I'm reading Stevie Chick's predictably-stunning Sonic Youth biography Psychic Confusion. Fascinating stuff, but it's also making me feel oddly nostalgic for my teens, and my first real exposure to 'experimental' music of any description.
In May 1996, i was 13. Sucked in by the excitement of the then-prevalent Britpop era, I'd been reading the NME for about a year, and much of my musical education was informed by that self-same paper (which was still a reasonable term for it at the time - it was still a good four years before its descent into Top Man indie's answer to Hello!). That month, however, I chose to pick up a copy of Vox, largely inspired by the cover feature on my recent discovery, the Manic Street Preachers. The feature itself was fine enough, but as I browsed the record reviews, i stumbled across a tiny acknowledgement of a series of reissues for a band that I'd seen mentioned before. That band was Sonic Youth, and Vox hack Tommy Udo's evident passion for their 80s work piqued my curiosity.
It was all down to two titles really. Their first full album Confusion Is Sex had been repackaged with an EP darkly titled Kill Yr Idols. Given that i was beginning to question the validity of wanting to be a pop star, this synched up perfectly with my barely-formed thoughts, and although i would never have known to express it this way at the time, the sheer rhetorical nihilism of the statement was both dangerous and exciting. Then there was also Daydream Nation - a delightful juxtaposition of words that any teen can relate to, especially one whose head is being turned by the wonderful world of the electric guitar. I wanted these records. Of course, a 13 year old's budget rarely stretches beyond singles, and it was 1997 before I got to hear any of their revered racket. A chance encounter with one of my school's more notorious punk stoners resulted in me nervously asking if he had heard the Youth. Within a few days I had borrowed his copy of their breakthrough post-grunge scree-rock album Dirty, and my journey had begun.
Within a few moments of the opening bars, my mind was blown. By this stage, the most 'out-there' music i'd heard was Pavement's Brighten The Corners, and both Blur and Urusei Yatsura's attempts to sound like that band. I'd heard noise before - but not on this scale; not left wild and chaotic and totally untamed - the album's first track 100% opened with squalling feedback and atonal guitar skronk that rang throughtout the song (except for a few carefully chosen moments of haunting respite), while the melody and riffs were perversely supplied by the rhythm section. Compared to the louder sounds i was used to, like the metallic pop of Nirvana's Nevermind, this was debased and savage, and i instantly wanted more. The rest of the record didn't quite connect with me in the same way, disappointingly, or at least not for a few years. But it was enough for the time being. For Christmas that year i received a copy of Daydream Nation, and instantly fell in love. Again, I didn't get it all immediately - but it was still baffling and huge and viscious and beautiful and terrifying and endless and amazing. To this day i'm still learning more about that record and why i love it.
And so began my interest in noise. This falls by the wayside occasionally - as devastatingly enthralling as it can be, i still like my pop tunes. But when i'm in the mood, music that's experimental and challenging and engaging can be utterly inspirational. And my interest begins with this one band.
Here's some clips of synapse-melting sounds that i probably wouldn't have chanced upon without Sonic Youth:
Sun Ra
Glen Branca
Thursday 22 January 2009
Wednesday 21 January 2009
I ripped your heart out from your chest and relaced it with a grenade blast
New Year's resolutions are a curious business. Mine, of course, is to update this blog more often. But it's always interesting, in January, to see just how many people strengthen their determination to get fit, and equally, how many of them realise they've wasted the cost of gym membership by February.
The gym is, of course, where good looks and whatever you have resembling dignity go out of the window. It's a wholly necessary evil - that metabolism don't work like it did when i was 16 - but it would be nice if we didn't have to look so pathetic. NO-ONE escapes this in the gym. It is no place for sexual aesthetes. Skintight clothing reveals bulging, wobbling flab in all its revolting glory, while gelatinous fat breasts bob up and down in perfect rhythmic time with the crosstrainer; ripples of flesh ebbing and flowing up and down the body. Insert your own 'and that's just the fellas'-style joke here (although it lamentably IS the ostensibly stronger sex to whom I refer here). I don't look at the girls. I can't. For one thing I have a long-term girlfriend, and for another, I'd be too embarrassed even if I did. The gym reduces me to a panting, crimson-faced heap of sweat - not the best look for the alpha male on the prowl, i shouldn't imagine. The gym robs us all of our cool, assuming we have any to begin with.
