Built To Spill
Keep It Like A Secret
City Slang
This record is way too good to 'keep it like a secret'. It's difficult to be objective about this album because the way that Built To Spill have created an truly orchestral pop record that speaks to the soul from just a simple three-piece indie-rock set up is awesome. There is a place for every guitar phrase, and every guitar phrase in its place and the album fires on all cylinders, meaning that you get a full, direct sense of the wandering, exploratory melodic complexities which you'd expect to hear only while listening very carefully on headphones to a cleverly constructed rock'n'roll album.
The album marks the first time that singer-songwriter-guitarist Doug Martsch has decided on a permanent full-time band line-up and accordingly, 'Keep It Like A Secret' is a collective effort, written and performed together as a band. The album is a showcase for the strength of the band's dynamic as well as Martsch's mature songwriting skills - its cohesive fluidity reveals the band's musicianship and unity of purpose and vision - the songs have a huge, enveloping atmosphere because of the sweeping flowand surge of the song's musical passages.
The opener, 'The Plan' enigmatically rhymes "ten thousand year increments" and "common sense". 'Center Of The Universe' unfolds in meandering chords and self-absorbed lyrics, addressed too directly to be pretentious - "I heard what I said to you and it was so out of synch with the way I wanted myself to seem. I don't like this air but that doesn't mean I'll stop breathing it". Built To Spill restrain themselves from out and out abandon until the last song, "Broken Chairs" which is reminiscent of a frenzied Neil Young and Crazy Horse, a hall of 'mirrors of apprehension'. Go and buy this album, its appeal will not fade with time.
Bonnie Prince Billy
I See a Darkness
Domino
Bonnie Prince Billy is the latest in a series of aliases for the uncompromising genius of Will Oldham and ‘I See a Darkness ’ is the latest album to feature Will‘s cracked voice and his usual collection of musicians and helpers. It features tracks with names such as ‘Another Day Full of Dread ’, ‘Death to Everyone’ and ‘Today I Was an Evil One’. You might get the impression that it is a bleak, desolate album. You might get the impression that it’s skeletal backing and funereal pace made for a difficult, depressing listen. You might think that. But you’d be wrong.
“Life is long and it’s tremendous and we’re glad that you’re here with us and since we know the end will come, it makes the living fun.Ó Sings Billy on ‘Death To Everyone’. On ‘Another Day Full Of Dread’ he remarks that “the fear and dread excite me” and he might well see a darkness but he’s got a woman who will show him the light. You see our Billy isn’t that stupid. He knows if you’re going to make an album with titles as over the top as that they’ve got to have a little twist inside of them. He’s quite aware that the juxtaposition of his wailing southern twang and the country-like backing against lyrics like the one above is far more powerful than any self pitying lament.
That’s not to say he’s moved away from his usual dark, gothic style. His lyrics still evoke images of old style fights of good against evil and he is definitely the closest anyone has come to matching Nick Cave’s wordy lyricism. Yet there is something positive lying under the superficial sheen of doom and gloom and it is an amazingly rewarding find. As Billy himself writes; “Bonnie Billy is a very approachable character, much more charming than ever before.” He’s right and he has produced an album that is charming and intelligent. It finishes with the lines, “Oh and it don’t rain anymore. I go outdoors where it’s fun to be and I know you love me. I know you do.” And you can’t help but smile as the album comes to an enjoyable end.
Various Artists
******** Records, Tokyo: the remixes
Bungalow
To be honest, I am quite biased againts this CD, as my rabbit pissed all over my leg during the beginning sequence of track two by Pizzicato Five (having only been brought up on Ben Folds Five, the rendering of this Ÿber Japanese band were too much for his tiny mind to comprehend). Three of the tracks are remixes of the theme music to the famous manga cartoon ‘Lupin the Third’. These tracks are endearingly funky, with ace trumpet sections, and are backed by a salsa percussion thingy that also sounds cool. The manga remixes may not make you ‘groove on down’ but they are good in a kooky kinda way.
However, I have already disliked the Pizzicato Five way before I discovered my rabbit’s annoying habit of pissing every time he hears it. The Pizzicato Five are sort of jungle, slightly upbeat and contain a lot of talking, that sounds like monkeys chattering along behind the speaker. The singing is almost totally in Japanese which makes the album hard to adjust to, as the deep booming voice (see Rammstein) speaking in very fast Japanese that crops up throughout the album, is pretty damn unnerving Ð especially late at night. Hmm.
Much of this ‘totally subjective collection of quality music’ sounds like the title music to Eurotrash, and amusing as that is, an hour of the stuff does make your mind go pink ‘n’ fluffy Ð or, alternatively, blank for fairly long periods. It makes interesting background music butÉ er, that’s about it. The lyrics, great as they possibly are, will pass everyone who can’t speak Japanese by, and the totally revolutionary type of house music is way too crap to appeal to anyone but the most ardent clubbers. The album is OKish, but only if you put it on and then talk loudly over most of the tracks.
