Audio Journal by MJA Smith : 22/02/2010

Go to: My Other Blog :: Documentary Evidence :: twitter.com/mjasmith

We watched the movie Once (2006) at the weekend. A modern-day musical set in Dublin, it presents a week in the lives of the un-named lead guy (Glen Hansard from Irish band The Frames) and girl (Marketa Irglova). Hansard is a hoover repair man writing folksy songs and busking in his spare time while trying to get over a break-up. Irglova is an Eastern European immigrant who happens to be an exceptional pianist. After a chance encounter and over the course of the ensuing week she instils a level of faith and confidence in Hansard's songs, adding piano and direction to his songs, and ultimately encouraging him to recruit a band of fellow street musicians and to take a small loan to finance a weekend recording session. It's a simple, yet highly effective film; more of a documentary or extended music video, and is principally a vehicle for Hansard's emotionally fraught songs which are somewhere between the frailty of Damien Rice, the depth of Talk Talk's Mark Hollis and the rapturous peaks of Arcade Fire's Win Butler. Irglova on the other hand has a fragile, delicate voice best heard on the classically-informed ballads she performs here.



I don't think I've ever downloaded the soundtrack to a movie while I've still been watching it, but such is the pull of songs like 'When Your Mind's Made Up' and 'Lies', songs filled with disappointment, negativity and an emotional depth that's hard not to warm to absolutely. Hansard also lightens the mood with the wry Loudon Wainwright III-esque 'Broken Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy' and the lo-fi synth pop piece 'Fallen From The Sky'. Great movie, great soundtrack.

While our two daughters were eating dinner at the weekend, and desperate for a break from The Wiggles on constant repeat, I grabbed the only iPod which was handy, which happened to be Mrs S's. Doing this always fills me with dread as it's in major need of a tidy-up, and also my music collection is significantly under-represented therein. So I stuck on Phil Spector's Sounds Spectacular (1974) compilation, which I recorded from my parents' vinyl copy. The songs are obviously familiar from any other Wall Of Sound compilation, as is the distinctive Spector sound, but we noticed that the transfer from vinyl gave the songs a much richer warmth and authenticity more befitting the songs than the comparatively clinical re-masters on the infinitely more expensive Back To Mono boxset. An obvious point to vinyl aficionados, I know, but one which struck me unexpectedly in that moment. And that reminded me that time was when I used to mine the Smith record boxes each week to turn up some long forgotten vinyl purchase to write about in this blog; I must start doing that again.



On a rare tentative visit to my least favourite music shop, HMV, at the weekend, I was suckered into one of their periodic 'two for a tenner' deals on CDs, and walked away with Bad Lieutenant's Never Cry Another Tear. Bad Lieutenant is a three-piece band consisting of sometime New Order guitarist Phil Cunningham, Jake Evans and New Order / Joy Division / Electronic front-man Bernard Sumner.

A sticker attached to the shrinkwrap proclaimed that 'this sounds more vital than anything New Order have done since 'Crystal'', which irked me somewhat. 'Crystal', undeniably a great track, was on New Order's penultimate album so in terms of making out that this is a return to some sort of classic period New Order sound the scope seems torridly short-sighted in its range. Typical NME.

Still, what is correct is that Never Cry Another Tear is brilliant. More akin to the second two Electronic albums (Raise The Pressure and Twisted Tenderness), with plenty of acoustic guitars and genteel lyrics, the album also finds time to throw in Power, Corruption And Lies-era synths on a few of the faster-paced songs. Sumner shares vocal duties with Evans while Stephen Morris adds drums to a couple of tracks, and Blur's Alex James drops in on bass duties occasionally. The album was released back in October of last year, and I'm annoyed with myself for not buying it sooner, especially since it's reminded me just how much I love Sumner's voice.

