Movement may well have been New Order’s debut album, the
first in a series of acclaimed releases that more or less defined the Eighties
for many, but it was also very much a transitional album for a band still
grieving the loss of its lead singer. For all that it was “officially” a debut,
it was also a follow-up to all that went before … and given the circumstances,
it really couldn’t have been any other way. It also stands as something of an oddity in the New Order
catalogue in that it most definitely isn’t a dance album. No matter how closely
you listen, you’ll be hard pressed to identify any sign whatsoever that this
band would eventually provide a significant bridge between low key angst-ridden
Indie rock and the rather more glossy Acid House/Techno evolution starting to
take shape across the Atlantic in the nightclubs of Chicago and Detroit. And again … given the circumstances, it really couldn’t be
any other way. Bright lights, dancing, joy, and feelings of euphoria definitely
weren’t on this band’s agenda back in 1981 when Movement was released, and
certainly not part of its makeup when the album was conceived in late
1980/early 1981, during the weeks and months after the death of Ian Curtis and
the demise of Joy Division.
Movement’s bleak themes and grey soundscapes, its angular
guitars and icy synths, are not vastly removed from where Joy Division left
off, and the shadow of Curtis looms large as the defining backdrop to the
album. New Order’s struggle to find its own signature sound – something that
would start to fall into place on Movement’s follow-up, Power Corruption And
Lies – means it isn’t too difficult to view this album as the third studio
album Joy Division never made. Hell, even the vocals of Sumner and Hook tend to
ape those of Curtis at times. As such, Movement pretty much represents a snapshot of a
band in transition, a mandatory step on the road to longevity, and a fairly
emphatic last gasp purging of the past. It seems improbable that New Order
would have morphed into the hugely influential band they eventually became
without this initial small step away from what they once were. In order to
embrace a bright new future, indeed, any sort of future together, it was
necessary to get the grieving process over and done with first. Movement received a belated “Deluxe” makeover of sorts in
2008 – with a bonus disc of essential material from the same period (including
two versions of the fabulous 'Temptation', two of 'Ceremony', plus 'In A Lonely
Place', 'Everything’s Gone Green', and 'Procession') accompanying the original
album.
Best tracks on Movement: 'Dreams Never End', 'The Him' (my
fave), 'Doubts Even Here', and 'Denial'.
All
early indications are that 2013 is quickly shaping up as The Year of the Comeback.
Barely anticipated new albums from David Bowie and My Bloody Valentine have
dominated music pages, blogs, twitter feeds, and just about every other form of
social media, where the relative merits of each release have been endlessly
debated.
There
have been similarly unexpected surprises from Suede and The House of Love, along
with news that Primal Scream’s first new work in five years is only a matter of
days away. Throw in the fact that the Stone Roses actually played a gig in
Auckland last month, and you would be forgiven if you believed you’d taken a
wrong turn at New Year’s Eve to somehow end up being involuntarily transported two
full decades back to 1993.
And
then there’s this, New Order’s “new” album, Lost Sirens. Only this isn’t so
much a comeback, as it is the release of a bunch of previously shelved cuts
from the Waiting for the Sirens’ Call (2005) sessions. I’m not quite sure why,
I wouldn’t have thought it a particularly lucrative cash cow for the band to
release this now, and I can only suppose it’s simply all about just keeping the
band’s name out there.
Still
a viable going concern as a touring act, sans the now departed pivotal bassist
Peter Hook, who does of course feature prodigiously on Lost Sirens, it’s perhaps a way
of saying there’s life in the old dog yet. But the sad reality is that subsequent
events and petty in-house issues have rendered a few of these tracks worthwhile
only as keepsakes of the original band in its death throes.
Mercifully
short at eight tracks across just 38 minutes, the fact is the two best tracks
on Lost Sirens have been released before; ‘Hellbent’, a Dandy Warholesque
rocker, had previously appeared on that suspiciously exploitative Joy
Division/New Order co-compilation Total, while ‘I Told You So’ goes one better,
having formerly been sighted on the actual Waiting for the Sirens’ Call album
in its original form. Only this time we get a re-work.
