Wednesday I got paid. My policy on getting paid is that even if you have gotten far less money that you hoped/needed (which was certainly the case this time around) you should still allow yourself some fun. Because if you can't waste a bit of money the day/weekend you got paid. . . well shit, son.
So I went home and stashed most of my wages (paid in cash) where I always do and left the house with twenty pounds. The leaving-with-only-what-you're-willing-to-spend policy is also helpful in keeping things on the "oh, I shouldn't have bought that CD/last beer/t-shirt" range as opposed to "Shit>.!! I just spent everything i own and some of what I don't on dogfights, cocaine and women of the night."
Headed to Coyote for a punk gig. Coyote is about the size of someone's living room, so the music doesn't have to be great, just genuine. As it was, I saw Exeter band The Dead City Stereo who I keep ending up seeing on accident; I'm starting to recognise their songs. I don't go to many gigs at all, so the fact that there's a band (from out of town, no less) I've seen more than twice surprises me.
I also remember when that was my life.
At the gig I met up with Dave Beer and his Newport buddy Stubbs and we headed down to Mozarts for their first ever Open Decks Night. That's right. Show up with music, the in-house DJ shows you the ropes and you get 20-30 minutes to play whatever you want.
No one was there. Which was ideal, really. The Punks (john&jess) showed up and Keiran (who had his best buddy from back in the day visiting. It was mainly us and the staff, so I ended up getting to spin for an hour. Thing is, Rick had just played a pretty great set of proto-punk and leather-coated indie (Sonics, Brian Jonestown, The Only Ones) and Gemma went before me with a consistently bang-on set of '60s soul and r 'n' b. I knew I couldn't compete on that level of single-minded focus.
so what to do?
The answer (as is often the case in matters of life, death, taste or religion) lies with Steve Albini and The End of Radio. (see video above.) I believe the song to be one of the great combinations of music, lyrics and ideas of the last five years. . . that, however doesn't make it traditionally melodic, atmospheric or less than nine minutes long.
The beauty of leading with something like that is you can pretty much do anything you want after it.
This had a drunk-off-Stella-and-Tuborg Dave Beer jumping around and shouting HIT THE NOOORTH! into the faces of anyone there. There were a few people there by then and I just ended up playing a fairly trad-Graham set; some "anything by Ladytron" for Keiran, TV on the Radio and so on, closing with McLusky's "To Hell With good Intentions." Which i'm not posting here because if you know me, you've probably heard it. Enjoy some synth pop and Welsh instrumental maths, though.
This segued nicely into the next set, which was Hollie playing a mix of classic rock song and bands that sound like The Bronx.
"This is a total abortion of taste."-- Keiran, on the aforementioned set, possibly during a track by Boston.
So. From one abortion of taste to another, Adam, Keiran and Ian and I went and got Curry. At 2 a.m., when eating more always sounds like a good idea. The problem is, while nominally better for you than the dreaded Kebab, Curry is even worse the next day. It sits inside you and seeps through your skin; even the act of showering feels like you're wallowing in your own filth. The day after a post-midnight curry one genuinely feels like while there may be fleeting joys in life, nothing will ever be clean or whole again, for the rest of your life.
Which isn't necessarily how you want to feel getting up at 9:30 and rushing to the station to meet your girlfriend to catch a train to Cardiff.
Showing posts with label ladytron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ladytron. Show all posts
Friday, 20 February 2009
Saturday, 24 January 2009
Everyone's a critic and most people are DJs.
8 albums from 2008
When I first started writing music reviews, it was for the H.O.M.E. Newsletter, a pamphlet edited and largely written by myself and Leah Swearinger and distributed amongst the youth (and their parents) of the home-schooling co-op I was then a part of. This was over ten years ago. When I first started writing reviews for websites, the most powerful review-sources on the internet were still proper websites and not everyone had their own specifically subgenre-catered blog breaking ten new bands a week. This was somewhere around 9/11 (I'm pretty sure there's no connection.) I recently came to realise that arriving in Wales marked the first time in over 10 years I wasn't nominally employed writing reviews in some fashion (it's remarkable my tastes have remained so rigidly consistent. i'd hate to think what I'd been listening to if I hadn't been constantly dissecting and justifying my record collection to my mates. Its a sad, tragic life.)
