Donna Summer, "Gold" (Disc 2)

For the casual fan, this two disc set would be all the Donna Summer they really need.  For a complete newbie giving the collection a first glance, it would appear that each half of her career is given equal weight -- the first ten years on the first disc, and the next ten years on the second disc.  But even a listener with a passing familiarity of her songs would know that isn't true.  All her most famous songs are on Disc 1 -- and I'd be willing to bet that over 95 percent of what's been written about Donna Summer is centred on the Moroder-Bellote-Summer golden era.  I found myself in the mood to hear her music and even I grabbed Disc 2 completely by mistake and didn't realize it until I was out of the house.  

But as far as my own memories go, I'm too young to remember her 70's peak first hand.  Much like with Elton John, I was aware of who Donna Summer was as early as '79-'80 (my parents were big disco fans and "Bad Girls" was on heavy rotation in our house) but didn't really hear her as a contemporary artist and follow her songs in the charts until the MTV/Much Music revolution started.  So I have a soft spot for those 80's hits, starting with "She Works Hard For the Money" and its accompanying video starring Summer as a bored and exhausted waitress in a diner.  

The two discs of "Gold" form an interesting narrative.  Disc 1 showcases the perfect creative partnership between producer, songwriter, and performer.  The whole was galvanized into more than the sum of its parts, Summer's identity as an artist is fully formed even in the early days, she and her team nailed the formula from their very first record together and spent the rest of the decade perfecting it even further.  

Disc 2 tells a completely different story.  Disco has faded, and Summer looks to stay relevant.  She ditches her production team and tries something new, again, and again, and again.  She spends the rest of the decade trying to see what sticks.  Nothing does, at least not for more than an album's worth of material.  However, for the most part the results are very successful.  Rihanna was a chameleon of sorts, and could easily adapt to the style of her producer of choice.  Similarly, Donna Summer post-1980 could do a little bit of everything.  She had a last hurrah with Moroder, trying out the Minneapolis sound on "The Wanderer".  She did a stint with the "Thriller" crew, working with Rod Temperton and Quincy Jones on "Love Is In Control", which wouldn't have been far out of place on an album during MJ's imperial phase.  She anticipated ambient house with the jaw-dropping Quincy Jones/Vangelis collaboration "State of Independence".  Seriously, this record is a soul-stirring masterpiece, and I'm not exaggerating about the ambient house reference. 

Then she channeled Pat Benetar, going fem-rock lite with "She Works Hard For the Money" in collaboration with yet another superstar producer, Michael Omartian.  She followed that with another Omartian-produced single, dipping her toes into reggae by bringing in Musical Youth to sing backing vocals on "Unconditional Love".  It's yet another underrated single, with a fun and carefree music video to go along with it, kind of like Eddy Grant on an uncharacteristically bright day.  

The next few years were less successful as she experimented with classic rock (covering Lieber and Stoller) and smooth R&B ("Dinner With Gershwin"), a bit desperate to find a new niche.  This was like "Evita"-era Madonna happening ten years earlier, it's as if she wanted to leave the pop world behind altogether and cruise the awards show circuit.  Fortunately, she soon returned to her dance/club roots by latching onto the hi-NRG hitmakers whose names practically defined a genre -- Stock, Aitken, and Waterman.  "This Time I Know It's For Real" was a comeback of sorts, but "I Don't Wanna Get Hurt" is even better in that undefinable way that minimally separates any paint by numbers SAW production from virtually any other.   

She later worked with Civilles and Cole -- correctly identifying them as the early 90's dance music producers of choice.  She later dabbled in smooth R&B, knowing that the likes of All 4 One and Boyz II Men were taking off with that style.  When the winds of change passed through, Donna Summer always knew where to stand.   She even recorded "Con Te Partiro" (albeit in a cheesy dance version) before Andrea Bocelli made it his signature song.   

