Post Sounds

KWES ON REPEAT

   

When was the last time you got completely over-excited about a new song you’ve just heard? Not just finding something you like, but being completely and unexpectedly blown away. Usually in these situations I start wailing like Mariah Carey at the top of my voice  (despite not knowing any of the lyrics) and dance like a recovering hip-replacement patient. It’s instant happiness, joy and pleasure. For me at least, not my neighbour.

But it’s a phenomena that is, for some people, becoming more of a rarity. I’ve seen a couple of articles this week which discuss the loss of this sensation. Sean Adams, founder of Drowned In Sound, talked about our obsession with ‘The New’ and how this has diluted the quality of the music being produced/presented. With the overall effect of music becoming a lot more ‘meh’ than ‘OMGGHERGFCKNARHGHGARGHHH!!!!!’, Jason Pierce of Spiritualized spoke to The Guardian of a similar experience. There was one particular quote which I think sums up this debate quite aptly:

“People can have their lives stuffed with music, but that’s not the same as it knocking you sideways and becoming part of who you are. And that’s what I was becoming melancholic about, not music disappearing, but that magical, mystical thing.”

I find it can be quite a listless feeling trawling through blogs, finding songs which you like but nothing you fall in love with. It’s how I imagine people in their early 30s feel when they can’t find someone of ‘marriage material’ so they settle for John in Human Resources. It’s not that I don’t enjoy looking for new music, but there is so much out there it can be hard to find the real gems. Obviously some music takes more time to be mulled over, and I’m not saying instant hits are in anyway better, but there is something uniquely satisfying about music that does ‘knock you sideways’.

However, fairly often, an artist does come by and the hopelessness is completely forgotten again. This is exactly what happened for me with Kwes. He is my favourite new act by a mile and a half. Ever since I read an interview with him a few months back I’ve become a man obsessed. When I first heard ‘Bashful’ I must have played it 5 times in a row and still give it repeat listens today. The same goes for early instrumentals like ‘No Need To Run’ or new single ‘Igoyh’, which gives a good introduction to his sound – a counterbalance of sorrow and hope. The diversity of influences (which run from Garage, Pop, Electronica, R’n’B and more) to his earnest delivery and sonically rich production all hit my metaphorical-musical spot. I have excitedly played it to my flatmates (rammed it down their throats) and tried to find anything I can find by him. Lo and behold, he’s only gone and done a mixtape with Michacu in 2009 and there is a new one of the way! (It’s called Kwesachu. Download here for free.) That’s at least another week of my life consumed by his music. Ding dong. Nor to mention all the production he has done for other artists such as Speech Debelle and countless remixes.

I think there is something to be said that hype and buzz can often take precedence over quality control. It can also be hard to find a blog/publication with a similar ear to your own when there are so many voices that offer you a platform to find new music. But I think the key is to straddle the line between following a variety of different sources for new music but at the same time not feel compelled to listen to everything possible and visit every website.

You might as well live with less music (which is still subjective) but have a greater relationship with it. At the end of the day, music which has been with you for long enough to make you laugh/cry/smile will always be exponentially better than the 10 seconds of respect you get from a hipster for liking some low-fi, chlamydia-infested band from Brooklyn.

Article originally posted on musika.uk.com

http://youtu.be/F5C_Dxt2MiU

Biophilia Balloons

        

It’s no secret that I am a Björk fan. In fact, fan probably isn’t a strong enough word. Obsessive seems more appropriate. My fortunate/unfortunate house mates (depending on how you look at it) have had to put up with me incessantly playing her records and making reference to her work in pretty much any conversation for four years now. I know I should keep quiet, I know I should stop living vicariously through my idol, but I can’t. She’s total Icelandic cat nip to me.