The
other six tracks are interesting enough in an anal happy-to-have-them kinda
way, but non New Order fans are unlikely to be converted by any of the “new”
material on offer. Considering the original Sirens is one of the least heralded
or celebrated New Order releases, it’s difficult to understand why we’re now
hearing work that didn’t even make the cut at the time.
"once more for the cameras lads"
But
it is what it is – another batch of music to add to the ever expanding New
Order file. The band hasn’t had its problems to seek in recent years, and I
note things between Sumner and Hook appear to have taken yet another turn for
the worse, so I don’t really want to bag New Order. I’ve got everything they’ve
ever done in one form or another and the band’s five Eighties albums represent
a practically flawless run. It’s just that none of this work measures up to
that group in its pomp, and I’m surprised to see it out here.
Highlights:
there’s some cheesy and rather weak lyrics on offer but if you can get past
that then … ‘Hellbent’, ‘I’ll Stay With You’, ‘Recoil’, ‘Californian Grass’, and
‘I Told You So’. Here's 'Hellbent' ..
Here's a great new track from Willow Beats, who I've raved about in the past. Released last week, a taster for something more substantial on its way. A free download too ..
Here’s ‘Red Skies', a slice of shameless pop from
The Fixx, circa 1982, off the Shuttered Room album (the band’s debut) from that
year. The Fixx were something of a curiosity in that unlike the vast majority
of UK-based synthpop bands of the era, they were bigger in the USA than they
were in their home country. The Fixx are still a going concern, and as recently
as 2012 the band released studio album number ten, Beautiful Friction. The 1983
album Reach The Beach was probably the band’s most successful album commercially,
but Shuttered Room was my own favourite.
I
hadn’t intended to go to Cat Power at the Wellington Town Hall, but when two
comp tickets landed in my lap during the week leading up to the gig, well, I
was quietly pleased ... even if it meant abandoning all last gasp hope of
seeing the Wedding Present perform on the same night, and the shunning of a
friend’s birthday meal. And actually, a little worryingly, the two comps
weren’t in the form of physical tickets, rather it was the altogether less
convincing assurance that “your name (plus one) will be on the door”.
And
so it was.
As
it turned out, arriving fashionably late was something of a risk; we missed
whatever warm-up act had played in support, and had only just purchased a
couple of drinks when Chan Marshall and her band suddenly appeared on stage,
launching into ‘The Greatest’ before we’d even had a chance to settle into the
small-to-moderate sized crowd. The gig certainly wasn’t a sell out (and I
suspect part of that was due to the Wedding Present playing across town).
‘The
Greatest’ set the tone for the evening, all moody build up and atmosphere, an
ebbing and flowing of Marshall’s always heartfelt vocal delivery as the band immediately
warmed to its task. From there it was into ‘Cherokee’ and a journey through
most of her 2012 album, Sun; ‘Ruin’, ‘3, 6, 9’ and ‘Nothin’ But Time’ being
among the show’s highlights.
Yet
there was no one single show-stopping highpoint in the performance, and at no time
was I standing there spellbound by what was happening on stage, or in awe of what
I was hearing. It all felt a little bit cold and clinical. Chan Marshall tends
to get lost in her performance, or at the very least, lost in the role play of
tortured artist, and there was a sense she was acting it out a little.
The
band was tight – very Cure-esque, I thought, which placed Sun in a slightly different
context, so I must return for another listen – but the star was Marshall
herself, just as it should be, dominating the stage and squeezing every last
raw emotion out of that unique voice. It is just that the gig never really
peaked, and it felt like it was just another city, another venue, another
night. Business as usual for Cat Power.
There
was a point where Marshall attempted to cajole the crowd into an obligatory “cigarette
lighter moment”, taking her own lighter out, giving it the requisite spark,
only to then be confronted by blank looks and wider crowd apathy. They just
weren’t feeling it like she was. Either that, or there are clearly no smokers
anymore, and those pesky lighters just weren’t on hand.