Overall, it's been nice. I don't generally miss it. I was tempted briefly to make my own music/movie/culture review blog (or turn this into one) but 1) I'm lazy and 2) I'd rather just get into what I'm into. I know myself and being part of the "blogosphere" would have me a lot more worried about things like validity and obscurity (not a fucking badge! standinginthecornerlikeyourgirlfriendsdeaaaad!) and relevance and oh, look, I'm already enjoying life way less than I was before I started this sentence.
Still, I like writing about music and the end of the year seems as good a time as any to do that. So here's 8 albums from 2008 that I felt like writing about. Not all of them are the "best" records of the year, some aren't even my favorites per say, but stuff I thought was worthwhile. There's a lot of shit that came out that other people were really into that I simply thought was alright and then even more that I never even heard. And you probably don't need me to tell you about The Hold Steady or TV on the Radio-- what other people are saying is right, at least in the sense that Dear Science is fun to listen to or that "Constructive Summer" helped get me through mine. I thought that Nick Cave proved he was Still Awesome (best live show of the year) but every time Nick Cave puts out an album people get stoked on the fact that he still exists. You can add younger, but perpetually favourited acts like The Roots, Mountain Goats or whatever to the list that's always so long.
That said, here's mine:
Man Man--Rabbit Habits
This one is probably my favourite record of the year. Its made me dance in my chair and everyone I've played it for has thought it sounded like something different. A brief list: Gogol Bordello, the B52s, Tom Waits, Modest Mouse, "some drunk guy in a cabaret trying desperately to get laid" (I'm not sure how this is different than Tom Waits)and others. There are too many electronics and mashed up beats for it to fall under any sort of rambler/"freak folk"/songwriter tradition, but damned if the violins near the end don't make me want to join some sort of post-modern caravan. The critic in me also likes that this falls squarely outside of most modern music-cliques, though I could see it catching on fiercely, in which case there are worse bandwagons to jump on.
Times New Viking--Rip It Off
I've largely been listening to music on my laptop or iPod-- i.e.: headphones. And this album is way. too. loud. Which is appropriate for a band that dubs themselves Shit-Gaze and would be "lo-fi" if it weren't so ear-damaging. Its like they know that guitar-noise terrorism has been done and that reactionarily-cute pop has been done and that most bands who try to reconcile the two sound sort of like poorly produced Weezer, so the only option was to go farther in both directions. Because there are some damn good melodies threaded through all the fuzz.
Ladytron--Velocifero
One of these days I'm writing an essay on The Good Band; a group that might not incite riots of hype every time, but consistently produce solid, well informed albums that build on what they've done before. I wouldn't have pegged Ladytron to be an example of this when I first heard "17," but Velocifero has loads of great synth-pop, excursions into straight-up electronic fare, subtle humour and has stuck with me over repeated listens. All hype bands should get this good with time.
Deerhunter--Microcastle/Weird Era (contd.)
If I'd waited until October '08 to write my '07 list, Deerhunter's "Kryptograms" would have been on it. Oh, Time, you cruel bitch. That said, this record is pretty fucking sweet as it is. They crash together the pop song/noise track dynamic that made up "Kryptograms" quite nicely; most of these two discs are dreamy, ambient guitar pop punctuated with the odd feedback squall. Best start with "Operation" or "Nothing Ever Happened" for bona-fide pop chops and then work inward; this is a thick soup but it's soooooo delicious.
Black Milk--Tronic
Is it OK to write about an album you don't own and have never seen a physical copy of as one of your favourites of the year? It's my blog so I say it is. I haven't listened to a lot of new hip hop this year (see the bit about laptops being bad conduits for bass) and I'm not interested in Lil' Wayne's styled hype machine or Kanye's attempt at a Spandau Ballet record. Anyways-- Black Milk. Rapper/producer from Detroit who's got his whole album streaming on myspace and I've been going there every day to listen to it in my headphones. Reminds me a bit of Gangstarr (though that might be my limited points of reference.) The production is great; in addition to a lot of expected influences I also hear a good slice of Massive Attack and Kraftwerk in there and the rhymes are solid. I don't know if this is available in the UK, but I want it, and some good speakers to hear it through.
