THE FALL – YOUR FUTURE OUR CLUTTER (DOMINO)

THE FALL – YOUR FUTURE OUR CLUTTER (DOMINO)

As ever the latest Fall album is the best since their last and it almost feels obligatory to describe it as a return to form now.  For the win everybody.

This is my modern soundtrack for walking through carnage, for the hairy and hectic times that I find myself having to get through Colchester High Street.  Muck on the streets are akin to the music on these sheets.  There is a clutter here both of the physical and of the mind.  More people should listen to Mark E. Smith, he’s certainly been around long enough to have seen everything.

Smart comments aside, this is genuinely a very good album.  I appreciate the ridiculous manner in which it opens with “O.F.Y.C. Showcase” as if it were some punk musical laying out its wears.  As absurd as this notion be, for this record I sense Mark E. Smith is really working hard.  Thanks Domino.

From here the record literally marches forward with “Bury Pts 1 & 3” that stomps in excruciating fashion, initially being delivered in muffled bootleg fashion until the correct version (correct part) comes crashing through along with enormous hook to match.  Everything about this song works.  Each player sounds solid and amazing with an incredible amount of presence.  It’s a recording up there with the best work of Albini (especially the drums).

All but two tracks on the album weigh in at over five minutes in length.  There is real width to the compositions and often Smith takes quite a while to arrive on the scene as some staunch repetition lends much to the groove and drive of the record.

The floating degradation of “Chino” wins the day as stand out track as it hovers over proceedings with menace and motion.  Fortunately it later ends on the comedown of “Weather Report 2” where Smith almost sounds laidback recounting what he sees around him, musing on the past.  Then there’s abduction and the closing whisper “you don’t deserve rock and roll”.

As ever with new albums by The Fall this is their best since the last but this time it really is, several times over.

Thesaurus moment: appurtenant.

The Fall

Domino

FAITH NO MORE – ANGEL DUST (SLASH)

FAITH NO MORE – ANGEL DUST (SLASH)

This was huge fucking record which over the years has only maintained its intensity, even appreciated in stature.  Faith No More were already good when it arrived but now they were great.

Before this album Faith No More had been lumped into the funk rap metal movement most represented by the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  As Mike Patton rapped his way through “Epic” in bright colours it was all too pleasing and amusing, satisfying on a surface level that rendered the band somewhat accessible and disposable.

In many ways Angel Dust represents something of a change of the guard within the band.  The metallic leanings of their previous three albums (seemingly favoured by Jim Martin) now made way for a denser, more adventurous sonic assault which appeared more Patton’s style.  This is just an incredible album where everything falls into place, where every experiment works and each deviation into new territory pays off.  At a time when grunge and industrial rock was storming the pages of Kerrang! the band expertly pounded such elements into their armoury while maintaining a keen balance of horror and humour in addition to holding onto genre departure altogether.

Now here comes the rub.  At the time I was good friends with the biggest Faith No More.  As I staggered through the final year of school I suddenly found myself hanging out with a guy called Glenn who adopted Faith No More as his chosen band and promptly proceeded to shove them down our throats both tainting and over killing the act not only for me but also Metal Dan who was hanging out with us at the time.  I owned the album on cassette but he had it on CD which meant he could safely blast it to a volume and frequency my stereo would not allow.  His copy of the album had “Easy” on it while mine didn’t.  Suddenly my appreciation of the band was inferior in everyway.  So be it.  And with that for years I steered clear of the band and this album long after my friend had exited my life.

I cannot recall the point I picked the band back up.  I can recall the day I finally bought the album on CD and that was on drunken Saturday night in Leicester Square after an AFC Wimbledon game when my friend Stevo and I snapped up various discs from the HMV Trocadero sale.

Now given a second life and listened to with a mature set of ears a new degree of appreciation seeped into my being.  Equally it was around this time while I was still doing Gringo Records that Phill the bass player from Reynolds and the guy recording all our acts at the time always expressed his appreciation and enjoyment of the band.  And Phill was a musically schooled person.  By this stage the band was no longer cool and releasing albums no one was really getting excited about but Angel Dust remained regarded a monster.

This is very much an album about juxtaposition.  On the front cover is a beautiful swan while on the back is a slaughtered cow.  Indeed the title can refer to both magic and the height of aggressive narcotic.

“Do you often sing and whistle just for fun?”

On that theme it opens with the pulsing/thumping “Land Of Sunshine” and positive promise of good times.  You then realise that this is a song about the elderly taking drugs and entertaining escapism (“fortune is smiling upon”).  Then it moves onto a series of questions from an L. Ron Hubbard Scientology audit/personality test.  On that note you would be forgiven for thinking you were subject to being brainwashed.  And as it descends into delirium Patton declares “here's how to order”.  Does the listener realise they’re listening to a religious record?

With that the record moves onto “Caffeine” which was apparently written by Patton during a sleep depravation experiment.  And the manner with which he barks his way through proceedings makes this quite the plausible prospect.  Opening with a sample of animal sounds (barking/howling) taken from the movie A Rose For Emily it is a tightly wound track featuring a fit from its singer.  A breather finally arrives when the band takes it down and Gould’s bass suddenly rumbles as creepy effects play out and Patton stands with accusation “but its so easy for you, there’s always one thing”.  This is Hitchcock and Hermann for the grunge era.  “Relax its just a phase, you’ll grow out of it”.  Who is this psycho we are listening to?

The first single on the album is “Midlife Crisis” with features some fine vocal gymnastics and staunch mood changes as the song refers to what it says on the tin apparently addressing Madonna and the overexposure she commanded back in the early nineties when she was teaching my generation about dirty kinky sex.  It contains the rousing line “I’m a perfectionist, my perfection is sham”.

