Why Alberto Iglesias Deserves The Oscar

Compared to last year's debacle involving movie scores being denied consideration for an Academy Award nomination, this year's list looks positively dull. However there are some quiet acheivers amongst the potentials. While the inimitable John Williams is competing against himself with both The Adventures of Tintin and War Horse vying for a gong, the real standout efforts are coming from relative international minnows in the film score pond.  

Although Alberto Iglesias has been composing music for over 30 years, it is only relatively recently that his work has gained such a global audience. Sex and Lucia obviously garnered him with some attention, but it was The Constant Gardener which really brought his music to Western audiences. Fitting, then, that Iglesias should once again take the helm of composing the audio landscape to a book by John le Carré. With the score to Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Iglesias has captured the same bleak and desolate atmosphere that he created for Gardener. While the action in Tinker Tailor is much more sparse compared to its predecessor, the tension Iglesias has created with the music is even more heightened. It not only accompanies but emphasises the tension that is rife throughout the complicated plot of the film. 

It is surely more deserving of an Oscar than something like War Horse, which sees Williams at his gushiest, and indeed laziest. He has followed the textbook (admittedly written by him in the first place), letter for letter, and has come up with a score that predictably swells and sighs its way into teenage girls' hearts.  The only thing more emotionally engorged than the score is Steven Spielberg's own direction, but he hasn't been nominated for direction, so that point is moot. 

While Ludovic Bource's score for The Artist is a quiet masterpiece, and arguably more important to its respective film than Iglesias's due to the fact it is one of the only things actually heard throughout the film, the impact Iglesias's work has on Tinker Tailor makes it a superior product. I have yet to see Hugo, and so Howard Shore might have outdone is outstanding work on the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but he will undoubtedly we lavished with yet more Oscars when The Hobbit films are released.  Now therefore is the time for the for the already twice nominated Iglesias to be recognised for his work.

Treat Your Ears To Something Good This Christmas

It's most likely been about two months (at least) since you heard your first complaint about Christmas decorations being put up in shop windows. However now that we're well into December, it is finally justifiable to even mention the Silly Season here.

Unfortunately, accompanying those decorations strewn around malls and shops is often the most hideous pandemonium of Christmas music you are ever likely to hear.  If it's not the cheesy pop hits of the past 30 years, or updated and cringe-worthy upbeat versions of already terrible carols, it's unexpected and strange duets (I'm looking at you David Bowie & Bing Crosby and Bruce Springsteen & Bon Jovi). Admittedly some of the old classics are just that, classic. It's difficult not to feel festive when you hear Bing Crosby begin to croon some festive songs (aside perhaps from the aforementioned Bowie duet), or enjoy Nat King Cole singing The Christmas Song and to a depressingly lesser extent The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot.

However, for every great Yuletide song you can hear each year, there is a fountain, nay a mountain of turgid shit that pollutes the airwaves and CD stands. But this does not mean that lovers of good music must shut their windows and close their doors, unable to take part in the holiday season with good festive songs.  There are plenty of tracks, some even within the last few years, that put their own spin on Christmas and happen to actually be great to listen to.

Beginning with something mildly epic, the Trans Siberian Orchestra's version of Carol of the Bells brings the 100 year Ukrainian chant some well deserved rawk. If when Carol of the Bells is mentioned you even dare think about listening to Destiny's Child annihilation of the tune, stop and let the metal maestros blow you away with their complex and stadium-sized rendition of the chilly Winter's tale (except that it's actually originally about Spring). If you'd prefer to go old school, then you can't much go past RUN DMC's Christmas In Hollis. Or better yet, the Christmas tune that RUN DMC samples for Hollis is Clarence Carter's Back Door Santa; the funky (and exceptionally seedy) soul number. 

Tim Minchin: Knows what's important at Christmas.

For something more comical but with an undercurrent of serious thought, Tom Lehrer's A Christmas Carol is one of the only honest Christmas songs ever written.  Lehrer explains in just a few minutes exactly what the true meaning of Christmas really is; money.  All the more startling, and somewhat depressing then to note that it was composed in the 50s. But infinitely more beautiful than Lehrer's leering and snarling American accent, is Tim Minchin's lilting and heartfelt White Wine In The Sun. It sums up perfectly what it is like to be secular at Christmas, and slightly bemused by all the religiosity that surrounds the holidays.  After money, family is of course the most important thing at Christmas, and Minchin's ode to his daughter really is a touching tale of how she will always find her family's love and security, no matter how overwhelming life gets.

