Saturday, 17 November 2018

The MOJO CD - The Best of 2018



Here we are again, another year nearly gone by, another "Best of" CD to have fun with. They seem to come out earlier every year!

Idles - Great
Bristolian flavours of the year dip into their grandad's post-punk collection, add in some Iggy, both vocally, and via the chaos at their gigs, and come up with 2018's attempt to breathe life into the rock corpse. If I was 18 I'd love this racket. I quite like it at 307, as it happens. OK, this band have one idea, but they do it very well, and having one idea never did Coldplay any harm, did it? They even woke up Later for 5 minutes earlier in the year, for which many thanks are due.



Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever - An Air Conditioned Man
Another band who take their cues from the explosion in sounds that happened when the dust settled after the Punk Wars, this time from their Antipodean ancestors from that time. This song is giving me Go Betweens plus added swagger. Not bad at all. Oh, and definitely Band Name Of The Year!

Elvis Costello - Stripping Paper
Only a wordsmith as accomplished as Mr McManus could write a surprisingly warm self-examination ostensibly about decorating. He may be mellowing with age, but with The Attractions.... sorry, Imposters behind him he can still come up with the goods.
This song is superbly recorded,the sonics on this track are sublime, and the bass sound alone is worth the entry fee. Otherwise talented but cloth-eared new artists (Syd Arthur and Ryley Walker spring to mind) take note.

Cat Power - Woman
I've heard of Cat Power, and I'm vaguely aware of her feminist credentials. Knowing that means that this ditty is deffo not aimed an gnarled old scrote like me. She sings "I'm a woman" a lot on a decent enough pop outing.

Christine And The Queens - The Walker
Another one that passes by my bathchair, more hurriedly than Cat Power as it is driven by an annoyingly obvious electronic rhythm that a child could have come up with. The song itself is pretty forgettable too.

Young Fathers - Border Girl
Another new one for me, this lot make an electronic bass-driven racket that I can imagine Peter Gabriel making now if he'd been born in 1993.



Low - Disarray
Veteran miserablists go glam, but quite slowly, obviously. Actually not bad. After all this computer music I'm beginning to long for some humans playing instruments.

Kamasi Washington - Will You Sing
Humans, you say? Well, it doesn't get much more organic than this, from MOJO's #1 album of 2018. Kamasi leads the way in the age of nu-jazz. More soul in this one song than an entire album of puppies.

Fatoumata Diawarra - Nterini
Italy-based Malian (good luck with that, you might need it) singer with connections to Damon Albarn via his African Express adventures. Familiar African female vocal gymnastics and modern rhythms combine to make a finger-poppin' pop choon. Further investigation needed, as I've always been hypnotised by the African beat.

Eleanor Friedberger - Everything
Passable synth-pop. Inoffensive.

Gaz Coombes - Oxygen Mask
I have toyed with buying Mr Coombes' highly praised latest solo album, it being recommended by a mate as well as the press. This particular track is a fine example of singer-songwriter melancholic reflection without getting maudlin, with a great arrangement thrown in for good measure. Another one I will have to check out, methinks.



Ry Cooder - Straight Street
Mr Cooder and his guitar. Not much more to be said really. If you know the name you know how it pans out. If you don't you must be under 40, and a treasure trove awaits. This is where Americana came from.

Spiritualized - Here It Comes (The Road) Let's Go
Stonesy blues number from Jason's twenty-one-year comedown. It seems Primal Scream have have a rival.

Gwenno - Hi A Shoellyas Liv A Dhagrow
Celtic rebel Gwenno Saunders' first album was sung in Welsh, and apparently the follow-up is in Cornish. Breathy vocals singing a song about which goes on first, the cream or the jam. I may have made that up. The music has a woozy psychedelic pop soundtrack feel, which complements the wilful obscurantism of the lyrics to anyone born east of the Devon border, and probably to most pasty munchers, too. Actually rather alluring.

Maisha - Osiris
MOJO bigs up this London band as the closest thing we have to Kamasi Washington, big praise indeed. They're right too, by the sound of this. Yet another one waiting to snap at my wallet.

Tuesday, 25 September 2018

Space-time continuum disruption, daddio! (Vol 2)

Amazingly, a volume two of this nonsense appears, so soon after volume one too! Whodathunkit?

