playlist - March 2010: Johnny Cash... Deplhic... Girls... and more

Johnny Cash - Ain't no Grave: the "final studio" album from the old fella, posthumously completed by Rick Rubin and tail ending the indispensable American Recordings series. This one is spine-tingling; he sounds ancient, weary, but still disturbingly strong and unbroken, like some 500 year old vampire-wizard-king, ... if you were unlucky enough for him to take a mild dislike to you, he'd slit your throat with a long fingernail and drink the warm blood with an air of resigned sadness. Don't look directly into his eyes... r.i.p Johnny.

Here We Go Magic - Here We Go Magic: noodling and atmospheric, powerfully evokes a physical landscape, like a soundtrack to some lost european art-house film about young love and camping. An anglicised, less fantastical Sigur Ros, reminiscent of a less bloody minded My Bloody Valentine.

Massive Attack - Hegioland: ... oh I dunno. Sounds well constructed but somehow a bit dead. Not bland, just lacking some kind of soul. Like they found a master tape of Guy Garvey vocals from some lost album and appropriated them... completely out of context. Bring back Tracey, boys.

Girls - Album: unapologetic, radio-friendly, teenage surf rock. Handclaps and guitar riffs. Simple, singalong choruses, a band to hire for your high school dance... very much in the vein of Urge Overkill. Liking "God Damned".

Beach House - Beach House: oh cripes. The Carpenters @ 2010. dearie me. I'd like to throttle them. You know the way kid's tv presenters will perform some stupid, trite song slightly too slowly and with over enunciation... in a word - twee.

Delphic - Acolyte: on first impression they sounded a bit too much like the Editors. On further investigation they sound like the Editors via Duran Duran, with a liberal sprinkling of New Order... which is definitely No Bad Thing At All. Yet again I find that the nefarious machine that's been stoking the hype behind these lads is uncannily on the money. More club-by than expected too... good driving music and uber-radio-friendly. The review's album of the month. (cheers M for the tip off).

ps... Vampire Weekend, live at Brixton 16 Feb 2010

I think at this stage the jury is out as to whether Vampire Weekend are to be a gimmicky fad, or whether there is a seriously influential career being born here.
Undeniably, their pop hooks have the inescapable power of a heavyweight's punch, and they now have an intelligent, developed versalitility that wasn't immediately obvious on the first album.
The comparison is perhaps exaggerated, but their set suggested an alternative universe where the youthful late-50's Quarrymen, instead of being weaned on american rockabilly and blues, had instead been enchanted with a wave of African rhumba. Simply, they're a regular rock and roll band taking instead the sunny, joyful, lyrical pan-african reggae as a launch pad. It's no foolish choice either. This music has conquered the entire continent, pushing the real tribal music to the traditional fringe. As a genre it has proved it's credientials for mass appeal.
Live - they looked so impossibly young and clean cut.
Respect due also for the inelaborate stage design; just an oversized poster of the album cover, a set of chandliers like the one on debut album, and some elementary lights.
Having said which, I tired of it all after an hour. There's no real sex appeal (well, not as far as I can tell) in what they do, no violence and no politics. There's no forceful, charismatic personality fronting it all, and so what you're left with is simply the pop songs themselves... which are great, but just as yet they don't sustain a full sized gig. Still, there's more to come I'm sure.

Highlights: ..the best of the new album - "Horchata", Diplomat's Son"..

p.s. if you like this, check out the euro-african dance fusion outfit The Very Best.

Yeasayer, Vampire Weekend... comrades in world pop

Two bands from New York state. Both young, both white. Both making a very modern kind of indie-pop. Both releasing their sophomore albums early in the year. In 2010, we should know; gone is depression... gone is moody introspection and isolation... gone is nihilism and noise. Today, we're in a globalised world and we're in this together. We're looking forward, and outward. We're thinking about communities and the environment. We're looking for solutions not destruction... or at least, that's the message we find here.

Yeasayer and Vampire Weekend are the latest in something of an East Coast, wasp-ish wave. Sharing a millieu with the equally contemporary Animal Collective, Grizzly Bear and TV on the Radio, the hottest indie-ware on the planet right now is clay-baked in Brooklyn and New Jersey.

There's a general wellspring of shared musical heritage among them - 80's art rock being the main fertiliser for this crop, but also there's a distinctive undercurrent of house music - as reinvented by indie kids. Much of this stuff is ready made for club-land, both directly in a similar way to the eighties pop was consciously aimed at the dancefloor and the radio in equal measure, and also in it's receptivity to the more post-modern hip electronic remix which, as ever, lends the original some cred-by-association.

Vampire Weekend are the more famous of the pair as a result of the huge festival mega-hit "A-Punk", but I've personally struggled to share the popular love to date. They exude the particular flavourc of hubris that only relatively, wealthy, educated, first world young adults can manage; an air which happily and energetically informs you that everything they do is "Amazing!! and Fabulous!! (LOL!!)". It's perhaps too easy, even a bit lazy to fall into the trap of sniping at the naievity. Sure, we were then when Paul Simon discovered Africa the first time around. But you can't blame the kids for the wonder of their own re-discovery.

