Showing posts with label Nick Cave. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nick Cave. Show all posts

Saturday, December 21, 2019

Albums of 2019

Annual list time. If you’ve been here with me before you’ll know that my choices for the blog’s albums of the year are strictly limited to the new albums I’ve got my sticky mitts on during the year. Spotify doesn’t count, just purchased copies in whatever format. Which tends to rule out the dozens or hundreds of really good releases you’ll see elsewhere on year-end lists. I guess I could call it ‘best additions to my collection’, etc, or the stuff I listened to most, but it hardly matters, you know the drill.

10. Chromatics - Closer to Grey

I’m not sure whether Closer to Grey is the fifth, sixth, or seventh Chromatics album. Or something else entirely. It rather depends on whether or not you count re-released drumless versions of past work, and whether or not you count the apparently completed but still unreleased Dear Tommy, a much hyped, long shelved, full-length project from a couple of years back. Such are the mercurial and mysterious ways of arch-perfectionist and key Chromatic, Johnny Jewel. But whatever album number it is, Closer to Grey is the first Chromatics outing I’ve picked up since 2012’s excellent Kill For Love album, and the most important thing in all of this is that it ticks all the right boxes for long suffering fans. Or, at least, this fan. Those boxes include Chromatics’ commitment to a dreamy shoegaze aesthetic, Jewel’s devotion to creating widescreen cinematic imagery, and a much loved predilection for oddball covers - in the case of Closer to Grey, that means a reimagining of tunes like ‘The Sound of Silence’ (Simon & Garfunkel) and ‘On The Wall’ (The Jesus and Mary Chain). I do have a few reservations over the durability of Ruth Radelet’s voice across multiple listens. On one hand her vocal is light of touch and weightless, while on the other, it has a tendency to come across as a little thin and a tad too bland. What works well in isolation, on individual tracks, can be less engaging over the full course of the album’s journey. But that’s a minor quibble, and Closer to Grey comfortably makes the cut for this year’s 10.

9. Beat Rhythm Fashion - Tenterhook

2019 gave us the chance to reconsider the too often overlooked legacy of early 80s Wellington post-punkers BRF. There was a short national tour and, most unexpectedly, a brand new album. Just like those autumn gigs, Tenterhook felt intimate, personal, and heartfelt. A very welcome return, even if it does turn out to be a temporary one. R.I.P. Dan Birch. My full review is here.


Speaking of the scarcely anticipated, I really didn’t expect this one to feature on any year-end list when I downloaded it early in the year. Curiosity led me to it, mainly because I’d seen a few Bobbie Gentry TV “specials” when I was growing up, and I knew a little bit about Mercury Rev already. As the title informs us, it’s Mercury Rev’s take on the 1968 Bobbie Gentry release The Delta Sweete, with an alt-country meets modern day Americana crossover spin. Guest vocalists include luminaries such as Nora Jones, Hope Sandoval, Vashti Bunyan, Phoebe Bridgers, Beth Orton, and Lucinda Williams. Although Gentry’s best known track, the chart-topping ‘Ode To Billie Joe’ didn’t actually feature on the 1968 original, Mercury Rev include it here, and Williams’ interpretation of it is one of the best (of many) versions I’ve heard. On the surface, Bobbie Gentry’s The Delta Sweete Revisited was an easy listening affair, and it got a lot of workplace airtime as a result, especially across the first six months of 2019, but scratch below that surface a little and you’ll find Gentry’s themes were often anything but easy listening. A revelation.

7. The Specials - Encore

More Tales of the Unexpected. Anyone noticing a theme here? New work from a band that first emerged some 40 years ago. A blend of just about everything you could possibly want from the three remaining Specials (plus friends) ... ska, funk, straight pop, social commentary, and political activism. My full review is here.

6. Pitch Black - Third Light

I’m not sure what more I can say about my love for Pitch Black. I’ve written so much about the duo’s music already - on this blog and for NZ Musician (here) - that it almost feels indulgent and a touch fanatical to offer more words. Given the lengthy gap between 2007’s excellent Rude Mechanicals and 2016’s equally great Filtered Senses, official album number six (excluding a plethora of fantastic remix releases), Third Light, arrived a lot earlier than many of us had anticipated. All of the usual Pitch Black touchstones are present and accounted for; dubby techno drenched in atmospheric electronic wizardry and bassy production genius, but if there is a slight departure on Third Light it’s that this work feels a little more chilled out and ambient than any past release. ‘One Ton Skank’, ‘Artificial Intolerance’, ‘A Doubtful Sound’, and the title track itself are all up there with the best work Pitch Black has done.

