Those over at gigwise.com have just unleashed their very own “albums of the year” list, featuring many an artist in common with our list. That might have something to do with “our Jamie” having his say in the list, and contributing a few words to it too:
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Noah and The Whale: ‘First Days Of Spring’ (Vertigo)
– Laura Marling will come of much focus next year. Her own “F.U.R.B” will most likely make its appearance after, let’s face it, Charlie Fink made her sound like a malicious heartbreaker on ‘The First Days Of Spring’. Fink’s story is told with clichéd natural imagery, quite un-originally comparing a relationship to the four seasons. But the ambitious, building sonics conjured by orchestras and a tight band performance give this album something really beautiful to take pride in, a beauty that was even portrayed in a feature film that accompanied the album upon release.
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Animal Collective: ‘Merriweather Post Pavillion’ (Domino) -
From the very start; building minimal acoustic pop and keeping to the notion of abstraction, to now; releasing full-blown pop music, Animal Collective have done nothing but grow. Their sound has developed like only a fortune-teller could see coming, their status has morphed from cult heroes to mass opinion-dividers. Those aware of ‘Merriweather Post Pavilion’ either feel betrayed by it, disgusted by it or more suitably, feel that the golden age of Avey Tare and co. has just arrived. A work of staggering brilliance.
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Wild Beasts: ‘Two Dancers’ (Domino) –
Ditching intimidating flamboyance for something far more tender and heart-swept, Wild Beasts came of age in 2009 with their beautiful display of melancholy in ‘Two Dancers’. Maintaining lyrical wit and crossover vocals that previously warded off passers by, only this time supporting them with lighter, more cuddly melodies, they struck gold. This Kendal-bred four piece now look like a serious prospect for the long run and regardless of the excellence of ‘Two Dancers’, many are already expecting better – a feat that will surely be near impossible to achieve.
ALBUM REVIEW: Japandroids – Post-Nothing
words: Jamie Milton
originally scribed for gigwise
Now, I don’t condone alcohol consumption, kids. But hopefully many of you will be able to relate to the feeling of being on a complete high due to a few drinks, that sense that you love all of your friends, that everything’s going to be ok, that any impending nasty incident doesn’t really exist. You’re a complete tosser, a failure in life and your left shoe’s beginning to fall off, but you feel completely untouchable. ‘Post-Nothing’ somehow conveys that feeling like no other album ever has: intimate joy, for yourself and your loved ones, the ones you’re arm in arm with. United as one, completely deluded but overcome with glee.
This sensation is achieved from just one kit of drums, one fuzzed-up guitar, and two average singing voices, chanting in unison occasionally to add to the enthused euphoria. You can’t enter ‘Post-Nothing’ casually and you really shouldn’t put the record on shuffle. To get complete fulfillment, let ‘The Boys Are Leaving Town’’s melancholy and ferocious pace draw you in, for this is just the beginning of a new chapter, leaving town, with caution and optimism. As things progress, you find yourself nodding along, then beating the nearest inanimate object in time to David Prowse’s drums, then collapsing onto the floor, scatterbrained, overwhelmed. A journey it is, then. And as you follow Prowse and his companion, the ever-present, unbalanced Brian King, on their journey from home, you feel part of the youthful intensity that ‘Post-Nothing’ completely relies on.
Devoid of bullshit and devoid of pretense, this avoids pale, thinly-formed comparisons to more hip, noise-rock contemporary band’s whose location and social network is more important than how they sound. Its highs come in the form of ‘Young Hearts Spark Fire’, a song that contains a lyric to summarise the whole record: “We used to dream, now we only worry about dying, I don’t wanna worry about dying.” So much attitude, so little time to think about anything important, living for the moment like a naive early-teen. Elsewhere, ‘Wet Hair’ demonstrates the most outstanding chord sequence: fuelled with ecstacy and unceasing, it’s something akin to No Age at their finest. And ‘Heart Sweats’ intricately demonstrates the two’s fantastic knack for taking a rhythm, and building and building everything around it with progressive pace and grandiose.