I have the posters, albums, vinyl and have engaged in what we might call ‘fan boy behaviour’ by travelling across the country to see her by myself, and using holidays as reconnaissance missions to gather information (I went to New York last year and tracked down her favourite record store to harass the staff for nuggets of Björk gossip, much to their bemusement). To my utter dismay, she was not there that day :’(

So as you might imagine, I greeted the news of yet another extension of her expansive Biophilia project with due intrigue and excitement. The next release, or releases I should say, are an eight-part remix series including reworkings by Hudson Mohawke, Matthew Herbert, Death Grips and These New Puritans, amongst others. Every two weeks a new instalment will be released on 12”, CD and mp3, starting with Current Value next week. It’s an impressive list and predictably-unpredictable of Björk to choose such a diverse line-up.

Björk has never been one to shy away from remixes – her discography is littered with remix albums – and a quick search on youtube will leave you with enough material to soundtrack a mission to Mars and back. However, the amount of official ones does seem, even for this die hard fan, dazzling yet disorientating. I’ve put the figure of official released remixes for the Biophilia project at 24 now, but there could possibly be more. Not to mention the apps, books, limited edition vinyl and CDs, live shows and educational programs for kids. I’m not so sceptical to say that this is a ploy to get Björk fans to part with their cash but at the same time, it could be argued, the seemingly unending series of reworkings and extras can be distracting from the central piece of the project, the actual album.

I suppose I’m stuck between two camps of thought. The first being can there be such a thing as too many releases in support of one project? It does seem like she has passed the point of saturation for most casual listeners and it can only be serious fans that would buy/listen to all the remixes, apps, book, etc. If my presumption is correct, then what purpose does this serve other than making the artist look a little self-indulgent? I mean, are 24 remixes necessary? Even if we accepted that they are, you can understand why people might question their release in eight individual packages for £3.99 on standard CD to £7.99 on ‘deluxe’ vinyl, instead of a single album for a lot less. If I were being really sceptical, I might say it was to make up for relatively low sales of the original album, but Bjork doesn’t strike me as someone who cares how much she sells.

My second thought is that perhaps more projects like this should be encouraged to encourage artists to play with the mediums in which they release their music. As record sales dwindle, why not play with formats (it’s not like you’re going to make your money through sales anyway)? There is something quite liberating about using apps and extended remix series. It’s as though all inhibitions have been left behind and the process of making art has finally been given free reign to dictate how it is released, rather than concerns about records sales being the deciding factor. Of course other artists have and do play with these formats but it is still not the done thing. This ties in with a bigger debate about the conflict between artist freedom or creative control and commercial viability. Björk has challenged the status quo with Biophilia, not only in the often abstract and, at points, difficult music created but also in the many ways it has been released, so demonstrating new ways to connect with her audience.

Either way, my love of Björk is as unwavering as ever. I will probably download all the editions, fall in love with them, put them on repeat until my flatmates threaten to break my Omar Souleyman remix vinyl. Again. And perhaps Björk will chill out on the remixes in the meantime.

Article originally post on musika.uk.com

What Difference Does It Make?

     

“When they bury me in a church and chuck earth on my grave, I’d like the words ‘Well, at least he tried’ engraved on my tombstone” - Morrissey, on his legacy, Melody Maker, 1987.

Beyond the initial excitement and flurry of re-tweets, reblogs and general fan euphoria, there lays an ever-present discontent about the idea of a band reforming. Often it is the motivation for reforming that causes the most debate. Almost every major band that has got back together in the last ten years has had some question marks over their heads about intentions, which mainly boils down to is it only about the money?

Yet there is another big reason for some people’s gripes about reforming and that is a fear of spoiling the legacy. It’s something I have been thinking about recently after reading a story on NME.com quoting Melvin Benn, Chief Executive of Festival Republic, which runs many festivals including Reading, Leeds and Latitude. Benn had some interesting words to say about the holy grail of possible reformations, The Smiths.

“I think if The Smiths reformed it would destroy their legacy, personally. I’m sure grown men would cry if it happened but I wouldn’t want to see them reforming.”

