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.

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - August

Holy Goof / Dancer / Jam Sandwich / This Then / RoutineZero

Holy Goof roll Cinematic Hum along at a gentle canter with a strummed steel-string. A sorrowful vocal slides lyrics over the chords like a hopeless ghost-rider, weighted with experience of the broken-hearted. The production honours the performance perfectly allowing this track to sit comfortably alongside the sounds that have inspired it. This track displays a vulnerable shell with its gently moving vocal and light strumming, whilst the propelling snare and blues inflections assure an inner strength beneath its surface. After riding this song, giving aged advice, the narrator conceives to their reality of youthful errors, sympathetically repeating the line ‘all young lovers do.’

Cut up samples of the track title Tryin, linked with a bass and synth, open Dancer’s ode to effort. A crescendo builds halfway through spilling out into a scratchy euphoria. After introducing the characters of this play, including wondrous wood-block-esque samples, our composer expertly delineates a build-section with flair, off-setting the final release with a disarming precursor. The synth pitching towards the end is stretched slightly like an old tape playing back. This aesthetic against an energised pattern creates the classic combination of euphoria and melancholy. Compacting this track to a radio-edit makes the sections feel rushed. I’m sure this mild criticism would be obsolete in the full-length edition.

The aptly titled Jam Sandwich enters with a short bass motif as atmospheric distant synths crackle and fuzz. Percussion like the flickering of butterfly-wings awakens into a break-beat pattern and the bass develops into model phrases. The piece finds its platform halfway through as an electronic piano, straight from the 90’s, unisons quicker riffs with a solidified tertiary bass-refrain before finally reaching a repeated ascending synth riff which climaxes proceedings. Though much of the baseline is unashamedly oneristic, this spectacle grows in the listener, from the feet to the head, until all is praising in the church of movement.

This Then briefly describe a walk by a church in the first verse of Sierpinski. The narrator, with his rich North-East accent, vaguely hints of a realisation from a painful experience, though what exactly is left indistinct, as the remainder of the track takes us instrumentally through minor motifs whilst a steady programmed beat repeats without distraction. Subtle spring effects in some of the guitar and drum parts add colour to the very basic hooks. The title seemingly references a mathematically satisfying triangle that contains subdivisions of itself. Perhaps the outline described in the lyrics is the outer wall of the subject and as listeners we are asked to imagine the details?

My. Word. #Rare is a hundred Red Bull’s deep, power-marching to a brassy shrine of lust. There is a lot of crude sweat perspiring from RoutineZero’s brash sonnet, from the aggressive vocal delivery to the dismissive categorisation of something the protagonist finds special. With every word of cliched flattery and ham-fisted observation our lyricist seeks to raise positive punches to the sky. The sound uses the angles of Kraut-rock but negates the optimism of that movement by folding the sonics into a commercial format and using them only to carry a song that revels in reducing rare to yeah!

This month’s Demo of the Month is Rave Tape’s measured blend of jazz and rave. Jam Sandwich is perfectly paced in its elevation from glimpses of phrasing to a full-on endorsement of dancing, all supported by tasteful mixing of carefully selected sounds. It is refreshing to have a submission that appreciates the jamming of elements for their own sake without a further motive. 

[2014.06.13] for NARC Magazine

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - July

Six Billion Stories / Rise / Phase / FrekeQuenzi / The Peers

With its pulsing bass and ernest vocal, not to mention the palm-mute electric-guitar arpeggios at the bridges, Six Billion Stories would be the perfect accompaniment to a night-time drive with the engine at full-thrust. This recording, however, defines demo with a capital D and although the songwriting has clarity, it trips over its production into the ear. A touch more practice before hitting the record button would have secured the parts more tightly against the rudimentary drum machine pattern. The slap-bass fills in the choruses get carried away in their own excitement and though such technique might elate gig-goers, here they cut through clumsily.

As Rise enters with a roaming harmonic-minor scale which is then elevated by dynamic string samples, the innocent might imagine such gravitas would be laying the carpet for lyrics with a heightened idea, but, although the track seemingly serves to politically stimulate, the language employed in the verses offers pop-intellectualism, suggesting perhaps their group name should be read ’think HIP-HOP’ not ‘THINK hip-hop?’ They do not ‘turn an average beat into a symphony’ as boasted but their message is honourable and energy cathartic. Though the choruses use the first-person pronoun, there is a generosity tangible in the spirit of the track appealing for its listener to respect themselves and live freely.

