You might not have heard of a little-known band from the 80s called On A Friday, but you will have heard of their later incarnation after bassist Colin's brother joined the band. We already have a lot to thank Jonny Greenwood for (not least his most recent score for We Need To Talk About Kevin), but without him, Radiohead could have been a sax-heavy new romantic outfit.
Two tracks from a 1986 demo tape were rediscovered and uploaded onto YouTube in the past two weeks. The person who uploaded them said their husband used to know the band, and was given the demo when he was 17. They've been kept safe and sound all this time, now being released at a time when the band could quite simply not be any bigger or more influential.
The first of the demo songs, Girl (In The Purple Dress), is more accomplished of the tracks. Very few 17 year old bands around then or now could emulate quite the same quality from a very early attempt at songwriting. Everybody Knows is a little less fluid but still an enjoyable 80s ballad worthy of the time. Yes they're a little rough around the edges and Thom's voice is still getting comfortable at being being the mic, but to criticise these tracks that were recorded 25 years ago by teenagers who presumably never thought hundreds of thousands of people would some day listen to them would be like a parent punishing their beloved child for not colouring in exactly within the black lines.
Perhaps the most surprising thing however is the blaring sax solos that barge their way into the middle of each song. With so many people being so intimately familiar with Radiohead's back catalogue, it seems altogether bizarre that the saxophone should play such a prominent part in these songs. Especially when you consider that their only use of it to date is the beautifully shambolic inclusion of a jazz band mash up on The National Anthem. It is intriguing to wonder what happened to their friend and the culprit behind the saxophone Raz Peterson.
What is not, perhaps, surprising is that these songs are actually good, and in the case of Girl (In The Purple Dress), really good. The beginnings of what would later become Radiohead are already there, impressive for being six years before their seminal debut single.
A large portion of the seating had been taken out of Sandwiches when I arrived to catch the second of The Gaslmap Killer's only two New Zealand shows. Clearly they were expecting some big numbers to be packing out the venue. In the meantime, it was Superautomatica who were trying to make up the numbers as their bouncy dubstep melded nicely with downtempo breaks lured people into the evening. Some hip hop breaks had people enticed and heads began to nod, but when the hip hop crunk shifted up a gear and the sampler was put through its paces, people really began to take note. Soon enough the fish started to bite in earnest, perhaps it was Method Man's obscene proclamations of what he would do to the listener's asshole that did it.
The duo consisting of Benny Tones and LRD JXN then unleashed a grand psybient vibe blended nicely with an undertone of original hip hop, before violating the floor with sample heavy breaks that really brought the noise. The pair danced around each other with consummate ease, playing around with their catalogue and sublimely picking up where the other left off. It was down to some grimey dubstep to see in the end of their impressive set, which, when married with Roni Size & Reprazent's signature drum and bass classic Brown Paper Bag had the crowd eating out of the palm of their hand.
Their finale couldn't have been a greater introduction to Crushington taking to their set and wowing the crowd. Superautomatica had perfectly set them up, and it was Crushington's turn to knock them down. It is hard to believe it's only been just over a year since their first ever live show, but Wellington's finest bass producers looked like seasoned professionals as they kicked off their night with offbeat pounding dubstep that immediately had the room jumping, bar staff included.
They went on to test the limits of tempo before dropping some face-melting dubstep breaks, and somehow managed to briefly fuse hardcore house with full on 'step madness. The rest of the set went by in a blur of flurry of big sounds, with hardcore beats to rival the likes of Scotch Egg, and massive dub drops that could give Skrillex a run for his money. The speakers threatened to blow under the strain of the bass-heavy grime exploding out from them, all while the duo looked to be laughing manically at times to what they were subjecting the crowd to.
There's nothing quite like that split-second anticipatory moment just before a huge dubstep drop, and Crushington laid out countless of those moments throughout their all-too short set. The crowd couldn't nod their heads any harder lest they break their noses off on their own knees, but the Wellington duo settled for making their ears bleed with delight instead. They seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves and appreciate the reciprocation from the crowd, and they earned it. Their sound is one that should already have taken lands beyond New Zealand by storm, but given time they'll be recognised as masters of their craft.
