Entry #47: Plaid - Not For Threes

I was initially unsure as to whether to include this.  Of course, I like the album, but I debated as to whether it truly qualified as an all-time favourite.  Then I thought back...

I thought back to when I saw it on a listening pod in Virgin Megastore in 1997, read the blurb and realised these guys were signed to Warp, the same label that sired many of Aphex Twin's releases; and that label familiarity gave me something to go on.

I thought back to how, having liked what I heard on the pod, I decided it was worth paying £14.99 to own it (I shudder as I recall how expensive CDs were in those days....).   I thought back to how often I played the disc, how it was one the first earnestly electronic albums I bought, and how it would (unconsciously at first) reshape my tastes and inform the trajectory my own music would take when the day came for me to start making it.

I thought back to how the progressive unpredictability of the tracks kept me second guessing throughout, how I was constantly wrong-footed and pleasantly surprised.  I recalled the goosebumps I got from Extork's dark, near-industrial grit and how it juxstaposed with Nicolette's smooth, yet somewhat acidic chirrups (see below), and how I knew straight away, that I needed to hear more music like this.  I recall the chilled vibes of 'Rakimou' and the way Fer's breezy, off-kilter Aphex-like melody shifted like day and night into something more menacing. 

Above all, I thought back to how this was the beginning of my first foray into experimental eletronica (to this day, I REFUSE to use the term IDM), and how it reconnected me to my electronic roots, showing me a world far beyond the generic 4/4 dance-pop that was so ubiquitous back then.

So yes, this album definitely shaped me in a big way, and leaving it off would've been a regrettable oversight. Thankfully, I saw sense.

                                                                      Plaid : Extork

Entry #46: Hungry Ghosts - Alone Alone

A few years back (2013) I was riding home from work in a taxi.  Annoyingly, it was quite busy, so a lot of time was spent sitting in traffic.  Fortunately, the tedium of the laboured journey was made more bearable by the driver's choice in music. He was playing some chilled, instrumental guitar music that I really liked the sound of.  I glanced over at the HUD and saw the name 'Hungry Ghosts', but no song title.  I committed the name to memory.

Later, I Googled Hungry Ghosts but found very little about them online.  I learned from the only page I could find that they'd recorded 2 full length albums, but there was nothing to stream and no way to get hold of these albums.  A few months later, I started looking again, but this time, I discovered they had a Bandcamp page which gave me the opportunity to actually listen to their music.  I really, really liked what I heard.

The beauty of Hungry Ghosts' music is its minimalism.  Most of their songs feature just guitar backed by violin, sparse percussion and occasional accordion flourishes.  The spartan arrangements and clean production gives their compositions space and room to breathe, showing that quietness and even silence can sometimes convey intensity greater than loudness.  Their songs also possess an almost cinematic quality, many of which wouldn't sound out of place in a epic western.

I picked up their eponymous debut, the EP and this, the follow up around the same time and they are all phenomenal pieces of work, but this is the one that's stuck with me the most.  When I listen to Hungry Ghosts, I am always struck by the emotional dimensions their music invokes, and how it's able to say so much with no lyrics whatsoever.  In fact, lyrics would detract from their music in a big way, especially given its film score-like quality.

Whilst I am relatively new to this band, the fact that their music has made such a huge impact on me so quickly speaks volumes.

                                                         Hungry Ghosts : Alone Alone

Entry #45: Kafka - Fantome Intro Das Waltz

This one was another mystery find from an indie record store.  Whilst browsing through the CDs, the black digipak with nothing on its front but a picture of a high chair and the word "Kafka" caught my eye.  I became intrigued as to what the music on this disc could possibly sound like.  The song titles, with names like 'Are You Listening?', 'Silence Lives in Ashtrays', 'Vanished Art' and 'Asylum Song' didn't really offer any real clues and neither did the inner sleeve.  The album was in the reduced section, and going at only £4, so it seemed rude not to buy it.

When I took it home to play, I was greeted with a suite of moody songs with restrained (mostly acoustic) guitar and minimal bass punctuated by a slow heartbeat of deep kicks and palpitating snares all rounded with morbidly elliptical lyrics from the mouth of a vocalist not singing his mother tongue.  I was drawn in by the atmosphere the album invoked; it sounded to me like the soundtrack to a gothic spaghetti western.  I even felt compelled to cover one of their songs (Vanished Art).

