Well, I know I’ve been listening to a LOT of David Bowie lately, and I’ve been discovering his old albums, and what a wonderful adventure it’s proving to be. His Berlin trilogy particularly, is a revelation. And Low, well, the influences come thick and fast, but the first few bars of The Speed Of Life, it’s just Blur, isn’t it? Fascinating.
Author: GuyHornsby
Music, writing, and living.
January: David Bowie – Blackstar
Well, I was going to say “who saw that coming?” but we’ve been here before. As it’s been said, when you no longer tour and live as a relative recluse, you can control whatever the public sees of you. So it’s no surprise that after The Next Day, which skewered his early years whilst nodding in reverence to them, that David Bowie spent 2015 making a follow-up, confounding us all again with the title track in November. I have to confess I took a little time to finally listen to this, as I wanted to watch the video rather than just the audio. And it stopped me in my tracks. In fact I ended up stood on Cheapside in my lunch break with my mouth open.
As a statement of intent it’s pretty powerful. While I loved The Next Day, for all the parallels to his classic albums, lyrically it was very much in the moment, skewering his character, ageing, his legacy, and proving he still has the edge that made his music so alluring when I first listened in my teenage years. But while the words on Blackstar do find some common ground with The Next Day, that’s mostly where the comparison ends. There’s been a lot (and I mean a LOT) of frothing of about how avant-garde it is, as if he’s turned into John Cage, genetically spliced with Roni Size and Miles Davis, but I’d take much of that with a pinch of salt. For anyone that’s familiar with Radiohead’s more experimental (recent) work, or the likes of Flying Lotus, or Bjork or any other more outre albums of the last two decades (let alone all sorts of electronic music), it’s not that far-fetched, but I guess the praise is in someone of Bowie’s stature and reputation still feeling so fresh, raw, and willing to experiment. After all, I can’t think of many (any?) artists approaching 70 that would do this, or do it with so much success or style. Especially when they’ve had forays into more experimental work with such varying results. I can see how die-hard classic era Bowie fans (especially those who are the same age as the Thin White Duke) may struggle with it, but really forget the hype, and just listen: this is outstanding work, a potential classic in the making, even after a few listens.
The title track’s first half echoes so much of Radiohead to me, and this isn’t a statement of either artistic laziness or pastiche, (just think Thom Yorke singing instead, and it’d be one of their best works itself) but high praise. Coupled with a deeply disturbing video that burns itself onto your consciousness, with Bowie as some sort of excommunicated (punished?) preacher stating prophetic, abstract lines as adolescents convulse and shake in the background, it’s affecting from the start. Who knows what it’s about? There’s been discussion (denied by Bowie’s team) that it’s referencing ISIS, but really it’s the ambiguity that’s the point here. The dead ‘Spaceman’ (Starman? a nice touch either way), the huge candle, the eclipsed (black) star; there’s huge, broad stylistic strokes at play and then, just as you wonder where it can go from here, it slows and shifts into what feels at first like familiar Bowie, its sax and swagger, all offset by the harsh, discordant, repeating chorus. I’m massive fan of long opening tracks on albums (Station to Station, or Elton John’s Funeral For A Friend), after all, isn’t that what albums are for? As an opener you’d think it’s hard to live up to, but it’s a case of setting the scene.
There’s almost breakbeat-ish, brash rock in Tis A Pity She’s A Whore, then a self-effacing Lazarus, which was written for a stage version of The Man Who Fell To Earth. Sue, which is Bowie to d’n’b (in a good way, thankfully) and echoes things like Squarepusher. Similarly, Girl Loves Me goes heavy on percussion and electronics, but they never take over the song itself. Dollar Days and I Can’t Give Everything Away again talk of death and loss and age and the past. Even a few listens and I’m hooked, and you can only applaud the constant reinvention of a man that could’ve ‘retired’ in 2003 and had a legacy as good as anyone in music.
Bowie continues to confound, and this may be the best thing he’s done since his Golden Years.
John Grant (feat Tracey Thorn) – Disappointing
Not much to say about this track apart from:
a) it’s brilliant (the song, the video, Tracey)
b) his new album is out on Friday. (October anyone?)
