2020: Close, But No Cigar

I realise I’m a bit late to be casting a beady eye all the way back to 2020, but given the retro-centric nature of everythingsgonegreen, any blogpost covering work from this century might very well be considered an unexpected bonus. Being timely, current, and relevant has never really been this blog’s thing. If you’re here, you probably already know that.

I’ve already looked at my ten “most played” or favourite new album purchases of 2020 (here), but I also want to share a few thoughts on those that made the “close, but no cigar” list … albums I picked up, enjoyed, but for whatever reason didn’t quite make the final “albums of 2020” list.

I’ll start with a couple of homegrown efforts that could easily have made the cut for that list alongside the four local albums that did. Two albums that sat well beyond the mainstream Kiwi pop saturation point that gave us commercial behemoths like Six60, Benee, and L.A.B. as key local industry flagbearers in 2020. As so often, the best local stuff tended to fly well beneath the radar of fans of the aforementioned. Which is a shame … and probably not really a shame at all.

Darren Watson’s Getting Sober For the End of the World came very close to making the cut, but it just came down to the fact that I drew the line at a strict ten. I completely get why a few of the more learned local scribes were quite happy to label the album as his best ever, and it was yet another top-notch effort from the country’s foremost exponent of the blues and roots music.

Tauranga-Auckland pop-rock outfit The Leers returned in 2020 with an (album-length) EP called The Only Way Out Is In, which was recorded in Los Angeles in late 2019, before being given legs ahead of this year’s summer festival circuit. It revealed a softer, more chart-friendly (and crucially, festival-ready) sound, and I was pretty hooked on it for a few weeks late on in the year.

 Elsewhere, Bob Dylan’s Rough and Rowdy Ways got a lot of love, and the old fella keeps coming up with new ways to remain relevant. I’ve always been a little bit hot and cold on Dylan; I absolutely love a handful of Dylan albums, but given that he’s released dozens upon dozens of albums across a 60-year timeframe, loving a “handful” probably doesn’t equate to fully paid-up fandom. Rough and Rowdy Ways was chock full of Dylan signature moments, but mostly it appealed for the way its seemingly effortless stream-of-consciousness narrative kept finding raw nerves to twist and tweak.

Only slightly younger than Bob, the ever reliable and always relatable Paul Weller came up with yet another top set in the form of On Sunset. Weller is a living legend, there’s no two ways about it, and On Sunset contained little slices of all of the many styles that Weller has thrown at us across the past four decades (and more). Rock, soul, pastoral folk, plus rhythm and blues. A genuine hybrid. Weller shows no sign of slowing down whatsoever.

I’m a big alt-80s nut. That goes without saying. Yet I somehow managed to miss everything that Dutch darkwave/goth merchants Clan of Xymox released during what might be called their peak years. I put that right last year when I picked up a copy of the 2020 album Spider On The Wall, which turned out to be a revelation, and the album got a lot of my ear-time during the year. I’ll have a dig back through the band’s extensive back catalogue to see what else I’ve missed.

Kruder and Dorfmeister’s 1995 was one of my rare CD purchases during the year. Brand new, yet somewhat ancient in that it was a collection of tunes that only ever previously saw the light of day on an (unreleased/pre-release) white label some 25 years ago. Discarded and only recently rediscovered by a duo not exactly renowned for being especially prolific since their mid-to-late 90s heyday. Whilst it doesn’t in any way scale the heights of K&D’s best stuff like Sessions (1998) - not much does, after all - I reckon there’s enough on 1995 to satisfy fans, with snippets of that trademark plush/warm production aesthetic they’ll all be very familiar with. It just seemed so appropriate that I got this one on CD, via mail order.

 When I compiled the blog’s albums of 2019 list, I bemoaned the fact that Angel Olsen’s All Mirrors was a relatively late arrival on my radar and I perhaps hadn’t given it enough attention. Oddly enough, I got that chance in 2020 when a heavily reconfigured version was released under the guise of Whole New Mess. Effectively a stripped-back variation on tracks originally found on All Mirrors, I downloaded a copy of Whole New Mess and it once again sat there in my “must listen to” folder for far too long before I got to it. But I heard enough to know it was exceptional, and I’ll be returning to Olsen again soon. I think.