U2
The Best Of 1980-1990
Island
For those who have never bought any of U2's records but enjoyed hearing the singles, a greatest hits package like this should be an ideal purchase. But the problem is that many of these songs just sound too damn old. It really does not need to be mentioned that this is an Eighties greatest hits collection; every song here serves as a reminder of what U2 sounded like back then - from the Edge's signature reverbed guitar sound, to Bono's soaring harmonies and Larry Mullen's thumping drums. Apart from 'The Sweetest Thing' (which is oddly included here) all the songs have at least a decade of recurrent airplay behind them and they are all beginning to sound a little dated. I for one could lead a happy and fulfilled existence if I didn't hear 'Where The Streets Have No Name' again. 'All I Want Is You' eventually becomes painful to listen to but some songs have survived the test of time, most notably the BB King collaboration 'When Love Comes To Town' and the slightly punky 'I Will Follow'.
As for the B-sides, well they're just B-sides really: a patchy cover of 'Unchained Melody', a thoroughly alarming stab at 'Everlasting Love'. The original version of 'Sweetest Thing' is cringeworthy in comparison to its successor whilst 'Bass Trap' can be nicely described as "early mood music" or honestly described as "shite".
After listening to this, it dawned on me personally that I'm more of a nineties U2 fan - records like 'One', 'Mysterious Ways' and even 'Discotheque' seem more alluring after this. In any case, too much stadium rock can't be good for you can it? So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to listen to 'Automatic For The People'.
Snowpony
The Slow-Motion World of Snowpony
Radioactive Records
Experimental rock music, don’t you just love it? You simply have to adore any musical form that will allow bands to express themselves via such obscure vehicles as dodgy French lyrics and un-listenable guitar overloads and you couldn't realistically expect anything else from a band like Snowpony. You see, the female duo who form the main part of Snowpony, Katherine Gifford and Debbie Googe, are veterans of Stereolab and My Bloody Valentine respectively - the very bands responsible for the aforementioned French lyrics and noise. As such, what you expect is a slightly more rocky Stereolab, and to an extent this is what you get. However much it might annoy the band members to be constantly compared to their previous projects, the comparisons are inevitable. In places this album does sound a lot like the 'lab - albeit with less of the French.
To take this comparison as a true description, however, would be to do a huge injustice to this album. Snowpony are a band with hidden depths; this album doesn't leap out and grab you, but rewards repeated listening, the dark lyrics working with Kevin Bass' innovative drum lines to create a mood which can only be described as sombre. Comparisons simply cannot do justice to the understated beauty of songs like 'St. Lucy's Gate', which leave an impression on your memory despite the apparent lack of structure. The whole album is like the soundtrack to some surreal, unwritten film-noir, much like Portishead, only less trendy. To make the whole thing even better the album is infused with a subtle sense of humour, given away by song titles such as '3 Can Keep a Secret (If 2 are Dead)', and conspiring to make it dark without the po-faced intensity of most such ventures. Anyone who listens to music in the small hours needs this album.
Sleater-Kinney
The Hot Rock
Matador
After a spate of early album re-releases and 1997’s essential 'Dig Me Out', everybody’s favourite all -female trio from Washington return! And, yes, they are definitely The Hot Rock. Cracking! More melodic and complex than before, Sleater-Kinney are still about as mellow as barb-wire blankets, but boy - yes, you boy! - do they make you want to go out and, well, gatecrash a hardcore party and pull all their damn baggy pants down. And eat all the cake.
“Do you wanna go underground? We’re going underground” they ask on new single ‘Burn Don’t Freeze’ and you can’t help but follow, bouncing like a loon, handclaps, the whole she-bang.... Moments of guitar weirdness abound, like in ‘Banned From the End of the World’ where we have what sounds like a couple of chipmunks dancing on the fretboard but hey, it works in an odd kind of way. Like their talk-over Kim-Gordon-circa-‘Goo’ tribute on ‘Get Up’ but this time instead of “Hey Mom...the band doesn’t sound half bad..” we have: “Do you think I’m an animal? Am I not? I’m captive only for a short while...” Indeed, Sleater-Kinney seem keen to ravage one and all: "you want me in your bed / you better do it on the sly" in ‘One Song For You’ and "Jump in, Jump out / Get in, Get out" - wham bam, thank you,er, ma’am.
In their milder moments, Sleater-Kinney could almost be as nice as say, Papas Fritas, and there does even appear to be violin on one track (‘The Size of Love’) but it could be a guitar in disguise...you just don’t know! But SK are really at their best when they really cut loose - see ‘Living in Exile’, ‘Start Together’, ‘God is a Number’. To be honest, I love this band. Wanna see why?!
Why is it that, while Japan gives us United Future Organisation, Cornelius and DJ Krush, the only thing they want in return is stuff like Shampoo? You’d think someone would tell them that we in the West are probably getting a better deal. Well, popkids, lick your lips in anticipation as this is equal to if not better than any anything you care to mention from his impressive back catalogue. He might make it look easy, but behind the apparently laid-back approach is a mind of piercing intelligence and a deft pair of turntable-friendly hands. Rather than suffocate the listener with an endless barrage of sound and fury, the fourteen instrumental tracks that make up ‘Kakusei’ are given space to breathe. Out of the maelstrom of modern life of which Japan, and especially Tokyo, is a potent symbol comes an album of poise and depth.
