Earlier this month, I was binge listening some CD-R's that I burned in 2005 and early 2006. I've written about late-2003/early-2004 being a transformative time for me, the last stand for brick and mortar music stores as my main source for new music. I'm only now beginning to appreciate the significance of that 2005/2006 stretch, perhaps as an equally transformative time.
2005 was my peak year, no doubt, for keeping up with the widest variety of new music and criticism. My posting frequency during that time is a clear testament to this. I listened to about twice as many new releases as I have in a typical year, before or since. And because I moved in mid-2006, this period had a definitive end point and was extensively archived in the forms of these CD-R's.
This mini-era was preserved like no other, because with the founding of Youtube in 2005, the growth of other streaming services shortly thereafter, and data storage becoming ever cheaper, it was the end of CD-R's as a preferred medium. These twenty or so CD-R's now look like lost relics from a forgotten information age. I carefully handled them and played them as you would a valuable piece of vinyl rediscovered decades later in a hidden attic.
Besides mp3 copies of albums, I saved a trove of live recordings: lots of Animal Collective, noise artists, some techno, cool rare gems like a "Contino Sessions"-era Death In Vegas gig. There were also CD-R's of individual tracks that I presumably found via yousendit links and file sharing programs. Lots and lots of Michael Mayer and Jacques Lu Cont remixes and similarly styled club techno of the day. This era of techno came to a crashing end for me too, as I stopped buying vinyl and collecting remixes by the usual suspects, and shifted my focus to podcasts and hitting the clubs more often.
Thursday, November 28, 2019
Saturday, November 02, 2019
My thoughts on Blur in 2019
Outside of a few scattered mentions, my last post focusing on Blur was over eight years ago. I can't recall how it started, but this week I fell down the rabbit hole and listened to a ton of Blur, and rewatched the "No Distance Left To Run" documentary for the first time since my initial review back in 2011.
I still stand by everything I wrote about it back then -- it's still a powerful documentary and you won't find a better summation of the band in under two hours. It's arranged like a sequence of postcards, with each one recalling a specific scene in the history of the band. There's no narrator and no linear style of storytelling (plenty of important stuff is skimmed or skipped over entirely), which is the film's greatest strength. Band histories are complex, and this one focuses on the personalities of the players, not their specific achievements, leaving the viewer to fill in the blanks (hopefully by diving deeper into their music). This is the point they want to drive home, specifically, that the reunion came about because of their need to repair their friendships. The fact that they were successful in doing so is the main reason that the reunion can work. To understand this, they had to bare their personalities for the camera, and in doing so, one sees how much they all were, and still are, polar opposites. And yet the combination works. On second viewing, I felt even more sorry for Graham, a shy soul who could have been truly happy recording and practicing in a home studio for his entire adult life, yet was swept along into the adventures of Britain's biggest 90's bands. I was sold on Alex's book, published more than a decade, and really must pick it up. Dave ... didn't say much. And Damon still comes off as a bit of an arrogant prick. However, seeing how the Blur reunion has now survived further tours and even a new album ("The Magic Whip", which I still have not heard in full), he comes off more genuine than he did in 2010 or 2011, one can no longer argue that he sees Blur as an ego-boosting vanity project.
"Parklife", the album, sounds more and more like the product of a specific time and place. It still has brilliant moments, but the whole is less than the sum of its parts. The "character" songs are more preening, and very formulaic. The self-titled album has probably aged the least of all their records. The Pavement-influenced stuff is still as sharp as it was back then, the Beck-influenced stuff not so much.
Demos: I finally heard the original "Death of a Party", which was first recorded years before its eventual release on "Blur" and was referenced in Select's well-known "Compleat Blur" articles in 1995. The lyrics and melody survived intact, but the style underwent a radical overhaul, from bouncy indie pop to the bleak, trip-hop influenced version they eventually released. The spark is clearly there and it's surprising that they sat on it for so long.
"Far Out" started as a bouncy pub rocker close to the style of "Intermission". On its own its really quite brilliant, but s a four minute extended joke on "Parklife" it would have been snowed and forgotten amongst the Britpoppy songs. As a one minute sci-fi spookfest, it's a standout.
"For Tomorrow" is a monotonic, caterwauling mess and it goes to show how important a strong vocal and arrangement can be for making a song work.
I still stand by everything I wrote about it back then -- it's still a powerful documentary and you won't find a better summation of the band in under two hours. It's arranged like a sequence of postcards, with each one recalling a specific scene in the history of the band. There's no narrator and no linear style of storytelling (plenty of important stuff is skimmed or skipped over entirely), which is the film's greatest strength. Band histories are complex, and this one focuses on the personalities of the players, not their specific achievements, leaving the viewer to fill in the blanks (hopefully by diving deeper into their music). This is the point they want to drive home, specifically, that the reunion came about because of their need to repair their friendships. The fact that they were successful in doing so is the main reason that the reunion can work. To understand this, they had to bare their personalities for the camera, and in doing so, one sees how much they all were, and still are, polar opposites. And yet the combination works. On second viewing, I felt even more sorry for Graham, a shy soul who could have been truly happy recording and practicing in a home studio for his entire adult life, yet was swept along into the adventures of Britain's biggest 90's bands. I was sold on Alex's book, published more than a decade, and really must pick it up. Dave ... didn't say much. And Damon still comes off as a bit of an arrogant prick. However, seeing how the Blur reunion has now survived further tours and even a new album ("The Magic Whip", which I still have not heard in full), he comes off more genuine than he did in 2010 or 2011, one can no longer argue that he sees Blur as an ego-boosting vanity project.
"Parklife", the album, sounds more and more like the product of a specific time and place. It still has brilliant moments, but the whole is less than the sum of its parts. The "character" songs are more preening, and very formulaic. The self-titled album has probably aged the least of all their records. The Pavement-influenced stuff is still as sharp as it was back then, the Beck-influenced stuff not so much.