With “RV” the band does something wonderful: it accidentally introduces its audience to Tom Waits.  From one perspective it is easily the best song of the album swaying in a first person narrative that is awesome representing awful.  Built around Bottum’s piano piece it’s a damaged celebration of slobbery (“my world, my TV, my food”) which eventually builds in hideous remorse in the chorus with the drunken gesture of “I hate you, talking to myself, everybody’s staring at me, I’m only breeding”.  As the track progresses the voices slowly becomes more agitated transferring disgust from its own reflection to the world before it.  Before long it becomes a cry for help finally ending in resignation and resolution with the line “I’ll just tell then what my daddy told me, you ain’t never gonna amount to nothing”.

“Smaller And Smaller” is another sailing moment.  Originally inhabiting the working title of “Arabic” it audibly builds in front of the listeners ears playing out like the Faith No More version of “Kashmir” interrupted by aboriginal chant samples and more Hitchcock screams until it eventually comes into port.

Lightening the mood the eventual fourth single lifted from the album “Everything’s Ruined” is an upbeat bounce perhaps the song here closest to previous work and The Real Thing.  With its easily memorised lines, crashing riff and huge chorus hook it’s a wonderful celebration of disaster.  Less optimistic is “Malpractice” which follows opening with drums that sound like rockets and playing thought sounds like all out warfare and carnage.  Displaying menace at its most massive “Malpractice” is relentless as Patton screams his way through in death metal fashion until a Kronos Quartet sample drops it prior to being promptly pummelled and dismissed by the tank like approach of FNM.  Its an act assuming casualty.

“Write it a hundred times.”

The second side begins with “Kindergarten” which feels almost calming in comparison to the manner in which the first side ended.  It is indeed a song that addresses maturity and childish things.  Then on that note we get “Be Aggressive” a song about oral sex with a cheerleader chorus spelling out the song title in Sesame Street style after Patton rants “I swallow, I swallow”.  I always found this song uncomfortable and slightly too cheesy for its own good.  Somehow a filler track was chosen as a single.

And on the subject of singles “A Small Victory” arrives as the most graceful and lush exhibit the band is ever likely to offer.  As Bottum fleshes out and carpets the sound Martin facilitates a chug which Patton characteristically pounces on proceedings surfing an oriental sounding base singing about the appreciation of occasional winning while accepting that losing bothers when it is part of the agenda (“it shouldn’t bother me, but it does”).

“They sum it all up in a sentence.”

The arrival of “Crack Hitler” then “Jizzlobber” sees the album ending in dense fashion akin to the final hammer blow that wins a war.  The positioning of two such solid songs late in the order reminds of how strong the b-side of Nevermind is.  “Crack Hitler” is a weird waltz detailing the delusion of second rate Scarface referring to himself as “Crack Hitler” while “Jizzlober” is just one hell of a rally with screams of “smiles! bruises!” ahead of all going incoherent and hostile.

With that album ends with perfection and the sumptuous outro of “Midnight Cowboy” which plays out like closing credits.  This was a bold song to attempt, not least by what was previously considered a funk rap metal act.  And with Bottum steering the ship dare I say they better the original.  Seldom has an album ended better.

And on that note along comes “Easy” on the re-release version of the album upsetting the apple cart.  The song stands out like a sore thumb.  As far as what comes before it, the track makes little sense but being a classy rendition of an old favourite it affectively serves as a unit shifting add-on.  There is no debating it being a very good version of a very solid song only the context in which it is positioned/offered here.  Oh well, whatever nevermind.

Angel Dust is as good as modern rock music gets, it is perfect.  It’s a positive experiment into expanse.  This should have been the future for guitar.

Thesaurus moment: brobdingnagian.

Faith No More

Slash

RED MONKEY – DO WHAT YOU FEEL (FEEL WHAT YOU DO) EP (SLAMPT)

RED MONKEY – DO WHAT YOU FEEL (FEEL WHAT YOU DO) EP (SLAMPT)

Red Monkey was a far better band than history will recall/remember/record.  They were a prickly proposition from Newcastle that played jagged post-punk very much in the fashion of Huggy Bear and Gang Of Four with the odd math gesture to match.  In performance they infused an energy that felt foreign to the lo-fi indie movement of the time which really lifted them up as something special in the scene.

Their origins were tied to the Slampt Underground Organisation which meant solid connections with their U.S. counterparts, specifically Troubleman who co-released some titles and opened various doors/opportunities that lesser skilled acts of the time were not exposed to.

This four song seven inch was a release typical of the time, only the quality was head and shoulders above than what else was around.  This was a time when people in guitar bands could still sound angry and ferocious in an earnest, almost political manner and have an audience.

The artwork of the piece is thoroughly DIY, appearing as if run through a photocopier at the cheapest rate, much like the Riot Grrrl scene of a few years earlier and the brief fanzine nation resurgence that occurred in the mid nineties.  The characters of the cover are immediately recognisable as Slampt characters to the trained eye.  This was a gang with a profile and identity.  And to further reiterate the DIY ethos inside the sleeve declares “this 7” was recorded Wednesday 5 February 1997 at 1^st Avenue, Heaton by Dave”.  Can you remember/recall what you were doing that day?

It clatters into life with the inquiry “if you’re scared of questions, why are you here?”  This was a band only for the brave as its jarring execution aimed to burn many.  Then by the second track the stabbing blows and stop start dynamics exhibit gestures The Jesus Lizard would be proud of.

Moving on “Red Prawn” maintains the intensity and elastic assault as wayward time sequences and angular decisions keep the listener’s ears on their toes.  This is as epic as lo-fi could ever dream to get.  Then finally the gesture of “Not Only” full sums up the Red Monkey experience.  This was a band that was so much more than everyone else.

This kind of music should only exist on vinyl.

Thesaurus moment: purposeful.

