In the 1980's you couldn't help but be a fan of Prince unless you hated contemporary music altogether. He was a sensation on record, on stage, and on screen. He had countless proteges who swarmed the charts under his guidance. He even appeared in the least obvious places -- it was only today that I learned he played keyboards on Stevie Nicks' "Stand Back".
A run of the mill, good-to-great artist's influence can be measured by the number of imitators they help spawn. Those rules don't apply to the legends though. They don't have imitators because they're too good to imitate. Nobody can even come close to duplicating what they do, and most don't even bother trying. Prince had plenty of clones in the 80's but that was because he was writing their music for them.
The first album I ever bought was "Purple Rain". I can't say I was ever a huge fan of Prince -- others will write about him from a more personal perspective much better than I can. But I loved "Let's Go Crazy". I saw it as fun, chaotic, immediate party music. I didn't care much for "When Doves Cry" in those days, and wouldn't really appreciate it for another ten or fifteen years.
Many artists feed off their own myths, leaving even their most devoted fans to helplessly sort through the blurred lines separating fact from fiction. Aphex Twin is one of those artists, with an origin story similar to Prince's. Self taught boy genius spends years honing his craft in relative solitude, apparently oblivious to what his contemporaries are doing, emerges with a fully formed sound that's light years ahead of what others can manage, continues living as a semi-recluse even at the height of their fame, hidden behind masks and head scratching aliases. All the while they record prolifically and amass a catalogue of music (including god knows how many unreleased albums) that takes decades to fully sift through.
At some point the artist has no choice but to perpetuate the myth because so much of their identity is wrapped up in it. Aphex Twin had collaborators in the early days. He was influenced by plenty of artists that he wouldn't admit to in interviews during the 90's. After enough time has passed they sometimes let their guard down. If you're lucky, the stuff that was too good to be true remains true (Aphex did buy that tank in the 90's and IIRC, he still has it).
Will the real story of the famously private Prince ever be known? Will anybody dominate a decade the way he did in the 80's, as arguably the top multi-instrumentalist, producer, writer, and performer? Today, the likes of Max Martin or Pharrell can claim maybe two or those four. Even Prince's tossed off junk -- such as "Nothing Compares 2 U", written for The Family but never released as a single -- became mega-hits in the hands of other artists.
It's a shocking, far too sudden loss for the music world. "He will be missed" can't even begin to cover it. Like him or not, Prince is irreplaceable, and we'll never see the likes of him again.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
Animal Collective, "Painting With"
Mike Powell's review of "Painting With" for Pitchfork was a gut punch read for me. It's the rare review that hit home not only as a vivid description of the music contained within, but as a personal memoir told through dissipated fandom. For about three years, from 2005-2008, I may have listened to Animal Collective more than any other band. Was that really a decade ago? It already seems like it was a thousand years ago.
This story doesn't have a sad ending. There's nothing wrong with "Painting With" -- it's fun, bright, giddy, and bursting with unconventionally creative hooks. But something is missing. It doesn't move me in the least. The same was true of their last album, "Centipede Hz". Listen, it's no big deal, like Powell says, "fifteen years is longer than most bands last, let alone great ones". Animal Collective will be fine with their side projects and third from the top festival appearances for the foreseeable future. But they'll never be the era-defining band they threatened to be several years ago.
Then again, as I showed four years ago, the unexpected success of "Merriweather Post Pavillion" was an outlier that comes along maybe once every couple of decades. The likely fallout from that type of flukey success wasn't clear to me then, but in hindsight it couldn't be more obvious. Great bands often need a few albums to work out their M.O., and fans need time to grow into their favourite bands. After approximately 4-6 years and 3-5 albums, it all peaks. In the Animal Collective timeline, the hardcore fans had already become disillusioned with what the band had become. The newer fans saw them as just another media driven fad, a view that was reinforced when the hardcore fan base became bored and started imploding. By the end of 2009, MPP might have been the default top album of the year in many polls, but the writing was already on the wall. Listeners were way oversaturated with all things Animal Collective, and no group of fans had much motivation for carrying the torch through to the next album for the reasons I described.
This story doesn't have a sad ending. There's nothing wrong with "Painting With" -- it's fun, bright, giddy, and bursting with unconventionally creative hooks. But something is missing. It doesn't move me in the least. The same was true of their last album, "Centipede Hz". Listen, it's no big deal, like Powell says, "fifteen years is longer than most bands last, let alone great ones". Animal Collective will be fine with their side projects and third from the top festival appearances for the foreseeable future. But they'll never be the era-defining band they threatened to be several years ago.
Then again, as I showed four years ago, the unexpected success of "Merriweather Post Pavillion" was an outlier that comes along maybe once every couple of decades. The likely fallout from that type of flukey success wasn't clear to me then, but in hindsight it couldn't be more obvious. Great bands often need a few albums to work out their M.O., and fans need time to grow into their favourite bands. After approximately 4-6 years and 3-5 albums, it all peaks. In the Animal Collective timeline, the hardcore fans had already become disillusioned with what the band had become. The newer fans saw them as just another media driven fad, a view that was reinforced when the hardcore fan base became bored and started imploding. By the end of 2009, MPP might have been the default top album of the year in many polls, but the writing was already on the wall. Listeners were way oversaturated with all things Animal Collective, and no group of fans had much motivation for carrying the torch through to the next album for the reasons I described.
Monday, April 11, 2016
The NYT can't be bothered with Coachella this year
Explained.
Translated:
-- Happenings at the most successful music festivals in the country apparently don't count as "news" anymore.
-- Bonaroo and Coachella and their like are social events, not musical events, and therefore aren't worth a music critic's time.
-- "Instead of covering the biggest festivals reflexively, we'll cover a number of smaller festivals with purpose" is the snobbiest sentence of music "criticism" you'll read this year.
Imagine if journalists in other fields were this aloof? The Superbowl has become so successful that it is no longer special. It's not even about football, it's a social event that revolves around prop bets, TV ad campaigns, and a glitzy, jingoistic halftime show. Instead of covering the Superbowl, we'll cover a number of high school football games with a purpose. In the best interests of football, of course. We love the game more than anyone!
I guess this is what happens when almost all the other daily papers have died off. Once the competition has gone out of business and there's nobody else around to cover the real news, you get to decide for yourself what counts as newsworthy. Narrative has replaced news, you say? Whatchu gonna do about it? Compete with us?
It's not about gaining a better understanding of an artist or contextualizing a subculture, obviously a live report from a festival isn't the best way to do that. But writing about music isn't, and shouldn't be a continual search for a greater meaning to the art form. In 1995, Jarvis Cocker sang "is this the way they say the future's meant to feel? Or just twenty thousand people standing in a field?" Pulp knew that most of the time, it's the latter, no more and no less. And that's OK.