And
then right at the end, no warning that the (70-minute?) gig was close to coming
to an end, no sign of any encore … nothing, just a blast of what appeared to be
some bad taste Hip hop track at the conclusion of her set, in what was almost
certainly a shameless ploy to remove us from the venue as quickly as possible. It
was done.
The
lack of an encore was disappointing. I had banked on her ‘New York New York’
cover being wheeled out, or perhaps one or two tracks from the back catalogue could
have been given an airing, but it seems the passion just wasn’t there, and we weren’t
going to get one. We weren’t even allowed to superficially go through the
motions of screaming for more.
The
sound at the Town Hall wasn’t the best, or even remotely close to the best it’s
been in the past – it was “muddy”, just as another blogger has described it –
but for some reason that didn’t bug me as much as it usually would.
I
had few expectations at the outset and that was perhaps just as well. I suspect
a few of the more committed Cat Power devotees may have been underwhelmed by
what was delivered, but my own starting point was that I had nothing to lose,
and I wound up enjoying the night. For all of the flaws, I was generally pretty
happy just to live in Marshall’s performance for an hour or so, to stand alongside
her, and to take it all in. I just went with it … and it worked.
I
was listening to this album today trying to convince myself that forking out a
small fortune to see the Buzzcocks in Wellington was a worthwhile exercise.
Here’s a review I wrote for another site a few years back:
*
Probably
one of the best Punk-pop compilations you’re ever likely to find, the original
1981 edition of Singles Going Steady, initially released as a taster for the
yet-to-be-converted American market, comprised of 16 tracks, and it represented
a comprehensive overview of the Buzzcocks’ brilliant singles career to that
point – the band’s eight A-sides and the eight accompanying B-sides. However
the 2001 digitally remastered edition surpasses even that, with the inclusion
of a further eight tracks, including three subsequent A-sides.
It
is often stated that the Buzzcocks’ debut release – the Spiral Scratch EP – was
the first genuine so-called “punk” release (in the UK, at least), beating the
likes of the The Clash and the Sex Pistols to the punch, and if I can fault
Singles Going Steady in any way then it is only because this album fails to
include any of the four tracks included on Spiral Scratch (my choice would be
the raw and mildly witty ‘Boredom’). It therefore largely overlooks the early
influence within the band of Howard Devoto – who left to form Magazine just as
the band started to make it “big”.
Singles
does however open with the Devoto/Pete Shelley-penned classic, ‘Orgasm Addict’,
the band’s first “official” 45 (not one for mainstream radio), and something of
a DIY bedroom anthem for many a pre-pubescent boy in 1977 (if you’ll excuse the
imagery/pun). We then get a run of a further seven utterly fantastic tracks
which will already be familiar to most: ‘What Do I Get?’, ‘I Don’t Mind’, ‘Love
You More’, ‘Ever Fallen In Love’, ‘Promises’, ‘Everybody’s Happy Nowadays’,
and ‘Harmony In My Head’ …
The
best of the rest include the B-sides ‘Oh Shit!’, ‘Autonomy’, and ‘Something’s
Gone Wrong Again’.
While
the Buzzcocks were considered very much a “punk” band at the time, quite
probably Manchester’s finest example of such, and very influential in the
development of the post-punk scene, without the attendant punk movement in
London and the emergence of a host of other bands with a similar sound and
ethos around the same time, they’d just as likely have been regarded as a
power-pop four-piece throwback to the Sixties garage scene. Although Shelley’s
vocal contained the requisite amounts of anti-establishment sneer and the
band’s style could be classed as moody and aggressive, their fast and furious
style wasn’t radically different or overly experimental in the purest sense of
punk.
And
while there was plenty of wit and large doses of cynicism within their lyrics
(mostly Shelley compositions), they weren’t especially political, and their
focus was geared more towards problems associated with teenage issues such as
growing up and dealing with the opposite sex rather than anything too
subversive.