Demos: I finally heard the original "Death of a Party", which was first recorded years before its eventual release on "Blur" and was referenced in Select's well-known "Compleat Blur" articles in 1995. The lyrics and melody survived intact, but the style underwent a radical overhaul, from bouncy indie pop to the bleak, trip-hop influenced version they eventually released. The spark is clearly there and it's surprising that they sat on it for so long.
"Far Out" started as a bouncy pub rocker close to the style of "Intermission". On its own its really quite brilliant, but s a four minute extended joke on "Parklife" it would have been snowed and forgotten amongst the Britpoppy songs. As a one minute sci-fi spookfest, it's a standout.
"For Tomorrow" is a monotonic, caterwauling mess and it goes to show how important a strong vocal and arrangement can be for making a song work.
Tuesday, October 29, 2019
Yazoo, "Upstairs at Eric's"
Yazoo's "Don't Go" hasn't really left the radio in the thirty seven (!) years since its initial release. What seemed radical at the time (full throated, bluesy synth pop) turned out to be an idea with some legs. Strip away the vocals, and "Upstairs at Eric's" isn't too different from Depeche Mode's "Speak and Spell", released just one year earlier. "Upstairs at Eric's" has richer basslines and cuts back on the twinkly kiddie melody lines, but it's clear that it's the work of the same songwriter.
"Speak and Spell" has long been one of my favourite DM albums. It exudes fun and positivity, it's dripping with catchy melodies, and there's rarely a time when I wouldn't feel up to listening to it. Half of DM's output is dark, sinister stuff that you have to get in a mood for, but "Just Can't Get Enough" or "Photographic" requires no preparation. My US version of the album even includes "Dreaming of Me", one of the all time great, brighten-my-days tunes. However, it must be said that besides the aforementioned gems, "Speak and Spell" also contains some of the worst dreck DM ever recorded. Out of the worst ten DM songs, probably five of them appear on their first two albums (so you can split the blame between Vince Clarke and Martin Gore equally). Today, DM are the elder statesmen of the era, one of the few UK synth-pop acts that gained popularity as the decade went on, became equally or more popular in the US, and boast a critically and popularly acclaimed catalogue of anthems. But at the time, they were a boy band, reviled by many harbingers of good taste, and not expected to have any career longevity. "Speak and Spell" is music by kids and for kids, which is what DM were at the time. Clarke was the elder statesman of the group at the time, at the ripe old age of 21.
Once you add Moyet's amazing voice to Clarke's synths, suddenly the combination becomes a bluesy, wise beyond their years, more complete package. Make no mistake, Moyet is the reason these songs can sound so great decades later. Her pleading and her pain are the consistent focus in these songs. When was a teenager, "Situation" was a hot club jam, backed by a number of notable remixes. I didn't know at the time that it was a US single only, that the duo strongly disapproved of. I can't understand their mode of thinking, because "Situation" really stands apart from anything else on "Upstairs at Eric's". It has more in common with electro and breakbeat than early 80's synth pop. It's genre-straddling, forward thinking nature is undoubtedly why it stayed relevant in clubs for the next decade.
"Speak and Spell" has long been one of my favourite DM albums. It exudes fun and positivity, it's dripping with catchy melodies, and there's rarely a time when I wouldn't feel up to listening to it. Half of DM's output is dark, sinister stuff that you have to get in a mood for, but "Just Can't Get Enough" or "Photographic" requires no preparation. My US version of the album even includes "Dreaming of Me", one of the all time great, brighten-my-days tunes. However, it must be said that besides the aforementioned gems, "Speak and Spell" also contains some of the worst dreck DM ever recorded. Out of the worst ten DM songs, probably five of them appear on their first two albums (so you can split the blame between Vince Clarke and Martin Gore equally). Today, DM are the elder statesmen of the era, one of the few UK synth-pop acts that gained popularity as the decade went on, became equally or more popular in the US, and boast a critically and popularly acclaimed catalogue of anthems. But at the time, they were a boy band, reviled by many harbingers of good taste, and not expected to have any career longevity. "Speak and Spell" is music by kids and for kids, which is what DM were at the time. Clarke was the elder statesman of the group at the time, at the ripe old age of 21.
Once you add Moyet's amazing voice to Clarke's synths, suddenly the combination becomes a bluesy, wise beyond their years, more complete package. Make no mistake, Moyet is the reason these songs can sound so great decades later. Her pleading and her pain are the consistent focus in these songs. When was a teenager, "Situation" was a hot club jam, backed by a number of notable remixes. I didn't know at the time that it was a US single only, that the duo strongly disapproved of. I can't understand their mode of thinking, because "Situation" really stands apart from anything else on "Upstairs at Eric's". It has more in common with electro and breakbeat than early 80's synth pop. It's genre-straddling, forward thinking nature is undoubtedly why it stayed relevant in clubs for the next decade.
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Springsteen on Broadway
Springsteen fans claim that he can sing in front of a stadium full of people and make everyone feel like he's singing directly and only to them. If that's not hyperbole, then how up front and personal is his Broadway show? It's a two plus hour recitation of stories from the Boss' past interspersed with many of his most famous songs, in front of a miniscule (by his standards) crowd of less than one thousand people?
There may never be another musician like him, one who can come off as hypermasculine and so much larger than life, but also personable, sensitive, and not the least bit intimidating. A show like this wouldn't work in a much larger venue. This isn't Springsteen Unplugged, it's closer to a literary recitation by a trained actor, and in many ways that's exactly what this is -- stories culled from his autobiography delivered by a performer who's spent more time on a stage over the past fifty years than just about any stage actors. He's been rehearsing for the part for his entire career! It seems corny, but how else can you describe it? Bruce nails every nuance, every furrow of his brow, every smile, every pause, knows when to be funny, when to be serious, when to milk a line, when to swear, when to wander off mike, when to raise his voice and when to lower it to a whisper, every last line is delivered for maximum power, maximum dramatic effect.