Made Out of Babies--The Ruiner
My theme for reviewing heavy records seems to be "The Melvins also put out an album this year, but this is better." Last year it was Big Business, this year it goes to post-punk/metallers Made Out of Babies, who've achieved the difficult task of making an album that's genuintely scary without sounding like it was made by meth-retards or ridicculous cartoon viking-nazis. I love you Julie Christmas. . . almost as much as I fear you.
Truckers of Husk--Physical Education E.P. (PEEP)
"Hey, do you like Prog?" "No." "How about mathy stuff, which is kind of like prog, but you know, not." "Like what?" "Lots of 99-03-5ish Northwest stuff. Sharks Keep Moving, Lands Farther East. . ." "Dude! Do you like Truckers of Husk?" "Who are they?" "They're this band from Cardiff and they're completely on that trip, but with shorter songs and more structured dynamics. No vocals-- mainly-- but it completely doesn't need it. Like Battles but less. . ." "Alien? That could be good. Really good." "Yes! Exactly!"
"Let's be friends."
"Okay."
"You know Math is basically prog for--"
"Shhhh. We're friends now. We don't speak of such things."
Portishead--Third
I admit it; I should have actually paid for this.
When I first started writing music reviews, it was for the H.O.M.E. Newsletter, a pamphlet edited and largely written by myself and Leah Swearinger and distributed amongst the youth (and their parents) of the home-schooling co-op I was then a part of. This was over ten years ago. When I first started writing reviews for websites, the most powerful review-sources on the internet were still proper websites and not everyone had their own specifically subgenre-catered blog breaking ten new bands a week. This was somewhere around 9/11 (I'm pretty sure there's no connection.) I recently came to realise that arriving in Wales marked the first time in over 10 years I wasn't nominally employed writing reviews in some fashion (it's remarkable my tastes have remained so rigidly consistent. i'd hate to think what I'd been listening to if I hadn't been constantly dissecting and justifying my record collection to my mates. Its a sad, tragic life.)
Overall, it's been nice. I don't generally miss it. I was tempted briefly to make my own music/movie/culture review blog (or turn this into one) but 1) I'm lazy and 2) I'd rather just get into what I'm into. I know myself and being part of the "blogosphere" would have me a lot more worried about things like validity and obscurity (not a fucking badge! standinginthecornerlikeyourgirlfriendsdeaaaad!) and relevance and oh, look, I'm already enjoying life way less than I was before I started this sentence.
Still, I like writing about music and the end of the year seems as good a time as any to do that. So here's 8 albums from 2008 that I felt like writing about. Not all of them are the "best" records of the year, some aren't even my favorites per say, but stuff I thought was worthwhile. There's a lot of shit that came out that other people were really into that I simply thought was alright and then even more that I never even heard. And you probably don't need me to tell you about The Hold Steady or TV on the Radio-- what other people are saying is right, at least in the sense that Dear Science is fun to listen to or that "Constructive Summer" helped get me through mine. I thought that Nick Cave proved he was Still Awesome (best live show of the year) but every time Nick Cave puts out an album people get stoked on the fact that he still exists. You can add younger, but perpetually favourited acts like The Roots, Mountain Goats or whatever to the list that's always so long.
That said, here's mine:
Man Man--Rabbit Habits
This one is probably my favourite record of the year. Its made me dance in my chair and everyone I've played it for has thought it sounded like something different. A brief list: Gogol Bordello, the B52s, Tom Waits, Modest Mouse, "some drunk guy in a cabaret trying desperately to get laid" (I'm not sure how this is different than Tom Waits)and others. There are too many electronics and mashed up beats for it to fall under any sort of rambler/"freak folk"/songwriter tradition, but damned if the violins near the end don't make me want to join some sort of post-modern caravan. The critic in me also likes that this falls squarely outside of most modern music-cliques, though I could see it catching on fiercely, in which case there are worse bandwagons to jump on.
Times New Viking--Rip It Off
I've largely been listening to music on my laptop or iPod-- i.e.: headphones. And this album is way. too. loud. Which is appropriate for a band that dubs themselves Shit-Gaze and would be "lo-fi" if it weren't so ear-damaging. Its like they know that guitar-noise terrorism has been done and that reactionarily-cute pop has been done and that most bands who try to reconcile the two sound sort of like poorly produced Weezer, so the only option was to go farther in both directions. Because there are some damn good melodies threaded through all the fuzz.
