Entry #66: Tarantula AD - Book of Sand

Another Plan B discovery, this one.

Circa 2005/6, I was reading the album reviews in an issue of said magazine and came across this.  The review described this as an instrumental album that fused metal with chamber music, folk and flamenco, which, on paper sounds like a disaster.  A pompous, overblown and unbearably theatrical disaster.  Nevertheless, I just had to hear what this would sound like.  What compelled me even more was the fact that Sierra Cassidy from CocoRosie featured on a track and that it was recorded outdoors (the latter appealing to the music production geek in me).

After placing the order through Amazon, the album arrived a week later.  The first thing that struck me was the awful cover art, but I wasn't going to let that put me off.  I reasoned this album was either going to be really good or really, really shit.  Fortunately it was the former.

Thankfully, the metal aspects of the record, rather than being crassly overpowering, are considerately intertwined with the rest of the music.  And yes, the album is as theatrical as you might expect, but far from being archly pretentious, it's somehow endearing; more experimental than self indulgent.  Rockier moments boil and swell, giving way to more languid, measured intervals, and back again.  Nothing feels forced, nothing feels out of place.  The unlikely blend of styles all flow together beautifully, making the album feel like one single, extended piece, and during its quieter moments, you can actually hear bird tweets and insect thrums; the sounds of nature providing an organic backdrop that adds to the overall charm of the record.

Above all, one of the reasons I like this album so much is that I really don't have anything else like it in my collection.  Yes, I have metal albums, I have instrumental albums and I have folk-inspired albums, but nothing blended quite as uniquely as this.  What's more, you can't help but admire the sheer gall that must have birthed such a goofily obtuse concept in the first place.

                                                   Tarantula AD : Who Took Berlin (pt1)

Entry #65: Julien Neto - Le Fumeur de Ciel

The music I listen to when I read is very important. It has to fit the mood and must not distract me (making, for instance, hip-hop a big no-no when reading).  I generally tend to go for more ambient or abstract music during reading time as it's non-intrusive and helps me concentrate.

'Le Fumeur de Ciel' was a surprise discovery for me.  Prior to finding it, I'd never heard of Julien Neto, and to this day, he remains somewhat enigmatic and elusive.  Sometime around 2007, I picked up this album from Boomkat after seeing it in one of their regular emails.  I didn't know what to expect, but I admired the beautifully minimal cover art and wanted to hear more.

What I finally heard was a collection of downtempo electronica that is absolutely perfect for reading.  There are evenings where all I want to do is close the curtains on the world, sit in bed with the ambient glow of the bedside light, a good book and some music, and during such times, this album is a regular fixture.  It is perhaps because I have played it so often during such times that it has become an all-time favoruite of mine.

'Le Fumeur' to me sounds like being wrapped in a warm blanket of sound and reminds me of those preciously cosy and intimate moments of alone time that the introvert in me craves, and as the album opens, I gleefully sink into that world, book in hand.

                                                                   Julien Neto : VI

Entry #64: Manic Street Preachers - The Holy Bible

I don't find this album enjoyable.

Of course, it's a good album (I wouldn't list it here otherwise), but it's definitely not an enjoyable album.  Engaging, affecting, compelling and powerful, yes, but not enjoyable.

As a mopey 16yr old,  I was already familiar with the studied polemic that drove the band by way of their first two albums: the Manics' wore their political motivations on their sleeve and Richie Edwards lyricism was near legendary (his more angst ridden musings especially resonating with my disenfranchised teenage self), but this was something else, something rawer and darker.

I first heard 'The Holy Bible' on a listening pod in the now long defunct chain called Our Price back in my home town.  Initially, I wasn't sure what to make of it.  I'd already heard  the single 'Faster', which I liked, but standing in a busy record store with those ridiculous pod headphones over my ears, I couldn't really connect with the rest of the album, which I was trying to absorb in short, 30 - 60 second intervals before hastily skipping to the next track.  This of course is not the best way to gauge a feel of any album, especially not one like this. 

Fast forward a few years later, my metal years were receding, and I decided to give 'The Holy Bible' another go, diving straight into its relentlessly nihilistic, but strangely beautiful world.  The first thing I noticed was that the feel of the record was very different to their previous albums.  Gone was the affected stadium rock that defined them prior for a sound more akin to post punk, with the naked, bare bones production serving to accentuate this shift.

So yes, this album definitely made an impression on me.  My first proper listen in particular is something I won't forget.  The song I've chosen below is one of my favourites from the album, and the interplay between Bradfield's vocal and the music around 0:42 and 1:08 still gives me goosebumps to this day.  'The Holy Bible' may not be the most cheerful album I've ever heard, but it's certainly one of the most memorable.

