A typically great year for mixes ... mixes never go into a slump! As in past years, the list is unranked and presented in chronological order of release.
Shapednoise, FACT Mix 482 (February 9)
One hour of caustic, savage noise and garburated beats, it's the perfect introduction to the world of Shapednoise.
Logos, Resident Advisor Podcast RA.456 (February 23)
A captivating twenty minute beatless intro, followed by a noisy load of abstract electro and bass music. There are countless surprising turns and unexpected transitions here. On some days, this was my favourite mix of the year, but it was eventually topped by an even more adventurous mix.
JD Twitch, Bigfoot Series 001 (It's a Nuclear War; It's a Motherfucker) (March)
Twitch's "tribute" to the threat of nuclear war, immortalized in song from Sun Ra to Frankie Goes to Hollywood.
Lowlight Mixes, The Ambient Dishwasher (April)
Arguably the finest selector of ambient music on Mixcloud, Lowlight Mixes produced consistently great work this year, but this mix stood out for its unforgettable theme. For most of us, a malfunctioning dishwasher is just that, but for some, it's the perfect source material for blissfully chopped and stretched new ambient music.
The Cyclist, FACT Mix 498 (June 1)
The year's finest mix clocks in at an economical fifty minutes, but is packed with more preposterously ambitious transitions than most podcast series manage over the course of a year. Anyone who can finding the common thread to seamlessly connect such a wide flung range of tracks is hearing music on a impossibly high level of intuitive understanding. Flawless, and best of all, it's an easy and fun listen.
Exium, Blocaus Podcast 13 (June 13)
Cavernously heavy and dark, it's the best way to experience the feeling of being in a club at 4 AM without having to leave the house.
Carlos Suffront, Bunker Podcast 98 (June 16)
Perhaps the most surprising thing about the epic Aphex Twin filedump is that more DJ's didn't megamix the whole lot like Carlos Suffront did. The mix isn't as mindblowing as you'd expect given the source material, but consider the degree of difficulty here.
Fotomachine, Juno Plus Podcast 115 (June 24)
This mix is so bleak it should come with its own Prozac prescription. Barely functioning on the very fringes of what might get an open minded dancefloor to grudgingly move their feet and dance, many of these tracks are bordering on unclassifiable. A good number of the transitions are unmixed, but the track selection is so good that it only becomes apparent after multiple listens.
Max_M, Gouru.fr Podcast 77 (July 30)
Another predictably great mix from the minimal techno master, sadly, this may have been his final recorded mix before his sudden death from cancer in May.
Oake, Secret Thirteen Mix 170 (December 15)
After posting one of the finest mixes I've ever heard in February of '14, Secret Thirteen quickly became one of my favourite podcasts and became the favourite of mine in '15. This collection of gloomy noisescapes and industrial-tinged techno is the kind of sound I've been trying to nail down on some of my own mixes since forever.
Monday, December 28, 2015
Three albums I didn't "get" in 2015
This year my tastes fell way out of step with the hype surrounding the most talked about electronic music , and I couldn't quite put my finger on the reason why. Predictably, everything became much clearer after reading Philip Sherburne's excellent essay on The Year in Electronic Music for Pitchfork. Wild hybridizations were in, and genre purism was out. Sherburne notes that many of these hybrid styles are made by LGBT artists who are accustomed to being outsiders and never saw themselves bound by the so-called rules of making music in a particular genre.
A backlash against genre purism comes along every few years in electronic music, so the mashing of otherwise disparate styles hardly represents a revolution. The problem is that so much of this stuff, to me, sounds like a modern take on Tigerbeat6's adolescent nihilism, which I didn't enjoy 10-15 years ago either. One of the few exceptions is Arca, who combines Actress' unconventional cut-up approach to rhythms with the twisted melodicism of 90's Autechre at their peak.
Oneohtrix Point Never, "Garden of Delete"
Speaking of Autechre, this one takes the schizophrenia of their 21st century output and adds more humour and pathos. On paper it sounds great. On paper "Draft 7:30" was a great idea too. Praise for that album usually starts with "wow, how did they generate that sound? This is so much more advanced than 'Tri Repetae'!". It also ends there, because debates over sound creation are as boring as sin, Autechre's best work never had to be compared to alien creatures coaxing unheard of sounds out of their equipment, no matter what you've heard to the contrary. "Garden of Delete" is one of those albums where I can't remember a thing about it as soon as it's over, which is a shame because there are a million different things happening here and you'd think that one or two of them would be more memorable. There's a wacky sense of ADD-style humour at play that feels like a cross between Kid606 and Duck Sauce -- two notorious novelty acts.
Dawn Richard, "Blackheart"
It's a story that poptimist critics can't help but love. "Making the Band" alumnus and former P. Diddy lackey breaks the mold with a most un-girl band-like album of dark electronica. But there's nothing eye opening here, just R&B made by producers who never met a breakbeat or a filter tweak they didn't like and have a hankering for Burial.
