2020: Compilations, Reissues, & Boxes

Timely as ever, I just want to belatedly offer a few more thoughts on some of the releases added to the everythingsgonegreen music vaults across 2020. When it came to compilations, reissues, and box sets, it was a fairly heavyweight line-up.

Starting with perhaps the heaviest of them all, reputation-wise at least. Digging Deep: Subterranea, which offers a barely anticipated but very welcome 30-track Robert Plant solo career overview. One that sees the more obvious “hits” like ‘Big Log’, ‘Ship of Fools’, and ‘In The Mood’ sitting snuggly alongside a whole bunch of far less obvious stuff. And as any Plant fan will tell you, it’s the latter category where the real gems can be found. Digging Deep: Subterranea collects work from all but a couple of Plant’s post-Zepp solo releases across nearly four decades. The only notable absentee being work from the superb Alison Krauss collaborative effort, although Jimmy Page himself would surely argue that particular point. There’s three new (or previously unreleased) tracks to be found, the best of which is the Patty Griffin duet, ‘Too Much Alike’. More than anything, the album highlights what an exceptional career Plant has had. And still has.

In December 2020 the pop world found itself mourning all over again with the realisation that a whole 40 years had (or have) passed since John Lennon was so needlessly gunned down outside his NYC apartment. Naturally, without wishing to get too cynical about it all, a lot of fuss was centred around a new collection of Lennon post-Beatles work in the form of Gimme Some Truth. At 36 tracks in its deluxe form, it’s a balanced mix of his (and Yoko’s) best known material, alongside the not so well-kent stuff. I grabbed it, because I wanted to play the game, I like a bit of John, and of course I needed a long overdue companion set for my 2007 remastered version of Shaved Fish (1975). Apparently.

A far less-hyped late-in-the-year compilation release from a band that rarely put a foot wrong during its pomp of roughly a decade ago, was The Kills’ Little Bastards. Which is everything it promises to be on the tin. Rough, ready, raw and rudimentary rock n roll, across 20 tunes, the vast majority of which are hugely improved from their original form thanks to 2020 remastering. Highly recommended, and all that.

Speaking of rough and rudimentary, the long lost and I guess, very overdue, obligatory White Stripes Greatest Hits set was sitting in my collection before I even knew I needed it. Which I very much didn’t. I’m a Jack White fan, I don’t mind owning that … what else can I say? I’m also a bit of a Meg fan, if I’m being completely vulnerable and honest about everything. You’ll know all of these so-called greatest hits, or more shamefully, you might be someone who knows only ‘Seven Nation Army’. If you’re the latter, don’t sleep on this one, the White Stripes’ Greatest Hits album is here for you, not me.

Which brings me to a couple of compilations that aren’t really compilations because they appeal as being a little more niche or specific than that broad brush stroke might allow. New forms of old work:

Foals Collected Reworks Volumes 1, 2, & 3. More than four hours’ worth of the Oxford band’s finest moments reconfigured for what appears to be a rather large heavily lit dancefloor. Although it’s nowhere near as dubious as that may sound. Volume 1 is actually rather good, with serious producer-types, the likes of Hot Chip, Alex Metric, Purple Disco Machine, and Solomun, for starters, going mental on a career-spanning collection of Foals’ best stuff. In fact, Solomun’s edit of ‘Late Night’ is the stand-out track across the entire three volumes, which can all be picked up separately - as opposed to the full set I managed to snare. It is however a three volume set that falls slight victim to the law of diminishing returns. I felt a little jaded by the end. Volume 1 is probably quite enough techno-fried Foals, thank you very much, despite the best efforts of Jono Ma Jagwar Ma, Lindstrom, Mount Kimbie, and Trophy Wife on the second and third instalments. File this one away under: good to have, but not essential.

A little more essential for me, and another release that was both new material and yet not quite new material, was another intriguing instalment in David Bowie’s Changes series. This one - ChangesNowBowie - being specific to a radio special the great man recorded back in 1996. Featuring tunes like ‘The Man Who Sold The World’, ‘Aladdin Sane’, and Tin Machine’s ‘Shopping For Girls’. How much Bowie is too much Bowie? … wash your mouth out with soap. Reviewed here.

