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

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