Suzanne Sundfor, "Ten Love Songs"
I invested a lot of time with this album and wanted to like it so badly. The pedigree is there -- she's got a great voice, worked with solid producers, and the world definitely needs an OTT orchestral pop album. Maybe Sundfor is a victim of high expectations, in that nothing here comes close to the grandiosity of "Oblivion" (with M83). The album is missing that majestic spark that made "Oblivion" so memorable, and not so carefully straddles the "McCarthur Park" line between parody and high drama.
A backlash against genre purism comes along every few years in electronic music, so the mashing of otherwise disparate styles hardly represents a revolution. The problem is that so much of this stuff, to me, sounds like a modern take on Tigerbeat6's adolescent nihilism, which I didn't enjoy 10-15 years ago either. One of the few exceptions is Arca, who combines Actress' unconventional cut-up approach to rhythms with the twisted melodicism of 90's Autechre at their peak.
Oneohtrix Point Never, "Garden of Delete"
Speaking of Autechre, this one takes the schizophrenia of their 21st century output and adds more humour and pathos. On paper it sounds great. On paper "Draft 7:30" was a great idea too. Praise for that album usually starts with "wow, how did they generate that sound? This is so much more advanced than 'Tri Repetae'!". It also ends there, because debates over sound creation are as boring as sin, Autechre's best work never had to be compared to alien creatures coaxing unheard of sounds out of their equipment, no matter what you've heard to the contrary. "Garden of Delete" is one of those albums where I can't remember a thing about it as soon as it's over, which is a shame because there are a million different things happening here and you'd think that one or two of them would be more memorable. There's a wacky sense of ADD-style humour at play that feels like a cross between Kid606 and Duck Sauce -- two notorious novelty acts.
Dawn Richard, "Blackheart"
It's a story that poptimist critics can't help but love. "Making the Band" alumnus and former P. Diddy lackey breaks the mold with a most un-girl band-like album of dark electronica. But there's nothing eye opening here, just R&B made by producers who never met a breakbeat or a filter tweak they didn't like and have a hankering for Burial.
Suzanne Sundfor, "Ten Love Songs"
I invested a lot of time with this album and wanted to like it so badly. The pedigree is there -- she's got a great voice, worked with solid producers, and the world definitely needs an OTT orchestral pop album. Maybe Sundfor is a victim of high expectations, in that nothing here comes close to the grandiosity of "Oblivion" (with M83). The album is missing that majestic spark that made "Oblivion" so memorable, and not so carefully straddles the "McCarthur Park" line between parody and high drama.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Diary of Musical Thoughts Podcast Episode 27
"On the second day of the convention the mix announced it was taking a $68 million quarterly loss" - 66 minutes
Inspired by a few mixes heard here and there (particularly from the often excellent Secret Thirteen podcast), I wanted to assemble a blissed out, downtempo mix where the tracks meshed together without necessarily beatmatching every transition. I strove for a consistent sound by repeatedly using two tracks from the same album (call it cheating if you must). Including proggy tracks was also a must for some reason. And yet again there is a track from the remix compilation of No Movement No Sound No Memories. That disc is a goldmine for mixes -- you can find a track that fits perfectly with nearly every mix you want to make.
Inspired by a few mixes heard here and there (particularly from the often excellent Secret Thirteen podcast), I wanted to assemble a blissed out, downtempo mix where the tracks meshed together without necessarily beatmatching every transition. I strove for a consistent sound by repeatedly using two tracks from the same album (call it cheating if you must). Including proggy tracks was also a must for some reason. And yet again there is a track from the remix compilation of No Movement No Sound No Memories. That disc is a goldmine for mixes -- you can find a track that fits perfectly with nearly every mix you want to make.
On the second day of the convention the mix announced it was taking a $68 million quarterly loss by Bruiserfs on Mixcloud
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Top ten albums of 2015
I won't remember 2015 as a great year for new music, and in a few years time I doubt I'll rank any albums from this year among my all-time favourites. However, there was a steady stream of quality music trickling out all year long, and I don't think I fully appreciated that until I started putting together this list and realized how many notable albums there were to choose from.
I wrote the previous paragraph as an intro to last year's top ten list. Technically, only the first part of it is still true. I remain conflicted about several of these albums -- will I still be listening to them regularly in one year's time? From last year's list, only Fennesz and Alcest have remained in heavy rotation throughout 2015. Are they great albums, or only fleetingly great when you binge listen to them when they're new? Are they only great when you compare them to lesser albums from the same year? What happens once the year passes and those albums have to hold their own against other great albums, rather than against the detritus released that same year?
As for the second half of that opening paragraph, I did appreciate the steady stream of quality music throughout the year, and was consistently surprised this year by albums that exceeded my expectations. That includes most of the albums on this year's top ten. However, looking back at 2015 as a whole, the sum seems less than the sum of its parts. Almost nothing disappointed me, and there was a lot of like, but perhaps not enough music to truly love.
I don't want to reprint that opening paragraph every year, but is this the start of a trend? Hopefully not. The music on my 2011-2013 lists was strong enough to cast a shadow over the music from the past two years. Every decade has its uncharacteristically strong years, and its recovery years.