Reissues and deluxe sets: yet more heavyweight carry-on.

I’m probably preaching to the converted here, but New Order’s Power Corruption and Lies deluxe reissue, and Joy Division’s 40th anniversary edition of Closer proved irresistible additions, even though I’m sure I already have both albums in their original form somewhere. Maybe even on cassette. The key thing worth noting about each work is the way these albums made a mockery of the age-old “difficult second album” cliché. Of the two, I think the New Order release was the best value for money, if indeed deluxe releases are ever really value for money, with an Extras disc featuring those pesky non-album singles and previously unreleased versions of many of the album cuts.

Another landmark album celebrating its 40th anniversary in 2020 with a multiple disc deluxe edition, and yet another release I didn’t really need but couldn’t resist, was Ultravox’s Vienna, the highlight of which was the “Rarities” disc featuring early versions (‘Sleepwalk’), soundcheck versions, the single version of ‘Vienna’, the 12-inch version of ‘All Stood Still’, and a bunch of live takes (at St Albans City Hall and The Lyceum) from the year of its release. Some of this stuff is incredible to listen to again, and a timely reminder of just how special Ultravox was during its pomp.

Ditto Depeche Mode, of course, and somewhat by accident, more by crook than hook, I managed to pick up a copy of the Violator 12-inch singles box set. Multiple versions of ‘Personal Jesus’, ‘Enjoy The Silence’, ‘Policy of Truth’, and ‘World In My Eyes’, plus all of the associated b-sides … 29 tracks all up, including a dizzying 15 and a half minute ‘The Quad: Final Mix’ version of ‘Enjoy The Silence’ (phew).

An eight-volume deluxe set of Prince’s Sign of The Times, anyone? Probably unnecessary, but wow … the quality of the material he didn’t release when he was alive is all the testimony needed, if ever needed, for indisputable proof of Prince’s sheer genius. Or his commitment to his art. Or his perfectionist stance on releasing music. I found more than a few hidden gems modestly tucked away amongst the 90-plus (count em) tracks included on this deluxe set of an album I’d always previously (wrongly) regarded as being slightly inferior to Parade. I'm quite sure Parade didn’t have this many quality cast-asides, but that may yet remain to be seen. Just wow.

Last, and probably least, to be fair, a Bandcamp name-your-price I picked up was Pitch Black’s Electronomicon Live, which was essentially a prelude to the first ever vinyl release of the duo’s fantastic second album, Electronomicon, which celebrated its 20th birthday in 2020. As difficult as it might be today to process the fact that the relatively DJ/club-friendly original album had never previously been the beneficiary of a vinyl release, the live version - with tracks sourced from hours and hours of DAT tapes/live recordings from the era - stood up pretty well I thought.

Right, we’re nearly there, albeit weeks after the fact, I’ve got just one more 2020 retrospective blogpost to come, one that looks at the best EPs I picked up during the year.

Album Review: Jack White - Boarding House Reach (2018)

It happens at least once a week in my house. That one meal time when all of the leftover food from the previous few days is cobbled together to create a makeshift dinner. Usually on a Sunday, but there’s no set night really. We call it “hodge podge” night. And those words - hodge podge - are all I can think of when I listen to Jack White’s latest solo album, Boarding House Reach.

In the past, I’ve been a staunch defender of White and his ability to excavate elements of the past to produce something new, but even I’m left scratching my head with this one. Critics argue that White is now simply going through the motions, trading on the phenomenal success of the first couple of White Stripes albums. With Boarding House Reach being the faux-experimental mish-mash it undoubtedly is, Jack White appears determined to merely add weight to that criticism.

Of course, there’s an obvious attempt to present a facade of progression and creativity, and sure there’s the odd glimpse of White doing what he used to do so well, but beyond the album opener, ‘Connected By Love’, there’s not much here to get excited about. And I use the word “excited” liberally, with all the generosity I can muster. You know you’re in trouble when you cite one of the most thoroughly mediocre curtain-raisers of White's entire career as the album’s solitary highlight.