But every Yin needs its Yang: the dark side, enough to add some welcome menace to the proceedings, is held in balance by the forces of good. A latter-day Samurai stripping away the inessential, Krush has turned Kakusei into a lean and focused album, a formidable tool in the right hands. While ‘Parallel Distortion’ is hip-hop Drunken Master style and ‘Krushed Wall’ is sharp enough to draw blood, the whole is an antidote to the currently in-favour ‘more-is-more’ ethos, the poverty of ideas and frenzied accumulation of bloated, meaningless beats, samples and scratches that today characterises what used to be the cutting edge of dance music. Do yourself a favour: become a disciple of the blade.
Hardfloor
All Targets Down
Harthouse
Green Velvet
Constant Chaos
Music Man Records
“The big dons are back. In the blue corner, representing Germany of Europe, we have Hardfloor. Weighing in at 303 teutonic pounds there is some formidable force behind this German duo. In the green corner, we have Green Velvet (A.K.A. Cajmere). Hailing from Chicago in the US of A he is wearing a lovely bodiless body in fetching silver and green. Let’s talk tactics. It’s over to you Mike”
“ Cheers Spank. Hardfloor are still the undisputed kings of the 303. The movement most commonly used against their opponents is to hit them with a 303, hit them with another 303 and just when their competition think they can throb no harder in comes another 303 to finish them off”
“Is that not a tad formulaic, Mike?”
“Well it’s always worked before and the crowds love it. Green Velvet on the other hand is a difficult one. He sometimes confuses his opponent by fooling them into a false sense of security under his Cajmere alter-ego. At first he invites them into his warm, emphatic house before getting all paranoid and psycho on them. He’s even been known to leave strange messages on their ‘Answering Machine’.”
“I’m going to have to stop you there Mike, it seems like battle has commenced. Straight off Hardfloor is building up, hitting Green Velvet hard. They really are ‘Slammin’ Shit’ out of him. The Bontempi rhythms of ‘Coitus’ are no match for this. Wait a minute. It seems Hardfloor are distracted. What are those groaning noises?”
“I don’t believe it Spank. It seems a couple are having sex in the background and Hardfloor don’t know where to look. Hardfloor have calmed down to 110BPM with the hip-hop of ‘Extra Ball’. Check that - it’s a change of tactic. Hardfloor are building themselves up again. Yes, they’re going for the Skill Shot”
“Oooh, that was a good hit. Green Velvet’s didn’t respond well to that. He’s whispering some of his ‘Thoughts’ about in Hardfloor’s ear. They don’t seem to like it. Velvet’s really shouting at them now, questioning the very society around them. Hardfloor are losing their grip on reality. They are going to need a whole battalion to help win this one back”
“Spank, it looks as though a battalion is exactly what they’ve got. A number of black, silver haired gentleman are parachuting down from the sky. It’s the American Phuture 303 squadron. It seems as though they are collaborating with Hardfloor. Green Velvet has surrendered. The fight is over. With this win, the crowd are going wild. Hardfloor are obviously the people’s choice. Only a few dedicated fans will argue Green Velvet’s case though this one, and most of them are too paranoid to fully trust his fighting tactics anyway.”
‘Knock Knock’ is the latest collection of prime lo-fi from Smog’s Bill Callahan. “I wrote five of the songs in one day, on an eight hour drive from South Carolina to Maryland”, Bill tells us, and it shows: ‘Knock Knock’ is an eclectic mixture of dark meandering through the American night, and chugga-chugga, steering-wheel-biffing guitar riffs. When Callahan chooses to be uplifting, he does so in a style similar to Suicide passing through a Beatles phase. ‘Held’ is all pop riff, overlaid with off-beat melodic ramblings and discordant feedback. ‘No Dancing’ contrasts the wry accompaniment of the Chicago Children’s Choir with Smog’s familiarly industrious guitars. ‘Hit The Ground Running’ is a rushing melody that does exactly what it says on the packet. “I was raised on cake...”, says Bill. By Lou Reed at children’s tea parties, no doubt. But where laughing Bill is at his finest is when he emulates that drive. Like the long, straight American highway, these songs are insular variations upon a theme. Not one for the verse-chorus-verse-chorus school of songwriting, Callahan chooses his riff and plays it and plays it and plays it, slowly adding harmony and texture, be it strings, piano, or his own intimate lyrical observations. ‘I Could Drive Forever’ is one of the most hauntingly evocative songs I’ve ever heard... “with every mile a piece of me peels off and whips down the road”...And that’s exactly what this set of songs is: intimate pieces of heartbreak and wonder left behind in the Smog as Bill Callahan whips down the road.
