Saturday, 26 January 2013

steven wilson - the raven that refused to sing...

I'm listening to a sneaky early download of Steven Wilsons upcoming album The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories). I love the nicely pretentious title, and at times the music is like jumping back 40 years. Imagine Zappas early / mid 70s ensembles playing with the Mahavishnu Orchestra underpinned by Crimsons Bruford / Wetton rhythm section (all that heavy thud work and monstrous complex drumming), and you are kind of approaching the density and sheer bonkers-ness of this music. 

But it sounds oddly modern too - the production is amazing, as you'd expect with SW, and it sounds so immediate; on headphones the band is all around you. 

Theres mellotrons and flutes too, which are clearly a nod to early King Crimson, but also some very pretty melodies as well as some heavy riffing and insanely complicated stuff tooIt made me smile a lot too, which is always a good sign. The music is endlessly fascinating and actually quite exhilarating. The title track is uplifting and epic and claustrophobic and personal and downright emotional all at the same time. Quite a feat. 

I cant think of anyone else creating this complex, yet still accessible jazzy, rocky, proggy, fusiony music like this these days. Wilson is absolutely in a field of his own. Theres even some seriously sharp guitar shredding courtesy of Chelmsfords own Guthrie Govan, now a permanent fixture in Wilsons band it seems. Whilst Im doing fine with my MP3 download at the moment its very clear that the cd will sound incredible on a decent system.

Monday, 10 December 2012

ultravox! / john foxx

The first three Ultravox albums are very different from the band that hit the big time in 1980 with Vienna. Under the leadership of John Foxx, Ultravox! (with the ! apeing that of the German band NEU!) issued three albums between 1976 and 1978 which run the gamut of trashy glam, punk,  and eventually synth pop. It’s occasionally a bit rubbish, especially when they try too hard to be punks, and clearly they’re way too nice and middle-class to pull it off convincingly. But on the whole it’s a cracking mixture of the punk sensibility, the clear musical influences of Roxy and Bowie, and Foxx’s literary inclinations (especially his JG Ballard influences which see his lyrics peppered with lines about machines and liquids and stuff). Plus this band can play.

The first self-titled album sees all sorts of instruments thrown into the mix – wobbly synths, manic violins, incongruous acoustic guitar on the epic "I Want To Be A Machine", even some r’n’b style harmonica. It’s all a bit of a muddle to be honest, but in the same way that first Roxy album was a huge mess of ideas. It’s not as good as the first Roxy album, not be a long chalk, but the ambition is clear. The whole thing is a bit rough and ready, but the assistance of both Steve Lillywhite and Brian Eno helps pull the album together. Eno was at Island studios mixing some of this album when one of Ultravox took a call for him. Eno didn’t like being interrupted, but he was told it was an international call, and the guy on the other end says he’s David Bowie. Still thinking it was a prank, Eno reluctantly took the call, and by the end of the week he was helping Bowie record Low at the Chateau d’Herouville just outside Paris.

The second Ultravox album, Ha! Ha! Ha! was recorded in the first few weeks of 1977 and has an appealingly vital live sound. The songs are way more focused and tighter and display a far stronger commercial sense than on the debut. And the best ideas are those that clearly point the way forward – the closing track, the hugely electronic "Hiroshima Mon Amour" is an astounding leap forward from the opening punky thrash of "ROckWrok" (and check out that crazy spelling folks, and surely the title came from the not at all punk 801’s "RongWrong"?) But despite the chilly Germanic soundscapes of "Hiroshima" that song on this album that really sums up the Foxx era is "The Man Who Dies Every Day" – a stomping electronic beat, woozy keyboards, jagged guitars and a very English lyric which marvellously rhymes ‘a moment in the rain’ with ‘a gesture of disdain’, delivered in Foxx’s clinical croon. And it’s supremely catchy.

The third Foxx album, 1978’s Systems Of Romance, is more of a precursor to Vienna in terms of the overall sound, but apart from a few key songs, it seems to me to be rather confused as to what’s it’s trying to achieve. There’s still a number of guitar-led tracks that try to hang onto the punk sound even though it’s clear by now that Ultravox don’t do that very successfully. The more synth based songs are notably much better – the dreamlike "Slow Motion" is especially good and "When You Walk Through Me" is basically a psychedelic Beatles-type song (complete with phasing and Warren Cann playing the drum part from "Tomorrow Never Knows"). It’s a good album, but perhaps not as enjoyable as Ha! Ha! Ha!.