In
fairness they weren’t just a singles band either, but there probably isn’t any
need for newcomers to explore any of their other albums in any great depth,
since all of the best stuff (and more) can be found on here. Enjoy!
Standing
at the back of the Cat Power gig at the Wellington Town Hall on Saturday night
I was reminded of just how much a live performance can change the way you feel
about a band (or an artist). Especially if your only previous exposure to their
music was of the recorded and tweaked variety. A live show leaves an indelible
impression in a way that dozens of encounters with recorded output can’t. Loud
and up close has a certain magic about it, a particular way of getting in,
under the skin, for the long haul. If they turn it on live, chances are they’ll
have you for life, no matter how patchy the discography may turn out to be.
I’ll
get back to the Cat Power gig in a future post, but it got me thinking about
the upcoming visit to these shores (in April) of post-punk stalwarts, the
Buzzcocks, and my own feelings about that particular band.
On
one hand, I was thrilled to see the Wellington gig (of four across NZ)
scheduled on the only Saturday night date of the short tour, a date that also
rather conveniently coincides with a couple of birthdays. And I was excited
that I could actually choose to see the Buzzcocks for the first time, live,
after so many years of following from afar, should I wish to do so.
On
the other hand, I’m highly sceptical about reunion or nostalgia tours. More so when
it comes to a band from an era so firmly associated with my wide-eyed youth
phase. Not so much because of the idea that the band is now just cashing in, or
because of the (usually) extortionate ticket pricing. No, nothing quite so
high-horsed or noble, but more out of concern that the gig may change the way I
feel about the band.
What
happens now that the tinted eyewear has been removed and I’m forced to
confront the band through grown up eyes? What if they’re way past their best?
What if the gig is a steaming pile of dogshit and onetime idols are publicly
outed as try-hard chumps? Gasp!
In
recent years I’ve passed up opportunities to see The Cure and New Order
precisely because I couldn’t come up with answers to those sorts of questions. Or
because I couldn’t come up with an answer in time to secure a ticket.
Recall
of my first New Order gig is special to me and I want to preserve it. By some
reasoning – decipherable or otherwise – I felt that seeing them again would
risk tarnishing how I felt about the band going forward. I also had issues with
the absence of Peter Hook (but let’s not go into it too much).
As
for The Cure, the thought of watching the onetime Prince of Goth, Robert Smith,
heave his aging overweight frame across a stage, all the while trying to
convince us that his own unique variation on teenage angst was both heartfelt
and genuine, well, let’s just say it was more than I could bear.
I
did however make an exception for The Specials in Auckland back in 2009. That
was an experience, a roadtrip, an extended weekend with friends I hadn’t seen
in yonks, something that went well beyond the notion of simply attending a gig.
So I don’t really count that one, I see it as an exception to the rule.
Which
brings me back to the Buzzcocks … what to do? One of the true genre pioneering
bands of my generation and I pass up the chance to see them? But what about
that awkward moment when I realise I’m standing in front of a 60-something balding
Manc git screaming at me about teenage masturbation? Or when he’s reminding us
of how hurt he was that time he fell in love with someone he shouldn’t have
fallen in love with … I mean, really?
Or
I could just live in the moment, have a night out, and have some fun.
Disconnect from that baggage and have a good night out watching a band I once adored
…
So
I’ve been blogging for a couple of years now at the rate of around one post per
week and everythingsgonegreen has finally crawled across the 10,000 page hits
mark. Thanks to the, ahem, four people (myself included!) who saw fit to leave
a comment. I love you guys! … but more comments please, don’t force me to get
all controversial on your ass in order to squeeze more blood.
Anyway,
of those page hits, the Fat Freddy’s Drop (love you guys too!) album review
from way back has proved the most popular link (859 single page views, though
The Naked And Famous are closing in fast). And any combination of words that
include fat, freddy’s, and drop, provide for four of the ten most popular
search terms that transport readers to everythingsgonegreen.