RZA
...as Bobby Digital In Stereo
Gee Street/V2
Any RZA project comes with expectations. His solo album was delayed for the umpteenth time, in a manner reminiscent of 'Forever,' maybe, for the making of this split personality Blaxploitation album. Question marks will inevitably surround a record to a film that RZA had to release straight to video because no major studio would take him on, and some of the music is highly questionable. The opener, ‘B.O.B.B.Y.’, sadly nothing to do with Tammy Wynette's ‘D.I.V.O.R.C.E.’, recalls the worst excesses of 'Forever's orchestra-kitsch with a truly shapeless mash of 'classy’ strings and a frankly crap use of spelling-out words, a trick many many rappers have carried out with aplomb in the past. Things get rapidly better with 'Unspoken Word,' though, which demonstrates why the RZA has been the production force no-one could ignore for the past six years. However, it also sets up a pattern of monotonous rapping which continues for much of the album. RZA's style has a lot of merits in an ensemble group, but I'm still not sure it's varied or interesting enough to carry an album.
Then there are the embarrassing interludes where Bobby Digital's women, picked out on the basis of a language-rota, eulogise him in a range of foreign tongues. Lisa I'Anson proves the most interesting, strangely, chanting in an African tongue: the effect is only spoiled by the shitty faux-ethnic drumming in the background. The Frenchwoman ruins it, sounding like a tired transvestite prostitute. And the various 'Bobby-Digital-as-lover-boy' tracks like 'Love Jones' and 'My Lovin' Is Digi' sit uncomfortably with the finale 'Domestic Violence,' which makes 'Forever's 'Dog Shit' sound like a ballad.
The production quality is high, as you would expect, apart from the aforementioned opening track and also a couple of moments throughout where RZA seems to degenerate into a small child who has just discovered that if you hit a piano hard it makes a noise. Unfortunately, my overall impression remains that the RZA's marketing master-plan has descended into money-grabbing vulgarity. This album isn't really big enough or clever enough to stand on its own, and it may represent one more frightening step towards G-Funk predictability for the Wu-Tang.
So everyone and their dog has 'Smash', but mention 'Ignition' or (in my opinion) the superior 'Ixnay On The Hombre', all you get is blank stares. Well, now there's ‘Americana’, and this is what you're missing. After the now-familiar introductory track, 'Americana' launches into the furiously paced 'Have You Ever'. In fact, it's so frantic, it has to slow down half way through to give you a breather. The first single from the album is 'Pretty Fly (For A White Guy)'. This a 'Come Out And Play'-ish, 'LAPD'-ish, hip hop thing, and excellently catchy. In constant rotation on MTV and even played on Radio 1, it may even make the top 40. (??!!!) 'The Kids Aren't Alright' will feature on the soundtrack of a forthcoming film called 'The Faculty' and is the third Offspring song to make a soundtrack album; the others being D.U.I. ('I Know What You Did Last Summer') and the cover of 'Smash It Up' ('Batman Forever'). After a version of Morris Albert's Feelings that will make your parents cringe and the obligatory punk of 'The End Of The Line' and 'No Brakes' comes the first big surprise of 'Americana'. 'Why Don't You Get a Job?' verges on acoustic and is a replacement for the usual ska offering. This is a definite sing-along tune. Following the title track comes the second big surprise in the form of the eight minute opus of 'Pay The Man'. Beginning in a subdued manor and ending in crescendo of guitars, this is an excellent song and is evidence of new innovation by the boys from Orange County. With the whole thing being wrapped up perfectly by the hidden 'Pretty Fly (Reprise)', which is there more for comic value than anything else, this is a wonderful poke at modern America.
The Psychonauts
Time Machine
Mo’Wax
Rather than being Dr. Who enemies gone mental, The Psychonauts are, in fact, the unofficial Mo’Wax house DJs, and this is their first ever release. It is a retrospective mix album of Mo’Wax tunes both old and new; hence the ‘Time Machine’ title. No doubt, by now, your chain of thought has been Mo’Wax - James Lavelle - DJ Shadow - Unkle, and the label heavyweights do feature repeatedly in the mix. Behind that sterling front line come the creative midfield talents of the slightly-lesser-known types like DJ Krush, Dr. Octagon, Attica Blues and Luke Vibert. Finally, we have the bizarre last line of defence that includes The Prunes, Sam Sever, Marden Hill and Olde Scottish (I kid you not); and there are titles to match: ‘Funky Granules’, ‘Ravers Suck Our Sound’, ‘Slipper Suite’ et al.
The music is, on the whole, what you would expect - funked up hip-hop beats, sampling wizardry and serious scratching. It is a little tricky to pick out any specific tracks to praise, because the 35 minute mix includes 51 tracks (!), though some, like DJ Shadow’s weirdly wonderful ‘Organ Donor’, recur more than once. This is the main problem with the album: in mixing so many tunes in such a short space of time, The Psychonauts only allow us snippets and snatches of each. As a result, just as the vast psycho-funk of ‘Ape Shall Never Kill Ape’ by UNKLE kicks in, we are swept on to Andrea Parker and La Funk Mob, and the DJ Shadow excerpts only served to make me return to ‘Endtroducing...’ and hear the tracks in full. That said, there are opportunites to discover new names to watch out for (particularly Liquid Liquid and Miss Parker) and, ultimately, if you like the Mo’Wax style, you’ll like this too.
