I hear you hum an unfamiliar song, thought maybe you would come along.
So it’s been a while since I last wrote here. I partly blame WordPress for having a shitty password reset service that only works 50% of the time, apparently; partly myself for being lazy and forgetting what my password was. But anyway, it’s time for me to write about the Weakerthans. As I said at the end of the last post, we’re going to pick up with Anchorless. Fast-forward a couple of months to this February or so, to one of those nights where I was looking up lyrics for no specific reason, and one of the songs I examined was Anchorless. In the comments section, I noticed someone saying that they preferred the Weakerthans’ version, and my interest was piqued. Not quite enough that I went to seek them out immediately, but I made a mental note that there was a band out there who had done a version of Anchorless, and the name of this band was the Weakerthans.
Luckily, before I had a chance to forget, I befriended Matt of Names of Foreign Towns the Homemade Slides not-exactly-fame. I noticed two things fairly early on: he had near-impeccable musical taste, and he was also a fan of this ‘Weakerthans’ band. I decided to download their first album, Fallow. And that’s where all this began.
An unwrapped gift: on Propagandhi.
So I was going to write a review of Reconstruction Site, because it’s fantastic, but then I realised I wouldn’t be able to do that without it turning it into a post about how great the Weakerthans are. So I decided to backtrack, and begin from the beginning. And the beginning of the story is with Propagandhi. About this time one month and one year ago, I got Less Talk, More Rock for my brother’s birthday. I hadn’t heard them before, but he gave me a list of albums he wanted, and I approved of the bandname, making them my first choice. Off to My Local Independent Record Store I headed, and lo and behold, for a princely sum of £14.99, was the album. (My Local Independent Record Store happens to have a very good but very expensive punk section. Rarely would I consider 25 minutes worth £15, but Propagandhi are a very special punk rock band, as will become clear.)
(disclaimer: this post will be more personal than I usually intend them to be. Some situations demand it.)
In which I buckle up and write about the Flaming Lips.
You know something? I’m horribly lazy. I’ve been meaning to write this for god-knows-how-long and I’ve consistently failed. No more! I delayed writing about Rock Ness because it seemed such a daunting task. It was a long weekend of overload: on silly hats, Vitamin Water (hey, they were handing it out free), bright colours, mud, chocolate digestives and most of all, music. So I’ll break it up. While I do intend to draw a few cartoons on the Rock Ness Festival Experience, they’re not what I’m going to be writing about (music blog! music blog!), and I’ll break things up, writing other posts between them. I probably won’t cover everything, but the major points are The Flaming Lips, Alabama 3, Biffy Clyro and Placebo. Maybe the Super Furry Animals but I’m not sure how much that’d contradict the positive outlook of this blog (just to clarify, I do still love them!) Anyway, without further ado: The Flaming Lips.
~*imaginary cut which would be there if Opera was co-operating goes here*~
It is difficult to describe the Flaming Lips’ stagecraft. The first thing you must understand, to get even the slightest idea of what it was like, is that the backing dancers were dressed as Teletubbies, and they arrived, as far as I can tell, by helicopter. There was also a terrifying gigantic butterfly that swayed from side to side in an unsettling fashion through every song it was on stage for.
Oh, and Wayne Coyne was riding the back of a werewolf two songs in.
And the whole streamers/confetti/giant balloons/Wayne Coyne in a hamster ball thing.
Except, surreal as all of this seemed, there was the sense that all of this is perfectly normal and to be expected in Flaming Lips Land. Not to the extent it feels mundane, though – before playing Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots pt One, Coyne recounted hearing a crowd singing it back to him with a genuine sense of emotion and warmth towards his fans.
You could say their commitment to playing old material that most of the audience (including myself) weren’t going to be familiar with along with the popular songs was part of that; She Don’t Use Jelly definitely felt like a moment for fans, but one that the band’s heart was in. What comes across incredibly strongly in Coyne’s stage banter, the exuberant stageshows and the music that is distinctly theirs is a knowledge that what they do makes people happy, and it makes them happy too. And that’s something that feels incredibly beautiful. At one point, he tells us that music doesn’t change the world, people who smile and make others smile do, optimists, people with hope and people who do good things. When he said that, I hoped that he knew he was all of these things.