For something altogether more alternative arranged on one very handy little compilation, you can't go much past Just Say Noël. Featuring tracks by the likes of everyone from Beck to an excellent track from XTC to possibly the best version of Amazing Grace by Ted Hawkins, it is the most eclectic collection of Christmas songs you're likely to find.  

There are many other great Christmas songs that I could have included on this distinctly incomprehensive list, but that is part of the fun of tracking down some festive musicality. The hunt through the crap to find the kernels of greatness is what it's all about.  Of course, I could just be keeping some under wraps so I have something to talk about this time next year. Merry Christmas.

Fukuyo's Fables Debut EP Is A Quiet Achiever

You could be forgiven for thinking that if you're not a drum and bass or dubstep producer in Wellington you're not going to go very far on the live cicruit.  Almost every night of the week you'll find a venue pumping out the massive beats to the ever increasing masses.  However, for every hard and fast DJ there are about four hard working fledgling bands jamming away and looking to get noticed, and of those four bands, one of them will be great.  Fukuyo's Fables is one such band, and if you haven't heard of them yet, it's only a matter of time. 

The band have been playing together for over a year now but have only recently been making real ripples with the release of their self-titled EP in September, accompanied by a gig at the San Fran Bath House.  What really stands out throughout the record is the overpowering and often complex medley of vocals. In fact it can often be difficult to determine what exactly is breathy vocal and what is instrumental accompaniment, the two blend so well. 

The first track, Buildings, begins by evoking a wistful reminiscence of love on a seemingly chilly Winter's day. The timbering acoustic and vocals shiver through the beginning of the track, before being trodden on by a thumping folky percussive shuffle, then calming back down to finish as it started.  Drag 'Em is a rollercoaster of tempo, with an upbeat ditty descending into a lounging folk number, and back and forth again effortlessly. The juxtaposition of these two styles is hard to pull off, and can often seem jarring. But the journey this song takes you on is much deeper than the intro would first suggest.  My Oh is a small but perfectly formed package of heart-warming if bitter-sweet delight. 

Coffee Shaped Treat fully embraces the altogether darker and more moody atmosphere that up until this point had only been hinted at.  Ethereal vocal harmonies usher in Scott Maynard's forlorn ballad, and return to back him up as his vehement sighs overlay the frantic guitar and drums.  Coffee Shaped Treat is a tailor-made jamming beauty that gives the band the freedom to explore as much or as little of it as they want.  It's the kind of song you could see being either wrapped up at a gig in four minutes, or drawn out and played with as an eight or nine minute epic of acoustic despair and harmony.

No Such Thing As A Green Eyed Fox, not content with merely being a fantastic track title, rounds out the EP as an example of just how proficient the band are at their harmonic couplings. The band come together gloriously on this track, with Jeremy Hunter's skilful guitar, along with Maynard's lilting vocals, taking the lead and proving that The Phoenix Foundation don't have the monopoly on alt-folk in New Zealand.  The track ends on a laid back and sombre jam that leaves you full, but aching for more.

Fukuyo's Fables have stated their appreciation of Fleet Foxes, and they've already covered Bon Iver's Woods in their live shows, so it's plain to see where their influence lies.  But this is not to say that the band has merely tried to sound like those who inspire them. There is very definitely a stamp of individuality at work here, with Maynard's distinctly Kiwi vocals at the heart of it. At times fragile almost to the point of breaking, at other times warm and comforting, he leads the rest of the band in superb vocal harmonies and polished acoustics that soar above their humble station.  This is a band that, whatever inevitable success may come their way in the future, seem content with their very strong musical formula.  The quiet brilliance of their songs comes from their modesty, and when you listen to the EP, you in turn are likely to be quietly blown away.

Listen to (and buy!) Fuyuko's Fables' EP HERE.