And then Foxx was gone, intent on becoming a Machine, delivering the astonishingly good Metamatic at the start of 1980. Gary Numan steals much of the Systems Of Romance sound for Replicas and The Pleasure Principle (and steals Billy Currie to help him achieve it) and has massive success with a sound and style that Ultravox had originated. By then of course Ultravox had basically split up, during the middle of 1979 (Warren Cann drummed for the Buggles for a while, and Currie played with Numan and then Visage where he met Midge Ure.) Ultravox then reformed with Midge in the winter of 1979 / 1980 and came up with Vienna. And they didn’t look back after that!

neil young & crazy horse live



I've downloaded a few recent gigs from Neil and the Horse but none are as good as the superb show they played I've downloaded a few recent gigs from Neil and the Horse but none are as good as the superb show they played just three nights ago at the Borgata Hotel in Atlantic City. It was part of a Hurricane Sandy benefit, but they didn’t change their regular set at all, so it’s just 13 songs... however, as some of these run for more than 20 minutes each you still get a gig lasting more than two hours. 

And, although I’m not sure it’s entirely appropriate, they encore with a 25 minute “Like A Hurricane” which does what Sandy couldn’t, and blows the roof off the Hotel. It's surely one of the best “Hurricane”s I’ve ever heard. The energy from the Horse is incredible throughout the whole show, and Neil is on fire, singing his socks off, and coaxing the most amazing sounds out of Old Black – how the hell that guitar is still going, after all the abuse it’s had over the past 40 years, is something that only Neil can explain, but I’m so glad that it is still functioning, as no other guitar sounds quite like it.

There are so many highlights - “Ramada Inn” is the best I’ve ever heard; lovely new song “Singer Without A Song” finds Neil at the piano with the Horse clustered round him helping out on harmonies. The show heads for the home straight by cranking up the Crazy Horse Time Machine - the always brilliant “Cinnamon Girl” is followed by the even older “Mr Soul” and then it's straight into a spirited but rather ragged “Rockin’ In The Free World” (rarely played on this tour) and then a stompingly good “Hey Hey, My My”. The encore is the aforementioned amazing encore of “Hurricane”. 

No UK dates so far, but Neil has just announced Australian dates for next March so he and the Horse are obviously planning on continuing this tour next year. I would LOVE to see them live, especially playing as well as they are right now.

Friday, 9 November 2012

neil young & crazy horse - psychedelic pill


The new album from Neil and the Horse is an odd one - loads of electronic wizardry, synths galore, lots of rapping, and beat box stuff, it’s like Neil has gone all Doctor Dre on us.

Actually no. Of course not.

It’s EXACTLY like you’d expect a Neil Young and Crazy Horse album to be, only just a bit bigger and longer than usual. This music really, genuinely, is timeless. It really could have been recorded at any point in the last 40 years or so.

The opening song "Driftin’ Back" kind of makes this point. It starts with Neil and his acoustic, strummin’ away, singin’ his ol’ song and then the Horse are faded in, rumbling along at full speed (which for the Horse isn’t actually that fast these days) – the effect is exactly that of remembering an old Crazy Horse song and it popping up in your mind, quite literally driftin’ back. Neil starts riffing on how MP3's only give you a tiny percentage of the actual music when you used get it all - the lyrics seem like random thoughts that pop into Neil's head - by the end he starts wondering if he should get himself a Hip Hop Haircut, but frankly it's not the words that really matter. The wistful, things used to be better, vibe is carried by the laid back but still urgent guitar work. The track lasts for nearly 28 minutes! That’s actually longer than the whole Neil Young and the Shocking Pinks album. By the 3 minute mark you know precisely how "Driftin’ Back" goes, and you’ve got another 25 minutes still to come. Yet it doesn’t get boring, at all. In fact I was really quite disappointed when it ended.

The album mixes a handful of really lengthy songs with a number of shorter tracks – such as the title song, which is swathed in phasing to an almost comical degree, or the jaunty "Born In Ontario", or "Twisted Road" with it’s namechecks for Dylan and the Dead. These slighter, shorter songs are terrific, and are arguably more directly emotional ("For The Love Of Man" is the most tender, being a delightful song for his son) but it’s the long ones which will, quite rightly gain most of the attention, and these are really what we all came for.