This idea of a legacy being ‘ruined’ or ‘broken’ is a common one. But, if we really think about it, that notion doesn’t really make any sense. If a band reunites – especially because of the love of their music, their fans or each other – then isn’t this one of the best possible ways to celebrate a legacy? If money is the sole motivation then I understand how the reunion shows could be cheapened, but ruining an entire legacy, years of great music and many memorable moments just because they wanted to play their songs again? I don’t see it at all. How does the physical act of singing to your fans fail the reputation of yesteryear? We have an insatiable appetite for nostalgia, particularly in Britain, and it comes out very prolifically in our culture. I don’t think there is any reason to pretend that we don’t enjoy and encourage this. God forbid if a second resurrection of Jesus happened tomorrow. Melvin Benn would be there, stood in the corner, arms crossed, huffing, bitching about how ‘it will never be like the first time around’.

Overwhelming proof that it doesn’t ruin a legacy comes from bands that have already reformed. Speaking from a fan’s perspective, Pulp playing at Glastonbury last year was both poignant and a magical experience to behold. Men, who clearly saw them the first time around, had their arms wrapped around each other, bellowing the lyrics to each song and jumping up and down like they were 18 again. It was a weirdly beautiful thing to witness that transformation to their former selves and the reliving of memories that were sound-tracked by the band. I can imagine it was a similar experience for the band too. In fact, every ‘reformed’ band I have seen has been fantastic: The Pixies; Madness; The Specials; Pulp to name but a few. Even with The Specials, who reformed without Jerry Dammer, do we really consider the reputations of these bands diminished by reforming? I don’t think so.

It also seems hypercritical of Mr Benn, considering he has booked The Pixies, Pulp, Rage Against The Machine, Jane’s Addiction, The Libertines and Limp Bizkit in recent years as well as securing At The Drive In for this year’s event. His festival in some ways relies on reformed acts to add prestige and exclusives to the bill, which helps him sell tickets, so it would be counterproductive to his job to discourage any potential reunions. A few days after the original Smiths piece, NME ran with another story courtesy of Benn in which, despite knowing how much The Stone Roses will be paid (a fucking shit load, if you’re wondering), he believes ‘no matter how much they got, as far as I’m concerned, it’s worth it’. So maybe money isn’t an issue at all. Or, more likely, perhaps he doesn’t think before he speaks.

Surely there are more imaginative ways to desecrate the legacy of a band: perhaps if The Smiths were found out to be raging paedophiles, joined the BNP, robbed little old ladies in their homes AND then licensed their music for a John Lewis advert (oh, wait…) then we might be getting close to ‘desecrating’ territory. But compared with these examples, reforming doesn’t seem quite so bad does it? Music, almost universally, transcends the actions of its makers. It is too set in a time and a place to be easily nudged from it. So can reforming really harm a legacy? The answer is no.

Article originally posted on musika.uk.com

Festival Season Ahoy!

   

With all the talk this week about SXSW, the annual buzz-band holiday to Austin, Texas, you’d be forgiven for feeling a little out of the loop. Missing out on all the fun and frolics, sunshine and great music. Personally, I’ve been sat in my room pretending I don’t like Jack White, Jay Z and Bruce Springsteen imagining how shit it must be for those poor people to witness their crappy live shows with all those crappy songs, which nobody really likes.

And when I’m done sulking, I like to think of all the great music which will be on offer just round the corner. Yes my glum festival-starved friends, it’s only a few weeks till festival season starts and kicking things off are two dedicated to new music. Proving, if anything, that there is no one quite as good as the British at taking hype and buzz to saturation point.

One of these festivals is Camden Crawl. Situated in the centre of the universe (for British music industry folk), Camden Crawl is a golden opportunity for new bands to prove their marketability to A&R people from all over the world. For the punter it’s three days of long queues, standing in tightly packed venues with temperatures close to those found on Mercury and wild rumours of secret sets and guerilla gigs, which get more and more ridiculous as time goes on. Four days later and there’s Great Escape in the kooky art-student paradise of Brighton. The only real difference between them is a pier, a beach and more seagulls.