5. Minuit Machine - Infrarouge

Infrarogue ticked so many boxes for me … a little bit retro, a little bit synthpop, and large helpings of the melodramatic dark stuff. Something close to perfect, and I couldn’t get enough of and Helene De Thoury and Amandine Stioui’s unique take on the complexities of modern life. My full review is here.

4. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Ghosteen

Nick Cave has always skirted around the periphery of a lot of music styles and genres I’ve been into over the years, but I’ve never really considered myself a fan. I liked the obvious Murder Ballads-era stuff, and I’ve enjoyed some of his other work over the years, but he’s never really been high on my radar whenever new music has been released. I picked up a copy of Ghosteen just because it was there, and I’d read a lot of mostly positive social media commentary about it. To say that death is the primary theme of Ghosteen would be an understatement, and that’s hardly surprising given Cave’s personal journey and the still obviously raw tragic loss of a teenage son. Words about Jesus, ghosts, the king of rock n roll, stars, horses, and (even) the three bears have never before sounded so vital and fresh. And what a terrific voice that man has … “I’m just waiting now for my time to come, I’m just waiting now for my place in the sun, and I’m just waiting now, for peace to come ...”

3. Antipole - Radial Glare

Antipole topped this list in 2018 with Perspectives, and Karl Morten Dahl returned this year with yet another fine post-punk album in the form of Radial Glare. The retro-fuelled music of Antipole is intoxicating in every way and there’s not a single moment on Radial Glare where I’m not fully engaged. Quite possibly the best thing to come out of Norway since a youthful baby-faced assassin Ole Gunnar Solskjaer started terrifying Premier League defences and banging them in for fun at Manchester United in the mid to late 90s. My full review is here.

2. The National - I Am Easy To Find

I think I must have read or heard just about every criticism possible over the past half dozen years or so when it comes to The National ... you know how it goes: “boring, bland, colour by numbers, white-bread boomer rock” that trades on the reputation of a couple of fine early albums made by the band. Music made by middle aged white men for a fanbase not too far removed from that precise demographic. I’ve heard it all, and yep, critics are entitled to those opinions, whatever their starting point. But they’ll never convince me that’s all there is to it, and every National album across that same period has, to one degree or another, had plenty going for it. Which probably makes me a fan. I certainly fit the aforementioned notional demographic. Unashamedly so. In fact, I Am Easy To Find is the third of three post-2013 National albums to make this blog’s year-end list, and I’d go so far as to suggest it’s the band’s best full-length work since 2010’s High Violet. A fastidiously crafted set of tunes that took me on a warm and familiar journey with each and every listen. The addition of female voices (including choral elements) was a major point of difference from past work, although Matt Berninger’s compelling and emotionally charged baritone remains a highlight, particularly on standout tunes like ‘Oblivions’, ‘The Pull of You’, ‘Hey Rosey’, ‘Light Years’, and ‘Not in Kansas’. With so much going on across its near seven-minute trip, the latter track was something close to the blog’s song of the year ... if there was such a thing (don’t encourage me).

1. VA/On-U Sound - Pay It All Back Volume 7

Oh no! A compilation album! … how can that be? It breaks just about every unwritten rule of year-end reflecting to list a various artist/compilation label sampler as your blog’s album of the year. But who really cares about rules that aren’t written down? This was outstanding. Every bit worthy of the long wait. 23 years after the last release in the renowned Pay It All Back series, Volume 7 exceeded my own expectations in every way. All hail the production virtuosity of the dub master himself, Adrian Sherwood. My full review is here.


Close, but no funny cigar (another ten):

There’s no room on this list for one of my favourite bands, Iceland’s Of Monsters And Men, who released Fever Dream. Each of the band’s two previous albums have featured on this list in past years, but Fever Dream was a disappointment for me, with OMAM having abandoned the mystical and magical in favour of a far more generic stadium-ready sound.

Had Dead Little Penny’s Urge Surfing been released earlier in the year it probably would have made the cut because right now, as at mid-December, it feels like a real grower. Certainly, it’s one of the best local albums of the year in that dark shoegaze-y vibe I love so much.