Nevertheless, I found the campus-in-joke-y-"aren't-we-clever"-ness of debut Vampire Weekend hard to take, in the full knowledge that this categorically makes me a grumpy old man. Which is not to say it's not great pop. It's just a little too young and happy for me.

New album "Contra" is slightly different and to my possibly cholerical ears, an improvement. Their wholesale appropriation of african and latin styles has been the subject of broad debate in the blogosphere. Yet again we appear to have white musicians "stealing" authentic black music and making a mass-market killing along the way. The equally compelling counter argument is by introducing the music to a white audience, barriers are broken down and understanding increased. In my view, if they've been inspired by Afican musicians, and they very clearly have, they should publicly and vocally talk about it and support the artists and their music in return. It's a win-win.

In any case the album is brimful and overflowing with sunshine and harmony, as carefree and wonderous as a bag of Skittles.

 

By contrast Yeasayer's debut album All Hour Cymbals had a late seventies hippy folk rock sound, suggesting both the soundscapes of Dark Side era Pink Floyd, and the harmonies and spirits of Crosby, Stills and Nash. This time out have turned their face fully to Old Europe. More accessible and less jovial than Vampire Weekend, they're nevertheless immensely likeable, hummable, and friendly bunch of songs. This is the shiny-romantic, glitterball-lit end of the Smash Hits age, with echoes of The Thompson Twins, or A-Ha, Tears for Fears, Fine Young Cannibals, Crowded House. Other people hear Fleetwood Mac, and as noted in the Word review of Odd Blood, the album perhaps resonates most directly with Peter Gabriel's more chart friendly output from  the 'So..' era - big drums, muscular bass and sweet synths... there's little trace of (either old or nu-) punk's sweaty stains. It's all perfectly in tune with this early millenial cultural fascination with the eighties.

They have a wonderful way with harmonies (in my opinion the magical secret ingredient in great pop), and an enjoyably unpredictable way of songwriting. Opener "The Children" is a strange choice in the listing, full of distorted vocals that make it sound like your record player's on the blink. First single "Ambling Alp" has a deconstructed, harmony-centred sound similar to Animal Collective's recent output. "Love Me Girl" has house music synths and breakbeat touches.

My favourite so far is the emotional "I Remember"... sounding like an aching melancholic rainy Saturday afternoon.

So, highlights from the pair;
Yeasayer's Odd Blood: "Ambling Alp" and "I Remember"
Vampire Weekend's Contra: opener "Horchata" is the most brain-maddeningly infectious slice of anything I've heard in quite a while, "Holiday" possibly the second most, "Diplomat's Son" is just all in lovely.

Gosh, it's been ages since there was such a simple, honest, male pop record and here come two at once. Set the fun to 11 and go.

The Flaming Lips... a candle in the darkness

As a first impression, this sounded like a (pejoratively) American take on Radiohead's In Rainbows - this album being also a modern extrapolation of electro-prog-rock, another homage to the evergreen Kraftwerk legacy. The similarities, though, are perhaps found more indirectly in a shared source inspiration for both groups.

But where Thom and the boys seek out any trace of disonant alienation, sparing scant thought for the listener in the process, the 'Lips are altogether a more cosy, cuddly outfit. They're famous for their live show, where the goal is a visceral form of group entertainment potentially involving stage make-up, enormous ballons, fireworks, animal costumes... oh, and some killer songs. And they're equally famous for their unapologetically 'concept', sci-fi affected studio work - the final track on the last album was titled - "Approaching Pavonis By Balloon (Utopia Planitia)". Recently they organised a mass nude fans cycle ride to provide footage for a video clip. Their raison d'etre is to spread the joy of imagination and their approach is democratically inclusive.

While earlier albums have a child-like sense of wonder and curiosity, with Embryonic they belatedly outgrow the wacky art-student tendencies. This album is much darker. Indeed it goes as far as being decidedly sombre. And with slightly less all around boisterousness, there's space for the melancholic mood to work itself into the fabric. They sound as if they're battling both outer demons and inner nightmares. So the echoey, haunting "Evil", the ghostly, plaintive "If", the mournful "Powerless"... invoke a threatening atmosphere, like a looming dusk. These bitter pills are interspersed between the more upbeat and hopeful "The Sparrow Looks Up at the Machine", "See The Leaves", "The Ego's Last Stand". Their former mode appears briefly on the fantastical "I can be a Frog"... complete with comical sound effects.

The album picks up in spirit towards the end, with a gorgeous, poignant trilogy to close out the album - the puslating "Silver Trembling Hands" drops smoothly into the wistful instrumental "Virgo Self-Esteem Broadcast" which echoes earlier phrases and sounds, before the stirring finale "Watching the Planets" - which roughly encapsulates the whole Flaming Lips kitchen sink in a single track.

There's an early 70's vibe to it, for my money - Pink Floyd, say, or John Lennon. It made me go listen again to Meddle, and the aesthetic is similar, but where that album soars off and away with expansive prog rock, Embryonic definitely seeks a closer, more intimate, connection to the listener. (The band's next album is reportedly a re-recording of Dark Side of the Moon).