In fact, the only reason we go is so that, after hiding all signs that we do work out at all, we hope that we might eventually look ever-so-slightly better. And therefore cooler. So the fact that we have to wait innumerable aeons for any given machine, every January, only seems to prolong the agonies we put ourselves through in order to attain that distant goal. Fuel is then added to this fire with the knowledge that the ones causing this extra waiting time will have lost interest, patience or will power by February, thus inferring that our agony is trivial. I mean, Christ, I've not kept up my New Year's resolution very well, but at leat it's not fucking up anyone else's regular routine.
More self-important OTT rants about the gym to follow - until I at least start to look like Dolph Lundgren, at any rate.
The gym is, of course, where good looks and whatever you have resembling dignity go out of the window. It's a wholly necessary evil - that metabolism don't work like it did when i was 16 - but it would be nice if we didn't have to look so pathetic. NO-ONE escapes this in the gym. It is no place for sexual aesthetes. Skintight clothing reveals bulging, wobbling flab in all its revolting glory, while gelatinous fat breasts bob up and down in perfect rhythmic time with the crosstrainer; ripples of flesh ebbing and flowing up and down the body. Insert your own 'and that's just the fellas'-style joke here (although it lamentably IS the ostensibly stronger sex to whom I refer here). I don't look at the girls. I can't. For one thing I have a long-term girlfriend, and for another, I'd be too embarrassed even if I did. The gym reduces me to a panting, crimson-faced heap of sweat - not the best look for the alpha male on the prowl, i shouldn't imagine. The gym robs us all of our cool, assuming we have any to begin with.
In fact, the only reason we go is so that, after hiding all signs that we do work out at all, we hope that we might eventually look ever-so-slightly better. And therefore cooler. So the fact that we have to wait innumerable aeons for any given machine, every January, only seems to prolong the agonies we put ourselves through in order to attain that distant goal. Fuel is then added to this fire with the knowledge that the ones causing this extra waiting time will have lost interest, patience or will power by February, thus inferring that our agony is trivial. I mean, Christ, I've not kept up my New Year's resolution very well, but at leat it's not fucking up anyone else's regular routine.
More self-important OTT rants about the gym to follow - until I at least start to look like Dolph Lundgren, at any rate.
***
My last post was all about how great new music is. Such a shame that I've followed this up with a week spent listening almost exclusively to the Gin Blossoms and Redd Kross. Ah well. I'll get out of the 90s one day.
Tuesday 13 January 2009
Getting older makes it harder to remember...
Ok, so this hasn't quite gone to plan. New Year's Resolution! More frequent blogging! Starting now!
For the last few years I've felt increasingly like I don't get new music. I flatter myself that I'm an enthusiastic consumer of pop music, both underground and overground. In fact, I've always thought that I devour, rather than merely consume it. I suppose this is symptomatic of (or perhaps a contributory factor to) my ridiculously short attention span. The positive aspect of this is that I have a pretty decent record collection, if I do say so myself, and one of the most enjoyable things a guy can do, in my opinion, is research a band thoroughly - what they used to sound like, whether the members used to be in other bands and what they used to sound like, who their influences are and how much I'm gonna dig on them... great fun. Geeky, yeh, but what the hell.
So it came as a surprise to me a few years ago when I started to lose interest in contemporary stuff - there was just nothing exciting me. It was worrying. I mean, what do you do when your passion suddenly seems to hold no future for you? I suspect it kicked in with the arrival of what my friend Phil refers to as 'Top Man indie' - it was the first time music had made me feel too old. Without wanting to get all melodramatic, in your mid-20s that's a bizarre place to be.
Luckily, after a surge of xmas presents, vouchers and things, the end of 2008 helped me realise that there's still plenty of stuff out there that I love. It's not all over for me - thank fuck! Hooray for needless fretting! So with this in mind, I present my top records of 2008! Enjoy!