You don't need descriptors for the music on a Shapednoise album. Everything you need to know is in the name. A throwback to the heyday of Ant-zen and the rhythmic noise of more than a decade ago, except in place of danceable rhythms, there's nothing but scraping, earsplitting ... er, shaped noise in place of anything that would be reasonably expected to make you move your body.
In a year when Aphex Twin confirmed the legends about dozens of albums that had been recorded and hoarded away since the mid 90's by giving away hundreds of tracks for free, the most faithful reproduction of his career best work as Polygon Window was released by a much more obscure talent from the very non alien-like Madison, Wisconsin.
This fantastic album cover builds a powerful narrative even before you hear a note of the music: infernal, ghostly, reeking of death. And the music? Like the more expressive PJ Harvey of the 2010's returning to her more raw, visceral sound of the 1990's. In a blues metal style.
Nils Frahm appeared on a few albums this year, but the best was the free one. There's nothing particularly fancy going on here, just stark, wordless, stargazing piano ballads that work a special kind of magic.
Every generation can't have its own New Order, because the original keeps coming back. How is it that nobody has bettered their particular style of dance rock in the thirty years that have passed since they first introduced it? And how does their sound never seem to age? The only thing that changes over the years is the guest vocalists.
Easily the most well-rounded Prurient album I've heard, this 90-minute double album takes in an epic sweep of noise subgenres.
The title is very misleading and nearly turned me away from hearing the album in the first place. Is it yet another album of pysch-tinged field recordings and ghostly ambience? Actually, far from it -- you can sense the serenity of the jungle in these recordings, but this music isn't meant for quiet meditation. The key influence of the natural surroundings is one of isolation, where nobody will complain about the droning noises and nobody will randomly come along to interrupt the recording. So Child lets his compositions slowly envelop the listener, shoving all outside distractions into the deep background, and forcing time to stand still.
The last two Moderat albums may have failed to set the world on fire like they should have, but Monkeytown Records haven't given up trying to recapture that same aesthetic. This collaboration between earthy Australian Ry X and Ame's Frank Wiedemann is the latest genre-bending experiment to emerge from the Monkeytown camp, and very likely the best. Dance remixes of indie acoustic songs have been huge hits in Europe over the past few years, but Howling decided to skip the remix step and make the records themselves.
Last year, Future Islands' "Seasons" was a phenomenon, an 80's throwback that was so uncool it couldn't help but be cool. It was the top track on Pitchfork's list. It won single of the year on Pazz and Jop. This year, Brandon Flowers released his own version of uncool 80's music, and ... what, was the uncool barrier somehow crossed? Getting people to hear the album after they'd trained themselves to tune out the Killers years ago was an uphill battle.
For the second straight year, my top pick is an album that originally disappointed me greatly. Both were among my favourite acts in music and carried high expectations. It doesn't take a genius to believe that these things are related. Look, I'm not even sure whether "Depression Cherry" is a great album. But I spent more time dissecting it this year than the rest of the albums on this list combined. I tried to unwrap its many layers and pinpoint what made these simple, lullaby-like songs sound so rich and textured. I tried to analyze it track by track versus "Bloom" and understand what it meant for Beach House in the long term (which became even more difficult when they surprised fans with a second and very different album, "Thank Your Lucky Stars", only a couple of months later). Was it really a search for a more insular existence, a reaction to their growing fame and the pressure to play louder and louder to fill up larger concert halls? "Days of Candy" says yes, "Sparks" says emphatically no. Did anything make me feel more at peace this year than "Levitation" and "Space Song" (no). And so on, until the end of the year, and probably well into future years.
I wrote the previous paragraph as an intro to last year's top ten list. Technically, only the first part of it is still true. I remain conflicted about several of these albums -- will I still be listening to them regularly in one year's time? From last year's list, only Fennesz and Alcest have remained in heavy rotation throughout 2015. Are they great albums, or only fleetingly great when you binge listen to them when they're new? Are they only great when you compare them to lesser albums from the same year? What happens once the year passes and those albums have to hold their own against other great albums, rather than against the detritus released that same year?
As for the second half of that opening paragraph, I did appreciate the steady stream of quality music throughout the year, and was consistently surprised this year by albums that exceeded my expectations. That includes most of the albums on this year's top ten. However, looking back at 2015 as a whole, the sum seems less than the sum of its parts. Almost nothing disappointed me, and there was a lot of like, but perhaps not enough music to truly love.
I don't want to reprint that opening paragraph every year, but is this the start of a trend? Hopefully not. The music on my 2011-2013 lists was strong enough to cast a shadow over the music from the past two years. Every decade has its uncharacteristically strong years, and its recovery years.
TOP TEN ALBUMS OF 2015
10. Shapednoise, "Different Selves" (Type)
You don't need descriptors for the music on a Shapednoise album. Everything you need to know is in the name. A throwback to the heyday of Ant-zen and the rhythmic noise of more than a decade ago, except in place of danceable rhythms, there's nothing but scraping, earsplitting ... er, shaped noise in place of anything that would be reasonably expected to make you move your body.