As ever, Polish dub artist Radikal Guru released his latest album, Beyond The Borders, near the end of the year. He’s got form for this sort of thing - by my reckoning this is the fourth time he’s released stuff right on the cusp of the calendar change. That hasn’t stopped three of those albums featuring on my year-end “best of” lists in the past. Not this time though. I picked up Beyond The Borders far too late to give it sufficient digestion time so it missed the cut. I may (or may not) give it a full review in the coming weeks. I’m a big fan of his stuff and I’ve listened to Beyond The Borders a fair bit already in 2021.

The Heaven and Earth Association album 4849:1 was perhaps the most pleasant surprise of 2020. In a year full of too many unpleasant surprises. I wrote a little bit about it here.

There were only a handful more album purchases, none of them especially memorable, and all reviewed on the blog; Moby’s All Visible Objects, Tame Impala’s The Slow Rush, and Pet Shop Boys’ Hotspot.

But wait … we’re not out of the 2020 woods quite just yet. I’ve got a bunch of compilations and reissues, plus a bumper set of EPs, that I haven’t ticked off yet.

Album Review: Moby - All Visible Objects (2020)

I don’t quite know what to make of Moby’s latest album, All Visible Objects. It’s been touted in some sections of the music press (or corners of the internet) as a somewhat rusty return to his rave/techno roots, but I’m not sure anyone really needs that right now.

I really enjoyed the introspective nature - on the surface, at least - of his 2018 album, Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt, but this one leaves me feeling bemused. And frustrated.

That’s no real surprise. I’ve always had a rather fractious relationship with Moby’s music (as documented here). He’s difficult to warm to as an individual, with multiple faces or hard-to-embrace personas being presented to the wider public over the past 30 years. 

What that actually means when it comes to analysing Moby’s music rather depends on your own level of investment in the man and his art. Mine’s been minimal, so I’ll try to focus on the music.

All Visible Objects is the proverbial mixed bag of an album, with a few highs, more lows, a selection of guest vocalists, and the odd (very odd) cover - in this case, a soulless take on Roxy Music’s ‘My Only Love’, featuring regular Moby vocal collaborator Mindy Jones. A version that strips away the despair and emotional poignancy of Bryan Ferry’s original, and pads it out with lush layers of faux-rave, almost euphoric, synth fluff.

Slightly more endearing is the (co-write) collaboration with Linton Kwesi Johnson on ‘Refuge’, which, although quite repetitive, resonates with me more than anything else found on the album. But that might just be because I’m a fan of LKJ’s trademark vocal delivery, and not because it’s an especially strong Moby adaptation.

The rest? Well, there’s some truth to those return-to-rave claims, not least on the lead single, ‘Power is Taken’, which is another collaboration, this time with D. H. Peligro (of Dead Kennedys), and quite possibly the worst thing here due to its unimaginative high bpm techno, its inauthentic anti-“the man” right-on pretentiousness, and the annoying refrain ... “those who hate oppression, must fight against the oppressor. Power is not shared, power is taken” … 

Sure, Moby has as much right as anyone else to be angry at the world, but for whatever reason (pick one), it just rings a little hollow coming from him. In much the same way it does when a mansion-dwelling millionaire hip hop mogul raps about life in the projects and living on the edge (man). We’ve been here before.

And while are there are other big room hands-in-the-air moments that hark back to the halcyon days of ‘Go’ and ‘Move’ without exactly replicating those (now dated) highs, much of this stuff - particularly across the second half of the album - would be equally at home on any of his more ambient works, or even as extended interludes on a commercial blockbuster like Play. 

‘Too Much Change’, one of a handful of tracks featuring primary guest vocalist Apollo Jane, is decent enough, but at something close to ten minutes in length, it might have been improved with a little more judicious editing.

So it turns out that my latest liaison with the music of Moby is once again going to be a short-lived affair. It turns out Everything Was Beautiful was yet another false dawn, and the frustration I’ve endured with a lot of his work over the years resumes on All Visible Objects.