Ultimately, more than anything, ‘Post-Nothing’ is a direct kick in the face towards every musician that sits in corners for hours, pressing their head, asking for inspiration so that they can become inventive and forward-thinking. This record merely puts a tried and tested formula to use and performs it without fault and most importantly, with thoroughgoing spirit.
8.4
mp3: Japandroids – Heart Sweats
words: Jamie Milton
originally scribed for gigwise
Underage Festival 2008, Wild Beasts have just started their set on the Domino stage, a stage home to their record label. Teenagers haven’t turned up in their masses and you assume those watching with little movement are just taking it all in. But then there’s a hormonal flurry as a good 99/100 of the crowd flock towards the Domino merch man, with free gifts on offer. Wild Beasts, unphased, simply play on the finer material on their debut album, ‘Limbo, Panto’. At the time, you couldn’t help but feel that they were grossly misunderstood, especially amongst these bloody kids. Because Wild Beasts are the sort of band you should care a lot about. Yet all of a sudden, people really, really care. ‘Two Dancers’ is waving the “album of the year” flag loud and proud for all to see and this time round, people are flocking to have a listen, not to bag some freebies.
So far, unless someone from The Sun publicly projects their disbelief at Hayden Thorpe’s “bit too girly” falsetto, Wild Beasts’ second album is pretty much the most critically acclaimed piece of music around. And the dust has yet to settle – ‘Two Dancers’ is only being released this week. Taking it in calmly and collectively, but staying all the more appreciative of what’s happening, bassist and husky-voiced co-vocalist with Thorpe, Tom Fleming seems in good spirits: “I mean, when we began, we didn’t say: “We’re going to make a critically acclaimed album,” but I’m noticing how much difference a good review makes and how much people’s opinions matter and how much the coarse of opinion matters.” This acknoledgement comes one day after the NME prints its 9/10 review for ‘Two Dancers’, a critical move that will no doubt expose Wild Beasts to a completely new audience. “It’s just great that they’re taking us seriously, it’s very, very nice that it’s going down so well.”
For a band that have been widely divisive between audiences, both on record and on stage, now is the time for Wild Beasts to certify their musical legacy, if they can. “If nothing else, we’re a “sit up and pay attention” band, we have the “what the fuck” factor at least.” Tom admits,
“But that’s the test this time with ‘Two Dancers’, we no longer have this “what the fuck” factor, we’re no longer a new band and we’re no longer young.” Fleming gives the impression of a man with his feet firmly on the ground. Regardless of where ‘Two Dancers’ might end up taking them, you can expect nothing but professionalism and modesty from this Kent-bred quartet.
“I remember asking to be made to sound half Elvis Presley, half Slavian Rapist”.
The album itself fits the requirements of the perfect second album. It’s a rotation of ideas, from theatric flamboyancy to reverb-soaked vulnerability, lyrics remain littered with sex-references, percussion is kept smart and tight but somewhere during the last year or so, something clicked and Wild Beasts matured and truly became Beasts, as opposed to cubs. Fleming declares the recording process a “big learning curve for us”, convinced that his band emerged from the studio, “growing in confidence”. On ‘Two Dancers’, amongst a melancholic, underwater atmosphere comes a dance-off between Thorpe and Fleming, both completely diverse vocalists, both representing various ideas and goals. “Me and Hayden realised that we’d both become two characters, representing different poles of the album.” Hayden Thorpe is essentially the intellectual, sex-obsessed nutcase, blasting out rhyming couplets that a good generation of lyricists wouldn’t be capable of replicating, whilst Thorpe plays the part of an exposed human being, one brave enough to declare “two hearts, no more” at the close of the two-part title track, the absolute centerpiece of the latest record.