Great Escape’s eclectic line up seems to have the edge this year with Grimes set to cause queues longer than those on the M25 when she plays tracks from her critically-lauded album, Visions. Micachu is back with a new album this year and Great Escape will be one of the first places to hear this material from the ever-eccentric and inventive artist. Those making their Escape début include the raucous rock’n’blues quartet Alabama Shakes; Brooklyn hipsters, Friends; melancholic troubadour, Perfume Genius and expect circle pits and skanking aplenty when British ska-punk legends Sonic Boom Six play after a few years away in the wilderness.

By contrast, Camden Crawl’s line up looks a bit thin on the ground. There are a few gems like British hip-hop legend Jehst, the return of The Futureheads, recent Warp signee and just generally amazing Kwes, electronica demons D/R/U/G/S and some rock/soul ditties straight outta Essex from The Milk. The headliners, Alabama 3 and Death in Vegas, don’t really make my head explode with an overdose of endorphins and The Big Pink and Glasvegas could be good as long as they don’t play anything from their new albums. But if I’m really struggling to fill the time I’m sure I will get lost in the markets, again.

Perhaps I’m being too cynical. It is, after all, a new music festival, so of course there will be a lot of acts I don’t know which might be amazing. And even if Camden Crawl does look like the Tony Blackburn to Great Escape’s John Peel, there is still so much to look forward to this year I just might be able to forget about SXSW for at least 5 minutes.

Article originally posted on musika.uk.com

Hoodlums - The Wilmington Arms London

[For some reason this review never got published on a certain website so I thought I would share it with you lot instead]

The quality and depth of pop music over the last decade has significantly raised the bar for aspiring pop artists. You can no longer get by with moderately-catchy. It has to be infectious, it has to possess a unique quality and ideally have some soft of integrity to it. It is the winning formula which the Hoodlums’ single launch at The Wilmington Arms woefully failed to execute. It was more like ear filler for the culturally devoid. An embarrassment to all involved.

Hoodlums sound could be likened to the more safe side of pop á la Scouting for Girls or The Hoosiers. The songs were largely featureless and formulaic. You’d find more bite from a gummy Grandma chewing on porridge. Some songs like ‘Not a Love Song’ demonstrated a more playful and ear-pleasing affair with its Cure-meets-Calypso rhythms and melodies. ‘Summertime Euthanasia’ made good use of a Italo-house style piano riff, but it never strayed into the remarkable. The lyrics were often clichéd and the melodies only vaguely catchy (which is pretty much the nail in the coffin). It wouldn’t hold the attention of the average Radio One listener and it had me wanting to shut myself in a dark room for a few days to try to forget about the whole experience.

But what really angered me more than anything else was the singer. There is a fine-line between an extroverted, flamboyant showman and a narcissistic, intrinsically annoying dick-wad and Lou Vainglorious definitely comes across as the latter. Things didn’t get off to the best of starts. He came to the stage looking like a younger George Michael in uniform Shoreditch attire, waving like a children’s TV presenter with a big chimpanzee grin. I’m sure his intention wasn’t to be condescending but it did look like he was about to entertain the second year class at the local primary school.

Vainglorious gives the impression of someone who revels in their own performances and his confidence therefore comes across as cocky, which given the distinct averageness of the music, makes it severely unwarranted. He mentions that he hopes the next song will be the third single and declares: “judging by tonight it probably will be”. Given the amount of miserable looking A&R guys there, I would imagine he is sadly right. It all came across as a massive ego-fest. The way he struts round the stage, or touches his audience as if it were a blessing from the messiah, yet never is there anything tangibly interesting about him or the music.

It all left me doubting the motivation of the band. Do Hoodlums want to make music for the sake of art or creativity? Do they want to make music they enjoy or that which connects with their audience? Or do they, as I suspect, make music with a view to get signed and get rich? Littering the airways and bargain bins with soulless chunks of audio on the way up. Sometimes the drive for success can produce interesting results. This can’t be said of Hoodlums.