Bon Iver - For Emma [4AD single]

Despite the ubiquity of ‘Skinny Love’ earlier in the year, ‘For Emma’ – the half-title track of Bon Iver’s debut album – is actually the first official single to be released by the band. Not only does it provide fitting accompaniment to their first proper headline tour this side of the Atlantic, but such was the consistent brilliance of For Emma, Forever Ago, it is actually quite refreshing to take one of its many standout songs on its own and really give it a listen.

Despite the pervading misery of the messy break-up lyrics, it is actually one of Justin Vernon’s more positive songs, musically speaking. The trademark aching vocal is set against rhythmic acoustic guitar, with the opening horn section as warm and comforting as a Hovis advert. In contrast to the gentle melancholy of the music, the somewhat difficult to decipher lyrics are filled with tension and resentment directed towards the eponymous ex: “Go find yourself another lover…to string along”, sings Vernon, before launching into perhaps his most memorable chorus. Another delightful instrumental positively blooming with brass and slide guitar and the fleeting moment of a song disappears from whence it came.

The B-side comes in the form of ‘Wisconsin’, perhaps a paen to the secluded cabin in which the album was written. A more subdued, hymn-like affair, Vernon’s striking vocal is left to hang above the minimal atmospheric backing. In fact, it sounds more like it was recorded under water than its origins in the snowy wilderness. Recorded as part of the For Emma, Forever Ago sessions, it is no surprise that the song gives off the same air of gloomy despair as the rest of the band’s work: “That was Wisconsin, that was yesterday / Now I have nothing that I can keep / Cos any place I go I take another place with me”. It is undoubtedly a song that could feature on any album of worth, including For Emma, Forever Ago.

Just as the appearance of ‘Skinny Love’ and Vernon’s show-stealing Later… solo performance announced the arrival of Bon Iver’s falsetto Americana earlier in this most British of summers, so ‘For Emma’ serves as a timely reminder that there are a couple more seasons left for their music to soundtrack. One of the standout tracks on a memorable album, few finer songs will be heard this year.

*****

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.

Calexico - Carried to Dust [City Slang album]

For some it was on Hot Rail (2000) that John Convertino and Joey Burns’ Tex-Mex Americana vision reached its peak. Their, well, “Cal-exican” sound felt at once warm and familiar to fans of alt-country and Americana (and before that the likes of Love) but at the same time completely unique, with mariachi story-telling on tracks like ‘Ballad of Cable Hogue’ and ‘Service and Repair’ alongside brass-laden instrumentals fitting together as perfectly as nachos and guacamole. For many others it was 2003’s well-regarded follow up Feast of Wire, but either way, there have undoubtedly been patches of near-greatness for the Tucson duo and their many contributing friends throughout their 12 years. The decision to move in a more mainstream, brass-less, instrumental-less direction on 2006’s Garden Ruin, though, didn’t really reach the heights that might have been expected of it. So (if bands like Calexico actually worry about such things) sixth album Carried To Dust could be something of a pivotal release: returning to their desert roots (as the album’s title may imply) or carrying on down the shiny path to a potentially wider audience.

With that in mind, the opening ‘Victor Jara’s Hands’ seems like a statement of intent, containing each of the elements that first set the band apart from their contemporaries, from jubilant brass, to Spanish vocals, to the Latin American subject matter. It’s a bubbly start and has all the hallmarks of a live favourite, but for some reason there’s something that, at least at first, just doesn’t sit quite right about this re-introduction to the sounds of the dusty West – it ’s almost as if the band might be trying too hard to re-capture former glories. The hushed ‘Two Silver Trees’ is definitely heading in the right direction thanks to a dream-like chorus, but it still doesn’t quite excite as much as it could.

It takes until the gorgeous waltz ‘The News About William’, that builds from rattling drums and delicate strings to the closing soaring vocals, that Carried To Dust really settles into its groove. And from here it is some groove. The brief instrumental ‘Sarabande in Pencil Form’ is a strangely settling segue into ‘Writer’s Minor Holiday’ and ‘Man Made Lake’, songs that certainly confirm the growing suspicion: Calexico are back on form. In a big way. The road-trip rhythms, backing “ooohs” and “aaahs” and lyrics about “my Irish whiskey glass” of the former track, conjure up lofty literary allusions of a hard-drinking Kerouac or Bukowski, while the screeching guitars and dramatic tones of the latter picks up where ‘The News About William’ left off, showcasing the more impressive end of Joey Burns’ range compared with the whispered gruffness elsewhere.

Thankfully, the standard far from drops after this auspicious couplet and there are more and more signposts to the fact that this is Calexico on top of their game. The Latin sounds of the bouncy duet ‘Inspiracion’ provide a convenient time to practice your conversational Spanish, and this along with the likes of ‘House of Valparaiso’ (featuring old friend Iron &Wine’s Sam Beam) and the instrumental ‘El Gatillo (Trigger Revisited)’ recalls the finer mariachi moments of Calexico’s back catalogue. For the latter this is literally the case, it being a re-imagining of the Feast of Wire track ‘The Trigger’, but the initial concerns about the opening track being an attempt to recapture something lost are proven totally unfounded with each passing song. And in contrast to the it is perhaps the aching ballad ‘The Slowness’, steeped in pedal steel and lovely boy-girl harmonies is perhaps the most enrapturing moment, providing the soft centre to the album.

At 15 tracks Carried To Dust is a relatively long album (though not particularly by Calexican standards), but such is the consistency and vibrancy of almost every one of them that it seems to fly by, right up to the three suitably delightful compositions that wrap it up: a third and equally satisfying instrumental, ‘Falling From Sleeves’, the broody ‘Red Blooms’, and another triumphant collaboration, ‘Contention City’ with Tortoise’s Doug McCombs. Along with the other four fifths of the record, these tracks are filled with a whole range of textures – layers that get deeper and richer with every listen. To return to the original suggestion, it seems that rather than revert back entirely to their roots or continue down the road on which Garden Ruin seemed to be headed, Calexico have taken an entirely preferable route. For throughout the album the band perfectly bridge the gap between their unique Tex-Mex heritage and a more rounded sound.

If you were being overly critical you could say it is perhaps a little “lite” in a few places and lacks some of the menace of earlier works, but Calexico’s sixth long player is a real triumph, and at least as good as Feast of Wire, Hot Rail or anything they have put their name to thus far. The best thing is, the way it all clicks in to gear here makes for great excitement about Convertino and Burns’ future work – something you probably couldn’t have said if they had made a Garden Ruin Part 2. As it is, with Carried to Dust Calexico have hit the pinata squarely on the nose, and we are the lucky ones left to reap the candy they have left scattered beneath.

****

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.