No amount of Googling turned up anything on this band, the mystery only serving to add to the charm.  However, a few months later, I found the band's page on MySpace (this was circa 2007) and reached out to them.  I got a response from the singer and guitarist who was surprised their album had found its way outside of their native Portugal.  Either way, he was very pleased to hear from me and glad I liked the CD.

In these twilight years of the record shop (and indeed physical media), opportunities like the ones that introduced me to this and so many other albums are becoming increasingly scarce.  As convenient as downloads may be, there is something magical about taking a chance on an unknown album in a record shop and finding something really special.  One day, I know I will miss being able to do this.

                                                                    Kafka : In Motion

Entry #44: Sparklehorse : It's a Wonderful Life

 
As per an earlier entry, I got into Sparklehorse some time in 2002, and this was my first album.

Around the same time, I had been "between jobs" for about half a year, my last job folding around Christmas 2001 (which goes without saying is a really shitty time for anyone to be out of work).  I was living at home, emotionally and mentally boxed in by my well meaning, but stridently fervent mother and her religion, which was made even more stifling by the unemployment.  My only escapes were my old friends video games and music.  In those months, I was pretty much almost exclusively listening to obscure electronica and chiptune as that was where my head was at.  I was also quite busy with my band, be it writing new songs or playing gigs.

In the spring of 2002, I was fed up of waking up every morning and feeling like there was no reason to even get out of bed, so I decided I was going to do odd jobs until I found something in my field.   To that end, I visited an agency, and they got me some part time work.  It wasn't much, but it gave me something to do and got me out of the house so I was grateful.  One morning, I was on my way home from work and decided to pop into my local library.  I found 'It's a Wonderful Life' on the CD shelf (you could borrow music from this library) and was immediately drawn to it.  I can't exactly recall what compelled me to even pick it up; I think I may have heard of Sparklehorse somewhere before, but I can't remember.  Anyway, from scanning the liner notes, I discovered the album was produced by Dave Fridmann, which was enough to make me want to give it a listen.  I wasn't disappointed.

What I loved about Sparklehorse's music was Mark Linkous' almost alchemical way of combining the sounds that made up his music: plangent guitars, aged, crackly loops, mellotron, piano, drum machines and distorted keyboards all deftly woven into a musical tapestry that was hauntingly beautiful and affecting; languid, measured but intensely powerful.  I also really appreciated his obliquely poetic lyrics which like the best, leave enough room for the listener to form interpretations that are personal to themselves, which something I found myself doing a lot.

IAWL became quite a personal record for me as I found within its lyrics words that spoke to my circumstances in their own way.  'Gold Days' made me feel hopeful, 'Piano Fire' (a favourite) seemed like a metaphorical analogue of my creeping distaste towards the aforementioned familial religious noise I could no longer simply drown out or temper.  'King of Nails' made me feel powerful and 'Comfort Me', reminded me that I was only human.  I'm not going to go through every single song on the album, but you get the idea - it spoke to me and helped me through a challenging time.  What's more, Linkous' music proved hugely inspirational for my own; a few of the songs I wrote for my band at the time drew their influence from Sparklehorse, particularly the lyrics.

That summer, I played 'It's a Wonderful Life' and 'Good Morning, Spider' to death, and I was only 2 weeks into that part time job before I found something more permanent. Things were beginning to look up and my introduction to the world of Sparklehorse marked the very beginning of a long, personal journey. 

                                                               Sparklehorse : Piano Fire

Entry #43: Gumdrops - High Speed OK?

Again with the summer of '96.

So, there was a second hand record shop not far from where I was living at the time.  It stocked lots of obscure curios amongst the usual dross you see everywhere else, and whenever I had a bit of cash burning a hole in my pocket (which wasn't very often), I'd chance a look and see what I could find.