The rest is just noise. Literally. Muffled noise, even. Half formed ideas - see ‘Abulia and Akrasia’ and the shambolic ‘Hypermisophoniac’ for the worst examples - that don’t really go anywhere. Bits and bobs that White in his pomp, or in any other guise other than that of “solo artist”, would surely have been forced to shelf. 

It all feels very self-indulgent, highly complacent, and it lacks any of the spark, energy, or grunt - as copyist or derivative as it may have been - that once made Jack White’s music such a vital proposition in the first place. 

I remain a fan of his earlier work, naturally, as a paid up member of the Jack White fan club, but Boarding House Reach really is a monumental disappointment to these ears. Even within the context of the steadily diminishing returns White’s solo career has offered up over the past few years. 

Boarding House Reach is the musical equivalent of hodge podge night, and when you’ve got house full of notoriously picky eaters, woe behold the chef who serves up anything as half baked as this. Pass the gravy.

Albums of 2014

Okay, time for the annual EGG awards, aka “the Eggs” … or more simply, a list of your blogger’s favourite (read: most listened to) albums of 2014 …

10. Todd Terje – It's Album Time

It might well have been album time, but it was also about time. Norwegian producer Todd Terje has been relatively prolific as a remixer for other artists over the past few years, but this time it was finally all about him and he came up with a cracker. It's Album Time was an absorbing mix of tracks that had been out for a while in one form or another ('Strandbar', 'Inspector Norse') and newer previously unreleased material. It was also an almost perfect hybrid of state-of-the-art technology and old school dance vibes, with disco rhythms grinding hard up against softcore techno beats – all set to Terje's trademark electronic pulse. Bryan Ferry made a cameo appearance and gave us one of the album's surprise gems with his take on Robert Palmer's 'Johnny And Mary'. The album may have been a long time coming, but it was well worth the wait.

 

9. Al Dobson Jr – Sounds from the Village Volume 1

To be honest I probably wouldn't have known too much about this one if an old friend (connected with the artist and label) hadn't sent me a Bandcamp download code. Although some of the shorter sketches barely qualify as tunes, when consumed as a whole, the album was never anything less than a warm and seriously infectious listening experience. My original review can be found here.

8. Jack White – Lazeretto

Another year, another Jack White album, and while he appears to have overstayed his welcome in some quarters, I remain a fan. In fact I've got a theory about why I love Jack so much: for years I cursed that genre loosely defined as "classic rock" – it was just music for those who relied only on FM radio for their daily music fix and it wasn’t for me. In any form. Ever. Then along came Jack White – unconventional (White Stripes), raw (Dead Weather), challenging (Raconteurs), and farking loud (everything). A basket to place all those classic rock eggs I'd been denying myself (but had subconsciously, secretly even, started to appreciate). And so now that I'm at an age where the guilt has been removed from the notion of "guilty pleasures", I can just fully indulge in the music of Jack White without fear. Because White is nothing if not old school classic rock, and Lazeretto is merely the latest quite brilliant manifestation of that. Even though I know it's all been done before, there's no overkill here, and this shit still sounds relatively fresh to me.

 

7. Ha the Unclear – Bacterium, Look At Your Motor Go

Dunedin and/or sometime Auckland-based band Ha the Unclear is one of the few bands I missed at the Galatos showcase gig back in September … more fool me. And although I only picked up a copy of this album in early December, it's been given a good old fashioned thrashing across the past month – so much so I just had to include it as one of the most instantly loved albums of my year. To call the album “quirky” and quintessential Kiwi pop feels like an injustice to a work that’s so much more than that, yet for me those (admittedly lazy) descriptions somehow best nail the most immediate appeal of Bacterium, Look At Your Motor Go. I think vocalist Michael Cathro’s strong local accent only enhances that sense of Nu Zild-ness, because for the most part the album’s lyrical themes are universal, if somewhat odd and peculiar, and not at all exclusive to this part of the world – from religious ritual (‘Apostate’) to old age and regret (‘85’). But it’s when the perspective is expanded to include that of a coffee table reflecting upon its relationship with its owner (on ‘Secret Lives of Furniture’) that the narrative truly astounds … all set against a series of triumphant jangly/harmony pop tunes.