Conor Oberst - Souled Out!!! [Wichita Single]

So 13 years since his last solo album (released when he was still just 15), Conor Oberst has decided to freshen things up a little, give Bright Eyes a bit of a breather and go back to basics with his fourth solo effort overall, Conor Oberst. Maybe he just felt he needed some Conor time. Whatever the reasons behind the return to singledom, thankfully (or not, depending on your point of view) very little seems to have altered musically in this new eponymous direction, with much of Conor Oberst – not least single ‘Souled Out!!!’ – continuing in a the same more polished vein as 2007’s Cassadaga and before that ‘I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning’.

On the evidence of ‘Souled Out!!!’ it does seem that being freed of the Bright Eyes moniker has left Oberst in a particularly relaxed frame of mind. Virtually everything about this free spirited single, from the carefree pun of the exclamatory title, to the regular background chatter and descent into laughter mid-verse, has a throwaway air to it. Fairly non-sensical lyrics about things like flying “to the moon in a soda can” fill the verses, while the euphoric chorus announces that “You won’t be getting in” because – there’s that pun again – it’s all “souled out in heaven”. Despite this un happy conclusion, Conor et al certainly sound like they are having fun and it all adds up to a breezy country rock sing-along that is by no means Oberst’s finest hour, but remains a perfectly agreeable listen.

There is actually something surprisingly Oasis-like about ‘Souled Out!!!’, with both the simple scale of the opening guitar solo and the chorus backing vocals sounding rather Noel-esque (not to mention the soul-related pun). If the Gallaghers had been more into the Stones than the Beatles and just spent the summer listening to Exile on Main Street, they might have come up with something bit like this. Taking on board this comparison, the ultra cynical might even think that, taken in isolation, this song bears all the hallmarks of a 3 and a half minute, written for radio single, and that his forays with the Mystic Valley Band may even be Oberst’s way of cashing in without damaging the Bright Eyes brand. This would be way too harsh on man who has already enjoyed the top two singles on the Billboard chart, though, and one who has been turning out albums full of alt-country gems for over 15 years. Especially when you take into account that Conor Oberst is another such record.

In reality, ‘Souled Out!!!’ is just a slightly more radio-friendly than usual taster of another very good album from Conor Oberst. Whether you think the man’s “souled out” or not, you can call it what you want: Conor Oberst, Bright Eyes, it’s all pretty much business as usual.

(For fans of US pop culture it’s worth noting that, as well as download, the single is available as a 7” featuring an etching by Grace McSorely comic creator Kaite Murphy.)

***

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.

Fifteen To Hum - The Summer '08 Collection

Floating in on a wave of dubious punnery, here are fifteen tracks to brighten up your summer. A literal 'mix' of brand new bands, favourites from recent months and a couple of old nuggets polished up and thrown in for good measure. See what you reckon to these:

**UPDATE** - it seems Seeqpod has sadly passed on, so my playlist is no longer available... Boo.

SeeqPod - Playable Search

The Hold Steady - Stay Positive [Rough Trade album]

The Hold Steady became everyone’s favourite underdogs with breakthrough third album Boys and Girls in America – something that probably even surprised themselves. The Brooklynites’ blend of blue collar Springsteen-infused boisterous rock and Minneappolis-inspired lyrics about drinking and bars and girls and drinking...in bars...with girls didn’t seem to fit into the musical landscape of new rave, math rock and the rest. Nor did the band wear skinny jeans, have big hair...and they certainly weren’t young. But all this just makes the Hold Steady’s success all the more satisfying. Sounding like they were forged from the sticky, beer-stained tables of the dirtiest, smokiest underground bar this side of the Twin Cities, the five-piece proved that a collection of good rock songs can cut through any passing genre.

Following up the success of Boys and Girls in America was always going to be an intriguing challenge for The Hold Steady, and from the off it becomes apparent that they intend to take cue from their own name on the music front. Fans of the 2006 album, eagerly anticipating Stay Positive as a much-needed rock’n’roll fix, will be delighted by the surge of adrenalin of opening duo ‘Constructive Summer’ and come-back single ‘Sequestered in Memphis’. It’s hard to imagine a better re-introduction to the band than the gigantic shout-along choruses of these two anthems, with the former’s “our songs are sing-along songs” refrain laying down a telling marker. Setting pulses racing immediately, it’s clear that they haven’t forgotten what made a whole load of people fall in love with them.

Sadly, this exhilarating early pace is a little too much for the band to keep up with. The harpsichord of ‘One For The Cutters’ – while perhaps admirable for the fact it is something a bit different – is an unwanted addition to the song, and neither this nor the synth twiddling meets crunching guitars and dirty lyrics of ‘Navy Sheets’ really gel as songs. Elsewhere, the melodrama and religious allegory (recurring Christian imagery is noticeable throughout the album) of the epic ‘Two Crosses’ is a little overblown to take seriously – especially the jarring phrase “Baby let’s transverberate”.

In between, though, there are some great moments. ‘Lord I’m Discouraged’ is a morose ballad to rank alongside last album’s ‘First Night’, with a typical Craig Finn chorus telling of “excuses and half truths and fortified wine”, and even featuring a Slash circa-Use Your Illusion-style guitar solo guaranteed to get the air guitar fingers twitching. Both ‘Yeah Sapphire’ and ‘Magazines’ are pleasurable reimaginings of other beer-in-hand Hold Steady songs, with some sparkling bittersweet couplets: “One boy calls while the other texts, she’s got boys on board and boys on deck / Second dates and lipstick tissues, it all gets pretty heavy, girl I hope you don’t let it crush you”.

Something that certainly remains in delightful evidence throughout the album is Finn’s propensity for razor-sharp observations. The bespectacled frontman and songwriter still manages to work up some magical phraseology, with lines that are guaranteed to remind you of a night out you once had or a girl you once met, a nostalgic smile firmly planted on your face. The subject matter remains the same as ever, from barfly girls (“In bar light she looked alright, in daylight she looked desperate” – ‘Sequestered in Memphis’) to big drinking nights (“Me and my friends are like ‘double whiskey, coke, no ice’ / We drink along in double time; might drink too much, but we feel fine” - ‘Constructive Summer’), but there is a slightly resigned air of ageing rockers that pervades throughout, making it a more contemplative album than the balls-out Boys and Girls in America.

Title track ‘Stay Positive’ is typical of this more thoughtful approach. A sharp burst of vintage Hold Steady – all cutting lyrics and triumphant backing vocals – it serves as something of a premature requiem for the band, describing the pros and cons of their sudden fame and foreseeing its inevitable end when “the kids at the shows will have kids of their own, the sing-along songs will be our scriptures”. The overall message, though, is indicative of what makes The Hold Steady so appealing – simply “We gotta stay positive”.

