. This is the track on the album that most resembles an epileptic fit and the sound of a band struggling to get out just what is on its mind. The frustration is tangible. You suspect that this is Prince Charles’ favourite track on the record.

“At & T” opens deceptively calmly until some crazed maniac (Spiral!) begins playing a line that appears to send Malkmus into swings of insania and it would appear a very accusatory frame. As he talks of room service and ends with the mantra of “whatever” you can’t quite fathom what kind of person is being addressed with this tome. By the end he is screaming and not for joy it would seem.

Bouncing ball near hardcore becomes the subject of the day with “Flux = Rad” as its frenzied attack on the senses experiences crazed drumming akin to Animal from The Muppets and a busted up guitar sound as impressive as the most overloaded four track while the lyrical content is the stuff of a true control freak.

In stark contrast “Fight This Generation” immediately follows in a much less passive aggressive and more submissive almost depressed tone that facially urges the listener to accept their lot while also rejecting all that is buying sold by the maniacs in control. The message to “fight this generation” then “fuck this generation” is not a nod to nihilism more a warning to be suspicious of those making a buck off the back of our bowel movements. In a way this could even be aimed at Douglas Coupland and all those chancers that were found cashing in on our misery during the final decade of the 20th century.

Thankfully the mood returns to something somewhat more upbeat as “Kennel District” offers some kind of fuzzy optimism despite asking the question “what didn’t I ask?” on our collective behalf. This feels like a love song even if it isn’t one. A wounded aftermath ensues like a burnt day at the beach.

As things begin to head towards an end and climax the record slows down to its most subdued as delicate chimes dominate proceedings with Malkmus holding court and sending out an apparent warning of stifling elements that will ultimately serve to undo. The song plays out like a firework display as it dies down before sporadically exploding and building to the heartiest of conclusions.

The drunk sounding six minute opus of “Half A Canyon” is the finale of Wowee Zowee as it encompasses all the prime aspects of what has just come before it, playing out like an overture of “Pavement: The Musical”. As the direction swings and changes halfway through the band begins to growl as the threatened epic horror ending occurs and the screams are to be taken literally and once through on the other side there will be slacker blood.

Coherence rains as once more pretend closing credits accompany the rather jointed pop effort of “Western Homes” that sits at track 18 with its acknowledgement that times have a changed (not necessarily for the best).

There is not a more solid collection of eighteen songs in the history of music. The alternative rock era never managed to spew out and make a more era defining statement in such a vague manner. If you do not own this album you do not like music.

Thesaurus moment: wonky.

Pavement
Big Cat

NEW YOUNG PONY CLUB – ICE CREAM (MODULAR/UNIVERSAL)

NEW YOUNG PONY CLUB – ICE CREAM (MODULAR/UNIVERSAL)

In an environment in which the New Young Pony Club really probably shouldn’t be taken too seriously, their laid back and methodical approach to proceedings is the kind of shower that makes for an enjoyable if not purposeful listen.

It is fairly obvious the crowd that this band is aiming (or being made to aim) straight for and at a time where CSS have been hitting the glossies, New Young Pony Club seem to think that they can also grab a fix.

Visually and attitude wise you sense you are dealing with some kind of modern model of X-Ray Spex, a spiky outfit tapping into the sound of the time without actually fully fitting in or plundering the senses so overtly or directly.

Bleeping like a computer this obvious choice for a single serves to strengthen their nonchalance of cool in an effort of echoing the voices of their audiences reluctant to dance but feeling obliged to anyway.

The b-side here is the demo version of Head In My Voice which almost sounds like a sedate early Hole song before the nose jobs, record deals and deaths coupled with a resounding post punk sound that can/would/will perfectly soundtrack many hep sipped drinks in the most exclusive of establishments inhabited by the silliest of soundtracks.

It could be easy for a thirty plus year old man to be intimidated by this record, to dismiss it as pap but taken face value and forgetting the immediate legacy is already gains it is a good way to end the day.

Thesaurus moment: decorous.

New Young Pony Club
Modular

THE GO! TEAM – GRIP LIKE A VICE (MEMPHIS INDUSTRIES)

THE GO! TEAM – GRIP LIKE A VICE (MEMPHIS INDUSTRIES)

From their second, their first recorded as a band unit, Grip Like A Vice is the first single and continues in the vein of car chase siren music coupled with savvy pop rap vocals and big beats.

Over the past couple of years I have found myself very much FOR The Go! Team even when those around me have denied them as being little more than Brighton/London Beach chancers pressing all the right indie hipster buttons in order to score points in a most no-brain method/manner.

Personally for the redeeming qualities within The Go! Team are dynamics second to none in this current music climate thanks to chunky rhythms and a genuinely decent flow from Ninja on vocals that make the songs they nail impossible not to move to.

The one flow I would pitch at The Go! Team is how they appear to have struck their familiar slightly too early in their career which as a result often unfortunately makes a number of their songs, including the singles, sound somewhat samey and sadly lacking in adventure. In the past I have made the smart remark that the band resembles the rap of Vanilla, Jade And Ebony from the beginning of Ghost World which despite being bitchy I do feel does occasionally hit the nail on the head.

Fortunately the b-side cover of Sonic Youth’s Bull In The Heather does display a playful sense of adventure and fun in an exuberant manner. The result outcome is both faithful to the original and individual in its execution adding a new spirit of lust to the song when the effort could easily have turned nasty and been a disaster judging by the band’s previous failed efforts at pulling off a Sonic Youth sound.

Yay for effort.

Thesaurus moment: pounding.