Fat Planet
Incidentally,
roughly speaking, New Zealand accounts for around 40% of everythingsgonegreen’s
readership, the USA 20%, the UK 7%, with the rest of the cyberplanet accounting
for the remaining third (thank you fine folk of the Ukraine – love you guys
too!).
So
purely as a pathetically obvious greasy bumlick, to cater specifically to the
very discerning (and somewhat attractive) everythingsgonegreen readership, here’s
a link to a clip of the latest release from Fat Freddy’s Drop (‘Mother Mother’),
found over at Peter McLennan’s wonderful dubdotdash – link below:
I’ve
had a few thoughts on some of the other albums I listened to through 2012, some
of which I’ve reviewed here, and some others that didn’t stick around long
enough to earn a review.
The
albums that didn’t make it into the final ten fell into two categories:
firstly, those albums downloaded and binned after a few listens, and secondly,
those albums downloaded/purchased that I actually liked, kept, but didn’t like
enough to include in the ten.
It’s
the first category that provides a surprise or two. Looking back, I was pretty
quick off the mark to download and bin a couple of acclaimed new release albums
that would ultimately prove prominent on year-end lists elsewhere. Albums I had
downloaded on the strength of positive reviews, but nonetheless albums I just
couldn’t gel with.
For
example, the Frank Ocean album wasn’t in my ten, ubiquitous though it was on
any number of other blog year-end lists. Nor the none-too-bad Hot Chip release.
Neither did indie darlings Grizzly Bear feature. New albums by all of the above
were downloaded, listened to (more than once), and discarded.
Ocean: an orange shade of purple
Much
loved though they all were elsewhere, those albums got the recycle bin treatment
because I knew I wouldn’t be listening to them on any regular basis going
forward. But not before I’d extracted the few tracks on each that I’d connected
with (for playlist purposes).
A
friend of mine – even as a fan of the Frank Ocean album – summed it up best for
me when he said (paraphrasing here): “it’s almost as though critics were
shocked to discover a half decent R&B album in 2012 and (over) reacted
accordingly” … but for me Channel Orange remained over-hyped, and Ocean came
across as something of a poor man’s Prince.
I
also (downloaded and) binned new work from past favourites like The Cult, Dandy
Warhols, and Smashing Pumpkins. All were mediocre – at best – when measured
against deeds of yesteryear. AndMuse,
past masters when it comes to these year-end lists, well, what they gave us –
odd album cut excepted – was the ridiculous posing as the sublime. It too was
binned.
So
what made it into the second category, albums that made it all the way to the
end of the year, only to miss out? Albums I liked, kept, and will listen to
again. The better than decent also-rans:
Coming
closest of all but just missing the final ten was Leftfield’s Tourism (reviewed here), and it probably rates as my live album of the year. I gave this a
thorough workout through the early part of 2012.
Orbital’s
Wonky, something of a comeback album that, for the most part, lived up to the
best of that pioneering outfit’s past work, also came very close to making the
cut.
The Raveonettes: great Danes
The
Raveonettes featured in last year’s ten, and 2012’s Observator was a similarly
strong release that suffered only from feeling a little too familiar, mainly on
account of sounding a lot too much like 2011’s Raven In The Grave. All the
same, it still rates as another great album from the prolific Danish duo.
And
Paul Weller’s Sonik Kicks didn’t quite win me over enough either, despite it being
another solid release from a man who shows no sign of slowing down.
The
Haunted Man, the latest from Bat For Lashes is also a very listenable body of
work, and the feeling persists that I need to give this one a few more spins. I
really came quite late to this one and perhaps haven’t absorbed it fully. On
any other day The Haunted Man would more than likely have made the ten …
Had
the second half of Bobby Womack’s The Bravest Man In The Universe been anywhere
near as strong as the first half it too would have been a certainty for the ten,
but as noted in my original review (here) it just sort of limps to an
unfulfilling conclusion.