Whilst I prefer the ease and convenience of digital downloads today, one of the things I miss about buying CDs back in the day is going into record shops and browsing as I found so many unexpected gems that way.  Nothing beats the feeling of seeing an interesting looking item nestled amongst rows of neatly filed CDs in a record store, having absolutely no idea about the band or artist and just buying it on a whim.  Sometimes you'd luck out and discover your favourite new album for a while, yet other times, you'd pick up a dud.  It was the closest I ever got to gambling and I discovered my fair share of good and bad this way.  As you can probably guess, in the case of this particular album, I got lucky.

The only thing I knew prior to buying this CD was that Gumdrops were Japanese, and probably an indie rock band of some sort.  That was enough to pique my curiosity, so I took the CD home and gave it a listen, and it turns out that my suspicions were entirely correct.

So yes, in essence, what you have with this album is a Japanese take on US style lo-fi indie rock, nothing more, nothing less.  It's charming (due in part to the very Engrish lyrics) and the tunes are solid.  I played this a lot back then and it endeared itself to me in a big way.   As a result, 'High Speed... OK?' has stayed with me ever since.

There's not much about this album online, but I did manage to find (ahem) this one video that someone uploaded to their YouTube channel, almost as if they read my mind(!).

Entry #42: Dead Prez - Let's Get Free

 
Every now and then, you encounter an album that stops you dead in your tracks.  An album so powerful and affecting, it demands your complete, undivided attention.  'Lets Get Free' is such an album.

Like most, the first thing I heard from it was the single '(It's Bigger Than) Hip Hop', which cunningly belies the potency of the record.  The song was played to me by a friend who'd just bought it, and my first reaction was annoyance because the bassline was very similar to one I'd come up with for a track I'd recently put together (I ended up shelving the track because people would think I just ripped it off).  However, it wasn't until a few years later that I heard the rest of the album whilst visiting another friend, and this is when the message of the album truly hit home.

There was a time when rap music was polemical and strident, with the likes of Public Enemy, KRS One et al delivering messages of empowerment and a call to change.  Predictably, rap was infiltrated and subsequently declawed, now all we are left with today is drawling, materialistic pabulum.  'Let's Get Free' then is arguably one of the last earnestly political rap albums ever made.

Not so much an album as a political manifesto, 'Let's Get Free' forces you to sit up and listen.  Like the best art, it challenges; it will make you think, make you uncomfortable, make you question, and of course, make you bob your head.  Whoever you are, you will feel something when you hear it.  By the sheer virtue of its power, LGF made an impression that has remained with me ever since I first heard it back in 2000.

                                                               dead prez : Psychology

Entry #41: Beck - Stereopathetic Soulmanure

 
1996 again, summer was in full swing by now.  I was changing.  For a good couple of years before this, I was an angry, uptight young metalhead who channeled the frustrations borne of a repressive, religious teenhood into loud, heavy music.  Much of it reflected the darkness in my own mind that again, was (ironically) informed by the religious worldview I was bought up with and fighting against.  However, this was the summer that I realised I was in danger of being swallowed whole by my own angst, so my attitude had started to shift.  Basically, I'd become a slacker.

The same new friend from the previous entry, it turns out, had a similar upbringing to mine, but he escaped sooner.  Either way, I felt I could relate to him in a lot of ways, especially given that he liked a lot of the music I did before getting into metal, and through him, I found myself drifting back there, which is how I ended up with a copy of this album.

Of course, in the 90's everyone knew who Beck was, mainly due to MTV favourite 'Loser' from 'Mellow Gold'.  However, what a lot of people didn't know is that his record contract allowed him to release less commercially accessible material on small indie labels, and 'Stereopathetic Soulmanure' was the result of that.

A cynic might dismiss the album and consider me liking it hipster posturing.  Admittedly, it's not the most immediately listenable Beck album you'll ever hear, the songs are scrappy, lo-fi affairs that sometimes sound like Beck is really just taking the piss, but for me, that was a big part of the charm.  I found something defiantly "fuck you" about songs that were so willfully discordant, noisy, and chaotic.  Above all, I found it funny and enjoyed the "WTF!?" reactions of people I'd play the album to.