The Gaslamp Killer seemed to have his work cut out for him to top Crushington, but from the moment he quietly approved of the bass powerhouse by Wilhelm Screaming his way into the start of his set, he was in the driving seat. Starting off minimalist, GLK dropped some 16-bit beats and mixed it all up with a seemingly endless supply of other styles, even showing off his significant turntablism skills.
Peppered throughout smooth hip hop dub beats, GLK would sprinkle some Beatles Happiness Is A Warm Gun with soulful Dr Dre and throw in a dash of Wocka Flocka's Hard In Da Paint for good measure. Like a kind of Weird Al Yankovic of grimestep, GLK looked to be having more fun than anyone as he went from mashing up a golden oldie with some dirty hip hop dubstep and back again.
To say GLK's set was eclectic would be like saying people went along to Sandwiches to hear traditional Romani music. But of course, at one point it very much sounded like that's exactly what GLK had dropped amidst the hip hop dubstep and fresh LA beats. It was difficult to tear yourself away from the dancefloor, but even if you did, you'd be met with the bar staff dancing on the bar. Not a soul in the joint was standing still come the end of the set, confirming it had been a good idea to clear out nearly all of the seating. Showing big love for New Zealand ("when the shit hits the fan in America you better believe I'm on the first flight to Aotearoa"), and providing the crowd with a perfect blend of old classics and new sounds, Gaslamp Killer confirmed his place as one of the most original and diverse DJs on the circuit today.
To say Kate Bush's album releases have been sporadic would be quite the understatement. Before 2005's Aerial, it had been twelve painstaking years before anyone had enjoyed a studio release from the English songstress. Now, in 2011 fans have been treated to not only Director's Cut in the first half of the year, an album of restructured and reissued tracks from two previous albums. But as Winter closes in around the Northern Hemisphere, Bush has swept the world with a breathtakingly bleak yet surprisingly temperate studio album in the form of 50 Words For Snow.
At first glance the tracklisting might look as bare as a Winter chill, but with only one track clocking in at under seven minutes, Bush has taken her time with every aspect of the album. Her website first alerted fans to the fact the album would be "set against the backdrop of falling snow", and begins her wintry opus with Snowflake, about the falling of a single flake and its desire to be caught. The distant rolling of piano chords coupled with the faintest hint of electronics serves to emphasise the loneliness felt by a single snowflake amongst a drifting blizzard. That snowflake is given a rousing voice by Bush's son Bertie, calling out amidst the echoing atmosphere and blending fluidly with his mother's backing vocals.
Of course Snowflake could be about a lost pet, caught in a snowstorm, as the next luxuriant track, Lake Tahoe, finds a woman calling out for her own Snowflake amid a lolling piano, lakeside bird calls, faint percussion and choral accompaniment from Stefan Roberts. Misty starts with the creation of a snowman innocently enough, but subverts into something altogether more bittersweetly erotic as she lays down with him and feels him "dissolve" beneath her. Only Bush could get away with singing about the coupling between woman and snowman and it would be somewhat creepy if not for the way her simply beautiful and sumptuous voice conjures up the imagery in a strangely alluring display.
Wild Man goes further and altogether darker as the blistering winds give way to a lament for the "Kangchenjumga demon," or Yeti of the Himalayas. It tells a fantastical tale of many well-researched place names where Bush sings of sightings of the eponymous wild man, and her attempts to protect him from discovery and death with the help of a Himalayan tracker sung by Andy Fairweather Low. A bizarrely forgettable and overly-romantic duet with Elton John sees two seemingly time-travelling lovers proclaiming their love while Rome burns, or as one is dragged away in war torn 1942, before losing one another during 9/11 in New York.
If such a duet with Elton John seems bizarre, then hearing Stephen Fry recite 50 different way to convey snowfall over a fusion of chillout electronica and slide guitar is altogether comedic. The relish with which Fry sounds out the different terms ("diamanti pavlova" and "spangladasha" being the more sedate of them) is evident. Bush encouraging Fry to complete the 50 as part of her chorus is a stroke of light-hearted genius. If you're going to get anyone to revel in the glorious nonsense of language then I suppose there's no one better than the most famous linguist of them all.