Ladytron--Velocifero
One of these days I'm writing an essay on The Good Band; a group that might not incite riots of hype every time, but consistently produce solid, well informed albums that build on what they've done before. I wouldn't have pegged Ladytron to be an example of this when I first heard "17," but Velocifero has loads of great synth-pop, excursions into straight-up electronic fare, subtle humour and has stuck with me over repeated listens. All hype bands should get this good with time.
Deerhunter--Microcastle/Weird Era (contd.)
If I'd waited until October '08 to write my '07 list, Deerhunter's "Kryptograms" would have been on it. Oh, Time, you cruel bitch. That said, this record is pretty fucking sweet as it is. They crash together the pop song/noise track dynamic that made up "Kryptograms" quite nicely; most of these two discs are dreamy, ambient guitar pop punctuated with the odd feedback squall. Best start with "Operation" or "Nothing Ever Happened" for bona-fide pop chops and then work inward; this is a thick soup but it's soooooo delicious.
Black Milk--Tronic
Is it OK to write about an album you don't own and have never seen a physical copy of as one of your favourites of the year? It's my blog so I say it is. I haven't listened to a lot of new hip hop this year (see the bit about laptops being bad conduits for bass) and I'm not interested in Lil' Wayne's styled hype machine or Kanye's attempt at a Spandau Ballet record. Anyways-- Black Milk. Rapper/producer from Detroit who's got his whole album streaming on myspace and I've been going there every day to listen to it in my headphones. Reminds me a bit of Gangstarr (though that might be my limited points of reference.) The production is great; in addition to a lot of expected influences I also hear a good slice of Massive Attack and Kraftwerk in there and the rhymes are solid. I don't know if this is available in the UK, but I want it, and some good speakers to hear it through.
Made Out of Babies--The Ruiner
My theme for reviewing heavy records seems to be "The Melvins also put out an album this year, but this is better." Last year it was Big Business, this year it goes to post-punk/metallers Made Out of Babies, who've achieved the difficult task of making an album that's genuintely scary without sounding like it was made by meth-retards or ridicculous cartoon viking-nazis. I love you Julie Christmas. . . almost as much as I fear you.
Truckers of Husk--Physical Education E.P. (PEEP)
"Hey, do you like Prog?" "No." "How about mathy stuff, which is kind of like prog, but you know, not." "Like what?" "Lots of 99-03-5ish Northwest stuff. Sharks Keep Moving, Lands Farther East. . ." "Dude! Do you like Truckers of Husk?" "Who are they?" "They're this band from Cardiff and they're completely on that trip, but with shorter songs and more structured dynamics. No vocals-- mainly-- but it completely doesn't need it. Like Battles but less. . ." "Alien? That could be good. Really good." "Yes! Exactly!"
"Let's be friends."
"Okay."
"You know Math is basically prog for--"
"Shhhh. We're friends now. We don't speak of such things."
Portishead--Third
I admit it; I should have actually paid for this.
Friday, 21 November 2008
Ladytron live review, 19/11/08.
“You don’t really go for blondes, do you?” my sister accurately observed on her recent visit. With that in mind, I knew that going to see Ladytron play in Bristol wasn’t going to be a bad idea, any way you cut it. Plus, it’d been a few months since my last gig and I was ready to be icily electropopped so the idea of getting my arm-folded head-nod on was very appealing. Also, you know, I like the band. So I hopped in the almost van with Wood and Martin and we were off. Just like that. Like Magic. Light and Magic.
Gig was at the Carling Academy; venues built specifically with the idea that no matter what sort of music is being performed, it will all feel equally out of place. A look at upcoming shows confirms this; Opeth, Alkaline Trio, The Roots. . . ah well. Better than Sin City, at any rate, albeit with worse beer. Seriously, Carling?