Red Monkey
Red Monkey live

Slampt

VARIOUS – LONG DIVISION WITH REMAINDERS (FRONT AND FOLLOW)

VARIOUS – LONG DIVISION WITH REMAINDERS (FRONT AND FOLLOW)

Back in 1998 Thurston Moore created a project entitled “Root” whereby he composed a piece of music and then fished it out to a number of friends and musicians for them to do with what they wanted, all in the name of creation and art.  Naturally the results were mixed but the whole process was inventive and unpredictable.

Following up in much the same tradition the ever creative good good people at Front And Follow have put out a whooping four songs into the world for anybody up to the job to molest and manipulate all the name of pushing things forward.  Here in this four disc boxset (this work of physical art) are the fruits of the fourteen versions sprung by so many up and coming artists.  This is free range.

The fourteen artists involved range from tried and tested electronica artists through one man wrecking machines to happy and gifted amateurs with an idea in their head, passion in their heart, hunger in their belly and a PC at their disposal.

The collection opens with the original four pieces from HELEN WATSON that are slow and subtle string arrangements suffering from some kind of Mouse On Mars-esqe bleep fever.  MRS WATSON is one half of the Watson Marriage Experiment, the brains behind the Front And Follow record label that engineered this project.

Having suitably impressed the people at The Wire magazine with his debut album Curious Memories, SONE INSTITUTE chips in with Version 2 and his trademark kaleidoscope interpretation of the truth.  These tracks play home to the collision of classic jazz sounds, of bands so big and grooves so deep they could serve as a foundation for your soul.

Up third is the first contribution from American, Washington D.C. to be exact.  The motions of BLK w/BEAR are heavy and disturbing; slow moving like an electronic version of Earth or Godspeed You Black Emperor.  This is a dark proposition that sonically stretches the four tracks to the point of despair.  A perfect soundtrack to black images.

In contrast to the previous version, when CATS AGAINST THE BOMB offer Version 4 it does so in a very playful manner that springs to mind the lighter side of science fiction.  If the previous effort was the soundtrack to Alien, then this is what’s required for Battle Beyond The Stars.  The cinematic touch is enhanced by the elements of early sonic chirps that feel like Hitchcock.  An amazing picnic.

Version 5 echoes the choices of the first collection as ISNAJ DUI takes a studied and modern composition approach to proceedings employing enhanced classical tools.  This is a hazy and disorientating take on the project that keeps things mild and amusing while concealing another element behind its back.

For the next set of remixes LDWR looks towards Australia as UK born composer BARNABY OLIVER cooks up a drifting and suffocating set of associations that suggest the cruel hand of nature and the danger that comes with.  By the end the version is gyrating causing the listener static strain and an unearthly discomfort.

I have to concede my favourite set of the collection is the four reworkings by KEN PEEL for Version 7.  To the project his brings a “lounge electronica” approach that, of all things, reminds me of the Denison Kimball Trio.  These are tracks upholstered in velvet with swing piano and chilled jazz drum beats which create a smooth texture to go all noir to.  It’s a cause for comfort.

The second half of the experiment opens with the pummelling emissions of Colchester’s own THE ABOMINABLE MR TINKLER.  Version 8 proves one of the most broken contributions to the programme.  It is also one of the most nail biting as a heavy dose of suspense leads up to an inevitably messy conclusion to the tracks,

Version 9 sees LDWR return to Australia for its manipulation via the duo of VOLUME = COLOUR.  A longstanding multimedia collaboration, for their remixes they have employed a series of outsourced individuals to each bring their own touches to the new works.  The results are stubborn and erratic as numerous punishing blows are dealt out in the name of frenzy.

Also from Australia, SUSAN HAWKINS provides the next EP bringing in daggers of destiny via classic orchestration and modern manipulation.  There is something very natural and organic in these interpretations, not least with the sonic howls it exudes.  Then it becomes pleasant, reassuring and cradling.

From Leeds, THE TRUTH ABOUT FRANK deals out a blunt series of groaning machinations that provide a gnarly industrial drone for the eleventh version.  With this ghostly distortion and heinous feedback skim over proceedings before an eventual intervention occurs.

With this SPOOL ENSEMBLE deliver Version 12 from North Carolina.  Extracted from a laboratory workbench the results are scatological as seemingly arcade machine bleeps clash with more generic electronic sounds to muddy the canvass and bend the original tracks to illustrate man made errors.  Bobbins.

The penultimate contribution arrives from TAGCLOUD who also originate from Washington D.C.  This is one of the quietest versions, a subtle reflection on the process that caused people in my presence to ask whether I “was in mourning” for listening to such music.  There is certainly something ethereal about it.

The project comes to a close with the vast recollections of LEYLAND KIRBY.  Very much in keeping with his recent work as The Caretaker and in his own name, his versions of distant journeys with delicate piano pacing and a general air of menace and beauty to that found in Badalamenti’s work on Twin Peaks.  There’s no hurry here, just a lot of sensuality.

And with that fifty six solid tracks pass through my consciousness leaving their brain on my mark.  It is incredible to think of the number of people that were involved in this project and how so many made something out of nothing.  This is the future model for independent music.

Thesaurus moment: legacy.

Long Division With Remainders

Front And Follow

MICAH P HINSON – TAKE OFF THAT DRESS FOR ME (FULL TIME HOBBY)

MICAH P HINSON – TAKE OFF THAT DRESS FOR ME (FULL TIME HOBBY)

This is something of an uncomfortable throwback. As I listen to the seven inch with the sun gloriously shining through my open window I find myself very tempted to close said window for fear of my neighbours witnessing me listening to such a song.

This is not healthy music. The singer songwriter genre is a true minefield, an area where the good is hard to distinguish from the bad because on the whole most of it sounds bad.

Micah P. Hinson is an artist I am supposed to like. In a way he is half David Berman and half Johnny Cash but beyond that there is very little to grasp onto (and nothing has got me so far).