9. Auscultation, "L’etreinte Imaginaire" (100% Silk)
In a year when Aphex Twin confirmed the legends about dozens of albums that had been recorded and hoarded away since the mid 90's by giving away hundreds of tracks for free, the most faithful reproduction of his career best work as Polygon Window was released by a much more obscure talent from the very non alien-like Madison, Wisconsin.
8. Chelsea Wolfe, "Abyss" (Sargent House)
This fantastic album cover builds a powerful narrative even before you hear a note of the music: infernal, ghostly, reeking of death. And the music? Like the more expressive PJ Harvey of the 2010's returning to her more raw, visceral sound of the 1990's. In a blues metal style.
7. Nils Frahm, "Solo" (Erased Tapes)
Nils Frahm appeared on a few albums this year, but the best was the free one. There's nothing particularly fancy going on here, just stark, wordless, stargazing piano ballads that work a special kind of magic.
6. New Order, "Music Complete" (Mute)
Every generation can't have its own New Order, because the original keeps coming back. How is it that nobody has bettered their particular style of dance rock in the thirty years that have passed since they first introduced it? And how does their sound never seem to age? The only thing that changes over the years is the guest vocalists.
5. Prurient, "Frozen Niagara Falls" (Profound Lore)
Easily the most well-rounded Prurient album I've heard, this 90-minute double album takes in an epic sweep of noise subgenres.
4. Anthony Child, " Electronic Recordings from Maui Jungle Vol. 1" (Editions Mego)
The title is very misleading and nearly turned me away from hearing the album in the first place. Is it yet another album of pysch-tinged field recordings and ghostly ambience? Actually, far from it -- you can sense the serenity of the jungle in these recordings, but this music isn't meant for quiet meditation. The key influence of the natural surroundings is one of isolation, where nobody will complain about the droning noises and nobody will randomly come along to interrupt the recording. So Child lets his compositions slowly envelop the listener, shoving all outside distractions into the deep background, and forcing time to stand still.
3. Howling, "Sacred Ground" (Monkeytown)
The last two Moderat albums may have failed to set the world on fire like they should have, but Monkeytown Records haven't given up trying to recapture that same aesthetic. This collaboration between earthy Australian Ry X and Ame's Frank Wiedemann is the latest genre-bending experiment to emerge from the Monkeytown camp, and very likely the best. Dance remixes of indie acoustic songs have been huge hits in Europe over the past few years, but Howling decided to skip the remix step and make the records themselves.
2. Brandon Flowers, "The Desired Effect" (Island)
Last year, Future Islands' "Seasons" was a phenomenon, an 80's throwback that was so uncool it couldn't help but be cool. It was the top track on Pitchfork's list. It won single of the year on Pazz and Jop. This year, Brandon Flowers released his own version of uncool 80's music, and ... what, was the uncool barrier somehow crossed? Getting people to hear the album after they'd trained themselves to tune out the Killers years ago was an uphill battle.
1. Beach House, "Depression Cherry" (Sub Pop)
For the second straight year, my top pick is an album that originally disappointed me greatly. Both were among my favourite acts in music and carried high expectations. It doesn't take a genius to believe that these things are related. Look, I'm not even sure whether "Depression Cherry" is a great album. But I spent more time dissecting it this year than the rest of the albums on this list combined. I tried to unwrap its many layers and pinpoint what made these simple, lullaby-like songs sound so rich and textured. I tried to analyze it track by track versus "Bloom" and understand what it meant for Beach House in the long term (which became even more difficult when they surprised fans with a second and very different album, "Thank Your Lucky Stars", only a couple of months later). Was it really a search for a more insular existence, a reaction to their growing fame and the pressure to play louder and louder to fill up larger concert halls? "Days of Candy" says yes, "Sparks" says emphatically no. Did anything make me feel more at peace this year than "Levitation" and "Space Song" (no). And so on, until the end of the year, and probably well into future years.
Monday, December 14, 2015
Fennesz/King Midas Sound, "Edition 1"
I pretty much lost my head when I came across this album in the Berkeley Amoeba, for I had no idea it was in the works and didn't know that it had been released a few weeks earlier. Kevin Martin and Fennesz ... joining forces?? What could be better?
Unfortunately the album turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, but that's usually the case with Fennesz collaborations. His interests span genres far beyond his bread and butter formula of 60's melodic charm meets noise and static. He's never been afraid to experiment in the most literal sense -- he doesn't force his signature stuff onto the record, the way a famous rock guitarist might play a guest solo in a style so familiar sounding, you won't ever mistake it as anybody else. Fennesz genuinely loves to share ideas with a revolving door of musicians spanning genres and continents, and it certainly helps pay the bills between his own proper albums. But sometimes it's too bad that he always saves his best stuff for the albums solely under his own name.
The dream Fennesz/KMS would be constructed out of infinitely dense slabs of guitar noise laid over cavernous metallic dub. Instead of that, both artists decided to show their quieter sides -- atmospheric, dreamscapes dedicated to unknown lost loves, rendered spookier via strange, processed sounds squeezed from a sentient computer. It's an album that fans of both acts will be proud to own, but won't otherwise grab many people's attention. The second disc adds nothing to the overall product. It's identical to the first disc but with the vocals removed -- no extended dubbier edits, alternative version, or unusual sounds you can't hear on the first disc.