Stay Positive is big, it’s brash, it’s unmistakeably The Hold Steady. It’s an entertaining listen with some real treats that, some beefier production and a few more instruments aside, complements but never rises above its predecessor. However, while not surpassing Boys and Girls in America, they still sound like the best bar-room band this side of the Mississippi river and provide the perfect soundtrack to a late night Jack Daniels session. It’s also quite likely to be the only album you’ll hear this year containing the words “sequestered” and “transverberate”. If you’re a fan, there’s more than enough in Stay Positive to keep you content, but if you didn’t like them before, you certainly won’t now.

***

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.

Born Ruffians Interview May '08 (and live at Amersham Arms)

Born Ruffians. The name does sum them up pretty well doesn’t it? For the Toronto band’s debut album, Red, Yellow and Blue, is one brimming with youthful rushes of adrenalin, precocious nursery rhyme-like ditties and, more importantly, effortlessly infectious tunes. Bloody loads of ‘em. One of Warp Records’ few forays away from their clean, clinical, electronic habitat into a more chaotic, guitar-based world, it is also an album that barely puts a foot wrong from beginning to end, joyous twisted pop gem following joyous twisted pop gem.

Sickeningly enough for those of us that have tried and failed at the whole ‘making music’ thing, it sounds like these three young men might have just stumbled upon this formula through sheer dumb luck, that they are simply having a good time making throwaway music without thinking too much about the fact that they manage to create perfect scruffy pop in the process. Mixing jerking guitar rhythms with clashing verses and choruses to concoct songs that sound like they shouldn’t work but fit together flawlessly; naïve-adolescent-meets-teen-slacker lines like “The sun is shining but we stay inside, oh but we go out at night” (‘I Need A Life’) or “I get told to never get old” (‘Little Garcon’); the feral yelps of the backing vocals; the simple pop melodies at the heart of the album: all these things hint that the band’s modus operandi may have been tripped over rather than sought out.

Desperate to get to the bottom of Born Ruffians’ success in making an album that had laid siege their ears, Rockfeedback went to meet singer/guitarist and alliterator’s dream Luke LaLonde and drummer Steve Hamelin at Warp’s offices in Kentish Town. In the course of discussing such topics as the stresses of recording and touring, incest with your sister, not knowing how to touch your girlfriend, who does Canada’s PR and the mating habits of a variety of species of animal, these affable young Canadians come across as a lot more earnest than expected, older than their years perhaps – at least as far as the way they feel about their music. What is certain is that this was no accident – they take this whole ‘making music’ thing very seriously.

The band was formed while the three were at high school, with the added connection of Mitch being Luke’s cousin. However, beginning by playing Strokes, Hives and Constantines covers there seemed to be no burning desire for fame or to just be in a band to be ‘cool’.

“I’d been playing guitar since I was 11 and I can’t remember ever greatly wanting to be in a band”, Luke says. “It wasn’t until we started playing together that I thought, ‘Hey this could be cool’, and it just started to be something that we did as a hobby. None of us were really into what a lot of other kids were doing at the time, we weren’t getting drunk every weekend and we didn’t play sports or anything so [being in a band] was just something to do I guess, and it turned into this obsession throughout high school and we took it really seriously. Steve did learn drums as the band was starting to play together, but yeah I’d been taking lessons since I was 11 and Mitch learned the bass in high school music class on my suggestion. I said to him ‘you should play bass in music class’ and he was like ‘OK’ – he just didn’t know better I guess.”

Like many musicians who have emerged in the years since and undoubtedly many more in the years to come, 2001, The Strokes and the release of Is This It was ‘year zero’ for Born Ruffians, and though certainly not a traditional garage rock band the influence of the New Yorkers can be felt on Red, Yellow & Blue. Steve emphasises how important the Strokes’ debut was for them in their formative years, coming out when the three were “just turning 15 or 16”, while Luke admits ”We probably did take some stuff from them. I mean, we don’t really try and sound like them, but just because we listened to that record so much at such a critical age it couldn’t not have an effect on our band. One thing we did take away from the Strokes was listening to their songs and then seeing them live – all their parts are ‘real’ parts that are the same every time and there’s no meandering solos. Those solos are guitar ‘parts’: it has a melody and a reason to it. Everything they did seemed to have a reason to it and there wasn’t any filler in their songs. So we definitely took that away: ‘Let’s make sure that every instrument is ‘doing’ something and cut the fat out of our songs.’”

As with The Strokes, where Julian Casablancas’ singing is often low in the mix, giving it virtually an equal billing with each of the other instruments at work, Luke’s vocals frequently do the same, and, rather than overpowering a song, a drum or guitar part regularly demands at least equal interest with the vocal melody. He is quick to point out, tongue firmly in cheek, that “I don’t think I take much vocally from Julian Casablancas, except maybe his cool swagger…”

There is no one clear influence on the band, though, who – if you really want to look for it – can be reminiscent variously of Animal Collective (‘Red, Yellow & Blue’), Vampire Weekend (‘Hummingbird’), Modest Mouse and even the likes of Devendra Banhart on quaint anti-folk ditty ‘Little Garçon’. In fact, the album is all over the place musically. Luke explains that this is probably down to the slight divergences in taste and personality of the band: “We all started to spread out and listen to more music after [2001] trying to find out what else is out there, what music had we missed out on in the 80s and the 70s and started to go back and find older stuff that was cool. And still we’re still finding new music all the time. We all share similar music tastes but we all went off in slightly different directions and maybe one person’s more into one thing at the time. That added to the sound and diversity of the record.”

There can be little denying that Born Ruffians have a pop heart, with songs like ‘Hummingbird’, ‘Badonkadonkey’ and ‘I Need A Life’ among the catchiest you’ll hear this year. However, their real success is in keeping the edges rough – the clumsily metaphorical room of choice is definitely the garage rather than the lounge. This is largely due to the band themselves and the songs that they have written, but it is also thanks to Rusty Santos (producer of Animal Collective’s Sung Tongs) who lent his knob-twiddling talents to the album. “Yeah there’s definitely pop songs on the album,” acknowledges Steve, “but he [Santos] does some interesting things with the production, with reverbs and mic placements.” Despite being a three-piece, Red, Yellow & Blue generally sounds like there is one big party going on in the studio and at times you can’t believe that Luke, Steve and Mitch can be making this racket on their own. “Some songs he recorded with just two sets of mics and built it from there, and, for example, we positioned ourselves in different spots around the room one instrument at a time, so it came out like there’s a six-piece band or something though it’s just us. So there’s things like that he added that were a step up from our EP [self-titled in the US, released in the UK last year as ‘This Sentence Will Ruin/Save Your Life’], but he’s not a ‘slick’ producer and he wasn’t making sure everything was technically correct with a click track or anything so I guess that’s what keeps the ‘garagey’ sound.”