The bitter sweet "Ramada Inn" is a bit like an update of "Love And Only Love". Neil tosses out the lyrics like murmured asides, but he stil manages to paint an extraordinarily vivid picture (with such few words), of a couple in their twilight years. Once he's had a few drinks she barely recognizes her husband anymore, but they still, somehow, love each other.

"She's Always Dancing" has another classic Horse tune and a lovely chorus with some cracking harmonies from the four of them. In fact, one of the best parts about this album is the slightly wonky singing. The harmonies are just about there, the lead vocals are just about on track, but it's all a bit ramshackle and has a wry well worn feeling about it. The implication is that these guys still have it, but only just, but they are still gonna give you everything they've got.

The epic "Walk Like A Giant" carries on the album's main theme - a wistful look back at the past, when, as younger men, they were convinced that they could change the world. The cheery whistling that pops up at various stages is at odds with the sad sense of the words, that perhaps the optimism of youth doesn't actually change things after all.

Perhaps the only minus point on the album is the inclusion of the second, un-phased version of "Psychedelic Pill". It’s not that it’s bad or anything, far from it, but it seems wrong being tacked on the end after the massively drawn out ending of "Walk Like A Giant" which is the perfect conclusion to the album. So to stick a short track after that seems very out of place. And, what's more, the alternative version of "Psychedelic Pill" bizarrely fades out just before the end of the song, which makes it an even more inappropriate way to close the record. But that’s Neil for you. Even when you think you've got the measure of him and of this album he goes and does his own thing. Just when you don't expect it. Just because he can.

This album is very worthy successor to all the other Neil / Horse albums. It’s just like the very best of them, yet it’s still different, still fresh, still engaging and engrossing and I could listen to this sort of stuff for ever.

Thursday, 11 October 2012

marianne faithfull - broken english


Marianne Faithfull was the darling of the 1960s. With her classic English rose beauty and her rock star boyfriend - Mick Jagger - she appeared to have it all. But her association with the Rolling Stones almost killed her. To many, it seems as if she was dragged into a mire of drugs and depravity by the Stones, although by all accounts Marianne didn't need much encouragement. By 1970 she was being haunted by the ghost of Brian Jones (she would actually see his face in mirrors), she'd attempted suicide and was a full blown heroin addict. Much of the 1970s would find Marianne homeless, sometimes actually living on the streets, moving from one filthy squat to another. There were a couple of attempts at resurrecting her recording career - in 1975, in conjunction with Joe Cocker's band, she recorded a number of country standards that weren't properly released until many years later.

But in 1979 she returned. Encouraged by her then boyfriend Ben Brierley (at the time a member of the Vibrators) she worked up a number of excellent new wave songs, the demos of which impressed Island Records enough to give her a 3 album deal. The resulting sessions were overseen by Mark Miller Mundy who managed to draft in some formidable musicians, including Steve Winwood, Morris Pert and Barry Reynolds (who was concurrently working with another new Island signing, Grace Jones).

Broken English is very 1979 in sound and production, and very English too. The drums have that peculiarly British dry crispness that many songs had at that time, and the undeniable funkiness of the band is played down rather than up as an American production would have done. It also rocks, hard. The title track has some excellent dynamics – a solidly pounding beat but with all sorts of guitar / keyboard clashes over the top, and Marianne’s cracked and rasping voice topping it all off. Marianne's voice had changed considerably since the 1960s; never a particularly strong voice it had now deepened and lowered, ravaged by years of nicotine and narcotics. But it suited the new material so very well, investing the songs with a weary, worn out quality that was perfect. 

 There are a couple of lighter songs, like "Brain Drain" or "What’s the Hurry?" but these are balanced by tracks like the darkly brooding "Guilt" or the snarly cover of Lennon’s "Working Class Hero". Side two opens with the delightful "Ballad Of Lucy Jordan" – one of Annie Nightingale’s favourite songs ever – which sounds like it was perfectly written for Marianne (but it wasn’t - it was, slightly alarmingly, actually a Dr Hook song from the early 1970s…). The album closes with one of the most vicious songs ever, "Why’d Ya Do It?", which still, even now, surprises me with the depth of bitterness and loathing in Marianne’s voice. A stunning performance.

