Dead Meadow, Jennifer Gentle @Horseshoe

I found myself thinking about Bardo Pond a lot during this gig, even though BP don't sound much like either band (explanation: I like watching supersonically loud, sludgy guitar bands that can jam a little). Although BP come off as heroically stoned, whereas both of tonight's bands are grittier. But mainly, BP rely on fuzz and drone, while a band like Dead Meadow actually pick on their guitars and use the instrument for creating a melody rather than just a sound effect. Their closest kin are a band such the Warlocks, who also play sets of two bar mega-riff after two bar mega-riff. Although I have to say that I enjoyed the Warlocks more ... their songs had more boogie to them, more swagger and less sludge, and were played a lot louder (hello three guitar attack!).

(Je T'aime Moi Non Plus) X 20

As you might have expected from my post last week, I have moved ahead with due process and there are currently about 1 GB of Gainsbourg mp3's living on my hard drive. I'm trying to listen to the "Gainsbourg a Gainsbarre" box set chronologically. As I write this, I'm moving through the mid-60's (almost all of his pre-'66 work is new to me) and he's morphing from the jazz-pop and cha-cha-cha styles into the swinging 60's pop he became better known for (the yé-yé/bubblegum stuff that he wrote for other singers isn't on here -- just the stuff he performed himself) with a fascinating foray into world music along the way.

I also stumbled upon a compilation of "Je T'Aime Moi Non Plus" covers. Some are sincere and faithful to the mood of the original, such as the cinematic Barry Adamson and 101 Strings versions. It was incredibly weird listening to the Mick Harvey rendition because it's done in English. Harvey's albums of Gainsbourg covers are fairly well-regarded, in part due to his fine translations. Since French isn't my first language, I think I'm partly shielded from the lyrical content. Hearing it in English brings the song closer to home somehow -- it's the difference between watching a sex video and drilling a hole through the wall to peek in on the neighbours. Also, Mick Harvey's voice feels very dispassionate here (maybe it's the cadence of the English lyrics?) although his duet partner Anita Lane sounds ravishing.

Of course, any over the top love song with weepy strings and heavy breathing is ripe for ridicule as well. This leads to Judge Dread's "Lola"-channeling reggae version, Frankie Howerd and June Whitfield bickering old couple in bed version, and Gå Runt Show's demented Fraggle Rock version.

The Cibo Matto version is completely asexual (and therefore nearly unlistenable), while the Hot Butter and Electronic Concept Orchestra versions are very touching and bare no trace of any novelty value which might have been expected from them. But the best cover of them all wasn't even on this compilation. Rather, I happened upon it quite by accident -- a sleek, sexy, organ-driven two minute reggae rendition by Byron Lee and the Dragonaires!

Palatine

About a year ago, I sheepishly wrote that I had never heard The Cure's "Disintegration", despite having had every oppurtunity to do so, no possible excuses exist for this, etc. I also wrote that it was unlikely that such a situation could ever happen again, which I do still believe, but fortunately I stopped short of saying that "Disintegration" was the last of its breed ...

Right now, I'm listening to the "Palatine" box set, the 4CD retrospective of Factory records. It was released in 1991 and yet I never found a way to hear it (bleh, no excuses, I know). What's more, I'm hearing most of these songs for the first time, because I don't own any Factory albums that weren't by Joy Division/New Order or Happy Mondays (I suppose Electronic can be counted in the JD/NO camp. And Cabaret Voltaire won't count since they never released an album on Factory). Even more pathetic -- I've never even HEARD any Factory albums that weren't by the aforementioned groups. ACR, Section 25, Durutti Column -- nope, non, nein. I know, wtf. I've never heard Stockholm Monsters, but I clearly recall hearing the Wendys and Northside singles on the radio toward the end of Factory's life.

You know, many of the tracks on Disc 1 sound a lot like Joy Division, which isn't a big surprise due to Martin Hannett's distinct production style. I think I'll stop writing about this now lest I look even sillier for coming to these realizations some fifteen years too late.

The sound was off on the TV, tuned to a rerun of "Frasier". It was the episode where Niles wants to finally tell Daphne how he's felt about her for all those years, but before that happens, Donny ends up proposing to her right in front of Niles, Frasier and Martin. Donny went down on one knee, with the camera shot cutting between his lovelorn eyes and Niles' dejected face, and that's when "Love Will Tear Us Apart" came up on winamp.