Phase’s song Amethyst creeps across the ears like an arachnid’s silhouette; a king of fear. Thanos Grigoriou’s vocals snarl over slow mixolydian chords as brutish drums march the beast forward. Though the purple stone of the song’s namesake traditionally protects against intoxication, the various distortions colouring the mix, as well as overlaid discordance, creates the effect of the nemesis. The bass enforces these tensions using surprising notes to underlay the chordal harmonies before falling back to the root. The track recoils in a swirling break before a thrashing snare reignites the rage to the finish.

FrekeQuenzi offers us soft, fuzzy, retro-house with Terror Of The Groove, with all the terror of a McCoy crisp, but still groovy! When a rich distorted synth plays with syncopation and the beats’ centre halfway through the track, this straightforward effort is lifted into more interesting territory. Working in a genre that endorses the concept of infinity, I am grateful to the composer’s decision to submit a 3:39 minute edit, however, the ending splash is a crude stop-sign. If a piece of music must end arbitrarily, please make it a bullet-speed assassination leaving the ear searching for the original spirit in the now-silence.

The Peers jingle and jangle in the bittersweet summer air! Off You Go’s faultless production realises an extremely focussed direction, dead-centre down that road; very pleasant, but leaving us sixpence none the richer. The verses maintain the listeners focus by holding a protracted fifth chord with added suspensions before rewarding the ear with Perfect Cadences. Lee Armstrong’s vocals coolly outlay the lyrical sentiments, mixed tastefully with an edge of warm microphone distortion. A slick guitar break followed by a repetitive coda sequence brings the song home efficiently.

It is unfair to compare a solo bedroom-studio effort against complex projects involving a team and multiple stages of production, and this month’s submissions originate from these disparate worlds of support, but the end result must be my only guide, and this month, it is Phase’s revelling in magnitude with their track Amethyst that warrants the most attention. From the weighty metal riffs, to the spacious reversing acoustic instrumental; from the ghostly chorus harmonies to the intense arabic strings, this track charted a great panorama.

[2014.06.03] for NARC Magazine.

Little Dragon - Nabuma Rubberband - Album Review

Between their last record, Ritual Union in 2011, and now, Little Dragon have worked with some prestigious collaborators on some unique side-projects. Their singer, Yukimi Nagano, supplied vocals for some tracks by DJ Shadow, and also, the band and Big Boi co-wrote the more successful efforts on his Vicious Lies & Dangerous Rumors record. This May, they deliver their fourth LP, under the enigmatic title of Nabuma Rubberband. When pressed for its meaning in an interview, Nagano said 'It could be a person; could be a state of mind... whatever you want!' 

Nabuma Rubberband moves slowly and heavily into the room with the smokey opener Mirror. The song charts a blue romance, and over this unchanging yet menacing landscape of sound, Nagano's vocal range is instantly highlighted as she explores wide-ranging pitches and tones within it. The next installment Klapp Klapp uses a four-to-the-floor snare to shake any prejudice that this album has a singular notion. Throughout, the creativity behind the percussion seems stemmed from heartbeat rhythms: the undulating pulsing in Pretty Girls, the slow, cavernous thumps of Cat Rider, and the higher-demand-for-oxygen beats in Only One. The articulation of each track's movement and Nagano's winding vocal are the celebrated forces in this record, with additional melodic instrumentation being used for fleshing atmosphere. At times these textures yearn for instrumental exploration outside of traditional song formatting.

On the whole Nabuma Rubberband is more somber than its predecessor. There are welcome moments of ignition (Paris being a particularly revitalising shot at the midway point,) but even with those, the flow of the playlist feels clumsy and leaves the album in search of a natural resolution. 

The chosen cover art for Nabuma Rubberband depicts a little girl seemingly flying in a misty sky above a wasteland, in front of a dreary cityscape. This seems an apt pairing to an album which sketches elements of imagination whilst never truly freeing them from predictable habitats. Across the playlist, there are nods to 90's dance-halls (the parodic segue Lurad) and House music (Paris) but these heritages are never fully unleashed out of the realms of pastiche. A live environment would nurture and celebrate the moods of these songs more fully, but the cool capture of these recordings, although true to the medium with the gentler songs, castrates the dynamic possibilities of the more lively.

[2014.05.29] for NE:MM Online Magazine.