Audio Journal by MJA Smith : 15/02/2010

Go to: My Other Blog :: Documentary Evidence :: twitter.com/mjasmith

While tidying up the office, I came across a single by a band called Nemo from 2003 entitled 'Piccadilly In Sepia'. Nemo, which does sadly rank (in a post-Disney sense) as among the worst band names of all time, developed out of another band (Spectacle), some of whose members Mrs S went to school with. The lead track is a precise slice of authentic electronic pop that could have been released anytime between now and 1984, its chorus of 'Piccadilly in sepia / We are naked on the underground' containing the sort of Nitzschean attempts at seriousness that littered a number of classic 80s tracks, although the idea of us all being starkers on the Tube is somewhat disturbing. For all its lyrical faults, 'Piccadilly In Sepia' is a brilliant, brilliant and sadly overlooked synth pop gem.

I caught the DLR into the City at the weekend. The driver-less trains always remind me of the track by Komputer 'Looking Down On London'. Komputer, a duo of Simon Leonard and David Baker were formed out of the anarchic electronica act Fortran 5, ditching the amusing Orb-esque samples in favour of Kraftwerk synth purity. In doing so they headed back to their roots as synth duo I Start Counting, whose two albums (Fused and My Translucent Hands) were underground classics. If you sign up to Komputer's mailing list, you get a free mini-LP to download (Intercom), containing five tracks of icy, retro electronica.



If Komputer, in adopting Kraftwerk's electronic template, are retro in their aspirations, Raymond Scott's music could be described as pre-retro and authentically pioneering. Scott, who was variously a classical and jazz musician, moved into electronic composition and synth module development with his Manhattan Research, Inc. enterprise in 1946. In the process he developed new instruments which would go on to inspire the likes of Bob Moog to develop their own, genre-defining synth kits.

Arriving at a time when electronic composition was primarily the domain of scientist egg-heads and Hollywood sound effects departments, Scott's diverse synthetic palette found an ideal home as the backdrop for futuristic TV and radio spots in the 1950s and 60s; a compilation of some of these commercials and other Scott pieces was released as Manhattan Research, Inc. by Basta in 2000. Scrape your way past any kitsch connotations from the use of spoken sales pitches for bygone products and visions of a wonky future from the likes of the Bendix Corporation, and what you're left with is sixty-nine tracks of elaborate electronica that directly prefaces today's pop flirtation with synthetic sounds.

Audio Journal by MJA Smith : 08/02/2010

Go to: My Other Blog :: Documentary Evidence :: twitter.com/MJASmith

Earlier this week I took a listen to Poppy Nogood And The Phantom Band, a 1968 piece by esteemed and influential minimalist composer Terry Riley. Riley, a member of La Monte Young's Theatre Of Eternal Music, along with Marian Zazeela, Tony Conrad and a pre-Velvet Underground John Cale, left the dronescapes of the Theater in 1965 and carved out his own niche as a composer.



Poppy Nogood And The Phantom Band consists of five pieces, all segued together seamlessly into a single, evolving piece. Layers of arpeggiating horns and fat synth tones add colour to what is a shifting, deep soundscape that has similarities with In C (1964), Riley's most famous composition, but with perhaps less of that piece's abundant euphoria. Poppy Nogood And The Phantom Band is an altogether more atmospheric and menacing composition, occasionally brooding but intensely fast-paced in its shifting sounds.

From the minimalism of Riley to the dub-inflected sampleadelica of Renegade Soundwave. Renegade Soundwave first emerged from the dark depths of South London in the late 1980s, releasing tracks such as 'Biting My Nails' and 'Probably A Robbery', songs which were based heavily on borrowed sounds with a gritty, knowing savvy and occasional bursts of urban humour. Their first album, Soundclash dropped neatly into the late 80s love affair with the dancefloor; it was followed by a companion dub album which dumped some of the pop elements in favour of a raw edginess otherwise hidden under the surface of the parent album.



The latecoming follow-up, 1994's Howyoudoin? took the Soundclash ethic and added seriousness and guitars, producing the strummed guitar-dub classic 'Renegade Soundwave' as well as one of the most malevolent bad-trip tracks in 'Blast 'Em Out'. Howyoudoin? was also followed up with a dub companion, which again pared the tracks back and added new dimensions. After that, nada. Renegade Soundwave famously fell out with their label and despite a valedictory 2CD compilation, all but bit the dust. Gary Asquith from the band co-runs the label Le Coq Musique, and I'm hoping to interview him for Documentary Evidence soon.