The Radio Dept’s 2019 “album” I Don’t Need Love, I’ve Got My Band is decent, and I’m a fan of Sweden’s finest, but it’s not really a “new” album, merely a compilation of past work, clumping together two previously released EPs from 2003 and 2005. Worth a listen if The Radio Dept is new to you.

I listened to Ladytron’s self-titled return a fair bit, and loved a lot of it, but it just fell short on account of it not really breaking any new ground. New Ladytron, just like old Ladytron, which, most years, is not a bad thing to be.

Angel Olsen’s All Mirrors is another of those albums that would just as likely have featured more prominently here had it been released earlier in the year. I probably haven’t listened to it enough (yet) but I suspect it’ll be well represented on year-end lists elsewhere. Olsen is one to watch.

Underworld’s Drift series was an ambitious undertaking. I downloaded a job-lot 40-track version which clocks in at nearly six hours. There’s some truly great stuff in there, but that’s a hell of a casual listening exercise, and Drift wasn’t really an album in any traditional sense of the word.

The Raconteurs’ Help Us Stranger was a throwback to a far simpler time. A time when classic rock dinosaurs roamed and ruled. Help Us Stranger showcases Jack White and Brendan Benson’s love of all things 1970s, and it was mostly an enjoyable listening experience. The odd cringeworthy moment excepted.

Prince is no longer with us, but his musical legacy lives on. Originals is a collection of Prince performing songs he wrote for other artists, or at least, those he allowed other artists to release. It cements his status as not only one of his generation’s most underrated songsmiths, but one of the greatest vocalists of the past 40 years.

Foals released two albums in 2019. Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost Parts 1 & 2. Released months apart. The earlier release is probably the one to savour, if only for the way it veers into an unlikely synthpop realm, but both are worthwhile efforts and I’m surprised Foals aren’t gaining a lot more commercial traction.

Finally, in terms of albums, Marvin Gaye’s You’re The Man was an interesting release. Recorded between 1969 and 1972, it was originally intended as a follow-up to Gaye’s acclaimed What’s Going On (1971) but was shelved by Motown and remained unreleased until early 2019. I’m a little unclear about whether it was Motown boss Berry Gordy or Gaye himself who pulled its initial release but the fact is, despite some of the content being a little patchy, fans of Gaye, or classic soul, will find a lot to love on You’re The Man.  

Which brings me nicely to reissue of the year: I just can’t go past the 25th anniversary deluxe release of R.E.M.’s Monster (1994). The original album, a remix of the original, a bunch of unreleased demos (mostly instrumentals), and live versions from its era. Monster has always been regarded as something of a black sheep within the band’s canon, but this reissue - especially the remixed album and even some of the unreleased work - brings into clear focus just how good the music of R.E.M. was during the band’s pomp.

EP of the year: Contenders by Contenders. Punk rock out of Hamilton. Everything about this release is short and sharp. Must be played loud, preferably with copious amounts of beer at the ready. A shout out too for the young Wellington electronic artist Miromiro, who released two fine synthwave-y EPs during the year, Toucan and Andreev Bay. I was a big fan also, of Kool Aid’s Family Portrait EP.

Gig of the year: Blam Blam Blam at St Peter’s Hall, Paekakariki. No question. I waited 38 years to see the reformed band play live after seeing a much more youthful version as a youngster myself back in 1981. It’s hard to go past bucket list events like that.

In a similar vein, Beat Rhythm Fashion at Meow was quite special too. Other locals who rocked my world included The Beths at San Fran and Miss June at Meow. Of the international artists who visited these shores, Gang of Four at San Fran was surprisingly good, and a less well attended set at the same venue by the Dub Pistols got my 2019 gig-going year off to a flyer. Herbie Hancock in Wellington was the biggest “name” I saw live, but that particular night was less enjoyable for me, for a number of reasons that I simply don’t have room to expand upon here …  

I’ve kept you long enough. Thanks for reading and thanks for supporting everythingsgonegreen in 2019. Wishing you merry festivities and happy holidays. Play safe, and don’t get arrested.