But there’s more to ‘Two Dancers’ than sex references and a battle between two extravagant characters. “The ‘two dancers’ theme that underpins it is this idea of something always being out of reach, something always beyond your control. Everything is leading this formalised, abstract pattern, as if your life is proceeding without you and this album covers the joys and the frustrations of that. There’s a lot of loss and reconciliation, I suppose and it ends indefinitely, unsure.” He’s right, at the heart of it all, ‘Two Dancers’ is one of the most melancholic releases for some time. It switches between an defeatist attitude and one quite gritty and intimidating. Fleming recalls how he wanted ‘All The Kings Men’ to sound: “I remember asking to be made to sound half Elvis Presley, half Slavian Rapist”.
“The biggest pleasure of music is surprise,” announces Tom. And that completely sums up Wild Beasts. Whatever they continue to become, they will always be a band that stay true to the laurel of making a casual passer-by shake their head in disbelief and make a scurry to the merchandise stand.
mp3: All The King’s Men // alt
LIVE: Crystal Stilts–The Shop Assistants @ Windmill, Brixton–13/02/09
Brooklyn has been at the centre of a garage-pop revival of late, born of stripped-back diy-rock that finds its feet somewhere between the dreampop of C86 cohorts The Shop Assistants and lo-fi post-punk outfit Young Marble Giants. Key players on the scene include Cause Co-motion, Vivian Girls, and tonight’s Windmill headliners, Crystal Stilts.
First up from Italy, A Classic Education are a sextet with an unpretentious yet unoriginal take on tambourine-bashing indie-pop of late, a la Arcade Fire (the band once opened for Win Butler and co. last year). Despite hailing from Bologna, their lyrics curl with a thick American accent that reminds of Deathcab For Cutie frontman Ben Gibbard. Two guitars give the band sound depth, while a violinist lends an orchestral element that veers towards the grandiose, but is limited by lyrics that tend to lack guile. They finish with ‘Stay Son’, a track from the ‘First EP’, and depart the tiny corner stage to disperse among the tight-packed crowd.
First impressions of Crystal Stilts confirm them a frosty bunch. The sporadic elements of their sound, shot with lo-fi romance, seem in constant conflict, which lends itself to a stuffy tension. Vocalist Brad Hargett towers at the front, but his voice is barely audible beneath rattling tambourines, the tinny chimes of a sixties organ, reverberating surfer guitars and what can only be described as ferocious drumming on the part of ex-Vivian Girls’ percussionist, Frankie Rose. It’s at once gloomy and infectious.
What Crystal Stilts lack in variation they make up for in sonic consistency, adopting a contrived unbalance that makes their sound lysergic and dour. Hargett reminds of Ian Curtis as he sways, arms swinging, steely gaze fixed and voice deep and droning. When the band address the audience, the words come from Frankie on drums, drenched in sweat and grinning, or muffled and vacant from Hargett. There’s something irrepressibly revivalist about the spectral guitars and faux-romanticism of the doom-pop Crystal Stilts purport. But they carry the flag unapologetically ahead of their Brooklyn-based peers and if art reflects life, Crystal Stilts are the perfect soundtrack to empty purses in the half-light of this wintry city.
A C C O M P A N Y
M E
FEVER RAY
words: Hazel Sheffield
originally scribed for gigwise
Karin Dreijer is no stranger to success. As one sibling half of The Knife, the thirty-three year old Swede has released three internationally acclaimed albums, won a string of Grammis (the Swedish equivalent of the Grammys), and been awarded numerous album of the year accolades (including Gigwise) for 2006’s ‘Silent Shout’. While previous work sans brother Olof has included recording with both Royksopp and dEUS, Karin will release her debut solo album this year, under the new moniker Fever Ray. She caught up with Gigwise recently to talk about going solo, professional priorities and making a stand…
Karin Dreijer’s vocals are anything but apologetic. They are razor sharp, emanating from an underworld, burning through slick electronica as crystal salt on frozen ground; beguiling like the invented mystique of her musical persona. Her music videos show her masked, painted, impersonated: essentially faceless. “I think it’s very important to separate the person behind the work from the music,” she explains. “I’m sure that Fever Ray contains a lot of personal elements, it’s a part of me, but every person has different roles in their own life. You’ll be a different way in your professional life to the way you’ll be with your family, and again with your husband or partner. I feel like Fever Ray is one of my different roles in life.”
