Entry #73: HTRK - Work (Work, Work)

HTRK is not a band I've known for very long.  I found them towards the latter part of 2014 via a YouTube recommendation of all things.  The recommended song was 'Body Lotion', which immediately captivated me with it's sensual groove of snappy 808 beats, riding a wave of undulating guitar and synth drones, all complemented by Jonnie Standish's breathy vocals.  The music invoked images of darkness and seduction, of bodies slowly moving together in half light, of hazy, dreamlike sunshine and extended lens flares across clear blue.  It was both primal and ethereal, and I was immediately annoyed at myself for not having heard of them before now, because I really, really liked what I'd heard.  I then sought to pick up as much of their music as I could find, be it albums and EPs (including the EP from which the aforementioned song came), and in doing so, I found myself in a bewildering and compelling sound world. 

I started with 'Marry Me Tonight' which I took to immediately.  I then picked up 'Nostalgia' whose scrappy, dissonant no-wave sound took me by surprise: a good album, but quite different from what I'd heard from the band thus far.  However it was this, the third HTRK album I'd heard that really made me fall in love with the band.

To me, HTRK excel in their ability to paint soundscapes from a palette of pulsing beats and drones.  Owing to the minimalism of their music and distinct lack of traditional verse/chorus/verse arrangements, HTRK deftly communicate so much with so little, and 'Work Work Work' for me epitomises this principle more fully that any of their other releases.  The follow up album 'Psychic 9-5 Club' distilled their sound further, focusing more fully on the electronics and is again, a cracking album, but it still doesn't come close to this.

So there you have it, another fine record that's made a lasting impression on me, and in such a short space of time no less.

                                                                    HTRK : Skinny

Entry #72: Death Cab for Cutie - We Have the Facts and We're Voting Yes

 
I discovered Death Cab around 2003-ish via a site called epitonic.com which I used regularly at the time for finding new music.  I indirectly stumbled across the band as I'd learned that its singer Ben Gibbard had provided guest vocals on a track for an artist I was already familiar with, namely Dntel.  If memory serves, I think I also discovered Dntel on epitonic but I honestly can't remember.  Anyway, by falling through this particular rabbit hole, I learned of Ben Gibbard's band and found some of their tracks on the same site.  I enjoyed what I heard and made a mental note of the band.

Early into 2004, I picked up 'Transatlanticism' from one of my regular high street music chains even though it didn't have any of the songs I'd previously heard on it.  I played that album a lot, and, bruised and jaded as I was then, Gibbard's tales of love gone wrong found a special place in my heart.

As previous entries would suggest, once I get into a band I really like, I obsessively work my way through their back catalogue, and this was also the case with DCFC.  In doing so, I discovered this album and was also pleased to learn it featured two of the tracks I'd previously downloaded from epitonic, namely 'Photobooth' and 'The Employment Pages'.  The rest of DCFC's back catalogue followed in due course, and even as it did, 'We Have the Facts...' remained my favourite.

And so, as spring rolled into summer, I played that album as much as I could; its tales of love and loss, and its general mood, once again, resonating with where I was back then.  Owing partly to when I first started playing this and the general sound of the music, I consider WHTF to be a summer record.  By no means is this feelgood summer party music, but something about the mood and melodies does invoke sunshine for me, albeit a very bittersweet kind (something I touch on with another Gibbard-affiliated record mentioned in an entry beneath this one).

I also really like the production on this album.  It has a very "band playing live in a studio" sort of feel to it, which really works well on this record.  The song I've chosen below is one of my favourites.  It recalls for me the ends of so many summer nights out on the town that year, winding down and heading home, or to the home of my best friend and smoking into the early hours, of lovesick introspection and listless, anaemic nostalgia.  Both the song and the album that year served as a crucial reminder that life is twofold: there is no good without the bad and vice versa.  In this, and in so many of WHTF's songs, I hear the happy and the sad perfectly intertwined, and in that lies the beauty of this record.

                                                           Death Cab for Cutie : 405

Entry #71: At the Drive In - Vaya

Wilful contrarian that I am, I avoided anything connected to this band for ages.  Owing to all the hype that surrounded them at the time, I just assumed they wouldn't be as good as people were making out (they were getting praised by NME for fuck's sake), so I steered clear.