The support act, Asobi Sesku was solid; very loud, very pretty, tight and propulsive. None of this quite won Martin over, whose look of “this is thoroughly unimpressive in every right” was evident even dimly lit and in profile view. Wood and I quite dug on them, though; the songs were all indebted to shoegaze, but were varied enough one has their options as to what-sort-of-mix-cd they’d go on. But doubtlessly a good band to scam on girls with cute haircuts with, or perhaps impress a friend with. Fact that she sings in Japanese is cred points plus plus, but unless you’re Swervedriver or Catherine Wheel (Shoegrunge!) no one pays much attention to the words; its all about the voice-as-instrument. Which, incidentally, is one of the few aesthetics shared by a whole generation of mopey brits and the guy from Pig Destroyer.
Ladytron took the stage with Helen Marnie and Mira Aroyo right up front and the guys with questionable facial hair in the back. This is as it should be. You don’t play rhythm guitar for a band called “Ladytron” and expect an interview in Guitar Player Magazine; these guys know what side their bread is buttered on. The women of Ladytron maintained a cool reserve for most of the show as they rocketed through selections from their most recent album. It was all well and fine since that's the one I've got. A bit of a quibble as single “Ghost” felt slowed about a half-step, but “Deep Blue,” “Kletva” and “Forget the Day” were all aces.
The best moment of the show, undoubtedly, was “Seventeen,” when Marnie actually came alive and punched the air like she was at a socialist rally. Starting a revolution. Of angry 21 year olds and the men who empathise. Or something. There are many theories as to why this old, old song (for them) was the highlight of the night—possibly most credible being crowd reaction—but I’d theorise it’s easier to rock out a tune with fewer words. Plus if you fuck up the lyrics you just have to wait a few measures and you can throw down again; yeah!
The encore was a few more new ones and, of course, “Destroy Everything You Touch,” which has been stuck in my head the last couple of days. The show could have been a bit more switched-on energy wise (as demonstrated by a handful of the cuts that were) but all in all I left satisfied. After all, I was going to see a band called Ladytron.
Gig was at the Carling Academy; venues built specifically with the idea that no matter what sort of music is being performed, it will all feel equally out of place. A look at upcoming shows confirms this; Opeth, Alkaline Trio, The Roots. . . ah well. Better than Sin City, at any rate, albeit with worse beer. Seriously, Carling?
The support act, Asobi Sesku was solid; very loud, very pretty, tight and propulsive. None of this quite won Martin over, whose look of “this is thoroughly unimpressive in every right” was evident even dimly lit and in profile view. Wood and I quite dug on them, though; the songs were all indebted to shoegaze, but were varied enough one has their options as to what-sort-of-mix-cd they’d go on. But doubtlessly a good band to scam on girls with cute haircuts with, or perhaps impress a friend with. Fact that she sings in Japanese is cred points plus plus, but unless you’re Swervedriver or Catherine Wheel (Shoegrunge!) no one pays much attention to the words; its all about the voice-as-instrument. Which, incidentally, is one of the few aesthetics shared by a whole generation of mopey brits and the guy from Pig Destroyer.
Ladytron took the stage with Helen Marnie and Mira Aroyo right up front and the guys with questionable facial hair in the back. This is as it should be. You don’t play rhythm guitar for a band called “Ladytron” and expect an interview in Guitar Player Magazine; these guys know what side their bread is buttered on. The women of Ladytron maintained a cool reserve for most of the show as they rocketed through selections from their most recent album. It was all well and fine since that's the one I've got. A bit of a quibble as single “Ghost” felt slowed about a half-step, but “Deep Blue,” “Kletva” and “Forget the Day” were all aces.
The best moment of the show, undoubtedly, was “Seventeen,” when Marnie actually came alive and punched the air like she was at a socialist rally. Starting a revolution. Of angry 21 year olds and the men who empathise. Or something. There are many theories as to why this old, old song (for them) was the highlight of the night—possibly most credible being crowd reaction—but I’d theorise it’s easier to rock out a tune with fewer words. Plus if you fuck up the lyrics you just have to wait a few measures and you can throw down again; yeah!
The encore was a few more new ones and, of course, “Destroy Everything You Touch,” which has been stuck in my head the last couple of days. The show could have been a bit more switched-on energy wise (as demonstrated by a handful of the cuts that were) but all in all I left satisfied. After all, I was going to see a band called Ladytron.
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