The Real Tuesday Weld
The London Book of the Dead
August 28th, 2007
Six Degrees
London Book of the Dead is a noir dream. When met with heavy eyelids it imagines a world of midnight blacks and Jessica Rabbit reds. It emotes the warmth suffered under the lights of a burlesque stage, and the nostalgic chill of a near empty bar—dimly lit for the sake of confidentiality. A symbiosis of electronic accents and vinyl imperfections, this dose of art and sex isn’t so much conceptual as it is invocative, shuttling between clarinet swing and sampled sound bytes. I can’t help but imagine that Stephen Coates considers himself a fan of Matt Johnson’s eclectic style. Although this should come as no surprise; both men are clearly influenced by the myriad of soundscapes carved from the social soil of the early to mid twentieth century. It is a project that reaches back to an already immortal era to inflict the markings of post-modernity on what some would claim to be the golden age of music. It refuses the paradigmatic egocentricity of generational degeneracy. The jazz/rag era was not the end of history.
London Book of the Dead is medicated schizophrenia. Among the collage of gypsy strings, cabaret, and Brit pop, Coates sometimes sounds as if he is trapped in a Steamboat Willie world, contained by a two-dimensional, cartoonish fantasy. The record’s most manic moments can be uneven and discomfiting. But if the project is properly understood, it reveals a beautiful and sentimental creation that acknowledges the compromises we make against our own character and the distance we are from our idealized life. Self-inflicted wounds are often the rule rather than the exception. The music of London Book is dense and rich with acute attention to detail. The textural mapping of electronic beats over organic instruments is not necessarily the newest approach to music making, but Coates is effective nontheless. While every song on the record may not be appropriate for every mood, every song has its proper context; and in that context it succeeds, sometimes with stunning perfection— often a most gorgeous sedative.
Other Music
At The House Of The Clerkenwell Kid- 2001
I, Lucifer- 2002
Les Aperitifs et Les Digestifs- 2004
The Return of the Clerkenwell Kid- 2005
“Dreams That Money Can Buy”- 2006
At the End of the World- 2008
The Black Ghosts
The Black Ghosts
July 8th 2008
IAMSOUND Records
Theo Keating and Simon Lord formerly of The Wiseguys and Simian are a British duo that has coalesced to form The Black Ghosts, an energetic outfit that seeks to rejuvenate the transatlantic electro-rock scene. The fuzz pulses and snappy beats have a decidedly disco structure that proves independent pop does not have to be relegated to those who feel what has worked on the dance floor for decades must be reformed or reinvented. Pop, no matter the budget and marketing power of its label, can still be easy and pleasurable.
That being said, The Black Ghosts‘ self titled record certainly has moments that resemble various outputs from The Faint, but they have not taken their independence as a requirement to lower the fidelity of their dance tracks. This record will not remind you of anything brought to us via The Rapture. Indeed much more polished influences can be inferred, Prince and Jamiroquai to name a couple. Keating and Lord have entrenched dance pop into a context much more analogous to their new wave predecessors, instead of accentuating the punk roots from which many early 80’s pop acts claim their heritage, and which might have scored them more brownie points with some in the media.
It is worth noting that Blur’s Damon Albarn does guest vocals on Repetition, and that the album is full length, which these days means at least 10 tracks. The record comes out July 8th and is sure to make a good impression on dance floors across New York City. For those who typically enjoy an evening at the discotech, The Black Ghosts are sure to please. If, like me, you traditionally despise such outings, you might still give them a listen, even if only to gauge all the ironic possibilities.
Los Campesinos!
Hold on Now, Youngster…
April 1st 2008
Arts & Crafts
If Kids Incorporated were to return to the pop cultural radar screen, they would blip to the tune of this unabashedly juvenile band. Los Campesinos! are a group of 7 Welsh youths that have generated what could turn out to be the future prototype for indie pop, or their fifteen minutes may have passed so fast that their influence came and went before the record ever hit the shelves. Hold on Now, Youngster… is a collection of high energy multi-instrument explosions that have been in the works for the better part of 2 years. It is without a doubt one of the most saccharine records I have ever heard. But to its credit, Hold on Now, Youngster… induces excellent spirits as well as that ever elusive urge to dance. It is contrived and trite, sung poorly, harmonies and violins out of tune with the shallowest appeal to be described as punk rock. It is like seeing a 3 year old with a Mohawk on the hip of a Prada draped mother. That having been said, perhaps their naivety is their most attractive aspect.