With the brilliant finale of Do You Realize??, he gave an introduction stating how amazing it was to know that there’d be people in the crowd feeling genuinely upset, and that their music could make a difference to that. So I guess they do know. I’m glad they know. I’m glad I was there. I’m glad their music is there.
A Real Post About Antony. Really.
Okay so I procrastinated and I’ve listened to really quite a bit of music since then (it’s not my fault! I’m addicted!) so obviously the whole thing isn’t as clear in my mind, and I’m sorry about that. On the other hand, it does mean that (hopefully) I’ll keep it brief and this won’t turn into a massive ramble, spilling on for miles, like the majority of my posts seem to. In any case if I’d written it straight after I’d probably have been whining about feelings and if I’d written it in the past few days I’d have whined about illness so really this is for the best. Or I’m lazy.
I lied.
Because this is my music blog, not anything about my personal life, I’m not going into why but I don’t even feel like writing today, however glorious Antony was. (And he really was, it was an incredible night). I promise to write an album review too once I get over myself, probably of Reconstruction Site by the Weakerthans, but for today I will leave you with posts about things two of my friends have done, because I have some truly brilliant friends out there.
Firstly, there’s Kat. Kat is, like me, a writer. She is also my oldest online friend, the only one I’ve met up with in real life, and one of my favourite people in the world. I’ll try not to get too misty-eyed, but she’s brilliantly funny, caring, sensible and mature but also absurd when the situation requires it (and believe me, there are few situations that don’t benefit from Kat’s absurdity.) She also keeps a blog, puportedly to write about writing and literature, but it’s a little more wide-ranging. I suppose she writes about things that inspire her, and one of those things is music. Yesterday she wrote a beautiful post about her favourite band, Foo Fighters. Regardless of how you feel about the band, it basically touches on everything that makes music so important, and that is a damned hard thing to do.
And secondly, there’s Matt, who I have known for a fraction of the time I have Kat, but managed to hit it off with exceptionally well. Once again, he’s very funny and has a good worldview – like all of the people I find myself looking up to, he knows the importance of being happy. He also has excellent taste in music, which is a pretty good thing considering that he’s a musician. He writes, sings and plays various instruments in a band called Names of Foreign Towns, who have just put up a couple of demo recordings on Myspazz. It seems a pretty sweet endeavor so far and I wish him and his friends luck in it.
ok i will write a real post tomorrow
antony is amazing and his voice is magical and i needed that
also he is so fucking adorable he’s nearly as cuddle-worthy as theo.
You still sing your heart out, cause you know those words by heart now
I cannot say that Defiance, Ohio at Alington House was the greatest show I have been to in my life, because it was so unlike anything else I’ve seen that I can’t compare it. I can say with total conviction, though, that it was one of the most amazing nights I have had. Read the rest of this entry »
Posts of music yet to come (sorry for the pun)
EXCITING BLOG POSTS YOU MAY SEE IN THE NEARISH FUTURE:
- I keep meaning to review Maximo Park’s latest album, Quicken the Heart. I’ll just say I don’t use this blog for whining about music I don’t like, if you’re wondering.
- There may be plans to experiment with an audio post. You know, where I play songs then talk about them. Like they did on that old-fashioned radio thing back in the day. I’m not sure where this stands copyright-wise but quite honestly as long as I only have three readers that’ll be okay; once it balloons to ten I’ll be having run-ins with the RIAA.
- Will be seeing Defiance, Ohio live on the 23rd May, should be something to write home about. Or write to the internet about. Which is sort of where I live.
- Rock Ness, mid-June. Once again, the Flaming Lips, Super Furry Animals and King Blues will definitely be worth a post.
- And yes, I do plan to get hold of a copy of Supporting Caste someday.
So yeah, I’m still alive. Ironically for those of you who get the reference, doing science is exactly what’s keeping me from just posting bits and pieces: modular exams coming up, revision flying around. Still, Biology’s down and I’m on holiday for a bit, so hopefully I’ll get one or two of these written in the next fortnight.
In the meantime, listen to Wouldn’t it be Nice by the Beach Boys, and People by the Andrew Jackson Jihad.