Although thirty-three and a mother of two, there is an unexpected unsteady element to her conversation. It might be simply a matter of language barriers and unfamiliarity, yet Karin is softly spoken, humble, and slightly shy as she talks intelligently about her work. The Dreijer siblings have frequently avoided media attention in the past. They didn’t perform anything live until five years after debut album ‘The Knife’ had gone triple platinum, and once famously sent friends in gorilla costumes to collect their Grammi Awards as a protest at the white, male dominated music industry of their home country.
“I don’t think we try to be anonymous, but it’s important to make priorities between doing promo or working in the studio.” Karin says of her musical preoccupations, which come as cold water to the face of a British music industry sold all too frequently on the skin-deep. “We weren’t into doing performances for the first six years or so because we concentrated on working in the studio, which we were good at. The shows we did in 2006 were very much a project for us, working out how we could do a l
ive show. Since then we are a bit more open about it, when we talk about future Knife things we also think of it as a performance act.”
For now though, Karin’s making waves on her own in the wake of a Knife hiatus. “When The Knife finished touring in 2006 we had been working together for seven years, and I think both of us needed some time off and to do something else. I started working on my own and it turned out as Fever Ray a bit later. I love sitting by the computer and programming, and I’ve been using a lot of analogue equipment.” Kristoffel Bari and Van Rivers helped produce in the final stages, and a live band has been put together for the touring that will ensue this spring.
Fever Ray is indelibly marked with inherited sonic elements from The Knife, but there is darker matter at hand here, too. Of her influences, Karin explains: “I was very into the Jim Jarmusch film ‘Dead Man’ during last summer especially, which expressed a more primitive and primal element I wanted to capture. Also I’ve been listening to a lot of Tomahawk, an Indian inspired album called ‘Anonymous’. I feel like that album especially is very free and inspiring. Fever Ray is still very electronic, but maybe a little more organic than previously.”
The video for first single ‘If I Had A Heart’ runs as a short film across mist-covered rivers and into wooden houses hung with antlers, where Karin lurks, painted as a skeleton. It is a haunting backdrop to the sinister throb and dark, writhing vocal of the track itself, although not all of the video’s early audiences were affected by its horror-like supernaturalism: “My eldest daughter didn’t think it was scary! She said, ‘Mum, you look just like someone from KISS!’ She’ll soon be six.”
It is hard to identify the proud parent that Karin suddenly becomes with the fragile preconstructed image of her as the elusive, in-demand heroine of Swedish electronica. But if she eludes the restrictions of labels she does so in an industry that is becoming increasingly receptive to the individual. Karin is optimistic about the future of music, saying, “Now that big, powerful record labels are beginning to disappear, something good will come out of it. Especially with the internet, artists can reach out to a new audience without going through older, more conservative ways of releasing records.”
And of her own future? “I know that during 2009 I will be doing this with Fever Ray, some touring, and finishing the music for an opera that The Knife is working on. I love making music most of the time, but I don’t know about the future. I don’t plan that much ahead.” If her album receives anywhere near the recognition it deserves, Karin might find she has a busy few years ahead of her.
M E C H A N I S M S
WE HAVE BAND
words: Hazel Sheffield
originally scribed for gigwise
photos: Carsten Windhorst
Times are hard in the music business. With the high street stripped of music stores, distributors holding CDs to ransom, and majors issuing pay-offs and lay-offs faster than you can flip a vinyl, the only thing you won’t find a shortage of is the sob stories of the suddenly jobless. But while most of the recently redundant are spending their time crying into the shrunken Guardian Media section, three names new to the EMI alumni are taking matters into their own hands…
Thomas and Dede WP are no ordinary husband and wife, as bandmate Darren Bancroft testifies ahead of their Kill ‘Em All performance at Fabric. “They’re the most unique and special couple I’ve ever met. Sometimes we’ll have been together for five days and I’ll get home alone for the first time in ages, and then Dede will text me going ‘I’ve got some lyrics for a song,’ or something, just when I think I’ve got nothing left, I realise there’s always more.”