The first ninety minutes are a one man show, a retelling of stories from his youth that open a window into the person he became. Very much "A Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man", in fact. Even more so, there's a lot in common between the content here and Brett Anderson's excellent memoir, "Coal Black Mornings", that I recently wrote about. Both men even had similar types of parents -- hard working but brooding and introverted fathers, endlessly energetic, outgoing, and extroverted mothers. The fathers were stuck in difficult jobs but it was the mothers who dreamed of escape -- Springsteen's mother through her love of dancing (still not faded even years into the throes of Alzheimer's) and Anderson's mother through her eventual divorce from his father and relocation to a quieter life in the country.
Anderson admits that he subconsciously wrote songs about his relationship with father and could only admit that to himself years later. "I Don't Know How To Reach You", from the "Night Thoughts" album in 2016 was a conscious attempt to evaluate their relationship, years after his father's death. Springsteen tells a story about his father being a ghost in his life for such a long time, even while he was alive. But one day his father drove hundreds of miles to see him, unannounced, just to warn Bruce to not make the same mistakes raising his (Bruce's) kids that he (his father) did. Bruce's father was trying to make amends, but was also trying to define himself a legacy that would succeed him long after he was gone. Bruce calls it the greatest moment he ever had with his father, and it's the only moment in this show where he breaks down, wiping away tears before starting the next song.
Those first ninety minutes cover only eight songs. By the end of "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out", with it's extended middle section dedicated to (and eulogizing) the late Clarence Clemons, a shift in tone is appropriate and welcomed. The story thus far has been about a constant struggle, but once Clemons joins the band, all the pieces are in place. At that point, it becomes a story about realizing his dreams, step by step, and that's not what this show focuses on. The last hour is more of a "A Special Evening with Bruce" club-style performance, more song heavy rather than story heavy, complete with a special guest (his wife Patty), and blazing performances of "The Rising" and "Dancing in the Dark" among others.
There may never be another musician like him, one who can come off as hypermasculine and so much larger than life, but also personable, sensitive, and not the least bit intimidating. A show like this wouldn't work in a much larger venue. This isn't Springsteen Unplugged, it's closer to a literary recitation by a trained actor, and in many ways that's exactly what this is -- stories culled from his autobiography delivered by a performer who's spent more time on a stage over the past fifty years than just about any stage actors. He's been rehearsing for the part for his entire career! It seems corny, but how else can you describe it? Bruce nails every nuance, every furrow of his brow, every smile, every pause, knows when to be funny, when to be serious, when to milk a line, when to swear, when to wander off mike, when to raise his voice and when to lower it to a whisper, every last line is delivered for maximum power, maximum dramatic effect.
The first ninety minutes are a one man show, a retelling of stories from his youth that open a window into the person he became. Very much "A Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man", in fact. Even more so, there's a lot in common between the content here and Brett Anderson's excellent memoir, "Coal Black Mornings", that I recently wrote about. Both men even had similar types of parents -- hard working but brooding and introverted fathers, endlessly energetic, outgoing, and extroverted mothers. The fathers were stuck in difficult jobs but it was the mothers who dreamed of escape -- Springsteen's mother through her love of dancing (still not faded even years into the throes of Alzheimer's) and Anderson's mother through her eventual divorce from his father and relocation to a quieter life in the country.
Anderson admits that he subconsciously wrote songs about his relationship with father and could only admit that to himself years later. "I Don't Know How To Reach You", from the "Night Thoughts" album in 2016 was a conscious attempt to evaluate their relationship, years after his father's death. Springsteen tells a story about his father being a ghost in his life for such a long time, even while he was alive. But one day his father drove hundreds of miles to see him, unannounced, just to warn Bruce to not make the same mistakes raising his (Bruce's) kids that he (his father) did. Bruce's father was trying to make amends, but was also trying to define himself a legacy that would succeed him long after he was gone. Bruce calls it the greatest moment he ever had with his father, and it's the only moment in this show where he breaks down, wiping away tears before starting the next song.
Those first ninety minutes cover only eight songs. By the end of "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out", with it's extended middle section dedicated to (and eulogizing) the late Clarence Clemons, a shift in tone is appropriate and welcomed. The story thus far has been about a constant struggle, but once Clemons joins the band, all the pieces are in place. At that point, it becomes a story about realizing his dreams, step by step, and that's not what this show focuses on. The last hour is more of a "A Special Evening with Bruce" club-style performance, more song heavy rather than story heavy, complete with a special guest (his wife Patty), and blazing performances of "The Rising" and "Dancing in the Dark" among others.
Wednesday, September 25, 2019
Ric Ocasek's work with Suicide
I found out about Ric Ocasek's passing via a tweet from Weezer's Twitter account. I'd forgotten that Ocasek was a producer of some note, known for working with No Doubt, Weezer, Suicide, and many others. At that point I realized that I'd bought too far into the Suicide myth, lionizing their punk era debut album and neglecting everything they recorded afterward (everything they recorded as Suicide that is, I have a few albums that Rev and Vega worked on as solo artists).