Musicians are more dependent than ever before on building a loyal fanbase that will support their art through regular touring. The steady income provided by the festival circuit is a key cog in the economic engine that lets successful acts continue to be successful and to keep making great music. It's a shame that the NYT no longer finds that compelling.
Translated:
-- Happenings at the most successful music festivals in the country apparently don't count as "news" anymore.
-- Bonaroo and Coachella and their like are social events, not musical events, and therefore aren't worth a music critic's time.
-- "Instead of covering the biggest festivals reflexively, we'll cover a number of smaller festivals with purpose" is the snobbiest sentence of music "criticism" you'll read this year.
Imagine if journalists in other fields were this aloof? The Superbowl has become so successful that it is no longer special. It's not even about football, it's a social event that revolves around prop bets, TV ad campaigns, and a glitzy, jingoistic halftime show. Instead of covering the Superbowl, we'll cover a number of high school football games with a purpose. In the best interests of football, of course. We love the game more than anyone!
I guess this is what happens when almost all the other daily papers have died off. Once the competition has gone out of business and there's nobody else around to cover the real news, you get to decide for yourself what counts as newsworthy. Narrative has replaced news, you say? Whatchu gonna do about it? Compete with us?
It's not about gaining a better understanding of an artist or contextualizing a subculture, obviously a live report from a festival isn't the best way to do that. But writing about music isn't, and shouldn't be a continual search for a greater meaning to the art form. In 1995, Jarvis Cocker sang "is this the way they say the future's meant to feel? Or just twenty thousand people standing in a field?" Pulp knew that most of the time, it's the latter, no more and no less. And that's OK.
Musicians are more dependent than ever before on building a loyal fanbase that will support their art through regular touring. The steady income provided by the festival circuit is a key cog in the economic engine that lets successful acts continue to be successful and to keep making great music. It's a shame that the NYT no longer finds that compelling.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
The Billboard Power 100
This list was published about a month ago, so this is a bit of an old story. I've been browsing through it from time to time and there is a lot to process. Here are a few random thoughts:
-- Everyone in the top 10 is male, and there are just five women in the top 50.
-- The "I want to fuck you like an animal" guy is the third most powerful person in music as part of a digital sales and streaming conglomerate. Happiness in slavery indeed!
-- Lucian Grainge, the CEO of UMG, the most dominant music company in the history of the business, and the most powerful person in music according to this ranking, sees himself and his company as underdogs. No really, he said it!
-- About half of the top ten are in the live music promotion and management side of the business. That seems about right.
-- The teen pop svengalis like Scooter Braun and agents to the megastars like Jonathan Dickins (Adele's manager) start showing up in the 30's. These are the people filling the classic, old school management roles, whose job is to make their clients as famous as possible. None of them make excuses about being underdogs and having to take on multimedia empires and navigate labyrinthian revenue streams to make a living. Maybe because nobody wants to hear stars and their managers complain about how hard it is to become famous, so they learn to shut up and deal and exude confidence at all times. But in the upper strata of the list, a good many execs seem to want genius credit for diversifying their business model. Like in the good old days we could sell millions of CD's and artists could sit at home and make videos, but now we (reluctantly) have to do so much more to make our millions. Perhaps this is where the underdog mentality comes in -- they've had to leave their comfort zones and adapt in ways that two generations of predecessors haven't, and they see themselves as playing with a disadvantage because of it.
-- Everyone in the top 10 is male, and there are just five women in the top 50.
-- The "I want to fuck you like an animal" guy is the third most powerful person in music as part of a digital sales and streaming conglomerate. Happiness in slavery indeed!
-- Lucian Grainge, the CEO of UMG, the most dominant music company in the history of the business, and the most powerful person in music according to this ranking, sees himself and his company as underdogs. No really, he said it!
-- About half of the top ten are in the live music promotion and management side of the business. That seems about right.
-- The teen pop svengalis like Scooter Braun and agents to the megastars like Jonathan Dickins (Adele's manager) start showing up in the 30's. These are the people filling the classic, old school management roles, whose job is to make their clients as famous as possible. None of them make excuses about being underdogs and having to take on multimedia empires and navigate labyrinthian revenue streams to make a living. Maybe because nobody wants to hear stars and their managers complain about how hard it is to become famous, so they learn to shut up and deal and exude confidence at all times. But in the upper strata of the list, a good many execs seem to want genius credit for diversifying their business model. Like in the good old days we could sell millions of CD's and artists could sit at home and make videos, but now we (reluctantly) have to do so much more to make our millions. Perhaps this is where the underdog mentality comes in -- they've had to leave their comfort zones and adapt in ways that two generations of predecessors haven't, and they see themselves as playing with a disadvantage because of it.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Diary of Musical Thoughts Podcast Episode 29
"UFO tribute mix, 74 minutes"
This isn't a tribute to unidentified flying objects, or anything mysterious or supernatural, rather, it's a mix that was inspired by this record that I bought over 25 years ago.
The track on the B-side of the single is called "It Must Be Obvious (UFO Mix)", and for some reason it popped into my head for no discernible reason several months ago. It's a strange and curious remix no doubt, and can be heard here. It straddles a line between the cut and paste chaos of "Revolution 9" and the hazy weirdness of KLF's "Chill Out". There's an incidental connection at best to the Pet Shop Boys song that is nominally being remixed. A short snippet of the song appears at the beginning, halfway lost in a haze of buried voice samples, as if stuck between two imprecisely tuned radio stations. Six minutes of wildness later, the original song reappears. The Pet Shop Boys are essentially irrelevant to the story, it could be almost any song bookending the middle part of the track.
It has never been one of my favourite remixes, but it's always been a memorable one. I could say the same about the KLF's "Chill Out" -- the concept is better than the results, which makes it a memorable and enjoyable album, if not necessarily a great one.
This mix was meant to be a stylistic cousin to that 25 years old (!!) UFO mix, stretched from nine minutes across more than an hour of ambient noodling and crackles of noise and static.
This isn't a tribute to unidentified flying objects, or anything mysterious or supernatural, rather, it's a mix that was inspired by this record that I bought over 25 years ago.
The track on the B-side of the single is called "It Must Be Obvious (UFO Mix)", and for some reason it popped into my head for no discernible reason several months ago. It's a strange and curious remix no doubt, and can be heard here. It straddles a line between the cut and paste chaos of "Revolution 9" and the hazy weirdness of KLF's "Chill Out". There's an incidental connection at best to the Pet Shop Boys song that is nominally being remixed. A short snippet of the song appears at the beginning, halfway lost in a haze of buried voice samples, as if stuck between two imprecisely tuned radio stations. Six minutes of wildness later, the original song reappears. The Pet Shop Boys are essentially irrelevant to the story, it could be almost any song bookending the middle part of the track.
