It’s New Years bloody Eve, why are you reading this instead of rolling around in a puddle of vomit, cheap whiskey and party-popper innards? That is what fun is all about isn’t it?
Well not quite.
When pianist Andrew Dost quit superb Chicago indie ensemble Anathallo in 2009 (leaving them with a mere 7 members), one might have been forgiven for thinking his next musical move would be in the same pensive, sombre vein. One, in this instance, couldn’t have been more wrong.
Teaming up with Nate Ruess, formerly of The Format, and Jack Antonoff, still of Steel Train, Dost is now involved in an unlikely, yet surprisingly successful, supergroup: fun. (yes, full stop in the title).
Their debut album, Aim and Ignite couldn’t be a further cry from Floating World, Dost’s last record with Anathallo. It can only be described as what the Beach Boys, or even Queen, might have sounded like if Weezer’s power-pop had been one of their influences. At a fairground.
The first time I heard the opening track, Be Calm, I was somewhat overwelmed by the corucopia of instruments, melodies and ideas being thrown at me. Ruess’ voice is also outstanding; ranging from quivering hushed tones to half-screamed highs. Other highlights are the the afro beat ditty, Walking the Dog, and the plush trumpet and harmonies in I Wanna be the One.
However, talking of highlights in such a consistently brilliant album just seems silly. Just buy it; it will be the best, most fun. £7.99 you ever part with.
The Smoothest Gooch blog, whose high standard of content matches the juvenile hilarity of its title and banner, have uncovered (or rather, been sent) a gem — Murdok’s rework of Imogen Heap’s 2-1. While the oh-so-cooky Heap burst onto the scene some time ago with auto-tune-a-thon Hide and Seek (of which there is a pretty solid remix by rising dupstep producer Mt Eden), her recent album, Ellipse, was pretty disappointing. This remix, as ‘the Gooch rightly appraises, has breathed some much needed life into her music.
Her voice, an asset never in doubt, is allowed to flow — free from the shackles of her increasingly-neurotic production. And while the differing LFO speeds (the wobbly bits — in layman’s terms) and shuffled hi-hats are nothing new, this is still a well thought-out track. The atmospheric production makes it — along with Jack Beats’ La Roux, and Neon Steve’s Phoenix, remixes — one of the better offerings of the year!
For those of you whose image of Christmas is — like that hellish, Wham! video/monstrosity — adorned with quaint portraits of roasted chestnuts, mulled wine and other things people pretend to like around this time of year, here’s somewhat of a musical digression.
Fenech Soler have just ripped the wrapping paper open to reveal what can only be described as an absolute monster. Their remix of the Marina and the Diamonds chart botherer, Hollywood(available below), sees them trade-in their traditional trancyness for utter, buzzsaw-synth-induced brute force.
Anyone familiar with the BBC or Guardian’s ‘hotly-tipped for 2010′-esque lists will be familiar with Marina and the Diamonds. I took particular interest in the starlet as, although now living in London, she hails from my hometown of Abergavenny. This surely makes Fenech Soler’s remix the best piece of music to have origins in this suburban ville.
Although I’ve nothing too positive to say about the overblown theatrics of the original record, Fenech Soler augment the positive features the 23-year-old Welsh-Greek artist does possess — they make one feel as if Hollywood was recorded specifically with their rework in mind. Marina’s uniquely-strong voice makes for a perfect foil to the rasping, compressed bass. And while, in the original, her brash “Oh my God” was a little annoying; here, it gleefully-heralds a small field-trip for your speaker cones, and, no doubt, another boost in notoriety for the precocious Fenech Soler.
If you do anything else this xmas besides guzzle mince pies and politely recieve gifts you don’t really want, make sure you watch this video: a beautifully shot, intimate concert of balkan-indie crossover outfit Beruit from the fantastic French blog, La Blogotheque.
Check out other videos on their site — it’s much, much better than this one!
There’s the debate. Here’s my oar. No prizes for guessing what I’m about to do.