The Who - Live at Leeds


The second album in my occasional series is another I have never owned, and for good reason, as I have never liked it, or so my memory thought. I suppose I got off on the wrong foot with this one from day one, my mate's older cousin finding much mirth in my naive assuming that the title of his new purchase by The 'Oo meant that the band lived in the Yorkshire city. I was only 12, is my excuse!

This may have clouded  my judgement, as I seem to recall that Pete Townshend spent most of the album proving he isn't a lead guitarist. To be fair the episodes of noodling are kept to fast and furious minimum, most of the time he's just chopping away in that familiar rhythm guitar style of his, rather well it has to be said.

The conventional wisdom is that this is the best live album ever. Well it's far too late for me to even begin to work that one out, but one thing I find odd is the track selection. At a mere 37 minutes long, the album contains three cover versions on the rather short 15 minute first side of the original LP, and side two ends with the throwaway Bo Diddley rip off Magic Bus, when the band by this point had accumulated a pile of much stronger self-penned material that they could have included. Tommy was played in full at the gig I believe.

I suppose they had to include the near quarter hour long sprawling mess of My Generation, it being the expected climax of the gig. Expanded here to include parts of other songs, and Townshend leading some general messing about, it seems the band had taken a leaf out of the new kids on the superstar block Led Zeppelin's book, and that band's excesses on Dazed And Confused, always a track I skip on Zep live albums. All that's missing here is a violin bow. However, I am thankful for small mercies, as at least Live At Leeds doesn't contain a drum solo!

Long-form wigouts although the flavour of the day didn't suit The Who, who were always song-oriented, and some damn good ones they had too. Shame more of them are not on Live At Leeds. Star of the album is John Entwistle whose thunderous and dexterous bass playing stops it falling apart as Townshend and Moon try to outdo each other in the splenetic fury stakes.

I listened to this album twice for the purposes of writing this, and that's probably doubled the number of times I have heard it in full since the early 70s. In conclusion, it's not as bad as I remembered, but I won't be rushing to buy it. The best live album ever is Space Ritual by the way.

Thanks to my mate and similarly opinionated music-head Leo Trimming, without whom, etc...

Sunday, 16 September 2018

Space-time continuum disruption, daddio! (Vol.1)

Hi there
It's been a while since I posted anything here, so all my audience, all three of them, have wandered off over there somewhere, ne'er to return. The only visitors to this blog now are bots, worming away in a futile imitation of real life...or summat.

Anyway...this here thing will be an intermittent series of revisits to ancient records that have been gathering dust and spiders in my memory. Some may have been significant to my musical and sundry other forms of development, some will not. First up is:

Uriah Heep - Wonderworld



This is an album I had largely forgotten about, until I happened across a thread on Farcebook discussing Uriah Heep's new album. They're still going? Blimey, Mick Box must be about 107! As is the nature of these things, the discussion meandered and ventured into discussing this album.

Released in 1974 it was the Heep's seventh album, and the last with what would come to be regarded as their most consistent (you can't use a word like "classic" where a band this lumpen are concerned!) line up, as sadly bassist Gary Thain was shortly to become a victim of his long addiction to H. If we are to believe Wikipedia, the band handled his problems with Yes-like sensitive pragmatism!

"During his last tour in the United States with Uriah Heep, Thain suffered an electric shock at the Moody Coliseum in Dallas, Texas on 15 September 1974, and was seriously injured. Due to his drug addiction he was not able to perform properly, and was fired by the band in early 1975".

I never actually owned a copy of Wonderworld, a mate recorded it on cassette for me, and I am now listening to it (on YouTube I hasten to add) for the first time in at least four decades. Gawd, this takes me back!


Taken on its own it's not a bad album, although very much of its time and not particularly memorable. Where it falls down is that by 1974 Heep had hit on a formula, and it sounds like a fading shadow of what went before. It sounds a tad tired, a rehash of past glories.

Also by 1974 my musical tastes were broadening fast, having succumbed to the educational delights of John Peel. Heep's somewhat plodding straight ahead rhythms and Byron's and Hensley's sixth form poetry-as-lyrics now belonged to an age when I was but a child.

I got as far as Something Or Nothing, track six of nine, so I did quite well. By then it was giving me a headache so I had to turn it off.

Expect the next installment soon... or not.


Thanks to Jan Erik Liljeström for the Heep thread that inspired me to do this!


Thursday, 17 May 2018

Spock's Beard - Noise Floor

This band may well be Les Grands Fromages of American prawg rawk, and I thought it would be good to use their new album as an indicator of why I need to stop doing this reviewing thing for a while.