Where Everything Was Beautiful seemingly showcased a flawed middle aged man slowly coming to terms with an ever changing world, All Visible Objects is more about a misguided one stubbornly determined to recreate former glories. And not doing it particularly well.

I was tempted to close with a forlorn attempt at clever wordplay around “one man” and his obsession with “knobs”, but given that all sales proceeds from All Visible Objects are being donated to various charities, I should probably cut Moby some slack, and just say that this one is for resilient fans only.

Albums of 2018

It’s that time again. Time to revisit some of the albums that made the biggest impression on everythingsgonegreen across 2018. The obligatory year-end “best of”, or in the case of this blog, those albums that got the most ear-time on my pod throughout the year. There’ll have been better albums released in 2018 than the ones listed below, for sure, no doubt, but if they didn’t make their way into my collection then they won’t have made the cut here. These are simply the “new” albums I own copies of and listened to the most, no more, no less: 

10. Cat Power - Wanderer 

I’ve endured an on-again off-again relationship with Chan Marshall’s music over the years, so I couldn’t really call myself anything other than a fair weather fan. But I thought Wanderer was a welcome return to form for an artist who hasn’t had her problems to seek over the past decade or so. It was certainly one of the more unexpected additions to my collection, and an album that kept growing in stature with each and every listen. Wanderer felt like a very deliberate return to the basics which served Marshall so well when she first emerged a couple of decades ago: strong songwriting, subtle hooks, simple structure and arrangements ... all geared to place emphasis firmly back on that sultry, seductive vocal. It was a very consistent set, with no real stand-out tracks, apart from the Lana Del Rey collaboration on ‘Woman’, which might just be something close to a career highpoint. A mature piece of work that possibly flew under the radar of all but her most committed fans. It didn’t get a full review on the blog but the above should suffice.

9. Darren Watson - Too Many Millionaires 

I can’t pretend to be all that knowledgeable about the blues, but I know enough to appreciate the fact that Wellington’s own Darren Watson is a serious talent. Too Many Millionaires is merely the latest in a long line of releases to prove that point. My review can be found here. 

8. Dub Syndicate - Displaced Masters 

I try to grab at least one release from the On-U Sound catalogue every year. I’m a man of routine and habit, and some 30-year-old habits can be hard to shake. Plus, I know what I like, and I like what I know. This one is a late 2017 release, of sorts, but as I was quite late getting to it, I’ll include it here regardless. Great for On-U devotees, but it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. My review can be found here. 

7. The Breeders - All Nerve 

I wasn’t too impressed with All Nerve after my first couple of listens. In fact, I recall messaging a friend much earlier this year to say “the new Breeders is just like the old Breeders, but not in a good way” ... as though I was expecting some kind of revelatory experience. Labouring with the belief that somehow the band would show signs of progression, or somehow offer something different from the tried and trusted MO used on EVERY other Breeders album. But with false expectation being the mother of all disappointment, I then decided to just relax and enjoy the album for what it was. And it turned out to be another genuine grower. Familiarity became anything but contempt, just feelings of warmth, comfort, and a much fuller appreciation of a damned fine rock n roll album. An uncomplicated rock n roll album. A stop-start fast-slow hybrid of fuzz, surf, and power pop guitar. Everything I could realistically expect from the return of the band’s Last Splash-era peak line-up. So yes, not a lot different from the old Breeders, but still a bloody good album. Another one that didn’t get a full review on the blog.

6. Marlon Williams - Make Way For Love 

It wasn’t so much a breakthrough year for Marlon Williams because he’d already achieved that much, but he did win best solo artist and album of the year at the NZ Music Awards, plus a highly coveted Silver Scroll. My review for Make Way For Love is here. 

5. The Cure - Torn Down 

Another year drifts by without any new music from the still active and touring Robert Smith. But there was this, Torn Down, a Record Store Day special. A fresh set of Smith remixes of old material, and a belated sister release for 1990’s Mixed Up. That will have to do. Truth be told, I loved it, and my review is here. A review, incidentally, that was the blog’s most read/hit “new” post of 2018. 