This list is, believe it or not, comprised of my opinions and my opinions alone. It is also merely a collection of albums I have listened to and, considering I’m a fairly poor excuse of a music blogger (often shunning new releases on little more than gut feeling and unfounded prejudice), there are bound to be stark omissions. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ latest album, for example, was a record which, while I thoroughly enjoyed Fever To Tell, I just didn’t really listen to and have no reasonable explanation as to why.
This said, I may well have ‘forgotten’ the odd record; so feel free to leave a comment informing me of my error in however polite a tone you see fit.
I have provided a youtube stream for each artist and each header is a link directing you to somewhere where you can purchase said album.
Almosts: Bat For Lashes — Two Suns: Daniel is a great song; but the rest of the album doesn’t really live up to it.
Major Lazer — Guns Don’t Kill People, Lazers Do: Same as Two Suns, Pod de Floor is huge, though.
Animal Collective — Merriweather Post Pavilion: Good album but perhaps got hyped too much before I had chance to listen.
Spokes — People Like People Like You: Very promising, though not quite concise enough to break the 20.
Actor is an adroit album; but what did you expect from a 27-year-old who’s already been in Sufjan Stevens‘ touring band and the Polyphonic Spree (although the latter claim doesn’t exactly put her in a selective group, does it?) I’m not sure it’s quite as good as her debut, 2007’s ironically-titled Marry Me, but this, her second album, is a breath of fresh air — aerating the many fusty, stale offerings from other female perpetrators this year.
The Hazards of Love is a rock-opera concept-album. It details a medieval love affair between a woman and a shape-shifting forest dweller. Indeed. Frontman Colin Meloy has never been one to cover old ground and, while the opening line of this blurb my put many people off (I really wouldn’t try too hard to disuade them as, if medieval concept rock operas aren’t your thing, it’s probably best to steer clear of this one), his fifth album’s staggering ambitiousness is only matched by its intertwined brilliance.
While most of the dubstep community continue to scratch around on the camp-fire-illuminated cave wall with their incessantly-wobbling LFOs and La Roux samples (I’m not saying I don’t enjoy this in a very guilty pleasure sort of way), artists like Martyn and Dutch impresario 2562 are constantly charting new territory. I wanted to include the latter’s new release, Unbalence, but it has only just come out and I haven’t listened to it enough yet. Martyn’sGreat Lengths boldly plots new points on the dubstep map with it’s dubstep-come-spooky-techno lonely rhythms.
Okay, so it’s not an album; but as this list reveals itself to you, you will realise (if, by some miracle, you read until its denouement) this ‘rule’ is by no means sacrosanct. Copy Haho are ace, fun, Scottish and possibly many other adjectives, but you get the idea. If you haven’t already, go listen to this as well as many of the other bands Big Scary Monsters records have on their ever-growing roster!
The late, great Colour are one of the major artists I regrettably never got to see before they broke up — along with Spy Verses Spy and J.S.Bach. The are survived, however, by this: an anthology of every song they ever recorded in their fleeting existence. As well as personal favorites, songs such as Over the Moon and Chutes, we get to see this accomplished mathy-indie band’s progression through their recording career. A sad loss.
Talking of defunct bands on Big Scary Monsters records, from the ashes of Meet Me in St Louis arose singer, Tobias Hayes’, solo project, Shoes and Socks Off. While his first record, From the Muddy Banks of Melitzer, was a virtuoso, bedroom-esque one-man-and-his-guitar effort, the follow-up, Hand Reared Suburban Piglet, took the same great songs and embellished them. The revised versions ranged from MPC-fuled hip-hop cross-over to neo-classical serialist violin staggered genius.
One of the more cultured and considered ‘indie-electro’ outfits of recent times, Junior Boys didn’t disappoint with their third album: a hazy, retro production of slick proportions. While not satisfying some fans’ of their earlier releases (mainly due to allegations of swapping good song writing for good production), there is plenty on offer here. Hazel is a disco gem; a piece of music which, it has been proven by scientists, provokes an irresistible desire to pout like you’re in one of those inescapable-at-this-time-of-year perfume adverts.