10. Hayman, Watkins, Trout & Lee - S/T
Imagine a record destined to make zero impact upon the public consciousness. This was surely it. Ex-Hefner frontman and current indie legend Darren Hayman teamed up with The Wave Pictures' David Tattersall to create a gorgeous piece of magical London bluegrass. But whatever your thoughts on the premise or its commercial viability, there were few records released this year that exuded such joy. Indiepop approaches to country music (and its various subgenres) have rarely scaled the heights of this album.
9. Times New Viking - Rip It Off
I'm fairly sure that, for a lot of people, TNV represent little more than an untamed, untalented and ultimately unlistenable indie rock trio. But from the first time i heard them (cruising Myspace for acts to watch at ATP) to the 3 times i got to see them in 2008, they've been sheer rock'n'roll excitement throughout. Yeh, it's sloppy and chaotic, and on record you have to search even harder for the bubblegum delight underneath the fuzz, but dammit, it's FUN! Like trying to catch early Pavement demos on a cheap long wave radio whilst pouring cherryade and sherbert into your mouth.
8. Mudhoney - The Lucky Ones
Earlier this year, John Robb reviewed this record for Plan B. Looking back on grunge, the Gold Blade ringmaster suggested that Mark Arm's garage rock veterans left the best and most important legacy. I'm not sure how far I agree with that statement, although I'd be pretty hard pushed to choose between Touch Me I'm Sick and Lounge Act if asked. In any case, this fine effort showed there's still bite behind their snappy bark; a sterling collection of hip-shakers and floor-stompers that added a delicious groove to their heady blues broth.
7. Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago
One of two artists what I managed to catch at this year's ATP and immediately write off. Note to self: when searching for party bands whilst horribly drunk in a badly-ventilated indoor festival, do not announce to all and sundry that an acoustic act is bad simply because they did not make you want to jump up and down. For Emma... is beautiful; constantly teetering on the edge of histrionic but somehow retaining its footing. Lush falsettos and subtle electronics only add to the sweetness on display.
6. Lil Wayne - Tha Carter III
If ever a hip-hop record had me sold from the concept alone, it was this album's sterling single Dr Carter, in which Wayne plays a consultant for rappers suffering from problems with their flow. It's brilliant, hilarious and addictive, not to mention big-headed. Although possibly not as big-headed as the self-aggrandising couplet of the year: "Take away the basketball, the football team / Now all we got is me to represent New Orleans" (from Tie My Hands). What, just you? Brilliant.
5. Death Cab For Cutie - Narrow Stairs
There was a lot of talk this year about Death Cab reinventing themselves, and when needlesly-long single I Will Possess Your Heart crashed into the 6music playlist, I couldn't help but feel like it may have been for the worse. Luckily, I needn't have worried. It's classic Death Cab really, and even the five minute Pink Floydian intro to the single makes perfect sense within the context of the full record's natural flow. If anything has changed, it's Ben Gibbard's new 'character study' approach to lyrics, which perfectly offset sunny collegiate indie-pop like No Sunlight; surely one of the best tracks to grace a DCFC record thus far.
4. Fleet Foxes - S/T
Sub Pop appears to have been on the hunt for a new Shins ever since New Slang's appearance on the Garden State soundtrack converted innumerable movie viewers into hardcore fans of literate, vaguely psychedelic, folk-tinged indiepop. Fleet Foxes are the latest pretenders to the Albequerque heroes' throne, and an album crammed with Beach Boys harmonies and 'baroque folk jams' can only encourage more listeners to jump on their heavily-crowded bandwagon. From rural American whimsy to pure sun-drenched pop, this is a record to be cherished; where each track drifts into the next with the gentle, natural glide of twigs in a stream.
3. Vivian Girls - S/T
Of all the hearts that Brooklyn's Vivian Girls have won, it's interesting that the resurgent C86/twee/indiepop/whatever scene seems to be claiming the trio as their own. This may be due to the reverb-heavy, borderline-shoegazey production of their album, or certain sonic similarities to the likes of the Shop Assistants. Either way, it does not take much probing to note that the girls are, to all intents and purposes, a pop-punk band along similar lines to Bratmobile, Onion Flavored Rings, Party Garbage or Cub, and this gloriously messy debut showcases every possible reason to love them in just over 20 minutes. What's not to devote oneself to utterly?