 

6. The Nomad – 7

7 was one of those albums that just kept getting better and better each time I heard it. Which was often. I got the chance to interview and profile Daimon Schwalger (aka The Nomad) for NZ Musician mag and I think what separates him from the vast majority of electronic producers is that he bears none of the stereotypical dance music snobbery you often tend to encounter with many DJ/producers. He is, in fact, a music lover first and foremost. It's something that shines through on all of his work, never more so than on 7, an album rich with the sort of cross-genre pollination we've come to expect from him. Co-conspirators on 7 included Jamaican up-and-comer Dexta Malawi, Melbourne-based grime merchant MC Lotek, talented newcomer (vocalist) Christina Roberts, Israel Starr, and past collaborators like Caroline Agostini, King Kapisi, and Oakley Grenell. Plus others. A line-up that pretty much speaks for itself. The album release party at Wellington's Boat Cafe in September – part of a NZ-wide tour – turned out to be one of the best nights out I had all year.

5. Tackhead – For The Love of Money

Some will just as likely write this one off as little more than just another covers album from a band struggling for any degree of 2014 relevance. I pity those people, for they know not what they miss. My original review is here.

4. Radikal Guru – Subconscious

Radikal Guru is a longtime everythingsgonegreen favourite and Subconscious was a more than worthy (late 2013) bass heavy follow-up to The Rootsteppa album, which topped this list in 2011. My review is here.

3. Sun Kil Moon – Benji  

It's a simple enough formula: man, guitar, stripped back folk rock, and a lyric sheet full of compelling lyrics. Mix deathly themes with no little amount of personal tragedy, and you get the wholly unique yet nonetheless unsettling Benji. Original review here.

2. The War On Drugs – Lost In The Dream

I'm sure I must have played Lost In The Dream more times than any other album during 2014. It probably helped that its smooth lines and nostalgia-friendly grooves were so workplace compliant ... my original review is here.

1. Robert Plant (& The Sensational Space Shifters) – Lullaby and The Ceaseless Roar

Harking back to that classic rock thing again, it turns out my favourite album of the year was made by a 66-year-old man whose music I could barely bring myself to listen to 30 years ago. But as much as I avoided Led Zep (where possible) during my teenage years, I've also grown to love the solo career of its key protagonist. Across the past decade particularly – from 2005's Mighty Rearranger to 2010's Band of Joy, and all collaborations in between – the music of Robert Plant has been nothing less than a revelation. And as much as that has given me a different and far more positive perspective on the band that made his name, Plant's latest work bears little resemblance to that of Zep. In fact, given the eclectic nature of Lullaby, it's practically impossible to burden it with any label – there's fiery Celtic rock, soft acoustic tones, some bluegrass, and a smattering of unrepentant edgy Americana. The critical element to all of it though is Plant's unmistakable vocal, which just keeps getting better with age. Another great body of work to add to an already incomparable legacy.

 

Honourable mentions: Celt Islam's Generation Bass, Brian Eno and Karl Hyde's High Life, First Aid Kit's Stay Gold, Jakob's Sines, and Vorn's More Songs About Girls and the Apocalypse.

Best reissue of 2014: it is impossible to go past the deluxe version of Nightclubbing, the 1981 Grace Jones classic. Aside from the original full length album you get five additional mixes of 'Pull Up To The Bumper' – including a particularly early version produced under the working title of 'Peanut Butter', which was credited to the Compass Point Allstars as a nod to the incredible studio line-up who worked alongside Jones at the legendary Bahamas-based studio. There are also alternative mixes for key album tracks like 'Use Me' and 'Demolition Man', but the other truly interesting artefact here is the cover of Gary Numan’s 'Me, I Disconnect From You'.

 

Best compilation of 2014: given the attention to detail I paid when diligently reviewing all four volumes of Hyperdub’s 10 series, I can’t really go past that little lot when it comes to ‘various artists’-type releases. With 101 tracks over the course of nearly seven hours it was as comprehensive as these types of retrospectives can be. A great collection from a seminal bass music label.