Don't even bother reading this, just go and buy it. See, Stefan Betke is a man who knows what sound should be. He ought to - you don't land a job at the cutting rooms of Basic Channel for nothing. ‘Pole 2’ is an utterly revolutionary journey through the dub-infused hinterlands of German electronica, and a real manifesto for music which is far greater even than the sum of its amazing parts. Clicks and pops spatter rotating sub-bass whumps and stabs as the dub narcotic wheels around the six jawdropping tracks on offer. It is no surprise that Augustus Pablo and King Tubby have both continually been referred to in reviews of Betke's work, as anyone with a decent stack of Blood & Fire reissues will instantly feel at home in Pole's crackling, hissing take on the sound of Studio One.
As with the music of fellow German innovators Porter Ricks, Betke takes every worthwhile sound from any music, and somehow condenses the whole lot into tiny, echoing dots which loop across an enthralling suggestion of melody, creating a wholly unique sound. Few artists come this close to the creation of such a radically new sound; the likes of Autechre, Richard D. James and Richie Hawtin are Betke's obvious companions. It takes an incredible talent to create something of similar stature. ‘Fahren’ will have Bill Laswell crying with frustration, whilst Alpha could not achieve the lush melancholia of ‘Hafen’, regardless of their own considerable skill. Even labels such as Clear may as well call it quits. Appropriately, words cannot really describe the sheer beauty and musical intent of this record. You need this album. It is one of the most important of the year. It is still February.
Bearing the name of an obscure Wax free tape of various curios and collectables from those denizens of the land of weirdness at Warp records, this can't go far wrong. Although proof of an inevitably lamentable misunderstanding on my part, this assessment is not too far from the truth. To say its a pretty mixed bag would be to condemn the listener to a good, hard raping by the underestimation monkey. Sadly there is, in this cheap attempt at music journalism, no space for the infuriating use of the 'I-can't-think-of-genre-that-suitably-describes-this-ecelectic-approach-to-music-making-so-I'll-just-stick-loads-of-hip-terms-together-with-these-very-handy-little-hyphens' tactic. So I won't.
What you get is an admirable musical pluralism which lurches uncomfortably between the effortlessly forgettable to the woefully misjudged. That said, you can't help laughing at Germans trying to emulate the dulcet Brissol tones of Mr Tricky or Mr 3D. Try it. It's piss funny. Plexiq surround themselves with the faintly nauseating whiff of trying a little too hard to be ecumenical. Enthusiastic and virtuoso plunderings of styles lead to an ultimately unsatisfying hotchpotch. The main culprits are 'Memories' and 'Do You Get It?' which somehow manage to squash Faith No More's more melodic moments into big-beat and, scarily, acid jazz before trying somewhat unsuccessfully to become soulful. At one point it seems that the Plexiqs (as they apparently like to be known) plumb new depths of desperation as they expound the virtues of the rhythms of the bossanova drum beat from a kiddie's keyboard bought for a tenner from Argos. Yet therein lies the unfulfilled potential of ‘Blech’. Exploitation of quirky samples and psychedelic effects lends this album a spaced-out playfulness scored like nails down a blackboard with distorted analogue shudderings. Like playing slow motion space invaders with a jack-hammer migraine. In a good way, you understand.
The Black Crowes
By Your Side
Columbia Records
The most rock 'n' roll band in the world ever are back.
Oh good. Maybe its just me and my pessimistic indie soul but this is about as enjoyable as a birthday kiss from your gran. Maybe a little harsh, because The Black Crowes are good at what they do, unfortunately what they do is stadium rock that your dad thinks is cutting edge. They fill their eleven tracks with catchy guitar riffs and lyrics about falling in love. No backwards guitar or shouty stuff. I don't think I can cope. Technically proficient it may be. It'll probably sell by the bucketload. In the meantime my snobbish indie heart will cry gently into its beer.
Pearl Jam
Live On Two Legs
Epic
I saw Pearl Jam once at an obscure little dive called Wembley Arena. And they were great! Trying to capture a really good live band on piddly plastic is like having all the great meals you’ve ever had condensed in to one measly bar. It’s just not the same. Er, like it ever could be. That aside, this rather meaty 71 minute collection recorded during their last American tour sees PJ do what they do best. Er, you know, play songs and stuff.
“Everything has changed/Absolutely nothing’s changed” - ‘Corduroy’. Kind of appropriate for PJ really as they storm their way through their own pretty substantial A to Zee. We have ‘Even Flow’ to ‘Go’, ‘Better Man’ to ‘Hail, Hail’ and a fair amount of stuff from their last album, Yield. Which, incidentally, must have sold the least copies EVER for a band so ‘huge’ as PJ. Not that they care - not like they should either. When did quantity ever provide an indictor of quality eh?
Oh that voice! I’ve got to say it’s damn sexy. And, cos it’s a live album you get to hear him talk between songs and everything. Not that Eddie says much, mind: “That’s an old song, this is a new song” for example.
The variety of songs on this album do go some way to testifying to the majesty of this most singular of bands but if you have all the albums and/or have seen them live, then a live album is maybe a little unnecessary. Not a lot unnecessary, just a bit.