Samantha Crain is one of the newer arrivals on the US indie-country scene. However, with Songs for the Night, she could easily be receiving the kind of acclaim heaped on Oberst, Adams, and Welch et al. There is many a whistle-friendly tune on this record and it’s the fact her band keep it simple which allows the songs, and perhaps more importantly Crains gorgeous voice, to ring through.
Another female offering at number 12 really makes me frustrated that most of the ‘girls doing it for themselves’ rhetoric we’ve heard this year has been the product of such uninspiring music (cf Florence and the Machine, Little Boots etc). Luckily, for those privy to this trio’s nuggets of casio greatness, there is salvation at hand. Still Night, Still Night is simultaneously charming and terrifyingly-cool.
The xx are named so because xx, as anyone who studied latin at an Our Lady of the League Tables school knows, is 20 in roman numerals — the average age of the band. Now, I’m not going to launch into some patronising polemic about ‘oohh aren’t they doing well’ and so forth; but xx does show staggering maturity. Just compare it to anything by Symposium for Christ’s sake. The lonely guitar-simmering drums combination works in a kind of naive way (much of the album was recorded while still learning their instruments), but it is the male-female vocal combination which sets this debut from the pack.
Hospice is a morbid tale of the relationship between a cancer sufferer and an abusive carer. Main man Peter Silberman wrote the record solo in a few lonely years living in Brooklyn, only recruiting Michael Lerner and Darby Cicci much later on. The sombre seclusion felt in Hospice is a testament to this. But doesn’t stop it being a fantastic, fantastic record. Just make sure you lock away the paracetamol and sharp objects before you get stuck in —lest you do a successful ‘Owen Wilson’.
If this was a ’shittest band names’ list, Freelance Whales would be up there with Arctic Monkeys, Papa Roach and The Beatles. Luckily for the Williamsburg quintet, their chirpy, banjo-driven pop is just too irresistible. The vocals maybe too sweet for some — especially in an age where it’s fashionable to sound like you’ve been down a Yorkshire mineshaft all day (cf The Kooks, The Maccabees). However, what the voice may lack in weathered integrity, the music more than makes up for.
Dirty Projectors have been around for a while. Still, I’m sure I wasn’t alone on hearing Cannibal Resource, the first track on Bitte Orca, and thinking it was quite unlike anything I’d encountered before. While Dave Longstreth clearly pulls the strings, it is the disjointed rhythmical vibe and abstract, parallel vocal harmonies of the whole band which pricks the ears. In a year where Brooklyn, at times, seemed to dominate almost everything interesting going on in Indie music, it speaks volumes of the band that they are so lauded as innovators in the field. Fuck Florence: this is how to make pop music unique without becoming a self-parodying, ostentatious twat.
The self-effacingly-named The Very Best exploded onto the Blogosphere in 2008 with their ‘mixtape’ of remixes. This included M.I.A’s Paper Planes and, bizarrely, The Beatles‘ Birthday. Shortly after this, the song Warm Heart of Africa started doing the rounds on radio. While the guest appearence from Vampire Weekend’s Ezra Koenig (this is the closest he’s getting to this list) had a slightly ‘Paul Simon‘, African-music-made-for-the-West quality about it, this was a big tune — evoking a gleeful, carnival-like quality. The rest of the record is perhaps more authentic to the band’s cultural roots and makes a refreshing change from much of the past tourist-rock based around the continent’s culture.
‘It doesn’t have to be beautiful’ (starts after 30 seconds)
When I first heard about this album, I thought I’d find it about as enjoyable as having the story of the nativity read to me by a fascist. Happy-happy duo erring on a bash-core vibe? No thanks. However, I listened to it and, after a fair amount of pride swallowing, I fucking loved it. It’s a great record and I think even a more austere misanthrope than this embittered blogger would find it hard to resist it — of which there are many. The harmonies are great, the melodies, even better. There is a definite charm on offer here — as well as oodles of twee. If you’re not humming on of the hooks by the end, I’d break out the chest paddles.
