Stereogum spent their week digging through the strange idiosyncrasies of the 90's. As time passes, the 90's look more and more like the biggest outlier in music industry history. Sales and profits were at a never to be repeated all time high, thanks to overpriced CD's nearly monopolizing the format and consumption of music. Artists that sold out arenas in the 70's and 80's took the decade off (with few exceptions such as the Rolling Stones and U2), reformed or reconnected with their audience in the 00's and went right back to selling out arenas and stadiums again. The list goes on.
This conversation with Len's Marc Costanzo is the most honest and refreshing interviews I've seen in a while. We like to think of musicians as creative geniuses who go to great lengths to cultivate their art. But sometimes great songs just happen by complete fluke. Constanzo gets it, he's under absolutely no illusions about his place in the music business. He's an ordinary guy who liked writing music and getting wasted with his friends, and not necessarily in that order. He wrote "Steal My Sunshine" (helped by one of the best ever uses of sampling to really make a pop hit click) and couldn't be more humble about the complete unpredictability of it all. No marketing strategist could have come up with this path to success. Nothing could have been planned, not the inspiration for the song (the atmosphere at a rave), not the unthinkable sums of money given to them for filming the video (most of it spent on flying himself and his friends to Daytona to wreck shit while also wrecking their brain cells, filming everything as they went), and not the bonkers (but commendable) decision to fuck off and head home in the middle of their 200-date world tour because they were tired of being stars.
He doesn't complain about getting labeled a one hit wonder whose art wasn't appreciated in its time. In fact it's the opposite -- "when it goes that fast off one single, and you have no other singles -- we knew there was no other single. We were surprised there was even one single." It feels like almost anybody could have written this, one of the best singles of the past 25 years. Maybe anybody could have, but Constanzo actually did it. Sometimes that's enough. Sometimes it's not about being the most talented, or the most consistent, or the most business savvy, it's about dumb luck timing and doing one good thing before anyone else thinks of it.
--------------------
So how did Len fall ass backwards into one of the most fondly remembered singles of the decade, and the infinitely more ... everything really ... Prince struggle to sell records after 1991?
I've been thinking about this a lot since Prince's death last month. I'd long since assumed that Prince's commercial appeal went downhill for the same reasons that other 80's mega-icons' careers did -- failure to adapt his music to the changing tastes of music fans. Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, and Madonna all remained superstars until 1991-1992. Each new music video was an event, and their albums still sold well. By 1995, they all seemed like relics from a long forgotten time. In Prince's case, he lost the rock crowd because his glitzy persona and outlandish costumes and stage performances seemed shallow next to the dour seriousness of 90's grunge and alt-rock. He lost the hip-hip and R&B crowds because he never really embraced hip hop, and insisted on forcing 20 minute funk jams down people's throats rather than court the R&B fans that adored him in the 80's.
Is that really correct however? Listening again to "Gett Off", "Cream", and "Diamonds and Pearls", I was reminded of not only how massive those songs were on video music channels and radio, but also of how much they sounded like the R&B and New Jack Swing that remained popular well into the mid-90's. He recorded plenty of R&B cuts later in the decade that wouldn't have sounded out of place on a Boyz II Men album. Prince was one of the most versatile superstars ever -- could he really have failed to recognize and adapt to the changing tastes of his fans?
This 1998 interview with Prince (in his "The Artist" phase) from BET finds him speaking with a clear head about his problems with Warners, in language that sounds far more reasonable today than it did then. He spoke of wanting to market his music directly to his fans via the internet. Who else had that kind of foresight in the 90's? He spoke passionately about corporations increasing their control over him and his art, and needing to break with his record company (and his past identity!) in order to harness his creative potential. At the time many people thought he was setting fire to his career and biting the hand that fed him, but in a post-Occupy world, his sentiments would be met with a lot more sympathy.
This wonderful oral history of Prince in the 90's, from David Brown writing in Rolling Stone, gets closest to the truth. Prince's fans didn't get bored of him and start listening to G-funk instead. Rather, he stopped trying to market himself (and cut off contact with record companies and managers that would have been happy to do it for him) and dared his fans to follow his lead. He recorded albums with women he picked up at clubs. He eschewed most of his best known hits and channeled his inner James Brown, becoming a ruthlessly strict bandleader. Writing "SLAVE" on his forehead and changing his name to a symbol was kind of the last straw. He could have been ghostwriting slow jams for every major R&B act in the 90's, but he no longer wanted that kind of career. His anti-corporate actions prevented people from appreciating his music based on its merit alone. Casual fans could have taken to his new material, but Prince the man had become too much of an oddball to take seriously. It would actually be another ten years before he became comfortable with his legacy and went back to playing all his old hits again.