Suicide had a career similar to that of Jesus and Mary Chain. The first album is considered the legendary, groundbreaking, extreme work of art. The later albums saw them mellowing out and settling into a comfortable career as commercial artists. Again, the myth is a difficult thing to overcome. I never thought that "Psychocandy" was the best JAMC album. The concept is the key, and everything surrounding it (the Velvets adoration, love of noise, the fifteen minute gigs) makes for a great story. It's just that the follow-up albums are far more listenable. "Darklands" was the favourite of the goths, an intense (but rarely "dark") proto-emo classic. "Automatic" is simply a great rock and roll album, and probably their most consistent. On the other hand, I never feel the urge to listen to "Psychocandy". If I want to hear the early stuff, I go for the singles or the Peel Sessions from that era.
Similar things could be said about Suicide. The first album is brilliant, but perhaps too over the top, too punishing a listen for one sitting, and too fixated on shock value. The second album gives off a true real rock and roll vibe even though its entirely electronic and most definitely lo-fi. The beats are softer, the vocals are smoothed out, more lyrical, and less shouty. Ocasek deserves his due credit. I can even imagine these songs as Cars demo recordings, with the electronic bass taking the place of a rhythm guitarist. Suicide were transformed from provocateurs to a fascinating pop/techno hybrid. In the pseudo keyboard solos on "Diamonds, Furcoat, Champagne", I hear a lot of Kraftwerk's "Computer World", even though the latter wasn't released until the next year. I hear the combination of inner city grit and brash electronic pop with which Soft Cell would find great success (but once again, not for another year following this).
"A Way of Life" is a highly underrated record that managed to keep up with then-contemporary trends while remaining true to their minimal, lo-fi roots. When you hear the opener, "Wild In Blue", it's easy to understand why Wax Trax released this album. It's jittery, proto-industrial beats and cavernous echoes fit seamlessly with the material released by Wax Trax at the time. The next track, "Surrender", is a 60's doo-wop number that Phil Spector would have been proud to produce. Somehow, Ocasek holds these different styles together, and he didn't stop there. The slashing guitars and propulsive beats on "Rain of Ruin" predates Ministry and KMFDM's signature styles from the 90's. "Dominic Christ" could have been a synth-drenched, new wave-y hit for the Cars, very much in the style of "You Might Think". "Heat Beat" is wonderfully queasy, reminiscent of mid-90's hard house in its insistent rhythm and bludgeoning intensity. It's the last thing you'd expect from a (nominally) rock producer.
Ocasek also produced their "Dream Baby Dream" single, and this is one case where I prefer the cover versions to the original -- both Neneh Cherry and Bruce Springsteen have brilliant takes on it, done in totally different styles.
Suicide had a career similar to that of Jesus and Mary Chain. The first album is considered the legendary, groundbreaking, extreme work of art. The later albums saw them mellowing out and settling into a comfortable career as commercial artists. Again, the myth is a difficult thing to overcome. I never thought that "Psychocandy" was the best JAMC album. The concept is the key, and everything surrounding it (the Velvets adoration, love of noise, the fifteen minute gigs) makes for a great story. It's just that the follow-up albums are far more listenable. "Darklands" was the favourite of the goths, an intense (but rarely "dark") proto-emo classic. "Automatic" is simply a great rock and roll album, and probably their most consistent. On the other hand, I never feel the urge to listen to "Psychocandy". If I want to hear the early stuff, I go for the singles or the Peel Sessions from that era.
Similar things could be said about Suicide. The first album is brilliant, but perhaps too over the top, too punishing a listen for one sitting, and too fixated on shock value. The second album gives off a true real rock and roll vibe even though its entirely electronic and most definitely lo-fi. The beats are softer, the vocals are smoothed out, more lyrical, and less shouty. Ocasek deserves his due credit. I can even imagine these songs as Cars demo recordings, with the electronic bass taking the place of a rhythm guitarist. Suicide were transformed from provocateurs to a fascinating pop/techno hybrid. In the pseudo keyboard solos on "Diamonds, Furcoat, Champagne", I hear a lot of Kraftwerk's "Computer World", even though the latter wasn't released until the next year. I hear the combination of inner city grit and brash electronic pop with which Soft Cell would find great success (but once again, not for another year following this).
"A Way of Life" is a highly underrated record that managed to keep up with then-contemporary trends while remaining true to their minimal, lo-fi roots. When you hear the opener, "Wild In Blue", it's easy to understand why Wax Trax released this album. It's jittery, proto-industrial beats and cavernous echoes fit seamlessly with the material released by Wax Trax at the time. The next track, "Surrender", is a 60's doo-wop number that Phil Spector would have been proud to produce. Somehow, Ocasek holds these different styles together, and he didn't stop there. The slashing guitars and propulsive beats on "Rain of Ruin" predates Ministry and KMFDM's signature styles from the 90's. "Dominic Christ" could have been a synth-drenched, new wave-y hit for the Cars, very much in the style of "You Might Think". "Heat Beat" is wonderfully queasy, reminiscent of mid-90's hard house in its insistent rhythm and bludgeoning intensity. It's the last thing you'd expect from a (nominally) rock producer.
Ocasek also produced their "Dream Baby Dream" single, and this is one case where I prefer the cover versions to the original -- both Neneh Cherry and Bruce Springsteen have brilliant takes on it, done in totally different styles.
Friday, August 16, 2019
Shlomo Artzi celebrates 50 years on stage at Live Park Rishon (15/08)
Shlomo Artzi's marathon three hour set was full of missteps.
The first of two shows to celebrate his fifty year career, the dazzling set list included plenty of his decades-spanning hits and a number of highly touted guest spots that didn't disappoint (Natan Goshen, Haim Moshe, Rita, Shalom Hanoch, and David Broza). But Artzi's frequent improvisations (i.e. mid-song speeches and tempo changes) curtailed the momentum of the set far too often. With his guests, Artzi resorted to calling out the verse numbers far too many times, directing his duets on the fly as if he was in a rehearsal, rather than in front of 12 000 people in a park. He and his band are experienced enough to fly by the seat of their pants without letting the entire song go off the rails, but such ramshackle planning doesn't make for the best concertgoing experience. After playing some of his bigger uptempo hits at the start (e.g. "Nitzmadnu", "Eretz Hadasha"), the set seemed to lose direction, becoming a sort of jam session with his band and his guests, and the various interludes were often charming, but also needlessly stretched out the evening to a nearly 1 AM finish, much to the chagrin of many exhausted audience members.