                                          Manic Street Preachers : Die in the Summertime

Entry #63: Thomas Dolby - The Flat Earth

I always considered Dolby an interesting artist, albeit one who'd mostly slipped beneath my radar.  I remember hearing a few of his more well known singles on the TV and radio growing up, 'Blinded Me With Science', 'Close But No Cigar' and 'Airhead' being notable examples, but he continued to pass me by for a long time.  Some years later, I came across this album and from the plastic electro-funk of opener 'Dissidents', I knew wanted to hear more.

With only 7 songs, 'The Flat Earth' is a very short album, but one that manages to cover a lot of ground.  What I love about it is the way it sounds very much a product of the early 80s in which it was produced, whilst also sounding ahead of its time.  I credit this in part to the production which is crisp and defined in a manner you would not typically associate with the era. 

Of course, it's not just about production, TFE also has some damn fine songs.  Dolby combines an idiosyncratic approach to pop with remarkable musicianship throughout, and every time I play this album, I am always amazed at just how well put together it is.

                                                          Thomas Dolby : White City

Entry #62: Janelle Monae - The Archandroid

 
With some albums, you can tell almost straight away that they will stay with you forever.

I first discovered Janelle Monae via last.fm sometime around 2009.  The first song was 'Violet Stars Happy Hunting' from her 'Metropolis' EP, and I was immediately hooked.  Monae's music was a million miles away from the saccharine pop stylings of the R'n'B she is sometimes lazily cateogrised as.  This was fresh, daring, and boldly experimental; an artist, not an entertainer.

So a year later, I was very pleased to hear that she had just released a new album, so without hesitating, I grabbed a copy.  As suggested above, it was love at first listen: the album begins with a theatrical classical suite that's followed by a foot tapping psychedelic pop ditty, that's followed by a bouncy new-wave number, that's followed by a Stevie Wonder inspired neo soul tune... well, you get the idea.  This freewheeling and seemingly effortless experimentalism and flamboyance never lets up for the entire album, all held together by unifying musical motifs and Monae's powerful voice.

What struck me was the sheer genius of this woman.  When listening to this album, you simply cannot escape the fact that is was created by someone who really knows, understands and, above all, loves music.  To me, it's a level of genius that approaches the likes of Prince or the aforementioned Stevie Wonder which, in itself tells you just how special this album is.

This musical vivacity has unfortunately not yielded commercial dividends for Monae, who is criticised by some for not conforming to a more obvious pop-friendly formula, but these criticisms miss the point: that "market" is more than catered for.  There are legions of entertainers in that ballpark churning out endless streams of tacky, autotuned pop with factory-like precision, and for Monae to toe that line would be an extraordinary waste of talent.  (Her unnecessary attempt to appeal to that audience with the cringeworthy standalone single 'Yoga' ably proves that point.)

In 2011, I took my fiance to a Janelle Monae gig which today remains one of my favourite live experiences.  The music from the album was married to a wonderful stage performance featuring Monae's sharply attired backing band and dancers (decked in the characteristic black and white suits), mysterious hooded figures, zombies (during 'Sincerely, Jane' from the EP) and a stentorian witch doctor.  The gig was also a first for my fiance who'd previously never been to a live show, so this album, and the gig itself also carry some sentimental weight.

I honestly cannot enthuse about this album enough.  I'm even listening to it as I type this entry!  I make a point of encouraging people to listen to this album, so if you haven't heard it, then get the hell off this blog and listen to it NOW.  Maybe then you'll discover exactly why I number it as an all-time favourite.

                                                           Janelle Monae : Come Alive

Entry #61: CocoRosie - Noah's Ark

 
I first heard about CocoRosie on a forum I frequented back in 2005 or so, thanks to a guy raving about them in a thread.  He'd recently purchased 'Noah's Ark' and posted a link to a song he liked from the album.  I clicked it and was immediately drawn into a very strange new world. 

The song he linked to was 'Beautiful Boyz', a tragic tale of an ill-fated boy turned ruined prison inmate.  It began with understated, melancholy piano chords, the lilting croon of guest vocalist Anthony Hegarty and the ghostly wails of Sierra Cassidy, one half of the sibling duo that is the band itself.  I didn't quite know what to expect when I clicked the link, but it wasn't this.  The intro made way for some filtered, lo-fi beatboxing accompanying younger sibling Bianca Cassidy's strident vocal.  It was a complete and utter headfuck, but incredibly powerful and compelling.

He later posted another link, this time it was 'South 2nd', another tragic tale, this time of a mother's son lost to inner city gang violence, rendered as a gentle, haunting acoustic number with the digital sqwarks of children's toys and miniature pianos providing the unlikely accompaniment.  The lo-fi aesthetic immediately made me think of the likes of early Sebadoh and Beck even though musically, it didn't sound anything like them.  However, it was enough to pique my interest and I knew I needed to own this album.  So I picked it up.