The Go! Team
The Go! Team interview
Memphis Industries

THE PSYCHOTIC REACTION – A MOMENT OF CLARITY (DEMO)

THE PSYCHOTIC REACTION – A MOMENT OF CLARITY (DEMO)

I have to concede from the sheer sight of this CD I was expecting a really horrible metal band but instead it is a chunky sounding indie rock band where all instruments sound as if they have been recorded at levels too high in the mix which makes this pleasantly as far from crisp as is acceptable. Perhaps by mistake they have tapped into a sound that they should quickly make their own.

Labelling themselves as “gentleman amateur”, their own created genre of rock that surprisingly hasn’t been snapped up by the NME yet, the two songs plod along like from a quirky band you fear you might see playing in your local forever, until you get off your arse and leave your hometown. This is a band that you have to outgrow.

With a bass sound that sounds like moving furniture and a Hammond that sometimes sounds as if it is playing a different song this is almost a classic piece of indie rock that bands just do not seem to invest in making any more – the almost bombastic chorus hooks reminding me of earnest early nineties bands around the circles of Ned’s Atomic Dustbin and Mega City Four, music to some ears but not to others.

As I griped above this is not resoundingly modern music it is more the continuation of something that is waning more in popularity by the year. In times where indie rockers seem to be more interested in finding their beaten down white man blues sound from their middle class surroundings, the quirky celebration of student rock has never felt more rejecting. It would be fun for the Psychotic Reaction to find fame but not really likely.

Thesaurus moment: antediluvian.

Psycotic Reaction

HAVANA GUNS – N.Y.C.S. (CIGARETTE MUSIC)

HAVANA GUNS – N.Y.C.S. (CIGARETTE MUSIC)

With an obvious penchant for New York, this lush sounding London five piece are of the female fronted indie pop breed looking to update on the Blondie. I would not say this kind of band is uncommon but it is rare you actually find an act that successfully manages to pull the feat off.

The band remind me most of all of Sleeper, which is either a sound ten years too late or one just ready for a return/revival. Lyrically however the band are, dare I say, somewhat tepid revisiting grounded topics that have been ploughed to death through the seven ages of rock that there apparently are although the French twinge on the lyrics does lend them some kind of wonderful.

Ultimately though the guitars too dry for me, not clean just bland lacking force and energy – this is pop music that is just not popular.

Thesaurus moment: barren.

Havana Guns
Cigarette Music

SHELLAC – 1000 HURTS (TOUCH AND GO)

SHELLAC – 1000 HURTS (TOUCH AND GO)

This record arrived perfectly timed both personally and culturally. Basically 1000 Hurts represents what was going on at the beginning of the millennium, while anger was still stoked and the fear of 9/11 was yet to still take over. At this point we almost felt fearless and definitely capable in our desire to carry the flame in the name of independent rock and do so with a real snarl.

1000 Hurts is a harsh record. That is an understatement. Coming after Terraform here was a set of ideas with more focus and direction, a record that was ripe and had an audience aching to receive. The moment was still spiky and the individuals involved still had some fight to match their intellect.

Over the years I have tried to sell the idea of Shellac to metal heads as being the hardest music imaginable but never have I been quite able to snag the sale.

The album opens with its title and catalogue being read out. Everything about this package is made to look analogue and organic, especially the packaging that in a way looked straight out of the studio, straight out Abbey Road from its mastering. The vinyl box (no sleeve) alone was as huge a statement as anything. Like a fool when the record was released I ordered the CD version only to discover in a moment of depressed realisation that the LP came with a CD of the album inside. Luckily I got my order changed before it was despatched. This was the first time any such gesture was made, one that appeared to serve and display just how cheap and nasty the CD format is and how overpriced and overblown it must be if a band and indie label could include a copy on that medium for nothing. Needless to say we all were tickled and excited.

It begins with “Prayer To God” which is without doubt the most explicit and pummelling album opener in the history of record music. As to where these sentiments come from is plain terrifying as Albini takes up the mindset of the most bitter and scolded individual looking to take revenge on not only the man that stole his woman but the woman herself. Not since Rapeman had his words ever sounded so vindictive. To accompany such horrors and a raging chorus/mantra of “fucking kill him! Fucking kill him! Kill him, just fucking kill him!” is a jagged twang of a wooden sounding guitar being bent to the point of destruction.

The ride continues in a similar manner/mood/mentality/methodology as “Squirrel Song” begins with the declaration “this is a sad fucking song, we’ll be lucky if I don’t bust out crying” as the cymbals of Todd Trainor take a real battering in response. Are so many squirrels a hallucination? This ain’t no metaphor, goddam this is real.

“Mama Gina” follows sounding like some kind of horror story shanty, a detailed description of a death in the family and the response that it causes in the process. The winding guitar line sounds almost like some electric Hitchcock score, especially when Weston’s bubbling bassline comes to a boil. As the tragedy reaches tears the whole event kicks off and the unit fully explodes into action creating the kind of aftermath you would experience of a car crashing into an elephant. An elephant dancing maybe.

From hear the record falls apart with “QRJ” which feels like the stereo has slipped off its dial and fallen between stations. As Albini’s guitar begins to sound like a chiming Grandfather clock Weston takes centre stage scrapping away at what debris remains. The result is filler. A bridging track seemingly designed to lend the listener a migraine and disgruntled demeanour.

Things get back on track with “Ghosts” and another haunted escapade. Again Weston’s rules the roost for the early portion of the track before it gets reined back in with more descriptions of dancing and the expression that comes with. As the song builds tighter it begins to clobber all in its sight before stepping up a gear as the pace reaches some kind of celebration.

There is a self loathing tone attached to the opening of side two and “Song Against Itself” as Bob does the honours until Albini comes rasping in as another confrontational execution occurs. Despite this intrusion Weston still wins.

