Philip Selway - Weatherhouse - Album Review

At the end of July, Radiohead’s exceptionally creative rhythm-maker Philip Selway released a new song from his up-coming second solo LP release; the anthemic Coming Up For Air. As our anticipation for this record grew, all of a sudden another of Radiohead’s Republic surprised us, releasing their own second solo LP this September, ahead of Selway’s, but in spite of this timing, these diverse projects will not steal attention from one another, for they both serve as special and unique offerings to the Autumn of 2014.

Selway’s debut in 2010, Familial, was a modest acoustic-guitar driven record, with melodies and juxtaposing chordal changes that set the listener’s ears on a path to fill-in the possibilities for what fuller arrangements might sound like. Four years later, and our composer’s ambition for the orchestration and sonic landscape encompassing each of his new recordings is much greater.

Weatherhouse is an apt title for this album, suggestive, amongst other things, of the more luscious textures and seasonal atmospheres dressing these new tracks. Along with realising each composition through its melody and arrangement, a track-to-track focus on the space and room each occupies gives a further level of distinction to the experience this time around. The song Let It Go marries its theme of tormented sleep with a constant and distant rattling bell. Other parts rise in a mist around the vocal melody like the waves of thought keeping our subject awake. In Don’t Go Now, the acoustic guitar sits dry and solid at the front of the mix, whilst vocals and strings are rapped in thicker air. As lyrics are disclaimed, the textual disparity metaphors the distance between the lover in the distance and the loved in the foreground.

This further solo release also clarifies the ideas that Selway brings to and enforces in Radiohead’s communal songwriting. The descending vocal melody line along with the lyrics in Ghosts strongly reignites memories of Exit Music For A Film. The cyclic eternity of the drum pattern in Around Again speaks to the energy and paranoia of his band’s Hail To The Thief era, employed here for his more existential study.

From his long-time involvement performing music, and the accolades he has received for his contributions, the effects Selway employs on the production of his vocals in these recordings would appear a stylistic choice rather than one used to cover a lack of confidence in his abilities. In Coming Up For Air a smooth fuzz veils his natural voice, and often, on the songs that follow, reverb heavily soaks his serenades. The vocals are just another part of the orchestra in these arrangements, and the use of these effects to frame them more intrinsically in the complete sound helps remove any possible perceptions of a vocalist leading the march. The song is always the thing, not the performer. 

Weatherhouse is a collection of some beautiful melodies, supported tastefully with intricate arrangements. With a history of being involved with creating music that has re-evaluated the landscape to which it was born, audience expectations for what Selway releases are unfairly extreme. Embracing Weatherhouse with the hope of unheard timbres, or unusual postmodern concepts, would be to misdirect the focus from what is to be enjoyed from this characterful album. These songs are united by their gentle centres and their arms outstretched to the listener. His voice, though wide-ranging in pitch, is often delivered calmly and softly, welcoming the listener rather than waving for their attention. Thematically the songs are held together through their exploration of the harder sides of the relationship between a You and an I.

Being a part of an incredible ensemble does not necessarily dictate that, operating separately, you can offer a rounded voice and work of value. In Philip Selway’s case, however, a class shines from his solo music that simultaneously convinces the listener of his intrinsic relevance to what Radiohead make, and also to his bravery as a musician, who, in spite of his achievements and commitment with that collective, takes time to stand apart from them, to explore his creativity elsewhere.

[2014.09.24] for NE:MM Online Magazine.

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - October

Slow Moving Targets / Chased By Badguys / Neolithic / SkyRush / Ilser

Our singer at Slow Moving Targets uses a combination of nonchalance and primal assertion to relay his kitchen-sink observations in Dirty Knees, a bluesy seduction letter. Earthy sexuality is order of the day; from the song title and accompanying EP cover-image to the primitive use of pentatonic riffs and raucous singing. A tight, slim production is preferred and works particularly well with a percussive breakdown section involving hand-claps later in the track. The lead vocals go from a droll patter relaying description to wild cries of desperate profession, ditching diction when touched by the full-moon. 