McCoy Tyner's Tender Moments was released in 1967 on the Blue Note label, still the coolest jazz label in the world. Tyner is best known as the pianist in tenor saxophone legend John Coltrane's classic quartet (alongside Elvin Jones on drums, and Jimmy Garrison on bass), recording the watershed album A Love Supreme and Coltrane's sublime take on 'My Favourite Things'. Tender Moments might sound like a collection of mushy piano tinklings perfectly suited to the run-up to Valentine's Day, but it's anything but. This album is a fine collection of intense but accessible jazz workouts, interspersed with sprinklings of ruminative piano. 'Utopia', for example, has an cinematic grandeur that wouldn't sound out of place on Bernard Herrman's final work for the movie Taxi Driver. This album would serve as a suitable entry point for anyone looking to get into Sixties jazz but not yet patient enough to go all-out improv.

Audio Journal by MJA Smith : 01/02/2010

Go to: My Other Blog :: Documentary Evidence :: twitter.com/mjasmith

I find myself struggling to think what to write about this time around.

I suppose I could write about the new Nitzer Ebb compilation, In Order, which was released a couple of weeks back as an iTunes exclusive. Nitzer Ebb were exponents of a type of music which was often described as 'industrial' but was more accurately described as 'electronic body music'; effectively, it was a very aggressive form of synth pop as espoused by the likes of Front 242, Cubanate and early Die Krupps; Nitzer Ebb, from Chelmsford in Essex, were lumped into the same bracket, though they derived more influence from their more successful Essex brethren, Depeche Mode, whose Alan Wilder produced their seminal 1991 album Ebbhead. They released one more album (Big Hit), before imploding, finally getting back together last year for a tour and a new album, Industrial Complex. In Order was an attempt by their former label (Mute) to compile a huge chunk of their B-sides and remixes into one mammoth 60-track download-only compilation.



Listening to that this week is one of the principal reasons for not knowing what to write. With 60 tracks to digest, it took me pretty much the whole of the week just to get through it. Suffice to say, it's brilliant, but I was a fan already and so was inevitably very biased. I'll spare you a track-by-track account of its highlights, but few tracks have – for me – come close to the incandescent rage of the live version of 'Getting Closer' from the 'Godhead' single.

I could also mention the new single from New York's White Rabbits, 'Percussion Gun'. This is a track that needs to be heard to be believed, and I've attempted to describe why this song and this band are so exciting in my small Documentary Evidence review. Cick here to go there. Once again, it highlights the seemingly infinite number of bands to emerge from the New York / Brooklyn / Jersey area. As someone said, go to Brooklyn Heights and throw a stone in the air, and chances are it'll hit someone in a sleek and essential band from the area.



Both of these things aside, probably the best thing to grace these ears in the last week or so was equally the most unexpected. My friend and colleague Martyn found ourselves in Heidelberg, Germany on a work trip, and decided to head out for dinner in the town. We chanced upon an excellent little traditional pub, wherein, over beers and authentically rustic German fare we enjoyed pianist Rudi's versions of German standards and the odd Broadway show tune to appease we tourists, all delivered with pomp and aplomb at the pub's old upright Joanna. Of course, you had to be there, and the music is almost entirely indivisible from the setting and the experience, but take it from me, it was brilliant. Read more about Roter Ochse here.

Audio Journal by MJA Smith : 18/01/2010

Go to: My Other Blog :: Documentary Evidence :: twitter.com/mjasmith

I was originally going to write about the CDs I was given for Christmas, but someone told me that they were fed up with me writing about David Byrne, Ryan Adams and Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore. Plus I'm keeping the comments on the excellent new Githead album (Landing) and the compilation of Nick Cave and Warren Ellis film scores (White Lunar) I was given by Santa for the Documentary Evidence website.