I can't pretend that any of this material is as incendiary as the songs on Disc 1.  So many disco stars never escaped the 70's, but Summer continued making hits well into the 90's, and in the course of getting there, found about ten different ways to transcend her disco diva image.  She was consistently interesting, always adapting, and never reverting to old formulas.  She was never more than one fluky collaboration away from a full-fledged comeback along the lines of Cher's "Believe".  And you'd better, um, believe, that Summer could have sung the daylights out of that song, in that style of dance music, if the opportunity had presented itself.   

Garbage, "Version 2", why?

I generally enjoy reading the Pitchfork Review.  I enjoy the concept -- in general, it's a deep dive into an album that was underappreciated in its time.  I can also respect the use of creative license by building up an album into something greater than it was, after all, that's what hooks the reader and gets them invested in songs or artists they may not be too familiar with.  But on one hand, there's mild exaggeration and overreach to drive home a point, and on the other hand, there's this ludicrous review of Garbage's second album by Sadie Sartini Garner.  

The first few paragraphs are devoted to woefully overheated prose about the purported trailblazing greatness of Shirley Manson, falling somewhere between a publicists' cry for attention and fanfic-lite.  "Female fronted rock band" was a tired cliche by the time Garbage hit the scene, smart and engaging women leading male-dominated bands was well understood and completely accepted by all.  Manson wasn't the least bit more interesting than anyone else, she was merely more successful than most.  Let's move on, because that's the least of this article's problems.  

The article then struggled to attribute an iota of originality to Garbage.  They were one of the most derivative major bands of the 90's!  Garner even lists all the bands whose ideas they lifted, albeit in an offhandedly vague way, e.g. "Curve had already bridged the worlds of shoegaze and UK club music".  Garbage's entire act -- their sound, image, and attitude -- was a near carbon copy of Curve, and everybody who listened to Curve in the 90's knew it! 

Then there's this howler, "No band did more to shape the techno-utopian vibes of Y2K than Garbage did with Version 2.0."  Even by the logic presented in this article, that sentence is nonsensical.  The final two paragraphs are about Garbage's rapid descent into irrelevance just two years later.  They shaped the future, but when the future arrived (a whopping 24 months later?!) they were unwelcome in it?  Garner tries to write a weepy ending by blaming other bands for overtaking Garbage and stealing the future out from under their noses.  No, Garbage were copycatting poseurs who sold millions of CDs by successfully marketing the ideas of other, better bands, and when their narrow window of commercial opportunity closed, they were done.  They were overtaken by fresher, hungrier bands that sounded different than them.  Everyone got what they deserved.  As for the "techno-utopian Y2K" vibes, it's almost as if dance-rock hybrids with a dash of end of the millennium uncertainty wasn't being peddled by ... just about every rock band that dabbled in electronica from 1997 onward.   

Nitzer Ebb, "Body of Work"

 I listened to this collection for the first time in years, and even for lapsed fans of the band who fondly remember throwing their bodies around on industrial club nights over thirty years, this is really all the Nitzer Ebb you'll ever need.  The remix CD is disappointingly patchy, the William Orbit and Flood remixes are far from their best work, and the George Clinton remix of "Fun To Be Had" isn't nearly as entertaining as you'd hope it would be.  "Hearts and Minds (Mix Hypersonic)", re-constructed by Daniel Miller and Nitzer Ebb, remains indispensable though.

The liner notes fawn over Nitzer Ebb as a visionary band far ahead of its time, which struck me as quite the exaggeration when I bought this CD over fifteen years ago.  For me, they were the quintessential band of their time, a perfect mesh of Euro EBM and Chicago-style industrial thrash.  This music had its moment and faded away like so many other 80's and 90's genres, and that's OK.  On the other hand, when listening to "Come Alive" now, I can appreciate how it anticipates Depeche Mode's "Sounds of the Universe" and other analog synth-drenched warm blippy electronica that was popular in the 00's.  

I still love "Lightning Man", it was and probably remains my favourite song by the band, but if there's another song that affirms this level of awesomeness while overcoming such preposterous lyrics, I have yet to hear it.  Nobody listens to Nitzer Ebb for their philosophical depth, it was always about the robotic chants, but even with thirty years of perspective, literally every line in "Lightning Man" makes absolutely no sense.  And yet, does this matter in the least? 