A sweetly naive keyboard part introduces Ghost by Chased By Badguys before an acoustic guitar overtakes the progression with the chords plucked to keep a pendulating beat. The forced vibrato of the lead singer’s vocals whines sharp against the gentle backing instrumentation, and although the attempt at conveying unrest and passion in his voice is noticeable, the effect is grating. A tape-recording sample is presented at a critical point in the song as a poignant document, but anything other than hiss is unplaceable to the listener, leaving the reason for it inclusion unclear. The instrumentation is tastefully arranged from the start, right through to when the narrator’s resultant loneliness is conveyed with the track concluding with nothing but synthesised strings repeating a refrain. 

Life’s purpose seems somewhat tarnished to the folks from Neolithic with their twenty-four minute dissertation, Born To Suffer. At volume, this recording serves meditation on the weight of life, offering a sound consistent to the usual dimensions of the Drone genre. The instrumental parts, shifting tectonic plates with their might, have been well captured. When the vocal screaming erupts from the noise, it is well articulated above the booming. Lacking any major idiosyncrasies, the adjective Neolithic in the band-name perfectly describes the compositional level of development in Born To Suffer, where the rudimental possibilities of each instrument’s sound is sufficient to achieve their muscular purpose. This track chants anonymously alongside the congregation of its church. 

Why Me? is a simultaneously excitable and anxious indie-pop song by SkyRush lyrically orbiting a protagonist’s vulnerability and resilience. The bass riffs cut through the electric-guitar and drum noise lushly, providing a central personality to an otherwise messy sound. Garry Benns sings his words with a brave conviction though a natural fragility accompanies each phrase. At the choruses, a sweet harmony tenderises the lyrical sentiment. An alternative ending to the arrangement would serve this song well, as the current rallentando-drum-fill-pow feels rather cheesy outside (and one might also argue inside) of a live situation. 

Rachael Whittle’s wonderfully bending voice slowly twists through Ilser’s moody grunge-rock ode. Out of the creeping, Last Chance explodes in the choruses, thrusted by the bass-drum and power chords hitting nearly every down-beat. As the format dictates, a guitar solo breaks after the second chorus and mixes moments of brilliance with awkward stumbling. The words seemingly outlay a prayer to a saviour but serve a more threatening gesture as the song develops. Unfortunately, at climatic points, Whittle holds some sustained notes out-of-tune and the clear production does not protect the singer’s fallibility here. 

Though I am not the bee for this flower, Slow Moving Targets and Dirty Knees deserve the top spot in September’s Demo of the Month for their clarity of songwriting and its execution. They uphold the spirit revived by Sheffield’s favourite simians with rock ’n’ roll at their centre and a song mixing dry wit and documentation of a localised existence.

[2014.09.11] for NARC Magazine.

Jenny Hval & Susanna ‎– Meshes Of Voice - Album Review

Meshes Of Voice is a fascinating collaboration between Jenny Hval and Susanna Wallumrød. This album represents their first recorded album together, but the way in which these premier Norwegian talents merge leaves terms like ‘debut’ or ‘first collaborative album’ redundant in spite of that language being technically accurate. This offering is whole; with its imagination relevant to a past tradition, a present mystery and a future vision, honouring the quality of its muse, the enigmatic 1943 film, Meshes Of An Afternoon by Maya Deren.

Both Hval’s and Wallumrød’s vocal talents are uniquely exquisite but, by the strength of their complimentary aesthetics, form a melodic hydra that characterises the heart of these compositions. Each instrument added to the orchestration feels like an embellishment to these rich voices, which duet as if they have been trained as twins from birth. Wallumrød’s fuller tone often leads in the mix, but the expression is a united force, with Hyal’s edgier voice fleshing the thought; sometimes in unison, sometimes with simultaneous alternative patterns and repeating phrases. 

The traditional instruments used are mixed within a narrow texture, highlighting their timbre and influence in the sound. For example, As O Sun O Medusa wilts into A Mirror In My Mouth the transition, although seamless for other sounds, is recognisable for an acoustic guitar quietly assuming the waves of the new section’s (new track’s) arpeggios. Towards the end of Thirst That Resembles Me, a zither strikes unexpectedly out of a hypnotic repeated refrain. It’s crystalline quality is made particularly delicious to the ear as the arrangement presents it with such import. The music never travels too long before the listener is treated to a new idea, whether it is a new sound element, technique or phrase. 