Instead I'll write about Contra, the follow up to Vampire Weekend's eponymously-titled album. The teaser track 'Horchata', which was given away free last year and which opens the album, provides a clue to the overall sound of Contra – odd little rhythms, elliptical lyrics, African percussion sounds deftly-deployed synths and sweeping strings. It's certainly a positive progression on Vampire Weekend, and certainly avoids any of the second-album hang-ups that beleaguer lots of heavily-hyped bands. Lead vocalist Ezra Koenig masterfully delivers his David Byrne-esque (whoops) lyrics with an occasional lilting edge that comes close to Paul Simon.



My personal favourite track is 'Giving Up The Gun', which has a shimmery, luminescent summery feel to its bold pop strokes; but it also embodies my only criticism of this album. It's not its genre-defying musical skittishness; after all their New York musical contemporaries like MGMT and Dirty Projectors, and forebears like Talking Heads (whoops again), have made it their sound business to restlessly hop around the musical landscape like they own the entire sonic spectrum. No, it's more the fact that this album is far, far too optimistic and fuzzily warm for this time of year. As criticisms go, I guess that's not bad. On the strength of Contra, 2010 is going to be a vintage year for music.

Back in the summer I mentioned a New Jersey band called Real Estate, whose 'Fake Blues' single was on heavy rotation for a good few weeks on my iPod. Real Estate's debut album was released by the low-key Woodsist toward the back end of the year, and was perhaps a couple of months late in coming since, like Contra, Real Estate is way too cheerful for the bleak weather we're having here in the UK.



Best described as a more lo-fi Fleet Foxes, Real Estate combine brushed cymbal-heavy percussion with delicate filigree guitar sections and the sort of dreamy melodic hooks that makes the whole alt. folk axis so appealing right now. Martin Courtney's vocals are delivered with an air of cursory, otherworldly detachment on songs like the opener 'Beach Comber', while instrumental tracks like 'Atlantic City' propel themselves forward with some of the most innocently beguiling guitar sections you'll probably ever hear.

The same can not be said for Pat Metheny's ominously-named Zero Tolerance For Silence, an album whose title probably passes the fabled Ronseal test in saying all you really need to know about what's contained on the five tracks here. For me, this out-of-print 1994 album has a near-mythical status. I first borrowed the CD from my local library, and was initially attracted neither by Metheny's guitar dexterity nor his vast and prolific back catalogue. It was two things – the photograph of a neon striplight on the sleeve (don't ask me why; it just appealed) and a typically enthusiastic display of gushing praise by Thurston Moore (whoops; I swear that wasn't planned) on a sticker afixed to the case.



Zero Tolerance For Silence is a challenging listen from the off. Metheny, a jazz guitarist by trade, here delivers five tracks that have much in common with Sonic Youthers Moore (that just keeps happening!) and Lee Ranaldo's excursions into free improv the world over. When I first heard it in 1994, I wasn't ready for the ear-shredding sonic onslaught that Metheny conjures from his electric guitars, and so I never made a recording. Since then my musical tastes have broadened ('worsened'?) and I have tried to track this down for the best part of a decade. Essential music for anyone interested in the locus between total punk anarchy and free jazz.

And look Neil, I didn't mention Ryan Adams once. Oh, actually...

Audio Journal by Patrick O'Donnell : Ned's Atomic Dustbin, 02 Shepherd's Bush Empire, 20.12.2009

Go to: My Other Blog / twitter.com/mjasmith

This week's blog comes to you from Patrick O'Donnell, with a review from the Ned's Atomic Dustbin concert at the O2 Shepherd's Bush Empire last Saturday.

"Dan Dan the fast drumming man, Alex plays one bass, Mat the other, Rat does the guitar, and Jonn sings". As it was in the beginning so it was on Saturday night at the 02 Shepherd's Bush Empire. The recently restored original line-up of Ned's Atomic Dustbin took to the stage to celebrate their 1991 début album God Fodder.

"Kill... your... television," Jonn spits at a decidedly older, balder and fatter crowd than the song was originally aired to as the band rip into their most famous track and album opener with trademark energy. The crowd responds in kind as the 'Lunatic Magnets' (Ned's Fans' moniker) roll back the years and a surging mosh pit ebbs and flows across the packed venue.