Fans of bands who ‘do vocals’ look away now. Fans of amazing, electronica-influenced, beatsey indie rock, come in, sit down by the fire, meet Cougar. They simultaneously chop up guitars, turning them into epileptic, glitchy entities; and exhume a lost, almost psychedelic richness. Right from the first track, Stay Famous, which slyly decieves you, priming you for a rock assault, only to drop into a trip-hop groove, the album is packed full of instrumental goodness which just about manages to keep on the good side of self-indulgent.
In a year which saw a curious rise in style-over-substance bow-tied singers and glockenspiel-playing guitarists, Fanfarlo convinced by wearing their twee-indie-garb over a toned physique of great songs. Some saw them as an Anglo-version of the ubiquitous Arcade Fire, but I think a more apt description would be a more upbeat Anathallo. Frontman Simon Balthazar leads from the front, acoustic guitar in hand. And while the mandolines, glockenspiel and trumpets add unique elements (although perhaps not all that unique to anyone who’s heard Beirut), they are never the meat, merely the gravy.
Okay, so not technically an album; but it’s my list. This super-group pairing were always going to be good but, on Moth in particular, the talents of both producers copulate and give birth to something magical. It’s not clear what roles each party took in either song — the sleeve is plain black with no liner notes — but Burial’s tradmark beat is evident on Wolf Club, as is Four Tet’s sonic jewelry. Kieron Hebden, the man behind the latter, is renowned for his spiritually-charged performances and one would be surprised if he wasn’t the major perpetrator in Moth’s opening — a low didgeridoo-like drone. What follows is the best nine minutes of electronic music all year.
A close second. I honestly don’t think there’s been an album released like this in the last 30 years. Everything from the shared lead vocal duties to the disjointed rhythms mean that it’s never anything approaching forced or contrived. It would be so easy to fuck this album right up; but Grizzly Bear pull it off with stunning élan and vivacity. Never is a note rushed; never one single element over-done. The harmonies are Beach-Boy-crisp and, when the band allow themselves, there is actually a propensity to be up-beat and radio-friendly. A joy.
Everyone likes this record. It works on pretty much every level and that’s why it wins. Emerging from the same scene that produced fellow Galls, Air and Daft Punk, Phoenix were the first ever French chart-topper to chantez en Anglais — and you can see why. The two singles, Lisztomania and 1901, are punchier than a Leona Lewis book signing; although I wouldn’t have liked to have chosen the singles from this release such is the standard of pop-pedigree on offer. As a whole, the nine-song delight is the quintessential indie-album-with-dancing-shoes experience. If you don’t own this record, don’t fret, just right your heinous, heinous wrong. It’s going to be okay.
Shakespeare once said: “Brevity is the soul of wit” (ie don’t waffle on). And, while no one ever seems to disagree with him, the Manchester orchestral-pop group, Spokes, have taken this statement to its logical extreme.
Their five-song, 35-minute debut mini-album, People Like People Like You, contains only a smattering of lyrics. This leaves their vast, arcing, violin-driven song structures to do the majority of the legwork.
The listener has to wait a while to hear the album’s first (and indeed, last) vocals, in the song Precursor. The title of the next song, Sometimes Words are too Slow, perhaps best summarises their philosophy.
PLPLY is a layered and heavily emotive work, bridging the gap between classical and pop. A casual listener may criticise the group for too much shoe-gazing and not enough variety. But casual listeners also probably shouldn’t spend too long away from their NME-intravenous-drip, lest they get any of those dangerous opinions of their own.
Even though Spokes could be compared to other soundscapists, Sigur Rós and Ólafur Arnalds, PLPLY doesn’t quite share their relative digestibility and, thus, isn’t going to bother many daytime radio playlists (not that this is any sort of indictment, mind).
This said, the record seems somehow more accessible than their closest confrères, Yndi Halda. Rather than merely taking on ostinatoes and adding more instruments until a bed-wetting crescendo is reached (as Yndi Halda do but with some verve, it must be added), Spokes prefer an elongated form of the traditional pop structure.
Encouragingly, the band’s latest song, Torn Up in Praise, found on Counter Records’ new sampler, Strike! (which you can, and should, buy here), is even more cohesive and accessible than PLPLY.
The only thing I’m left pondering is whether, considering the band speak very little, their name is self-referentially ironic?