Check out the sentiments: “take off that dress for me.” This guy is begging for sex, he is debasing himself, acting like a pussy in search of satisfying his needs. And the sad truth is that presented with this song the fevered ego from the apple of his eye will probably comply as she finds his advances charming and wayward compared to the usual alpha male route of being rutted that she is akin to. Am I wrong about this?

By now I am so fucking bored of the singer songwriter format, of the way it exposes my generation of being both po-faced and selfish, of egocentric and generally hinting of being chock full of control freaks. This is a marketplace that is drowning, filled to the brim of so many variations of the same thing with only subtle differences and certainly not enough in itself to truly stand out from the flock. Do you remember that scene in Animal House where John Belushi grabs the guitar of the prick crooning on the stairs and smashes the instrument to pieces? That should be performed on so much music right now.

I might be wrong.

Thesaurus moment: sly.

Micah P Hinson

Full Time Hobby

THE LOCUST/ARAB ON RADAR – SPLIT SINGLE (GOLD STANDARD LABORATORIES)

THE LOCUST/ARAB ON RADAR – SPLIT SINGLE (GOLD STANDARD LABORATORIES)

This is a handsome and grotesque release all in one shot.  There is a beauty in gore and noise and here are two bands that cleverly tap into that notion while attempting to make you go deaf and bloody your ears.  Housed on a seven inch shaped like a splat of puke (and with a similar colouring of texture) you just feel you cannot lose with such sickly packaged music.  You can only lose your hearing.

The Locust are just frightening.  I saw them once and never again.  It was one of the most violent pits I have ever fallen into, one that filled me with such aggression and violence that I started kicking out and attempting to hurt people for stepping on my toes.  I was in the wrong.  Meanwhile on stage creatures resembling insects barely moved while producing the most devastating of sounds.  They were flattening all they were coming in contact with.  For this split single their side of the record contains five tracks, the longest of which clocks in at forty three seconds.  Indeed some of their song titles feel longer than the actual tracks themselves (“Wet Nurse Syndrome Hand Me Down Display Case” and “Spitting In The Faces Of Fools As A Source Of Nutrition” being the best examples).  I was wrong to think this was music to dance to.

In contrast the free noise of Arab On Radar is somewhat more harnessed.  There is repetition to frame proceedings, a repetition that resembles a pulse.  The guitars do not sound like guitars, the drums sound cheap and broken and then when the vocals finally drop in suddenly it all sounds very Melt-Banana in a most agreeable manner.  It all feels like music constructed from bloodied lab coats.  The experiment went wrong but the results were great.  The final conclusion: your music is too fat.

Today I find myself playing this record at ear-splitting volume with view to drowning out my neighbour’s shit selection of Madonna hits and other chart mediocrity.  It is a resounding soundclash, one in which I am unlikely to emerge the victor as a scene akin to the annoyance of Driller Killer abounds and sadly the state of affairs descends to complete antisocial mobility.  One day they will die.

Thesaurus moment: overall.

The Locust

Arab On Radar

Gold Standard Laboratories

THE FALL – BURY (DOMINO)

THE FALL – BURY (DOMINO)

At the end of the day the sad truth/reality was that this was the only release I bought on Record Store Day that I actually wanted beforehand. And I only got it out of good fortune when one of the Rough Trade clerks happened across some copies and did a shout out to the people in the queue to see if anybody wanted one. I swear half an hour before this moment I had seen a man the age of Mark E. Smith carrying a pile of about fifteen copies of this record to the counter. That should not have been allowed but in a way it all seems apt

Despite now being on their best record label for years The Fall artwork remains wonderfully incoherent, messy and looking tossed off in seconds. There are just some things that remain reassuringly constant.

“Bury” is another great slab of vinyl. Perversely it reminds me of a lo-fi version of “No One Knows” by Queens Of The Stone Age but it is also so much more. We have a Bury here in East Anglia but it is nothing in comparison to this.

In many ways The Fall is a better act than ever. Without doubt Mark E. Smith runs a tight ship and with its revolving door of musicians these days it’s not so much a band as an outfit with a squad mentality akin to the greatest football clubs. This is the modern way of doing things, deal with it. With this process in mind you can’t help but think in another life Smith might have made for a great football manager. Maybe Manchester has a successor for Fergie after all (pending a reverse Tevez dose of treachery).

Wonderful distortion welcomes this song into the world which is then promptly pursued by a fine stomp and seemingly random musings from Mr Smith. It’s all about Mr Smith. This is the stuff of legend, it still sounds great after all these years and uses terms such as “municipal buildings” which you will be hard pressed to unearth anywhere else in music. In a time when we need this music the most it truly comes to the plate and pays off tenfold.

Thesaurus moment: reliable.

The Fall
Domino

VILLAGERS – BECOMING A JACKAL (DOMINO)

VILLAGERS – BECOMING A JACKAL (DOMINO)

Here is another limited edition release from Record Store Day. By the point of this purchase I was just snapping up any cool looking or sounding release in order to bump up my goodies and prevent the people at the counter giggling at my pathetic collection of rubbish sucker releases. I’m not so sure that this release should have made the cut however.

I have actually see Villagers and it was not an experience I would care to share or repeat. The buzz was good with them being signed to Domino and all but the reality was trite and laboured. For this I blame Bon Ivor and his log cabin bullshit.

Hailing from Ireland unfortunately this means Mr Conor J. O’Brien possesses a singing voice that reminds me of Feargal Sharkey gone through an auto tuner. And we all know what happened to that guy.

It is all very impassioned and aimed (maybe cynically) at an audience experiencing a crisis and mentally drifting off into the distance as life becomes difficult for their kind. Am I being too harsh?

Taking a deep breath and endeavouring to listen to this afresh things don’t really manage to improve as his storytelling style of lyrical narrative portrays a slow version of life that I just cannot relate to, one where a person has too long to dwell on the whimsy of life and little in the way of an arc existence. I bet skinny people have sex to this music.