- Hele
Straight from the streets of Leeds, from the underground
So sorry for the delay in updates, I was hoping to get some sort of huge SKA AND WHY IT IS WONDERFUL (or alternatively, TOMAS KALNOKY AND WHY HE IS WONDERFUL, both will probably turn up at some point) post up over the Easter holidays but was too consumed by Coursework Guilt (for those of you who are unfamiliar with this, it’s basically a feeling of “Why are you blogging for fun when there is school work that you must do and have failed to complete?”) to manage it.
I’m still not quite organised enough to manage either of these, so as a sort of “I aten’t dead” to you all, I present a shortish post about a fantastic Leeds-based band: the Dauntless Elite.
The Dauntless Elite are fairly obscure, so I’ll try and give you some background. Amongst other things, they are the first act signed to the wonderful label Plan-It X Records, home of Ghost Mice, Andrew Jackson Jihad, (once upon a time) Against Me! and Defiance, Ohio amongst many other good things. I realise that the list of artists I have just provided may seem slightly misleading, as all of the ones I mentioned fall under the glorious umbrella of folk punk, or “the best genre ever.” The Dauntless Elite may not be folk punk, but they are a damned fine band. They play fast exciting raw-edged punk with lots of palm-muting and energy seeping out of the seams of their songs, and I am quite determined to see them live someday.
The experience of listening to Graft was a multi-layered one. The first time, I heard fairly standard, loud punk music and nothing particularly special. Now, maybe it was the fact that I knew there had to be more to an album with song titles like “Gina U R a Bastard Liar,” “I am Ninja… My Life is Lonely and Difficult” and “I Can Move if Funk is Happening,” but I had come upon one of those albums, an album that you want to listen to again just to check that you didn’t miss anything – and hey, I had! Second time round I realised that they have a great ear for (collective ear? they have great ears for?) pop-punk riffs, which are something I have a great weakness for. Much in the same way that you work through the primer stages of a videogame towards the more challenging, fleshy main section, once you’re done realising how catchy and hummable their songs are, one can begin to appreciate the lyrics, more and more with each listen.
The lyrics are delivered in fascinatingly growly harmonies just rough enough to give the impression that these are exciting people who are here to take you to a new place, but close enough to singing that it doesn’t harm the ears. I would say it’s a vocal style I quite approve of, possibly because I’m compensating for not being able to manage a manly burr myself what with being female, or possibly just because when someone sings with passion and conviction, I can generally get into it. Being able to use the voice like that, regardless of how imperfect it sounds, is one of the most powerful things about music, and even more so when the voice is being used to deliver messages as worthwhile as the lyrics on this album. Probably my favourite line on the album is the one that bookends I am Ninja, My Life is Lonely and Difficult:
“We move in inward-facing circles, singing inbred worn-out songs/Til we lose all sign of context with our backs turned for so long.”
Look, try and argue with that one. There’s other moments of genius, too; the refrain of opener Running Battle “Time waits for no-one, you better keep on – ohhh, time is the enemy” is difficult to listen to while walking without breaking into a, uhm, run and pretending you’re in the opening credits of the indie movie of your life; Our Own Legends, Shilling and You’re a Funny Guy… I’ll Kill You Last! are other favourites.
Here. Check out their music. Now.
Everything that happens will happen today.
I have seen David Byrne play live twice. The first time, I was about eight or nine, and it was not long before Grown Backwards was released. He sang Au Fond du Temple Saint, amongst other things, and I got a bootleg CD from one of the other audience members for being little, cute and enthusiastic. Last night, at the Sage, I was one of quite a few teenagers – although all of us appeared to have arrived with our parents. I think he just has that sort of appeal.
The show I was at most recently was a retrospective of his work with Brian Eno, who, needless to say, is a Legendary Producer, and produced three of Talking Heads’ albums – Remain in Light, More Songs about Buildings and Food, and Fear of Music. All of these albums are good. He also collaborated with Byrne on two albums – 1981′s My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, which was hugely influential for being one of the first major uses of sampling and being brilliant, and 2008′s Everything that Happens Will Happen Today. A little of my views on that one later. Back to the show.