And yet, none of the above really seemed to matter. Artzi is a captivating, dynamic performer, one of the best I've ever seen at interacting with a crowd and holding them in the palm of his hand. He owns the stage even when he breaks the rules, and as he nears age 70, his voice sounds and good as ever and his onstage energy is boundless. His guests are pros who can craft magic on stage simply with their presence.
Consider the opening of this concert: quick cuts of Artzi and his family over the years, live shots of the band walking on stage, "Nitzmadnu", a mid-song speech about his lack of nervousness coming on stage and crying when his kids were born (among other things), and a final, powerful coda to the song. It was a continuous lump-in-throat moment that happens only rarely in concerts, and virtually never in the first ten minutes.
The first of two shows to celebrate his fifty year career, the dazzling set list included plenty of his decades-spanning hits and a number of highly touted guest spots that didn't disappoint (Natan Goshen, Haim Moshe, Rita, Shalom Hanoch, and David Broza). But Artzi's frequent improvisations (i.e. mid-song speeches and tempo changes) curtailed the momentum of the set far too often. With his guests, Artzi resorted to calling out the verse numbers far too many times, directing his duets on the fly as if he was in a rehearsal, rather than in front of 12 000 people in a park. He and his band are experienced enough to fly by the seat of their pants without letting the entire song go off the rails, but such ramshackle planning doesn't make for the best concertgoing experience. After playing some of his bigger uptempo hits at the start (e.g. "Nitzmadnu", "Eretz Hadasha"), the set seemed to lose direction, becoming a sort of jam session with his band and his guests, and the various interludes were often charming, but also needlessly stretched out the evening to a nearly 1 AM finish, much to the chagrin of many exhausted audience members.
And yet, none of the above really seemed to matter. Artzi is a captivating, dynamic performer, one of the best I've ever seen at interacting with a crowd and holding them in the palm of his hand. He owns the stage even when he breaks the rules, and as he nears age 70, his voice sounds and good as ever and his onstage energy is boundless. His guests are pros who can craft magic on stage simply with their presence.
Consider the opening of this concert: quick cuts of Artzi and his family over the years, live shots of the band walking on stage, "Nitzmadnu", a mid-song speech about his lack of nervousness coming on stage and crying when his kids were born (among other things), and a final, powerful coda to the song. It was a continuous lump-in-throat moment that happens only rarely in concerts, and virtually never in the first ten minutes.
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Billie Eilish, "WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO"; Emika, "Falling in Love With Sadness"
Lil Nas X has managed to fend off Taylor Swift not once, but twice on the way to his unprecedented 19-week run atop the Billboard 100. And yet, "Old Town Road"'s biggest challenge has come not from megastar Swift, but from Billie Eilish's "Bad Guy", which has spent a total of nine weeks (and counting) at #2. That's one week short of the all-time record for weeks at #2 for a song that never reached #1 (assuming it never gets there).
My first thoughts about Eilish's debut album were how simple and underproduced most of it is. That's not a criticism -- I like stripped down, minimal recordings just fine. It buzzes with life from its deep bass rumbles, and Eilish's strained whispers add a dose of fragility that isn't often heard in electronic music, let alone pop music in general. I wasn't taken aback by the sound of the album, but rather, that such a thing could be so popular.
I checked out some message boards and before the breakthrough success of "Bad Guy", there seemed to be a debate about how popular Eilish really was amonsgst teenagers. Naturally, there were no teenagers actually frequenting these boards, so the discussion was heavily seeped in hearsay. One person seemed sure (based on the opinion of a sister of a friend or wife or something to that effect) that her concerts are packed with thousands of kids who go all manners of apeshit for her every move. So I checked out some clips on youtube and ... this person was absolutely right. And at that moment, I felt the crushing weight of the generation gap, because I didn't get it at all.
I think Billie Eilish is talented and I like a lot of her songs. Her debut single, "Ocean Eyes", is probably better than anything on her debut album. But since its release two years ago, her music has become darker and more blunted. More importantly, her lyrics have gone from dewy teenage pop to ... something I can barely describe, because they weren't written for my consumption. "Bury a Friend" is laced with depression and self-loathing, but it's more than that. It's about the cadence of the lyrics, the way she sounds like she doesn't care but clearly does. The lyrics are emo, sort of, but they're meant to be empowering rather than inviting your pity. There are bits of philosophy sprinkled all over the album (in the title for example"), but I think you need to be a teenager to find them profound. Her singing style is highly unconventional, but it speaks to the soul of a different generation.
The best comparison that comes to mind is Nine Inch Nails from thirty years ago. His music sounded catastrophically unlistenable to baby boomers. His lyrics were puzzling to anyone born before 1970, but for us, it made perfect sense to hate others as you'd hate yourself ("Something I Can Never Have", "Sin", to name just two). We got it, most others didn't. And in concert, this wiry, violent brat was a superhero to us. Similarly, I see something in Billie Eilish that I'm not capable of understanding, but if I was sixteen then I would probably be crazy for her.
These days, Reznor is entrenched in the upper echelons of the music establishment. I never thought the day would come when our people would be the gatekeepers and yet earlier this year, Reznor inducted the Cure into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It's the circle of life. Reznor is also the co-writer on the most successful song in Billboard Hot 100 history. Unbelievable.