Bobby Womack: soul man
The
Dub Pistols’ Worshipping The Dollar (reviewed here) is another that came close
and it found itself on semi-permanent pod rotation for a month or two mid-year.
Upon
further reflection, I was very tough on The xx’s Coexist, which has appealed to
me a lot more since I wrote my original review (here), but I’m quite sure the
band will console itself with the reality that far more highly regarded critics
(than myself) deemed it a worthy effort, and it doubtlessly features on the
majority of those year-end album lists found elsewhere.
Ditto,
Cat Power’s Sun, another album that kept revealing more and more of its subtle
charms well after my initial review (here) was uploaded. I look forward to her gig in Wellington (tonight already!).
My
‘New Zealand’ album of the year has to be local-boy-done-good Myele
Manzanza’s solo debut effort (reviewed here).
I
also had a fair bit of time for Ladyhawke’s 2012 album, Anxiety, another highly
polished synthpop gem from Masterton’s Pip Brown.
Ladyhawke: pomp and polish
But
those two are merely the tip of the iceberg during what was a great year for
“local product”. My only issue is that I didn’t get around to listening to
enough of it.
Reissue
of the year if only for the fact that I didn’t fully get into it first time
around and it therefore still felt remarkably fresh: Paul Simon’s masterpiece,
Graceland, which came with all the additional bells and whistles offered by
repackaging.
So
that’s “the albums of 2012”. If not the best, then certainly my “most listened
to”. It was a year where more streaming/download options than ever before – not
to mention a procession of different listening devices, each one better than
the last – resulted in instant access to a wider range of music than I could
ever have previously imagined. Right now it’s hard not to feel a little bit
like a lucky old cat licking a super-sized dollop of fresh cream.
Here’s
a clip from one of the albums I binned in haste, and probably shouldn’t have. Hot
Chip’s gem ‘These Chains’, one of my single tracks of the year … lifted from
(the 2012 album) In Our Heads:
When
I was posting a short series of ‘Just Browsing’ posts to highlight a few of my
own favourite downloading sources a while back, I had fully intended to include
Celt Islam’s Soundcloud page but never quite got around to it. Here’s a guy
with virtually no commercial profile whatsoever, yet he’s making some of the
best electro-dub-world crossover tracks you’re ever likely to hear. He calls it
Sufi Dub, and he gives most of it away.
Celt
Islam (aka Muhammad Abdullah Hamzah) is a Manchester-based composer and
producer with an extraordinary talent, and the album Baghdad – released digitally
in late 2011 – is perhaps the ultimate example of his widescreen musical vision
thus far.
I
say widescreen, yet ironically it is probably only the niche market appeal of
his work that has held him back from wider acclaim. I suspect some of this stuff
is not all that accessible to an awful lot of people, a situation not helped by
the limited marketing scope of a self released album.
But
it’s widescreen in the sense that it blends so many different genres to produce
something of a genuine world music hybrid. No single style dominates an
absorbing mix of dub, electro, drum’n’bass, and dubstep, with African flavours
and Middle Eastern influences being the most prominent.
I
picked up my copy of Baghdad mid-year, having previously compiled a pick and
mix playlist of some of his earlier output. It blows me away every time I
listen to it. So much so, it soon became the irresistible and only option when
it came to selecting my number one album of the year. I can’t say for sure that
it was my “most listened to”, but it is the one that made the most impact on me.
It
somehow all feels very international, very global. The absence of vocals (for
the most part) probably helps. I don’t really know whether having some sort of
global vision is a key philosophy behind Sufi Dub, but it feels good. It feels
like it connects a wide range of musical strands, something that’s open to all
colour and creed, just patiently waiting to be embraced as a theological and meditative
blueprint for a better world.
At
a time when global unity feels like a forlorn hope – even if it remains every
bit the main ideal we should all aspire to – Baghdad offers a brief reprieve
from concepts like xenophobia and ethnic difference. A journey across a border-less
world, no less.