“Canaveral” is one of the more visceral and direct moments of the Shellac back catalogue. Putting himself in the place of a cuckolded husband again a pure hatred spews forth endeavouring to question and pummel an individual (“I won’t say his name”) encroaching negatively on/in the narrator’s life. Indeed “what you think could make him stick his cock in my wife?” These are some of the most clear and direct lyrics I have ever experienced leaving no room for confusion only the propagation of ideas and scenarios. Eventually the story ends with the suggestion human arson (“fertilise the rice in China with the cinders of his remains”) before a nasty bassline comes in as starting a new country (a cult) gets suggested with “enough stamps and money there and they’re all have Oswald’s face.” Just where are these ideas and concepts come from?

By this point if the listener does not have a headache the introduction of Todd Trainor to vocals is one designed to serve to hurt. As ever he sounds fucked up while probably still looking like Dot Cotton in the process. On “New Number Order” as multi tempo track plays out in the background he takes on the taste of actually changing the order numbers. This truly is a desire, statement and exercise far surpassing the skills of mere mortal men.

Tenderness returns to proceedings with “Shoe Song” and a track that always perversely reminded me of Slint. The apparent likeness for me comes in the rousing climax of the song coupled with the generally compassionate manner in which the vocals are shipped all culminating in a very “Good Morning, Captain” like “I miss you” bellow.

The record climaxes with Albini, Weston and Trainor calling you out. “Watch Song” is their fight song, complete with chops that sound like fist jabs and a bassline resembling a descending boot. I remember the first time I heard the band play this (ATP 2000) and at the time it thoroughly reminded me of “Kool Thing” as its entrance intro carries a similar kind of sequence. In a world of being passive aggressive the orchestration attached to this song thoroughly matches the emotions that come attached to such a state. As ever the track loops and lumbers its way to the finish, taking a break to stamp out some kind of fire held within. As with all good things they leave it to Todd to close things off.

A few months later I would be going through some kind of weird breakup/rejection and this record became my almost permanent soundtrack, the score to my snarl (a score that never got settled). I even scratched out a plan for a ten chapter novella based on these songs and indeed called 1000 Hurts. Later inspired I would also begin a list of 1000 Hurts for my fanzine No Pictures. This list never got finished.

This was how it was all supposed to turn out and be.

Shellac
Shellac interview
Shellac live
Touch And Go

TIME ZONE – WORLD DESTRUCTION (CELLULOID RECORDS)

TIME ZONE – WORLD DESTRUCTION (CELLULOID RECORDS)

When this song was used as the opening track to season four of The Sopranos it was placed perfectly. As Tony walked down his driveway in his bathrobe to collect his newspaper post 9/11 it just felt like the perfect statement of the times.

For years Time Zone felt like the great lost track. A video of the song exists, which is indeed the first time and place I heard it, but seldom does it appear on MTV. Sometimes I felt that I had imagined the song – a hip hop track from the early eighties with a full strength John Lydon spitting over it. Had the rap/punk crossover happened years before I had realised?

Arriving shortly before the Run DMC/Aerosmith crossover this is often credited as being the first rock and hip hop crossover and it was all downhill from here. This is a truly towering song, one that defined the age and pushed a message too heavy for mass consumption. This was the nuclear age.

Produced by Bill Laswell (Material) the pairing of Afrika Bambaataa and John Lydon was a righteous idea, two major heavyweights from the first generation of the most exciting music movements of their era combining respective gifts and processing so much power in the despatch.

Born in 1984 it is frightening to consider the age of this song now but incredibly pleasing and satisfying to note that it has aged very well, managing to remain sounding fresh and relevant. This was the fruition of true innovation from the hands of experts.

Immediately from the beginning it packs one hell of a thump as the Zulu chant exchanges blows with the punk oik squall running in tandem with some kind of mutated harmony. The words being spat out are rapid fire, as the song bridges you are relieved because as a listener you are finding you require a breather yourself. Listened to now around a quarter of a century later the lyrics are genuinely cutting, repeatedly hitting the nail on the head in the most accurate of measures, it almost feels like the Nostradamus of alternative of music. Perhaps we were always doomed from the start.

This record still requires elevation.

Thesaurus moment: source.

Time Zone
Celluloid Records

SUPER FURRY ANIMALS – THE MAN DON’T GIVE A FUCK (CREATION RECORDS)

SUPER FURRY ANIMALS – THE MAN DON’T GIVE A FUCK (CREATION RECORDS)

I bought this version of the song when I was freshly unemployed from blogging, quite frankly I had nothing better to do than spend money I did not have in an effort to rail and rally against the system and hate any and all form of authority. I probably even bought this one day either on the way to or from signing on.

In many ways this record was the dream ticket for me but I’ll be fucked if I realised it at the time. Having already purchased the single when it first came out (complete with Robin Friday cover et al) a new live twenty minute version really wasn’t what I was itching for at the time. Shame on me.

It opens in the best way possible, with a Bill Hicks sample looping and looping pummelling home the revolutionary declarations that Hicks was so special at dispatching. “All governments are liars and murders” indeed.

The song arrives like an alien landing, the spinning and circling audio then submits, giving way to a “Stairway To Heaven” like opening until the beats kick in. When the song finally explodes into action it tastes like a devastating blow to the senses, a smack of warped Hammond lifted from better times and a chilling mantra that will fester a negative attitude within moments.

There is a stomping glamour attached to proceedings, a party atmosphere that really shouldn’t be associated with such a nihilistic message. The swing of the track is pretty reminiscent of “Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)” by Kenny Rogers & The First Edition. Often during the process the song appears to stop for breathe before bouncing back stronger and firmer, mesmerising anything sitting around as the hard beats of a nasty rave serve as the ultimate of bridges.

By the time the song returns having come full circle all is love and the band has sounded like a revelation and revolution all in one foul swoop. Exceptional and excessive, masters at work.

It all ends with an air raid siren and the suggestion of a warning that should be heeded.

Thesaurus moment: intimation.