I still blame The Wicker Man.

Thesaurus moment: grandiose.

Villagers

Domino

THE HILLMISTERS/(((OH DEAR – SPLIT 12 INCH (CULTURE AS A DARE)

THE HILLMISTERS/(((OH DEAR – SPLIT 12 INCH (CULTURE AS A DARE)

The second release from Culture As A Dare hailing out of Southend is an exciting one, a split twelve inch featuring three tracks a piece from two exceptional US indie influenced outfits.

Listening to the music of The Hillmisters is a joy, a genuine and stunning breeze as their sound encapsulates a wonderful time in my musical education.  They operate within a great manner that sees their sound pleasingly hang in the air prior to bombing proceedings in a most satisfying fashion.  At this risk of tarring the band with an overused brush they sound like a triumphant hybrid of Pavement and the Flaming Lips in full flow.  The gargled vocals appear to be spewing out the kind of lyrics that emerge from a bitter crossword capturing the sights and sounds of a moment in time that is about to turn nasty.  All in all it reminds me of going through a tunnel of love.  Then they offer up a song entitled “Jeanie”, almost as if they were mocking me.  The bust is that good.

(((Oh Dear are not quite as an awkward proposition as the spelling of their name might suggest.  With a singer that sounds like Lou Barlow there is a natural leaning towards brimming/beaming like Sebadoh.  As the pace droops and female vocals drop in for backup the band begin to remind me of the finer moments of The Delgados on their second track “Raise The Bar” before things eventually run out in a Crazy Horse manner with “Last Friend” as a lazy blues number gets interrupted by a side order of noodles.  Given time and exposure people could easily fall in love with this.

Thesaurus moment: exhibit.

The Hillmisters

(((Oh Dear

(((Oh Dear live

Culture As A Dare

PLANTMAN/NEON HARVEST – SPLIT SINGLE (CULTURE AS A DARE)

PLANTMAN/NEON HARVEST – SPLIT SINGLE (CULTURE AS A DARE)

I hope I never live to see the day where labels are no longer releasing split seven inches.  This is the king of formats, the kind of release that should exist the beginning of every serious band’s career and appear at the beginning of every indie label’s catalogue as their single digit releases.

Plantman are a hazy lo-fi outfit whose lyrics resemble more throwaway observations than poetic couplets (in a good way).  In execution the band sound very much like Yo La Tengo offering dubious promise of better things while exhibiting some kind of summertime nostalgia.  There is a distinctly bright and sunny tone attached to proceedings and swiftly the band is soon done demonstrating an access to a better state of mind.  In execution “The Tide” acts like a comforting breeze.

Elsewhere is Neon Harvest who remind me of Granddaddy with their drum machine based wailings that pulse in a lo-fi order with a threat and promise of ripping through the orchestration at any moment with their beards.  This song sounds like it is being delivered in an altered state, right at the eye of a very nasty storm.  Destructive and disturbing this is not necessarily cleansing to the soul.  Eventually it rolls out sounding like Steven Malkmus doing a mantra with a drum machine beat that could easily double as the sound of a ticking bomb.  Pretty unnerving ultimately.

I like this seven inch, it gives me pleasure.

Thesaurus moment: chill.

Plantman

Neon Harvest

Culture As A Dare

FAITH NO MORE – I’M EASY/BE AGGRESSIVE (SLASH)

FAITH NO MORE – I’M EASY/BE AGGRESSIVE (SLASH)

This single arrived at a confused point in proceedings.  January 1993 turned out to be one of the more eventful months of my life.  After enjoying a grunge related Christmas when so many gifts were alt rock related stepping into the new year I found myself on work experience from school at Dixon Electronics in Clacton-on-Sea.  This was not rock, this was not what I was destined to do with my life.  This was not what my walkman was soundtracking.

As confusion rained suddenly one of my favourite bands released a weird cover version that saw it shifting units and finding success in the charts.  I knew the song “(I’m) Easy” by Lionel Richie and wasn’t exactly a fan but by fuck did Faith No More change that opinion.  Then again this was never a band shy of doing a cover version and making it their own.  Still, we were loyal to the brand and happy to indulge.  It is interesting to note how the artwork refers to the song as “I’m Easy” and being written by “Lionel Ritchie” offering a distinct air of something being quickly cobbled together.

More than anything else this track always demonstrated the diversity and musical prowess of the act.  It was a track that Mike Patton easily stretched his voice around as Roddy Bottum carried the music with his keyboard while you imagined Jim Martin chomping at the bit to attack the guitar solo towards the end.  With Martin now on his way out of the band you can’t help but wonder whether the Patton address of “ewww” that leads to the solo is directed at Big Jim.

To me it still sounds weird.  It is polished and quite frankly I find it ridiculous how it is stuck on the end of Angel Dust.  Basically it’s a decent but I really need to be in the mood for it and am most likely to switch off the album after “Midnight Cowboy”.

Keeping with the band’s usual direction and seemingly a gesture to keep the faithful happy, the second a-side is the playful “Be Aggressive”, a song about being vocal during sex (thus the declaration in rant “I swallow, I swallow”) while containing a weird chorus sample of kids spelling out the song title in a seedy cheerleader cum cheesy Sesame Street style.  Its all very sport fucking and unsurprisingly aggressive.  Up until that point it is a healthy pummel of a song but that element just kills.  This would not have been my immediate choice for a single.

Moving on the b-sides are live recordings of “A Small Victory” and “We Care A Lot” from Munich on the 9^th November 1992, the first of which is playful and heavy while the second is somewhat subject to a re-model.  It ain’t Patton’s song, he don’t care what it sounds like as he briefly bastardises it with a call to “Jump Around”.

The gentle art of making an audience.