September: Roisin Murphy – Hairless Toys
I have always been a fan of Roisin Murphy, since – like many of our generation – I saw her in the video for Molok’s Sing It Back (Boris D’Lugosh, we salute you). In truth by then she’d already been with Moloko for over 5 years at that point. Her voice has always been striking, so when the band went their separate ways, her solo career launched. I have to admit though that I’m hardly a ‘have everything she owns’ fanboy. I don’t think I’ve ever been disappointed by anything she’s done, but when I bought Overpowered I didn’t expect it to end up as one of my favourite albums of that year. It’s hard to put your finger on her allure, but it’s more than that voice and the lyrics, even though they’re great. Overpowered is painted as a disco album, but it’s far more than that. Sultry, plush, sweeping and enticing, and with her character at the centre the songs are more than the sum of their parts. I still love it.
So, when I heard ‘Exploitation’ on 6Music, fairly relentlessly, it got in my head. I didn’t love the song, but as with much of what Murphy does, it just has something about it. The wonky lead synth, her breathy vocal almost lost in the wind, the angry piano chords. Then I watched the video, and it reminded me why she’s still one of the most interesting artists around. In fact, it’s criminal – given her creativity and skill – that she’s not as successful as more bland and less inventive compatriots. She was doing interesting female solo pop when Lady Gaga was celebrating her 9th birthday. Isn’t that the way of the music world though?
The album is like a slowly unfurling flower. When I first heard it, it didn’t really grab me like I wanted it to, but then it’s a fairly big departure from ‘Overpowered’. Musically inventive, and challenging, it’s a box of tricks that rewards multiple listens. From Gone Fishing’s almost bossa-nova beginnings, to Evil Eyes’ whimsy (backed up by a truly great video), arguably the most poppy and accessible the album gets, it’s a delight. Uninvited Guest sounds like a Grace Jones record, until that staccato vocal slides in, and it feels like a record that only she could make. There’s musicality to her vocals, in the delivery that almost works them like an instrument, and indeed her range is so huge she can go from full-on throaty top range to almost invisible. It’s central to the album, one that goes slow and grandiose, with no fear of trying to be anything other than what she wants it to be. And it’s long. Much longer song length than most artists would risk these days, but nothing feels stretched out or like filler. Unputdownable is a great example of this as it closes out the album. As a modern pop album it’s one that deserves to sell a ton, but of course it’ll just confuse people wanting three-minute ringtone stuff, but they’re missing out.
More of this: I hope it’s not her last and I hope we don’t have to wait until 2023 for the next one.
May: Hot Chip – Why Make Sense?
It’s a bit late this month, but I hope it’s worth the wait, Brothers. And before we get started, there’s a disclaimer here: I’m an unashamed Hot Chip fan. Since I heard The Warning back in 2006 I’ve been hooked. Back then they were a different proposition: new kids on the block, making music that didn’t really sound like anything else I’d listened to (and even more so on Coming On Strong, their 2004 debut, which I consumed the same year) and the antithesis of both the rock and electronic ‘bands’ I listened to as well. They didn’t look like pop stars, they didn’t sound like pop stars, (jesus, comparing them to Radiohead or Arcade Fire seemed odd, still does in some ways) but Over And Over clicked with something in me that I didn’t expect.
Once I got into the album, it’s clear they offered something more than everyone else: a sound that went between full-on dancefloor banger (Over And Over, No Fit State) r’n’b-tinged love songs (Boy From School, Colours) sprinkled with lovely oddities that just seemed like they weren’t trying to be anything at all other than a band just recording what they wanted (Don’t Dance, The Warning, Careful). I saw them at Lovebox that year, they were a strange experience. Playing ridiculously early on the main stage, they were a nervous-looking cadre of nerdy synth geeks, almost not engaging at all with the crowd but making a decent fist of studio-produced songs that didn’t always crossover to the live arena.
Nine years later comes their sixth album, and maybe their best yet – Why Make Sense – and in some ways they’re completely different and yet hardly removed from the collective that endeared me all those years ago. Where have they changed? Well, despite their great hooks and quirky album tracks The Warning, breakthrough that it was, felt like a band still finding their feet a little, and as a live proposition they were still green. Now, they are the finished product: one of the most inventive bands around, making records that are catchy, but intelligent, poppy but heartfelt and emotional, and somehow still sounding, well, like Hot Chip, even though in any album they’ll cross through five different genres. And live, they’re one of my favourite bands ever. Part of this is down to their development as a live act, whether it’s coming out of their shells as frontman/men, becoming more confident of their sound, honing their work from the studio to the stage much more coherently, and now crossing the tricky rubicon from making an album with synths, drum machines and all sorts, and making that sound heavy live. More of that later.
