Monday 15 November 2010

television personalities

I don't recall the first time I listened to Television Personalities, that I felt the impact of Dan Treacy's broken and utterly fragmented voice, broken by the years and the abuses; the infantile melodies, the duos with a female voice mocking all that melodic, cheesy pop tradition of boy-girl. What I really remember are the songs.

I found them quite late, with the album My Dark Places from 2004 (a good 20 years after their debut album), but the attraction was instantanious. I don't care that they escape from the lyrical and melodic canons that we are so used to, that he sings really bad, out of tune, unable to reach the highest notes that he attempts, that some melodies have a tacky orchestration, hardly arranged. What really matters is that it abducts you. In the same way that Daniel Johnston does. Television Personalities really drag you to their "Dark Places", we want to see that dark and decadent world they promise us.

This week, fate brought me back to them. To their new album A memory is better than nothing. It is yet too early to have a clear, well-informed opinion of it, but after a couple of listenings, we appretiate a continuation of the previous work. Another straight album shouting in your face. Full of irony and criticism, of personal references ("People think that we're strangers"), cultural mockery ("She's my Yoko"), of hald-distorted guitars, of pop-punk-ish that is not afraid to use machines to create their sounds.

If you haven't yet entered into the world of Television Personalities, the door opened by A memory is better than nothing is really appealing: don't let it close.

Tuesday 9 November 2010

Mishima live at Fires de Girona

It was cold in Girona. David Carabén mourned about it and, joking, complained about his personal choice of clothing and the bad joke played on them by Sant Narcís.
That's how the Mishima gig started at the Fires de Girona.
They opened with a classic, "L'estrany" that maybe arrived too early, when there was not enough people around the stage.
Afterwards, while the place was filling up, they almost play the whole of Ordre i Aventura, leaving only "Deixa'm creure", "En arribar la tardor" and "Ordre i aventura" out of their repertoire. The songs sounded properly arranged and thoroughly worked after several months of playing them on tour. Most of them were preceded by musical introductions that, in some cases, helped to maximize the power of the song whilst on other cases were mere show-offs. Because Mishima really can show-off, they have the songs and the skills to do it.
Between the songs of their last album, they also played some of their great classics. "No et fas el llit" sounded huge, explosive. "Miquel a l'accés 14" drove us back to the first listenings of that new band that decided to move from English to Catalan and how glad we were for their blossoming, and "Qui n'ha begut" really took us to another planet ("ens transportà a un altre planeta") while dropping golden sparks ("espurnes d'or").
Some of the most famous songs were rearranged for the evening, the rhythms modified, the vocals changed and, unfortunately, in more than one occasion those changes took away the quality of the original song, they darkened our appreciation of the music and the lyrics. They put us in our place, because yesterday Mishima proved that they are not a sing-a-long band full of easy melodies: they are a proper band that play music to be listened to, to be appreciated and to be analyzed.
Until it was time for the reprises. After some shy clapping from an audience unaware of who was on top of the stage, looking only to have a good time, the band reappeared.
The bass set the mood, the guitar followed slowly and, before we even realised, "Vine" was playing. Ambiental, interesting, less darker than the original and, hence, a little less powerful. But powerful nonetheless.
And to end it up, to close a worked out gig, with a list of precise and precious songs, "Sant Pere". Heartbreaking as ever.
A perfect ending.