At the time, mine was a tape copy of the album I'd recorded from my friend's CD.  I was living in a student house, but rather than go home for the summer, I opted to stay in town, even though the guys I was living with had gone.  To avoid paying rent, I told the landlord I had gone home and lived rent-free in the house for about 3 months by laying low and making sure I was out during the day.   And yes, I pulled it off; the landlord never came to check on the house, and I was rarely in (I only really slept there), so he was none the wiser!

One morning, I woke to a nice spliff, then played this album at full blast whilst cooking breakfast.  For some reason, that rather prosaic memory has always stuck with me, and whenever I think of this album, I think about those cheeky, rent-free summer months, most of which were spent drifting aimlessly, visiting friends, getting high (a lot), going to festivals, looking in shops at stuff we had no way of being able to afford, being poor as fuck (no steady job), but being content and perfectly happy.  It reminds me of the summer I spent unshackling myself, realising that metal no longer did it for me, making the decision to quit university and stay in town with my new friends, doing whatever for as long as I could.  I had no idea where I was going at this point, but I didn't care.  Everything was new, exciting and fun.  Perhaps the album stayed with me because my entire attitude at that point was as "fuck you" as the music on it.

'Stereopathetic Soulmanure', then.  A special album partly because of the music, partly because of the memories and partly because of what it personally represented for me at the time.  Either way, this album has a special place on this list.

                                                                   Beck : Thunder Peel

Entry #40: Smashing Pumpkins - Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness

If you've read this blog in ascending order (oldest entry to latest), this one may surprise you a little, and yes, I thought long and hard about it and eventually decided there was no way I could compile a blog made up of albums that have stayed with me over the years and leave this one off.  If you are reading this in descending order, you'll probably understand why I debated on whether I should include this later on.  And something similar will happen with another entry, as you will also see later.

So, the year was 1996 again (significant to me for music, it would seem).  It was around the start of the summer.  I'd not yet dropped out of university (I wouldn't make that decision for a couple of months), and I was still pretty much a metaller at this point.  Despite being a fan of the Pumpkins beforehand, once my metal years hit, I never really paid them any attention whatsoever, but that changed with this new guy who started hanging about with my friends and I.  If you're reading this in ascending order, then yes, this is the same guy from this entry.

Anyway, one evening, we went out to a rock night in town.  This guy invited us all back to his place after we left the club; there was about 4 or 5 of us, and we sat there getting stoned and listening to music.  At some point, he suggested putting on 'Mellon Collie'.  We were all a little skeptical at first, but he just asked us to give it a go.  So there we were, buzzed from the alcohol and the weed, listening to a band I hadn't even thought about in nearly 3 years.  I found myself being very impressed with what I heard, particularly with the way their sound had evolved from 'Siamese Dream' (and 'Gish' before that); it was definitely the same band, but their sound was more dynamic and even futuristic in places ('Love' at the time sounded like it came from the year 3000).

The tired old cliche about music sounding better when you're high certainly rang true that evening; as I sat splayed on the couch, my mind was transported to the planet this music inhabited.  In this state, the nautical, dreamlike 'Porcelina of the Vast Oceans' that closes the first disc sounded otherworldly.  By the start of the second CD, everyone else had more or less fallen asleep so I pretty much listened to it myself.  Again, I could not help but be impressed by the variety of moods and sounds that spanned the album: blissful, soothing songs gave way to all out rockers that gave way to quirky electro-pop, that gave way to haunting, ethereal soundscapes.  This staggeringly diverse, yet utterly consistent mix opened my eyes to what alternative rock in particular could be and showed me just how important eclecticism is.  For that reason, I consider this album instrumental in shaping the diverse tastes I have today.  Through the metal years that preceded this revelatory experience, I'd learned to betray my former inclinations by becoming myopic, and considered that a credit to how "metal" I was.  However, this is where that callowness began to dissolve and was the start of a huge shift in my musical consciousness, up there with the first time I heard chip music on my Commodore 64 as a kid (as briefly mentioned in the intro).  And when I wasn't listening to the music, I was poring over the elaborate and enigmatic artwork that lined the CD or reading the lyrics.  I was utterly captivated.

Two albums later, the Pumpkins would begin a steady, ignominious fall from grace from which they would never recover.  To this day, the shuffling zombie that masquerades as this once great band only serves to cheapen its legacy, with Billy Corgan himself become harder to like as time goes on.