The Mutton Birds
Rain, Steam & Speed
Ssssh! Records
In a recent interview, songwriter and vocalist Don McGlasham said of his band the Mutton Birds, that they were "an old fashioned band, representing a kind of music that is beyond fashion". As a man previously unacquainted with the Mutton Birds, and not a little tired with the fickle and faddish 'music as fashion accessory' reporting of such bastions of pop journalism as NME and Melody Maker I was encouraged by this declaration, but also aware that it could just as easily be another way of saying earnest, monotone and precious.
Thankfully my first encounter with the New Zealand four-piece has been a delight. 'Rain, Steam & Speed' indeed presents a band without a care for musical trends; they are far too busy penning songs of beguiling simplicity and wonderful emotional punch. Their sound is by turns reminiscent of Crowded House, Wilco and Hothouse Flowers, while on some tracks the guitar work could have come straight from Neil Young's ‘Harvest’.
The album is consistently good, all finished with delicate, uncluttered production that allows all the instrumentation room to move, but there are clear standout tracks. 'Winning Numbers' is a great piece of songwriting with a chorus to die for, and perhaps one of the most curious opening lines; (“On a Belgium Airways plane there comes an ad for credit cards”). 'Small Mercies' and 'Pulled Along By Love' are similarly well executed. For sheer beauty and sublime simplicity however, 'Jackie's Song' stands head and shoulders above its stablemates. Supported by a single acoustic guitar, McGlashon's lyrics and vocal performance are at their most haunting here. Sadly it is an album that is unlikely to find a huge audience, but rest assured, it shall be treasured by those who do hear it.
Mucho Macho
The Limehouse Link
Wiija Records
My mum says that music these days is all just beeps and clicks. She’s right, but what she doesn’t realise is that to a real connoisseur these same staccato rhythms (“They all sound the same!” you may hear her cry) can be a whole new, wonderful world.
This release from Romford’s own Mucho Macho combines the bounciest beeps and the choicest clicks to create a superb party breakbeat buffet selection. Mucho Macho stole their name from the Beastie Boys’ ‘Sabotage’ video, and instead of facing legal charges, they were rewarded with the opportunity to DJ at the Beastie’s Grand Royal opening night. The duo also remixed (Wiiija labelmates) Cornershop’s ‘Brimful of Asha’ well before Norman Cook got his big beat teeth into it. And of course this is where the obvious comparisons lie - although the duo list George Clinton, John Barry and Mantronix as influences, so does Mr Slim. Therefore to much of today’s audience, Fatboy Slim and Mucho Macho occupy much the same shelf space.
The main difference is that while Norman Cook lumps his influences together to create colossal, extravagant beasts, Mucho Macho prefer to be less self-indulgent by filtering their record collection into more understated tunes. Even when things look to be getting a bit comedy-orientated (as in the catchy ‘Hey Charlie’), the pair will turn things around to constantly surprise you. When you begin to tire of the insane children chanting in ‘S.K.O.O.B.Y.’, it switches abruptly into that rare beast, the latin-techno funk.
Probably the classiest party tune on the album is ‘Rap Is Really Changing’, which worked a treat at New Year at my house, the lunatic drumming echoing in everyone’s ears throughout their hangovers the next day.
Less predictable still are the final three tracks on the album, showing the dark side of the duo. Suddenly it’s all sampled string parts and a full vocal track on ‘Backstreet Love’ (sounding like Kate Bush jamming with the Chemical Brothers). And as for the final, epic track ‘Declaration of War’, you have to hear those beeps and clicks to believe them. Even my mum might be impressed....
Kieran Hebden, the mastermind behind Four Tet, has already established his post-rock credentials as a member of Fridge. Still only twenty-one, he has accumulated the kind of muso-techno savvy which would make Mike Oldfield turn green. ‘Dialogue’, his debut effort, is a stunningly original venture which mixes jazz with hip-hop rhythms and ambient soundscapery. Even this description is insufficient to express the diversity of styles thrown into this record; it remains eclectic whilst avoiding high-brow obscurity. ‘Dialogue’ barely puts a foot wrong, shifting effortlessly between styles: from the innocence of the opener ‘The Space of Two Weeks’, to the baroque epic of ‘Chiron’, to the scattershot saxophone sampling of ‘3.3 Degrees from the Pole’. The relaxed mood of ‘Misnomer’, suffused with dark bass, proves to be the high point of the album and makes you realise that Hebden not just a skilled nob-twiddler but also an inspired musician. ‘The Butterfly Effect’ proves that he can do funk as well. It is the effortlessly light touch that really impresses (despite the fact that ‘Dialogue’ took a year to produce). Unfortunately, the last three ‘bonus’ tracks are something of a let-down: originally released as B-sides, they are not quite in the same class as the rest. Only ‘Fume’, the penultimate number, avoids clichŽ. Though perhaps not quite a masterpiece, this is one of the most inventive debuts of the decade, somewhat reminiscent of Tricky’s ‘Maxinquaye’ and no less arresting. Where Dialogue excels is in its reclaiming of the avant garde ethos of jazz artists such as Ornette Coleman and Charles Mingus, simultaneously couching that anarchy in breakbeat; the end result proves, if nothing else, that there is still unexplored territory in contemporary music.