It has never been one of my favourite remixes, but it's always been a memorable one. I could say the same about the KLF's "Chill Out" -- the concept is better than the results, which makes it a memorable and enjoyable album, if not necessarily a great one.
This mix was meant to be a stylistic cousin to that 25 years old (!!) UFO mix, stretched from nine minutes across more than an hour of ambient noodling and crackles of noise and static.
Saturday, March 05, 2016
D. Glare, "68 Samples at 68 BPM for Phased Heads"; Damaskin, "Our Shadows Will Walk"
Two awesome new releases by two acts I know almost nothing about ...
In terms of a record delivering on the promise of its title, this debut (?) album by D. Glare is about the best example of truth in advertising that you'll find. Schwarz/Ame/Dixon's "The Grandfather Paradox" mix is an obvious touchstone, but I'm hard pressed to think of another example of album that takes such a seemingly random assortment of source material and transforms into an unexpectedly rhythmic whole. The early going focuses on looped drones and snippets of electroacoustic music, gradually transforming itself into percussion-led passages that have a snowball's chance of moving a dancefloor despite the watery bass thuds and pinging, scattershot vocal samples. It takes a long time to reach this point -- about 15 minutes -- and an equally long time to wind down into something vaguely approaching a free jazz-reggae fusion with shimmerings of flute and other uncategorizable noises. And yet the entire 36 minute run time of the piece seems to fly right by.
The second track, "Improvisations in Phase", ditches most of the insistent rhythmic elements of the first and evolves in a more free flowing way (again, as the title suggests). It's generally noisier and more difficult to chew on, but its lo-fi, enveloping sounds maintain a clear consistency of purpose that runs throughout the entire album.
-------------------------------------------------
I've long been a fan of the Electric Deluxe Podcast for its consistency in posting mixes that mine the links between noise music and rugged, industrial techno. That combination is very difficult to find in an album though. That's partly a format issue -- DJ's who spin vinyl want club-ready recordings, not albums half-filled with beatless music that isn't worth lugging on planes and to the clubs.
Damaskin's second album contains one side of the most punishing, brutal techno you'll hear this year, and one side of brain melting, pulsing, maximalist electronic drone music. He solves the schizophrenia issue by literally separating the two on opposite sides of a limited edition cassette release. You can listen to either the noise side or the techno side as complete, standalone wholes, or mash them together in a longer listening session as I frequently do (both with this particular album and with these styles of music in general). I'm hard pressed to pick out highlights because the whole album is so damned good, but I'm partial to "1916" and "We Want Truth" on the techno side (still maintaining some wisps of melodic techno before the rest of the side careens into a more industrial, metallic crunch of rhythmic noise) and the low wail growing into exploding feedback of the 13-minute "Repetitive Transformation" on the noise side.
In terms of a record delivering on the promise of its title, this debut (?) album by D. Glare is about the best example of truth in advertising that you'll find. Schwarz/Ame/Dixon's "The Grandfather Paradox" mix is an obvious touchstone, but I'm hard pressed to think of another example of album that takes such a seemingly random assortment of source material and transforms into an unexpectedly rhythmic whole. The early going focuses on looped drones and snippets of electroacoustic music, gradually transforming itself into percussion-led passages that have a snowball's chance of moving a dancefloor despite the watery bass thuds and pinging, scattershot vocal samples. It takes a long time to reach this point -- about 15 minutes -- and an equally long time to wind down into something vaguely approaching a free jazz-reggae fusion with shimmerings of flute and other uncategorizable noises. And yet the entire 36 minute run time of the piece seems to fly right by.
The second track, "Improvisations in Phase", ditches most of the insistent rhythmic elements of the first and evolves in a more free flowing way (again, as the title suggests). It's generally noisier and more difficult to chew on, but its lo-fi, enveloping sounds maintain a clear consistency of purpose that runs throughout the entire album.
-------------------------------------------------
I've long been a fan of the Electric Deluxe Podcast for its consistency in posting mixes that mine the links between noise music and rugged, industrial techno. That combination is very difficult to find in an album though. That's partly a format issue -- DJ's who spin vinyl want club-ready recordings, not albums half-filled with beatless music that isn't worth lugging on planes and to the clubs.
Damaskin's second album contains one side of the most punishing, brutal techno you'll hear this year, and one side of brain melting, pulsing, maximalist electronic drone music. He solves the schizophrenia issue by literally separating the two on opposite sides of a limited edition cassette release. You can listen to either the noise side or the techno side as complete, standalone wholes, or mash them together in a longer listening session as I frequently do (both with this particular album and with these styles of music in general). I'm hard pressed to pick out highlights because the whole album is so damned good, but I'm partial to "1916" and "We Want Truth" on the techno side (still maintaining some wisps of melodic techno before the rest of the side careens into a more industrial, metallic crunch of rhythmic noise) and the low wail growing into exploding feedback of the 13-minute "Repetitive Transformation" on the noise side.
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Three great articles from the past week
Neil Shah examined the global appeal of metal for the WSJ, which is one of the last places you'd expect to read such an article. It provides a general overview of the astonishing global spread of the genre and highlights the leading bands in a number of exotic locales. Unfortunately it's light on analysis of the whys behind metal's global reach, beyond a single paragraph about how metal can transcend language barriers because of the emphasis on the timbre of the vocals, rather than the meaning of the lyrics.
He does note that metal scenes don't develop on the cheap, in fact, they are often linked to economic booms in the area. Metal is more closely linked to lifestyle that most other genres -- those clothes, music, and merch don't come cheap. And when you're in, you're all in. I don't know very many casual metal fans.
The most amazing thing to me about the global spread of metal is that it's transcended race and religion almost completely. This isn't addressed at all in the article. Shah notes that metal is often the domain of rebellion and the political left, which has helped it to find a following in so many different countries. But hip-hop is also about addressing the "real" issues on the streets and giving voices to the voiceless and all that, and I don't think hip-hop has traveled nearly as well as metal (although I could be wrong). But metal, which is strongly rooted in (let's face it) the culture of Norwegian white supremacists, has been adopted by countless cultures that many of metal's pioneers would have found revolting. It's almost as if the Nazis or the KKK had been music pioneers and future generations decided to not allow their heroes' racism to inconvenience their enjoyment of the music. It's a fascinating dichotomy that I sometimes see getting discussed online, but have yet to see a consistent, definitive take on the issue.