Oasis reunites, sort of

This has been the biggest story in music over the past few days, even though it's just the Gallagher brothers reuniting without any other original members of the band.  Now, I doubt there's any added money to be made by announcing the names of additional backing band members.  But Liam Gallagher has been performing "Definitely Maybe" with his own band in arenas across the UK.  Does adding Noel produce more than the sum of the two parts, i.e. an upgrade from 10K seat arenas to 60K seat football stadiums?  Apparently it does, although I have been surprised at the demand and excitement for the reunion so far.  With a year to go before the shows actually happen, the hype can only get bigger.  

Of course, (almost) everybody reunites.  Reliable estimates predict that the tour will draw 400 million pounds, with each Gallagher earning 50 million.  And that's just for the fourteen shows announced thus far!  How stupid would Noel and Liam have to be to not mend fences, at least temporarily (or pretend to mend fences!) with that kind of money at stake.  This only could have happened post-divorces (driving the need for extra income) and post-COVID (driving the demand and prices for concerts way up).  Obviously Taylor Swift and Coldplay have been able to print money with multi-year tours and ridiculous demand.  But the better comparison for Oasis would be Guns 'n' Roses, who took two killer albums released decades ago, a bitter rivalry with a miraculous reunion, and milked it for kingly sums of money for much longer than anyone thought possible.  Another example would be Jane's Addiction, whose reputation is also based on two huge albums (the post-reunion material, much like nearly anything released by Oasis after 1996, are fairly inconsequential), who have settled into a lucrative never-ending touring routine with surprisingly excellent reviews.  

And I'll say it again -- Morrissey may be insufferable and perpetually on the verge of being cancelled, Johnny Marr has a successful solo career and never hesitates to throw shade on the idea, and Andy Rourke recently passed away -- never say never to a Smiths reunion.  The money will be there, they just have to want it enough.    

Music in Canada summer '24

What are the hot new sounds in Canada this summer?  I have no clue!  However, I have been listening repeatedly to a top 100 Canadian songs playlist on Spotify, composed of classic Canadian rock from the 70's through the 90's.  Essentially these are the songs I grew up with, and it didn't matter whether you loved or hated them, because they were everywhere and they were the songs you absorbed simply by being near a radio while growing up in Canada during those decades.  

Funny how many of these songs sound better than ever, probably because we all eventually revert back to idolizing the stuff we heard when we were young.  But on the other hand, my six year old spontaneously breaks into singing BTO's "Taking Care of Business", so perhaps there is an objective case to be made for the indisputable greatness of this music compared to whatever the kids listen to these days.  

Amongst the Guess Who and Bryan Adams hits (guess what?  I can even tolerate "(Everything I Do) I Do It For You" these days), still sleek and edgy new wave classics (Rough Trade's "High School Confidential", Spoons' "Nova Heart"), hearing these songs gives me a reason to revisit The Tragically Hip and their complete lack of success in America.  "Fully Completely" was supposed to be the breakthrough, but with "Nevermind" and "Ten" blowing up on alternative radio in 1992, what chance did the Hip have with MOR pub rock and Gord Downie's twisted introspective ramblings?  The production is really thin and reedy too, projecting too many remnants of dated 1980's production.  The drums are absurdly gated and plastic-sounding, the guitar too clean, the vocals too upfront.  There's simply no bite to the music, nothing to grab the attention of the average Soundgarden or Alice In Chains fan.  Perhaps the hope was they'd hop on with REM's audience, but REM had been steadily building their US fanbase for a decade to that point.  The Tragically Hip had no history there.  "Fully Completely" is still a great album once you invite it in, but they needed to blast down the doors to get noticed in America in 1992 and this wasn't the album for it.         