Super Furry Animals
Creation Records

THE JESUS LIZARD/NIRVANA – PUSS/OH THE GUILT (TOUCH AND GO)

THE JESUS LIZARD/NIRVANA – PUSS/OH THE GUILT (TOUCH AND GO)

With hindsight this is quite probably the best/greatest split single and also quite possibly the beginning of the end for one of the bands.

This record was supposedly being arranged for release before Nevermind broke so when it came out it was almost as if it had been something of an afterthought for one of the bands and something of a sheepish first time appearance for the other.

It was always The Jesus Lizard track “Puss” that wiped the floor with the Nirvana off cut. In “Puss” you have perhaps one of the greatest 100 songs of all time possessing guitars so dense and solid but still fully under control it serves as a rare example of a real bulldozer of band playing/performing at the height of their powers. Later in the middle of the song and there is that drum break this was a moment that proved just painful when listened to through headphones late at night so that the parents would not overhear and become terrified of the frenzied horror brand of music their son was now listening to.

The whole way through David Yow’s vocals just sound truly insane exhibiting the eloquence of a man on an extensive criminal rampage. “Give me something to stop the bleeding” – is one of the great opening lines of any record, just what the fuck is he singing about? As you delve further into the words of the piece, of the coherent moments you are able to pick out the chorus of “get her out of the truck” only serves to further confirm that something horrific is going down on this scene and in this man’s mind. Of all those metal bands that had their lyrics analysed and disembowelled never once did I ever hear anything like this in a song. As Yow’s vocals are split between headphones it feels and sounds as if there is a devil sat on each shoulder. There’s something very damaged about this band.

As you pick yourself up off the floor and head to the Nirvana you have to concede that you are being met with something of an anticlimax. Here was the biggest band in the world being taken apart by people sharper and weirder than themselves, this was a giant killing.

The Nirvana “Oh, The Guilt” was almost a demo. Famously recorded during the same session at the “great” “lost” Nirvana “You Know You’re Right” the sad reality was even though it wasn’t a bad song it didn’t sound like a band that was on fire and did bear more than a passing resemblance to another song called “Curmudgeon” that had appeared on the b-side of “Lithium”. This was not why Nirvana had sold millions of records or why we loved them, they had no changed the face of music with material like this.

Upon release there was a frenzied buzz about this record and the limited edition nature of the quantities. On the week of release me and two friends skived off school and headed up to Colchester on the train to purchase the record from a shop called World Class that also specialised in an amazing line of live bootlegs while behind the counter Ben the owner would bob to rave and jungle music with a scary coolness and menace. The night before the video for “Puss” had played on 120 Minutes on MTV and there truly was a real buzz surrounding this release. With the "be quick or it will be gone" mentality/nature of the release I was actually heard aloud debating whether it might even make number in the charts.

In the end it reached eleven in the UK charts making it one of the major new release entries that week and producing the now infamous brief clip of The Jesus Lizard’s video on Top Of The Pops. It felt like the victory was ours.

Needless to say the single dropped like a turd out of the charts the following week and suddenly it was almost as if it had never happened. For months, almost years later CD single copies of the record remained available at inflated prices, especially in April 1994.

With amazing cover art from Malcolm Bucknall and the painting “Old Indian And White Poodle” that perfectly compliments the music held within, this is/was a single in a league of its own.

How green was our fucking valley?

Thesaurus moment: comet.

The Jesus Lizard
Nirvana

Touch & Go

MORRISSEY – SUEDEHEAD (EMI)

MORRISSEY – SUEDEHEAD (EMI)

It feels so weird and joyous to consider that this was ever such a popular, mainstream tugging single. This was probably one of the songs that made me dislike Morrissey so much when I first heard him but with hindsight I was, with the rest of his oeuvre, taking him and it for too much face value.

With a title taken from one of the most masculine and confused pieces of literature, there are words here to match those sentiments, to echo the message and convey the unabsorbed pain that is being expressed as nuisance.

This is an apologetic anthem that transcends sexuality, genre and gender. The celebration here is in loneliness and the failure that has resulted in this complaint and condition. Outside today it is a sunny day but still cold and chilled with it, which isn’t a bad metaphor for this song.

Soon the sorry turns into sickness though and implied stalking becomes part of the agenda and obsession prevails. This really isn’t a healthy song to be buying into and thus came/comes the utter appeal of wearing your emotions on your sleeve, even joyfully indulging in them when they are at their worst as the natural human condition is to bring a person down, down to your level.

This is his James Dean song, that essential first solo single that needed to present him as composed and powerful. Mission accomplished.

Thesaurus moment: stalker.

Morrissey
EMI

BIS – THE SECRET VAMPIRE SOUNDTRACK EP (CHEMIKAL UNDERGROUND)

BIS – THE SECRET VAMPIRE SOUNDTRACK EP (CHEMIKAL UNDERGROUND)

If there was one single/release that kick-started the indie scene in the mid to late nineties it was Bis with their lo-fi stomper “Kandy Pop”. Seemingly coming out of nowhere here appeared to be the weirdest band ever to appear on Top Of The Pops, Big Breakfast and a whole host of other mainstream entertainment shows. Within days they appeared to have leapt out of their bedrooms and straight into our homes via the television and radio. It may have only lasted about five minutes and soon the adult world had kicked them back into touch but the brief explosion was enough to send the smart kids into some kind of excited frenzy.

The post-grunge years were killer on the small-town music fan. After having something really great that was available and within touching distance suddenly the sense of fun and adventure had been grabbed back and put into the hands of all the parent approved Britpop bands that were dancing on Kurt Cobain’s grave within six month.

Seemingly in response to this Bis came down from Scottish pushing their version (the latest version) of the DIY ethic and a seemingly flatlining indie scene was suddenly rejuvenated again.