4. Thievery Corporation - Treasures From The Temple 

From all accounts - not least the word from the duo itself - Treasures From The Temple is supposed to be a “companion” release to last year’s largely overlooked Thievery Corporation album, Temple of I and I. Mostly because it’s a collection of remixes and leftover work from the same recording sessions. But it’s also a whole lot more than that rather underwhelming description would suggest. It’s an immaculately produced, eclectic mix of reggae, dub, hip hop, synthpop, and electronica that defies any real definitive genre categorisation. You could argue that the music of Rob Garza and Eric Hilton (plus assorted associates) hasn’t really evolved much since the release of the duo’s 1996 downtempo classic (debut) Sounds From The Thievery Hi-Fi, yet the formula applied back then still works today. The best of the plethora of guest vocalists who feature include rapper Mr Lif, reggae dude Notch, and the divine Racquel Jones. One small reservation: the glossy production and sheen on a couple of roots reggae tracks somewhat detracts from the authenticity of those vibes. It may have worked better if they’d left some grit or dirt in there. No full review on the blog for this one either.

3. Moby - Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurt 

This one is a bit deep and cynical in places and I’m not really sure why I’ve grown to love it as much as I have. Is it because of those traits, or in spite of them? Whatever, if it wasn’t exactly a comeback album for Moby (who remains prolific), it certainly heralded the return of his music to my own cynical and frequently insular world. Reviewed here. 

2. The Beths - Future Me Hates Me 

2018 could hardly have gone better for The Beths; extensive touring, a well received debut album, and massive amounts of barely anticipated global exposure. My review of the superb Future Me Hates Me is here. 

1. Antipole - Perspectives 

Perspectives tapped into my often suppressed love of all things dark and dramatic. It’s an album of remixes, drawing its source material from Antipole’s late 2017 release, Northern Flux (reviewed here). I didn’t manage to give Perspectives a review on the blog because it arrived in early November and I’ve spent the past six weeks or so fully absorbing it. Fully immersing myself in it. I think my familiarity with Northern Flux - which is effectively a stripped back version - only enhanced my enjoyment of Perspectives, with the remix album adding depth and texture to a set of tunes I had already fallen in love with. There’s a fair amount of additional percussion and synth thrown into the mix on a lot of these tracks, layers of the stuff even. And more generally, there’s an extra edge to the production not always evident on the original album. Although Northern Flux comes with its own standalone charms, of course. Perspectives includes remix work from the likes of Ash Code, Delphine Coma, Kill Shelter, Warsaw Pact, and Reconverb, to name just a few. I knew nothing of Antipole at the start of 2018, but discovering the band, and then digging further into the Unknown Pleasures label - and associated acts - opened up a whole new world. And yes, I realise it’s probably a little unusual to have a remix release as my album of the year, but I make up my own rules as I go along here in the padded cell that doubles as the everythingsgonegreen office. 

Close but no funny cigar: 

Through the first half of the year Rhye’s Blood got a fair old workout, but ultimately the chilled out take on soft-core disco was perhaps a little too lightweight to stay the distance. 

Suede’s The Blue Hour was yet another solid effort from one of my favourite bands of the past 25 years. Suede rarely falter, and this album was yet another quality addition to the band’s extensive discography. 

First Aid Kit’s Ruins held some appeal, before I decided it was all a little too similar to Stay Gold, the band’s last full-length release from 2014. I remain a big fan of the Söderberg sisters and their sweet border-defying harmonies. 

Local band Armchair Insomniacs caught me by surprise with their eclectic self-titled debut, which was highly polished and crammed full of great hooks. Where the hell have they been hiding? (Reviewed here) 

Also flying a little under the radar - for all but committed club fiends - was the globetrotting, sometime Auckland-based DJ Frank Booker, who raided his own archives to digitally release two disco-drenched mini-albums, Sleazy Beats and the Untracked Collection. Both on Bandcamp, both superb. Sleazy Beats qualifies as my short album or EP of the year.

There were plenty of reissues, retrospectives, and deluxe releases to catch my eye (and ear) across 2018, my own favourite addition being a toss up between Yazoo’s box set Four Pieces (the duo’s two albums plus demos and remixes), and Bronski Beat’s Age of Consent deluxe. The Yazoo release probably edges it on account of the volume and variety it offered. 