Equally as important to the overall expression as the melodic and instrumental choices is the use of reverberation, noise and distortion. These effects are treated as instruments in their own right, building intersections and links within the construction of the tracks. Whether prominently crashing into the sound hard, with unruly guitar feedback (as in Black Lake,) or isolating the vocals in a numbing thick air, (as inThirst That Resembles Me,) the application of these qualities is less to colour an existing part, but to register with the listener as a part in its own right.  

Hval and Wallumrød explain that mythical creatures, particularly those that spoke to womanhood, were a large inspiration for this record. Though this could naturally lead to a conceptual piece, the result goes even further into the theatrical paradigm for its structure, characterisation, and symbolic lyricism. Droplet, with its calm meditative loop brings us into the album’s world, the house lights are faded to Black Lake, and the story begins.
The track, I Have Walked This Body, builds in its sonic texture whilst the lyrics chart a journey ever deepening. This sense of layering is similar to the film which, too, shows characters (or versions of a character) repeatedly approaching and entering a house several times. The acrobatics that unfold from the duetting voices in this particular track quickly destroy any expectations and limits that the listener may have presumed early into the programme; we are in the presence of magicians and their itinerary is vast. 

Repetitious motifs are drawn upon throughout the lyrics of Meshes Of Voice, much like the visual devices in the film; the knife, the flower and the disconnected telephone. Honey Dew, Milk and Bones are symbols that reoccur organically within Hval’s and Wallumrød’s lyrics and get re-evaluated in each new appearance. The contrast of sunlight and darkness are constantly exposing the nature of the oral testimonies. The penultimate track welcomes a dawn; an unveiling light. Having been set loose from a ‘Heart like a Black Lake,’ the album finally returns to that image as it closes, this time, sung with an ignited enthusiasm by Hval, delivering the lyrics in a wild incantation. The songwriters cite Athena, Medusa and Harpy as characters of particular interest in this study. Their examination is made painfully intimate by lyrics including first person confessions, characters working out their nature against the elements and their experience of the world. Any innocence is certainly fermented by the time this record finishes.

There is little relief within this emotional experience, and at fifty-plus minutes of sound, these intense expressions would rip apart the weary. However, the fluctuation in the tone and mood of each portion of this cycle formulates a playlist with all the necessary angles and curves to recharge energy in the listener to brave the more tumultuous chapters. This record is the result of a deep curiosity, explored by brilliant minds, and interpreted into a wild creation by uncompromising composers and performers. Meshes Of Voice is a triumph; simultaneously a mystery and a key. 

[2014.09.07] for NE:MM Online Magazine.

Slow Decades - The Frost & The Concrete - Album Review

Our Imaginary Friends have been quietly accumulating a great number of exquisite pop songs to their portfolio over the years, but until now, we have only been able to enjoy them performed live. From the 15th September, this will no longer be the case, as our band, recently renamed Slow Decades, release their debut album - The Frost & The Concrete.

Confetti starts the record as if it were the closing track to the end of a movie; a brave final scene where all conflict is resolving in embers. This piano-lead ballad, with its aching minor-sixth chords, stoically resists defeat as our troubadour charts betrayal. The final lyric exposes a previous conjecture that our narrator’s situation “won’t get [him] down,” and as this moment reveals fallibility and vulnerability, cushioned in the tenderness of the music, as listeners, we are offered up an open heart, and asked for our empathy. 

Pulling the curtains back and setting the record in full flight is The Chaos, a track previously unveiled, with a surreal video courtesy of Sean Gaw, in anticipation of The Frost & The Concrete’s release. Its driven pace and unrelenting full-band orchestration underscores descriptions of social awkwardness and barroom frolics. This uncertain course is braved by our singer for beauty.  