Balanescu Quartet -- Possessed (1992)

I've been aware of this album for years, but heard it for the first time this past weekend. This album is usually mentioned for the five Kraftwerk covers, but the clear highlight is "No Time Before Time". Joy and tension mingle effortlessly in its main theme, and the piece soars from peak to peak with each repetition of it. Frankly, this is one of the most moving pieces of music I've heard in months. It's so enchanting that its eleven minutes feels like only two.

I wonder what a band like Do Make Say Think could do with it? They're at their best with sprawling epics like "Goodbye Enemy Airship" and "Ontario Plates", and I think this type of piece is perfectly suited to their talents.

Daft Punk -- the verdict?

Following up from this post, as the leaked album turned out to be the genuine item which has led to a preposterous form of apologism such as this Stylus review.

So basically, Daft Punk have made some good records (legendary ones in the eyes of some), therefore they clearly knew exactly what they were doing in crafting the new one into a piss-take and we should all work hard to try to get the joke.

Hey, some people actually LIKE minimal dance tracks, EBM, and raw-not-shiny-and-slick production.

Serge Gainsbourg -- A Fistful of Gitanes

This biography by Sylvie Simmons (one of the only Gainsbourg biographies written in English) was my airplane/hotel room reading for the past week. As far as biographies go, it is fairly brief (~ 140 pages), and is therefore light on character/musical analysis and criticism. Many events and people in his life aren't covered in great detail, which is something of a shame because the few times that Simmons does elaborate (i.e. life during wartime, the breakup of Serge and Jane) are the most poignant parts of the book. Nevertheless, it's an engaging page-turner and made me want to desperately hear almost all the music mentioned in it. When a piece of music writing can do that to you, then you haven't got much to complain about.

The final one-third of the book, in which Serge spends the last twelve years of his life essentially mourning Jane Birkin, is horrifically sad. Massive car crash/can see it coming/can't look away/etc. His descent into alcohol-soaked melancholy and years of longing, coupled with his glamourized suffering and gargantuan guilt trips struck me as a most Jewish trait. At several junctures in the book, she invoked the Slavic/Jewish clause in order to contextualize his behaviour, but strangely, did not during the post-separation years.

And regarding "Je T'Aime, Moi Non Plus", the Bardot version kills the Birkin version. Both the singing and the arrangement. "With Bardot he said 'It was a horrifying kind of copulation, which was, I believe, too much'". Nope. The Birkin duet is pretty, the Bardot duet smoulders.

Hamilton shoegaze invades Toronto

A Northern Chorus sounded exactly like I imagined they would. The sighing harmonies and latter day Slowdive haze from their albums were meticulously reconstructed before my eyes and ears. Very similar to the albums, except ... more.

I've now seen Sianspheric four times, and each time they look completely different. Chalk it up to my fading memory (this band has perfected the "extended hiatus") and/or genuine personnel changes that I've lost track of. This time around, they've shed a guitarist and stripped down to a vocalist plus a basic guitar/bass/drums setup, albeit one that still relies on a legion of FX pedals and makes a heck of a lot of noise. Adding to my "who are these guys?" confusion, they're suddenly a band that likes to talk to the audience and make trips to the bar between songs. And the audience perhaps contributed to the band's "who are these people?" confusion, seeing as two-thirds of the people there were cookie-cutter Drake Hotel yuppie-in-training clientele, the sort of people who can't be bothered to clap or acknowledge a band they supposedly like.

Tonight brought an inspired tour through the band's back catalog (new album plz, split with Toshack Highway = not enough), and the clear highlight came as the guitarists from ANC joined them for a gargantuan, anthemic version of "I Like the Ride".

Quick thoughts on YOUR final twelve on American Idol

1. This should be obvious to everyone who's been following the show -- unlike the other seasons, the guys are completely outclassing the girls this season. It's not even close. Nikko Smith, who was sadly booted this week (how can you not root for Ozzie Smith's son? You can't. Oh well) was better than half the girls who are left.
   
2. If I didn't know better, I could swear that Scott doesn't want to be there. He can certainly sing, but he looks sullen and grumpy ALL of the time. That's why I give him another two, three weeks at most.
   
