The rumour mills have been swarming for months, and Simon Fuller's recent announcement has all but officially confirmed it.
I am loving it for many reasons. Of course, I am always eager to add new data points to my Everybody Reunites theory. When you've got Robbie Williams occasionally appearing on stage with a reunited Take That, then it's safe to say that Everybody reunites. Robbie also made up with longtime producer/collaborator Guy Chambers. Now it's the Spice Girls' turn.
The SG's were on my mind last week when I wrote that Robbie Williams was a great performer and a great artist despite not having a catalogue of great songs. In contrast, I thought, the SG's had nothing but great songs, and many outstanding singles. Their personalities and off stage antics far outstripped their actual on stage presence, but the songs were so great that it didn't matter if their dance routines weren't up to snuff, or that they did very little during big numbers other than run around spontaneously.
Is it time for the SG's to get their due? I expect that we'll see a recycling of all the old ridiculous critiques, such as 1) "Girl Power" is a stupid catchphrase (not true), 2) they're not the prettiest girls we've ever seen (so what? who cares?), 3) they're not the greatest singers in the world (neither are 99.9% of all pop stars), 4) they're manufactured (why does this matter?), 5) they rely on their producers to help write songs and shape their sound (as does every person working in music today ... with the rise to fame of Neptunes, Timbaland, the Matrix, and all the other production geniuses who are currently fawned over by both critics and casual fans, this silly and baseless SG criticism has been thoroughly debunked and discredited in the years since their breakup), 6) they're not good role models (most pop stars aren't, and I still maintain that the SG's emphasis on individualism did make them positive role models), and many more that I've long since forgotten.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Free Music
While slowly (and somewhat unenthusiastically) getting caught up with some of 2007's new releases, I've been putting a lot of listening time into some live gigs from around the internet.
Eluvium, April 2007. Eluvium (Matthew Cooper) is one of my most-listened-to artists of the year. But his anodyne new album "Copia" really doesn't prepare you for the shoegazey power of his recent live shows. Gentle, repetitious piano and guitar licks slowly rev their ways into huge roars, and that's a trick that never grows old on me. I've long since accepted the fact that the North American concert calendar is surviving quite fine without me, but missing out on the Explosions In the Sky/Eluvium double bill really hit me hard.
Kristin Hersh, "The Thin Man", May 2007 It was already the best track on her new album, but this gentle, slinky live take actually improves on the recorded version. Kristin's voice is totally shot these days, but she still sounds sexy as hell if confined to a whisper. You have to pick your spots with this gig, as things can turn to shit in record time due to her fading, raspy voice. The encore version of "Me and My Charms" is particularly depressing. She literally can't hit a single note during the chorus, exuding not much more than a pained, hissing croak.
Low, "When I Go Deaf", May 2007. Somehow I'd never noticed that some 50 Low gigs had piled up on the Live Music Archive. Even though they wimped out on the dinner party-friendly version of "Violent Past", they made up for it by closing the show with a sensational rip through "When I Go Deaf", a perfect ending for a "Great Destroyer" fanatic like me who thinks that Low are at their best when they play and sing with urgency and guts, as if they're about to suck their final breaths.
J Spaceman, "Anything More / Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space", November 2006. I'm picturing Jason Pierce on stage, running through what has to be the 3830th career reworking of "Walking With Jesus", not to mention reinventing nearly every other song in his live set yet again. More accurately, he overhauled and rearranged the entire contents of his live set from start to finish, punctuated it with a spate of fantastic new tunes, and brought "Let It Come Down" back into the fold (it's about time). And I have to remind myself that he nearly died not too long ago, but is now back on stage doing all the things I just mentioned, almost as if nothing had ever happened. Enough tears for now, save them for one of the many highlights of these recent acoustic shows, particularly "Anything More / Ladies and Gentlemen". Even after many listens, I can suspend my disbelief and not know the changeover is coming, and the segue is so heartbreaking that I still get a lump in my throat even when hearing it for the millionth time. Hearing the crowd roar in recognition and starting to sing along merely cinches it. Jason said he was a gospel artist all along, right back to the Spacemen 3 days. We didn't believe him, but check out what he's done with "Amen", for instance, and feel your stomach melt into goo during the wrenching finale of "Goodnight / Funeral Home".