UPDATE: Why couldn't the entire album have sounded more like this transcendent three song live set??
Unfortunately the album turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, but that's usually the case with Fennesz collaborations. His interests span genres far beyond his bread and butter formula of 60's melodic charm meets noise and static. He's never been afraid to experiment in the most literal sense -- he doesn't force his signature stuff onto the record, the way a famous rock guitarist might play a guest solo in a style so familiar sounding, you won't ever mistake it as anybody else. Fennesz genuinely loves to share ideas with a revolving door of musicians spanning genres and continents, and it certainly helps pay the bills between his own proper albums. But sometimes it's too bad that he always saves his best stuff for the albums solely under his own name.
The dream Fennesz/KMS would be constructed out of infinitely dense slabs of guitar noise laid over cavernous metallic dub. Instead of that, both artists decided to show their quieter sides -- atmospheric, dreamscapes dedicated to unknown lost loves, rendered spookier via strange, processed sounds squeezed from a sentient computer. It's an album that fans of both acts will be proud to own, but won't otherwise grab many people's attention. The second disc adds nothing to the overall product. It's identical to the first disc but with the vocals removed -- no extended dubbier edits, alternative version, or unusual sounds you can't hear on the first disc.
UPDATE: Why couldn't the entire album have sounded more like this transcendent three song live set??
Friday, November 20, 2015
New Order, "Music Complete"
New Order have released three albums in the past twenty years ("Lost Sirens" doesn't count). Since breaking up for all intents and purposed circa 1994, their second act takes up more than half of their career, time-wise. That's incredible to think about, especially considering how prolific they were before that.
What if "Get Ready", "Waiting For the Sirens Call", and "Music Complete" had been the first three albums of some other band's career and had been released over the past five or six years? Their albums would receive good, but not great reviews from the usual indie publications. The attention of the ex-LCD Soundsystem demographic would ensure they'd sell out 1500-2000 person venues each time they toured through major cities in the northeast and the large southern US college towns. Critics would note that any song on any of their albums could be swapped with virtually any song on another one of their albums, and you'd scarcely notice the difference. They'd never be called "daring" or "adventurous" because of their insistence on sticking to the formula, but even casual fans would admit that it was nice to know exactly what they're getting with each new album. They'd be getting remixed by the likes of Hot Chip (hmmm ... this is one point where the alternate universe band intersects with the real life New Order). They'd very likely have plateaued in popularity by their third album, but there are plenty of things worse than building a long term career off of modest but profitable world tours every two years. Their fourth album might even debut in the top 20 of the Billboard 200.
However, tack those three albums onto the career of a band that hasn't had anything to prove since the 80's and everything is different. Now it's the story of a band improbably adding to an already incomparable legacy, making quality new music long after they by all rights should have been finished as a creative force. With each successive long hiatus, the idea that they could return and release anything passable became more and more preposterous, if not laughable. Band members reconvened, quit, and rejoined, collaborators both strange and wonderful came and went, they appeared to be shifting gears and becoming an touring jukebox churning out "Blue Monday" until the end of time, only to split up or find their way into the studio again depending on mysterious circumstances that we will never completely understand. Let's face it, at any point during the past twenty years, and most certainly since their big comeback gig at Reading '98, they could have begun their semi-retirement and made a healthy living playing only festivals and never playing a single note of new music.
"Music Complete" shouldn't exist. And yet here they are, releasing "Restless" as their comeback single. New Order have perfected the "we're back!" lead-off single during this second phase of their career, gone are the days when they're return with bombshell mindfucks like "Fine Time", now it's all about slipping right back into that old shoe and reminding people in the first thirty seconds that yes, you are listening to a New Order song. "Regret" is still the gold standard in that regard, and they've tried to rewrite perfection a few times now ("Crystal", "Krafty") but couldn't, and probably never will, but no matter. "Superheated" has become my favourite New Order album closer since "Leave Me Alone", although non-Killers fans may find it too ... Killers-y. "Singularity" recalls The Cure circa "Pornography" and might be the most they've sounded like Joy Division since Joy Division, at least for the first minute. Then it breaks into patented New Order dance rock with a synth hook lifted almost wholesale from "Bizarre Love Triangle". Somehow it all works. Based on the title, I expected "Tutti Frutti" to be a charmingly dumb song -- "Rock the Shack II", more or less -- but it turned out to be a dancefloor-ready stomper that ancient bands should have no business dabbling in, but again, New Order have deployed the spirit of "Technique" and it's a formula that still works against all odds and general common sense. Finally, "Nothing But a Fool" is the album's centrepiece, running nearly eight minutes, featuring the album's best chorus and one of Barney Sumner's few genuinely heartbreaking lyrics in his career.