Thursday 28 October 2010

driving music, 1

By chance I find myself about to listen to Fig. 5 by Jackie-O-Motherfucker in the car. It has been a long since the last lime I listened to it and can only vaguely remember what to expect from it. Let the journey begin, then.
The first song, "Analogue Skillet" is rough, dry, perfect for my current location: a cold industrial state.
With the second song, "Native Einstein", I wish I was in a seaside village, at Summer time, crowded, noisy, loud, and me, within the car, the windows fully closed, the volume at maximum, enjoying the sound, the contrast, the silences, the inside isolation, the feeling that whatever is happening outside is not real.
And we reach the third song, "Your Cells are in Motion", the 9 minutes of repetitive melodies, of chained sounds, lysergic emotions that in someone else's hands would have degenerated into post-rock or even worst, but that Jackie-O-Motherfucker know how to maintain it in a folk tune, cathartical, spiritual, even.
And after 20 minutes within the world of Fig. 5, the voices arrive.
With the fourth song, "Go down, old Hannah", the folkie suspicions are confirmed. The song is a clear statement. The voice is extracted from a Folk guidebook, the same once followed by Cat Power, the one still followed by Eighteenth day of May, Lau Nau, Larkin Grimm, She and Him. But with the elongated will to do things slowly, to let the sounds flow, the melodies grow at will. With no hurry. There are 74 minutes in the album and only 9 songs, so time is not a constraint.
And, of course, the banjo on the fifth song, "Amazing Grace" doesn't surprise us.
We return to the soft melodies combined with some sound eccentricities in "Beautiful September (We are going there)" and "Chiapas! I must go there", to prepare ourselves for the over 24 minutes of "Michigan Avenue Social Club" and its constant melody and its subjugating charm that reminds us of the Velvet Underground.
And to end the album, "Madame Curie". Calmly. With wind chimes and insinuated melodies.

And so we reach our destination happily.

Wednesday 27 October 2010

the confirmation

Yes.
Elvis Perkins, In Dearland. Thrilling.
The level sinks a little bit, obviously, but the drums in "Hours Last Stand", the double bass in "I heard your voice in Dresden", the Hammond organ and the chains in "I'll be arriving", the trumpets in "Chains, Chains, Chains", quiet, melancholic (moving us to miss the Beirut's Gulak Orkestar, when Beirut had a reason to be, before the Frenchy decline), or livelier in "Doomsday", and the classicist and utterly sad orchestration in "How's forever been, baby" show the way that so many would like to follow.

trying to read

I try to read ("Sweep up!"), I stare at the words ("little sweeper boy"). I concentrate ("yellow is the color of my true love's crossbow"). What the...? I don't look at the page anymore. I listen. I listen the organs following the voice, the guitars, the melody. I don't read anymore. I listen "Shampoo" by Elvis Perkins.
And it's the second time this happens to me.
There's definitely something special about this song. It seduces you. I'll have to close the book and listen to the whole album and see if he is just a one-song singer-songwriter or if the album as a whole can keep up to the first song. I really wish so. It's been a long time since I was last moved by new music.

Friday 22 October 2010

vampire weekend

After several months of seeing the album Contra resting on the shelf, today, at last, I have decided to listen to it. The first listening just confirmed my suspicions. Regardless of the amount of good reviews written, they are nothing but another little band doing the same all over again, this rock-funky-dance-young-careless-londoner style. They sound like the worst Arctic Monkeys songs, the least interesting of Franz Ferdinand's, some Razorlight ones, or The Coral, or any of the other thousand bands passing by in front of us so quickly that we hardly notice them.
Maybe in a few months time I will listen again Contra and it will sound completely different. Maybe I will be in a better mindset. This is the magic and the curse of music: it is so bloody subjective that to talk about it with someone who feels differently is like talking Chinese to a Dutch.

the handsome family

Thursday, 7th October, a day like any other day. Another lazy morning. Outside is neither hot nor cold, there are some clouds, nothing worth mentioning. Half slept I stretch my arm and pick a CD almost randomly: Twilight by The Handsome Family.
It had been a while. Years even.
It begins with the utterly curious "The Snow White Diner", what could be an American cover of Sisa's "Qualsevol nit pot sortir el sol", at least when it comes to the lyrics. "I'm eating hashbrows in the Snow White diner", despite the dark turn of "outside the crowd is growing, waiting by the drawbridge hoping to see the dead woman's face". And the song is good. One of those that grow in you. Slowly. Step by step. Quietly. A bed time story sang close to your ear.
And Twilight evolves discreetly until it finishes with the vindicative song "Peace in the Valley once again". Vindicative, of course, on their particular way, that is, no catchy slogans, colourful flags or banners with old messages. No. They ask for a return to nature, they demand the closure of all the shopping malls and to give back to the animals what once was theirs, "rabbits hopped along the floors (...) mourning doves built their nests on the escalator steps", yes, and then, finally, the peace will come back to the valley once again.
And it doesn't matter if they are naïve, if they tend towards a neo-hippy-folky-naturedriven mentality, they are the best antidote for my boring morning.

