The Stone Roses, "Garage Flower"

My second post in an ongoing series where I revisit an album that I haven't heard in over twenty years ...

I first bought this on a bootleg cassette around '93-'94, it was likely a copy of a copy (the level of tape hiss was bordering on unlistenable), was titled "Stone Roses: early demos" or something to that effect, and had a completely different running order than the official release in 1996.  Despite all this, I felt like I'd landed on a gold mine.  At a time when Roses fans were starving for new material during the (at the time) interminable wait for their second album, here were a dozen or so honest to goodness "unheard" Roses tracks, recorded years before they were famous. 

It wasn't a great album, but did it matter?  The seeds of greatness were clearly there.  the swagger, self-confidence, and Reni's fierce drumming all shine through.  It was clearly an important chapter in the Roses' story. 

At the time, I didn't realise that Martin Hannett had produced the album.  That was due to me not being completely attuned to his style -- it's quite obviously him once you know what to listen for.  But these were also the pre-internet days where getting information about something like this was nearly impossible.  I knew nothing about this album other than what was written on the cover of the cassette.  There were no details about the recording (date, studio, personnel ...) and even the song titles were all wrong. 

Hearing "Garage Flower" today, it's clear that Hannett was the wrong person to produce the Stone Roses.  The instruments, and John Squire's guitar in particular, form a muddy, echo-filled blur.  Squire's guitar lines, which were such an essential part of the debut album's bluster, are completely buried under multiple layers of studio trickery.  Ian Brown's nasally voice was always cited as the weak point in the band, but Hannett's solution (drench him in reverb) is far inferior to John Leckie's on the eventual debut (add simple harmonies and have him sing in a more airy tone).  That being said, Hannett wasn't a bad choice for producing *this version* of the Roses, because the songs weren't there yet, and at the time, he probably made them sound better than they actually were.  They certainly sound different than other bands of the time, almost proto-shoegaze and with none of the classic rock and jangly guitar pop elements that they'd later be known for. 

"Garage Flower" was shelved in 1985, but we can still compare it to Happy Mondays' debut album released in the same year (because of course we do ...).  In both cases, once you've heard the first three or four songs, you've heard all of their tricks.  The Mondays had zero tunes to speak of, but could work their way round a simple but infectious groove.  John Cale polished what little talent they had into a hypnotic VU-style drum/guitar loop, and all in all, these days, their debut is more fun to listen to than "Garage Flower".  However, the Roses were far closer to the peak version of themselves than the Mondays were.  "I Wanna Be Adored" and "This Is the One", the two "Garage Flower" songs that eventually appeared on their debut, are far from being the standout tracks.  With slower tempos, more dynamic highs and lows, and guitar playing that can actually be heard, both would sound immeasurably better on the debut four years later.  In general, their formula of shouty intro leading to an aggressive drum fill and caterwauling guitars can't be sustained over an entire album.  It must be said, however, that even at this stage, the Roses had a knack for landing the big chorus.  Again, the elements are there, but they hadn't made the Leap. 

   

Jean Sibelius

I am slowly making my way through Alex Ross' exhausting but fascinating "The Rest Is Noise".  I am in the middle of the chapter that covers Berlin in the 1920's, and the sheer volume of music I need to hear is overwhelming -- the audio clips on the book's website are just the tip of the iceberg.  But the biggest revelation for me by far has been the music and the cultural force that was Jean Sibelius. 

Youtube comment boxes are filled with comparisons between Sibelius' music and the climate and nature in Finland.  The wind, frost, snow, and darkness are frequently referenced, "THIS IS FINLAND!" is a common exclamation that shows, even one hundred years later, that the music speaks to the depth of the Finnish soul in ways that outsiders can't entirely appreciate.  The intricate linkage between the innate character of the musicians' home country and their music reminds me of the writing surrounding Sigur Ros, at least for their earlier albums.  Had Sibelius been born 75 years later, he might have become a Steve Roach-type of composer and produced electronic-based freeform ambient and tribal-ambient works.  The way Sibelius draws out the passages in his symphonies, giving the feeling of time slowing to a crawl, makes him the most "ambient" of orchestral composers that I've heard.  His knack of landing, for lack of a better phrase, the "big notes" is truly wondrous, drawing timbres from the massed orchestra that you just don't hear from most composers.  The overall effect is similar to electronic drone music -- unique tonality + time stretching = motion and form within the notes that can't be heard otherwise.