Ben Lowes-Smith’s voice cuts richly through the mix across this record, whether softly singing in the depths of his natural baritone or weeping a falsetto melody amongst flocking arpeggio accompaniment. Through subtle changes in delivery, Lowes-Smith draws further complexity to lyrics already filled with poetic humour and symbolic description. The lyrics are often sympathetic to the trepidatious steps of the youthful and romantic, in particular illuminating some of the struggles that face young men. In A Boy Your Age (one of the stand-out tracks from the album) the lyrics come as advice from an older friend; a girl or woman who is sensitively managing our narrator’s clumsy development into adulthood. By hearing about his behaviour from her perspective, a more acute criticism of our subject is shown. By the care and consideration taken to observe such detail and express it within the lyrics, the listener is invited to try to understand the characters motivations and the humanity that they display. 

As the record moves swiftly from each three-minute song to the next, it is understandable, upon a first listen, that you might interpret these songs as musically simplistic because they are instantly engaging and leave strong vocal melodies repeating in your mind. However, many unique countermelodies are modestly entwined within the textures of these tracks, often courtesy of Paul Gardner and Gary Cameron on various instruments. This sensitive layering and supporting characterisation shows the dedication to fully interpret the song and that no instrument is superfluous. Upon various repeat listenings, new parts draw the ears attention. 

The momentum of the playlist is excellently judged, interspersing bounding tracks like The Chaos, Real Men and the intriguingly titled Margaret Bad Boy alongside more somber tracks. The album adventures through a great deal of scenarios at a fast pace, but reaches its emotional apex with the song Hesitation. This heartbreaking track shows a character, stripped of confidence, rationalising their rejection against their own self worth. The electric guitar is strummed timidly, whilst a sorrowful clarinet melody wanders lonely between a wilting voice and a weary rhythm section. Our End follows and offers a gentle pause after the devastation. This instrumental is the morning light leading us home away from the confusion. Whilst the penultimate track Television shows our singer’s concerns with his solitary habits and supermarket wine, Home For The Weekend, with its perfectly-judged loose beat, stumbles our weary traveller home and to the safety of his bed. 

This album has been a long time coming and has been constructed over many months, but this time has not been wasted, and the resulting recordings are those of fully-honed pop gems. Some of these songs have been loved and given life at gigs for many years and time has now granted them a place on this very special debut. It is the organic result and generous gift of musicians living and breathing the music that they love.

Slow Decades will be performing at The Mining Institute on 6th September 2014 in celebration of this debut release. They will be supported by Blackflower and Ettrick Scott. Be there to listen to these beautiful songs reverberate with the spirits of this beautiful hall. 

[2014.08.17] for NE:MM Online Magazine.

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - September

The Pastures / Morpion / Red Pools / Fleckt Pets / The Rt Hon King Of The Cosmos

The Pastures’ ponder the eternal questions with Ball & Chain. Two rock-steady acoustic guitars, a bass and a faithful cajon drive a melody sung with a West-Coast drawl. The evenly plucked arpeggio inversions and melodic chordal shifts in the verses ignite memories of the Crash Test Dummies’ transcendent hit whilst the tightly wound harmonies in the chorus look to a future-hope, like in Dispatch’s The General. The lyrics are delivered as if from the perspective of a wise-man, and ponder existential tribulations. Each of the many thoughts are started without further exploration or conclusion, which, when delivered so authoritatively, sound more pretentious than humble. The lead guitar solo is expertly delivered and after a final chorus leads the track into a Hotel California-style outro.

The artist categorises Grip as a track made ‘post-Burial,’ and it certainly provokes speculation as to whether they are organically influenced or riding within the trails of a sound now popular. Morpion’s submission starts as a hard and wonky power-walk through the heavy air of a vacant underground tunnel-network, interrupted by a repeating shout of ‘hey’ in the ever-distance, before a tremolo synth sweeps the track up into a more mechanical and intensified environment. Paranoia and unease are traditionally achieved with samples of language, distorted and broken enough not to be accessible.

Slow shifting progressions materialise from a cold distorted frost in the first part of Red Pools’ soundscapes. We are introduced to reverberated stones clicking and samples of inaudible radio conversations as the prominence of the chordal aspect of the sound increases in volume and intensity. Senseless I climaxes with chains rattling and a squeaky toy before the chords fade into a rough rumble. A sample of a male voice repeating ‘seven’ and tapped typewriter keys link us to Senseless II which is built-up over a regular thrusting bass-drum beat.