3. Part of me really wants Bo or Constantine to win so that their debut (rock) single goes to number one in the US and ends Nickelback's reign of terror as the band that has the last (to date) #1 rock song in US chart history.
4. From this point forward, I'm incapable of commenting objectively about Jessica and Carrie's performances. This is because I'm in love with both of them. Mustering up my reserve ... for the last couple of weeks, Carrie hasn't the shown the sparkle that blew me away in the beginning. If this continues, and she turns out to be the female George Huff (great personality, winning smile, occasional flashes of brilliance, can't pull out the big performance when the chips are down), then expect her -- just like George did -- to finish fifth or sixth.
5. Half of the finalists are 25 or older, including five of the guys.
   
6. Now that Janay is gone, the new cat with nine lives is Lindsey.
7. Vonzell should have been expelled from the show immediately following her performance this week for her crimes against fashion humanity.
   
8. Anwar and Mario never seem to have a bad day. They're dangerous.
   
9. I'll go out on a limb and predict the final five: Bo, Jessica, Carrie, Mario, Anwar. If that comes to be, all five of them would be serious threats to win.
10. For further reading, the unoffical AI4 running blog is here.
    

Rhythm and Sound and Rhythm and Sound and Rhythm and Sound and ...

At the end of my week of 24/7 music listening last May, I stated that it was a positive experience, only minimally trying or disruptive, and was something I would consider doing again. I still stand by those comments, but in the months since then, I haven't felt the slightest urge to do that again. I have no aversion toward it, it's more of a "been there, done that" stance and next time I pull a music-related stunt, I want to test different waters.

The M-series worked well as individual singles, but once you throw nine indentical baselines onto a CD-compilation it becomes something of an endurance contest to get through it all in one sitting. The tracks on Rhythm and Sound's "See Mi Yah" have far less variation between them compared to the Maurizio tracks, but strung together they work far better as an album becuase every four minutes a new singer shows up and breathes new life into it. The rhythm never changes but the revolving door of vocalists keeps the album flowing from peak to peak to peak. Not to mention that the rhythm track is a coldhearted killer groove that I could listen to all day -- it's certainly the best thing they've done as Rhythm and Sound, and perhaps their best Berlin-Jamaica collaboration, period ("Acting Crazy" with Tikiman is the reason for the "perhaps" qualifier).

So, I'm going to take my statement literally. Not today, not tomorrow, but hopefully sometime this month, I am going to listen to "See Mi Yah" for an entire day. For 24 hours straight. And unlike the music 24/7 experiment, this time there will be no sleeping. I will be awake and functional for 24 hours, listening to "See Mi Yah" -- one rhythm, one bassline -- approximately 32 consecutive times.

Having an Audioscrobbler account has clued me into some of my personal listening statistics. When you're really into an album and are seemingly listening to it all of the time, it's probably not as often as you think. I feel as though I've heard the Go! Team album a million times over the last few months, but according to Audioscrobbler it's been maybe a dozen times (yes, I know that the plugin doesn't register once in a while, and Audioscrobbler's flaky statscounter might miss some plays, but even if I'm off by a factor of two -- which I'm not -- then it's still only 20-25 plays and my conclusions don't change). So, thirty plays of a single album are a lot of plays. I know that I didn't hear most of my Top Ten of 2004 more than thirty times before making that list, and with new release schedules always being weighted toward the last few months of any calendar year, I'm sure most critics and fans don't hear their favourite albums thirty times either before doing their year-in-review ballots/blurbs/essays.

Thus, I'll be charting some undiscovered (to me) and potentially dangerous waters. Will I go insane? Will I overdose on R&S and end up hating one of my most adored albums of recent months? That would be a shame. Will alcohol provide a help or a hinderance to the task at hand? Will I continue humming along for hours after the music stops and end up twitching on the floor and frothing at the mouth, Malcolm Mooney style?

To be continued ... someday.

Canadian Music Week Event @ Lee's Palace

aka "Rock and Roll isn't Dead in Toronto" :)

I last saw Lullabye Arkestra about two years ago, and since then they've cut down on the random, improvisatory noise and screaming and have turned into one hell of a pseudo-hardcore band.

Following them was Green Day. Oh, I mean The Downbelows.

Cuff the Duke offered a brief alt-country comedown from the more aggressive sounds of the bands preceeding them. Then they turned into a noise-prog band complete with bowed electric guitar and sounded 100X better for it.