The lounging piano returns for Among Angels to round out the album, with Bush alone in reminding us (if a reminder were needed) of her vocal range and haunting solo presence. 50 Words For Snow is a peculiarity, but of course what else could a Kate Bush record be? Few albums in recent memory have focused on a single subject matter so incessantly, and it does indeed evoke a stark and boreal landscape. Yet it is Bush's voice that brings the consistent warmth throughout each track, thawing them out and allowing us to savour her otherwise glacial offerings.
The recent announcement that Google Music is open for business has been met so far with deafening silence. With the demise of Buzz and the less than impressive showing of Google+, it seems users are reluctant to get all that exited about yet another product to add to their pantheon of online apps and services. Of course the media's spin on the release is the inevitable comparison with iTunes, not least of all the NZ Herald which claims "Google is hoping to gain traction over iTunes". The reality is however that there is very little competition to be had as the choice was already made for people long before Google Music ever even existed.
The simple fact is, if you own an iPod, iPhone etc. you're already using iTunes and aren't about to ship your entire music library over to Google Music (something which you'd be hard pressed to do anyway). Google Music has not been created to try and entice Apple users away from their beloved smart devices, but to ensure that Android users aren't missing out on what was becoming an ever widening gap in the market. Google's key demographic is already there, so the creation of Google Music was a no-brainer, but the real job for Google now is to convince their customers that it's worth their time uploading their libraries and furthermore, buying future music from the Android store.
They of course have bonuses to try and entice people to do so, such as the offer of an exclusive Rolling Stones live set from 1973, or a recording of Pearl Jam's recent gig in Toronto (along with other less impressive incentives like a Shakira or Coldplay live EP). But Google are hoping that the real boon to their release will be the fact you can share whatever tracks you have in library (so long as they have been purchased from the Android store) with people in your Google+ circles. Apple is incapable of using such a social networking tool, however does not necessarily need to as at present links to where users can buy a song from on iTunes appear wherever that song pops up on YouTube, ironically part of the Google conglomerate.
Back in July the Google CEO had already claimed that over ten million people were using G+, so the ability for those people (which has surely swelled by a fair few millions by now) to share their libraries with people in their circles could see the greatest burgeoning of shared music yet witnessed. Will this prospective online community of music lovers attract iTunes users to cross the floor and abandon their Apple love? Probably not. But if it pays off for Google, it will mean there is at least one other behemoth in the music-sharing world, and competition can only be a good thing.
Of course the real winners out of all of this are the major record labels, all of whom (except for Warner Music) have already signed up with Google Music. Independent labels are by no means under-represented however, with over one thousand of them also jumping aboard. There is also something to be said for Google Music's 'Artist Hub' which will allow minnow artists and bands to promote their work. If that gains traction then Google Music will at least make it easier for them to get their music out into the world, though it may take quite a while to get to the level of established names who, under Google Music, will be able to set whatever price they like for their music online.
Google Music, like Google+, is more likely to be a slow-burner rather than something to blow the rest of the market away. If the technology is easy enough to use, and compatible between different devices, then non-Apple users will take to it just as quickly as their iCounterparts have. Making the use of the service free is a good first step, but you would expect nothing less (or more in this case) from Google.
It is relatively safe to assert without (too much) retribution that before the band's implosion, Oasis was akin to a stagnant pool atop a fairly mediocre plateau. Noel more than anyone would have ultimately been grateful for the break-up, as it has now given him the creative freedom to do what he likes without having his irritating little brother buzzing in his ear. High Flying Birds is the very embodiment of that freedom come to life, and while the influences of the past are undeniable, and indeed wholeheartedly pepper almost every song, it is the best of that past that comes to mind.
The first track on the album, Everybody's On The Run will undoubtedly be opening sets at stadiums around the world for years to come for that's what it has been seemingly designed for. That's of course no bad thing as it's the older of the Gallagher brothers who is known for the really symbolic gestures of anthemic rock.You can imagine the lighters in the air and the flags fluttering in the Glastonbury breeze as it echoes over Worthy Farm along with the other sweeping rock anthems (I Wanna Live in a Dream in My) Record Machine and Stop The Clocks.