Together, the self-dubbed ‘disco-rock trio’ make We Have Band, the name that has been hovering on the lips of taste-makers and the electro-savvy for the last few months, ever since 50 Bones released 300 limited edition vinyl copies of their debut single ‘Oh!’ in November. Their sound is as equally DIY as their origins – they mix mucky, dark bass lines reminiscent of the raw post-punk of ESG with the brighter feral funk of Can and the more modernist, electro-pop hues of New Pony Club or Hot Chip. A sound which, let’s be honest, there’s quite a lot of around at the moment in various electro-pop-band guises.
“I’m not going to claim we’re doing something totally different,” Darren says of ‘the scene’. “I think that’s unnecessary. We don’t really care much about all of that stuff. People are always attaching themselves to any given scene, but I think it’s just what pe
ople have decided to focus upon at any given time, you know?”
For the moment, it’s what these three ex-EMI colleagues have decided to focus on, at least. We Have Band was conceived at the leaving do for another EMI associate, just as all three members took their redundancy from the label. “Sometimes when you’ve got nothing to lose, it’s like, let’s just do this,” Darren explains of the decision. “Tom and Dede already had the name of the band and everything, and we all knew we wanted to do something. The first time we got together we just all sat down, had some dinner so we were all really relaxed, and then we wrote a song, and that’s why it’s so easy for us – we just all really get on.”
There’s a definite magnetism between them off and on stage that has seen them attract attention from all the right angles. “All the people that have discovered us and started working with us tend to be the bravest magazines and radio stations. Even our manager hasn’t done loads of stuff before but he just really liked the band and went for it,” Darren says.
As far as record deals are concerned, they’re keeping their cards close to their chest and staying unsigned. “There genuinely isn’t the space to think about these things,” Darren says of the paperwork. “All our energies are in writing lyrics and recording. I think everyone is super scared at the moment, understandably so. Big labels will sniff at anything, and then the smaller labels sometimes take a bit longer. But we’re still recording the album, and the single we put out, it wasn’t rushed, but it was one of the first things we ever did, so also we don’t want to do everything so quickly. We just want to give things time to breathe I guess.”
It seems We Have Band are a three-way electro love affair that everyone wants a piece of, so taking that time out to hone their sound could be essential. “I’ve no idea what I’d do if it went wrong!” Darren exclaims of the future. For now, there’s a lot of buzz about We Have Band, emanating from inside the intimate adrenaline-fuelled threesome, and surrounding their dirty, tight electro-punk. They have band, and now they have a lot to prove. We have high hopes.
mp3: We Have Band – Oh (zshare)
H Y P E -
P O W E R
ALBUM: Diplo – Decent Work For Decent Pay: Selected Works Vol. 1
words: Jamie Milton
originally scribed for gigwise.com
Remixes don’t float everybody’s boat. But Diplo, who specialises in such, has changed the way most of us tackle them, solely because he doesn’t murder the original with pointless repetition. Unaware of the name? Look upon hypemachine or another blog-centric site and you’ll see his name scattered across the page. As I type, he’s at the #2 ‘hottest track’ spot. Wes Pentz makes heads turn. He changes our perspectives on some of the most infectious, durable tracks of the 21st century and occasionally, he excels on the original.
But then again, remixes are rarely, and only in Diplo’s case are they sometimes, better than the original. Most of his work does require some extra incentive to go back to. But, opinions on remixes are subjective and if their popularity on the blogosphere is indicative of anything, they’re doing well. Takes on Spank Rock’s ‘Put That Pussy On Me’ and CSS’s ‘Let’s M
ake Love…’ deserve the most credit. In these cases, Pentz samples the finer elements of the original and combines them with newly-introduced elements that his wide portfolio of instruments and gadgets can provide. For example, Lovefoxxx’s charming, almost-erotic vocals take centre stage in the latter of our examples, with Diplo surrounding it all with squeaky-pop beats and start-stop rhythms. This is when remixes go well. If you’re thinking of delving into the more-difficult-than-you’d-imagine world of re-working hits, come to Diplo for advice before you do anything.