Then, sometime in 2002, as I was downloading some music from Bearshare (remember that?), my curiosity finally got the better of me and I decided to add a random 'Drive In' track to my feed.  The track in question was 'Proxima Centauri' from an EP called 'Vaya'.  As you can probably guess by this very entry, I fucking loved it.  I was immediately struck by the kinetic energy and drive of the song (no pun intended), it wasn't what I was expecting at all, to be honest.  I was also very impressed by the production, which to my ears was reminiscent of some of Steve Albini's works thanks to its spacious "live" sound.  On the strength of what I heard, I went out and bought the EP.  Yes, you read that right: whilst I could've easily downloaded the whole thing for free, I actually went out and bought it.

'Vaya' got a lot of play that summer (a summer I've spoken of in earlier entries), its propulsive flow was cathartic and cleansing, helping me as I worked through my troubles, and its seven songs have remained with me ever since.

Having enjoyed this EP so much, I dived into the rest of ATDI's catalogue and discovered an abundance of albums and EPs that varied in quality, but nothing came close to 'Vaya'.  In fact, I was rather disappointed with 'Relationship of Command' (their latest and most hyped album at the time) which to me, sounded horribly flat and over produced.  Whilst its songs were decent, they seemed to be struggling to be heard underneath the over zealous compression and stifled by the complete lack of dynamic range.  As such, 'Relationship' is the 'Drive In' record I play the least, and I dream of a day when somebody remasters the album and gives the songs room to breathe. 

Digression aside, 'Vaya' is definitely worthy addition to this list and an EP that I never tire of hearing.  Lesson learnt?  By all means, don't always believe the hype, but don't be afraid to sometimes give it a chance.

                                                      At the Drive In : Proxima Centauri

Entry #70: Junior Boys - Last Exit

As mentioned elsewhere in this blog, 2004 was a bittersweet year for me; full of great moments and not so great ones.  Its summer was soundtracked mostly by the one and only album by The Postal Service (equally bittersweet), a great album, but one I, unfortunately, played to death.  You won't find it here mostly for that reason.

As the summer drew to a close, I found myself in the possession of 'Last Exit' which I'd heard about via Sister Ray's mail-order catalogue.  Still buzzing from my Postal Service electropop fix, I relished the thought of more music that was -ostensibly at least- in a similar ballpark.  Of course, the two albums don't really have anything in common other than perhaps genre, and for that reason, I didn't warm to 'Last Exit' too much at first.  At first listen, whilst I enjoyed the clearly Timbaland-inspired beatwork (in all its stuttered, palpitating glory), the songs seemed too measured, the vocals too restrained and uncertain, and the lyrics too oblique.  I listened to it a few times but remained largely indifferent and unmoved by it all.

A few years on, and after many occasional plays, the album started to grow on me; REALLY grow on me, and my original criticisms became things I started to enjoy most about the record.  The seemingly oblique lyrics were now poetically charming (even at their most obtuse), and the measured pace of the album gave the songs a languid, slow-burning feel.  And so, with beautiful irony, I realised I liked 'Last Exit' way more than the album I'd originally dismissed it in favour of.   The Postal Service's poppy sugar rush had worn off long ago, replaced by the slow creep of Junior Boys' modestly stylish debut.  Again, it's not my intent to compare these albums, I only mention this to underscore just how 'Last Exit' grew on me, overtaking an album I seemed to love way more back when I first heard them both.  It really is funny how things go sometimes.

So, far from being bittersweet, 'Last Exit' has stayed with me as an album that recalls the beginnings of good things, and serves as a reminder that sometimes, slow and steady really does win the race.

                                                      Last Exit : When I'm Not Around

Entry #69: Grouper - A I A

For the life of me, I cannot actually remember how I discovered this album, but I'm so glad I did.  I enjoy ethereal, ambient sounds, and this album (which is actually two albums, 'Dream Loss' and 'Alien Observer') provides some of the best I've heard.

I can't quite put my finger on why I love it so much, but I do.  To me, it's the sound of swimming to the surface of black waters, guided by shimmering moonlight and Liz Harris' siren call.  It's the sounds of ghosts, or perhaps the music you hear in the tunnel of white light spoken of in near death experiences.  Either way, it's not of this earth.  With minimal, reverb-drenched guitars, keyboards and those gorgeous, gorgeous vocal harmonies, Harris paints soundscapes that entrance me every time listen.