Whatever you say about the British record-buying population, you can never knock their enthusiasm.
Just as the chart-influencing plebeians have promoted acts such as the Crazy Frog and the Fast Food Rockers, the valiant population of our proud nation have now taken it upon themselves to topple Dr Cowell’s evil, Sony-backed pop-monopoly by buying a song backed by… er… Sony.
Well, I’m sure the Zapatistas of Mexico and the 30 million below the US poverty line, who Rage Against the Machine once passionately and poetically protested for, will be glad the music — which has long since been an anthem to white, middle class, teenage door slamming — is finally achieving some good.
Anyway, while this saga has been going on with dauntless abandon, there has been some bloody good music being released.
‘The Splendour’
Fans of German minimal techno blippery will be excited to hear that Berlin and Paris-based artist Pantha du Prince, traditionally affiliated with Hamburg’s deep house label, Dial Records, is releasing a new record through Rough Trade on February 8.
The record, Black Noise, features some exciting collaborations — namely Noah Lennox of Panda Bear and Animal Collective and Tyler Pope of and LCD Soundsystem, who plays bass on new single, The Splendour, which was released on December 14.
If this single (which you can download legally, for free, here) is anything to go by, the album will be an utter treat. It begins with the kind of atmospheric, organic stuttered clunks and whirrs which notoriously characterised Aphex Twins’ Drukqs. The beat which comes in is subtle yet perfectly weighted. It evokes that peculiar, welcome loneliness often induced by such sonic material.
Hendrik Weber, as Pantha du Prince is known to his friends, describes his mission as “to render audible what is unheard and unheard of: black noise, a frequency that is inaudible to man. Black noise often presages natural disasters, earthquakes or floods; only some animals perceive this.”
Although this may sound like an ambitious — pretentious even? — pitch, the way the music builds certainly has an ethereal quality to it.
My knowledge of techno is reasonably limited (far more limited than many of my friends anyway, who’ll no-doubt lambast me for my Zane-Lowe-depth on the subject!). However, I’m looking forward to February, when Black Noise is released, probably as much as Joe McElderry is looking forward to February — when this whole X-factor/RATM debarcle has blown over and we’ve forgotten he ever existed.
Sorry about the lack of bloggery recently; I have come back to my parents house for a holiday celebrating big J-dog’s birthday.
I haven’t got much to report as, since the last post, I’ve been consuming lots of alcohol, saying goodbye to University friends, and watching Sky in my grundies.
However, I feel I must share a tune which I just can’t get enough of at the moment. It’s hardly new (Annie Mac as been all over it); but it is certainly BIG.
Joakim’s remix of the Friendly Fiers smash — On Board!
Enjoy, and come back soon for some more updates (maybe even a festive podcast!)
This may sound like hyperbole, but the ensemble were so in tune with each other — focused on the groove, yet lost somewhere in a mystical land of rhythm — that I wouldn’t have been surprised if their incendiary sound actually had set the stage alight.
Monkjack performing at the Globe
Echoing the standard of performance, the venue itself was a beautiful relic; a refurbished modernisation of the old Globe Theatre. The club’s owner, Alan Jones, decided to keep the old venue’s moniker and has also remained faithful to the original décor.
This, along with a desire to promote good music rather than an excuse to get blind-drunk, sets the Globe apart from other, similar venues in Cardiff. It is the reason why acts like Monkjack, who were playing at the 5th birthday celebrations of Wales’s premier mastering company, Hafod Mastering, are attracted to play there.
However, despite these good intentions, live music at the Globe could be dead by February next year.
A torrid year
The venue opened in November 2008 and, while most adjacent residents were glad to see a positive, cultural influence in the area, complaints from just two neighbours are proving detrimental.
Acting on these complaints, the council’s pollution control department served an abetment notice asking noise levels to be reduced. This was one month after the club opened, on December 11, 2008.
After further complaints, reporting that noise had not in fact been curtailed, a review of the Globe’s premises licence by the licensing committee advised a halt to live music at the venue. The club have until the appeal — currently being rescheduled for later in February — to solve the problem.