Compilation of the year - the inspired and long overdue late 2017 collection of New Zealand disco-era classics and not-so-classics, Heed The Call, reviewed here. 

Gig of the year? I didn’t get along to as many gigs as usual this year, but with a focus on quality over quantity I can’t really say I missed anything - or anyone - I really wanted to see. For my money, for the night, the vibe, and the company, it’s hard to go past Pitch Black’s sonic dub-driven extravaganza at San Fran in Wellington in mid-March. Reviewed here. 

In terms of cinema-going experiences, unlike last year, I can’t really hand-on-heart say there were any music-related films that held much appeal for me in 2018. And I include Bohemian Rhapsody and A Star Is Born in that assessment. But of the films I did see and enjoy, Martin McDonagh’s Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri was probably the pick of an otherwise quite limited bunch. And although it was a late 2017 release, and I didn’t catch it in a theatre, I thought Paul McGuigan’s Film Stars Don’t Die In Liverpool had easily the best soundtrack of all the films I viewed during the year. 

Right. That’s that, annual stocktake completed. Happy festive things and thanks for reading in 2018 …

Album Review: Moby - Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt (2018)

A few years back, I couldn’t have cared less if I never heard another Moby album, ever. The uber producer’s 1999 effort, Play, pretty much destroyed any ongoing interest I had in the artist. Thanks mainly to the ridiculous level of exposure it received. For a few years around the turn of the millennium, Play was everywhere, and I became heartily sick of hearing it, or snippets of it even, especially as the musical backdrop for copious amounts of corporate advertising (in particular, see ‘Porcelain’). 

I’d been a fan of Moby’s early Nineties output, with club bangers like ‘Go’ and ‘Move’ being my introduction to his work. But Play took Moby into another stratosphere entirely with its crossover mix of ambient pop and cod-blues. And since Play, I’ve somehow managed to avoid everything else Moby has subsequently released. Until a few months back, that is, when in a moment of apparent weakness, I found myself downloading a gratis copy of his new album, Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt.

Of all the spontaneous decisions I’ve made in 2018 - mostly questionable ones - that has been one of my better choices, because Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt turned out to be a genuine revelation. It’s a long way removed from Play, and almost 20 years on, I can’t help but wonder what I might have missed in the interim. After all, Play was studio album number five, while Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt checks in as album number 15. That’s a whole lot of potential artistic development, right there. I’m also aware that post-Play albums like 18 (2002), and Hotel (2005), were massive sellers, so they can’t really have been all that bad. But only if you embrace the notion that units sold is an accurate representation of the quality on offer, which isn’t always a straightforward given. 

It could be that I just needed a lengthy break from Moby in order to appreciate his work again. Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt has made my return far more painless than I initially thought it might be. 

The album is refreshing in ways I never expected it would be: fragile, melancholic, haunting, and dripping with the existential angst we’re all bound to experience at some point along this journey. It’s jammed full of self-deprecation and insecurity. It feels a bit personal, like we’re privy to a “confession” in places … particularly when confronted by Moby’s own voice, be it spoken word or singing, as opposed to the multitude of guest vocalists who also feature (see Mindy Jones, Apollo Jane, Julie Mintz, plus others). 

It examines the state of the world through the eyes/voice of a middle-aged man who really isn’t all that happy with what he’s seeing in 2018 (or more accurately, 2016 and 2017 when the album was conceived). But there’s also some acceptance there. A resignation that we’ve little choice but to live with, and absorb or consume, the fear and disillusionment our infinite information/communication networks lumber us with every minute of every day. 

So, the lyrics are designed to provoke and challenge, but they’re cushioned, for the most part, by an almost unfashionable electronica backdrop, something of a throwback to trip hop’s best days. Moby’s own production is superb - it was recorded at home - and I think the word “lush” probably best describes the wider feel of the album, which clocks in at just under an hour. 

Highlights: ‘Mere Anarchy’, ‘Welcome To Hard Times’, ‘The Middle Is Gone’, and saving the best until last, ‘A Dark Cloud Is Coming’.