Having your 'crowd pleaser' as your opening track could be bad planning in other circumstances but Ned's stay true to the original listing and a knowing audience loves them for it. They tear into 'Less Than Useful' and 'Selfish' before a typically reticent Jonn pays a customary "cheers" to his adoring fans.

Ned's had in recent years played reunion gigs and even recorded new tracks with a new guitarist and second bassist but the return of Rat and Mat makes the occasion even more special. Mat was always the voice of the band and the most energetic and was clearly enjoying reliving happy days. The crowd seems to jump with him as fan favourite 'Grey Cell Green' kicks in and when he tells the audience he didn't "expect to be playing these songs at forty" a nostalgic note hovers in the air as the fans and band unite in a sense of history and belonging.

Next up is 'Cut Up', followed by 'Throwing Things' (surprisingly no one does) and 'Capital Letters'. The youngest of the late Eighties / early Nineties trio of 'Stourbridge Scene' grebo bands, Ned's always led contemporaries The Wonder Stuff and Pop Will Eat Itself in the t-shirt stakes and the Lunatic Magnets had squeezed into their faded favourites for the occasion. And by this point in proceedings, t-shirt after t-shirt moves through the air as IT consultants re-learn how to crowd-surf.

The excitement peaks with best song of the evening, 'Happy'. Aptly named and expertly executed.
Ned's finish off with 'Your Complex', 'Nothing Like', 'Until You Find Out', 'You' and 'What Gives My Son?' before heading off the stage with a big "thank you" from Jonn. The album track-list blitzed through in 35 minutes flat. Inevitable chants of "you fat bastard" ring out (maybe invoked by Les "Carter USM" Carter's support slot) as the crowd tries to coax the Fantastic Five back.

They duly oblige and Mat takes to the mic again, explaining that we are to be treated to "some other songs that would have been toured with God Fodder, hope you enjoy them". No fear. This is like a 20-year sober heroin addict enjoying another hit.

'Terminally Groovy' is first and gloriously energetically out of the blocks, followed by other B-sides and associated tracks 'Aim', 'Plug Me In', 'Bite', 'Flexible Head', 'Faceless' and 'Trust', and neither the band nor crowd relents. Which is why it seems poignant as they slow things down to end with usual curtain-closer 'Titch'. It gives the band and their fans a moment to reflect on what just happened and revel in a mutual respect.

Having been to see The Wonder Stuff flawlessly air their 1989 album HUP to 4,000 fans at the 02 Birmingham Academy on Thursday, followed by this early Christmas present from Ned's, it's easy to see why the bands from that rich pre-Brit Pop era are cashing in on the reunion circuit. There is a deeply-held affection for bands that give their all, have personality and are an antidote to the waves of manufactured and conformist rubbish that has followed.

In a disposable age when bands seem to come and go too easily, today's young Turks could do worse than take a look at Ned's, one of the Nineties' most underrated bands, who, thanks to years of touring and learning their craft, are, twenty years later able to enjoy a sold-out gig with adoring fans. Somehow I doubt Scouting For Girls will find themselves in the same position. Kill your television? I would gladly if I could go to gigs like this every night of the week.

Setlist
Kill Your Television
Less Than Useful
Selfish
Grey Cell Green
Cut Up
Throwing Things
Capital Letters
Happy
Your Complex
Nothing Like
Until You Find Out
You
What Gives My Son?
---------
Terminally Groovy
Aim
Plug Me In
Bite
Flexible Head
Faceless
Trust
Titch

Audio Journal by MJA Smith : 21/12/2009

Go to: My Other Blog / twitter.com/mjasmith

I have two other music-related projects aside from this here blog, one of which – my Nominal Musics label – sits in a state of permanent hiatus. The other, Documentary Evidence, my unofficial Mute Records tribute site just sit there, waiting for me to get around to turning some much-needed attention toward it.

This post will, eventually be about the Depeche Mode concert I attended at the O2 Arena this Wednesday; but before we get there I'm going to spend a bit of time telling you about Documentary Evidence.



Documentary Evidence grew out of a simple passion, that passion being for collecting records; specifically, those releases on a label called Mute Records. Following a particular artist, or genre, is fairly commonplace; following an entire record label's output is the exclusive reserve of a particular niche of train-spotting record collectors, yours truly included.