The narrative is important. It could have been the steady third album by a band happy to tread water in mid-sized venues, but instead it's the shockingly great tenth album by a band that continues building their remarkable legacy.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
U2 live at Superbowl XXXVI
U2 have become a very small subplot in the follow up to the attacks in Paris. They are nearing the end of their tour and their Paris concert was set to be broadcast live on HBO. Now that show has been cancelled (as have all concerts in the city by orders of the French government) and the band chose to honour the victims by laying flowers outside of the Bataclan.
The pictures of the band paying their respects have been widely circulated, and seem to be touching a nerve with people, in part because U2 have a strange knack for getting entangled in hardships and tragedy taking place in the world. There's little doubt that they see themselves as a band with a calling beyond the music world, with a duty to mankind to publicize injustices and to aid in the healing process during tough times. There was Live Aid (1985), the Salman Rushdie dial-ins (early 90's), the concert in Madison Square Garden after 9/11, the appearance at Live 8 (2005), and now the Paris concert, which will surely be rescheduled and draw a far larger viewing audience than it would have had it proceeded as planned. Finally, there was arguably the most famous concert of their career, at the Superbowl halftime show in 2002.
That show has been praised and ridiculed in equal measure -- a microcosm of the polarizing opinions that U2 have generated for virtually their entire career. It regularly gets ranked among the best Superbowl halftime shows ever, if not the very best ever, because of its importance as a cathartic moment at the most intrinsically American cultural event only a few short months after the 9/11 attacks. It gets ridiculed for ... well, mainly for Bono's hokey reveal of the American flag inside his jacket at the end of the show. And for the "America ... fuck yeah!" jingoism of telling the country that everything will be OK in the context of a football game that means nothing in the life or death grand scheme of things. And for being U2 by the usual people who don't like U2.
The truth is, I never really understood the hate. Like it or not, the halftime show of the post 9/11 SB was going to be an event forced upon some band that would be expected to deliver in the moment. It wasn't the time or place for a solemn ceremony, but getting on with business as usual wasn't what was needed either. That middle ground is almost impossibly difficult to inhabit -- acknowledging the events without getting preachy, conveying emotions without getting emotional, projecting dynamism from the stage without falling prey to jock rock tropes. If not U2, then who? Which band could hit upon precisely the appropriate tone, on that big a stage, with that size of a viewing audience, with songs that most of the country was familiar with, and accomplish it all in twelve minutes or less?
Today I watched U2's Superbowl halftime show for the first time in nearly fourteen years.
At the time I could barely focus. I scarcely believe that the Patriots were not only playing in this game, but had taken a big lead into halftime. I was at a party with people who were not very emotionally invested in the game, and was in general somewhat distracted in all the usual ways that parties can distract you from what's happening on a TV in the corner of a room.
And yet, even without having seen the concert since it was aired, I felt I could recall its key moments in vivid detail -- the heart shaped stage, the scrolling names, the setlist, the American flag in Bono's jacket. Of course there were plenty of small details I missed. The crowd on the field looked at genuine as Superbowl crowds get. They were energetic and very very loud. This was not a crowd of people who were there to look happy on TV. There was not a single American flag on display as part of the show, with the exception of Bono's jacket. Simple, classy. The roll call of names only reached the "C"'s, which actually helped to underscore the scale of the tragedy. There were absolutely no dancers, special guests, projections (other than the names of 9/11 victims at the end), complex light shows, or anything even remotely frilly or garish. It was just U2 and their perfectly chosen three song set. The significance of the second song -- an interlude of "MLK" as the intro to "Where the Streets Have No Name" -- certainly eluded me at the time.
The backstory is also more complicated than I realized at the time. Apparently Janet Jackson was originally booked, but pulled out. U2 originally wanted to put on a much more extravagant show, but those plans were nixed. It's hard to believe they could done better than they did. They hit upon all of the proper subtleties that turned their set into one extended poignant tribute without smashing you over the head and declaring "this is a tribute!" like many bands would have.
So it shouln't come as much of a surprise that U2 touched so many people in Paris today without playing a note of music or saying a word.
Saturday, November 07, 2015
Two number ones: Adele, "Hello"; A-WA, "Habib Galbi"
It was only after getting caught up in the sandstorm of publicity surrounding the release of "Hello" that I learned that "21" has sold thirty one million copies worldwide.
That's a preposterous number. Those albums that were fifteen million sellers twenty years ago, which were ubiquitous on the radio and became influential benchmarks that dozens of charting artists would attempt to copy, now sell in the range of five to six million copies. "Frozen" was the top selling album of 2014 worldwide and a genuine phenomenon if there ever was one. It sold ten million copies in 2014. That's an incredible number -- more than the year's top selling album has sold in about a decade. It was the top selling album in the US in 2014 until the very last week of the year, when it was passed by Taylor Swift's "1989" -- another phenomenon that practically transcended music. Both sold a little less than four million copies in the US in 2014. But neither album has sold, or will sell, anything close to THIRTY ONE MILLION COPIES WORLDWIDE.