Jes Skolnik's short history of police boycotts of musicians (for Pitchfork) was a unique and well-thought out piece. The gist is that the police occasionally overreact and decide to boycott people, but nothing ever comes of it because they always back down. I didn't understand the connections to US presidential elections though. First of all, election cycles are so long in the US that you easily link any issue to a state or federal election anywhere at any time. Second, what exactly is supposed to be the connection between the police boycotts and political action, beyond simple coincidence? Is it implied that the police pick and choose their spots to pressure certain politicians? If so, then who? Have these actions ever decicisvely swung even a single election, even on a municipal level?
Finally, Ned Raggett's primer on the Cocteau Twins for the Guardian might be the best intro to the band I've ever read, and his ten track playlist even contains four or five of my all-time favourite Cocteau Twins tracks. His piece has received a ton of praise, even from former Cocteaus band members.
The Cocteau Twins might be the ultimate "sounding better with age" bands, and one of the most inimitable. Most great bands have very faithful imitators, both good and bad, but I've yet to hear any band that came close to reproducing the sounds and atmospheres of the Cocteau Twins. By now I think everyone has given up trying.
He does note that metal scenes don't develop on the cheap, in fact, they are often linked to economic booms in the area. Metal is more closely linked to lifestyle that most other genres -- those clothes, music, and merch don't come cheap. And when you're in, you're all in. I don't know very many casual metal fans.
The most amazing thing to me about the global spread of metal is that it's transcended race and religion almost completely. This isn't addressed at all in the article. Shah notes that metal is often the domain of rebellion and the political left, which has helped it to find a following in so many different countries. But hip-hop is also about addressing the "real" issues on the streets and giving voices to the voiceless and all that, and I don't think hip-hop has traveled nearly as well as metal (although I could be wrong). But metal, which is strongly rooted in (let's face it) the culture of Norwegian white supremacists, has been adopted by countless cultures that many of metal's pioneers would have found revolting. It's almost as if the Nazis or the KKK had been music pioneers and future generations decided to not allow their heroes' racism to inconvenience their enjoyment of the music. It's a fascinating dichotomy that I sometimes see getting discussed online, but have yet to see a consistent, definitive take on the issue.
Jes Skolnik's short history of police boycotts of musicians (for Pitchfork) was a unique and well-thought out piece. The gist is that the police occasionally overreact and decide to boycott people, but nothing ever comes of it because they always back down. I didn't understand the connections to US presidential elections though. First of all, election cycles are so long in the US that you easily link any issue to a state or federal election anywhere at any time. Second, what exactly is supposed to be the connection between the police boycotts and political action, beyond simple coincidence? Is it implied that the police pick and choose their spots to pressure certain politicians? If so, then who? Have these actions ever decicisvely swung even a single election, even on a municipal level?
Finally, Ned Raggett's primer on the Cocteau Twins for the Guardian might be the best intro to the band I've ever read, and his ten track playlist even contains four or five of my all-time favourite Cocteau Twins tracks. His piece has received a ton of praise, even from former Cocteaus band members.
The Cocteau Twins might be the ultimate "sounding better with age" bands, and one of the most inimitable. Most great bands have very faithful imitators, both good and bad, but I've yet to hear any band that came close to reproducing the sounds and atmospheres of the Cocteau Twins. By now I think everyone has given up trying.
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Where has all the nuclear war gone?
Listening to JD Twitch's excellent "Nuclear War" mix over the weekend got me thinking about how the fusing of music and politics has changed since the 1980's.
Beyonce's "Formation" has been fiercely debated online and in countless critical assessments, with the reactions split between "finally, it's about time Beyonce added a explicitly political, confrontational element to her music!" and "who does Beyonce think she is by jumping on this political bandwagon?"
Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Two Tribes" (one of the songs featured in Twitch's mix) was a gigantic hit in the UK, spending nine weeks at number one. Its equally iconic music video is one of the best of the 80's. There's a tendency to look down one's nose at the 80's (I don't, but others certainly do) as the selfish "me" decade with its slavish decadence and laughable hairstyles. As in, people sure were dumb to be duped by all that flag waving, Cold War propaganda -- thanks to new technologies, the flow of information is less controlled and our bullshit filters are stronger. A generation ago we were sheep, now we have the tools to be more analytical, more cynical. And yet, it's impossible to think of a phenomenon like "Two Tribes" happening today. Can you imagine a hit pop song today about nuclear deals and/or confrontations with Iran or North Korea? (incidentally, "Two Tribes" was a chart topping hit in the UK and a number of European countries, but only reached #43 in the US. This can be Exhibit A if you ever need to elaborate on the oft-repeated claim that Americans don't understand irony)
Sure, every generation in music has its touchstone issues. Nuclear war was a hot topic in the 80's but different issues take precedence these days, and that's fine. Still, even after all these years and countless "Two Tribes" listens, it's almost shocking to hear a pop megahit that so boldly mocks major world leaders, that is something that doesn't happen anymore. In 2016, we should be more accepting of bold statements by major names in music, but instead, I see a stronger division among critics between artists who should be "allowed" to be political and those who shouldn't. I don't see where people get off trying to disqualify Beyonce for not having the proper "credentials" to make a statement like "Formation".
Social media has lead to a democratization of celebrities that in this instance, is far from a positive. It's not like Holly Johnson had a degree in international relations that qualified him to write "Two Tribes", but at the time, people were more content to leave the art to the artists. Now, we can maintain the illusion that musicians are exactly like us because we assume we can get close to them via their Twitter feeds. So why are they any more qualified to speak out about racism or nuclear war than we are?
Beyonce's "Formation" has been fiercely debated online and in countless critical assessments, with the reactions split between "finally, it's about time Beyonce added a explicitly political, confrontational element to her music!" and "who does Beyonce think she is by jumping on this political bandwagon?"
Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Two Tribes" (one of the songs featured in Twitch's mix) was a gigantic hit in the UK, spending nine weeks at number one. Its equally iconic music video is one of the best of the 80's. There's a tendency to look down one's nose at the 80's (I don't, but others certainly do) as the selfish "me" decade with its slavish decadence and laughable hairstyles. As in, people sure were dumb to be duped by all that flag waving, Cold War propaganda -- thanks to new technologies, the flow of information is less controlled and our bullshit filters are stronger. A generation ago we were sheep, now we have the tools to be more analytical, more cynical. And yet, it's impossible to think of a phenomenon like "Two Tribes" happening today. Can you imagine a hit pop song today about nuclear deals and/or confrontations with Iran or North Korea? (incidentally, "Two Tribes" was a chart topping hit in the UK and a number of European countries, but only reached #43 in the US. This can be Exhibit A if you ever need to elaborate on the oft-repeated claim that Americans don't understand irony)
Sure, every generation in music has its touchstone issues. Nuclear war was a hot topic in the 80's but different issues take precedence these days, and that's fine. Still, even after all these years and countless "Two Tribes" listens, it's almost shocking to hear a pop megahit that so boldly mocks major world leaders, that is something that doesn't happen anymore. In 2016, we should be more accepting of bold statements by major names in music, but instead, I see a stronger division among critics between artists who should be "allowed" to be political and those who shouldn't. I don't see where people get off trying to disqualify Beyonce for not having the proper "credentials" to make a statement like "Formation".