Berry Sakharof, Mosh Ben Arie (live by the water in Rosh Haayin, July 18)

I'm not familiar with many of Mosh Ben Arie's songs, but I did learn that he's an excellent guitarist, much better than I was expecting.  But this is really a post about Berry Sakharof, who was essentially my gateway into modern Israeli rock.  Growing up in the 80's, Israeli music meant Ofra Haza, Nomi Shemer, and many interchangeable folksy ditties in the Peter, Paul and Mary style.  About eighteen years ago, Sakharof's album "Negiot" was recommended to me as a prime example of a maverick talent who had seamlessly adapted his style across different eras, and whose lyrics were thoughtful and edgy.  Indeed, he was as good as advertised.  David Bowie and Eric Clapton went through their electronica phases in the late 90's, so too did Berry Sakharof.  But Clapton and Bowie wanted to capitalize on contemporary trends in the short term, and quickly moved back into styles they were more comfortable with, with the collaborators they were accustomed to working with.  Sakharof's electronica and d'n'b-tinged songs became some of his most beloved and enduring hits. He continued to evolve, working with unexpected collaborators and releasing music in hybrid rock-adjacent genres.

On this night, Sakharof plays a trim 50-minute set of highlights from his deep catalog.  His deep baritone is a bit weathered as he moves into his late 60's, but each performance is impeccable.  You never know how long these great artists will stick around, and it's never too late to see them.     

Max Oleartchik

Yesterday I randomly happened to think about Max and Big Thief (a band whose music I have admittedly never heard).  I believe I was reading about the suspended Harvard and Columbia college students getting their suspensions lifted without any consequences or further punishments.  The naive (or perhaps delusional) university administrators behind these decisions clearly want the whole controversy to blow over, but they don't understand that the next time will be far more tragic.  The next time, rather than merely threatening violence, these perpetrators will be prepared to use it.  When actions carry consequences, escalation is sure to follow.  Then my mind jumped to Big Thief's silly decision to cancel their Tel Aviv concerts in 2022.  Their explanations made no sense -- they had played in Israel a number of times previously but those gigs flew under the radar because they presumably weren't a big enough deal in the US -- and those actions didn't defuse the situation, they escalated it. 

I was thinking about those things yesterday.  Today, uncannily, we learned that Max Oleartchik (son of Israeli classic rock legend Alon Oleartchik) has left Big Thief, or was fired, we don't really know because the band's official statement was impossible to parse and filled with bullshit about infinite love and mutual respect.  Funny, I thought that mutual respect meant having due consideration for the roots and ethnicity of others, and that infinite love would trump selfish careerism and virtue signaling.  Clearly Big Thief's Adrianne Lenker has chosen her side.  Truly, there are many things in her world that are "naive and not thought out", but playing shows in her bandmate's hometown should not have been one of them.  

Big Thief haven't played live in almost a year but have a string of high profile festival dates lined up next month.  Obviously they're not going to bring in a new bassist this late in the game, so clearly Oleartchik's departure happened some time ago and they've managed to keep it secret until now.  

Giving in to the mob has never worked and never will.  I have watched this from up close for nearly two decades.  Artists who refuse to be bullied or threatened are left alone.  Those who give in may think they're promoting peace and understanding, but they're actually inviting more hate.  Big Thief should understand that this isn't over. Max's departure will be the subject of every interview and every in-depth profile for years.  Oh, and do you think that the hordes will go back to adoring you now that the "zionist" is out of the band?  No, they'll excoriate you for associating with him, for playing Tel Aviv in the past, for reaping profits on songs shaped by their former bassist.  It won't end, and your shame hasn't come close to peaking.  

PJ Harvey, "Let England Shake - Demos"

I haven't heard any of the demos or B-sides/rarities collections that PJ Harvey has released over the past few years.  Why not start with demos of one of the best albums of the past thirty years?

These recordings were made at her home in Dorset in 2008.  Remarkably, the melodies and lyrics are nearly identical to those on the proper recording, which was released some three years later.  These kinds of recording usually invite discussion over which demos might be better than the studio versions, but I don't think there is any point in discussing that.  The short answer is that the studio recording is far better because the instrumentation, arrangements, and vocals are immeasurably richer and more innovative.  But the demos offer a fascinating glimpse into what a PJ Harvey solo tour might sound like.  On that basis alone, the demo album rewards repeated listens.  