Talking of animals… whatever people say about the impact of global warming, deforestation and other nasty human endeavours, they are at least thriving in the music industry. And we’re not talking ‘House Of The Rising Sun’. The zoology of the musical cutting edge includes the aforementioned Collective and its own Panda Bear, Grizzly Bear, Fleet Foxes, Band Of Horses, Sam Sparro, the list goes on (without even mentioning a certain band from Sheffield). And this is also something that ties Red, Yellow and Blue together: a bit of an animal fixation. A quick glance through the song titles alone reveals ‘Barnacle Goose’, ‘Hummingbird’, ‘Badonkadonkey’, ‘Red Elephant’ and ‘Foxes Mate For Life’. After being warned to “answer carefully” about this obsession by Steve, Luke [ahem] sheepishly admits:

“I guess it’s just because I have an interest in animal documentaries and stuff like that. There were a few songs that just had animal names in them and then there was a time where I think I was trying to get a reference into every song to just try and have a theme in these songs that had been written over such a long period of time. It’s kind of hard to link [the songs] together, so maybe it was a way to try and keep them cohesive as a marking of when they were written. Some of [the animal references] actually have a point, like ‘Red Elephant’ – that’s actually in the song and that metaphor is what the song is actually about – but then some of them were just given animal names for no good reason! It’s actually true that foxes mate for life, in most species anyway, there are one or two that don’t. There is a species of bird that does it too…something like the blue-breasted titty or red-breasted booby or something weird like that”, he adds with his own brand of Canada Dry humour.

If you were to do some market research on Born Ruffians and you got YouGov to ask a cross-section of the population to listen to their music and sum it up in no more than five words, I would like to think that at least 78.2% of those surveyed would say ‘fun’ in there somewhere. The songs just have a streak of youthful energy running through them, with the playful titles, erratic rhythms and ubiquitous shrieks and yells. It sounds like it must have been rather entertaining to record. Steve, however, tells another story:

“It was pretty stressful actually! We had 14 days for recording, but for some reason we decided to record the whole thing in seven and mix for seven. We did 14 tracks in total, so we were recording two tracks a day, which doesn’t sound like a lot but was pretty stressful! Things like the backing vocals, though, we had a pretty good time doing - lot’s of shouting and laughing, usually at my expense with me not hitting this one note 200 times.”

“Anytime we were all in a room together doing something it was fun”, Luke agrees, “but recording is funny because there’s a lot of waiting around watching Rusty turning knobs or doing something on a computer, and you end up just reading a lot and I just played the piano a whole lot. That’s my main memory of recording, just playing the piano in a big room for two weeks! But it was a great experience.”

However stressful the week of recording was, there can be no doubt that the music that emerged from it was in the main as joyous as it comes. But frivolity aside there is certainly something more cerebral about Born Ruffians than you might expect from band who has a song called ‘Badonkadonkey’ that for the most part consists of the repeated child-like line “I’ll put you in my pocket for when I get home”. Another song on Red, Yellow and Blue is named after cult satirical novelist Kurt Vonnegut, a man the band clearly admire: “It was written before he died so it wasn’t like a tribute song or anything”, says Luke, “but I quoted [Vonnegut’s 1963 work] Cat’s Cradle and didn’t change it all so I just wanted to credit him in some way. It’s one of my favourite books.” This combination of playfulness and seriousness is probably one of the reasons that the band is so appealing. They have the scruffy, hip pop songs to satisfy the Skins crowd (a show they have already appeared on, that Steve calls “our first experience being in a ‘dramatic performance’… and probably our last” and that the band describe variously as “interesting”, “strange” and “weird”) but it is clear that this is backed up by a real industriousness towards their music. You are hearing this, too, both live and on record – though you might not be aware of it – and when they talk about the (now year-old to them) album it is clear that they are desperate to get it into people’s ears.

Born Ruffians have two more things going for them: they are a band from Toronto and they are band that is signed to Warp. The band clearly see the Warp signing as flattering, but deserved: “It’s a huge compliment”, beams Steve, “And especially as the guitar bands they have are so amazing, like Battles and Grizzly Bear, it’s crazy. It’s intimidating though, I feel like the kid brother sometimes, like they were just ‘sign one of those nee-ner nee-ner bands’. But I think they actually like us, they seem to.”

Being from Toronto, or Canada in general has never harmed a band, especially in the UK. From the outside it seems to be such a vibrant, downright ‘cool’ place to make music where surely everyone just hangs out with members of Broken Social Scene all day? “I think it is a great place to make music”, says Luke. “Sometimes, though, it’s hard to feel like a band from Toronto. Especially recently with so much travelling around, you start to feel like you don’t have a home! And when we were there we weren’t really part of a tight-knit scene, we have friends in bands but we kind of just do our own thing. Broken Social Scene are kind of a generation older than us and we don’t really know any of them unfortunately, but there are younger bands like Tokyo Police Club that we’re friends with and other bands that I don’t know at all, like Crystal Castles who apparently are doing really well over here. I didn’t even know they were from Toronto! But there is a lot of great music coming from Toronto and Canada in general. It’s funny on some people’s Myspaces or whatever they say ‘I like Canadian indie rock’ – I don’t know why you’d ever limit yourself to that! I don’t know how to view it, maybe it’s just seen by some people as a really ‘cool’ scene to be into, like maybe Canadian music is cool right now or something.”

Steve offers some thoughts on the prevalence of successful Canadian indie bands. “We do have music programmes in high school and the government subsidises music so maybe that has something to do with it. And we have healthcare. So maybe that allows people to just lay around.”

“It’s a little less stressful to be a musician in Canada!” agrees Luke. “I always wonder if it’s a social thing too: there’s just more people bumming around just playing music...

However laid back the Canadians are, touring – as well as recording – has its unglamorous side, as Luke explains. “There’s definitely fun parts and there’s definitely hard work. We’ve been touring with really good bands [currently fellow Canadians, the also animal-monikered Caribou] so we’ve been pretty lucky in that way cos they’re really nice guys.”

“The hardest part is you’ll get home and home will feel so good and you’ll just get used to ‘I’m home’”, Steve continues, “and then you’re like ‘Oh I leave tomorrow for 5 weeks’. And you’ll just get used to being on tour and then it’s time to go home. Every time I go home my reunion with my girlfriend is kinda awkward. It’s like I forget how to interact. It’s pretty abnormal to leave someone for 6 weeks, come home for a week and then leave for another 6 weeks. But being in a band with a bunch of guys or girls or whatever, there’s certainly nothing to complain about!”