Mute Records was started by Daniel Miller in the late 1970s, quickly establishing itself in the post-punk anti-corporate, independent musical landscape as the place to go to get your fix of leftfield electronic pop and more challenging, noisy music. Miller himself released several records in the early days of Mute, including the very first release as electro-punks The Normal with the JG Ballard-referencing 7” single of 'Warm Leatherette' and 'T.V.O.D' (see my review here); he also hinted at one of his ambitions by recording quirky synth pop as Silicon Teens, a fake group consisting of Miller and an array of analogue synths covering Fifties rock n' roll numbers.



Mute's future was assured when Miller signed Depeche Mode to the nascent label, securing Miller's first hits with their second and third singles, 'New Life' and 'Just Can't Get Enough'. No sooner had Mute established itself than Depeche Mode's core songwriter, Vince Clarke, quit the band just as they were gearing up for a lucrative US tour. Just as things looked to turn sour for Miller, Clarke formed Yazoo with Alison Moyet and, after a few abortive side projects, Erasure with Andy Bell, while Depeche Mode continued to develop a dedicated fan base in the UK and abroad, and Mute went from strength to strength.

The success of bands like Depeche Mode and Erasure allowed Miller to recycle the label's profits into developing artists from other, more esoteric areas, such as Nick Cave – a cult figure who has only comparatively recently has gained more universal recognition – or Laibach, or Nitzer Ebb and countless other examples of bands operating just underneath the collective consciousness of the charts (see here for a less-than-complete list). The label reached a new level of success with Moby, whose Play was arguably the biggest success the label had scored (with the exception of Depeche Mode's albums), quickly leading to Miller's label getting snapped up by EMI and ending that particular stage of one of the UK's longest-running indie labels.



I had a resolutely pop music upbringing; the first band I really, really liked was Erasure. I've said it before, and I'll say it again that I still think the duo of Vince and Andy are still the best synth pop duo there has ever been, knocking spots off those irksome Pet Shop Boys, but I'm biased. Less logically, I also have Erasure entirely to thank for getting me into the wider Mute roster, and sub-pop music generally.

I bought my first 12” single, 'Chorus' by Erasure in the summer of 1991, from Woolworth's in Stratford-upon-Avon. As I took the black vinyl disc from its sleeve, a square pamphlet fell out. That pamphlet was titled 'Documentary Evidence' and something about it fascinated me; it was basically a brief biography of Mute Records by The Wire's Chris Bohn (writing as Biba Kopf) with a full list of all the releases that the label had put out up to that point. With the exception of Depeche Mode, who up to then I didn't really like, and Renegade Soundwave I hadn't heard of any of the bands listed in the booklet; I had no idea at all that music was made that didn't appear in the charts; I thought I must have just missed them or not taken any notice.



So from that point on I began avidly collecting releases from Mute, both new and old, and I'd say conservatively that 75% of my entire record collection is made up of bands and artists connected to the label. It got me into punk (both US and UK), noise, techno and rock and has cost me an absolute fortune over the years. So it was in 2003 that I decided to set up a website specifically as a tribute to the label, and I decided to call it Documentary Evidence.

Documentary Evidence contains biographies of Mute's artists, reviews of releases and live performances and occasional interviews with artists or people connected to the label, including Barry Adamson, ex Human League / Heaven 17 member and Vince Clarke collaborator Martyn Ware and Wire / Githead front man Colin Newman. I've barely touched it in the last eighteen months, but that will change in 2010 with a new interview and plenty of new reviews and biographies.



To kick things off I've added a review of the Depeche Mode concert at the O2 Arena last Wednesday, which if I remember correctly was what I said the point of this blog post actually was. You can find it here. Feel free to look around the rest of the Documentary Evidence site.

Next week's blog will be written by my good friend Neil Cullimore. Audio Journal by Neil Cullimore will feature a review of Ned's Atomic Dustbin's gig at the O2 in Shepherd's Bush as well as an interview with Jonn from the band. I'll return with more musical ramblings in 2010, as well as news of a new and totally gratis Nominal Musics release.