There is a ripe energy to “Kandy Pop” that sounds just as good today as it did back then. Manda Rin sounds like Kathleen Hanna as eagerly constructed and impatiently awaited hooks really sting the listener. The spiky sentiments of the song are strangely self assured considering the scene they were at the top of the tree of. Relenting and affirming this was a true oasis.

With “Secret Vampires” they nailed a genre years ahead of its reinvention, comparing and repainting a nation of shut ins as something actually more cooler than they were. The boy-girl vocal exchange tasted like Blur exchanged for Huggy Bear.

The “teen-c power!” anthem ultimately proved a sad declaration housed in a wonderful piece of titular indie white boy hip hop rhymes. This was a band with so many hooks that any plaintiff could only take offence at the gestures being presented to them. Taking notes and cues from the success and failure of Riot Grrrl here was great notion that just needed a bit more backbone and experience. They had enough kids in their hands and just didn’t really know what to do with them.

Closing comes “Diska” which sounded almost like Devo in nappies several years before Disney provided that abortion.

Everything about this package was great. The sleeve looked like a fanzine extract with just enough colour to make it glam on the correct scale. These were last throws.

Thesaurus moment: spry

Bis
Bis interview
Chemikal Underground

GRINDERMAN – NO PUSSY BLUES (MUTE)

GRINDERMAN – NO PUSSY BLUES (MUTE)

There is a true feel of rejuvenation to Nick Cave’s music these days and rather than the new commercial heights found with Dig Lazarus Dig I would argue that it is actually the Grinderman record that has seen Nick Cave’s output at the best it has been for probably a decade.

A large part of this I feel can be put down to the influence and input of Warren Ellis. He maybe the reason why Blixa let the roost of the Bad Seeds (to date not confirmed) but this guy is no jobber, he is solid in sound and terrifyingly dirty with it. The longer his beard has grown the larger his influence in the music of Cave appears to have solidified.

Sensible points aside, these are the greatest lyrics of the last ten years, explicitly addressing rejection from the fairer sex and the pathetic attempts a man will make with view to reversing the decision. I genuinely cannot recall a better description of the male human condition, as his physical house falls into disarray and begins to come apart at the seams. With these words Nick Cave attaches a nonchalant dose of humour while at the same time being wholeheartedly earnest in his proclamations.

This song is a truly exhilarating experience containing a sense of getting one over on every lady that has rejected the listener ever. Cutting to the bone these words ring scarily true with lines such as “I changed the sheets on my bed, I combed the hairs across my head, I sucked in my gut but still she said that she just didn’t want to” defining the futility of conquest that is never going to happen. All in all it is delivered like a sermon or the greatest lecture never made.

Accompanying the statements comes a tension building series of strokes from the engine room of the Grinderman, a sound akin to a ticking time bomb waiting to explode onto the scene, there was never a click trick with more intent or presence. Every player on this record is tight and performing at the height of their ability, restrained and definite the sound to this scene is akin to a look of disgust prior to lashing out. Perfection.

Thesaurus moment: prevail.

Grinderman
Mute Records

THE BREEDERS – SAFARI EP (4AD)

THE BREEDERS – SAFARI EP (4AD)

I’ve always liked that “Safari” is track three on this CD. In the grand scheme of things it makes no odds to either the world or the quality of the work but it just tickles me that they chose to do that.

“Safari” is a real contradiction of a show, a gulp of breath from a mouth that butter wouldn’t melt in while also being seductively menacing to boot. By now Kelley Deal was now on board in addition to a drummer expertly named “Mike Hunt” (something smells fishy in Ohio, very Walford).

Proceedings open with “Do You Love Me Now?” which is a song that suffers from swirling emotions, of displaying too much vulnerability and questioning to a degree that is doomed to fail. Thankfully the guitars are loud in a climate that suggests there is a future.

In contrast “Don’t Call Home” is an accusatory and fantastic scrapper of a song succinctly recreating attitude and menace. Kim sings like it is a threat before the sound of a squealing guitar akin to scraping up against glass makes a positive abortion out of proceedings.

“Safari” is “Safari”, a classic song with invigorating vocals that come served with lashings of pay off and the kind of bassline that could steer any song towards greatness. With a surprising amount of whimsy in tow this is a song that actually makes me feel young, reminding of happy moments and the lightness of being young. By the time it arrives at its whispered break all things around me in surround are beginning to appear that much more brighter with perspective and a renewed enthusiasm for the climate and atmosphere. There is genuine magic within this track, the construct of an act nailing their ambition and achieving everything.

Things close off with “So Sad About Us” sounding like Belly and more college rock than ever (my own definition of college rock being a grunge lite song that was fit enough to appear in a Nickelodeon show or My So Called Life at the beginning of the 90s). It is actually a cover of a song by The Who and as ever the more staid writing of a band from a different era comes clambering through to mixed returns.

Exceptional performance.

Thesaurus moment: brisk.

The Breeders
4AD

ARAB STRAP – THE CLEARING (CHEMIKAL UNDERGROUND)

ARAB STRAP – THE CLEARING (CHEMIKAL UNDERGROUND)

Not the most obvious of singles to come from their first album, the point I realised that this band was going to be big (indie style) was hearing this record play out loud and proud at the late Covent Garden Rough Trade shop.

Breaking the song down its excellence comes in its simplicity and the manner in which the strength of Moffat’s lyrics truly crash through. Sounding like a drunken telephone call to a rejecting lover or fancy, the suffocating extent of emotion displayed is emphasised and empowered by the crashing and distorting drum crashes of the background that motor the track resembling some kind of aching/pounding headache only serving to make a bad situation worse. Here was the rudest of awakenings.

With their emergence Arab Strap sounded rarely and genuinely unique, just like no other act I had ever heard before. So extremely and vividly Scottish the tone of proceedings gave it some kind of gritty working class authenticity coming from a part of the country that holds a magic kind of wrong mystery to outsiders looking up.