Friday, May 20, 2016
Friday, May 13, 2016
Stone Roses, "All For One"; Radiohead, "Daydreaming"
AKA two big comebacks that broke the internet ... with cynicism and snark! To the music!
The first new Stone Roses track in twenty years is lovably stupid, and contrary to most of the reactions I've seen, it's very difficult to hate. If a bunch of teenagers followed up their "Battle of the Bands" upset win with a simplistic song about positivity for their upcoming graduation ceremony, it might sound like "All For One". It's an absurdly simple song that sounds like it was written in less than ten minutes, but perhaps that's the point. Remember this? Songs like these are too dumb and innocent to truly hate.
Granted, the Roses are supposed to be 50-something professionals with a century of music biz experience between them, and instead of trying to live up to their legacy, they took the quickest route to writing a new sing along for their festival appearances this summer. Of course they could have done better.
On the other hand, after more than twenty five years, the Stone Roses finally sound almost exactly like the La's! I never could hear the ressemblance back in the day, even between "Sally Cinnamon"-era Roses. Tell me that "All For One"doesn't capture the banal jauntiness of The La's "IOU"!
Those first ten seconds (the guitar fade in, that first unmistakable John Squire lick) sure had people anticipating another "I Wanna Be Adored", didn't it?
On the bright side, at least the Roses had the good sense to get to the point with their new song -- after the first thirty seconds, you've heard all the song has to offer and can pretty much fill in the next three minutes in your head. On the other hand, Radiohead's "Daydreaming" starts with a few intruiging sounds and textures that could potentially go somewhere but ends up building to absolutely nothing that's the least bit interesting. Hey, it's a microcosm of Radiohead's entire career!
In the video, Thom Yorke walks around doing nothing. He walks through a laundromat and walks up a snow covered hill, to name just two examples. Somebody please hold on to me before I fall off the edge of my seat! One of many takeaways from Prince's death is the lost art of rock stars carrying themselves like rock stars. Prince never looked like a slob in public, and he didn't take promo shots for his albums that looked like black and white mug shots. Actually, even common criminals spend more on hair care than Radiohead. Replace comotose Thom Yorke in this video with any random down on his luck goof and what do you get? You get exactly the same turd of a video.
The first new Stone Roses track in twenty years is lovably stupid, and contrary to most of the reactions I've seen, it's very difficult to hate. If a bunch of teenagers followed up their "Battle of the Bands" upset win with a simplistic song about positivity for their upcoming graduation ceremony, it might sound like "All For One". It's an absurdly simple song that sounds like it was written in less than ten minutes, but perhaps that's the point. Remember this? Songs like these are too dumb and innocent to truly hate.
Granted, the Roses are supposed to be 50-something professionals with a century of music biz experience between them, and instead of trying to live up to their legacy, they took the quickest route to writing a new sing along for their festival appearances this summer. Of course they could have done better.
On the other hand, after more than twenty five years, the Stone Roses finally sound almost exactly like the La's! I never could hear the ressemblance back in the day, even between "Sally Cinnamon"-era Roses. Tell me that "All For One"doesn't capture the banal jauntiness of The La's "IOU"!
Those first ten seconds (the guitar fade in, that first unmistakable John Squire lick) sure had people anticipating another "I Wanna Be Adored", didn't it?
On the bright side, at least the Roses had the good sense to get to the point with their new song -- after the first thirty seconds, you've heard all the song has to offer and can pretty much fill in the next three minutes in your head. On the other hand, Radiohead's "Daydreaming" starts with a few intruiging sounds and textures that could potentially go somewhere but ends up building to absolutely nothing that's the least bit interesting. Hey, it's a microcosm of Radiohead's entire career!
In the video, Thom Yorke walks around doing nothing. He walks through a laundromat and walks up a snow covered hill, to name just two examples. Somebody please hold on to me before I fall off the edge of my seat! One of many takeaways from Prince's death is the lost art of rock stars carrying themselves like rock stars. Prince never looked like a slob in public, and he didn't take promo shots for his albums that looked like black and white mug shots. Actually, even common criminals spend more on hair care than Radiohead. Replace comotose Thom Yorke in this video with any random down on his luck goof and what do you get? You get exactly the same turd of a video.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
Prince RIP
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.
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.
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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)