Pentz’s very own work also features occasionally on ‘Decent Work For Decent Pay.’ But at no time does it warrant as much of your time as the remixes. And that leads us onto the next point that perhaps, Diplo’s success stems from the fact that he rarely touches on anything other than big names. M.I.A’s ‘Paper Planes’, Peter Bjorn & John’s ‘Young Folks’ and other such hits with a “cult status” feature on the album/compilation. Without subtracting any credit from his work, Diplo might not have gained the reputation he has now without working with such credible artists with such already-established popularity. Just a thought…
Let’s wait for Diplo’s follow-up to 2004’s ‘Florida’ until we can decide whether he’s a 21st century genius or just a clever chap. For now, this record can be held in high regard for summertime parties, but nothing more.
6.0
mp3: Spank Rock – Put That Pussy On Me [Diplo Tonite Remix] (zshare)
[Buy 'Decent Work for Decent Pay: Collected Works Vol.1']
“maddening backing vocals alongside jazz-hands piano, without the showing off”
ALBUM: Fireworks Night – A Mirror, A Ghost
words: Jamie Milton
originally scribed for gigwise
It’s awfully difficult to gain a valid judgement on an album that sweeps you so far away from reality from the moment you vulnerably give it access to your eardrums. Old-fashioned but true to its gorgeously arranged, hand-made packaging, ‘A Mirror, A Ghost’ sees Fireworks Night becoming an authentic act, full of surprises for those who thought they had them all figured out, and with enough heartbreak in their words to allow you to shed an unseen tear in privacy.
But it’s even more difficult to judge where the album will take you next once you’ve been willingly swept away. Song-by-song, it mischievously interchanges between a waltzy tone of cool (‘The Shiver In Your Bones’) to a shockingly blue blend of sentiment and disappointment (‘Down To The Lake’). This is the case musically. A careful look-round and assessment will flip-side that entirely, with the latter becoming a gentle tribute of affection (the words “you are my favourite thing” glow in their simplicity) whereas the aforementioned dives into a nasty story of stubborness to falling into the welcome arms of love; “if it’s love, it’s a sham” declares James Lesslie like he’s heard the three magic words on a thousand occasions only to be misfortuned time and time again. And this plays perfectly as a contrast to the bulky blasts of passion from some maddening backing vocals alongside jazz-hands piano, without the showing off.
It feels as if there’s a definite change in attitude as the record progresses from its bed-ridden state of depression during the opening. The subject of love is dealt with differently each time, with ‘You, Holding’ suggesting a lucky jolt in a seeked bond; “how do I wait, so long?” is the echoeing phrase as a previously messy musical affair, keeping in line with Lesslie’s tale of indecision, suddenly sounds like it has a direction. A more melancholic ‘The Fire’ stifles away from the dominant subject before the previously cited ‘Down To The Lake’, as delicately as it can, proposes to a potential lover, “i could fill your glass, or you could fill mine” – this being the perfect example of traditional ideas being merged together by one that’s been at the centre of poetry and literature since planet Earth first picked up a writing instrument.
Words can be as beautiful and eloquent as they want anywhere on ‘A Mirror, A Ghost’, but they simply wouldn’t move us in the way that the closing number does. ‘Echo’s Swing’ plays us a familarly negative piano melody as strings seep in an out of the gaps in the background. As it happens, the lyrics are equally as heartrending, Lesslie’s smoothly-delivered narration quipping; “I am dancing with ghosts, of people I love”. Anticlimax it is not, and it summarises entirely what this record stood for and what it set out to do.
At times it makes you feel queasy with excitement, other times dissimilarly battering away at you with truly upsetting stories hidden away behind the equally diverse musical attitude. And it becomes fascinating that an album verging so nearly on being dated in terms of voice, can make you feel so different from the moment you’re swept away.
8.2
PLAY: Fireworks Night – The Fire
[Buy 'A Mirror, A Ghost']
MFM @ HYPEM