Left off the album, but used as a b side, was a brilliant new version of "Sister Morphine". After all her troubles throughout the 1970s, homelessness, addictions of all sorts, near death illnesses, it’s here, ten years on from when the song was written, that Marianne invests the song with the level of gravitas that the slightly sensationalist lyrics require. Much as I admire the Stones version from Sticky Fingers, I can’t help thinking that Jagger is play-acting the role. I just can’t quite believe his version, but I can believe every word that Marianne sings on this recording, and it’s pretty damn scary too.

Interestingly the album nearly didn't sound as contemporary and as New Wave as it did. All the songs were originally recorded in a far more conventional AOR style, and it was only as the masters were being readied for pressing that Marianne and Mundy decided to remix the whole thing into a more synth / new wave style, and that's when they employed Steve Winwood to add a whole bunch of new keyboards. The original backing tracks sound not unlike Rumours-era Fleetwood Mac. Not a bad thing per se, but the reworked album was clearly better and more original and has stood the test of time rather better than the original version would have, as that sounds very late 1970s.

Having said that though there’s something very impressive about the original versions, mixing new wave musicians with straight up old school UK session men. The mixture works well and gives the songs both an edgy feel and also a strength and effortlessly commanding quality that punk musicians didn’t possess. Without the overbearing synths of the finished album we have saxophones and slide guitars taking centre stage. A track like "Lucy Jordan" is much closer to the Dr Hook original (yikes!!), with gentle guitars and an insistent shuffle on the drums, rather than the weirdly burbling synth dominated finished version (which had no drums at all, and apart from keyboards, virtually no other instruments at all, for that matter). The closing "Why’d Ya Do It?" is much longer in it’s original form, though not quite as scathingly harsh; there are more backing vocals too, across the whole album. Fascinating stuff. Marianne has said that she now prefers the original version, although she’d assumed the tapes to be long lost. But apparently the master had simply been sitting on a shelf in a store room marked DNU, 'do not use'.
The next couple of Faithfull albums – Dangerous Acquaintances and A Child’s Adventure kept to a similar new wave style as Broken English, but with more of an eye to getting a hit. No hits were forthcoming of course, and the albums were rather weedier and less impressive than intended, though both contain a number of excellent songs amongst the lesser numbers. Most notable is Barry Reynolds' brilliant "Times Square" which opens A Child's Adventure and which stands head and shoulders above the rest of the album.  

steven wilson - get all you deserve

Today’s music is Steven Wilson in concert earlier this year in Mexico City.
It’s the soundtrack to his new dvd / blu-ray called Get All You Deserve, which I don’t actually have yet, but it's on my list. Rather annoyingly the double cd version is only available with the blu-ray, but the internet has all sorts of goodies if you know where to look and so I now have a shiny FLAC copy… And it sounds mighty fine. Beautifully crystal clear recording, as you’d expect from Steven Wilson, not too loud either, not brickwalled and clipped like so many albums these days, so the loud bits sound significantly louder than the quiet bits, and there’s lots of contrast. It actually sounds like a real band, playing real instruments at real volumes. The band is superb, with Wilson conducting and directing as much as he’s playing, so the whole thing comes across a bit like Zappa’s bands of the 1970s, mixed with King Crimson and some early 70s fusion. In fact with all the mellotron, flute and frankly groovy electric piano on display you’d be forgiven for thinking that it was actually 1972. But this is very sharp stuff, not woolly prog rambling, and even the more improvised passages are precise and controlled – plus there’s some satisfyingly heavy shredding at times.

There’s no Porcupine Tree, the music all comes from Wilson’s two solo albums, plus one new piece. Interestingly, although the tracks really don’t deviate much from their studio templates, the looser feel conjured up in concert really suits the pieces. The next album is being recorded as I type this, with the emphasis in the studio on the band playing as a unit and allowing lots of room to stretch out and improvise. He’s describing it as much jazzier than his previous work, which could be good, or it could be horrendous. But if Wilson’s idea of jazz is the new track, then I think we’re ok. This piece, called "Luminol" is a fiendishly complex little monster, with lashings of early 70’s Crimson. Not what I’d call jazz, but it's damn good music so who cares.

Friday, 31 August 2012

tom verlaine - vanity fair

Tom Verlaine on the iPod today.