Then you have Emika, i.e. Billie Eilish for grownups. It's also dark electronic pop, but with a clear "made in Berlin" bent. It's lounge singer sad, not complicated teenager sad. It's not groundbreaking either, but I know that I get it.
My first thoughts about Eilish's debut album were how simple and underproduced most of it is. That's not a criticism -- I like stripped down, minimal recordings just fine. It buzzes with life from its deep bass rumbles, and Eilish's strained whispers add a dose of fragility that isn't often heard in electronic music, let alone pop music in general. I wasn't taken aback by the sound of the album, but rather, that such a thing could be so popular.
I checked out some message boards and before the breakthrough success of "Bad Guy", there seemed to be a debate about how popular Eilish really was amonsgst teenagers. Naturally, there were no teenagers actually frequenting these boards, so the discussion was heavily seeped in hearsay. One person seemed sure (based on the opinion of a sister of a friend or wife or something to that effect) that her concerts are packed with thousands of kids who go all manners of apeshit for her every move. So I checked out some clips on youtube and ... this person was absolutely right. And at that moment, I felt the crushing weight of the generation gap, because I didn't get it at all.
I think Billie Eilish is talented and I like a lot of her songs. Her debut single, "Ocean Eyes", is probably better than anything on her debut album. But since its release two years ago, her music has become darker and more blunted. More importantly, her lyrics have gone from dewy teenage pop to ... something I can barely describe, because they weren't written for my consumption. "Bury a Friend" is laced with depression and self-loathing, but it's more than that. It's about the cadence of the lyrics, the way she sounds like she doesn't care but clearly does. The lyrics are emo, sort of, but they're meant to be empowering rather than inviting your pity. There are bits of philosophy sprinkled all over the album (in the title for example"), but I think you need to be a teenager to find them profound. Her singing style is highly unconventional, but it speaks to the soul of a different generation.
The best comparison that comes to mind is Nine Inch Nails from thirty years ago. His music sounded catastrophically unlistenable to baby boomers. His lyrics were puzzling to anyone born before 1970, but for us, it made perfect sense to hate others as you'd hate yourself ("Something I Can Never Have", "Sin", to name just two). We got it, most others didn't. And in concert, this wiry, violent brat was a superhero to us. Similarly, I see something in Billie Eilish that I'm not capable of understanding, but if I was sixteen then I would probably be crazy for her.
These days, Reznor is entrenched in the upper echelons of the music establishment. I never thought the day would come when our people would be the gatekeepers and yet earlier this year, Reznor inducted the Cure into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It's the circle of life. Reznor is also the co-writer on the most successful song in Billboard Hot 100 history. Unbelievable.
Then you have Emika, i.e. Billie Eilish for grownups. It's also dark electronic pop, but with a clear "made in Berlin" bent. It's lounge singer sad, not complicated teenager sad. It's not groundbreaking either, but I know that I get it.
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Reviewing every Eurovision Song Contest Winner (1969)
Finally getting back to this project and jumping straight into the chaos of 1969!
Salome, "Vivo cantando" (Spain).
There are several notable things about this performance, starting with Salome's mile high beehive hairdo and pale blue dress that looks like a cross between scraggly animal fur and exotic beads. There's the tuxedo-clad barber shop trio that were beamed in from a completely different, much sleepier song. There's the way she loses herself in the song and resorts to dancing (against Eurovision rules at the time!), distracting herself from the singing she's supposed to be doing but upping the excitement factor of the song times ten. All these performance aspects add up to more than the sum of their parts -- this is arguably the first all sizzle, no (or very little) steak performance in Eurovision. The song doesn't amount to much, jumping between Broadway glitz, flamenco rave-up, and touching ballad, trying to cover all bases at once but never establishing an identity. Nevertheless, "Vivo cantando" helps establish the Eurovision tradition of putting on a wild performance with flashy costumes, dancing, and other bizarre gaga and hoping people won't notice the deficiencies of the song overlaying it. 6/10.
Lulu, "Boom Bang-a-Bang" (United Kingdom)
Lulu was a fairly big star when she represented the UK and her team clearly expected that to win the day for them in the contest. And hey, it worked. Lulu looked like the cuddly pink precursor to Meghan Trainor in the "All About That Bass" video, she won Eurovision, and "Boom Bang-a-Bang" was a massive hit in the UK and all over Europe. The song, however, is treacly nonsense that I never want to hear again. 3/10.
Lenny Kour, "De troubadour" (Netherlands)
I wouldn't have guessed that a straight up folk song with a strong protest/political bent actually won Eurovision exactly fifty years ago. Political songs are, and I assume were against the Eurovision rules except when the rules are arbitrarily ignored (e.g. when a dictator is rumoured to have fixed the contest to show off to the world). Certainly no other song in Eurovision channeled the spirit of Woodstock '69 more than this one. The mostly orchestra-free first minute is a welcome break from the usual bombast of the orchestra, and although the song builds to a rousing climax, I can't help but think it would have been stronger with just the two guitars all the way through. 8/10.
Frida Boccara, "Un jour, un enfant" (France)
After hearing this tremendous, almost apocalyptic ballad about an innocent child re-imagining the world, I'm beginning to make sense of this unusual four way tie. Each song is completely different from the others and would appeal to different voting demographics. Presumably, the older, golden age of classic songwriting fans would have voted for Frida Boccara and Salome, whereas the younger generation would have been drawn to the reactionary street cred of Lenny Kour and the bubblegum pop of Lulu. There is no right answer, although I would choose "De troubadour" by a hair over Un jour, en enfant". Boccara's performance is one to remember for sure, boasting the purest, strongest vocal delivery of any Eurovision winner thus far. And for trivia buffs, I believe that Frida Boccara was the first Jewish winner (performer, not songwriter) of Eurovision. 8/10.
Salome, "Vivo cantando" (Spain).