Fleckt Pets are staring frustration straight in the eye realising that they ‘can’t live with you, and [they] can’t live without!’ Tight clean Fenders are strummed and flicked across an off-beat hi-hat drum pattern, and all instruments are played with the unashamedly unrefined delivery of the punk-tradition. Our singer snarls spoken sentences for the verses, fighting for attention in the mix whilst pointing criticism at the subject of his torment. At the choruses, he is supported by backing-shouters as they all repeat the catch-22. Can’t Live is charming for juxtaposing spiritedness against futility.

Jet-packs are set to full-blast as we meet the people who covet the superior ranks in the Cosmos. With If I Was In Charge Of The Red Button We’d All Be Dead it would seem perhaps it is not so good to be King. Consumed by a fear that everyone is out to get him, our singer wails observations in support of his panic over grungey riffs until a wild wah-wah solo rips up into proceedings. A repetitive chant of ‘It’s in me, it’s in me, it’s trying to kill me’ builds towards the track’s final reprise of the main riff. All in all, a lot of gas in the tank, but no clear direction. 

Can’t Live by Fleckt Pets is September’s Demo of the Month. It is joyful in its simplicity and the result compliments its inspiration. Though, like all of the submissions this month, Can’t Live sits firmly within the expectations of a popular genre, the immediacy and passion of Fleckt Pets’ performance felt the most sincere and generous. This song is a gift for the moment; a simple catharsis, less for the mind, more for the body.

[2014.08.14] for NARC Magazine.

Electric Würms - Musik, Die Schwer Zu Twek - Album Review

Wayne Coyne and The Flaming Lips have always put experimentation first, and use their creativity as a vehicle for discovery, even if the new ideas interrupt a popularity with fans achieved from the previous endeavour. Recent behaviour confirms this mandate is as strong as always. From diverse projects such as making a film, and releasing an album that covers Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club in its entirety, who knows what could be next? Shortly off the back of releasing their Beatles homage, Coyne and Stephen Drozd take a romantic stroll away from their Flaming Lips bandmates to join with members of Linear Downfall to produce a brief but characterful side-project, all joined under the notion that they are tunnels through the galaxies - the Electric Würms.

Musik Die Schwer zu Twerk certainly covers a lot of moods within its short thirty-minute life-span, and augments our sense of time. I Could Only See Clouds hypnotises immediately with a repeatedly descending drum fill around the kit which disorientates your gravity as the high pitch melody meanders. Wild chords stab the texture along with contrary bass patterns, trying to shake the motion, but the spirit perseveres. Futuristic Hallucination immediately transforms the listener’s environment. Down this rabbit hole, smudgy keyboard chords cycle through the sonic panorama, creating a feeling of discomfort before falling into the clearer, but no more comforting, path of The Bat. The pulsing bass of this march bulges in the mix, carrying a weary chant siting timid observations. 

Living signals a new act in the journey, materialising from a pregnant pause with a more optimistic and upbeat drive, subtly alternating a quantised beat with a skipping hi-hat. This central track of the record ignites colours of Kraftwerk as its additional sounds shimmer as they rise and relent, like mountains and valleys through which a vehicle traverses. The vocal this time is abducted into a fused blend with a paralleling synth sound. Transform!!! shows self-awareness in every way as it injects the remaining energy into the final scenes of the record, sheading the feeling of a travelling momentum for a sense we are at our destination, gyrating amongst the parade of psych-funk. 

Ultimately, this adventure concludes with a glistening cover of the YES song, Heart Of The Sunshine. By including this tribute on the record alongside their mostly impressionistic jams, Electric Würms seem to celebrate music as a transitory expression with MDSZT. Rather than it being a flag claiming a forever place in the memory, which, their tremendous pop-amalgams at the turn of the millennium were, this recording acts as one unrelenting ride to be immersed in at each ever present moment. Once something has occurred it is gone and replaced with the new sensation. Even the title of the collection itself is a joyously tossed remark; a wink to a divisive popular trend and like the record, absurdly here until the next episode. 