Social media has lead to a democratization of celebrities that in this instance, is far from a positive. It's not like Holly Johnson had a degree in international relations that qualified him to write "Two Tribes", but at the time, people were more content to leave the art to the artists. Now, we can maintain the illusion that musicians are exactly like us because we assume we can get close to them via their Twitter feeds. So why are they any more qualified to speak out about racism or nuclear war than we are?
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Diary of Musical Thoughts Podcast Episode 28
"Rebuttal of FACT Focus 6 - Stereolab", 90 minutes
"Episodes of FACT Focus focus on a specific artist, label, scene, or sound". That's FACT's mission statement for this relatively new mix series, and that description actually makes it sound less exciting than the reality. Six episodes in, it's been one of the most adventurous mix series around, eschewing all the obvious artists and safe trends. Episode 6 was a 2.5 hour journey into the deepest depths of Stereolab's catalogue, impeccably sequenced and with outstanding track selection. It also made me a little bit mad.
Most overviews of Stereolab tend to focus on a style that I once referred to as "outer space science pop with cooing French lyrics". This became their signature sound sometime around "Dots and Loops", which is now regarded as one of their very best albums for reasons that I've never fully understood. This was a time when John McEntire was their go-to producer and everything started sounding a bit too clean and shiny for my taste. I've been meaning to revisit all of Stereolab's post-2000 work for a while now, on one hand they settled into a fairly nonadventurous homogeneity during their final decade but on the other hand some stuff was underappreciated and seems to get better with age (e.g. "Sound Dust"). Hopefully that's a post for another time.
Anyhow, the problem with Jon Dale's Stereolab mix for FACT is that it almost completely ignores the loud, two chord, Velvet-y droning, Krautrock-obsessed, endlessly repetitive style that is MY favourite style associated with Stereolab. It's the style they were known for when they started out and that dominated a majority of their recordings for the first four or five years of their career. I get that albums like "Mars Audiac Quintet" aren't for everyone -- the same Krautrock boogie played 15 different ways -- but this was the version of the band that I idolized and played to death in the 90's. And so I made my own Stereolab focus mix, a rebuttal of sorts to the FACT Focus mix.
Here I present ninety minutes of a different side of Stereolab, one that's necessarily slanted toward their early years, but I tried to spread things around as best I could. Some of my all-time 'Lab favourites are here, but it's not a personal all-time top ten or anything. This is meant to be an overview of a style, in the spirit of the FACT Focus series, not an excuse to cram all of my favourites onto a single mix.
Think of it as a companion piece to the FACT mix. Put together, you have four hours of Stereolab that hardly feels like we're scratching the surface -- hardly any singles are represented, for instance! And if you're looking for connections between the two styles, anyone who saw Stereolab play live knows that they only sounded soft on studio recordings. Right up until the end, they were a groovemaking machine that rocked out on stage into infinity, as some of the live cuts and radio sessions on this mix will show (Tracks 8,10,11, and 13 are live radio sessions, tracks 12 and 14 are in concert).
(note: to avoid possible flagging of this mix, I altered the artist name in the track listing in a few places. Don't worry, it's all Stereolab.)
"Episodes of FACT Focus focus on a specific artist, label, scene, or sound". That's FACT's mission statement for this relatively new mix series, and that description actually makes it sound less exciting than the reality. Six episodes in, it's been one of the most adventurous mix series around, eschewing all the obvious artists and safe trends. Episode 6 was a 2.5 hour journey into the deepest depths of Stereolab's catalogue, impeccably sequenced and with outstanding track selection. It also made me a little bit mad.
Most overviews of Stereolab tend to focus on a style that I once referred to as "outer space science pop with cooing French lyrics". This became their signature sound sometime around "Dots and Loops", which is now regarded as one of their very best albums for reasons that I've never fully understood. This was a time when John McEntire was their go-to producer and everything started sounding a bit too clean and shiny for my taste. I've been meaning to revisit all of Stereolab's post-2000 work for a while now, on one hand they settled into a fairly nonadventurous homogeneity during their final decade but on the other hand some stuff was underappreciated and seems to get better with age (e.g. "Sound Dust"). Hopefully that's a post for another time.
Anyhow, the problem with Jon Dale's Stereolab mix for FACT is that it almost completely ignores the loud, two chord, Velvet-y droning, Krautrock-obsessed, endlessly repetitive style that is MY favourite style associated with Stereolab. It's the style they were known for when they started out and that dominated a majority of their recordings for the first four or five years of their career. I get that albums like "Mars Audiac Quintet" aren't for everyone -- the same Krautrock boogie played 15 different ways -- but this was the version of the band that I idolized and played to death in the 90's. And so I made my own Stereolab focus mix, a rebuttal of sorts to the FACT Focus mix.
Here I present ninety minutes of a different side of Stereolab, one that's necessarily slanted toward their early years, but I tried to spread things around as best I could. Some of my all-time 'Lab favourites are here, but it's not a personal all-time top ten or anything. This is meant to be an overview of a style, in the spirit of the FACT Focus series, not an excuse to cram all of my favourites onto a single mix.
Think of it as a companion piece to the FACT mix. Put together, you have four hours of Stereolab that hardly feels like we're scratching the surface -- hardly any singles are represented, for instance! And if you're looking for connections between the two styles, anyone who saw Stereolab play live knows that they only sounded soft on studio recordings. Right up until the end, they were a groovemaking machine that rocked out on stage into infinity, as some of the live cuts and radio sessions on this mix will show (Tracks 8,10,11, and 13 are live radio sessions, tracks 12 and 14 are in concert).
(note: to avoid possible flagging of this mix, I altered the artist name in the track listing in a few places. Don't worry, it's all Stereolab.)
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Reviewing every David Bowie live album
Two years ago, I paid tribute to Lou Reed by reviewing all of his live albums in the wake of his death. Needless to say, David Bowie is more than deserving of a similar honour.