Moving House Music. Not Moving House Music

I haven't updated the blog in a little while because I've been in the process of moving house, so don't be confused by the title. I'm talking here about music to move house to, not moving House music like some sweeping beatless remix of Trentmøller's 'Moan' or the like.  It turns out one can go on quite an unprecedented journey when going through every stressful stage of moving house, even to the point where you can to give up and pack the record player.

It's a journey that takes you by surprise as you never think to plan what you'll be listening, not unless you're very particular and plan ahead for every single aspect of your life.  You find yourself beginning the packing process by simply moving things around, and whatever is playing at the time seems fitting enough.  When you've accumulated years worth of stuff that suddenly needs moving, it can be extremely difficult to figure out exactly where to begin.  

Therefore, when what I happened to be listening to at the time finished, I had to think about what would best fit the mood for packing away the big stuff into boxes. The potential shown in Mumford & Sons' Sigh No More seemed to fit well with my apprehension about getting a mortgage and moving to the country.  Like my move, the record shows great potential, but like packing, its tempo and rhythm can get somewhat repetitive.  The attempt at a grand scale of folk rock did fit well with the whole 'beginning of a new era' that our household was feeling at the time, and it really added something to packing up the big furniture.

When it got down to packing the little stuff, it took a lot longer, so the whole Fat Freddy's Drop back catalogue was in order. Starting off with possibly the longest and most value-for-money EP Live At The Matterhorn, it shows not just how far the band has come since 2001, but how tight they were way back when it all began. Hardly surprising when you have the likes of Trinity Roots founder Warren Maxwell playing with you. It seemed appropriate since we'd be moving to within a stone's throw of Maxwell's Stonefeather Studios.

Fat Freddy's Drop: Good to move to.

By the time Live at the Roundhouse was finishing up, we were getting behind schedule, and needed to kick things up a notch.  So, with the help of Christchurch-born producer Tom Cosm we finished off the packing with some good old fashioned happy hardcore, a little technical dubstep wizardry thrown in, and his superb 2007 set at Melbourne's Make It Snow Festival to round off the frantic packing, taping, shouting, and heavy lifting.

Once everything but the sound system was packed, it was down to cleaning, and Cosm's superior had put us in the mood to go out rather than stay in to do the cleaning, so we needed a complete mood changer. Brian Eno's four seminal Ambient albums did the trick, and strangely, gave scrubbing a kitchen floor quite an epically ethereal quality.  Somehow I found myself really feeling that I was making a great social difference by cleaning this floor. I suppose I was in a way, giving my family the best start for the future by scrubbing the hell out of this floor and ensuring we got our full bond refund.  But Eno's sweeping dream-like album which, at over 35 years old, remains as contemporary as ever, will make anything you're doing at the time seem like the most important thing in the cosmos.

When the boombox was finally packed away, the last thing to leave the house before we did, all that was left to do was decide on what to listen to while driving through the Rimutaka Ranges. As has been done on so many day trips away, it felt wrong to listen to anything but old faithful Salmonella Dub's One Drop East. 

Defending The Jumping Flea: There Is Much More To The Ukulele Than You Might Think

Recently on a Stuff blog one little instrument was labelled as being "ruined by a fad". Its recent resurgence in popularity has had the Hawaiian little brother of the guitar come under attack, with the music played on it criticised as dumbed-down and insulting.  I would like to take this opportunity to defend this innocuous but delightful little instrument, and go some way in explaining why the seemingly unstoppable demand for the 'jumping flea' is a good thing. 

While there is no denying that it seems every single song in the history of music ever has its own ukulele cover, this can also be said for many other instruments. You can just as easily find covers of popular songs played on the acoustic, the bass, drums, string quartets, full orchestras, and even hundred-strong choral interpretations.  A song does not simply have to be imitated to be appreciated, but can be reinterpreted to bring a new atmosphere to the music.  While some may see that as a watering-down of the music, I prefer to think of it as an added value that you otherwise would not have found.  Sure the ukulele cannot bring the sweeping epic bliss of a Sigur Rós song truly to life, but it can add its own quiet fortitude to something like Hoppipolla, and you'd be surprised by just how much grinding metal can be gleaned from an electric ukulele putting Slayer's Angel of Death through its paces. 