If Kids Incorporated fails to return then Los Campensinos! should seriously consider their own show. The assembled appearance and style found everywhere from their scratched out and then rewritten lyrics in the album art, to the deliberate branding of their name in their music videos. Hell I even received a baggy of mini-pins with their logo all over it when I bought the record. Their lyrics are clever enough and the instrumentation is really interesting. But there is a youth factor that has been to good effect exploited by bands such as Tokyo Police Club and Born Ruffians. However Los Campesinos! have formulized the attitude and spiked it with a little overt Go! Team Britishness, truncating the ultimate appeal of their music. Another exclamation point? Despite of all of this nose thumbing, Los Campesinos! succeeded in making an extraordinarily fun and energetic record, which complicates much of the criticism levied.
The Duke Spirit
Neptune
February 4th 2008
Shangri-La
This British five-piece has influences from all over the place, but their special spark endows their music with a sort of badass fascism. The Duke Spirit’s Neptune is tinged with retro late 80’s/early 90′s British invasion guitar riffs and is speckled with the occasional My Bloody Valentine noise wall and Jesus and Mary Chain backbeat. Even so, their subtle homage does nothing to discount their definition amongst the myriad of chick fronted car wrecks that have plagued so-called indie rock bands for a while now. First off Liela Moss’ voice has a seductive working class quality. She sings about love and loss with equal commitment. But this ain’t no one lady show. The fuzz bass and crunchy guitar make their style incredibly voluminous, cradling Moss’ words. Each part does not compete with the other. The strong personalities within the band do not self destruct.
“When nothing’s fluid, you drink yourself through it”
The solidarity in purpose that The Duke Spirit displays is however tempered and relegated by their inability to transgress multiple contexts. I can’t complain, but what else are they good for besides a good time? At times Liela Moss sounds like Sheila Nicholls with thigh-highs and a neat whiskey. Fortunately, even with all the abundant emotion, The Duke Spirit never attempts to be deeper than an afterthought. Neptune describes a life where two weeks is a million years and problems last only as long as you are consciously able to think them through. This band has toured relentlessly and certainly deserves attention. The Duke Spirit might however be doomed to burn out before they fade away or even worse to transform from an exciting fascination to that drunken bitch that never leaves you alone. But I’ll love them for now.
Other Music
Darling You’re Mean EP- 2003
Roll, Spirit, Roll EP- 2003
Relieve the Distressed EP- 2005
Cuts Across the Land- 2005
Covered in Love EP- 2006
Ex-Voto EP- 2007
Tour
May 7th 2008 @ Conan O’Brien- New York, NY
May 8th 2008 @ Crystal Ballroom- Portland, Oregon
May 10th 2008 @ The Troubadour- Los Angeles More Dates on Myspace
After lengthy discussion and little in the way of certitudes, we know that The Tuss is from England, is on Rephlex, and is very good. Plenty of people from We are the Music Makers, a site dedicated to acid electronica innovators like Richard D. James and Square Pusher, have their opinion as to who The Tuss actually is, and I have certainly had my thoughts on the matter. As I concluded in my article about The Tuss Cult, no matter who The Tuss is, the music deserves to be evaluated on its own merits, rather than some supposed or implied association with a master programmer.
The Confederation Trough EP was actually harder to get than I anticipated. I finally found a copy at Other Music in Manhattan. I noticed that they filed the EP under “Miscellaneous T” instead of Aphex Twin as they had earlier. I am not sure if this speaks to Other Music’s changed opinion on the matter, either way RDJ and Brian Tregaskin both be damned.