But whereas with Reed I was already familiar with parts of his live catalogue, heading into this project I have not, to the best of my knowledge, heard a note of music from any of these albums. In fact, I've neither seen nor heard hardly any live Bowie -- besides the famous Live Aid performance and a bootleg from Glastonbury 2000 (which is fantastic) I can't recall a single thing off the top of my head (does the Bing Crosby TV appearance count?)*. I'll be listening in chronological order of each album's first release (not the very different order in which they were recorded), although in some cases I'll be substituting the expanded re-release for the original.
* Oh, there is a 45-minute documentary of Bowie and Massive Attack in Israel in 1996 -- how about that for a double bill? -- that includes a few live songs. I discovered it on Youtube the day after Bowie's death, but since then, it seems as though Israel Channel 2 have forced it off the internet. Here's a short clip.
David Live (1974) (2005 re-release)
This album has plenty of obstacles to overcome. It was during one of Bowie's "drugged out of his mind" phases, so even though he a gives perfectly serviceable performance, it's almost totally lacking in passion and conviction. That's a serious problem for an artist trying to transition away from glam rock and into what he claimed was soul music. The same can be said of his backing band. In place of a kindred soul like Mick Ronson who intuitively understood the Bowie aesthetic, here he brings a slick, professional outfit that is there to provide steady backup to Bowie but nothing more. If the singer could carry the show on the strength of his charisma then that might be sufficient, but unfortunately that is far from the case here.
Songs like "Changes" and especially "Suffragette City" should be ramshackle and slightly unhinged, instead they become "Bowie: the Musical"-style supper club entertainment with ample layers of squawking (overdubbed) sax. But as the album goes on, oddly enough, the style starts to work in a number of places, for example, with "All the Young Dudes" which for me has always been a Broadway-ready piece thanks to its dramatic and endlessly croonable chorus. "Rock and Roll With Me" has a raw, freestyling feel with a pronounced gospel streak that anticipates what Spiritualized would do nearly thirty years later beginning with "Amazing Grace". And of course, there's "Diamond Dogs", which was supposed to be a half glam, half Philly soul track in the first place.
Unfortunately, the album peaks around "Diamond Dogs"/"Panic In Detroit", before he digs into the meat of the "Diamond Dogs" album. That middle forty or so minutes out of the 100-minute slog is wonderful, and there's just enough good to outweigh the bad overall, but I wouldn't call this an essential live document or anything. 5.5/10
Stage (1978) (2005 re-release)
Even two songs in, this album blows away nearly everything on "David Live". "Stage" was heavily criticized at the time for being too "clean" (i.e. a soundboard recording with very little crowd noise) and sticking too close to the album arrangements. I didn't know that excess crowd noise was considered a must in 70's live recordings, so let's just dismiss that line of criticism. As for the arrangements, I think people weren't used to hearing seven minute instrumental pieces on recordings, so we can chalk it up to Bowie being so far ahead of the curve in his Berlin period. There are plenty of fascinating arrangements here besides the general increase in tempos. The squalls of guitar noise in the final minute and coda of "Beauty and the Beast" is just one example. The entire "Ziggy Stardust" section that begins disc 2 is another. Those songs lose much of their glam hedonism and take on a more sinister tone with Bowie's new band. "Ziggy Stardust" is a song (and album) about the dangers of rock and roll excess and the "Stage" recordings are played with a subtle restraint that communicates that message perfectly, whereas the original studio recordings glorified that excess.
This performance of "Heroes" may be the best live version I've heard because it truly "gets" what made the studio recording so magical. Subsequent versions tended to change it into a driving rock and roll anthem, but the studio version specifically tried to be less rock and roll despite its steady beat and soaring guitar solos.
In contrast to "David Live", Bowie is energized and focused throughout the album, finally content to play something closer to his real life self (the underground artist from Berlin) rather than yet another character he had to convince himself he wanted to be. The entire album sounds frighteningly contemporary too, I have little doubt, in a parallel universe where Bowie was still with us, that this performance with a few songs from "Blackstar" thrown in could have gone over huge at any festival this year. What kind of mutant genius is this? 9.5/10
Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture (1983 original release)(recorded 1973)
"Hang On To Yourself" explodes out of the gate, fueled by an intensity that is almost punk, a remarkably aggressive sound for 1973. The slightly murky recording quality sets the scene beautifully, I can picture myself in the packed club, with raunchy smells in the air, watching a fierce and gloriously colourful rock and roll band. The Spiders From Mars sound spectacular even at the end of what was surely an exhausting tour. It is every bit the legendary gig that lives up to its reputation.
The guitar solo on "Moonage Daydream" is just ... wow. "Space Oddity" provides the necessary comedown after that, and it was at this point that I finally understood exactly what Suede were aiming for in 1993 when they followed up "The Drowners" with "Sleeping Pills" on their first album. Yes, of course they were glam-loving Bowie worshippers, I'm not talking about copying Bowie in the general sense. I'm talking about trying to duplicate this exact moment, about three minutes into "Space Oddity", when you try to take in its soaring guitar lines when the exhiliration of "Moonage Daydream" is still wedged in your brain.
After that extended cool down section, featuring epic versions of "Time" and "Width of a Circle", the energy ramps up again with "Changes", keeps increasing with "Let's Spend the Night Together", and hits impossibly high heights on "Suffragette City". The song sequencing is impeccable here.
As for the "retirement speech", all five seconds of it, it's no wonder why people thought he was really retiring (those few seconds, separate from the rest of this gig, are the total extent of what I've heard previously from this album). There's no sense of drama, as if he's immersed in the character and adding an extra element of drama to the show. It really feels like an out of character moment, and of course the final song is "Rock and Roll Suicide", and the symbolism couldn't be clearer -- "we're going out on top and throwing ourselves on our swords as we go". 8.5/10
Live Santa Monica '72 (released 1994/2008)
Recorded nine months before the famous Hammersmith Odeon concert (see above), but released as a semi-legal bootleg in 1994 and then officially in 2008, this album captures a somewhat softer side of the Ziggy-era Bowie. It's clearly the same band pushing the same buttons, but there are a few key differences. The proggy middle section of the "Ziggy Stardust" soundtrack is replaced by an all-acoustic run. "Changes" is closer in tone to the album version, and ballads like "Life on Mars" appear in place of the more aggressive "Aladdin Sane" material. You can also sum up the differences by the choice of Velvet Underground covers. On "Ziggy '73" they play "White Light, White Heat" -- raw, visceral, unforgiving. Here they play a rollicking, almost jaunty version of "I'm Waiting for the Man". These aren't negatives, but there is a lot more risk taking with the "Ziggy" gig and a clearer shift away from rock and roll norms. 7.5/10
Side note: on these live versions of "Hang Onto Yourself", they attack the riffs with more ferocity than the album version, and with a far greater emphasis on the bass. I wasn't convinced before, but I'm now fully on board with the theory that "Hang Onto Yourself" = sleng teng riddim.