In her report to the licensing sub-committee, Chief Strategic Planning and Environment Officer, Claire Hartrey said: “I would recommend that the premises does not continue to be used as a live music venue until sound proofing works are completed, in order to ensure that local residents do not continue to be disturbed.”
However, speaking to Ms Hartrey, she predicted the venue would not be able to raise the funds needed to provide the necessary soundproofing.
The Globe's impressive 6 kilowatt sound-system
Complaints
Gerald Lovitt talks about living across the road from the Globe
The complaints have come almost exclusively from two houses. Retired Reverend Gerald Lovitt lives across Albany Road and, although he was sympathetic to the efforts being made by the venue, he admitted, if noise levels were not reduced, the music would have to stop.
The Globe from Mr Lovitt's window
The Globe’s biggest adversary, however, lies behind it on Wellfield Place. Dean Greenway has been by far the most vocal complainant, issuing constant protests both to the club and to pollution control.
The Globe's manager, Alan Jones
Relations between him and the Globe have frayed dramatically. Mr Greenway has rejected offers by the owner to triple glaze his house and to take his family out for the evening on particularly noisy nights.
Mr Greenway said: “It’s unreasonable having a venue in such a residential area. The music goes on till midnight sometimes and when you’ve got kids that’s just unacceptable.”
The Globe have said they understand Mr Greenway’s perspective — evidenced by their commitment to providing a solution to the problem.
Solutions
The assistant manager of the Globe, Andrew Kitchen, predicted works to prevent any complaints from happening could cost between £30,000 and £40,000 — a steep sum in any period, let alone recession.
Manager Josh Davies talks about the proposed sound proofing work.
Nevertheless, Mr Jones is confident the club will be able to make the requisite changes, despite the economic shortfall.
“It’s just sad really because, in our first year of trading, all this money that’s being pumped into soundproofing could have been used for promotion. It’s set us back quite a bit,” he said.
While the drinks were flowing and the revelers hobnobbed the night away at the anniversary party, Mr Jones was out the back of the venue taking decibel readings. A cherry-picker was used to get onto the roof so that he could assess exactly what needs to be done.
Satisfying the pollution control department is essential and the club have until the hearing to resolve the issue.
The club also realise Mr Greenway must be Sympathised with. He has lived on Wellfield Road for far longer than the club has been open. However, the Globe’s mission statement is to provide a venue which is not centered around drinking, but around providing the best music in a unique setting.
Blanche Rowen, who organized Hafod Mastering’s 5th anniversary celebrations, said: “We looked at a few other venues in Cardiff, namely Clwb Ifor Bach. But the beauty and class of the Globe meant it was our first choice.”
The Globe isn't your average venue
The future
The fact is: unless a compromise is reached the Globe will close. This fate also befell ex-Cardiff Bay club The Point, which shut its doors on 27th January because of debt accrued from having to install sound insulation.
Clwb Ifor Bach, on Cardiff’s Womanby Street, is also facing similar fears after plans to build a youth hostel next door were confirmed earlier this year. If this trend continues, Cardiff could well end up with a dearth of the live music culture which has typified its past.
In the beginning there was the typewriter. Old school hacks, it seems, did not even have to be able to write, merely they had to have a guy on the inside, drink whiskey and own a trilby with a ticket shoved in the rim.
These days, the fast-advancing world we live in — not to mention stiff competition from both bloggers and a news-apathetic public — means journalists have to be far more savvy. Having already learned the virtues of how to capture video, layout a page in Quark Xpress and not drinking midweek (thanks for that sage-like advice, Richard Tait), last week we were taught about computer-assisted reporting, or CAR — to use its pun-rich acronym.
Being able to schmooze your contacts and then weave words effectively to tell the stories are essential tools for any journalist, but CAR can put your career into a whole different gear. Is is, quite simply, the art of delving into facts and figure nonchalantly spewed out by government departments and other bodies, in order to scrutinize their probity.
Although the idea has been around for 20 years in the US, it is relatively new to the UK. The main tools needed are Excel and other statistical packages. I can’t wait to get involved with this exciting new technique!