The perfect music to fall asleep to, A I A takes me to another world.  If only I could live there.

                                                    Grouper : She Loves Me That Way

Entry #68: Paradise Lost - Icon

So, as previously mentioned, around my late teens and early twenties, I fell into metal in a big way.  During that time, I existed on a steady diet of mostly thrash, grindcore and death metal bands, but was open to anything as long as it was heavy and dark. Paradise Lost were one of the first bands I got into after hearing them on a metal show that came on TV in the early hours of the morning, a show I would tape religiously.  The song in question was 'True Belief'.

There are some musical moments that stay with you forever, and in this case it was the beautiful solemnity of the song's chorus.  In particular, the way the lead guitar harmony played against the rest of the music.  Somehow it resonated with me in a way I couldn't quite express in words, and is testament to the power of music itself, particularly its unique capacity for reaching into you and drawing out emotional effects.  Anyway, I ended up getting the album and it actually took a few plays before it fully grew on me, but once it did, it became a firm favourite.

'Icon' to me is a nocturnal record, so I tend to only play it at nights, and only within the cold, dark winter months.  At any other time, it just would not sound right.  Also, it is the second in the triptych of what I consider the band's finest works, beginning with 'Shades of God' and ending with 'Draconian Times'.

Aside from the odd band (mostly the slower, sludgy, doomy stuff), these days, I listen to very little of the metal I once consumed so feverishly.  It is occasionally fun to revisit some of my old metal favourites, but a lot of it is lost on me now.  Be that as it may, the fact that 'Icon' has still remained with me to this day speaks volumes.

                                                        Paradise Lost : True Belief

Entry #67: Ken Ishii - Innerelements

In 1998, I'd finally returned to my hometown from years of wandering a grey, concrete town in the midlands (where a good few music introductions listed here took place).  At first, it was a massive comedown: I no longer knew anybody, I'd left all my friends behind, and I was back living at home in the interim.  Basically, it sucked, but if I could go back in time, I'd tell myself then: "Don't worry, mate.  It's going to get better.  Much better".  And it did.  But that in itself is another story.

How this album relates to the above is as follows: back in the aforementioned wandering years, I chanced across Ishii's 'Echo Exit' on MTV. A chilled techno track with slick Anime stylings (I still have the beautifully packaged single somewhere), which was my introduction to an electronic artist I wanted to know better.  One day, I was browsing the 'Electronic' section in a record shop, and came across two Ken Ishii albums; this and another called 'Jelly Tones'.  I actually bought 'Jelly Tones' first, mostly because the stylish cover art reminded me of the aforementioned 'Echo Exit' single.  I played this album a lot and really liked it, but it was ''Innerelements' (which I bought sometime later) that really got my attention.

As it was the 90s,  I was already more than familiar with dance-based electronica as it was practically everywhere (though back then you mostly heard the pop or club stuff which didn't appeal to me very much).  However, as someone who was, at the time, very much in the alt-rock camp (despite a strong affinity for electronic music), I wanted something a bit different.  Something that subverted all that banal, clubby landfill, something with an edge; and I found exactly what I was looking for with Ishii's fresh take on techno.

I credit 'Innerelements' as being another key album in shaping the way I thought about my own music as Ishii turned what I thought I knew about electronic music on its head.  'Innerelements' was as far away from generic dance-pop as you could possibly get: skeletal, syncopated (and at times, tribal) 4/4 rhythms skittered and shuffled playfully as smoothly discordant, yet melodic synths fleshed out the tracks.  It was all new, but I loved it.  As with 'Jelly Tones' and the 'Echo Exit' single, I often envisioned this music as the soundtrack to some futuristic anime.  And so, as with Aphex Twin's 'Selected Ambient Works', Spooky's 'Found Sound' and Plaid's 'Not For Threes', a desire to explore the outer limits of the electronic was born in earnest.

As it turns out, 'Innerelements' isn't even an album.  It's actually a compilation of Ishii's earlier works, and this is something I only found out recently.  Nevertheless, it introduced me to what I consider to be some of his best material and shaped the architectural framework of my own music, earning it a place here amongst other sounds that have made me.

                                                      Ken Ishii : Fragments of Yesterday