There are several notable things about this performance, starting with Salome's mile high beehive hairdo and pale blue dress that looks like a cross between scraggly animal fur and exotic beads. There's the tuxedo-clad barber shop trio that were beamed in from a completely different, much sleepier song. There's the way she loses herself in the song and resorts to dancing (against Eurovision rules at the time!), distracting herself from the singing she's supposed to be doing but upping the excitement factor of the song times ten. All these performance aspects add up to more than the sum of their parts -- this is arguably the first all sizzle, no (or very little) steak performance in Eurovision. The song doesn't amount to much, jumping between Broadway glitz, flamenco rave-up, and touching ballad, trying to cover all bases at once but never establishing an identity. Nevertheless, "Vivo cantando" helps establish the Eurovision tradition of putting on a wild performance with flashy costumes, dancing, and other bizarre gaga and hoping people won't notice the deficiencies of the song overlaying it. 6/10.
Lulu, "Boom Bang-a-Bang" (United Kingdom)
Lulu was a fairly big star when she represented the UK and her team clearly expected that to win the day for them in the contest. And hey, it worked. Lulu looked like the cuddly pink precursor to Meghan Trainor in the "All About That Bass" video, she won Eurovision, and "Boom Bang-a-Bang" was a massive hit in the UK and all over Europe. The song, however, is treacly nonsense that I never want to hear again. 3/10.
Lenny Kour, "De troubadour" (Netherlands)
I wouldn't have guessed that a straight up folk song with a strong protest/political bent actually won Eurovision exactly fifty years ago. Political songs are, and I assume were against the Eurovision rules except when the rules are arbitrarily ignored (e.g. when a dictator is rumoured to have fixed the contest to show off to the world). Certainly no other song in Eurovision channeled the spirit of Woodstock '69 more than this one. The mostly orchestra-free first minute is a welcome break from the usual bombast of the orchestra, and although the song builds to a rousing climax, I can't help but think it would have been stronger with just the two guitars all the way through. 8/10.
Frida Boccara, "Un jour, un enfant" (France)
After hearing this tremendous, almost apocalyptic ballad about an innocent child re-imagining the world, I'm beginning to make sense of this unusual four way tie. Each song is completely different from the others and would appeal to different voting demographics. Presumably, the older, golden age of classic songwriting fans would have voted for Frida Boccara and Salome, whereas the younger generation would have been drawn to the reactionary street cred of Lenny Kour and the bubblegum pop of Lulu. There is no right answer, although I would choose "De troubadour" by a hair over Un jour, en enfant". Boccara's performance is one to remember for sure, boasting the purest, strongest vocal delivery of any Eurovision winner thus far. And for trivia buffs, I believe that Frida Boccara was the first Jewish winner (performer, not songwriter) of Eurovision. 8/10.
Thursday, July 04, 2019
Glastonbury 2019
I have been watching clips from the festival all week and what is there to say? There are dozens of huge festivals all over the world each year, but playing at Glastonbury carries a certain gravitas and historical importance that other festivals can't match. I think the artists have bought into this too.
A lot has changed over the years. Miley Cyrus got into the Glastonbury spirit with a kitchen sink set of her songs, covers, and guest appearances. Can you imagine Mariah Carey or any of her contemporary female solo stars playing Glastonbury in the 90's? Or even Alanis Morrissette, to name a 90's artist more similar to Miley? It was unthinkable. When it came to festivals, Americans only knew Woodstock, which was a one off. In the post Woodstock era, festivals were the domain of hippies who liked folksy, countercultural bands that flew under the radar and were never heard on the radio. Festivals weren't the place for real stars. Today, Glastonbury is truly a global festival, on everyone's radar.
Glastonbury used to be a platform for underappreciated artists. Those 90's lineups are littered with bands who were ascending and "deserved" their chance to break through by headlining somewhere. Pulp's headlining set in 1995 (replacing the Stone Roses who cancelled after guitarist John Squire broke his arm mountain biking) is legendary. Radiohead's headlining set in 1997 is legendary for different reasons -- they held a huge crowd in a rapture, and made them forget their weekend of misery in horrendously muddy conditions -- and cemented the status they enjoy today. Skunk Anansie, Ash, and Carter USM all headlined (all three had huge hit albums in the UK but were never quite mainstream).
This year, that artist in that position was Stormzy. The Killers were arguably in that position when they headlined ... in 2007. What changes over twelve years these days? Didn't that used to be an eternity? The basis of The Killers' set list hasn't changed a whole lot since 2007, they still sculpt their gigs biggest moments around the hits from their first two albums. The Killers were classic rock almost upon arrival. Kylie had to pull out of her headlining spot in 2005 and here she was in 2019, still a legend, and attracting the biggest crowd of the festival and on TV. When the Stone Roses cancelled in 1995 they lost their chance to regain their spot at the peak of British rock. That chance was gone forever, the industry changed too quickly in those days, and they were broken up less than two years later.
Speaking of never changing, take The Cure. This year, everyone was in reverence over how brilliant they still sound after all these years. NME readers voted them the best headlining set of the weekend. The last time, they headlined, in 1995, nobody was talking about The Cure, least of all NME readers. I know because I read the NME nearly weekly in those days and The Cure's headlining set drew about two lines of coverage. People were giddy about Pulp stealing the festival, and whether Oasis were cracking under the pressure of the spotlight. The Cure had been inactive for about two years and already felt like antiques from a different era. They were giants who you had to respect in their spot, but they could no longer define the narrative.