Sunday, July 22, 2018

Porky Post: 10 Aussie Bands That Don’t Stink (like a decomposing wallaby)

J’accuse an entire nation of musical crimes. Yes, this is you Australia in the dock. In your attempts to prove you have cultural leanings you forced upon us Kylie, Dannii, Guy Sebastian, The Bee Gees, The Wiggles, The Seekers, Powderfinger, Peter Andre, Jessica Mauboy, Rose Tattoo, Tina Arena, Olivia Newton-John, John Farnham, Cold Chisel, Delta Goodrem (okay, okay, we’ve got the point, get on with the bloody article – Ed). 

So, in no particular order, here’s a list of ten acts from Oz that are more than bearable. 

The Go-Betweens: A band in cahoots with the back catalogues of both the Velvet Underground and The Monkees were on a hiding to nothing in the 80s. Yet the Go-Betweens, formed in Brisbane in 1977 around the nucleus of arts students Robert Forster and Grant McLennan, garner little more than a cult appreciation. Up to 1989 the Go-Betweens released six albums, most of which were lavishly praised, but none of which sold. Though revered by critics and fellow musicians, the band remains an acquired taste. They are filed away in the what-could-have-been cabinet. I have a compilation album from the 90s, a glorious double-album that filled me with both joy and melancholy. But mostly joy. They are perhaps a mood band and I haven’t found the right mood to listen to them again in a long time. That day will come however. 