interpol

The first time I listened to Turn on the Bright Lights I had to stop doing whatever I was doing. Being so used to do other activities while listening to music, too often the sound becomes buried underneath, a mere accessory to my doings. That's why whenever a song, a voice, an album, grabs my attention, it means that there is something good going on.
Joy Division were somehow back on the headlines thanks to films, documentaries and several other activities about the mythical band, but I didn't expect Interpol.
Listening to them was to listen the best of Joy Division. They share a lot: percussive rhythms, sharp guitars, preponderant bass, deep voice. The lesson was thoroughly learned. But they also added the atmosphere (sorry about the word-game), the surrounding sound, the soft but caressing distorsions. You can feel the production work: 30 years of evolution in the producing world haven't been in vain! They have not only been used to mass-produce mainstream hits, they have also brought to us melodies and atmospheres never imagined previously (i.e. Sigur Rós, Björk, Explosions in the Sky. Mogway, Efterklang...).

Yes, it is true that then Antics was released. Which is not half as good. Which I did never manage to enjoy. In which they try to repeat a formula which had already aged. And I lost track of them. But Turn on the Bright Lights exists. It was in my hands. It is in my head.

experiences, 1

Half eight and I'm already on the road. I'm sleepy: I went out yesterday. I turn on the CD player and Cherub Rock brings me back to life ("I want that honey!"), "Quiet" pushes me, precisely, to not being quiet at all, and well, "Today" still is "Today". It remains one of the main indie anthems, an ode to distorsion, to the head-banging, but also to melody, to youth, to that ice-cream van covered in paint that appeared on the promotional clip. Yes, "Today" takes us back in time and, sometimes, also in space. We remember the American sunsettings, those lived and those imagined, the lingering sunsets from the cliffs...
Then, "Hummer" shows us, already, what the Smashing Pumpkins were going to evolve into. It shows us their most melodic face, the most nostalgic and intimate one, the same one that spreads over CD 2 from Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness and Adore (hidden behind the machines and guitars).
And when we think we are for in for an easy ride, when we believe that the album will continue full of distorsed guitars and heartbreaking melodies, out of the blue comes track number 6. Acoustic guitars, and bells, and violins, and that deep voice: "Disarm" is on and it really disarms us. The music touches us, the voice is talking to us, we shiver when Billy Corgan screams: "I used to be a little boy".
And right at this point I stop the car. I don't care anymore about getting late to work: "Disarm" is playing and we must listen to it.

music tests, 1

Goal: To test the value (real and/or subjective) af an album as a whole.
Elements: The album to be analysed, a CD/MP3 player, time.

Procedure:
1. We choose an album to be analysed. In this particular occasion, for this test, I have chosen The Bends, by Radiohead.

2. Write down any reaction prior to the audition of the album. Why have we chosen this particular album, which feelings, emotions does it arise...
- This album has been chosen because I have not listened it in almst a decade, because it is extremely relevant in the band's evolution and also because it belongs to our collective past.
- It is just touching the album, seeing the cover art, that emotions are triggered, the album seems to talk directly to our brain, to the forgotten areas of our brain were we stored the album years ago. In other words, the cover art seems to prepare us for the emotional ride we are about to initiate. The pain in the face, the half-naked body, the anxiety... an image, a thousand memories.