Thesaurus moment: tender.

Faith No More

Slash

LOGIKPARTY – GOOD HOOD (WHITE PLAGUE RECORDS)

LOGIKPARTY – GOOD HOOD (WHITE PLAGUE RECORDS)

I bought this seven inch straight from the hands of Roger Miller from Mission Of Burma after one of their gigs thinking that he was something to do with it but as far as I can see or tell he ain’t anything to do with it at all.  Really?

That aside, Logikparty are something of an impressively dense proposition reminding me of Drive Like Jehu sporting a female front.  The band exhibits wilfully scratchy guitars as more vocals in Slits territory rule the roost in menacing fashion.  With this Lydia Lunch and a heavier version of Teenage Jesus And The Jerks springs to mind.

The band hails from Dublin and describes their genre as concrete, which is a trait that soon becomes apparent with their relentless flow and nasty disposition.  This is pained and damaged music to listen to benefiting from all good things post-punk without falling into the usual traps of outfits attempting ideas so angular.

I think once upon a time I would have found this music empowering and invigorating as it would represent a stark and hostile reasoning to existence.  And that emotion is still fed but as I grow older my capacity to derive anger from such things is slightly dimmed and lessened.  I remain angrier having bought the release thinking that it involved Roger Miller and was something of Mission Of Burma offshoot.  I am idiot and Logikparty have exposed me.

This is a band for you; take it as a gift from me.

Thesaurus moment: excrescence.

Logikparty

White Plague Records

LEYLAND KIRBY – LONG DIVISION WITH REMAINDERS EP VERSION 14 (FRONT AND FOLLOW)

LEYLAND KIRBY – LONG DIVISION WITH REMAINDERS EP VERSION 14 (FRONT AND FOLLOW)

For the final EP Front And Follow have really snagged a musical pioneer in the form of Leyland Kirby.  Currently operating out of Berlin, Stockport native Kirby is famous for his various sonic stunts and assault over the past couple of centuries in his various guises including V/Vm and The Caretaker.  Indeed Kirby in a previous persona of V/Vm was involved in a similar project entitled “Root” that was created by Thurston Moore.

In keeping with his recent modern compositions, Version 14 of track 1 is suitably orchestral and ethereal, exhibiting delicate keys and heartwrenching movements in a highly echoed manner serving to lift the process and plateau proceedings to a better place.  The music screams darkness and solitude, of early hours marked with loneliness and a gasping need/desire for faraway places both physically and mentally.  The imagery is emits of the listener languishes long after the track has gone.

From here the version of track 2 looms heavy as Kirby stretches and extends the work longer than most contributions in the project (second only to the expanse of BLK w/BEAR).  The miniscule distortion suggests a destructive fire down below as waves of hysteria fly past the piece bubbling ahead of execution.

The overhaul of track 3 offers an extensive ringing and worrying call in ghostly fashion.  As the remix clocks in at over ten minutes for some reason it reminds me of the Withnail & I soundtrack and the calming influence it had on the end credits after so much craziness occurred before it.  The music has remained eternally bittersweet and as the cathedral of this piece plays out you can’t help but become melancholy and expectant of glory that never comes.  A heavy price comes with this work.

The final track of the final EP of the project is an emotional work once more relying on a distant sound and the heavy key playing of a lonesome organist.  As the strained notes echo into oblivion the listener is offered a time out to reflect on the action occurs around them and how best it is to respond to them.

Thesaurus moment: colossal.

Leyland Kirby

Leyland Kirby interview

Leyland Kirby live

Long Division With Remainders

Front And Follow

HOLE – NOBODY’S DAUGHTER (MERCURY)

HOLE – NOBODY’S DAUGHTER (MERCURY)

It doesn’t start well.  What happened to her voice?  Probably the same thing that happened to her band.

Things pick up as “Skinny Little Bitch” at least possesses some kind of bite, displaying the degree of anger that once made this lady extraordinary and this band (as was) exception.  It all still sounds a bit too slick though.

When I saw the tracklisting and “Pacific Coast Highway” initially I thought that this was a smart take on the Sonic Youth song of the same name but instead it would appear that it is Courtney making a petty gesture to niggle them, to steal the title of one of their finest moments.  These things just don’t quit.

A strange thing happens as while I listen to the song “Honey” I find myself beginning to sing “On Your Own” by The Verve.  Now this is something I was not expecting from this album.

This record feels like the continuation (and indulgence) of her Fleetwood Mac fantasy.  Gone are prior moments of punk snap as stock gestures and big budget production defang and declaw what once was a very exciting proposition.  Far too often the songs plod, opening with an acoustic introduction that I guess is supposed to explode into incendiary rock guitar which never really packs a punch.  Also there are strings and piano, often a clear indication of an act turning flat.  The absolute worst moment comes with “Letter To God” which is literally that, Courtney reading a letter to her maker all done to the intro of Stairway To Heaven.

As I said a couple of times there are high tempo tracks such as “Skinny Little Bitch” and “Loser Dust” that do remind of Celebrity Skin but these moments are too few and far between.

Lyrically it feels like a stage, pretend breakdown seemingly designed to hide/cover up the real one that is occurring.  Song titles such as “How Dirty Girls Get Clean” and the final declaration of defiance “Never Go Hungry” are indicative of just how try hard it all is.

This is a bad album.  But what did I expect?

Ultimately it is perhaps a good thing that Kurt never saw the day that this thing came to exist.  With this in mind you begin to wonder what Frances Bean thinks of it.  Is she ashamed?  Is she embarrassed?  Or is she just relieved that some income is finally coming in and that they can go back to three square meals a day.  In a way you almost imagine the Frances Bean existence to be that of Saffy from Absolutely Fabulous these days.  Much like this music, it does not paint a pretty picture.

She brought it all on herself.

Thesaurus moment: funnel.