Sonically, it also offers a number of interesting ideas and gives insights into her creative process.  I had no idea that the opening melody in the title track was a twisted, macabre take on the song "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)".  It's much better that the sample was left out of the studio recording, but the connection is obvious when you hear them together.  Same for the Eddie Cochran sample on "The Words That Maketh Murder" -- the lyric works much better as the surprise ending of sorts, rather than telegraphing it from the start using the sample.  Elsewhere, the lo-fi nature of the demo adds a gritty intensity to songs like "Bitter Branches".  The echo and reverb on many tracks gives a cathedral-like quality and gravitas to many of the songs, despite the sparse instrumentation. 

"The Colour of the Earth" presents probably the biggest contrast between the studio and demo versions.  A big part of that is Polly's vocal, rather than the Mick Harvey lead on the album.  I find Polly's version crushingly sad, it communicates the pity and tragedy of war better (arguably) than any song on either the studio or demo recordings.  The Mick Harvey vocal conveys a sense of pride for the necessary sacrifice, while still placing the song's emphasis on solemnly mourning the dead.  But Polly's vocal strips away any semblance of the heroism involved, only the grotesque sight of dried blood and anguished cries of the soldiers remain.        

One Dove, "Morning Dove White"

I was happy to see this album featured in the Pitchfork Review because it's been largely forgotten by anyone who wasn't around in '93.  And even then it was very much an underground cult hit.  I didn't hear the full album until about fifteen years later, at the time, it because a fave go-to for some of my early podcast mixes, or for fresh all over again downtempo listening in general.  When Andrew Weatherall passed away, I remarked that I'd come to like "Morning Dove White" more than "Screamadelica".  I think the Primal Scream album is a better production achievement, considering that he essentially invented a new genre out of nothing (the dance-rock makeover), but the One Dove record is the superior album.  

Pitchfork got the setting wrong though.  One Dove were not a rock band dabbling in dance, when I listen to them I don't hear a rock band first and foremost.  The suggestion is fairly ridiculous -- they were a rock band because certain songs have guitar solos?  So did Underworld at around the same time, and they weren't a rock band by any means.   I think the One Dove/rock association gets retroactively added because of the Weatherall-Primal Scream connection.  Primal Scream were undoubtedly a rock band whose career was transformed by working with Weatherall, who worked with One Dove around the same time, ergo, the situations for the two bands are similar.  But in my opinion that comparison is incorrect.  

For a few years in the 1990's, "ambient" was a catch-all buzzword to describe all sorts of non-rave dance music and downtempo pseudo-chill out stuff, and even rock/post-rock bands that dabbled in dance or dub (e.g. Seefeel) or lounge/lo-fi (Stereolab).  People were actively seeking out alternatives to the ecstasy/smashed off one's face club scene while still keeping their finger on the pulse of club music.  One Dove fit perfectly into this lazily defined category.  Yes, it was silly and confusing and non-sensical to lump so many disparate acts under the "ambient" umbrella and everyone knew it.  The moniker was openly mocked, even on the scale of expected mockery of absurdly concocted "scenes", but the name was used and used regularly.  well as and people actively sought out mellower downtempo stuff.  Listen to the first "Excursions In Ambience" compilation and you'll hear nothing resembling the beatless extended drone that was associated with the term "ambient" by 1994-5.   One Dove fit nicely into that early 90's "ambient" genre, alongside acts that nobody would possibly confuse with rock music.  

Like with many "forgotten" albums, "Morning Dove White" came around at the wrong time.   Years later, St Germain's "Tourist" became the coffee shop downtempo house album of choice for people who hate dancing.   In an alternative universe, "MDW" could have been that soundtrack. 