I later found out that CocoRosie had been lumped in with one of those contrived musical fads music journalists occasionally dream up to draw attention to themselves; in this case, "freak folk" or "New Weird America".  Predictably, after a bit of research, I discovered that many of the artists thrown into this category had little in common and I went back to not caring.  Nevertheless, I could not shake this band or this album.

What did it for me was CocoRosie's boundless, unfettered approach to music.  The unlikely blending of unlikely styles in unlikely ways (a technique normally the preserve of Japanese artists approaching "western" music).  It was never quite knowing where each new song was going to go, and the way their songs inspired so many feelings; a sense of childlike wonder, haunting melancholy, euphoria and mystery, approaching topics like religion, sexuality, mythology and death with colourful abandon.  I also loved the enigma they projected: were they really sisters or lesbian lovers?  Is one of them actually a boy?  And were the tales of their past and upbringing actually true or just fanciful stories designed to wrong-foot their audience?  I wanted to know, but I also loved not really knowing or for that matter caring.  So yes, 'Noah's Ark' definitely blew me away.  The cover (looking like a piece of art homework that would land a schoolkid a week's detention) is every bit as odd as the music and does a fantastic job of visually summing up the album.

After this, I went backwards and picked up 'La Maison De Mon Reve' which was decent but for me, not quite as fully realised as this album.  I also went to see them live in 2007 which today remains one of my favourite ever gigs.  The albums that followed this are a mixed bag; as you'd expect, their sound becomes more and more polished and refined, but whilst the same creative spark remains, these follow up records never really recaptured that magic that initially drew me in.

'Noah's Ark', then, very much an acquired taste, but definitely something that appealed to me in a big way.

                                                          CocoRosie: Tekno Love Song

Entry #60: Jack or Jive - The Earth

I will never ever forget the first time I heard this album, and in particular, the effect it had on me.

Around 1999, I had a pen pal whom I'd found on a DIY tape trading website I frequented.  For the benefit of any younger readers, it bears pointing out that the web of the mid to late 90s was a very different place to the web today.   Back then, there was no social media of any kind, so any online correspondence with people was mostly limited to email or AIM and its many variants.  When it came to music, there was no YouTube, Bandcamp or SoundCloud, so if you wanted other people to hear your music, you had to send a physical copy of that music to them in the post.  Prior to the exchange, all people had to go on was a written description of what your music sounded like so your descriptions had to be compelling enough to attract attention. 

Based on what this guy had written about his music, I wanted to hear it, so I got in touch, requesting a CD and sent him one of my own tapes in exchange.  From that, we started writing to each other regularly and would swap music back on forth, be it music we liked or our own.  It also helped that we had a shared interest not only in experimental music, but in video games (we also swapped copied PS1 games) and anime.

One late September evening, I returned from work to a package from my online friend which contained along with the usual letter, a CD-R from a band called 'Jack or Jive' whom I'd never heard of before.  I put the CD straight into my stereo and hit 'Play', not having any idea what to expect.  The album began with a pulsing, electronic darkwave beat and moody synths.  Siren-esque vocals weaved like smoke patterns across the soundscape and the affecting chorus immediately struck something within my inner being, right in a place I didn't even know was there.  I continued listening, and the way this music made me feel was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.

Strangely, the music spoke to a part of me I don't recognise as the person I am now.  It had a strange sense of familiarity I could not explain, and as whimsical or trite as this might sound, it was as though I was suddenly remembering the existence of a former self, a self that existed in a previous life.  Yes, it sounds weird, maybe even laughable to you, but that is how the music made me feel.

The mood of Jack or Jive's music is definitely nocturnal, recalling moonlight, spirit entities and rituals.  Vocalist Chako doesn't sing any recognisable language, choosing instead to form utterances from a personal tongue.  To be reductive or lazy, one might describe Jack or Jive as a Japanese Cocteau Twins, but that doesn't even tell half the story.  Other than the made up language and otherwordly atmosphere, they don't really have that much in common.  Cocteau Twins' music feels much more structured compared to Jack or Jive's whose songs are more free-form, typically built up around a singular theme that loosely informs the flow of the music.

Jack or Jive's music for me seems to exist in a world that is both completely alien and entirely familiar.  It is a world of darkness, the beautiful darkness of the selenophile.  It speaks to a place within my very being where such darkness is sacred and necessary, not to be feared, but embraced.  As you might expect, the mood is quite downbeat and sometimes melancholic, but as per an earlier entry, I often find myself drawn to such sounds and find them comforting.

I went on to find as much of their music as I could get my hands on (some of which came from my online friend) and pretty much have everything they've put out including the limited run 'Towards the Event Horizon' CD and the ISSIN box set.

I'm not in touch with my old pen pal anymore (we stopped writing each other around 2001) and he will never know the impact he made when he sent me that unassuming CD-R that September, but I am beyond grateful that he did.

                                                              Jack or Jive : The Earth