Hole

Mercury

GUNS N’ ROSA PARKS – ANTIFREEZE EP (GIVE PRAISE RECORDS)

GUNS N’ ROSA PARKS – ANTIFREEZE EP (GIVE PRAISE RECORDS)

Sometimes some bands’ names are so tasteless and gauche they are pure perfection. Guns N’ Rosa Parks are such an example of this.

This is hardcore music, the kind perfectly designed to piss your neighbours off on a Saturday night when they are listening to their pop music ever so slightly too loudly for your liking and tastes.

Growing up listening to this music I have always gawped on in despair as hardcore music has slowly become more metallic and moronic as a result but thankfully here is a band just the right side of the aggression, of exciting time changes and a solid rhythm section that doesn’t get rinsed over by needless and unnecessary guitar solos.

Squeezing ten songs onto two sides of seven inch classic will never get old or boring for me and when songs possess titles such as “I Hate Assholes”, “Can’t Relate” and “Hungry Hungry Hippocrites” there is more than likely always going to be something for me to grab onto.

With a quick burst of energy now my neighbours (whoever they may be) appear to have lowered the volume on their own shitty music although the strains of “La Bamba” are decipherable in the background. This is a range war.

Guns N’ Rosa Parks can have my seat at the back of the bus any day of the week.

Thesaurus moment: much.

Guns N’ Rosa Parks
Give Praise Records

LIARS – SISTERWORLD 4 TRACK ALBUM SAMPLER (MUTE)

LIARS – SISTERWORLD 4 TRACK ALBUM SAMPLER (MUTE)

This was a freebie promo I picked up at Record Store Day, a four song taster from the latest joint of Liars.

Liars burst onto the scene a few years ago with a genuine flurry and sense of excitement and adventure attached to them that had long felt missing in acts playing the field.  They arrived as part of that whole New York scene/movement that somehow was equal parts post-punk and disco.  At a time when post-rock had really ground guitar music into the dirt thank God some people remembered how to jerk and be jerks.

With that Liars proceeded to wow with sharp stop start motions/gestures and wayward words.  When they kicked into a groove you could not help but move.

Then things went a bit angular, a bit pear-shaped.  Satisfying their muse they investigated odd avenues and less than pleasing directions.  Much of the goodwill earned went away.  You only listen to a drum in so many ways.

Liars are now back with Sisterworld which is their fifth studio album and as ever there is the hope that it destroys.  Please destroy.

The first track of this sampler is “Scissor” which is a suitably odd and disorientating offering.  It’s a slow building burn, like a cult or gang waking before entering the day with gestures that are batshit crazy.  With patience/patients there is pay off.  Following is the excellent entitled “Scarecrows On A Killer Slant” which maintains the movement with further suggestion of a band with blood on its hands and little on its conscience.

Third up is “Proud Evolution” which is a drawn out almost Krautrock excursion.  This is the kind of material that has traditionally served to derail the Liars efforts.  Here however it holds up, holds out being a song that flourishes before your ears.  And the final track is the appropriately entitled “Goodnight Everything” which rolls at the expected pace with all kinds of peripheral items scoring/scouring the surroundings.  Delivered like Beck at a death scene it feels almost slow motion.  Now whether that is a good thing for any kind of music is another question.  It wails then blows its own death.

It’s going to be all right.

Thesaurus moment: gander.

Liars

Mute

ASH – DARE TO DREAM (ATOMIC HEART RECORDS)

ASH – DARE TO DREAM (ATOMIC HEART RECORDS)

This was the final record I bought at Record Store Day, which was being pushed with the premise of being a Mogwai remix. To be buying such a seven inch for £5.99 featuring two acts that I haven’t had any interest in for years. This purchase truly represents the meltdown felt from the frenzy of Record Store Day.

Over the past year I have been watching Ash valiantly shit out regular seven inch singles attached to letters but never once have I been inspired, motivated or compelled to actually buying one of them. Today things have reached letter N (number 14) so I guess by now it is probably too late to begin my collection if I should desire so.

And I don’t. “Dare To Dream” is something of a mess. A mess with sprinkles. Even now after both acts have had their best days Ash and Mogwai make for awkward and uncomfortable bedfellows and on this release it only appears to etch out the worst elements in each band as Tim Wheeler’s silly vocals emerge very camp against a dragged out and doggy Mogwai aural drawl. In a way it sounds like Joy Division mutating into early New Order as they discover drum machines but from another perspective there is a sense of languid betrayal in how it also sounds something of a sonic abortion.

The release is a one sided affair with an etched b-side that looks relatively aesthetically pleasing. It’s all relative.

Thesaurus moment: hill.

Ash

Atomic Heart Records

FUCKED UP – DAYTROTTER (MATADOR RECORDS)

FUCKED UP – DAYTROTTER (MATADOR RECORDS)

This is a confusing release on many many levels. Firstly I experience “the Peel” in not knowing whether I am playing the seven inch at the correct speed or not. When the vocals appear on what I believe to be “David Comes To Life” I would seem that I am indeed playing the record at the wrong speed. My confusion from what the actual track is stems from the fact that the single has the b-side label on both sides of the record. Was this a mean track done playfully on purpose?

The biggest confusion for me however arises due to the fact that I just don’t get Fucked Up. I sincerely want to love them and indulge but when the record comes up to plate and faces an open goal somehow it just spoons the effort beyond the grave.

Starting again now at the correct speed the store opens up with “Magic Word” which is a mesmerising shuffle that sounds almost skiffle and strangely Ice Cream For Crow all at the same time. I think this is something Charlie Hodge would recommend to Elvis during a drinking session. Wha’ happened? Isn’t this supposed to be the current pinnacle of punk?

Listening to “David Comes To Life” at the correct speed is a far more enjoyable experience than listening to it at the wrong. Go figure, I’m an idiot. The vocals sound discerningly dub as the guitar loops all surrounding parties in unnecessary fashion.