So it really isn't hyperbole when Chris Molanphy states that "21" is the "Thriller" of the 2010's. And likewise, when referring to Adele's carefully orchestrated comeback, Molanphy nails it on the head again when referring to the opening moments and lines in her new video: "Has a first single from a superstar album ever arrived more freighted with persona? Michael? Madonna? Whitney? Amateurs. None of them previewed a predestined blockbuster with a song quite as carefully branded, and instantly successful, as “Hello.”"
Indeed, I can't think of a more successful "comeback" song than this. A gargantuan breakup ballad with an epic video that is exactly what her fanbase (which is pretty much everyone) would expect her to deliver. A video that screams "I'm back" in its opening minute -- despite not saying a word. After a single listen to "Hello" on the day it was released, the chorus was stuck in my head for the next two days. It dropped and was instantly, and I mean instantly, EVERYWHERE. People linked to streams on social media. I heard it in supermarkets and in malls. It was all over the radio. There was no steady climb on the charts, no drawn out hype cycle. The song dropped, and it went mega in the blink of an eye.
Next week it will assume its spot at the top of the Billboard Hot 100 for the first of approximately ten billion weeks. But you should seriously not be surprised if it breaks "One Sweet Day"'s record.
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Meanwhile, in Israel, an Arabic language song has topped the charts for the first time in the country's history. Should we be surprised by this? There have been six non-English language #1 hits in the sixty year history of the Hot 100 despite the presence of a very large non-English speaking minority. However, there has been only one such hit in the past twenty five years -- "Macarena (Bayside Boys Mix)" by Los Del Rio". No, "Gangnam Style" never made it, it peaked at #2 despite hitting #1 in dozens of other countries, including Israel. You could probably make an impressive list of other non-English songs that were huge hits but never reached #1, such as Nena's "99 Luftballons". You could also point to a number of artists who had #1 hits in English but couldn't translate that success into a Spanish language #1 (or even a steady string of Spanish language hits), despite being well known for singing both in Spanish and English. Shakira and Gloria Estefan are two obvious examples.
So the lack of an Arabic #1 is unusual, but not altogether shocking. The most improbable fact about the amazing success of "Habib Galbi" is not that it reached #1 in Israel, but in how it's making waves in other countries. I first heard about it a few months ago in the context of its surprising success in Arab countries. More recently, the group has begun a tour in Europe. English language media may be starting to pay attention.
The song was produced by Balkan Beat Box singer Tomer Yosef, whose band has been a trailblazer in Israel in fusing Eastern music with modern dance music. It's really a perfect combination of artist and producer. And of course "Habib Galbi" is hardly the first song of its style to become a hit in Israel, it's just the first one in Arabic. So before anyone thinks of complaining about "cultural appropriation" or something, consider that this is absolutely nothing like "Ice Ice Baby" becoming the first ever Rap #1 hit on the US Hot 100. If white and black people had both been making rap since the very beginning of rap, but had begun rapping in different languages and dialects in more recent years, only to have a white rapper hit #1 in a language that had often been more popular among black artists, then one could possibly draw a trickle of a comparison between the two.
Yes, A-WA are Jewish. No word on whether they changed their name from "Haim Sisters" after learning about their namesakes from LA.
Yes, A-WA are Jewish. No word on whether they changed their name from "Haim Sisters" after learning about their namesakes from LA.
Monday, November 02, 2015
"Amy" (dir. Asif Kapadia), "Love and Mercy" (dir. Bill Pohlad)
Long flights are a great chance for catching up on recent movies -- especially music-related ones!
This short commentary about the DVD release of "Amy" gets only one thing right -- the opening "Happy Birthday" scene is indeed the best moment of the film. In those brief moments, we see a talented girl who loves to sing, no more and no less, it's the purest display of her gifts that we see in the movie. Everything that follows is about juggling fame (or the need to become famous) with the expression of that talent. That opening scene is shockingly normal -- it could almost be anyone's extroverted daughter singing -- and it's that normalcy that's been missing from the tabloid-driven Amy Winehouse narrative until now. However, the movie does not perpetuate a myth in the same way that, for example, Jim Morrison worshippers perpetuate his myth by accentuating the most extreme moments of his life. For Morrison acolytes, more debauchery is always better. Any attempt to portray him as a human and not a cartoon character comes via his poetry (his nonsensically moronic poetry, that is).
"Amy" wants us to desperately view her as a down to earth girl who was corrupted by outside influences, and we're reminded of this constantly through the voiceovers and interviews with family members and childhood friends. Everything post-2007 felt like a mad dash to a depressing finish, the years of misery and gossip and paparazzi hounding are de-emphasized. Living through it as a music fan felt like a long, scandalous slog. Every day brought new and increasingly ridiculous rumours and articles about Winehouse, and those last four years of her life passed very slowly indeed. But the movie "Amy" wants us to remember her audition for Island executives, sitting on a black couch playing sparse guitar lines and wowing the room with her unique voice and personal charm. It wants us to picture her recording the song "Back To Black" acapella, not as a misbehaving drug addict but as a Ronnie Bennett superfan with an eccentric taste in hairdos. The movie indulges in some myth-making by featuring Winehouse's poetry at various points but is careful to stick to the overall story by linking the meaning behind the words to real people and events that are described in the film.