In reality, they’ve taken a step forward at each album’s release, but Made In The Dark was a watershed: they didn’t succumb to temptation to try and make hits, they just did what they did, with a few more touches, a few different synths, but never moved away from making music they wanted to. That album had more standout tracks – One Pure Thought, Ready For The Floor and Shake A Fist – all the while not treating their fans (old and new) like fools, and making repeated listens bear fruit each time. And One Life Stand was as fully-formed as they’ve got up to now. I love each album and track in their own right, but until Why Make Sense I didn’t know if they’d better it, however much I loved In Our Heads.
But Why Make Sense is a revelation. It’s Hot Chip, undoubtedly, but it just feels like another leap forward. There’s reasons for this – admitted and assumed – but for a band that’s been making records for over a decade, and in that ever-changing electronic/pop arena it’s hard enough to stay relevant and keep fresh. I think Hot Chip have managed it as they’ve never been interested in doing anything ‘cool’, and so they never have to beat anything but their own expectations. But the band’s ever-growing side projects – Al and Felix’s brilliant New Build, Joe and Raf’s 2 Bears, Alexis’ About Group, B&O, Atomic Bomb Band – have clearly let them scratch an in-between-album itch that means each new album means they’re fully focused and also more relaxed at the same time. For a band that have been going so long, (in modern terms for non-rock) they seem still to be the best of friends, and while Alexis and Joe are the hub of the band’s music and lyrics, there’s a gentle creep to a more collaborative ethos that can only be positive. But above all, they still manage to put their finger on the themes that have kept them bubbling from the start – love, friendship, the world they live in, growing old – that they manage to convey in such rich, listenable ways. Why Make Sense combines all of these brilliantly.
Musically, it’s as close to an actual band as they’ve ever been. If that seems throwaway, it’s not. But touring and their transformation into a mighty stage entity, means they wanted to make an album that could translate most directly to a live experience as they ever have. No 5 synth parts, two 909s, three guitars. With regular drummer Sarah Jones and multi-instrumentalist Rob Smoughton (The Grosnvenor) in tow on tour they are able to realise anything in their back catalogue, and their ‘warm-up’ tour this month, which I caught at Oval Space in London, was the best gig I’ve ever seen of them, and I’m well into double figures. Musically, and live, they are on the up, something that’s a rare path when you’ve been making music as long as they have.
There’s so much to love about Why Make Sense, which – to a Hot Chip first timer – would encapsulate everything they’re about as a band. Huarache Lights is an absolute banger of an opener. And all honed around fat leads (and a vocal phrase that can’t but help make me smile about the Happy Mondays’ Hallelujah, was it meant? who cares?) and lyrics that exalt getting ready, and putting on your Nikes. “Machines are great but, best when they come to life, you can’t put your finger on the pulse of the night” comes out of the second verse and is just lyrically as punchy as ever. Yet straight away they’re questioning their place in the world in their 30s, are they still relevant? “Replace us with the things that do the job better”. This song alone makes a mockery of that, but the fact they’ll openly bear such an obvious insecurity in their opening song to a new album just endears them to me even more.
There really isn’t a weak song on the entire album. Every one feels considered, meant, and all fizz with life, energy, emotion and intelligence. Love Is The Future’s staccato beats hark back to their early days, jaunty and lush, with careworn lyrics, until De La Soul’s Posdnous leaps out. Not afraid to get a few friends enlisted if it works. It doesn’t feel frivolous, and it’s a song that Green Gartside’s skills are lent to the string arrangement. Cry For You feels like a cover of a nervous r’n’b record mixed with house music – so much of their roots are in the genre, something that’s always felt obvious and therefore unique to them – but the lyrical and music interplay of Goddard and Taylor’s vocals is wonderful, with the arpeggiated synths and blocky percussive hits proving there’s nothing as simple as a Hot Chip album track.
Started Right is a surefire future single. Flipping from shuffling percussion and funk bass/notes into a mighty string-led hook it’s pure pop, impossible not to sing along to or smile while you’re doing it. But just as they’re wandering into all killer territory comes White Wine And Fried Chicken: a song that no one else could make as well. The title, the sampled vocals, the balladry wrapped up in a modern-day love song. Dark Night follows, arguably another standout track. Where five years ago you’d have had another banger, this is a guitar-led (Doyle’s influence growing as it has done over the past three albums) gem. One of the best tracks I think they’ve written, and leaning to so many of their influences, painted with their own palette. The chorus and walking bassline is sublime, as is a rare lead for Joe’s vocals. It sounds like a slice of electronic, Eno-produced pop that would’ve graced the top ten in 1986, combining their ability to write a great tune, stand with one foot in the past and the present, and write lyrics that invite you in and make you think.