“Crooked Head” is the track most recognisable as Fucked Up with Pink Eyes trademark artistic expression being best represented with a backbeat that feels as if it is working against him rather than with him. As with much of their material it makes for an uncomfortable sync, one that does not do as much justice to the other as should be.

Coming with a useful Fucked Up 7” list insert, this release is culled from a session at Daytrotter Studios in November 2008 and is the Fucked Up contribution to Record Store Day 2010 on many levels.

Thesaurus moment: balk.

Fucked Up

Matador Records

CHARLOTTE GAINSBOURG – SUNSET SOUND SESSION (BECAUSE MUSIC)

CHARLOTTE GAINSBOURG – SUNSET SOUND SESSION (BECAUSE MUSIC)

With Beck still in tow this is a Sunset Sound Session single released to coincide with Record Store Day 2010 of two tracks culled from said session recorded for KCRW radio in Los Angeles.

“Heaven Can Wait” is a plonking ditty that brings to mind rural green California in the late sixties just as the dream is dying and all the idealists are frantically clinging onto their dreams. In other words it is a summery sounding affair with an explicit spring in its step.

Charlotte Gainsbourg possesses a genuinely unique vocal style. By unique I mean that she often sounds male, perhaps this is the result of too much Lemon Incest (although equally this could just be the influence of Hansen). Regardless it means that her act/spiel/shtick is full of quirk and character which serves to enable her to appeal to an uncomfortable audience.

The Beck input as composer and lyricist is tangible as a bendy narrative is churned out, one that possesses the devil may care attitude of a person that no longer need worry about the world.

Roaming onto the other side things sound/become very mechanic and minimal with the frenetic rush of “IRM” that almost rides into Stereolab territory screaming of a person desperately trying to be kooky and different while running the music equivalent of an egg and spoon race.

Its all breezy and disposable stuff, material that could equally be at the beach or in the sewer come a few months time.

Thesaurus moment: spring.

Charlotte Gainsbourg

Because Music

FOALS – SPANISH SAHARA (WARNER MUSIC LTD)

FOALS – SPANISH SAHARA (WARNER MUSIC LTD)

I once saw Foals play live at Latitude Festival and unfortunately it was one of the most feeble sets I have ever witnessed from a band with such clout being pumped into and put behind them.

Its not all hate from me honestly I have genuinely liked a number of their singles but sometimes you just have to shrug and concede “I don’t get it.” I remember when I worked at the studio and how the A&R (A&E) lady was raving about in the context of all this nu-rave gimmick stuff. At this point I genuinely thought there was more to them. Then Sub Pop signed them in the US so surely there must be something there to grab hold of. So with nice looking artwork on Record Store Day as all the limited edition releases I actually want have gone to pushier individuals than myself here is me giving them another chance.

On that note I’ll be fucked if I know what they are doing on this single. For starters it is so fucking quiet and subdued. Why is this? What point are they trying to make? Is this them sounding mature? Sounding as if operating on a knife edge? Am I playing the record at the wrong speed again? (no to that last one).

So well done, once again the kids have been let down by a band claiming so much and delivering so little. How the fuck can Warners be justified in supporting this? Why are they wasting the earth’s resources on such dross?

Eventually the song crawls out of its stupor only to resemble some eighties sports television soundtrack. Can the bar be actually lowered any further?

Thesaurus moment: spoon.

Foals
Warners Music Ltd

SHE & HIM – IN THE SUN (DOMINO)

SHE & HIM – IN THE SUN (DOMINO)

For the longest time on Record Store Day 2010 I found myself wandering around with just this seven inch in my hand. Truly people were swarming all over limited edition stuff in the style of Sex And The City wannabes at a Next sale. For a moment I felt panic, I wanted out of the record shop but there was no escape. So instead I found myself just standing in a corner breathing heavily hoping to bide my time until the real goodies hidden behind the counter were to be unveiled for the patient mannered types such as myself. It didn’t happen. As I saw somebody carry off their vinyl version of the Sonic Youth Starbucks compilation for the eleventh time I knew my She & Him seven inch would not be alone in order to maintain cred as I approached the counter. From here when I finally approached the checkout with my pile of potentially mediocre vinyl, including my £6 She & Him seven inch, my pain was justified as the man smiling behind the till handed me a cloth tote bag that came exclusively with this release. Had my pain in one foul swoop suddenly been justified? I had only been in the store almost two hours by this point. Was it worth it? For £41.42 I got my record store rush.

I just dropped this record. Literally and physically, I haven’t even got around to listening to it and the corner of the spine is now already bent. The value has just gone from mint to just very good. Suddenly it doesn’t feel worth it.

She & Him feel like flavour of the month right now, which is not necessarily a band thing because Zooey Deschanel has a high level of cred right from back when she was a scene stealer in The Good Girl. That said actresses taking up indie rock has something of jaded history (Juliette Lewis and Scarlett Johansson a dubious list begins with you).

In a sad way Deschanel’s efforts remind me a bit of Reese Witherspoon in Walk The Line and as such make them DOA. In John Peel style I begin listening to the seven inch at the wrong speed (listening to it after the Factory limited edition ten inch I also got at Record Store Day). Dare I even suggest that it may sound better at such a speed (I’m down with the kids and their chopped and screwed).

I was given to believe that this would be a full on country assault but instead it is a far more sprightly affair. Her voice reminds me a lot of Tanya Donnelly, Shannon Wright and Sarah Shannon from Velocity Girl (all fantastic vocalists) but strangely the most striking aspect that grabs me is the piano line courtesy of M Ward that reminds me of the “Self Preservation Society” theme song from The Italian Job and thus it all comes full circle and the selection never escapes Hollywood.

Thesaurus moment: wrap.

She & Him
Domino