Glass Spider Tour live (2008) (recorded 1987)
This is the one instance where I watched the concert video, for the rest of the albums I am reviewing just the audio recording.
This is the version of Bowie I grew up with -- the clean cut crooner of the post "Let's Dance" period. The clothes, staging, choreography, between song skits (weird half-street, half-surrealist stuff with a tinge of Janet Jackson ... definitely an odd coat for Bowie to try on) have all been impeccably stylized for the commercial 80's rock market. We're right in the thick of what Bowie derisively called his "Phil Collins" period. I still enjoy his singles from these years but I've never bothered to dig deeper into the albums or anything. This version of Bowie is "what you see is what you get" -- still cool and stylish, but for an artist who was constantly evolving, he was never more like everybody else than he was from 1983-1987.
And yet goddamn, this concert is still great. Sure, Carlos Alomar tries to show off his shredding skills a few too many times, Peter Frampton duets on "Sons of the Silent Age" and nearly ruins the song, and there's way too much Huey Lewis-style sax for my liking. But check out Bowie's dancing on "Fashion" -- who knew he was so flexible and could dance so well? Him and his band slay with "Young Americans" and "The Jean Genie", rearranged into bombastic overload for the 80's. And this concert features "Absolute Beginners" in its impossibly cool prime. Is it probably or most definitely the most underrated Bowie single? 8/10
VH1 Storytellers (2009) (recorded 1999)
The best part of this brief concert is a second hand story told to Bowie by Iggy Pop. Iggy went to a club on an anniversary of the building of the Berlin Wall, and at the appropriate moment, the clubgoers gleefully smashed up a model of the Wall. After it was done, everyone burst into tears. From the perspective of a frequent visitor to 21st century Berlin, as the city completely reinvents itself for the third time (at least) in the last century, that story got to me.
There are no standout musical performances or unique arrangements (although the semi-acoustic format of Storytellers does limit potential risk taking from the artists) but Bowie does take risks with song selection, digging deep into his catalog to play a number of seldom played album cuts. Also of interest is "Thursday's Child", the lead single from "Hours", which comes off sounding more lively than any of the older tunes. Sometimes you need reminding about how great Bowie could still be at his commercial nadir. "Thursday's Child" is easy on the ears, and is easily his most radio friendly single of the last fifteen or so years (my favourite radio station still plays it from time to time). 6/10
A Reality Tour (2010) (recorded 2003)
Sadly, this turned out to be Bowie's final tour. If he had announced it as his final tour at the time then you couldn't have asked for much more as a fan. Over the one hundred plus dates of the tour, he played a total of 67 songs from every phase of his career (the popular and not so popular ones). The concert was recorded over two nights in Dublin, and on the second night he played 35 songs from 15 different albums, plus a number of covers. The general theme is that there's something for everyone. It's a celebration of his career, and a decidedly uncontroversial and non confrontational one from an artist who usually tried hard to be both. Then again, "Reality" was a fairly straightforward rock album.
Still, if you don't get goosebumps hearing "Life on Mars" and "Ziggy Stardust" for the 10 000th time and at least five or six other songs of your choice (including at least one or two from his later albums), then I have no idea why you've made it to the end of this post. 7/10
But whereas with Reed I was already familiar with parts of his live catalogue, heading into this project I have not, to the best of my knowledge, heard a note of music from any of these albums. In fact, I've neither seen nor heard hardly any live Bowie -- besides the famous Live Aid performance and a bootleg from Glastonbury 2000 (which is fantastic) I can't recall a single thing off the top of my head (does the Bing Crosby TV appearance count?)*. I'll be listening in chronological order of each album's first release (not the very different order in which they were recorded), although in some cases I'll be substituting the expanded re-release for the original.
* Oh, there is a 45-minute documentary of Bowie and Massive Attack in Israel in 1996 -- how about that for a double bill? -- that includes a few live songs. I discovered it on Youtube the day after Bowie's death, but since then, it seems as though Israel Channel 2 have forced it off the internet. Here's a short clip.
David Live (1974) (2005 re-release)
This album has plenty of obstacles to overcome. It was during one of Bowie's "drugged out of his mind" phases, so even though he a gives perfectly serviceable performance, it's almost totally lacking in passion and conviction. That's a serious problem for an artist trying to transition away from glam rock and into what he claimed was soul music. The same can be said of his backing band. In place of a kindred soul like Mick Ronson who intuitively understood the Bowie aesthetic, here he brings a slick, professional outfit that is there to provide steady backup to Bowie but nothing more. If the singer could carry the show on the strength of his charisma then that might be sufficient, but unfortunately that is far from the case here.
Songs like "Changes" and especially "Suffragette City" should be ramshackle and slightly unhinged, instead they become "Bowie: the Musical"-style supper club entertainment with ample layers of squawking (overdubbed) sax. But as the album goes on, oddly enough, the style starts to work in a number of places, for example, with "All the Young Dudes" which for me has always been a Broadway-ready piece thanks to its dramatic and endlessly croonable chorus. "Rock and Roll With Me" has a raw, freestyling feel with a pronounced gospel streak that anticipates what Spiritualized would do nearly thirty years later beginning with "Amazing Grace". And of course, there's "Diamond Dogs", which was supposed to be a half glam, half Philly soul track in the first place.
Unfortunately, the album peaks around "Diamond Dogs"/"Panic In Detroit", before he digs into the meat of the "Diamond Dogs" album. That middle forty or so minutes out of the 100-minute slog is wonderful, and there's just enough good to outweigh the bad overall, but I wouldn't call this an essential live document or anything. 5.5/10
Stage (1978) (2005 re-release)
Even two songs in, this album blows away nearly everything on "David Live". "Stage" was heavily criticized at the time for being too "clean" (i.e. a soundboard recording with very little crowd noise) and sticking too close to the album arrangements. I didn't know that excess crowd noise was considered a must in 70's live recordings, so let's just dismiss that line of criticism. As for the arrangements, I think people weren't used to hearing seven minute instrumental pieces on recordings, so we can chalk it up to Bowie being so far ahead of the curve in his Berlin period. There are plenty of fascinating arrangements here besides the general increase in tempos. The squalls of guitar noise in the final minute and coda of "Beauty and the Beast" is just one example. The entire "Ziggy Stardust" section that begins disc 2 is another. Those songs lose much of their glam hedonism and take on a more sinister tone with Bowie's new band. "Ziggy Stardust" is a song (and album) about the dangers of rock and roll excess and the "Stage" recordings are played with a subtle restraint that communicates that message perfectly, whereas the original studio recordings glorified that excess.