Dream On is the first of the shambling folky numbers that parade through the record which also includes the first single from the album, The Death of You And Me, and the delightfully mournful Soldier Boys and Jesus Freaks. The second single from the album, If I Had A Gun..., is as Noel himself has said, unsurprisingly more than a little akin to Oasis since it was written while he was still with the band. Similarly AKA... Broken Arrow could have been written for Liam, and you can almost hear his voice quivering in the background, but it's (Stranded On The) Wrong Beach that really brings Oasis fans back to the good old days. The throbbing guitars and upbeat percussion is really one for the Summer and a great example of just how much fun Noel has had in making his own unique record.
It's with AKA... What A Life! that Noel breaks away from his recognisable influences and styles and delivers something altogether more uplifting and, dare I say it, dancey. His effortlessly soaring vocal oversees an infectious piano fused with some hectic and footloose guitar work. It leaves one wondering what else Noel could do if he put his mind to different genres. He has made guest appearances on tracks for artists ranging from The Chemical Brothers to Goldie, so it would be interesting to see what he could do with influences that strayed further from his well-defined comfort zone that AKA... What A Life! does.
Overall the album just breathes confidence. Noel is not trying to make a statement with Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds but merely give fans the music he knows they will enjoy. This is a record for Oasis fans, of course, and it's impossible to ignore the influence, but it's also greatly accessible to others who just couldn't get past the arrogance and, later mediocrity, that came with the once Biggest Band In The World. Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds is, of course, more than just the man himself. They are a band after all, and it's the work of members like session pianist Mike Rowe and former Zutons bassist Russell Pritchard that help tie everything together and underpin that accessibility. Nor is it easy to ignore the presence of Beady Eye's debut album Different Gear Still Speeding when listening to NGHFB. But unlike Oasis-minus-one's drawn-out and often lagging effort, this doesn't try to snatch at something it feels it deserves, but nestles comfortably in the purely enjoyable musical experience borne by a seasoned professional.
There will undoubtedly not be one review of David Lynch’s first solo album that neglects to compare it to his long and sordid history in film. Pitchfork at least manages to focus on the music he has used in his films, and indeed the music he has created or co-created for past projects. Needless to say, very few people listening to Crazy Clown Time will approach it without some preconceived ideas about what they expect to hear. Such comparisons to Lynch’s filmography are somewhat justified given that a lot of the music evokes some very Lynchian imagery.
The album kicks off with Pinky’s Dream, picking up almost mid-riff where seemingly something dark and unsettling has left off. Karen O brings her textbook dark indie punk vocals to one of the strongest tracks on the album. The track also introduces listeners to the intense reverb that permeates heavily throughout the entire album. The guitars are barely distinguishable from the distant bass as they echo off the outer reaches of the song.
Good Day Today, the first single from the album, changes the style if not the pace or the atmosphere. Akin to a super-sensitive Moby track, the electronica blends surprisingly well with Lynch’s own synthesised and distorted vocals and would have sat very well on the Twin Peaks soundtrack. Those vocals become a repetitive feature throughout the rest of the record, with So Glad’s simplistic lyrics underpinning the simplicity of the whole track. Noah’s Ark, while continuing with the monotonal distorted vocals that defines the album, has lyrics that provide an interesting spin on how the title of the track gets its name.
The vocals for Football Game must have been laid down on a busy day for Lynch as it sounds like he’s still finishing his sandwich. That or he decided to actually play a football game where someone had broken his jaw before heading into the booth. The lazy reverbed guitar lolls and echoes back and forth and, coupled with the very similar I Know, would cause one to drop off if it weren’t for the truly surprising Strange and Unproductive Thinking. The track features a pounding bassline that really works and fast becomes Lynch’s most upbeat number, but is starkly juxtaposed with his vocoder ramblings on positive thinking, cosmic awareness, the existence of opposing ideas, the pursuit of critical thinking, and seemingly most important, an emphasis on dental hygiene and plaque formation. It has to be heard, whether you find the long robotic sentences mesmerising or jarring, it is undeniably Lynchian.