The single version of “The Clearing” comes with extra trimmings. The beats are louder accompanied by some kind of scream that is similar to a howling wolf. In the context of the album it probably would not have worked being too dressed up in comparison to the minimal tone of that collection but held aloft alone it is well padded. Featuring guest spots from Isobel Campbell and Chris Geddes of Belle And Sebastian extra keys and strings lend the song additional drive and depression as the description of the clearing remains sounding bleak and sexually distracting, emotionally devoid and potentially home to rabbits. As proceedings get extended and dragged out it just feels like bad sex and an ambient groan.

The other two remixes of the song on the release are an exploration into sequence subtly lapping on new drum beats and patterns, repositioning elements of the track giving the vocals more room to breathe.

It ends with another of Aidan’s under the duvet ditties where he appears to be whisper singing into a Dictaphone in an effort not to awake or arouse the neighbours or himself. These are valuable documents.

Special.

Thesaurus moment: droop.

Arab Strap
Arab Strap interview
Chemikal Underground

THE FALL – LIVE AT THE WITCH TRIALS (STEP FORWARD/CASTLE MUSIC)

THE FALL – LIVE AT THE WITCH TRIALS (STEP FORWARD/CASTLE MUSIC)

Having aged surprisingly well the first album by The Fall is full of luscious snarl and a meandering execution destined and designed to alienate the most square. Emerging from the grime of Manchester this is a blunt statement, very representative of the factory mentality that emerges from such a world. As such it is a pleasingly working class affair, albeit it one with fancy artistic leanings you sense the authors would prefer to turn into tatters at the drop of beat off such an impression.

To buy into The Fall from the ground floor must have been a most exhilarating moment. Immediately from the off confusion rains supreme as Smith repeatedly declares how he is in a trance, seemingly bemused by the input from the most unfortunate of circumstances. This is not a higher state of mind, just a different method/mode of encoding and delivering the facts.

At any time in music history there is a true kudos due to any act bold enough to spew out this kind of statement from the beginning. It is scary to consider just how young these combatants would have been in comparison to how grizzly you would expect them all to be currently. From the off though you sense a mentality of who needs fans when an act is so self contained in itself, so self reliant and undesiring of adulation. Such as Jesus.

Benefiting from unique lyrical spitting it is not only this element that makes the record stand out as the playing is truly all over the shop, wonky and undisciplined in the most perfect manner. While punk was still shifting units with lowest common denominator product here was an act cleaning up on an artist level in comparison.

With “Rebellious Jukebox” their statement of arrival is made in explicit terms as everyone plays to their strengths in defiance of not resembling anyone or anything else on the playlist.

To suggest this band was ahead of its time would be both a grand understatement and disservice to the ingenuity of the outfit. I don’t think PIL ever reached the heights and invention of this opening effort.

By the time the album reaches “Music Scene” it has reached fruition as all bile gets extracted and arrives in ultimate measures. I cannot imagine a more damning composition being unleashed at such a time, encapsulating and eclipsing all its path in one foul swoop. For the win.

With its lyrical repetition and thundering convulsive beats “No Xmas For John Quays” sounds like the first hardcore song spewing out a time when punk was very much The Exploited and Anti Nowhere League clinging to a warped variation/conceit of what punk became. With its garbled and distorted delivery the words get lent a duel meaning/purpose basically born out of confusing the listener, which ultimately is a trick that they have been employing ever since.

The nail that sticks out gets hammered.

Thesaurus moment: prang.

The Fall
Step Forward
Castle Music

SONIC YOUTH – DEATH VALLEY ‘69 (MY SO CALLED RECORDS)

SONIC YOUTH – DEATH VALLEY ‘69 (MY SO CALLED RECORDS)

Emerging with a scream and a bassline that sounds like it is being played on rubber bands a gnarly ferocity and urgency engulfs proceedings as the spectre of supposed sick individuals come down from the hills to get up to no good is expressed. With Lydia Lunch in tow this is the aural equivalent of napalm, the sound of an undesirable fabric of society taking responsibility into their own hands and causing bedlam in the process. Creepy crawl.

Its no secret that this about the Manson family and the things they did. There was always a strange kind of obsession for the movement amongst the bands on SST which I guess was due to events being on their doorstep as the hippy dream was mangled by some kind of terrifying force that would always be misunderstood and confusing to anyone outside the circle. I guess this was taking the death of the hippy to the Nth dream and in a warped way it was revolutionary.

From across the country Sonic Youth will have read and watched about this in New York wondering just what the fuck was going on in the West. In Death Valley ‘69 here is a truly frightening sounding record with its chanted vocals that sound like a cult mass committing a sacrifice to their cause. With lines such as “she started to holler, I didn’t wanna” only the worst possible of images can be conjured.

The playing on this record is equally disorientating with a methodical and tempered drive while in the background a snarling inferno of noise gradually builds before coming to the forefront for the bloody conclusion of the song. Drawn in and destroyed.

Arrested on sight.

Thesaurus moment: cacophony.

Sonic Youth

TEEBO/LANDO – SPLIT SINGLE (GRINGO RECORDS)

TEEBO/LANDO – SPLIT SINGLE (GRINGO RECORDS)

This was where it all began, our initial release on Gringo Records and that first big mountain get over that, if nothing else, would always serve as the best of learning experiences and experiences in general.

With hindsight the part were larger and more valuable than the sum, in many ways this was the best release for the label offering a dense and murky sound underneath layers of noise that housed many delights if you bothered to exhibit the patience to investigate.

The single was recorded in the backroom of a pub in Halstead which is a Podunk town thirty minutes from Colchester surrounded by greenery and small-town mentality. All four songs were recorded on four track and later transferred to DAT at the most of basic and anal of small studios. This was 1997 and computers were still to take over the world, they were poking their head into proceedings but still were pretty much the domain of nerds and millionaires.