Confederation Trough is a great supplement to Rushup Edge, a Tuss LP also released in 2007, but it by no means matches it. Rushup Edge made many top 10 lists last year including Frederick Foxtrott’s with Rushup I Bank 12 serving as a perfect example of its greatness. There is nothing on Confederation Trough that is as smart or intense as what is offered on the LP follow up. The beats are danceable and quasi-accessible enough, but it is a softer, smoother collection more reminiscent of Aphex Twin’s earlier ambient work and his later Analord series.
Being that the collection is rather straight forward, it acts as a prelude to what would soon be released on Rushup Edge. As I mentioned, Confederation Trough is hard to find and can be a bit expensive, costing $10+ for three songs. Fredugolon 6, Alspacka, and Gxi Solo may seem too mundane for those out there who love brainy acid, but they are good tracks that will have an easy time finding their way on to your play list.
Other Records as Other People Aphex Twin
Selected Ambient Works 85-92 (1992)
Selected Ambient Works Volume II (1994)
I Care Because You Do (1995)
Richard D. James (1996)
Come to Daddy (1997)
Windowlicker (1999)
Drukqs (2001)
Analord 10 (2005)
Chosen Lords (2006)
After a decade-long hiatus, Portishead will release their third record in late April. I was very glad to have had the chance to listen to their new material. At first I wasn’t won over. I went back and listened to 1994’s Dummy and 1997’s self-titled release to contrast where this band has come from with where they are going. It occurred to me that when everyone was listing to Portishead in the States back in 96-97, the band bridged many genres. Their fan base was rooted in so called trip-hop, but had cross-overs from house, goth-industrial, psychedelia, hip-hop, fem-rock, and of course the precocious indie-kid prototypes. You had Alanis Morissette lovers coolly bobbing their head to the beat while standing next to dudes named Wraith with eyeliner and facial tattoos. Portishead had cast a wide net when attracting fans.
When speaking of Portishead, suits working in Manhattan have exclaimed, “Ah yeah, I remember them. I love them.” When listening to their new genre bending concoction Third, remember their predicament in reclaiming an audience. Fond memories aside, can Portishead produce anything relevant to reverse their fans’ genre dispersal or attract new listeners who may not have been around for their first two records? Portishead has answered with a resounding yes.
Third opens with a series of tracks that remind us of their dark experimental heritage. Silence, Hunter, and Nylon Smile are in the best sense traditional Portishead, albeit without the emphasized vinyl mixing. No where on this record will you find the turntable scratching of Western Eyes or Only You. Clearly Portishead is not trying to recapture elements of their past. The lyrics are depressed and relaxed, sexy and sad, and in true form this relaxation is not brought on by contentment or happiness, rather it sounds opiate induced. It conjures the image of a dim room with the yellow haze of a poppy parlor. Hunter would be a great song to accompany the opening credits of a modern 007 film.
Rip begins the next series of songs on the record that emphatically asserts Portishead’s attention to modern music trends. A simple acoustic guitar track transforms and builds into a song layered by Nintendo quality synthetic melodies and a straightforward beat. Plastic follows, reintroducing their DJ aspect, but with a decidedly electronic component. The beat and melody line from We Carry On oddly enough seems like something right out of Trent Reznor’s library. Not to suggest that they have become derivative or unoriginal. Conversely, this only highlights the changes in texture and instrumentation that Portishead have made. The series ends with a beautiful track called Deep Water that lasts all of 1:39. It is the musical antithesis of what has come to be expected from Portishead, yet it strongly maintains their aura with the sensuous voice of Beth Gibbons, a ukulele, and the faint backup vocals that hum like a distant steam engine whistle.
Portishead has made an exceptional record that is unconstrained. Earlier records attracted a large following utilizing a relatively consistent and unique formula. Portishead was Portishead. As mentioned earlier, they attracted listeners from a variety of musical subgroups, but they operated within a fairly rigid structure that defined their unique style. Ten years later they have offered a record that is unabashedly multifocal and multimodal. Look out for juxtapositions like the industrial electronics of Machine Gun and the psychedelia of Small, two songs from the latter half of the record. It is this exhibition of range that makes their new music so sweet. Portishead has engaged their audiences outside of their standard form without pandering or over extending their vast talent.