Specifically the Vanity Fair sessions from 1986. This is a complete album that, for reasons that no-one understands, was rejected by Verlaine's record label Fontana. It's been suggested that the songs weren't commercial enough, which is rather baffling. This is Tom Verlaine we're talking about - he's never been commercial! And Tom came up with a replacement album, Flash-Light, the following year, an album that I would suggest was considerably less commercial than the original submission… but that’s Verlaine for you...

The original sessions were recorded in London with Dave Bascombe producing and the only track that survived the rejection was a remixed "The Scientist Writes A Letter". For no obvious reason unknown the original Bascombe recording is referred to as the ‘Paris version’ despite having been recorded in London… that wacky Verlaine humour, huh? "One Time At Sundown" is the only other overlap with the Flash-Light album, but it was totally re-recorded for the released album, so this London version is different (though not that much…)

Some, but not all, of the other Vanity Fair tracks cropped up as b sides over the next few years, and some also appeared on The Miller’s Tale, the now hard to find compilation that came out in the mid 1990s. 

But the album, as originally planned, would have run as follows -
1. Sixteen Tulips
2. Caveman / Flashlight
3. Anna
4. The Scientist Writes A Letter 
5. Call Me The
6. Circling
7. Smoother Than Jones
8. Vanity Fair
9. One Time At Sundown

It's a great collection with lots of chunky guitar work from Tom and sterling support from Fred Smith on bass, Andy Newmark on drums and Jimmy Ripp on guitar.

Many of the songs are solid rockers, such as the delightful "Sixteen Tulips" or "Smoother Than Jones". In fact, these two are extremely catchy, and make me wonder about the 'not-commercial-enough argument. The melody of "Sixteen Tulips" is also suspiciously close to "Say A Prayer" on the Flash-Light album, which also makes the non-commercial argument fall apart even more.

There are gnarly, twisted guitarfests too, such as "Caveman / Flashlight" or the title track. But it's perhaps on the quieter numbers that this album really shines.

"One Time At Sundown" is light and airy and "Anna" is beautiful, and gloriously lovely in a way that most Verlaine songs aren’t. I love the offhand way Tom mumbles ‘I must lay down, but I’m not tired…’

But it's "The Scientist Writes A Letter" that floors me every time with how brilliantly clever it is, and how brilliantly emotional it is too. The guitar synths work well here, and the closing guitar solo is absolutely stunning. Tom’s vocal on this track is also worth mentioning. Frequently his vocals give the impression of being an afterthought, tossed out with little care. But here the vocal is superb – perfectly pitched, half spoken, half sung, excellent timing, and extremely well acted too. I also love the way that the lyric is written out as a letter on the lyric sheet. When you read the letter it’s almost impossible to imagine how the words could ever fit into a song, but they do, and Verlaine makes them work perfectly.

Dear Julia,
Unless chance finds us face to face again, this is the last you'll hear from me.
I spent this Sunday, a long afternoon, freezing at my friend's house by the sea. We men of science... you know.
I've returned to my research in magnetic fields. It's funny how attractive indifference can be. My sense of failure... it's not so important. Electricity means so much more to me. We men of science... you know...
It's snowing again, seems like it's always snowing. Sit down to write and it's so cold. Outside my window, there's a tree so white I can hardly look at it.
It's quiet here. I look thru my glass at patterns all so well defined. Please send my winter coat soon as you can ...I find I have no other lines... we men of science... you know... all the best... all the best Julia…

The conceit of the whole vocal being a letter could come off as being daftly pretentious, but it works; it’s invested with a sharp emotional pull, and makes me buy entirely into the song. It’s the little touches – the repeated self deprecating line ‘we men of science’ is followed by a barely audible weary murmur of ‘you know…’ which doesn’t sound like much when written down but it’s wonderful when Tom does it! The Vanity Fair version is slightly different from the more familiar Flash-Light release. The synths are slightly more prominent, the whole mix is more punchy and interestingly less dreamy, and the middle part has an entirely different spoken section – instead of the tree that is so white that Tom can hardly look at it, we have some mumbled nonsense about men on a train talking about icicles… I think he made the right choice in changing this bit.

Most copies of Vanity Fair contain a bonus track - a brilliant live version of "Marquee Moon" from the 1987 tour. What a performance. I mean it’s hard to get this track wrong, as it’s so fantastic anyway, but Verlaine and Jimmy Ripp really nail "MM" just as well as Tom and Richard Lloyd did when Television played it. Tremendously exciting stuff.

Enough – I'm going to play it again.