“You do find it’s weird when you get back to your girlfriend or whatever. You’re like ‘Am I allowed to touch you?’ – you feel nervous again...” agrees Luke regarding the strain prolonged travel can have on a relationship:

“I slept with my brother for 6 weeks on the last tour, so I wasn’t allowed to touch then” responds Steve. “For so many reasons.”

Still, playing live remains an integral part of the Born Ruffians experience. A show at the Amersham Arms the night after our interview highlights all the above. Luke is right – they don’t waste anything in their songs. Each one is related with just the same organised chaos as on record, while anxiousness over guitar troubles indicates a real concern for crowd pleasing rather than carefree abandon. That’s not to say it does not look like fun on stage, with Mitch in particular enjoying his role as bass player/a capella shouter. It does seem a bit more fun for the hollering rhythm section than it does for Luke, who clearly relishes the challenge of writing songs as much as the pressure of playing live. “There’s definitely different perks to different bits [of being in a band] and each one feels a bit different. Live I’ve actually been learning to have more fun recently actually. I feel like this past tour is the most fun I’ve actually had playing shows. Maybe because the writing hasn’t been going so well! It’s definitely really fun when you’re writing and you play a new song for the first time – that’s one of the best feelings you can have.”

Touring and recording stresses aside, Born Ruffians do show glimpses of the riotous fun that comes across so strongly on record and during the live show and the interview descends into a comical discussion of incest and racism. The opening track to Red, Yellow and Blue is actually a typically child-like rumination on what colours they would choose for the national flag if they started their own country, settling on the eponymous primary colours. But what of this brave new world of Born Ruffians Land – what would that be like? And more importantly, what would the immigration policy be?

Luke: “Definitely only incestual reproduction. No outsiders allowed unless we could brainwash them. It would be like a cult.”

Steve: [clearly worried by this] “Who does it start with, if it’s incestual?”

Luke: “Me.”

Steve: “So it’s just you and your sister?”

Luke: “No...”

Steve: “But you said it’s incestual relations”

Luke: “I meant, like, within the colony. I didn’t mean incestual literally, incestual within the group... and me and my sister.”

Steve: “I might have to get my own country. I won’t be racist or xenophobic. Anyone can come in! And no incest. I’ll call it Canada. Although we [Canada] are racist... everybody’s racist somewhere.”

Luke: “Haha. ‘Everybody’s racist somewhere.’”

Steve: “No... We’re not, like, ‘We’re Canada, we love everybody’, but people think we are.”

Rockfeedback: “Canada does get a good press.”

Steve: “We do get a good press. We have good PR!”

Rockfeedback: “Who is doing your PR?”

Steve: “Warp Records.”


First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.


Listen to two of the highlights from Red, Yellow and Blue here:

Kid Harpoon - The Second EP [Young Turks EP]

Anyone who has had the pleasure of seeing a Kid Harpoon live show will testify that there is, indeed, enough energy coming off stage to probably take down a small whale. Thankfully, Tom Hull has directed this vigour into far less morally dubious pursuits with the release of his – you guessed it – second EP, ‘The Second EP’. While much of his first EP retained a demo feel to it, this time things sound more polished. But the six tracks each keep alive both the rawness of the first collection and the vibrancy of a Kid Harpoon live performance.

The drama that was in evidence on ‘The First EP’ is immediately apparent here with opener ‘Riverside’, previously released as Kid Harpoon’s first single. Verging on the epic it is dripping with imagery. Wailing guitar and Hull’s voice – alternating from whisper to snarl – cuts through the Waterboys-esque Celtic strumming, and, in fact, the ceaseless energy of ‘Riverside’ puts one in mind of Mike Scott’s band’s ‘Fisherman’s Blues’. Either way, it’s an auspicious, energetic start to the EP, with allegorical lyrics and some great vocal work.

‘Fathers And Sons’ continues the pastoral imagery of ‘Riverside’: “Baby my baby, we’ll run to an island, I’ll catch us some dinner, buy you a diamond. Playing my music with you right beside me, I will be happy there” and similarly to ‘Riverside’ is built around the combination of snare drum, strummed acoustic and robust lead guitar. ‘Suicide Grandad?’ is the strangely cheerful story of an old man contemplating a “stylish” suicide, to leave a world that holds no more for him “to the children”. Brimming with artful couplets like “we can have a laugh or be the joke” it is the perfect example of Hull’s thoughtful approach to music-making. The song’s bittersweet outlook mirrors piano-led fourth track ‘In The Dark’, which is for the most part rather gloomy, but offers that “in the dark” there is a “glimmer of hope”.

Her Body Sways is the lightest moment of the EP, preaching the preference for “birds” rather than “gunshots” in the air, and something upbeat is probably necessary for the EP not to slip into maudlin territory. Formed around a breezy piano solo and bustling rhythm section it is simply a well-executed pretty little love song. Its counterpoint is final track ‘Lay Of The Land’: a sparse contemplative ballad (this time concentrating on the negative side of romance) in the same vein as first EP highlight ‘As It Always Was’ that showcases the delicate side of Hull’s song writing as well as the quality of his voice.

With his second EP Kid Harpoon builds on the successes of the first and continues to establish his own ground among the swathe of London-based young men forging paths around him, including label-mate Jack Peñate, Jamie T and Lightspeed Champion. The songs on ‘Second EP’ are earnest, lyrically astute and often just great, and if the forthcoming debut album matches the twelve songs already released by Kid Harpoon it should certainly be one to watch out for.

****

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.

Richmond Fontaine live @ The Luminaire (11/10/07), Willy Vlautin & Paul Brainard live @ the Boogaloo (01/04/08)

Ah America. For many across the world, not least those trudging through their 9-5 lives in this grey country, there is little more romantic than the endless mystery and possibilities of the 50 United States: the America of Whitman, Twain and Kerouac; the America of Richmond Fontaine. For bands don’t come much more ‘American[a]’ than Willy Vlautin’s now Portland-based band, with Nevada and the surrounding states soaked like bourbon into the fabric of the band and barely a song passing without a street, town, city or state name-checked – most notably Vlautin’s native Reno. Something Britons also love is a loser, and Vlautin’s songs and stories have got them by the casino-full. A morbid fascination with the fucked-up individual is a national obsession (not least in music where the rock’n’roll star on a downward spiral is perhaps the pinnacle of achievement) and it seems to be one that this particular American shares.