Arcade Fire, "Windowsill", March 2007. "Neon Bible" (a near-perfectly sequenced album) brilliantly positioned this as its penultimate song, occurring one right near the end of the record's gradual buildup toward it's triumphant, concluding ode to escapism ("No Cars Go"). Obviously, I am assuming that the black eye that is "My Body Is a Cage" doesn't exist. So what a disappointment it is to hear such a flat, lifeless version of "Windowsill", wedged nondescriptly in the mid-set doldrums. Recorded during the same week that "Neon Bible" was released, it starts magnificently with "No Cars Go" (yeah, they've tacked the album's natural end to the set's beginning, but somehow it works) but grinds to a halt starting with, of all things, a Gainsbourg cover. "Windowsill" pops up in this middle third, and all this is reminding me of the time I saw American Music Club in 1994, when "I Broke My Promise" wound up as a victim of the mid-set blahs even though I'd pre-convinced myself that it would anchor the set due to (like with "Windowsill") its general awesomeness and similar placement toward the end of "San Francisco". Arcade Fire get their second wind with "Neighbourhoods #3" and suddenly, it's a great gig once again.
Robbie Williams, "Come Undone", Knebworth, August 2003. I'm reading Chris Heath's "Feel", so what better time to check out arguably the pinnacle of Robbie Williams' career. I'm not simply referring to the Knebworth gigs, but this specific performance. Witness Robbie on the verge of breaking down before, during, and after the song (although this happened countless times at Knebworth). Witness the most adoring, frantic, going apeshit-for-the-man's-every-move crowd you'll ever see. Witness 125 000 people singing along to the single that helped lead to collaborator Guy Chambers' departure from the Williams camp. just because he hated it so much and didn't want his name associated with it. Witness Robbie get to second base within seconds of bringing a girl on stage from the crowd.
Robbie is a lot like Iggy Pop. A survey of his career reveals plenty of good songs but few truly great ones. Nevertheless, he's such a great performer that it scarcely seems to matter. The key ingredient in Robbie and Iggy songs are Robbie and Iggy, the music itself is usually secondary. Same goes for the gigs -- music is simply a vehicle for getting people out to the shows to see the performer they paid their money to see. The similarities don't stop there. For the "Come Undone" video, Robbie recreated a wild LA party in a series of flashbacks, hired real porn stars and models for the shoot, and had scorpions and cockroaches crawling on their faces and out of their mouths. This makes Robbie more punk than ... well, anyone really.
Eluvium, April 2007. Eluvium (Matthew Cooper) is one of my most-listened-to artists of the year. But his anodyne new album "Copia" really doesn't prepare you for the shoegazey power of his recent live shows. Gentle, repetitious piano and guitar licks slowly rev their ways into huge roars, and that's a trick that never grows old on me. I've long since accepted the fact that the North American concert calendar is surviving quite fine without me, but missing out on the Explosions In the Sky/Eluvium double bill really hit me hard.
Kristin Hersh, "The Thin Man", May 2007 It was already the best track on her new album, but this gentle, slinky live take actually improves on the recorded version. Kristin's voice is totally shot these days, but she still sounds sexy as hell if confined to a whisper. You have to pick your spots with this gig, as things can turn to shit in record time due to her fading, raspy voice. The encore version of "Me and My Charms" is particularly depressing. She literally can't hit a single note during the chorus, exuding not much more than a pained, hissing croak.
Low, "When I Go Deaf", May 2007. Somehow I'd never noticed that some 50 Low gigs had piled up on the Live Music Archive. Even though they wimped out on the dinner party-friendly version of "Violent Past", they made up for it by closing the show with a sensational rip through "When I Go Deaf", a perfect ending for a "Great Destroyer" fanatic like me who thinks that Low are at their best when they play and sing with urgency and guts, as if they're about to suck their final breaths.
J Spaceman, "Anything More / Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space", November 2006. I'm picturing Jason Pierce on stage, running through what has to be the 3830th career reworking of "Walking With Jesus", not to mention reinventing nearly every other song in his live set yet again. More accurately, he overhauled and rearranged the entire contents of his live set from start to finish, punctuated it with a spate of fantastic new tunes, and brought "Let It Come Down" back into the fold (it's about time). And I have to remind myself that he nearly died not too long ago, but is now back on stage doing all the things I just mentioned, almost as if nothing had ever happened. Enough tears for now, save them for one of the many highlights of these recent acoustic shows, particularly "Anything More / Ladies and Gentlemen". Even after many listens, I can suspend my disbelief and not know the changeover is coming, and the segue is so heartbreaking that I still get a lump in my throat even when hearing it for the millionth time. Hearing the crowd roar in recognition and starting to sing along merely cinches it. Jason said he was a gospel artist all along, right back to the Spacemen 3 days. We didn't believe him, but check out what he's done with "Amen", for instance, and feel your stomach melt into goo during the wrenching finale of "Goodnight / Funeral Home".