Originally I was supposed to be drummer in Teebo, even buying a new drum kit from Sound Attak (no Cs there) in the process, but cars issues meant that I missed the session and eventually Dom from Lando drummed on the record, admittedly doing a better job than I ever would have (he could drum for starters).

At the time the music climate was open to bands and labels such as us. Bis had just experienced their freak pop hit “Kandy Pop” and Chemikal Underground were starting up and winning as the DIY independent music scene briefly hit a healthy stride again.

Listened to the first time in years now it holds up pretty well. Releasing the record on seven inch vinyl was always going to be forgiving to the sound of a four track recording as one format blemish would serve to paper over the cracks of another format blemish.

Time has been kind on the record as listening to the Teebo side the tracks still sound accomplished and positively fizzy. Perhaps they were sold short at the time origin, killed at birth unceremoniously by too many discerning voices. On “Spanos” there remains a true energy and spirit, a crashing ingenuity that suffers from a lack of resources and not a lack of ideas or talent. The guitar playing still sounds crisp and defining, succeeding despite the elements and managing to overcome the minimal equipment that it is being conceived on. I have to concede to forgetting just how high in the mix the bass was and just what it adds to the sound. The way the track ends with the refrain “just got bored” is the kind of snide snarl I have seen a hundred times since and seldom/rarely so well done. As the side reaches the second track “Waverly House” it displays a seachange in proceedings and an element to the band’s repertoire that I don’t think was ever seen again in any of their future bands/endeavours. The closing psychosis of a bass sinking in wah and a guitar screaming to be heard is the kind of fiddly stuff only welcome in certain hearts. I’m not really sure how this was supposed to succeed.

For the record I never did describe the songs of Lando as being “out of context, a consistent motor of anger and madness.” Would I really say something like that? Instead I think these days after listened to the record I would be more inclined to point out the similarities of “Cop Out” to The Stooges, especially “I Wanna Be Your Dog”. For me “Cop Out” was always the star of this release, a beautifully distorted charge with one hell of a hook employed to draw the listener in while the drums rattled in a jingle bell manner. As the song comes to a close it all goes Mudhoney in the best possible way. To listen to is to love. The following effort “Adjacent Tyrants” is a much less raucous effort, rattling a sounding very much like a band listening to a lot of Pavement and early Sonic Youth. If somewhat more subdued than the first track the fuzz is still there along with attitude and given some excessive volume on the stereo (its what it needs) there is a real hidden punch to this subtle winner.

Now having listened to far too many records in subsequent years and been quite literally sickened by so many bad first efforts here was the real deal, a genuinely great first release that may have sounded like it was recorded by teenagers because it was but teenagers in possession of more ideas than hundreds of over yearning musicians their age, post past and present.

Sadly despite having played live shows before the recording and release of this record not long afterwards both bands split/broke up for various reasons. Too soon.

Thesaurus moment: prize.

Lando interview
Gringo Records

SUEDE – THE DROWNERS (NUDE)

SUEDE – THE DROWNERS (NUDE)

“The Drowners” is one of those songs that probably shouldn’t be great but at the end of the day it just truly is. Ultimately it just represents a certain moment in time that was defining to a group of people (such as myself) and even though there was better music about at the time that should have been completely occupying my stereo I (and maybe you) couldn’t help but allow this record (and the band) into my consciousness.

Right from the start Suede always felt like something of a one trick pony with a paper thin singer warbling over paper thin guitar riffs while everyone and everything else around them (including me) generally tended to be smelly and aggressive, disinterested in another Bowie fop. Thankfully with their much hyped debut record they delivered at a time when almost all was (quite rightly) American.

I still remember vividly the early days of Suede, of them appearing on The Word doing “Brass In Pocket” and of Brett Anderson doing photo shots that appeared in Select magazine and genuinely made him look like a bird (and not in a good way).

Bernard Butler opens “The Drowners” in glam rock manner akin to “Ziggy Stardust” and this was perhaps probably where all the Bowie clone accusations got started. This then was not helped by Anderson verbally mincing like their apparent hero in a very weedy fashion. How were these people ever going to mature or develop when so dead on arrival?

Then something magic happens to this song: it’s memorable and possesses genuine hooks. Suddenly you get the sense that these two have taken on an idea and actually managed to build on it rather than slip into some kind of lazy homage. When Brett chimes off about drowning and accusing someone of “taking me over” all can be forgiven as the swooping flow of the piece genuinely serves to lift the listener regardless of all the frilliness attached to proceedings. With all the kissing and weirdness it just doesn’t sound like a nice place to be. Brett, is this really what its like to be homosexual?

“To The Birds” occupies second place on this CD single with an almost generic, almost shoegazer type run out that listened to now almost fifteen years later sounds probably more individual and maybe even better than upon release. Here you can see why Luke Haines apparently held the band in such disdain, this was what he was also doing only not with such a pretty band or face. That said by the end of the song I just want it to fucking die.

The final track here is “My Insatiable One” which I seem to remember appearing on a magazine compilation tape or CD. It always reminded me of a Radiohead song for some reason even though listened to now Anderson makes than comparison sound somewhat inaccurate. This is actually a very strong track, perhaps more reminiscent of Blur on helium. Meandering and levitating in a classic indie manner coming full circle it is easy to concede to just how much promise there was to Suede at the beginning.

As with the first three singles the artwork here is striking with a cutting image crashing across a blank white cover and the iconic Suede logo preventing any kind of identity confusion for the purchaser even if there may have been in the music.

These were great times.

Thesaurus moment: capital.