Are covers played by people in their bedrooms all over the world less legitimate than, say, an album the aforementioned blog claims will not help the ukulele go beyond "novelty value"?  Eddie Vedder's relatively recent release Ukulele Songs came out of left field for a lot of Vedder fans, and its reception was fairly average to say the least.  The main criticisms seemed to focus on the restriction that comes from playing the ukulele, and perceived that as a lack of depth in Vedder's songwriting.  

Eddie Vedder's album Ukulele Songs has received a mixed back from critics.

However it seems that the subtle nuances that can be achieved with the ukulele, and the often bittersweet sound it is capable of, are often overlooked by critics who confuse light-heartedness with childishness. Yes using one instrument is going to be restrictive in its scope, but that should be no surprise when the record is called Ukulele Songs. What difference is there between that any other form of acoustic album.  Is simply the fact that the guitar is a small one make the music infantile? Of course not.

No one ever criticised Cliff 'Ukulele Ike' Edwards for being immature, at least not musically, and the maestro Bill Tapia has never been considered childish.  So why is ukulele music at the brunt of criticism from some music aficionados?  To answer that question you have to first understand why the ukulele has become so popular.  There are a number of contributing factors, but it is clear that in the past two years, ukulele sales have increased ridiculously, by 42% in some cases.

Some put it down to the global financial crisis forcing people interested in learning an instrument to compromise for the more inexpensive option offered by the ukulele. Others are claiming it to be all the Magnetic Fields' doing, with it featuring extensively on 1999's 69 Love Songs While some put it down to the indie-folk revolution from the likes of Mumford & Sons (though I'm sure the same aficionados would hasten to note that Country Winston Marshall plays a banjo and not a ukulele.)  If it is the cheaper cost of the ukulele that is the main reason however, then that will have gone some way in determining the demographic that is primarily playing the instrument.  Twenty-somethings who can't afford their own acoustic guitar and pluck for the ukulele are going to start their musical journey covering other peoples' music. That's just how it's done. With the advent of social media, and especially YouTube, we now have access to people practising those new-found skills in their bedrooms whereas before, if they managed to secure one, we the listener only got to see the end product in the pub or at the local social club. 

The fact that the ukulele is dangerously close to becoming considered the chosen instrument for the hipster, or the go-to instrument for use in the latest Apple ad, has turned a lot of people right of its twee-leanings (tweenings?) So it is perfectly understandable that music critics and general lovers of music over the age of 25 are going to be suspicious about this resurgence.  The novelty of the ukulele had already worn off for them even before the recent rise. So when someone like Amanda Palmer jumps on the uke bandwagon and covers a song like Creep no less, they are going to project their feeling of the song being devalued onto the instrument that they believe is devaluing the song.

Amanda Palmer enjoys playing the popular hits of Radiohead on her ukulele.

If you listened to the Ukulele Ike and Bill Tapia songs I previously linked, you will find them to be very different from the sounds made by Vedder and Palmer and the like.  There is more to the ukulele than some tropical strumming and a light-hearted ditty about a happy feeling.  All of the very same themes and emotions that can be wrought from an acoustic guitar are just as possible when playing the ukulele.  Though some misguided artists may feel the instrument is an easy string to add to their bow, and therefore fail to learn how to properly tune or indeed play a uke, the majority do bring their own value to the songs they are playing on the jumping flea.  

Modern artists who really know the intricacies of the ukulele are very much around, and can be found for those willing to search.  Beirut's Elephant Gun is a perfect example of just how beautifully a ukulele can combine with the rest of a band to really bring life and depth to a song, while Jake Shimabukuro's now famous rendition of George Harrison's While My Guitar Gently Weeps is simply one of the greatest solo renditions ever played on the famous Hawaiian guitar. While most show how easy it is to learn the instrument, very few can demonstrate just how difficult it is to truly master. That is not a restriction of the ukulele so much as a restriction of the player.

Demo Tracks By Your Favourite Band, On A Friday, Discovered After 25 Years

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.

The Gaslamp Killer and Crushington @ Sandwiches, Wellington (19/11/11)

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.