The title track is probably the most unsettling for a variety of reasons. Lynch has said that "crazy clown time" simply means the fun that can be had whilst drinking beer. But listening to Crazy Clown Time should be a reminder to all never to drink beer with David Lynch. His aching falsetto that squirms its way throughout the track feels like it gets into every pore and makes you want to take a shower. The stabbing backwards effects, the dirty blues guitar and the pained orgasmic moans of the backing vocals all make you feel like you've just stumbled upon the Devil's Rejects relaxing on their front porch before doing a number on someone. Most likely you.
Most of the rest of the album sinks back into a comfortless and dark place, with the almost painfully strained vocals pining for lost (or rather taken) love, highlighting the loneliness that comes with considering inanimate objects as friends, and lamenting the loss of identity. She Rise Up rounds off the album with Lynch reinterpreting the dark alternative blues that has punctured the record into a synthesised ballad for another lost love, once again making good use of his vocoder.
While nowhere near as disturbing as one might have expected from the man who brought us Blue Velvet, Lynch's debut LP is more unsettling. That almost makes it worse, as you can feel the tension and creepiness building the further into the record you get. It is most definitely worth a listen, and although it may not be known as one of the classic albums of this young decade, it will most certainly make you want to cleanse your soul after wallowing in its grime.
It feels very unnatural to head out the door at 1am, with your evening’s entertainment still ahead of you. Or perhaps I’m just getting far too old, but it seemed many people hadn’t come out at all when I showed up to Sandwiches to catch Tokyo Prose. Jonny Kon was just finishing his set to a disappointingly populated floor. Nonetheless this didn’t deter Kon from belting out some nicely fused liquid drum and bass that had those on the floor smiling from ear to ear. The resident MC unfortunately added little to proceedings, as is often the case with resident MCs, but dropping shots with the DJ lifted his confidence just enough to deliver some slick lines before sinking back to one-word chants. Kon finished up by projecting some old school drum and bass onto the floor and getting a nice reaction, but really ended on a high as the sounds got dark and gritty. But the young revellers who had seemingly been hiding during Kon’s set soon came out of the woodwork when the Auckland producer got down to business. Straight off he laid out some soaring chords populated by big drops that even consumed the MC, stunning him into silence for a time. The variation in the vocal samples by Prose is what is most refreshing in his live work, with bluesy riffs fluidly bleeding into soaring ethereal vocals. As his name would suggest, the Japanese influence made a serene appearance, with the highlight of the night featuring a Koto-style Japanese string riff that lead into a collective drum and bass experience to rival the best producers working not just in New Zealand today, but anywhere else. While a sweeping comedown threatened to clear the dancefloor as people recuperated or went to the bar to refuel, they were soon back as the sense that something else was building soon permeated throughout Sandwiches. Prose slid effortlessly into a smooth and golden lounge drum and bass peppered with chocolate vocals and a deep piano that was so smooth it had people fixed to the floor. The set plateaued on a high, with solid beats adding yet more bodies to the floor before soothingly sinking back down into soulful and laid back drum and bass once. These undulations continued well into the night as some Jungle-heightened beats brought everyone back to the peak of their energy. The fusion between jungle and hip hop was so expertly done as to go largely unnoticed, and then Prose’s superb blending back in of drum and bass over the hip hop fluidly married the two. Only was it towards the dying minutes of his set that Prose really got down to the dirty end of drum and bass. Big drops and even bigger beats were the order of the day, and left everyone pumped and ready for more. Tokyo Prose’s set was as soothing and yet as epic as the tide itself. It could go from soaring highs and massive sounds rights down to smooth relaxing bass that left one drifting from side to side and thinking about sweeping Japanese mountain ranges. It’s strength came from its regularity, yet still managed to throw in some very pleasing surprises. You not know exactly what you’re going to get with a Tokyo Prose set, but you know you’ll come away all the better for hearing it.