I managed to sit through the first two tracks. Lots of predictable empty AOR bluster arriving from nowhere and going straight back there. It sounds exactly as I thought it would, and could have been made at any time in the last 30 years.

How this dull fare has the gall to call itself a word derived from "progressive" should be the least of anyone's concerns. Frankly, this is no less referential or unimaginative than anything Ed Sheeran has come up with. In fact I'd rather go see the ginger minstrel, as at least his audience would be more pleasing on the eye.

This uninspiring musical constipation clogging my earways reminds me why I need to take a break from the unrelenting tsunami of mind-numbing noise that is forever engulfing us all. Yes, the occasional diamond surfaces, and deserves the spotlight I might throw on it, but someone else can have go for a while. You may see more live reviews, interviews, and who knows, actual music journalism from my acerbic virtual pen in the future, but album reviews...as I said, I need a break.

Bye-ee!

Sunday, 28 January 2018

Mark E Smith - Totally Wired

Mark Edward Smith, who died aged 60 from a combination of bizarre and mundane illnesses that apparently baffled his doctors, a fact his ghost is no doubt cackling away at as I type, would of course take exception at yet another splurge of verbosity in his honour, such as this. Among the many things he professed to hate was "soft lads who blab." Oh well, he was the bloke who epitomised the old adage "never meet your heroes" after all, so being a mild irritant to his ghost is no skin off my hooter.

I first came across The Fall sometime in 1979 when subjected to their debut album Live At The Witch Trials round a mate's house. I remember thinking to myself "what a dumb racket this is", and me au fait with the punk ethos too. It's still not an album I can listen to, to be honest, although I appreciate its ramshackle DIY art terror. In those pre-interweb days it took years before my young naive self twigged what "No Xmas For John Quays" actually meant, by which time I was long a convert, my Damascene moment occurring seconds into my first hearing of  the single Rowche Rumble on the John Peel Show, probably sometime in July 1979, not more than a month or two on from that first encounter.

Rowche Rumble is four minutes of primitive glam-punk perfection with a subversive scat from Mark concerning ethical and moral corruption within government, the medical profession, and the pharmaceutical industry. And he named his band after a Camus novel, one that I bet was read by a fair number of us spotty oiks who may never otherwise have been aware of its existence. Like the band the book is hard work but ultimately rewarding.

How dare they fling this filth at our pop kids! Well they didn't because only us few wise young/old heads bought Rowche Rumble, but it started a run of four perfect anti-pop blasts from Manchester's finest that would see me well and truly submerged into the murky depths of Fall Sound, and the joy of Repetition, a tenet carved in vinyl as the third track of the same name on their debut single released on 11th August 1978.

John Peel famously said of his favourite band "always different, always the same". The glittering likes of  Rowche Rumble, Fiery Jack, How I Wrote Elastic Man, and the fabulous speedfreak anthem Totally Wired  were meat and drink to the Peel disciples, but The Fall were at their best when subverting the mainstream with covers of Ghost In My House and Victoria, which saw them make two minor dents on the real Top 40, and thereby the subconscious of the wider audience of pop pickers.

Mark's observations on life peppered with his cut'n'paste surrealism made for lyrics that were truly unique. These were delivered in his trademark drawl that as the years progressed became the often unintelligible but undoubtedly dyspeptic bark of the mad old bloke sat on his own in the corner of the pub, but we wouldn't have had it any other way. Thankfully the marvellous fan resource thefall.org takes the hard work out of deciphering Smith's more mangled blasts.

"I wrote about what was around me, but some people are so daft they don't understand that writing about Prestwich is just as valid as Dante writing about his Inferno"

As a live act they were gloriously unpredictable, often veering from the sublime to the ridiculous within the same song, particularly in later years as Mark prowled the stage, fiddling with his musician's amps. Being a soundman for The Fall must have been a nightmare, which is probably why, as legend has it, they designed an on-stage monitor especially for Mark called the "DFA Amp" that the irascible frontman could muck about with to his heart's content. It didn't take him long to twig what "DFA" stood for!

The musical legacy Mark has left us with is a wonderfully primitive, visceral thing, topped off with his often incisive and frequently impenetrable stream of consciousness verbiage, and as such it has stood the test of time better than that of most of his punk contemporaries, partly because he never stopped until nature stopped him.

RIP Mark E Smith, now fiddling with Jimi's amp on the great stage in the far beyond...