Technically, there's a lot of a fuzzed-out overdrive on the guitar and, interestingly, on the bass as well, which helps give it that early 70's sound, resembling say the White Album. The drums and vocals are hugely reverb-ed to give that big booming effect, like the album was recorded in a dancehall. Indeed it sounds almost analogue, which is a delightfully refreshing pleasure.

Despite superficial similarities to their equally prog-rock devoted, uber hip peers, the Lips have been doing this from the beginning and there's really nothing else out there quite like it. There's a coherence to the sound and pace of this album that rewards listening to it in it's entirety. With Embryonic, the Lips demonstrate real compositional maturity. This is a deeply emotional record, full of drama and colour both in the music and the lyrics.

Highlights: "The Sparrow Looks Up at the Machine". "Powerless", "Silver Trembling Hands", "Watching the Planets"

Links: Watching the Planets (live) , NPR Interview - Making of Embryonic

The Swell Season... real people, real live (Shepherds Bush Empire, Thu 14th Jan 2010)

It's not really fair on us mere mortals for someone to successfully write music, and lyrics, and sing, and play guitar, ... and be a generous artist not a control freak, and not be an ego maniac, and be utterly engaged and sharing with the audience, and be funny, ... all at the same time, faultlessly.

How does one get to this point in an artistic career (he must have been working as a full time musician, what - 20years?), and not be deeply angry with the world (like say, David Gilmour), or have become introverted and withdrawn (like say, Van Morrison), or just plain bonkers (like say, Prince). You can't imagine Glen Hansard writing a political protest album, or 'reinventing' himself, or writing a musical, or moving 'full-time' to LA. He's just bloody normal like the rest of us, and that's weird.

Hansard has a frankly intimidating cohort of strengths (and every time I think about it I find new ones), but live he has an amazingly soul-warming ability to connect with the audience. At times during the show it's as if he's organising an impromptu singalong at the local pub. (Actually he gets us singing quite a lot - I think he uses it as his own way of gauging how well the gig is going - our singing is his reward, his private payback and possibly the main reason he does this at all).

In the narrative in my head - he's honed his performing manner and on stage presence by busking in the street (just like in the movie Once, so, yes, possibly just a fantasy) - years and years of struggling to earn enough to survive as a musician. The ability to easily drop off the cuff jokes and banter casually like a standup is something that takes many years of live work. The moment where he steps conpletely off mic to the stage to play "Say it to me now", plain and raw, - it's breathtaking - (it works as a gimmick too - the audience is almost shocked), and I think he does it to honour that memory of where he's come from, a gesture of respect towards his art.

The gig was just flawless. It was perfect in a completely natural way, not in a 'every-minute-detail-in-the-proper-place' way. All the musicians are so talented that there's not a wrong note in the entire show - but it's as live and real and in the moment as possible. You're swept away by Hansard's visceral passion and joy for what he's doing.

And then Irglova. On piano, on backing vocals, and singing centre-stage herself - she doesn't disappoint in the least. What I find impressive is her fierce, fierce inner confidence. The boys - Glen and the Frames are a) all Irish (obviously) where she is Czech, and b) they've have been mates and worked together for more than a decade and she's the newbie. And yet she has the confidence to express her artistic voice in amongst that. Her singing reminded me most of Joni Mitchell (which got me thinking about who are the essential female singing archetypes - I reckon;  folk - Joni Mitchell, jazzy - Billie Holiday or Ella or both, poppy - Dusty Springfield, soul - Aretha, indie- Kate Bush, rock/punk - Patti Smith.... ), and her songs are exactly as ethnic/traditional as I thought they were - all in sweet, gypsy tinged, strictly minor keys.

The set was based around most or all of Strict Joy, with various older songs scattered in between, and interestingly just the one cover - a rollicking, fiery version of Tim Buckley's "Buzzin Fly" (with a stanza from Jeff Buckley's)

Some other notes: i) Hansard's guitar - a Takamine accoustic, is used almost entirely through the show (only change I noticed) - I think that's another sign of mature confidence not needing to flit around on various slightly different guitars, ii) The Frames - essentially they're a highly competent rhythm section, there's very little soloing, and the bass player (who has a wonderfully melodic style) is the main momemtum driver - they'd do well in the Austin country/roots scene.

The highlights, besides the entire thing, for me were "In these arms", "I have loved you wrong" and the closing High Horses (they can't pull off the coda quite as well as on the album.. but still it's just stupendously good).

Set list (thanks Martina!)

Fallen from the sky
Lies
Low rising
Feeling the pull
In these arms
The Rain
The moon
If you want me
Fantasy man
Say it to me now
Leave
Back broke
Buzzin Fly (Tim Buckley cover)
solo Interlude by Colm Mac Con Iomaire
I have loved you wrong
The verb
The siren
When your minds made up
Falling slowly
High hopes
High horses

Links:
The Swell Season
The Frames