These traits might explain why, despite producing some of the finest Americana albums of their generation, the band has enjoyed more success on our shores than back home. In any case, over the course of two very different shows Willy Vlautin and his associates transplant Nevada onto two North London venues, demonstrating just why they deserve be revered on both sides of the Atlantic. The grim urban strait that is the Kilburn High Road and the leafy suburbia of Highgate are pretty far removed from the dusty western states of America, but for one night each side of the London winter The Luminaire and The Boogaloo are transformed into the sun-baked blue collar America inhabited by the motley collection of down and outs that wander nomadically through Vlautin’s songs.

* * *

Almost all Richmond Fontaine songs are dark ones, telling the stories of people struggling to deal with what life throws at them, something the songwriter himself touches upon: “Half the songs depress me...I tried to be that guy... but I’m kinda glad I’m not” Vlautin smiles wryly between songs. But with the full Richmond Fontaine line-up on top form and playing loud at this October show at The Luminaire, the energy dripping from the band on the big country rock numbers (and the beauty of the gentle ones) means that this proves to be anything but a depressing performance.

Kicking off with the majestic instrumental ‘El Tiradito’ from latest album ‘Thirteen Cities’ (2007), the band rattle through a set showcasing both the talent of the band and the breadth of top-notch material a 14 year career has accumulated (this the first night of a two-show residency during which only three songs are played twice). Crowd favourites come in the form of trio ‘Barely Losing’, ‘The Longer You Wait’ and the title track from pivotal album ‘Post To Wire’ (2005), from which a fair bit of the set is taken. The reverential audience are treated to songs from across the band’s canon, though, including several from ‘Thirteen Cities’ (including an enthralling performance of ‘$87 And A Guilty Conscience That Gets Worse The Longer I Go’) an album that, despite the longevity of their career and relative struggle for acclaim, suggests Richmond Fontaine still have a lot left in their tank.

Vlautin himself is every inch the alt-country front man, coming across as an amalgamation of Springsteen and Jeff Tweedy in his plaid shirt. But while the band is undoubtedly built around its singer such is his presence as songwriter, frontman and spokesman, live they are at least the sum of their parts. Each member of the band more than pulls their weight, but it is perhaps Paul Brainard who contributes most to the success of the five-piece’s live success. His alternate pedal steel and trumpet work lift the already engagingly performed songs onto a higher plain. It is no exaggeration to say that every single one is played with the utmost skill and verve, and, despite the all-pervading gloom of the songs’ subject matter, witnessing this band on top of their game is as much fun as it looks to be on stage.

It is just surprising, and a little disappointing, when the door of the venue leads back out to the night air of Kilburn rather than the casino joints of Reno.

* * *

Fast-forward some five months and Vlautin is back in North London, Paul Brainard in tow, this time promoting his second novel ‘The Northline’ with a reading and low-key acoustic set, the Boogaloo’s “The South shall rise again” Elvis poster providing a suitable backdrop to the duo.

Those familiar with the proselike, storytelling nature of Richmond Fontaine’s songs won’t be surprised that Vlautin has become a published author and it is by no means a generalisation to say his novels are an extension of his songs. The spoken word vignettes on Fontaine albums, the poignant snapshots of the lost souls of Reno and Vegas contained within his songs are simply given more room to breathe, the snapshots turned into half full old photograph albums. This is something endearingly proven by Vlautin’s reading of a particularly bleak chapter from ‘The Northline’, relating each line as if it is a line of a song – something it actually becomes when Brainard joins in with some atmospheric pedal steel.

Following this enlightening and personal glimpse into a man and his writing (something that at least equals his music), there is time for almost an hour’s worth of Fontaine songs. Hampered by a broken wrist suffered when his horse (“he’s a moody guy just like me”) bucked him on his last ride before going on tour, Vlautin is confined to playing only fingerpicked songs from the back catalogue, but in this intimate setting this is far from a short-coming as favourites from ‘Post To Wire’, ‘The Fitzgerald’, ‘Thirteen Cities’ and the instrumental soundtrack written to accompany ‘The Northline’ are beautifully played. Brainard’s pedal steel and trumpet again add exquisite melancholy to each one and songs like ‘Two Broken Hearts’, ‘Barely Losing’ and ‘Capsized’ are at their most affecting reduced to their bare bones like this.

As well as the reading and performance, we are treated to between-song insights into Vlautin (and Brainard’s) own life, like the story behind ‘The Fitzgerald’s ‘Exit 194B’, written about when Vlautin got drunk and listened to Merle Haggard records with his two housemates for a few years: ”Until we all started to fall apart. One of us fell a little harder than the others and so I wrote this song for him”. He also explains about Allison Johnson, the main character in ‘The Northline’ and the eponymous heroine of a song of her own, who is based on his grandmother, his mother and himself (“My grandmother had a hard time going out in public situations...my mother got lucky and found a good man...and I just used to dream and get drunk a lot”). You begin to realise that the characters that fill his songs and stories, the ones that appeal so idealistically (albeit perversely so) from across the Atlantic are the ones that have filled Vlautin’s own life. It is this honesty that gives the soul and emotion to his writing and makes the performance all the more affecting.

Following the closing number there is the chance for the crowd to chat to Vlautin and Brainard and maybe get a copy of ‘The Northline’ signed. There is also the opportunity to reflect on this evening and the one in The Luminaire several months ago. The two nights are very different, the first showcasing the energy and atmosphere created by a band at the top of its form, the second the contemplative songcraft of Willy Vlautin, and each one many more things in between. Above it all they both emphasise how and why Richmond Fontaine are a band to be treasured.

*****

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.

*Thanks to Tom from rockfeedback for sorting out the tickets for the Luminaire show and waiting 5 months for me to review it...

Cass Mccombs - That's That [Domino single]

Cass McCombs’ last offering (following his debut A) PREfection is one of those lost gems of records I had almost forgotten about, and it is with a mixture of reminiscence and intrigue that new material from the enigmatic Californian is greeted. Despite some six years of mutterings of big things, he has as yet failed to make the waves for which he initially seemed destined, critically as well as commercially. Three years have now passed since PREfection’s release and the first taster from new Dropping The Writ album finally arrives in the form of blog favourite ‘That’s That’.

The song is a story about a runaway girl, suggested rather than told through minimalist brushstrokes. McCombs is a songwriter whose often obtuse, but generally poetic, lyrics beg as much attention as the music itself. ‘That’s That’ is no different and includes some perfectly aching poignancy with the refrain “playthings are laid to waste, thrown out to make better space”. Elsewhere the understated words delicately tell of mundanity and desperation: “So I got a job cleaning toilets at a nightclub in Baltimore”.