Easy To Get sounds great live (much more vibrant and raucous than this slick love song) – Doyle’s licks to the fore again – and again the vocal interplay between Joe and Alexis is wonderful, at first stripped out, then – much like Started Right – lush layers added on the bridge and chorus. “Why don’t you take a rest, talking something we’ve outgrown”, again taking aim at their perceived age and place in the musical landscape. Need You Now is more proof of the polymorphic nature of their songcraft. I’d listened to it with the brilliant video a few times thinking it was a song about an imagined break-up, but it’s more resonant than that: it’s about terrorism, war, the world that’s just, well fucked up. “Never dreamed I could belong to a state that don’t see right from wrong”. It’s startlingly relevant to the next five years (did they have a bet on the election? it’s not hard to understand given Al’s recent appearance on the World At One, but they are never overt about their themes and the hammer is always in a silk glove) and shows them as a band with a conscience, not just a heart.
So Much Further To Go is as close to something that feels a little unplaced, but its lovely harmonies are a wistful sounding (isn’t that just Alexis’ voice, whatever he sings?) entree to the album’s title track. Why Make Sense – like so many late-album belters before it (think Hold On, No Fit State, Take It In, Ends Of The Earth) – is a tour de force. Distorted guitars and reverbed percussion with Alexis’ voice dual-tracked and strong, it feels as much rock as they’ve done anywhere recently. It lifted the roof off Oval Space, (many of their songs are purposely beefed-up live, and to startling effect) and is almost a mission statement of their career: “Why make sense when the world around refuses? A winner lost is one who always chooses”. Hot Chip have always gone their own way, and if anything Why Make Sense shows they’ve been right from the start. They may never play Wembley Stadium, but you also know they’ve never aspired to that. They are a great festival band without the need to play the biggest arenas, and whatever the setting, there’s an intimacy to their music and lyrics that feels like it needs walls around it to truly resonate (which is why they always seem to blow away Brixton).
This is a triumphant record by a band both aware of and comfortable in their surroundings more than ever before. They may be older, but they’ve matured. They may seem like an outlier, but they’ve always been there, knocking on the mainstream’s door. And they’ve never sounded as good as this. That isn’t a negative on their previous work, it’s a description of just how good Why Make Sense is. It’s rewarding from the off, and I know I’ll still love it in ten years. I can’t wait to see what they’re making then.
Hot Chip – Huarache Lights
New one ahead of their new album. I’m seeing them in May down here and I can’t wait. This is an immense track.
Craig Bratley – Birdshell
I’ve been banging on about this album for a while, so much so that I wrote about it for Pulse recently. It’s just about everything I love about slow-mo, scuzzy disco stuff at the moment. This is Birdshell, which has been around for a bit, but still, wow. Just glorious.
JANUARY: Museum Of Love – Museum Of Love
So, I wasn’t sure what to do for this month, because while I have been really enjoying this album, I honestly didn’t expect none of you to have it yet. Why? Well, there’s a few reasons: firstly, it’s on DFA, where I’ve devoured everything LCD have released, and Shit Robot, plus a few other things like The Rapture, and I know that’s the same for others as well. Secondly, it’s a two-man outfit that contain’s LCD’s rhythm section: Pat Mahoney, and also DFA family Dennis McNany, who’s been involved with anyone from The Rapture, Panthers and Shit Robot. So, that’s a surprise, but not the biggest surprise about this album, not by a long way.
It’s Mahoney’s vocals. Jesus, where have they been for the last ten years? Yes, LCD were all about the distilled elements of the trio: be it James Murphy’s gruff, heartfelt vocals and lyrics, or Nancy Whang’s keys and backing vocals, and then Mahoney’s inimitable, whirring percussion that seemed to be in a state of perpetual motion, even when it was slow and rumbling. But as the final notes of the compact opener, ‘Horizontaltor’, fade, in comes this sound that isn’t like anything I’d have ever expected. I’d actually – unusually – not picked out or previewed any of Museum Of Love’s previous singles, which meant that, despite them being around for well over a year already, I approached this with only a vague thought of what may be in store (synths, some great drumming, something hopefully LCD-ish) armed only with positive reviews from fellow LCD fans.