The movie even glossed over the role that Winehouse's parents played in her career. Their divorce, their manipulating influence on their daughter, their frequent post-death cash-ins (dueling biographies and other conveniently available merch) are almost totally ignored, such is the director's dedication to keeping mud-slinging and finger-pointing out of his film. Even Winehouse's ex-husband gets off easy. In these cases I saw red flags because you'd expect this documentary to at least attempt to provide some answers, but it's simply not willing to go down that route.
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"Love and Mercy" tells two halves of a story in two very different ways. This was intentional on the part of the filmmakers, who could have picked one actor to play Brian Wilson in both time frames but instead chose to highlight the contrast between the dynamic but confused Wilson of the 60's and the just plain confused Wilson of the 80's. The scenes set in the 60's are time machine-like in their accuracy and vividness, and Paul Dano convincingly transforms himself into Wilson right down to his voice and piano playing. A special mention also goes to Jake Abel for absolutely nailing the essence of Mike Love, including his on-stage mannerisms. I can't think of another movie that puts this much emphasis on the action inside a recording studio, often eschewing even dialogue in favour of letting ostensibly tedious (in real life) recording sessions carry the story.
Paul Giamatti is terrifying as Dr. Eugene Landy, easily the most despised and yet mysterious character in the greater Beach Boys story. Supposedly the real person was even more over the top, I figure they had to scale him back for the movie lest nobody believe that this vile human being was a real person. The most glaring weakness lies with John Cusack's performance, which is too close to the socially awkward characters he has played in many other movies. I couldn't buy the realism of his performance at all -- I could only see John Cusack playing John Cusack in a John Cusack movie, and couldn't reconcile that person with the mentally ill musical genius he was supposed to be portraying.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Ian Svenonius trashes NPR
For me there has always been something sterile about NPR that I could never quite put my finger on. It's one thing when a "public" broadcaster serves as an outlet for giving national exposure to localized bands who could use the extra boost. It's another thing when that broadcaster develops a house style of promoting a specific type of airwave-palatable indie band. Its stylistic choices eventually become as safe and predictable as those of the corporations they're supposed to be offering an alternative to. Not to mention that NPR music always feels like it is geared toward a specific kind of liberal arts educated upper middle class 30-something who feels they've lost they're edge since they left college and is looking for an outlet for connecting again with music but isn't creative enough to develop their own unique taste.
This is hardly the first article to criticize the gentrification of indie. But whereas past critiques tended to point fingers at record companies for domesticating and mass marketing indie, rending it nearly empty of its former individuality and underground appeal, Svenonius takes aim at the consumers and leaves the evil record companies out of the equation entirely. And it's not the first time he's accused the public of being complicit in gentrifying themselves.
When it comes right down to it, I have very little sympathy for punk -- Svenonius' scathing attack on yuppies for their largely successful attempts to gentrify punk don't particularly disturb me. Counterculture movements need to rapidly evolve either by growing in popularly and influence, or they have to fade away quietly. A radical idea worth caring about can't stay on the fringe indefinitely without seeping into the mainstream and becoming more palatable. After a while it becomes a Pavlovian reaction to whatever is dominating the mainstream, as entrenched in the old ideas and attitudes as anything big business could dream up. In the interview I linked to above, Svenonius has also recast punk as taking pride in one's local surroundings and drawing inspiration from it. In other words, something that automatically must evolve as the local population evolves, or else gets swallowed up by the forces that smooth out the differences between different areas within a city.
A national public broadcast then can't help but yuppify a genre like punk -- it broadcasts everywhere and is blind to differences in locale. There's room in the market for punk music that's been drained of its raw emotion and sense of danger, and "real" punks shouldn't expect anything more of a station like NPR in that respect.
This is hardly the first article to criticize the gentrification of indie. But whereas past critiques tended to point fingers at record companies for domesticating and mass marketing indie, rending it nearly empty of its former individuality and underground appeal, Svenonius takes aim at the consumers and leaves the evil record companies out of the equation entirely. And it's not the first time he's accused the public of being complicit in gentrifying themselves.
When it comes right down to it, I have very little sympathy for punk -- Svenonius' scathing attack on yuppies for their largely successful attempts to gentrify punk don't particularly disturb me. Counterculture movements need to rapidly evolve either by growing in popularly and influence, or they have to fade away quietly. A radical idea worth caring about can't stay on the fringe indefinitely without seeping into the mainstream and becoming more palatable. After a while it becomes a Pavlovian reaction to whatever is dominating the mainstream, as entrenched in the old ideas and attitudes as anything big business could dream up. In the interview I linked to above, Svenonius has also recast punk as taking pride in one's local surroundings and drawing inspiration from it. In other words, something that automatically must evolve as the local population evolves, or else gets swallowed up by the forces that smooth out the differences between different areas within a city.
A national public broadcast then can't help but yuppify a genre like punk -- it broadcasts everywhere and is blind to differences in locale. There's room in the market for punk music that's been drained of its raw emotion and sense of danger, and "real" punks shouldn't expect anything more of a station like NPR in that respect.
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