2. Deerhunter - Microcastle
Brandon Cox's Deerhunter are the aforementioned other band that I managed to cast aside in derision at ATP Vs Pitchfork. After months of reading about how amazing they supposedly are, I gave in and spent some vouchers on their latest opus. And good lord, it's magnificent. I'm quite, quite happy to withdraw any previous comments i may have made about this band. From its richly atmospheric production to its intricately-arranged, crack-level-addiction tunesmithery, Microcastle is an endlessly enjoyable record that leaves me breathless for more.
1. The Hold Steady - Stay Positive
I love this band. It's been years since I've even come close to liking a contemporary band as much as I adore The Hold Steady. And this fourth effort only served to illustrate why. It's not so much a reinvention of their formula - Paul Westerberg and Bob Mould fighting over the mic amidst rippling Springsteen pianos and arena-sized choruses - as a refinement of it. Opening and closing with two of the finest songs of their career (Constructive Summer and Slapped Actress) doesn't detract from the stuff inbetween, as the band play around with new wave synths, stadium balladry and doom-laden psych-blues in what is surely their most complete album yet. It helps that Craig Finn is one of the finest lyricists in rock today, and the multi-faceted narrative he weaves throughout Stay Positive is utterly compelling. If they continue at this stunning rate of pace, lord only knows how immense their next record will be.
So there you go. My records of the year for 2008. New music's ace actually, isn't it?
For the last few years I've felt increasingly like I don't get new music. I flatter myself that I'm an enthusiastic consumer of pop music, both underground and overground. In fact, I've always thought that I devour, rather than merely consume it. I suppose this is symptomatic of (or perhaps a contributory factor to) my ridiculously short attention span. The positive aspect of this is that I have a pretty decent record collection, if I do say so myself, and one of the most enjoyable things a guy can do, in my opinion, is research a band thoroughly - what they used to sound like, whether the members used to be in other bands and what they used to sound like, who their influences are and how much I'm gonna dig on them... great fun. Geeky, yeh, but what the hell.
So it came as a surprise to me a few years ago when I started to lose interest in contemporary stuff - there was just nothing exciting me. It was worrying. I mean, what do you do when your passion suddenly seems to hold no future for you? I suspect it kicked in with the arrival of what my friend Phil refers to as 'Top Man indie' - it was the first time music had made me feel too old. Without wanting to get all melodramatic, in your mid-20s that's a bizarre place to be.
Luckily, after a surge of xmas presents, vouchers and things, the end of 2008 helped me realise that there's still plenty of stuff out there that I love. It's not all over for me - thank fuck! Hooray for needless fretting! So with this in mind, I present my top records of 2008! Enjoy!
10. Hayman, Watkins, Trout & Lee - S/T
Imagine a record destined to make zero impact upon the public consciousness. This was surely it. Ex-Hefner frontman and current indie legend Darren Hayman teamed up with The Wave Pictures' David Tattersall to create a gorgeous piece of magical London bluegrass. But whatever your thoughts on the premise or its commercial viability, there were few records released this year that exuded such joy. Indiepop approaches to country music (and its various subgenres) have rarely scaled the heights of this album.
9. Times New Viking - Rip It Off
I'm fairly sure that, for a lot of people, TNV represent little more than an untamed, untalented and ultimately unlistenable indie rock trio. But from the first time i heard them (cruising Myspace for acts to watch at ATP) to the 3 times i got to see them in 2008, they've been sheer rock'n'roll excitement throughout. Yeh, it's sloppy and chaotic, and on record you have to search even harder for the bubblegum delight underneath the fuzz, but dammit, it's FUN! Like trying to catch early Pavement demos on a cheap long wave radio whilst pouring cherryade and sherbert into your mouth.
8. Mudhoney - The Lucky Ones
Earlier this year, John Robb reviewed this record for Plan B. Looking back on grunge, the Gold Blade ringmaster suggested that Mark Arm's garage rock veterans left the best and most important legacy. I'm not sure how far I agree with that statement, although I'd be pretty hard pushed to choose between Touch Me I'm Sick and Lounge Act if asked. In any case, this fine effort showed there's still bite behind their snappy bark; a sterling collection of hip-shakers and floor-stompers that added a delicious groove to their heady blues broth.
7. Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago
One of two artists what I managed to catch at this year's ATP and immediately write off. Note to self: when searching for party bands whilst horribly drunk in a badly-ventilated indoor festival, do not announce to all and sundry that an acoustic act is bad simply because they did not make you want to jump up and down. For Emma... is beautiful; constantly teetering on the edge of histrionic but somehow retaining its footing. Lush falsettos and subtle electronics only add to the sweetness on display.
6. Lil Wayne - Tha Carter III
If ever a hip-hop record had me sold from the concept alone, it was this album's sterling single Dr Carter, in which Wayne plays a consultant for rappers suffering from problems with their flow. It's brilliant, hilarious and addictive, not to mention big-headed. Although possibly not as big-headed as the self-aggrandising couplet of the year: "Take away the basketball, the football team / Now all we got is me to represent New Orleans" (from Tie My Hands). What, just you? Brilliant.
5. Death Cab For Cutie - Narrow Stairs
There was a lot of talk this year about Death Cab reinventing themselves, and when needlesly-long single I Will Possess Your Heart crashed into the 6music playlist, I couldn't help but feel like it may have been for the worse. Luckily, I needn't have worried. It's classic Death Cab really, and even the five minute Pink Floydian intro to the single makes perfect sense within the context of the full record's natural flow. If anything has changed, it's Ben Gibbard's new 'character study' approach to lyrics, which perfectly offset sunny collegiate indie-pop like No Sunlight; surely one of the best tracks to grace a DCFC record thus far.
4. Fleet Foxes - S/T
Sub Pop appears to have been on the hunt for a new Shins ever since New Slang's appearance on the Garden State soundtrack converted innumerable movie viewers into hardcore fans of literate, vaguely psychedelic, folk-tinged indiepop. Fleet Foxes are the latest pretenders to the Albequerque heroes' throne, and an album crammed with Beach Boys harmonies and 'baroque folk jams' can only encourage more listeners to jump on their heavily-crowded bandwagon. From rural American whimsy to pure sun-drenched pop, this is a record to be cherished; where each track drifts into the next with the gentle, natural glide of twigs in a stream.
3. Vivian Girls - S/T
Of all the hearts that Brooklyn's Vivian Girls have won, it's interesting that the resurgent C86/twee/indiepop/whatever scene seems to be claiming the trio as their own. This may be due to the reverb-heavy, borderline-shoegazey production of their album, or certain sonic similarities to the likes of the Shop Assistants. Either way, it does not take much probing to note that the girls are, to all intents and purposes, a pop-punk band along similar lines to Bratmobile, Onion Flavored Rings, Party Garbage or Cub, and this gloriously messy debut showcases every possible reason to love them in just over 20 minutes. What's not to devote oneself to utterly?
2. Deerhunter - Microcastle
Brandon Cox's Deerhunter are the aforementioned other band that I managed to cast aside in derision at ATP Vs Pitchfork. After months of reading about how amazing they supposedly are, I gave in and spent some vouchers on their latest opus. And good lord, it's magnificent. I'm quite, quite happy to withdraw any previous comments i may have made about this band. From its richly atmospheric production to its intricately-arranged, crack-level-addiction tunesmithery, Microcastle is an endlessly enjoyable record that leaves me breathless for more.
1. The Hold Steady - Stay Positive
I love this band. It's been years since I've even come close to liking a contemporary band as much as I adore The Hold Steady. And this fourth effort only served to illustrate why. It's not so much a reinvention of their formula - Paul Westerberg and Bob Mould fighting over the mic amidst rippling Springsteen pianos and arena-sized choruses - as a refinement of it. Opening and closing with two of the finest songs of their career (Constructive Summer and Slapped Actress) doesn't detract from the stuff inbetween, as the band play around with new wave synths, stadium balladry and doom-laden psych-blues in what is surely their most complete album yet. It helps that Craig Finn is one of the finest lyricists in rock today, and the multi-faceted narrative he weaves throughout Stay Positive is utterly compelling. If they continue at this stunning rate of pace, lord only knows how immense their next record will be.
So there you go. My records of the year for 2008. New music's ace actually, isn't it?
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