Both The Flaming Lips and Linear Downfall have always been committed to creating immersive live performances. Witnessing The Flaming Lips unbound in their true nature at one of their expansive and colourful sonic-carnivals casts a suspicion that the album-format may no longer be a fair representation of what they have to offer. Previously logistical and economic limitations for distribution may have made such an output the way to spread the radiation of their colour. Now, with technological advances, multi-media tools are more readily accessible to create with, the resulting formats are also affordable to distribute, and those same formats are more easily accessible by fans. The Flaming Lips’ Zaireeka experiment showed an understanding that their audience, with an encouraged sense of communal attitude, could bring together sound systems to play the four disks of the record simultaneously, as per the direction of the artist. With their song release Found A Star On The Ground, The Flaming Lips exploited the limitless duration possibilities of a digital format by creating a solid six hour experience. Both themselves and Linear Downfall are known to dream far and long into the distance. With MDSZT their first few happy steps together are witnessed.

[2014.08.11] for NE:MM Online Magazine.

Jenny Lewis - The Voyager - Album Review

Blessed with a rich, silken voice, Jenny Lewis has worked hard, carving a career writing sensual and hypnotic songs, often dressed in sparkling lyrical and melodic irony. From her original output with Rilo Kiley back in 1999, Lewis came into her own (supported by The Watson Twins) with her debut solo album Rabbit Fur Coat, released in 2006, which resonated for its strong sense of concept and more focussed arrangements. Now in 2014, after many detours and side-projects, we are treated to her third solo record, The Voyager. 

Immediately, attention is drawn to a change in production values as the opening track Head Underwater shimmers like a blazing sun on the water of a guitar-shaped swimming pool. Where as the angles of the electric guitar sounds on her previous releases I’m Having Fun Now (as Jenny & Jonny) and Acid Tongue (solo) twanged in the rawness of a dryer, as-live production, here, they are melted into a reverberating California-fresh pop scenery, like a modern pastiche of Tom Petty’s sound in the late eighties. The songs throughout maintain a slickness. Slippery Slopes has a lead electric guitar that bends nonchalantly with the vocal melody. The drums in You Can’t Outrun ‘Em shift the song at a cool raised heartbeat. The baby colours and the stars of Lewis’ jacket on the cover image forewarn the encompassing vision for the mix of the album perfectly.

Lyrically, Lewis charts troubled times and unsettled relationship issues of the past over progressions and melodies full of optimism. In She’s Not Me our confessor reveals the hurt in the surprise of discovering that her lover had been unfaithful. A similarly dissolving relationship is considered from a different angle in A New You with Lewis giving the subject a character assassination over the chirpiest of I-V-IV progressions. Also in this song, Lewis uses a throwaway opening lyric to speculate that this personal separation was foreshadowed by the 9/11 attacks. This example of hyperbole perfectly demonstrates her unique blend of sarcasm and vulnerability. Although the text spelling in the titling of Love U Forever aims at this similar humour, it sits a little conspicuously amongst the other titles. 

Her voice is as charismatic as ever: from the slow drawling in Just One Of The Guys to it reaching held high-notes in the title-track. The switching from a sweet light-lilting delivery in the verses, to the sultry low-whispering in the choruses of Late Bloomer marvellously illuminates a path from innocence to experience in that song’s lyrical content. 

The Voyager is a very seductive record, packed with songs whose melodic personalities sit comfortably and quite distinctly beside one another. Acid Tongue felt more ambitious for its variety of lyrical and sonic content, not to mention its adventure in song-structure, which leaves this follow up journey feeling more like a cruise than a Columbus exploration. In the same way that with 2007’s Easy Tiger, Ryan Adams brought a pop-concision to the structuring of the album, following records with more variety in pacing prior to it, here, producing Lewis’ latest, he has brought that spirit to her work. The ten songs flow without resistance and the album concludes swiftly long before any diminished interest, but also without curiosity wanting to tug back on the lead. This album adds a wonderful glow and colour to her canon, and may its release free her for an investigation further from her songwriting comfort zone next time.

[2014.08.04] for NE:MM Online Magazine.