Bad Seeds
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds: Born out of the ashes of the Birthday Party (see below), Cave and his merry men set forth on a career built on death ballads, rock’n’roll, gloom, happiness, and more gloom. They soon became the goths it is acceptable to like. If such a thing is possible. Undoubted highlights are Abattior Blues/The Lyres of Orpheus, a double album released in 2004 that is one half rock-blues ideal for the bad side of your character, the other half a more sedate affair with a theatrical flair; and Dig !!! Lazarus Dig !!! released in 2008, was about as scuzzy as Cave and his mob would ever get.
Tame Impala: Like The The and Aztec Camera, this Perth act is really a one-man band, centred around one Kevin Parker. Tame Impala embody the sound of The Beatles, Syd-era Pink Floyd, and The Flaming Lips. In 2010 they released the excellent neo-psych album, Innerspeaker, setting the controls for the heart of Sgt. Pepper. The follow-up, 2012’s Lonerism was better arranged, but like many acts that produce a corker of a debut, the second lacks a certain edge. It sounded contrived, but was nevertheless more of a commercial success. Parker has since released Currents (2015) and is no doubt feverishly working on another collection of psych-drone-pop.  
Yothu Yindi: Perhaps this is the most important band of them all. A mixed race band from the Northern Territory which played traditional instruments like the yidaki and bilma, and proudly displayed their aboriginal cultural identity. Treaty is the band's most recognised hit. It was written after Prime Minister Bob Hawke had pledged to recognise Indigenous Australians. Yothu Yindi toured the United States with Midnight Oil in the late 1980s, which would have made for a curious evening. 
Radio Birdman
Radio Birdman: Borderline entry perhaps but included because they were the first real punk band in Oz alongside The Saints. The Sydney six-piece formed in 1974 when Stooges and MC5 fanatic Deniz Tek relocated from the States. The police would regularly shut down their gigs because of the noise or raucous behaviour of their fans. The early days featured performance art at the gigs, including poetry readings of pieces by Jim Morrison and the Last Poets. That ended when frontman Rob Younger scooped offal from a skull and spat it into the audience. They produced one of the first punk records – the Burn My Eye EP in October 1976, but only released one album*, Radios Appear.
The Saints: Formed about the same time as Radio Birdman, The Saints beat their rivals to a debut release by a month with the incendiary ‘(I’m) Stranded/ No Time’ on their own Fatal Records label when no other labels wanted to know. Their brand of high octane punk/rock'n'roll first got them a recording deal with EMI Harvest in the UK. The band described themselves as being ".. a punk group before it was fashionable", and their music seemed in tune with the (then) current British punk scene. The problem was that The Saints didn’t put a great deal of emphasis on their image, when punk was an image as much as a sound and an attitude. Comparisons to AC/DC probably didn’t help. Retrospectives are more favourable. In the year of punk, The Saints released the sizzling ‘This Perfect Day’, the Know Your Product EP and the brilliant (I’m) Stranded LP. They were fucking immense. 
The Birthday Party: Born out of The Boys Next Door - a poor excuse for a Melbourne punk band in reality - The Birthday Party were a challenging act, one that people either loathed or wet their pants over. It was rock’n’roll at its edgiest and most unhinged; like the band itself, perhaps. Two albums were recorded for that home of weird bastards, 4AD: Prayers On Fire (1981) and, Junkyard (1982). This was uncompromising music, with Nick Cave ranting and raging about lost souls and the grotesque characters who infested his imagination. 
The Thought Criminals: I knew nothing of this lot till I entered an Adelaide record store a few years back and asked for “something punky and new wavy” and was directed by the owner to a few CDs, one of which was the Peace Love and Under Surveillance EP, released in 2007. They didn’t sound new though and I later discovered they were one of many punk bands that formed in 1977 - in Sydney - but doing well to last till 1981. The Thought Criminals took their name from George Orwell’s novel Nineteen Eighty-Four and based some of their songs on the ideals from the book. There were also songs called ‘Hilton Bomber’, ‘I Won’t Pay (For Punk Records)’, and ‘Fuck The Neighbours’. Jangly guitars rather than full on distortion and drums that didn’t puncture the ear, and a sort-of manifesto: “Don’t want no top ten hit/ Don’t want no disco shit/ Just wanna have fun”. 
Midnight Oil
Midnight Oil: Formed, like, forever ago (ie mid-70s) the Oils are a national institution and figures of hate in almost equal measure. While musically their straight-down-the-line-rock’n’roll is hardly earth-shattering we include them for their hard-hitting attitude and defence of the vulnerable. For example, Indigenous Australians on the universal hit ‘Beds Are Burning’. Too many albums since 1978 to detail, and they remain a live circuit favourite, reforming last year for a world tour that included a couple of dates in Newzild.
The Triffids: There were few Velvets/ Stooges/ Eno fans in Perth in the late 70s, and the select few of them ended up in the Triffids. Breaking Australia is a mission in itself with days spent travelling to gigs, but the Triffids built up quite a following. Attempting to replicate that modest success in Europe proved tough, however. “Even the ballads were confrontational”, recalls singer David McComb. A string of low-key, lo-fi releases, some only on cassette, came before a trilogy of fey, and magnificently lovelorn albums arrived in the shape of Born Sandy Devotional (1986), Calenture (1988), and The Black Swan (1989). I have two of them, one bought from an op shop in St Andrews for the price of a bag of lollies. 
The Laughing Clowns: After The Saints’ demise, the band’s guitarist Ed Kuepper formed The Laughing Clowns which strayed a rather different path, integrating jazz influences into their unique take on post-punk. The Clowns released several records between 1980 and 1985, with their debut, a self-titled, six-song EP on Aussie independent Missing Link. In 1982, they moved to London, where they recorded their debut LP, Mr. Uddich Schmuddich Goes to Town. The Law of Nature was released in 1984, and the band's final studio LP, Ghosts of an Ideal Wife, came out in 1985. And then the laughing stopped. 
Everything's A Thread
The John Steel Singers: A six-piece from Brisbane for whom the word obscure was invented for. I know only of them from the illuminating album cover I spotted at Wellington Central Library and took out on the basis of that. Sometimes you can judge an album by its cover and Everything’s A Thread (2013) was incredibly illuminating. They sound like ... ummm ... a bit like ... well ... ah, just go on Bandcamp. Oh, and there is no John Steel. 
Severed Heads: Minimal electronic and synthpop are among the terms bandied about to describe Severed Heads but neither are entirely appropriate. Essentially the life project of sole core member, Tom Ellard, Severed Heads is not a band but more a representation of what a truly creative life can be. Ellard showed touches of self-flagellation when in 1985 they were signed to a major label and flown to the UK for some gigs that were expected to open doors. As The Quietus explains, it didn’t quite go to plan ... “A crowd gathered expecting to hear dance-floor friendly synth pop, and instead Ellard and co treated them to a 30-minute ambient trance piece. The reception was mixed, to say the least.”
Yes, I know there’s 13, I got carried away. 
Also recommended: You Am I, The Church, The Drones, The Scientists, The Primitive Calculators, The Vines, Machine Gun Fellatio, The Hoodoo Gurus, Paul Kelly …

(* I fear Porky has forgotten about a second Radio Birdman album, Living Eyes, which was recorded prior to the band breaking up in 1978, but not released until 1981. There may have been a completely unheralded post-millennium album also - Ed).