Suede
Nude Records

THE VANITY SET – THE BIG BANG (SHE-HE-IT RECORDS)

THE VANITY SET – THE BIG BANG (SHE-HE-IT RECORDS)

Sauntering into the vision of escapades centred around it there is something distinctly lush about the first offering from Jim Sclavunos’ latest undertaking. With a roaming bassline that can run with the best of them immediately it is blindingly obvious that his time spent with Nick Cave has rubbed off on him in a most positive of fashions.

Creaming out like a Birthday Party track on downers the menace to proceedings is subtle, distrusting and evocative of the most tense and testing social occasions. This is a tight crowd/mob, both musically and spiritually it would seem.

Coming out of New York this has a big city noise attached to it, a definite coolness that could equally have come from any dark portal across the globe as it rains evocative of also Crime & The City Solution and would not have felt out of place turning up in some shady club scene of an eighties Berlin movie such as Wings Of Desire.

Sclavunos continues to wear Bad Seeds on his sleeve as on the flipside the band serves up a cover of the Nick Cave b-side “Sheep May Safely Graze” with vocals delivered by Alice Texas. It feels a fitting composition to be lent to an act carrying the moniker The Vanity Set as the string laden hymn carries a heavy burden within its content.

Thesaurus moment: intoxicate.

The Vanity Set
She-He-It Records

SEBADOH – BEAUTY OF THE RIDE (DOMINO)

SEBADOH – BEAUTY OF THE RIDE (DOMINO)

With “Beauty Of The Ride” Lou Barlow thankfully displayed his more energetic side of song writing as opposed to the slow, sappy break-up songs that came to represent his contribution to the cannon of Sebadoh while Jason Loewenstein would run rampant with all the headstrong, firecrackers of songs. In many ways this is the song that best represents all the good parts of the Sebadoh experience.

Taken from “Harmacy” this period represented the band at the peak of their powers with perhaps the most accessible material of their career. Suddenly out of nowhere this was the band to name drop and no longer bogged down by the seeming necessity to be lo-fi these times saw Sebadoh as a playful and tight unit perfectly syncing and exchanging ideas in a kind of harmony that had not been suggested before. Loose and exciting this was definitely a high water mark for the band from a pop perspective.

It opens with a seemingly calamitous beginning before Lou Barlow drops in which his trademark heartfelt vocals and lyrics of concern. With this you can see why so many indie girls found themselves getting wet over his glasses and locks and why so many indie boys co-opted the actually easy look in an effort to perhaps channel into some of his sloppy seconds at the shows in the process. Yes I am pulling your pisser.

The conceit of this song appears to be agony but thankfully there is an urgency to proceedings that means it is never allowed to slow down and falter, there was never to be any flab on the Sebadoh body while these thoughts were zipping around.

It all ends well, the listener is satisfied and Lou most definitely sounds satisfied as anyone around in misery is not represented. Yes I am drunk.

On the other side of this seven inch is their cover of the Palace/Will Oldham song “Riding” taken from a BBC session back in the days when they recorded indie bands in session. The tone of the track is a corking compliment to the Bonnie Prince that Lou and the band actually manage to wrestle away from a swamp country quagmire. Now if this is a good thing depends really on whether you have a beard and how long it is.

How green was the fucking cover?

Thesaurus moment: soaring.

Sebadoh
Domino

YEAH YEAH YEAHS – MAPS (POLYDOR)

YEAH YEAH YEAHS – MAPS (POLYDOR)

Maps is a tension filled slow burner of a hit that appears to occupy Karen O’s leanings towards lyrical content as opposed to the bolshy aspirations very often displayed elsewhere in their catalogue. Getting all deep and sultry spat over Nick Zinner’s noodling it too soon turns to poodling.

This is far from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs at their best, indeed it is far not the most obvious of songs to cull from Fever To Tell and release as a single. For me this represents the horrid flaw of the band and how they just seem to drift, seemingly boring themselves as much as the listener in the process. I suspect I am most definitely missing something here.

That said there is a distinct pull to this track that can indeed serve to work and enthral on a dark day and certain mindset but I have always required from music that it affect me emotionally and not vice versa.

I sense this is why I never really quite jumped in and dug the Yeah Yeah Yeahs wholeheartedly. In a scene that strived individuality but too often also found itself easily charmed by the flavour of the month sadly the impression I got from this band was that they more represented the latter rather than the former.

In the end though it reaches a grand conclusion even if no satisfaction was arrived at during the way and I didn’t come.

Thesaurus moment: hairstyle.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Polydor

DEVO – WHIP IT (VIRGIN RECORDS)

DEVO – WHIP IT (VIRGIN RECORDS)

Most of the time this is the first DEVO song people are lucky enough to hear. Usually it comes in the form of witnessing one of the greatest pop videos in music history. If only all promo clip directors were as imaginative and inventive.

This song is truly infectious. As the song opens/begins with a gallop everything about it is right. The chords are immediately memorable; the lyrics are a code that are deciphered on first listen and when the tone needs a euphoric lift it is there.

Very few songs will ever contain a more uplifting message and be able to serve as such a genuine rally call to those that need it most. When Mothersbaugh sings “give the past a slip” it is pure poetry and the most definitive term created with view/regards to getting over something or someone and moving on. Indeed I have often used the term when addressing ladies that have broken my heart. This will always be the centre piece of a DEVO set or collection.

Released in 1980 this means that the video will soon be thirty years old and to be honest it still looks revolutionary and even though it doesn’t contain the horrible slickness that most do now it does possess a kind of spark no one else seems to have. At a time when everything is so guard and PC here is one of the most pure gestures and expressions ever from a popular and healthy band. Likewise the exact same sentiments and descriptions can be applied to the song in general.

This is a song that will honestly help get you through the day, help you to face your demons and win (“when a problem comes along, you must whip it”). When David slayed Goliath this was the record he listened to that morning.

Thesaurus moment: win.

DEVO
Virgin Records