Nevertheless, I cannot begin to articulate the effect this masterpiece of a record had, somehow influencing everything I went on to do and become, both consciously or unconsciously.  Without a doubt, its' sounds well and truly made me.

                                                            Smashing Pumpkins : Love

Entry #39: Outkast - Aquemini

I first got into Outkast somewhere around the turn of the millennium.  I was visiting a friend who played me 'Stankonia', which at the time, was their latest album.  I immediately got the impression this was not your usual hip hop album, and Outkast your usual hip-hop group.  What struck me was the sheer variety of sounds on display, the way everything was so effortlessly woven together from funk, electronica, rock and soul, the way they unapologetically embraced avant garde sensibilities, the sheer sense of fun the record exuded and of course, the wordplay.  I went out and bought the album the very next day.

Some years later, I discovered 'Aquemini'.  I can't actually remember why I decided to pick it up, but I did, and I was completely blown away.  As with 'Stankonia', I was floored by Outkast's knack for crafting such an immaculately realised world within their music, comprised as it was of a richly eclectic sonic DNA so far ahead of many of the group's peers and contemporaries.

A defining characteristic of Outkast's music is its fresheness, and for me, 'Aquemini' epitmoises that principle almost perfectly (arguably more so than Speakerboxxx/Love Below, which says a lot).  With each new track comes a raft of new ideas, and the feeling of not knowing just where the album is going from song to song is one of the things that made it such a joy to listen to the first time around.  When I first got this album, I was also doing a stint of DJ-ing at a pub I frequented and 'Synthesizer' regularly featured in my sets, but the standout song for me definitely has to be 'Liberation' which has since become one of my favourite songs of all time.  The song possesses a tremendous emotional range and depth that is even more pronounced by the proliferation of guest vocalists that appear on it (Erykah Badu and Cee-Lo being two notables).  It instantly struck a chord with me the very first time I heard it and is a big part of the reason why I am so fond of this album.

So yes, 'Aquemini' is a very special hip-hop album, and one that has remained with me ever since I first heard it.

Entry #38: Polvo - Exploded Drawing

First of all, I hate the term 'Math rock'.  I'm not American, the word is maths.  M-A-T-H-fucking-S, OK?

I'm glad that's out of the way.

Anyway, for me, this genre sits somewhere on the unlikely intersection between Indie and Prog rock.  It features the compositional nuances typically associated with Prog (i.e. unconventional key and time signatures) but without the self-indulgence and pretension.  As an aside, I have tried to give Prog rock a chance, I really have, but it mostly leaves me cold.  Throughout my life, I've always known at least one person into the likes of King Crimson and Yes (to give two obvious examples), but it does nothing for me.  I find Prog too onanistic; all technicality and theatrics but little in the way of spark or vitality and songs that sound more like elaborate guitar exercises than anything I'd actually want to listen to.  The closest I get to anything approaching Prog would probably be Tool or even Mew.

This is where Math rock (shudders) is different for me at least.  Yes, it can be noodly, it can be willfully obtuse at times and yes, it can definitely be self-indulgent, but the songs feel more alive, more vital, possessing an edge and energy absent from Prog.  I don't get the impression that Math rockers are in love with their own sense of self-importance and neither is their music delivered with that infuriating, near-pornographic abandon that makes Prog so draining to listen to.  The lack of showboaty guitar solos also helps a lot, too.  (Seriously Prog guys, fuck off with that shit.)

I mention all of this because Polvo are seen as the standard-bearers of Math rock; and whilst their music is very technical and nuanced, it remains relatable and grounded, and therein lies its appeal.  More cynical readers might say I'm essentially justifying liking Prog by any other name.  Whatever.

For me, this album stands out for a couple of reasons. For one, I absolutely love the production.  Bob Weston provides a well balanced, no-nonsense sound, creating space for the band to fill and not stifling the mix with superfluous studio gimmickry, which is exactly what a band like Polvo needs.  The songs themselves are playful and quirky and don't take themselves too seriously, something which only serves to make the music all that more endearing, even during those moments where it threatens to veer into navel-gazing territory. 

                                                                  Polvo : Purple Bear