And this was the problem at the start. I just wanted another LCD album. Of course that’s idiotic, but it’s hard to separate my love for the three-piece from anything that involves any of them. That coloured my first few listens, even though there was a lot for me to enjoy. And then it just clicked for me. So, why? Well, I’ll return to Mahoney’s vocals first and foremost. On ‘Down South’ I thought I was hearing Bryan Ferry. It was a revelation. And just made me wonder why Mahoney’s vocals only ever appeared fleetingly in the background of some of my favourite records. It was pain, heartache, and this great falsetto. It was like my favourite band had included a hidden member I’d never been aware of. And while there are only nine tracks in its spartan forty-two minutes, there’s so much to like here. ‘In Infancy’ is probably the most ‘LCD-like’ track, with its heavily effected chorus vocals and familiar Mahoney percussion shuffle and synth motifs, while ‘FATHERS’ is a gorgeous lament – one of the standout tracks on the albums with a looped, rolling key that makes me think of ‘Home’ every time I hear it – and ‘The Who’s Who Of Who Cares’ leans towards Shit Robot.
Yes, I’m comparing this to other stuff I know, but given the label that’s inevitable. But, and it’s a big but, this is immaterial because Mahoney’s vocal, that gives the whole album its own feel, so in the end, after a few listens, it’s just simply Museum Of Love. There’s some really great stuff to love here – ‘Learned Helplessness In Rats (Disco Drummer)’ (what a title!) has this infectious, watery, drums, and brash chords, ‘Monotronic’ is rumbling, slow-disco vibes, and ‘The Large Glass’ is gloriously ‘out there’, but ‘All The Winners’ tops them all off. Lovely keys, and this wonderful balanced vocal, muddied in a delay. This isn’t an album that I’m infatuated with, yet, but I keep coming back for more and more because the tracks stick in my head and pop up at the oddest times. That’s always a sign of promise.
But, see for yourselves.
FKA Twigs – LP1
The Hype machine is well and truly in motion with FKA twigs. She’s got the Mercury nomination and she’s already proven to be a step forward from the usual ‘next big thing labelled artist. For starters, she’s done her dues, working as a dancer for the likes of Kyliuwith some good and bad experiences lending themselves to shaping the independent character she is. She’s learnt Ableton to produce the bulk of her own work, she’s self-released her first EP via Bandcamp, and had creative control over both her music and videos from the start. Perhaps she’s just a bit older (26) than some of her contemporaries and that’s given her a more realistic worldview, but it’s refreshing to see someone so determined to ensure that what gets out there to represent her as an artist, but in a fiercely independent way, rather than anything as contrived as Gaga.
But what about the music? I’ll add a disclaimer here: I come to this album with curiosity, but also the understanding that this music isn’t likely to light my fire. I’m no pigeonholer, and this is far from the slick R’n’B that lazy jounalists will paint it as. It’s much more than that, with loose structures, odd sounds, clicks and off-beat persusion. Volcas are double-tracked falsetto and deep whispers, drenched in reverb. And then there’s the lyrics. Overtly sexual, and not in a trite way that’s the standard for rap and hip-hop or some more mainstream R’n’B, but really unashamedly gritty and open. That’s caused a lot of buzz, and that’ before you get to the videos. You only have to have a look at her videos, especially Two Weeks, to see that she’s something different.
But is it for me? I don’t know. I’ve listened to the album four times already, and I just don’t connect with it at the moment. It’s an odd mix of sexual lyrics, but woven into a structure that seems cold and detatched. It’s very modern, and from the way the music sounds and is produced, I take my hat off to her for almost pushing against the standard template, even to a point where it will lose her fans or sales, but then that’s what great artists do. She’s some way off that but you have to applaud it.
I’d compare it to Grimes in many ways, an album that many loved but really grated when I first encountered it. I think a lot of the problems I’d had with that album were more around interviews I’d read with Grimes and fond her to be pretentious and irritating. For FKA Twigs, I actually like everything I’ve read from her and about her, but I’m struggling to penetrate it at the moment. Maybe, like Grimes, I’ll listen to it after a break and it’ll gel.
Get stuck in and let me know your thoughts.
thisisnothappening.net 