This year, The Cure are still antiques from a different era, but it scarcely matters. They can play headlining sets at whatever festivals they want under the earth falls into the sun. Each time they blow away a festival crowd feels like the first time. They're as legendary as the Stones, but with a key difference. "Disintegration" could be released tomorrow, as is, and would still be a huge phenomenon. The lyrics, music, and production have all stayed current. Think about that, "Disintegration" is thirty years old (!!). When it was released in 1989, which 1959 rock god could have had a hit single or album in the then contemporary climate? Can you even imagine it?
A lot has changed over the years. Miley Cyrus got into the Glastonbury spirit with a kitchen sink set of her songs, covers, and guest appearances. Can you imagine Mariah Carey or any of her contemporary female solo stars playing Glastonbury in the 90's? Or even Alanis Morrissette, to name a 90's artist more similar to Miley? It was unthinkable. When it came to festivals, Americans only knew Woodstock, which was a one off. In the post Woodstock era, festivals were the domain of hippies who liked folksy, countercultural bands that flew under the radar and were never heard on the radio. Festivals weren't the place for real stars. Today, Glastonbury is truly a global festival, on everyone's radar.
Glastonbury used to be a platform for underappreciated artists. Those 90's lineups are littered with bands who were ascending and "deserved" their chance to break through by headlining somewhere. Pulp's headlining set in 1995 (replacing the Stone Roses who cancelled after guitarist John Squire broke his arm mountain biking) is legendary. Radiohead's headlining set in 1997 is legendary for different reasons -- they held a huge crowd in a rapture, and made them forget their weekend of misery in horrendously muddy conditions -- and cemented the status they enjoy today. Skunk Anansie, Ash, and Carter USM all headlined (all three had huge hit albums in the UK but were never quite mainstream).
This year, that artist in that position was Stormzy. The Killers were arguably in that position when they headlined ... in 2007. What changes over twelve years these days? Didn't that used to be an eternity? The basis of The Killers' set list hasn't changed a whole lot since 2007, they still sculpt their gigs biggest moments around the hits from their first two albums. The Killers were classic rock almost upon arrival. Kylie had to pull out of her headlining spot in 2005 and here she was in 2019, still a legend, and attracting the biggest crowd of the festival and on TV. When the Stone Roses cancelled in 1995 they lost their chance to regain their spot at the peak of British rock. That chance was gone forever, the industry changed too quickly in those days, and they were broken up less than two years later.
Speaking of never changing, take The Cure. This year, everyone was in reverence over how brilliant they still sound after all these years. NME readers voted them the best headlining set of the weekend. The last time, they headlined, in 1995, nobody was talking about The Cure, least of all NME readers. I know because I read the NME nearly weekly in those days and The Cure's headlining set drew about two lines of coverage. People were giddy about Pulp stealing the festival, and whether Oasis were cracking under the pressure of the spotlight. The Cure had been inactive for about two years and already felt like antiques from a different era. They were giants who you had to respect in their spot, but they could no longer define the narrative.
This year, The Cure are still antiques from a different era, but it scarcely matters. They can play headlining sets at whatever festivals they want under the earth falls into the sun. Each time they blow away a festival crowd feels like the first time. They're as legendary as the Stones, but with a key difference. "Disintegration" could be released tomorrow, as is, and would still be a huge phenomenon. The lyrics, music, and production have all stayed current. Think about that, "Disintegration" is thirty years old (!!). When it was released in 1989, which 1959 rock god could have had a hit single or album in the then contemporary climate? Can you even imagine it?
Friday, June 21, 2019
The Idan Raichel Project at Live Park Rishon (19/06)
On paper, Idan Raichel ticks so many of the right boxes. His music combines Middle Eastern, funk, klezmer, and a host of other world music elements that I wouldn't even be able to name into a multicultural fusion that few other artists anywhere in the world can compete with. That approach has made him into one of the few Israel musicians with a legitimate global profile.
What else? His "Project" is a true melting pot with a cast of some fifteen people on stage. His songs are a mix of Hebrew, Arabic, and Amharic. He's a proud Zionist. He seems genuinely humble and takes his role as a cultural ambassador seriously. Instead of having an opening band, he plays really long shows, with tonight's gig running about two and a half hours. He's as comfortable playing solo behind the piano, or accompanying one of his singers on a ballad, as being a cog in a full band churning through steamy grooves.
And yet, I've never found Raichel's songs to be all that good, save for some of his ballads. The uptempo stuff shows off a dazzling display of cultural virtuosity without being truly catchy. Unfortunately, the idea of the Idan Raichel Project is far better than the reality. I hoped that the spectacle of the live band would breathe more life into the songs -- plenty of bands sound OK on record but slay on stage, and a fifteen piece cross-cultural, cross-generational spectacle seemed like a good bet to fit that bill. The spectacle is there, but the songs aren't. It feels like the concert could be best enjoyed via a series of clips, where one can feel the power of the full band without having to press through the entire two hour plus journey.
What else? His "Project" is a true melting pot with a cast of some fifteen people on stage. His songs are a mix of Hebrew, Arabic, and Amharic. He's a proud Zionist. He seems genuinely humble and takes his role as a cultural ambassador seriously. Instead of having an opening band, he plays really long shows, with tonight's gig running about two and a half hours. He's as comfortable playing solo behind the piano, or accompanying one of his singers on a ballad, as being a cog in a full band churning through steamy grooves.
And yet, I've never found Raichel's songs to be all that good, save for some of his ballads. The uptempo stuff shows off a dazzling display of cultural virtuosity without being truly catchy. Unfortunately, the idea of the Idan Raichel Project is far better than the reality. I hoped that the spectacle of the live band would breathe more life into the songs -- plenty of bands sound OK on record but slay on stage, and a fifteen piece cross-cultural, cross-generational spectacle seemed like a good bet to fit that bill. The spectacle is there, but the songs aren't. It feels like the concert could be best enjoyed via a series of clips, where one can feel the power of the full band without having to press through the entire two hour plus journey.
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