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