Arcade Fire, "Windowsill", March 2007. "Neon Bible" (a near-perfectly sequenced album) brilliantly positioned this as its penultimate song, occurring one right near the end of the record's gradual buildup toward it's triumphant, concluding ode to escapism ("No Cars Go"). Obviously, I am assuming that the black eye that is "My Body Is a Cage" doesn't exist. So what a disappointment it is to hear such a flat, lifeless version of "Windowsill", wedged nondescriptly in the mid-set doldrums. Recorded during the same week that "Neon Bible" was released, it starts magnificently with "No Cars Go" (yeah, they've tacked the album's natural end to the set's beginning, but somehow it works) but grinds to a halt starting with, of all things, a Gainsbourg cover. "Windowsill" pops up in this middle third, and all this is reminding me of the time I saw American Music Club in 1994, when "I Broke My Promise" wound up as a victim of the mid-set blahs even though I'd pre-convinced myself that it would anchor the set due to (like with "Windowsill") its general awesomeness and similar placement toward the end of "San Francisco". Arcade Fire get their second wind with "Neighbourhoods #3" and suddenly, it's a great gig once again.
Robbie Williams, "Come Undone", Knebworth, August 2003. I'm reading Chris Heath's "Feel", so what better time to check out arguably the pinnacle of Robbie Williams' career. I'm not simply referring to the Knebworth gigs, but this specific performance. Witness Robbie on the verge of breaking down before, during, and after the song (although this happened countless times at Knebworth). Witness the most adoring, frantic, going apeshit-for-the-man's-every-move crowd you'll ever see. Witness 125 000 people singing along to the single that helped lead to collaborator Guy Chambers' departure from the Williams camp. just because he hated it so much and didn't want his name associated with it. Witness Robbie get to second base within seconds of bringing a girl on stage from the crowd.
Robbie is a lot like Iggy Pop. A survey of his career reveals plenty of good songs but few truly great ones. Nevertheless, he's such a great performer that it scarcely seems to matter. The key ingredient in Robbie and Iggy songs are Robbie and Iggy, the music itself is usually secondary. Same goes for the gigs -- music is simply a vehicle for getting people out to the shows to see the performer they paid their money to see. The similarities don't stop there. For the "Come Undone" video, Robbie recreated a wild LA party in a series of flashbacks, hired real porn stars and models for the shoot, and had scorpions and cockroaches crawling on their faces and out of their mouths. This makes Robbie more punk than ... well, anyone really.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Aimee Mann on "Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band"
Read it here.
This fun little op-ed has been making the rounds lately and not only did I enjoy it, but I agreed and/or empathized with a lot of what Aimee Mann has to say. Loving an album so much that you don't feel like ever hearing it again? Check. Coming to the realization, years later, that said album is heavily flawed and recognizing the connection between those flaws and one's sagging enthusiasm for it over the years? Check. "I’m ashamed to say it, but sometimes John Lennon’s melodies feel a bit underwritten, while Paul McCartney’s relentless cheerfulness is depressing". Oh hell yes, check. Like many concept albums, "Sgt Peppers" is a concept in search of great melodies, gonzo ideas in search of great music to carry it. It tried to let the weirdness carry the day and cover for the lack of decent tunes contained within, much like certain movies go overboard on special effects and explosions in order to cover up for the lack of a decent plot or compelling characters. The White Album is weird but is weird in so many different styles over such a gargantuan length that it succeeds through sheer force of willpower (provided you have the endurance and attention span for the bumpy ride, most people don't but I love sprawling messes done right which is probably why it's my favourite Beatles album). "Revolver" is weird but has great tunes, a lot more George Harrison than "Sgt Peppers", and a few touching/depressing bits, which is why the consensus has currently deemed it to be the best Beatles record.
Oh, and I believe that I also thought that The Lonely Hearts Club band was an actual band, back when I used to stare at the record cover in the basement of our old house.
This fun little op-ed has been making the rounds lately and not only did I enjoy it, but I agreed and/or empathized with a lot of what Aimee Mann has to say. Loving an album so much that you don't feel like ever hearing it again? Check. Coming to the realization, years later, that said album is heavily flawed and recognizing the connection between those flaws and one's sagging enthusiasm for it over the years? Check. "I’m ashamed to say it, but sometimes John Lennon’s melodies feel a bit underwritten, while Paul McCartney’s relentless cheerfulness is depressing". Oh hell yes, check. Like many concept albums, "Sgt Peppers" is a concept in search of great melodies, gonzo ideas in search of great music to carry it. It tried to let the weirdness carry the day and cover for the lack of decent tunes contained within, much like certain movies go overboard on special effects and explosions in order to cover up for the lack of a decent plot or compelling characters. The White Album is weird but is weird in so many different styles over such a gargantuan length that it succeeds through sheer force of willpower (provided you have the endurance and attention span for the bumpy ride, most people don't but I love sprawling messes done right which is probably why it's my favourite Beatles album). "Revolver" is weird but has great tunes, a lot more George Harrison than "Sgt Peppers", and a few touching/depressing bits, which is why the consensus has currently deemed it to be the best Beatles record.
Oh, and I believe that I also thought that The Lonely Hearts Club band was an actual band, back when I used to stare at the record cover in the basement of our old house.
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