3. And now, we start playing the album. From beginning to end. With a pen and a notebook handys to take notes of the whole process.
- A familiar sound, not even music yet, surrounds us. "Planet Telex" begins. Before the start of the first verse, we remember the lyrics. From who knows where, without being aware of remember it, the words came back to us. And we mumble the melody, we sing the chorus.
With the second song, "The Bends", we even remember its three guitar chords . Time, suddenly, seemed to have not gone by.
And its the turn for "High and Dry" and "Fake Plastic Trees" and we are touched. They haven't aged at all! They still have all theyr energy, all their dramatic power. We remember the black and white clip for "High and Dry", how it rained at the very end and how the music didn't stop. We remember who we were (or who we thought we were) the first time we listened to this album. How we lived our teen years, how we thought that we were gonna succeed in life, how we desired to escape from our family house, from our town, from everything and from everyone, how those songs seemed to talk to us, how we used to spend the Saturday afternoons locked in our bedrooms listening to the radio. Everything comes back. Painfully.
The remaining of the album keeps us going up and down, through guitar strokes ("Bones", "My Iron Lung", "Black Star"), through desperation ("Nice Dreams") until we reached the cathartic end. After shaking us, phisycally and emotionally for 50 minutes, once we are soft, fragile and with our heart wide open, here it comes "Street Spirit (Fade Out)". And its simplicity overcomes us. Its delicacy embriagates us. Life, suddenly, has a purpose: listen to music, re-live these 50 minutes again, return to our past forgetting that the present scare us and the future doesn't exist.

4. Extract conclusions from the test.
- There was a time when we were young, when we were lucky to experience the birth of Trip Hop, the explosion of Grunge, the hyperactivity of Brit Pop, the very end of Rock Català, as we were learning to live, to think, to have fun. And that is something that noone can take from us. Therefore, let's allow ourselves, every now an then (there is no need yet to live only in the past), a trip to the past. Music can be our vehicle. Let all those memories forgotten blossom. All those worries that we thought unsolvable, show themselves as small and insignificants as they really are. But be careful. Time-travel has its consequences: not everything awaiting for us is good. Let's be prepared, then, to go back to our fears, our worries, the lost goals, the unreached dreams... and maybe, only maybe, by the time the music test ends we won't know if our eyes are wet due to the emotional strengh of "Street Spirit (Fade Out)" or because we have realised that we are not who we thought we were going to be.

la bien querida

When I suggested my friends to listen to Mishima I felt awkward, embarrassed even, just as if I were showing myself naked in front of them. as if I were showing my most intimate self (unknown to me, to be honest). Suddenly, the words became so personal, the melodies so small and delicate that it felt as if they were only talking about me and to me, the only one who could appretiate them.
After some time, I figured out that it was not exactly the case: the private and intimate pleasure that Mishima provokes is transferable, you only need to choose the adequate person to whom you want to share it. Otherwise you'll be faced with odd looks and mocking smiles: love is never in vogue.
This week, history repeated itself when I played La Bien Querida to my friends. The same feeling that, when listened out loud, publicly, we struggle to get involved in the words as much. The same feeling that what we are listening to has touched us so deeply that words can not comunicate it.

Thursday 21 October 2010

els amics de les arts

I have been following the musical adventures of Els Amics de les Arts for quite a while now. I really enjoyed "Mecanoscrit del segon origen" from their Catalonautes EP. "Doctorat en Romànic Medieval" from follower EP (Roulotte Polar) forced me to scream out loud: Yes! That's me who you are singing about! When Castafiore Cabaret (their third EP) came out I was not quite sure what to think about and up to today I still quite unsure. Yes, it has the band's biggest hit song "A vegades" and the song "El Código Da Vinci" which is well rounded, but the rest of the EP is mostly forgettable. And about the EP divertimento Càpsules Hoi-Poi, so it does its job: it is fun to listen to and it brings us back to our childhood. To the childhood of those who were raisedwith Dragon Ball, of course.
And then, Bed & Breakfast arrived. A proper CD finally! A long player with no fillers.
The first time I listened to it, it didn't impress me much, to be honest. The second time, sometunes got stuck in my head unconsciously. After the third time I was desperate for more!
Yes
, each one of the songs, or microstories as some like to call them, grabs you on their particular way. You can't help but smiling with the love story in "4-3-3" explained as a football match. You get involved in the tenderness of "L'home que va matar Liberty Valance" and "Reykjavic". You feel simpaty and even identification with "L'home que treballa fent de gos". And when it gets to the end, to the "Bed & Breakfast" song, you may wonder if it is a cover of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" or an opera rock but in any way, you are sure that they have got it right.
And maybe it is true that "La merda se'ns menja" but as long as we can smile about it, everything will be fine.