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