Musically things seem to have shifted a little in the three years since PREfection, and this first pointer from Dropping the Writ could loosely be described as 80s-sounding Americana, though it is quite singular in sound. McCombs has spent much of his musical life travelling from place to place and this record feels just as nomadic. It is rambling yet purposeful, held together and driven on by the rhythm of the stand out bassline, as regular as an engine turning over. The voice delivering the lines, too, is suitably yearning and fragile and the air of resignation of McCombs delivery of the gorgeous line “I guess that’s that, almost shorter than a dream and definitely of less note” perfectly distils the essence of the song.

‘That’s That’ is further proof of McCombs songwriting prowess, which, combining simplicity with opaqueness, is open to endless deconstruction. If this is anything to go by, then Dropping the Writ will demand some serious listening time.

****

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.

The Whitest Boy Alive - Dreams [Universal album]

That Erland Øye does come up with some inventive monikers for his musical endeavours. First there was his Kings of Convenience, then album titles Quiet is the New Loud and Riot on an Empty Street, and now his latest venture - The Whitest Boy Alive. In fact, it comes as something of a disappointment that the debut album from the Norwegian four-piece is simply entitled Dreams. He was obviously half asleep when he came up with that one… (ahem).

It is difficult, at first at least, not to judge TWBA’s work in the context of Øye’s other band, especially when his instantly recognisable lilting Scandinavian tones seep from the speakers like an old friend. The subject matter, too, remains consistent and the quotidian stories of a lonely boy’s loves and losses that defined Kings of Convenience are still very much in evidence. However, whereas the songs recorded with Eirik Glambek were generally of the gentle acoustic lullaby variety, this is, at the very least, a more grown-up sounding record.

The ten songs are all very much plugged in, but remain suitably laid-back and for the most part are left sparse and roomy. It is telling that TWBA started off as an ‘electronic’ project, because what is left is essentially an album of jazzy electronica without the electronica. The vast expanses within the songs on ‘Dreams’ are filled with meandering bass lines and guitar parts that verge from the easy listening to at times the downright funky (such as the snare-filled ‘Fireworks). The tracks are certainly not in a rush to go anywhere and at times this means they can drag on a little with extended instrumentals that go round in circles. Sometimes this works beautifully, like on the husky ‘Borders’ for example, but at one’s most cynical, the line “Giving me a reason to stay constantly ignored” in ‘Don’t Give Up’ can be a little close to home.

All in all, ‘Dreams’ is a very well put together album that works delightfully as a sedentary soundtrack to whatever else you might be doing at the time. The elongated musical structure also allows the quirky, witty lyrics to breathe, develop and grab more of the attention than you might expect and this often proves a highlight. There is little wrong with the album, but it is so laid-back it is difficult to see who (apart from fans of Kings of Convenience and Øye’s other enterprises) going to want to really get stuck into it and give it the repeat listens that it probably needs to be truly appreciated.

Oh, and listen out for the backing vocals that turn up half way through ‘Don’t Give Up’ that sound just like Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords has lent a helping hand in the studio.

***

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.

Video Of The Month #3 Vampire Weekend - A Punk [dir Hammer & Tongs]

Not only are Vampire Weekend officially 'the next big thing', they have also - with the help of Hammer & Tongs - made a hilarious Monkees-for-the-21st Century video to new single 'A Punk'. Hope you like drums...

Kap Bambino - Zero Life, Night Vision [Alt>Delete album]

Having soundtracked the infancy of ‘New Rave’ back in the dayglo summer of 2006, Alt Delete unleashes a salvo of electro-punk in the form of the debut long player from Bordeaux’s Kap Bambino. Big things often come in small packages and this duo, comprising Orion Bouvier (bleeps, blips and noise) and Caroline Martial (wailing banshee), manage to make one hell of a racket. The two do their darnedest to replicate on record their apparently incendiary live performances and the result is both pulsating and aggressive.

In this instance the ‘punk’ of their electro-punk comes not from guitars but from the same DIY ethos of early ‘New Rave’ and from the short bursts of furious energy that make up this album. Like the soundtrack to a dystopian world, ‘Zero Life, Night Vision’ is more (or less, depending on which way you look at it) than a collection of ‘songs’, in fact resembling a continual aural assault made up of 12 intense blitzkrieg attacks. Titles like ‘Kaoskillers’ and ‘More Machine’ hint at the band’s future-shock sound, which has a blueprint loosely thus: Bouvier’s bleepy synth sounds over fuzzy noise, with vocodered shrieking vocals courtesy of Martial.

With the origins of ‘New Rave’ buried under Mercury Prizes and Top Shop fashion it is refreshing to hear a band actually indulging in proper ‘old rave’ sounds and ‘Zero Life, Night Vision’ works from a formula that is instantly exciting thanks to its exhilarating aggression. After repeated listens, though, it can seem just that: formulaic.

First published in Notion magazine.

Supergrass - Diamond Hoo Ha Man [Parlophone single]

Along with fellow Oxfordians Radiohead, Supergrass are one of the few originators of Britpop to still be clinging on to much credibility – and it just so happens that they were one of the best. But somehow there is still the pervading sense that despite littering the charts with a succession of fantastic pop songs, Gaz et al have never quite surmounted the peaks that seemed within their reach.

In some ways, then, this White Stripes-flavoured bluesy rocker seems a fresh attempt to scythe through the repetitive and ever-multiplying chaff of current one-album, chart-bothering British indie (most of whom would sell their Lyle & Scott branded souls for a ‘Lenny’, ‘Caught by the Fuzz’ or ‘Mansize Rooster’). It does so, quite simply, by not sounding very British. The opening riff is almost identical to ‘Blue Orchid’, the slide guitar is reminiscent of a slightly slicker Gun Club and the integration of that most American of phrases “Bite me” adds to the all-round US garage rock feel of the track.

What is certainly true, though, is that after some 14 years Supergrass still know their way around a three and a half minute pop song. ‘Diamond Hoo Ha Man’ is another one that stands out on the radio, albeit thanks to a pretty straightforward Kings of Leon type formula: pounding drums, chunky guitars, aforementioned riff, speed up-slow down-speed up structure and some top-notch vocals.

It is a more than pleasant way to pass said 210 odd seconds and is nearly a very good return. But it just does sound a bit generic and lacks the Supergrass touch that (much like Super Furry Animals) normally makes their songs great. And it doesn’t help that it is actually ‘Blue Orchid’ that I have in my head long after listening to this track, rather than the work of the Hoo Ha Men. Still, decent enough, and an indication that there most probably is life in the old ‘grass yet.


***

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.

Gravenhurst - The Western Lands [Warp album]

As all us amateur cosmologists know, the Big Bang theory states that the universe originated from something somewhat smaller and has been expanding ever since. This same principle could apply just as well to Nick Talbot’s Gravenhurst. Having gone about things in a rather modest fashion in the early parts of a career that saw sparse folk records released on tiny indie label Silent Age (beginning with 2001’s debut ‘Internal Travels’), everything about Gravenhurst has grown outwards since – signing to Warp (the universe, too, becomes cooler as it expands), gaining more members and admirers, and intensifying the band’s sound considerably.