Modest Mouse
The Lonesome Crowded West
Matador
The title of this second album from Modest Mouse gives an important clue to the band’s vision. They write about the unique strangeness of the north west corner of America, an area of urban, densely populated cities and vast, desolate landscapes as evinced by the photos on the inlay. Accotdingly, their lyrics are informed by both the Western cinematic images of the US (characters such as ‘Cowboy Dan’, a “major player in the cowboy scene”, and “the old sheriff” in ‘Buffalo Montana’) and the claustrophobic urban environment of trailers and malls. The phrase ‘lonesome crowded’ seems to embody this, and Modest Mouse give a sense of this contradiction in the road trip they take the listener on. As with most vagrant travellers, they also seem to have a concern with the transitory nature of time which inspires their most poignant lyrics: “And it’s been a long time, which agrees with this watch of mine”, “In this life that we call home the years go fast and the days go slow”.
Their sound can only really be described as unpredictable and angular, combining howling woodsmoke and whisky vocals, incendiary guitar, insistently busy, melodic bass and heat-haze drums. Comparisons might be difficult and lazy, but to gove an impression of their sound think of Primus grooves by way of a harsher XTC or Gang Of Four’s sonic waywardness soaked in whisky, the persistent aroma of gasoline and a humid atmosphere. They have a fair knack for aggressive melody, but somehow it’s a bit much to take on all at once - the album occasionally fights a losing battle with your aural awareness and attention span. As with pretty much everything on the excellent Matador label, well worth a listen.
Various Artists
The Chill Out Room
Columbia
Indifference...never an emotion which produces a charming review - but unfortunately, the only response this CD evokes.
Another major label cutting in on the "big scene" seen as being the current, "hip" money spinner - and Bob's your uncle - you've nailed Columbia's Chillout enterprise. Cynicism and secret (very hush hush) techno fascist principles aside, this is in theory an OK compilation if you are either new to the scene and need a sample to whet your tastebuds, or prefer the lightweight, more mainstream end of the dance culture. Far enough then, this could satisfactorily do the job.
The lullaby melody of Primal Scream's ‘Revolutionary’ followed by the occasionally enchanting Morcheeba do set a tone for a come down/ easy listening relief session. The terminally groovy David Holmes and angelic Orbital lift the compilation into its occasional truly sublime moments. However, the rest just fester in a languid pool of who-gives-a-shit.
But is that being unjust? Just coz Mono suck the big one and much of the remainder beg for sloppy seconds does not mean to say that The Chill Out Room could serve its purpose well: to provide a quick and accessible sample of what is out there.
Seeing that half the tracks on here are 2 to 5 years old anyway. I'd personally go for one of the many superlative prior compilations available. On an objective note, this one is too little too late. If you're spending 15 quid on a CD - whether you've been into mellow beats and bleeps for a while - or just getting started...do yourself a favour, spend your money more wisely than this.
Major Force West
Major Force West
Mo Wax
Major Force West may not be a household name here but they are a cultural force of their own in Japan. Their work has affected the last decade's music greatly in the Land of the Rising Sun and its members have spread their influence far and wide - 'Money' Mark Nishita is an ex-collaborator. This outing covers the ever-evolving group's creations from 1993 to 1997, following last year's release of the their earlier works. Over this period the outfit consisted mainly of the producer pairing of Kudo and Toshi, but others play their part, especially on the latter tracks of the album. The overall sound is just that, a sound, an hour long muse that drifts from here to there without ever settling. The album covers a five year period but the tracks fuse into one another and the effect is more one of a studio piece than a compilation.
First impressions are not too promising, and although a couple of tracks, 'Heavy Loaded Head' and 'America 2000' in particular, stand out the rest of the music appears to have little focus. It is easy to write the whole thing off as whimsy or random tunes, but further concentration pays dividends. Over time the background continuity is overlaid with a variety of melodies and focused loops that grab the ear and almost make you feel proud to have noticed them.
Yes there are tracks which are pure indulgence, 'India 2000' consists of snatches of female conversation over a zither and pipes, but the overall effect is often enchanting and enthralling. This is the kind of music that begins as background music and ends up dominating the room. It may not be essential listening but it sure is addictive.
Lodger
A Walk In The Park
Island
Featuring Powder's Pearl Lowe and Supergrass' Danny Goffey, 'A Walk In The Park' marks Lodger's debut, supposedly promising an alternative slant to the female-led guitar group. So does this album offer an original take on an old formula, or is it just the same Britpop we've all heard before? It opens promisingly enough, with 'I'm Leaving', a duet with Lowe and fellow band member Neil Carlill. Not unlike Space's 'The Ballad of Tom Jones' (but without the comedy factor), it's an infectious track that you can tap your foot to if nothing else. Following that the album flows into couple of darker, slower songs before picking up again, with more catchy numbers such as 'Bones' and 'Love is the Game'. After these the record differs little from this formula for the remainder of the songs, all of them competent, but none outstanding. One thing that does set this album apart from the rest is the vocals. The majority of the songs are duets, creating an interesting contrast. Although some tracks would probably be better as solos, on the whole the duets do provide a refreshing alternative to a lot of similar bands. However, this is the only thing that really sets Lodger apart from other bands. Good though the album is, it doesn't offer anything else that hasn't been done before and so from this point of view the promise of a new slant hasn't been fulfilled. All things said and done, though, it's still a fairly good record and despite its shortcomings it's still worth a look.
