Audio Journal : 26/07/2010

Okay, things have become a little safe around here. I do this with music. When I feel like I've strayed too far into what I'd describe as 'polite' music, I feel the need to listen to something more adventurous to reset things.

So I listened to a rip someone blogged of the 1993 Harry Pussy 12" 'In An Emergency You Can Shit On A Puerto Rican Whore' (well, writing that will flush out whether my parents are still reading this). Listening to eight of these nine tracks feel like flossing your ears with barbed wire – it's chaotic, messy with over-distorted guitars bludgeoning all else into submission; words can be heard but not deciphered; frantic not-quite-riffs dominate. Then there's the final track; in anyone else's mitts the unlikely punk-fuzz cover of Kraftwerk's 'Showroom Dummies' would sound nightmarish, but compared to the other tracks it sounds positively gentle. In the lyrics to 'Showroom Dummies', the plastic models in the shop window come alive and break the glass in order to escape; Harry Pussy's version is the sound of them grinding the glass under their feet as they step onto the pavement, leaving shards and deep scratches embedded in their plastic feet.

Duly reset, 'In An Emergency...' was followed up with a CD I bought in Falmouth's excellent Jam by Loren Connors (formerly Loren Mazzacane Connors) and Jim O'Rourke. Two Nice Catholic Boys captures duo performances by the two guitarists from European dates in 1997, and consists of three vaguely-monikered tracks ('Paris', 'Or Maybe Koln', 'Definitely Not Koln'). Connors and O'Rourke are titans of the experimental music field (both composed and improvised) and the interplay between them here is quite special. Judicious use of feedback and reverb prevents this from becoming some sort of axe-wielding standoff, and there are brief flashes of staccato rhythm. This was released on the excellent Family Vineyard label from New York. Somewhere in a record box I have a solo guitar album by sometime contributor to The Wire magazine Alan Licht (YMCA), also released on the label; one for another week.

Sticking with the distorted guitar / noise theme, Lou Reed's Metal Machine Trio (or MM3) released a double CD of live dates in LA two years ago and I totally missed it. The trio is intended to draw out the 'spirit' of Reed's Metal Machine Music, released in 1975. Metal Machine Music is a love-it-or-hate-it album consisting of electronically-processed guitar and synth and is mostly ear-shredding noise of the extremest order. At the time of its release Reed was quoted as saying that it was recorded to honour a final album contract obligation.



Since then its reputation has grown among the experimental music fraternity, during which renaissance Reed appears to have changed his stance, claiming it was a calculated piece of sonic artistry all along. He has subsequently performed the piece with Berlin chamber orchestra Zeitkratzer, and MM3 is an extension of the relatively free jazz / improvised atmosphere the original Metal Machine Music evokes. The Creation Of The Universe, despite its slightly over-confident title, is subtle improvisation, mostly; occasional brooding distorted guitar rises up menacingly from the more low-key sections, often heralding passages of fuzzy noise and skronking sounds reminiscent of James Chance from Ulrich Krieger (who also forms part of the Text Of Light trio with Alan Licht and Sonic Youth's Lee Ranaldo). There are chord changes in some sections that had me scratching my head wondering where I recognised them from and then I sussed it – they're the same as final section of The Velvet Underground's 'I'm Sticking With You'. The third member of this free rock trio is Seth Calhoun, billed as providing 'live processing and continuum fingerboard'. Nice.

Others: Sleigh Bells 'Infinity Guitars' (big distorted beats and loud , stuttering, guitar interruptions with shouty female vocals; me like); Screaming Females 'I Don't Mind It' (New Jersey trio do girl-fronted melodic Buzzcocks-esque punk - only marred by needless riffing at the end); The Silver Pesos 'Regresando' (free single from this LA band – dreamy ambient electro-pop with latin flourishes, plus an excellent Youth-esque remix); Best Coast 'Boyfriend' (hazy, Spector-esque boy-girl duo pop; beguiling); Anamanaguchi 'Airbrushed' (zany Yo-Gabba-Gabba-style synth goofiness from New York).

Audio Journal : 17/07/2010

Back at the end of June, Bret Easton Ellis posted on Twitter thus: 'High Violet by The National is the best record I've heard in a year. It's the only thing I've listened to on the Imperial Bedrooms tour.' Consequently, since reading that I haven't been able to disassociate the album from the latest novel by the former literature enfant terrible with this, the fifth LP from Brooklyn five-piece The National.



The mood of High Violet has been likened to the grey, rain-soaked tones of Joy Division. While their music does have an undeniably dense, dark-hued atmosphere, High Violet's aspirations are far wider than Ian Curtis's (ultimately terminal) negativity; a wider sonic palette also broadens the mood. It's closest cousin, to these ears, appears to be the Interpol of third album Our Love To Admire. My favourite tracks are the appropriately-named 'Sorrow' and the motorik 'Afraid Of Everyone', but the whole affair is gloriously bleak.

I've listened to this album repeatedly over the past month; I know it's not healthy to do so, as I found to my detriment with the aforementioned Our Love To Admire. 'Introspection must be sampled in small doses' should be the health warning on such albums. But it does also seem to suit the trademarked air of paranoid detachment of Imperial Bedrooms.

Throughout our holiday in Cornwall, one album that we kept falling back on – especially when the sun came out – was the self-titled début by The Drums; its shimmery surf-pop seemed the logical soundtrack, but I've already waxed lyrical about that LP and don't plan to do so again. The other recent purchase that got heavily played while we were away was the self-titled album by San Diego's The Soft Pack. The Californian four-piece were previously known as The Muslims, and not unsurprisingly were encouraged to change their name.

I'm not sure where to place this LP. No single style seems to prevail, but there is more than a passing resemblance to some of the punky archness of Jonathan Richman and his Modern Lovers, especially in the trio of faster-paced tracks – 'Pull Out', 'Parasite' and 'Faithman'. Those tracks also have a whiff of lo-fi producer Steve 'Big Black' Albini circa his derided (and band-separating) work with Rosa Mota. So, art-punk-grunge anyone? Well worth checking out.

For the journey down to Cornwall we bought some audio books for the kids rather than have them sat in front of DVDs. One of these was the Theodore Geisel – Dr. Seuss – classic Green Eggs And Ham, ably read by Adrian Edmondson, which had us all in stitches thanks to his comic voices and Seuss's rhymes. There's a line in an old Lunachicks song about that book, so I'll be heading loftward to dig that album out in due course.

Others: Kid Savant 'Drawn And Quartered' (electro-infused shoegazer pop, not unlike The XX); The XX 'Islands' (electro-infused shoegazer pop, not unlike Kid Savant); The Foals 'Miami' (like an Avalanches remix of Robert Smith jamming with Happy Mondays); Danger Mouse & Sparklehorse featuring Julian Casablancas 'Little Girl' (in which The Strokes front-man sings over a jangly imaginary soundtrack to a kidnap chase through smoky Parisian pavement cafés); Male Bonding 'Weird Feelings' (shouty grunge pop with Sixties flashes on Sub Pop); Crystal Fighters 'In The Summer' (imagine PWEI soundtracking Manga classic Akira).

It's good to be back.