"All Yesterday's Parties: The Velvet Underground in Print 1966-1971", ed. Clinton Heylin

I bought this book several years ago with high expectations.  But every time I opened it and began to read, I quickly became bored.  Now, after finally slogging through the entire book after a number of false starts and lengthy breaks, I can't really recommend it unless you're doing research for a VU article.  Nevertheless, it does feel like an important work because almost everything about the VU was written after they split up.  Their massive influence on generations of bands is unimpeachable, but over the years I'd heard conflicting accounts about what people thought of them while they were active.  The basic story stated that they were widely shunned and even hated, outside of the rare visionary such as Lester Bangs who appreciated their genius.   The truth seemed to be more nuanced.  For most of their existence, people simply didn't know who the VU were, and you can't hate what you've never heard of.

This articles in this collection provide a mirror into the development of the music press itself.  In 1966 the coverage was done by entertainment reporters with some general knowledge about music, many of whom feigned curiosity in a band like the VU thanks to the Warhol association.  Half of the book covers the 1970-1971 period, by which point the writing takes on the tone of the modern music press, with music-only specialist writers offering insightful criticism and context.  

Clinton Heylin's introductory essay is nearly unreadable.  Filled with cryptic prose and long, scene-setting description that made little sense, it did nothing to explain or enlighten anything about the articles that follow. 

Given the dearth of  audio and video recordings from the Warhol years, a first-hand, insider's view of the band would be welcome.  But the first person accounts of the Exploding Plastic Inevitable shows are mainly short (less than a thousand words and often not more than a couple hundred) descriptions by baffled and overwhelmed writers.  Although if you've heard the audio of a concert from the time, in order to have a reference point (my first exposure was a bootleg of Columbus from November 4, 1966), you can read the account by Larry Mccombs from Chicago July 1966, close your eyes and almost imagine being there. 

There's an intolerable Lou Reed interview from 1969  in Open City (Reed at his absolute worst) which is balanced by a charming 1970 interview with Sterling Morrison for Fusion.  I didn't know anything about Fusion, but judging by the articles in this anthology, they had consistently good coverage of the VU.

The best material is from the last two years 1970-1971, with contributions from many excellent writers who report on the upcoming release of Loaded, the Max's Kansas City residency in New York in the summer of '70, and its aftermath with Lou Reed quitting the group.  This is where the narrative formed about the VU as an underrated entity that deserved a wider audience.  One even gets the impression that "Loaded" might have been a breakthrough album for them, given its radio friendly sensibilities and a seeming willingness by Atlantic to promote the album properly.  

Reading the 1970-1971 material got me thinking about which VU member "won" their early 90's reunion. Cale's recollections in his autobiography "What's Welsh For Zen" were mostly negative.  He wrote that Reed and his management team took over everything, presenting the reunion as a vehicle for Reed.  Cale didn't like the sound mixing on stage, and felt that the band didn't sound daring or adventurous enough. Cale also insisted that he wouldn't do the reunion without new material, and "Coyote" was written to placate him.  This surely wasn't what Cale had in mind -- a jukebox of their old songs and a single, new song (a substandard composition for either man) as a perfunctory nod toward being a living, contemporary band.  The VU split up only a couple of months into what could have been a creatively and financially successful reunion tour, they didn't play a single concert in the US.  

I have little doubt that the failure of the reunion was mostly due to Reed.  He wanted to rebrand himself as an alt-rock pioneer and get the acclaim that the likes of Neil Young did once grunge took off in 1991.  The VU were the expendable backing band in that pursuit.  But in the long run, Cale "won" the reunion  by successfully repackaging the VU as the Reed/Cale experimental drone rock version, rather than the FM radio friendly Reed/Yule version.  Their insistence at excluding Doug Yule meant that the live sets were heavy on the first two albums and the "V.U."/"Another View" material that Cale contributed to in '68 and '69.  Thus, Cale emerged from the reunion as the irreplaceable soul of the VU, who quietly faded into obscurity when he left.  But "All Yesterday's Parties" (and live documents such as the Quine Tapes) clearly show that the VU's best days as a touring band, and their best shot at national stardom came in the Yule era.  The advance press for "Loaded" was glowing and receptive. There was actual anticipation surrounding the record, and considering its accessibility, they had a finite shot at a breakthrough that would have been impossible with Cale in the band.