2014 was a year I finally got to listen to more Kiwi music. Something I’ve wanted to do for many a year, without really following through. Although The Nomad album shaded the Ha the Unclear release for my New Zealand album of the year, I could just as easily have selected a handful of local releases for the blog's ten albums of the year. That includes work from Jakob, Vorn, and Darren Watson.

Other thoughts: despite criticism elsewhere and a general shrug regarding the Pink Floyd finale, I thought the bulk of The Endless River represented a fairly decent album of previously shelved material. I also thought regular blog favourites like The Raveonettes and The Pains of Being Pure At Heart made good albums in 2014, even though neither scaled the heights of previous work. Thom Yorke’s latest solo effort also had its moments.

Flops of the year: U2’s spam effort, whatever the hell it was called. The Sinead O’Connor album was very ordinary and something of a generic plod-rock release with few redeeming features (and I say that as a Sinead fan). And naturally enough the Smashing Pumpkins (aka Billy Corgan) threw up another very disappointing effort, one that landed itself in the recycling bin after just one listen.

So there it is, the obligatory annual list posted for another year … here’s Grace doing Gary Numan:

 

 

 

 

 

Albums of 2012 # 5: Jack White – Blunderbuss

You always know exactly what you’re going to get with Jack White. That’s one of the things I like most about him. He isn’t everyone’s cup of tea though, and over the past few years I’ve been sensing a subtle backlash against White and his retro-styling.

It seems that from the time the White Stripes formally announced a split in the wake of White’s wanderings – both “solo” and within new projects – his whole relationship with the music press somehow has changed. The man once heralded as a genius, and the most important artist of the first decade of the new millennium (by at least one major UK-based music mag), is now, according to some, nothing less than a fake and an imposter. I’m really not sure what has changed? Jack certainly hasn’t.

 

White’s default modus operandi has always been to mine the past for all it’s worth. We’ve seen it with the Stripes’ version of edgy crossover blues-rock, with the Raconteurs’ take on classic rock, and we’ve seen it most recently with the Dead Weather “side-project”, a raw variation on each of the above. And he does it again on Blunderbuss, his 2012 offering, a solo affair … (well, all of the White Stripes albums were essentially solo affairs too, but let’s just go with it for now).

 

From the opening flurry of the antique keyboard on the album opener ‘Missing Pieces’ right on through to the fading harmonies at the tail end of the closer ‘Take Me With You When You Go’, we’re transported into White’s world. A world where pre-owned can be presented as new without the aid of software. A world where rock rules, and if the guitar isn’t already actually king yet, then that’s only because the terrific wordsmithery has long since laid claim to any metaphorical throne.

White’s storytelling takes us on a series of short, sharp journeys to places we’d otherwise tend to forget about. Dark places. Places that more often than not feature eccentric people, outsiders, lost souls, and fringe dwellers … sometimes even Jack in the third person. All the while providing us with musical recall of where it all stems from, reminders of the various strands that have fed this thing we call rock music. Jack White is nothing if not a past master of achieving that.

And naturally, we also get the now regulation excursion into country – slide guitar, fiddle – on several songs. At 13 tracks over the course of 41 minutes, there’s a nice balance about the album, and it succeeds in feeling both familiar and fresh.

 

 

The album’s best track, ‘Love Interruption’, is a part confessional founded primarily on an electric piano, an acoustic guitar, and a barely repressed sense of anger. Whatever else “love” means, Jack just wants to feel it with brutal intensity. None of this safe, comfort zone stuff for him. A plea for pain, lust, hurt, revenge … and no little amount of murderous intent. You know – all of the usual things one normally associates with love (!) … and in turn, the track represents the very essence of everything there is to love about Jack White, all wrapped up in a two-and-a-half minute burst.

Other highlights include ‘Missing Pieces’, ‘Sixteen Saltines’, ‘Freedom At 21’, and ‘Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy’ … but there are no duds on Blunderbuss, just variety, and a few timely reminders of a far less complicated world.