Byrne and his troupe – one drumkit, one set of African drums; three soul singers; a synth/keyboardist; a bassist/singer; and three dancers – were all dressed entirely in white, at first making me think of nurses, then cricketers, then just that it was the best way to make them stand out. His hair, as white as his clothing, sticks up in a sort of cockatiel quiff that seemed perfectly suited to him as he made his awkward introduction to us. He was witty and likeable, didn’t talk for too long and managed to appear nervous, despite surely having done this sort of thing thousands of times: exactly the picture of him that has made him the poster boy for geeky kids everywhere.
He opened with Strange Overtones (which is without a doubt the strongest track from Everything that Happens…), a beautiful, warm, rendition of a beautiful, warm song. Byrne and his band are all insanely talented musicians, and it helps that the Sage is a venue designed to make musicians sound as good as possible, whatever sort of music they may be playing. Okay, I haven’t seen a crust punk show advertised there, but the acoustics are fine-tuned specially before each performance, and it pays off.
Heaven seemed to fill the air in the hall; the bass vibrations managed that horribly cliche-sounding feeling that they are actually shaking your heart. But it still sounded like Heaven, from the Talking Heads album Fear of Music. The most exciting parts of the performance, for me (though sadly few in number) were the songs from My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. I always think of My Life… as a distant, somewhat unsettling album, to be listened to through headphones on winter nights. It’s also quite definitely an electronic music album, but the only aspect of that genre visible on the stage was the synth. Brian Eno is a producer who can transform musicians – so how would the songs sound deproduced? Heart-stopping. For Help Me Somebody, Byrne bellowed the samples (taken from a radio preacher) himself while the backing musicians provided a fantastic funk-disco soundtrack for the words. This performance was not for curling up on a winter night, it was for getting up and dancing.
Sadly, no-one actually did until the ending of Crosseyed and Painless, where a few audience members couldn’t stay seated, and were requested to sit again. This was followed by what was probably my favourite performance of the night, Once in a Lifetime. I remember that when he sang it all those years ago, he put on silly voices and such for the “same as it ever was” parts. Here, there was nothing but sincerity, and a smooth, constant flow to the song, a real feeling of “letting the water hold me down”. For this, about half the audience rose, and it was followed with Life During Wartime, for which just about everyone did. The performance probably got this reaction because it was closer to the Stop Making Sense rendition than the original on Fear of Music. It is one of the best songs to dance to.
In the end, brilliantly, three encores were gotten out of the concert. Along with Heaven, Take Me to the River was the moment when the feeling that the music filled every single space in the hall; Air was one of the other songs that underwent a massive funk transformation; the performers returned for Burning Down the House with added tutu for no apparent reason other than that it was awesome, and kept them on to close with Everything that Happpens.
Now, Everything that Happens. I have to say that after hearing such a stripped-down rendition of it, the album version was a little… disappointing. (I only picked up my copy of Everything that Happens Will Happen Today at the concert) Actually, not so much Everything that Happens, now that I listen to it again. One Fine Day was the one that, live, was just beautiful, raw and clean. The recorded version sounds… it sounds produced. It feels really odd suggesting that Brian Eno could actually detract from the quality of a recording, especially when I think of Brian Eno + David Byrne as a combination that works like peanut butter + chocolate or such. (As you may not be familiar with my eating habits, I view this combination as a great thing.) I certainly wouldn’t suggest that the live Help Me Somebody was superior to the My Life… version, because it obviously wouldn’t have been as exciting without the contrast, and because My Life in the Bush of Ghosts is probably in my top 100 albums of all time. Bear in mind that I listen to a lot of music, so that’s pretty high-ranking.
But, I don’t know about Everything that Happens Will Happen Today. Having downloaded Strange Overtones from the album site, and having been blown away by it, with One Fine Day and Everything That Happens being so great live… I was hoping for something more. It’s not a bad album, of course, but Brian Eno and David Byrne’s names together make me instantly think “Innovation! Invention! Breaking the boundaries of contemporary music!”
This album doesn’t seem to be doing that. It seems to be David Byrne and Brian Eno, just doing their thing. Considering the energy and excitement that was in the air in Hall One last night, it would be profoundly depressing to think that they’ve decided they’re now too old to invent; I would rather think of it as two old friends getting together, and enjoying themselves doing what they do best.
Same as it ever was.