The Daily Farkin' News

...and now, over to our not-popular music correspondent, Felicity Hairshirt. What have you for us today, Felicitititititity?

You really must sort that stammer out, Bob, here, have a banana daiquiri...

First up tonight from the prog puddle is news that Big Big Train's much talked about "new direction" is indeed an Earth Wind & Fire styled disco album, as I predicted in my end-of-year blog, to be recorded under the pseudonym Big Mo-reece. Turns out it was the real reason Andy Poole left, as he can't dance, unlike David Longdon, who can now indulge his Maurice White obsession to the max. You should hear Greg Spawton's fretless slap bass, in 13/8!!!


David Longdon
...

Moving swiftly on, changes of direction seem to be this year's thing, with shocking revelations that prog luvvies The Gift's new album is to be much rockier and more rifftastic than anything they've done before. The new sound is shrouded in secrecy, but I spotted singist Michael Mortone (dig the new "metal" name, Mikey! I know I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but hey, wotcha gonna do?) leaving a rehearsal studio gasping and clutching at his throat after a marathon session learning how to "Cookie Monster", followed by a grinning Mikael Akerfeldt. Whodathunkit??!

When asked to comment, he couldn't, above an unintelligible hoarse whisper, but Akerfeldt chipped in with "The jackets have to go, and he'll be needing some tatts, but for now the spiky gauntlets will do".

Michael Mortone
...

As we all know, everyone in Scandinavia is or has been in a band at some point in their enviously contented lives. Some of them were or indeed, are in a bunch of prog noodlers called The Flower Kings. The band have stunned their fans with news that their latest album will contain 15 three-minute songs, each with a beginning, middle, and...wait for it...an end! Guitar wizard Roine Stolt describes this as their "We Can't Dance period".
...

Speaking of bands who wish it were 1973ish and sound like Fragile By The Pound...on second thoughts, I can't be arsed.
...

Back to Blighty with the not entirely unexpected news that Bad Elephant "musician" Tom Slatter was arrested yesterday on suspicion of the murder of label PR bloke, the exiled Yorkie James Turner, after the latter's body was found up a tree in Bristol with the Oxford Book Of Puns protruding from an orifice it is not polite to mention before the watershed. As he was led away in manacles, Slatter mumbled something approximating "I'm normally a pacifisht, but Turner's constant punning pushed me off the scale, I was so tench, and  AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH...."

When asked to comment, Bad Elephant supremo,The Enforcer, aka Dave "Knuckles" Elliott, aka (that's enuff akas - Ed) would only say "I expect the new album by Wednesday, or I'll kidnap his collection of ocelots and curry 'em up for dinner, one by one."
...

And finally, one I'm sure you've heard, as this man has something called "a profile", a thing hitherto unheard of in these murky waters...Steven Wilson, a lifelong Catholic, was canonised yesterday by Pope Francis, becoming only the second rock musician to walk the Earth as a living saint, after Val Doonican.

Rumours that Frankie wants him to do a 10-CD/Blu-ray concept album based on the New Testament, in 7.1 felatio sound and vision, are unfounded.
...

And now, it's time for the weather, with Snarky McPhistle & Doug The Dog...

Saturday, 13 January 2018

The Fierce And The Dead - Truck



2018 is an important year for Rushden exiles The Fierce And The Dead, as they have sunk everything into the hopeful and fully deserved success of their much anticipated new album, which will be with us as Spring puts its knickers on, makes a cup of tea, and returns as Summer.

The album launch gig in May in That London has sold out, the band are no doubt relieved to know, and here we have a little teaser of what is to come with their new single Truck.

You will be delighted to know I am not going to dissect it, as you can find out for yourself by watching the accompanying video below, that IT ROCKS!!! Be sure to turn it up to ornament-troubling levels.


Spot that riff that comes in, around 2:50?...heheh

Anyone wanting more of this huge sweaty band of renegades will find them tearing it up out there in Hackney on Saturday 3rd February, as part of an all-dayer under the heading 8 Days of Chaos. Info on this and other shenanigans in the links below.

Links:
The Fierce And The Dead
The Fierce And The Dead - Facebook
The Fierce Army - Facebook

Get the single HERE from 26th January - pay what you like...or not!
8 Days of Chaos

The MOJO CD - The Best of 2018

Here we are again, another year nearly gone by, another "Best of" CD to have fun with. They seem to come out earlier every yea...