Various Artists
Gotta Get A Message To You: Bee Gees Tribute Album
Polydor
Before I get into this review I must separate my views from the purpose of the album. Recorded in aid of Live Challenge '99, the album will provide funds to help disadvantaged and homeless people. Any comments contained here are not directed at the charity and only concern the musical content (anyone get the feeling I'm going to slag it off?).
It cannot be denied that the Bee Gees have made a great contribution to music. They have a Lifetime Achievement Brit Award to prove that. I'm sure most of us have done the "pointy finger" dance to 'Staying Alive'. So why shouldn't there be a tribute album for these talented individuals? Probably because tribute albums are pure evil.
Many current artists are featured, from Robbie Williams and The Orb, to Boyzone, from the ever annoying Cleopatra to the "Honey, I'm not entirely a woman" Eurovision winner Dana International. This album will not be in the wish lists of most Indie/Alternative fans. In fact it won't be on most music fans’ wish list.
Some terrible versions of our "favourite" songs are here, possibly recorded at a local Karaoke bar. The Lightning Seeds had obviously lost all their instruments and borrowed a guitar from some dodgy looking bloke with a beard to bring to life a frankly arse version of 'To Love Somebody'. Also upsetting is Space's rendition of 'Massachusetts'. They remembered their instruments but lost any ability to sing in tune.
To sum up the album we need a track from one for everyone's nightmare band - Steps. 'Tragedy'. At least it made a nice Christmas present for my Auntie.
Ballroom
Day After Day
Mother Records
Here we have the debut album from four British boys and their guitars. And to be honest it's a promising first attempt. Unfortunately I read somewhere that the band have since split. Anyway, Ballroom are pretty standard indie fare along the lines of Rialto, Embrace and Suede ( How's that for lazy journalism?). There's plenty of strings and sing-a-long bits and is slickly produced. The best track is also the fastest, opener ‘Take it'. This is catchy with a toe-tapping tune. However the rest of the album contains slower and less memorable songs. In general ‘Day After Day' starts well and doesn't keep it up. They may not be bad but they are uninspiring and a touch predictable. Some, like ‘Household Names' and ‘Believe', lack direction and become over-long. Ballroom have written some nice lyrics; e.g. Through the Day, a very good song: "I want something new/This is old, this is borrowed, this is blue/I gave it all up for you". But the same lyrics can be repeated too much - a few more lines are needed. Gary Prosser's voice is capable and emotive, and similar to Brett Anderson, especially on ‘Seven's a Secret'. Naturally most of the tracks are concerned with love-lost, pathos, etc; see ‘Beauty Sleep': "Beauty's only skin deep/Do you need your beauty sleep?" and ‘Heads or Tails': "I'll make you understand/Just sit down next to me". Inoffensive without being different. Neither does the inclusion of ‘hidden' track ‘Someone like You' mark Ballroom as ground-breaking geniuses. What is the point? It's a fully-formed song not an arty cacophony recorded for a laugh. I don't understand. However, overall a respectable debut just lacking the edge to lift it from the crowd.
Peter Thomas Sound Orchestra
Warp Back To Earth '66/'99
Bungalow
An esoteric treat from an interesting electronica independent, "Warp Back To Earth" acts as both homage and introduction to this "lost" German composer. Consisting of 17 songs, all created from selected Thomas originals, this fascinating project ropes in artists as diverse as Mr. Scruff, Stereolab and Saint Etienne to create something which, as far as remix albums go, has to be one of the most inventive of its type. There's also an added bonus for those heathens who don't buy vinyl, as the second CD contains the 29 originals from which the remixes are made, and it's essential for any Krautrock fans out there, or anyone else for that matter.
Most of the expected experimental names are here, though the drone rock end of things has been bypassed, and some less obvious names also attend. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it is the unlikely contributors who do best; Ronnie & Clyde and The Sons Of Silence in particular, turn in excellent breakbeat excursions, whilst the mighty Stock, Hausen & Walkman turn in the commendably daft "Space Rocks". Saint Etienne's "Chaos In The Gym" carries on where last year's Good Humor left off, and old hands The High Llamas and Stereolab contribute two quality exercises in melodicism, each bearing traces of their recent(ish) collaborations with Mouse On Mars. The stand-out track, though, is Coldcut's astonishing "Peter In Space", which almost justifies the LP on its own. A true classic. There are a few moments when heads appear to be well inserted in arses (stand up, Stereo Total and Schneider TM), and quite why Momus is still with us is a mystery, but its hardly enough to ruin the fun. Perhaps this will be the one that brings not only Peter Thomas, but also Bungalow, to a wider audience.