This performance of "Heroes" may be the best live version I've heard because it truly "gets" what made the studio recording so magical. Subsequent versions tended to change it into a driving rock and roll anthem, but the studio version specifically tried to be less rock and roll despite its steady beat and soaring guitar solos.
In contrast to "David Live", Bowie is energized and focused throughout the album, finally content to play something closer to his real life self (the underground artist from Berlin) rather than yet another character he had to convince himself he wanted to be. The entire album sounds frighteningly contemporary too, I have little doubt, in a parallel universe where Bowie was still with us, that this performance with a few songs from "Blackstar" thrown in could have gone over huge at any festival this year. What kind of mutant genius is this? 9.5/10
Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture (1983 original release)(recorded 1973)
"Hang On To Yourself" explodes out of the gate, fueled by an intensity that is almost punk, a remarkably aggressive sound for 1973. The slightly murky recording quality sets the scene beautifully, I can picture myself in the packed club, with raunchy smells in the air, watching a fierce and gloriously colourful rock and roll band. The Spiders From Mars sound spectacular even at the end of what was surely an exhausting tour. It is every bit the legendary gig that lives up to its reputation.
The guitar solo on "Moonage Daydream" is just ... wow. "Space Oddity" provides the necessary comedown after that, and it was at this point that I finally understood exactly what Suede were aiming for in 1993 when they followed up "The Drowners" with "Sleeping Pills" on their first album. Yes, of course they were glam-loving Bowie worshippers, I'm not talking about copying Bowie in the general sense. I'm talking about trying to duplicate this exact moment, about three minutes into "Space Oddity", when you try to take in its soaring guitar lines when the exhiliration of "Moonage Daydream" is still wedged in your brain.
After that extended cool down section, featuring epic versions of "Time" and "Width of a Circle", the energy ramps up again with "Changes", keeps increasing with "Let's Spend the Night Together", and hits impossibly high heights on "Suffragette City". The song sequencing is impeccable here.
As for the "retirement speech", all five seconds of it, it's no wonder why people thought he was really retiring (those few seconds, separate from the rest of this gig, are the total extent of what I've heard previously from this album). There's no sense of drama, as if he's immersed in the character and adding an extra element of drama to the show. It really feels like an out of character moment, and of course the final song is "Rock and Roll Suicide", and the symbolism couldn't be clearer -- "we're going out on top and throwing ourselves on our swords as we go". 8.5/10
Live Santa Monica '72 (released 1994/2008)
Recorded nine months before the famous Hammersmith Odeon concert (see above), but released as a semi-legal bootleg in 1994 and then officially in 2008, this album captures a somewhat softer side of the Ziggy-era Bowie. It's clearly the same band pushing the same buttons, but there are a few key differences. The proggy middle section of the "Ziggy Stardust" soundtrack is replaced by an all-acoustic run. "Changes" is closer in tone to the album version, and ballads like "Life on Mars" appear in place of the more aggressive "Aladdin Sane" material. You can also sum up the differences by the choice of Velvet Underground covers. On "Ziggy '73" they play "White Light, White Heat" -- raw, visceral, unforgiving. Here they play a rollicking, almost jaunty version of "I'm Waiting for the Man". These aren't negatives, but there is a lot more risk taking with the "Ziggy" gig and a clearer shift away from rock and roll norms. 7.5/10
Side note: on these live versions of "Hang Onto Yourself", they attack the riffs with more ferocity than the album version, and with a far greater emphasis on the bass. I wasn't convinced before, but I'm now fully on board with the theory that "Hang Onto Yourself" = sleng teng riddim.
Glass Spider Tour live (2008) (recorded 1987)
This is the one instance where I watched the concert video, for the rest of the albums I am reviewing just the audio recording.
This is the version of Bowie I grew up with -- the clean cut crooner of the post "Let's Dance" period. The clothes, staging, choreography, between song skits (weird half-street, half-surrealist stuff with a tinge of Janet Jackson ... definitely an odd coat for Bowie to try on) have all been impeccably stylized for the commercial 80's rock market. We're right in the thick of what Bowie derisively called his "Phil Collins" period. I still enjoy his singles from these years but I've never bothered to dig deeper into the albums or anything. This version of Bowie is "what you see is what you get" -- still cool and stylish, but for an artist who was constantly evolving, he was never more like everybody else than he was from 1983-1987.
And yet goddamn, this concert is still great. Sure, Carlos Alomar tries to show off his shredding skills a few too many times, Peter Frampton duets on "Sons of the Silent Age" and nearly ruins the song, and there's way too much Huey Lewis-style sax for my liking. But check out Bowie's dancing on "Fashion" -- who knew he was so flexible and could dance so well? Him and his band slay with "Young Americans" and "The Jean Genie", rearranged into bombastic overload for the 80's. And this concert features "Absolute Beginners" in its impossibly cool prime. Is it probably or most definitely the most underrated Bowie single? 8/10
VH1 Storytellers (2009) (recorded 1999)
The best part of this brief concert is a second hand story told to Bowie by Iggy Pop. Iggy went to a club on an anniversary of the building of the Berlin Wall, and at the appropriate moment, the clubgoers gleefully smashed up a model of the Wall. After it was done, everyone burst into tears. From the perspective of a frequent visitor to 21st century Berlin, as the city completely reinvents itself for the third time (at least) in the last century, that story got to me.
There are no standout musical performances or unique arrangements (although the semi-acoustic format of Storytellers does limit potential risk taking from the artists) but Bowie does take risks with song selection, digging deep into his catalog to play a number of seldom played album cuts. Also of interest is "Thursday's Child", the lead single from "Hours", which comes off sounding more lively than any of the older tunes. Sometimes you need reminding about how great Bowie could still be at his commercial nadir. "Thursday's Child" is easy on the ears, and is easily his most radio friendly single of the last fifteen or so years (my favourite radio station still plays it from time to time). 6/10
A Reality Tour (2010) (recorded 2003)
Sadly, this turned out to be Bowie's final tour. If he had announced it as his final tour at the time then you couldn't have asked for much more as a fan. Over the one hundred plus dates of the tour, he played a total of 67 songs from every phase of his career (the popular and not so popular ones). The concert was recorded over two nights in Dublin, and on the second night he played 35 songs from 15 different albums, plus a number of covers. The general theme is that there's something for everyone. It's a celebration of his career, and a decidedly uncontroversial and non confrontational one from an artist who usually tried hard to be both. Then again, "Reality" was a fairly straightforward rock album.
Still, if you don't get goosebumps hearing "Life on Mars" and "Ziggy Stardust" for the 10 000th time and at least five or six other songs of your choice (including at least one or two from his later albums), then I have no idea why you've made it to the end of this post. 7/10
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