‘The Western Lands’ continues where 2005’s much-lauded ‘Fires In Distant Buildings’ left off, with broody, elongated ‘post-folk’ songs with more than a nod to shoegaze that somehow end up sounding like electronica without the electronics. The likes of ‘Trust’, ‘Hourglass’ and the closing ‘The Collector’ are perfect examples of this, while the gloriously epic instrumental title track leads the album into shimmering post-rock territory. The comparatively brief four minute ‘Hollow Men’ is probably the real highlight, though, with feedback and rocked out guitars providing a jagged contrast to Talbot’s trademark mournful voice and boasting a breakdown that sounds like ten jumbo jets taking off.

Talbot and Gravenhurst continue to make quite stunning records, utilising both song structure and instrumentation to achieve the ultimate atmospheric effect. Best listened to late at night while contemplating life by candlelight, ‘The Western Lands’ is a dark and intense record that at least matches its predecessor.


First published in Notion magazine.

The Fiery Furnaces - Widow City [Thrill Jockey album]

Possibly music’s most intriguing sibling collaboration, The Fiery Furnaces’ Matthew and Eleanor Friedberger continue their astonishing journey through the world of twisted pop with their sixth full-length release. The album’s opening opus ‘The Philadelphia Grand Jury’ acts like a mission statement, showcasing the fundamental elements of diversity and experimentation that have increasingly become the duo’s trademark. A carefully constructed mash-up, the song (and album) is a cut and paste musical collage with snippets of lyrics strewn over a variety of musical styles, from 70s pop to garage rock.

The expected is constantly twisted on ‘Widow City’ – when you think a song might be following a traditional structure, rhythm, melody even, either Matthew’s instrumentation or Eleanor’s intonation take it somewhere entirely different. This is more successful in some places than others, treading a fine line between the emotive and the unnecessary. Having succeeded with seven minutes of rhythmic variations on the first track, for example, a similar barrage on ‘Clear Signal From Cairo’ is just too much, and the whole album provides a lot to take. Once through the initial jolt of this constant assault, though, much of it is quite brilliant and staring you in the face are more catchy pop melodies than you might think.

If you like your ‘pop’ music challenging then ‘Widow City’ is definitely for you. The songs held within possess a great deal of depth, texture and interest. If, however, you prefer something a little more traditional and appreciate consistent song structure, you might want to give this one a miss.


First published in Notion magazine.

Simon Bookish - Trainwreck/Raincheck [Teeth Records album]

I can hardly ever remember my dreams. It’s kind of frustrating sometimes, but I’m resigned to the fact that that’s the way it’s meant to be, right? As a result of this, I am more than a little distrustful of Leo Chadburn and his alter ego Simon Bookish. For not only does he remember his dreams, but they also have a recurring motif (transport), and he remembers them so well that he has managed to re-create them in the form of ‘Trainwreck/Raincheck’, an album of avant-garde, mostly electronic, spoken word-littered soundscapes.

And when I say avant-garde, I mean avant-garde. I haven’t listened to such a dense and far-out album as this for a long time (not that I have really set out to). It is unsurprising that a classically trained composer, actor, performance artist, vocalist and remixer for hire and multi-instrumentalist, recently returned from touring with the National Theatre, who references Euripides and experimental French composer Erik Satie in his press release, has produced a challenging record, but any thoughts of a quirky Patrick Wolf-a-like are way off as far as ‘Trainwreck/Raincheck’ is concerned. It is, in fact, a barely quasi-pop experiment of startling content.

The artwork for the album, which sees Bookish dressed in futuristic pyjamas, high above a cartoon city dreaming of ships and aeroplanes is a successful depiction of how the album sounds, but is hugely more romantic than the clinical coldness of much of what is held inside. Beginning with future-experimental wobbly noises akin to the alarm system on the Starship Enterprise on ‘Theme (Mercator Projection)’ and moving swiftly into an electronic backing track that sounds like you have a crossed telephone line with a conversation between robot rats, it is an opinion polarizer from the outset. Many more will be put off the moment Bookish opens his mouth with the first stream-of-consciousness dream-tale of ‘Crab Lawn’. This sci-fi psycho-babble continues on the subsequent ‘Invasion’ and ‘Dwarf Documentary’ as his voice meanders through bizarre tales of the dreams he has had. It works adequately enough on the Philip K Dick-esque ‘Crab Lawn’, but the slightly fey, knowing tone of ‘Invasion’s “And so… It might have been Berlin I suppose” is rather off-putting.

The question with these spoken word compositions, is – eccentric experiment aside – whether the stories themselves are interesting, engaging or well written/delivered enough to make for appealing listening. The answer is probably a ‘no’. There are moments of wit, most notably when Bookish is explaining to Bush and Rumsfeld how ducks stand on one foot to avoid getting shit on both feet (‘A Deception (Municipal Mix)’) but rarely is there anything that begs for a repeat listen, a story to really enjoy. It is actually the ‘songs’ where Bookish moves away from the straightforward spoken word that are the most successful. The closing ‘Long Haul’ is sparse and calming, the drone-based ‘Arborescences’ is a triumph of bleakness (if something of an acquired taste…), while on ‘Interview’ he actually strings together something of a melody and his Bowie-esque intonations support what is closest to a traditional song structure. A record like this neither warrants nor benefits from comparisons, though. At a push you could see Bookish as a kind of future-Beefheart or a precocious English David Byrne, but these associations are as misleading as they are useful.

‘Trainwreck/Raincheck’ is a success in that as intended it sounds totally otherworldly and as close to the reality of dreams as one could get. Not in the usual way that fluffy, ethereal music is described as dreamlike, but instead in a coldly psychological portrayal of the confusion and stream-of-consciousness nonsense that dreams actually are. It is densely layered, unsettling and uncomfortable, occasionally warm and fuzzy, but always surprising and generally just plain strange. Like most dreams though, it is the negative moments that that stay in my head after the event – the deliberately read, forced monologues of ‘Invasion’ and ‘Dwarf Documentary’ in particular. As an avant-garde pop music experiment it’s intriguing and often brilliant, as a pleasurable listening experience, well… it isn’t really. Not for me anyway. I strongly recommend anyone remotely interested to give this record a listen and make up your own mind, though, because for as many that will undoubtedly hate it there will likely be the same number who think it’s a work of genius. The problem is, I have reached my final sentence and still have no idea how many stars it deserves. I shall sleep tonight dreaming of a fence to sit on…

***

First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.