Guitar Wolf's entrance music is the sound of a chainsaw on top of the first few tracks of The Ramones "Rocket To Russia". And that's Guitar Wolf in a nutshell. It all makes perfect sense now -- they are a duplicate version of the Ramones, minus the amphetamines and plus a few steroid shots. The "1 2 3 4!" intros, the leather jackets and sunglasses, each song sounding identical to all the others -- it's all there. Between all their amps approaching the legal distortion limits, barely a pause or volume reduction in the space between songs, the unrelenting accelerated tempos, and manic vigour of the band members, this is the most intense show of its kind I've seen since a Mayhem gig nearly four years ago.

More thoughts:

At one point, the guitarist scaled the speaker stack situated a few feet beyond stage left and leaped from it -- with guitar in hand -- to the stage below. It was reminiscent of Sting flying clothesline on Cactus Jack at Beach Blast 1992, in which he leaped from the top turnbuckle at one corner of the ring to the entrance ramp. Although Guitar Wolf's leap was more insane due to the low ceiling, the guitar/cargo, and more dangerous obstacles that needed to be avoided upon landing (stairs, drums, monitors, etc. And besides, Cactus Jack took almost all of the truly crazy risks in that match).

The encores were superfluous. When I saw Mayhem, they played like nuts for fifty minutes and we never saw them again. There's a limit to how much the performers can give and how much the audience can take when the music is so intense. Once Guitar Wolf had given us an hour of sweat and guts -- they should have never been seen again. In truth, they should probably play twenty minute sets like the Mary Chain used to. Sure, the Mary Chain became more accomplished songwriters and performers and chose to move on from that phase, but Guitar Wolf's whole shtick hinges on never growing out of that phase.

Playing with that much intensity goes a long way toward cancelling their reliance on rock and roll cliches (leather, Dionysian horns, screaming "ROCK AND ROLL" a lot, etc.).

During the intro to a cover of "Summertime Blues", Drum Wolf decided to comb his hair. I can't recall ever seeing a drummer comb his hair back during a song. Of course, his bass drum work continued throughout his grooming break. This was an impeccably cool moment.

During the last song of the main set, they dragged a guy from the audience up on stage. Guitar Wolf handed him the guitar and encouraged him to play it. The guy was clearly a nonplayer and was just goofing off running his hands everywhere along the guitar. And most of the time, the sound that came out was nearly indistinguishable from Guitar Wolf's playing. Granted, me and Mariah Carey would sound very similar if you filtered both of our voices through that much distortion. But hearing a complete neophyte play on this one song made me wonder whether Guitar Wolf are no-talent poseurs or dextrous geniuses who are somehow able to pull off seemingly basic tricks so convincingly. I'm 90% certain it's the latter.

Let's Talk About Detroit Grand Pubahs

One day, around the time that "Sandwiches" was tearing up dancefloors in Detroit (and elsewhere), I held the record in my hands, gave it a listen, and was unimpressed. At that time, I was suspicious of anything ressembling techno that had vocals on it. Vocals were taking up valuable sonic space that could have been used for an ear-splitting hi-hat. There was a reason that the likes of Sven Dedek, Kai Randy Michel, and Cari Lekebusch didn't have vocals on their records -- they were too harsh, too cranium busting, too dense for such things. Also, I wasn't sure how to handle anything electro-based. These were the days before I acquired scruffy, roughshod, ass-quaking electro records that meshed so well with both the stripped-down/minimal and the pounding/minimal stuff I liked so much. Months down the line, Sven Dedek eased off on the treble for the bootylicious (and sometimes hilarious) "Mo Money EP", but by that point, Pantytec's "Elastobabe" was already one of my favourite records. The vocalists had broken through my thick skull.

Well, I bought DGP's debut album "Funk All Y'All" a few weeks ago and have been catching up on the stuff I've missed/neglected. Their big ghettotech hit is just scratching the surface of the broad spectrum of styles featured here. The album flows like a mixtape or DJ set. It begins with guns blaring on the P-Funk-y title track, moves through lots of booty shaking and fratboy humour, the tracks gradually get more and more stripped down, and closes with "Rain", a track which could easily be mistaken for the minimal dub-techno of Berlin's Maurizio.

With tracks four and five, they go from the rump-quaking cartoonish "Sandwiches" straight into "After School Special", which is a mid-tempo electro track featuring the morose vocals of a pre-breakthrough Miss Kittin. It's easily the saddest song I've ever heard about pimping ho's. Somehow, this bizarre segue works spectacularly.