There are many bands whom I love, admire, and obsess over in equal measure but who’s albums I very rarely listen to from end to end. The concept of the LP is, for me, the ultimate expression of pop music as an art form, and most of the reviews on these hallowed pages focus on how albums flow and work end-to-end, so in that light my opening statement here might seem a little out of character. To hear individual tracks in isolation is to miss out on the context: you miss the dramatic ebb and flow that long-form music allows; the rise and fall of dynamics, textures, and tension over the course of some twelve or so songs is not something that one gets to appreciate in this world of “shuffle” and iTunes and mp3s. But every cloud, as they say…
One upside of digital music libraries is that they allow the determined album-listener like myself to create the albums that should have been. Acts like Ryan Adams, The National, and Bright Eyes (all of whom I love intensely) seem unable to fill any of their records with 100% good music*, but each of their “best of”s would be contenders for the title of Best Collection of Songs Ever. None of those acts has yet to release a “best of”, but thanks to the joys of iTunes playlists I can construct them for myself.
The Divine Comedy has always been one of those select group of acts that fall into this category. Quite a few of my all-time-favourite songs have come from the quill of Neil Hannon (especially when he teamed up with arranger Joby Talbot) but there’s yet to be an entire album that’s kept me happy from start to finish. But that could all change with the latest offering, Bang Goes the Knighthood. There’s been a four year gap since Victory for the Comic Muse, and I couldn’t help but feel that made an all-to-tidy bookend to a career that started with the Fanfare for the Comic Muse LP. Coupled with Neil’s success with the (stupendously excellent) Duckworth Lewis Method project and I was worried we’d seen the last of The Divine Comedy, but thankfully rumours of their death have been greatly exaggerated.
On first inspection Bang Goes the Knighthood comes across as a classic Divine Comedy record; there are three or four obvious singles tied together with the borderline-comedy ditties that make up most of Hannon’s oeuvre. Sometimes these jaunts seem just a little too much like out-right Noel Coward imitation, but when Neil’s at his best he writes songs of exquisitely crafted irony that transcend the limits of the “comedy song”, and I’m pleased to report that he’s most definitely at his best here. With such a taste for the theatrical (particularly when coupled with the lush orchestration he’s proven time and time again that he excels at) one might expect The Divine Comedy to descend into the heinous depths of musical theatre territory (which is pretty much the worst crime one can accuse anyone of) but somehow it never does. I think the saving grace is that no matter how cheesy the set-up there’s always Hannon’s acerbic wit, self-depreciation and über middle-classiness just around the corner to keep proceedings on an even keel. And the question of class is central to this record; Hannon is the absolute paragon of the English, middle-class gent – not bad going for an Irishman, really. It’s probably why I respond so well to his work, I guess; his preoccupations, aspirations and tastes seem to mirror mine quite closely.
The classic Hannon love songs (of which there are a couple on here) can border on the saccharine-sweet at times, but thankfully that never gets too out of hand in this instance. This is a record of astounding versatility – Hannon’s lyrics run the full gamut of human emotion over the course of about forty-five minutes- whilst never coming off the rails or losing it’s sense of unity – it’s a down-and-out “proper album” through and through.
*Out of the thirty-or-so studio albums those three acts have made between them, only I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning comes close to being no-holds-barred, no-filler-guaranteed classic album.
I read an article recently that said every artist only ever creates a maximum of twelve works in their whole career. It was one of those contentious statements that immediately clicked with my snobbish sense of superiority regarding music; so many bands just end up rehashing the same old themes and ideas over and over again, and how often is it that a band creates a truly exceptional record? If a band’s lucky they might manage one perfect album, but most good acts can only realistically hope to include one or two great songs on their records. If you were to play any of your favourite albums and listen with totally unbiased ears – excluding any nostalgic attachment you might have to the record – and examined it in forensic detail, how many of the tracks would you say are truly “great”? A really classic album might produce six or seven, but who can honestly say they know of an LP with absolutely no “filler” in it at all?
And this is where the theory falls apart, because I imagine quite a few people can… And truth be told I’d probably count myself amongst them. To separate the act of listening from the emotional responses that automatically appear is to miss the point entirely. Some tracks may well stand out as obvious “singles” but the great records, the ones that stand up to intense repeat-listening, are about far more than that. When listened to end-to-end they sweep you up and take you on a journey from start to finish; with ups and downs, to be sure, but that’s all part of the experience. A great record is one that stands as a compete item; the “total work of art”.
With their past two records, Band of Horses have not quite managed to deliver on the promise of their singles. 2006’s Everything All the Time, in particular, was dominated by the fantastic track Funeral; a song which has in my mind come to define the band. On the back of this spectacular success (it’s a track I listen to an awful lot, even now, four years later) I’ve always made an effort to listen to their new stuff on the off-chance that there’s be a new Funeral hidden in their midst, and with their latest LP, Infinite Arms, I’ve given them a longer-than-average session on my to-be-absorbed playlist. One of the upshots of my summer-hiatus from the blogosphere was the fact that I could once again devote my listening time to the albums that would have previously, in my pre-blogging days, have been give a few months to wear themselves in*. So, quite a bit after the fact, was the verdict on the new record any different? Well, kind of…
Infinite Arms certainly fits together as a complete album, as opposed to merely a collection of singles and filler. But whereas normally that’s an excuse for me to erupt in bubbling praise (you all know how much I like a “proper” album) in this instance the effect is spoiled by the fact that I just don’t like it. They’ve clearly been working on advancing their collective sound (always an admirable feat) while they’ve maintained a through-flow for all the albums by retaining Phil Ek as producer (again, something that’s generally laudable) but sadly the results left me very cold indeed. As far as I’m concerned this record smacks far too much of Americana for me to take it seriously. Fleet Foxes (another Ek project, incidentally) have done the Crosby, Stills and Nash revival to death already, and this record just feels like a pale imitation of a pale imitation of something I never really liked in the first place. It’s too smooth, too smarmy, too rich for me to take it seriously (a slickness most evident of the abysmal Compliments). There’s a cloying quality to the record that really sticks in the throat most unpleasantly.
I’m told that Band of Horses front-man and leading light Ben Bridwell** has made more of an effort to include the other band members in the creation of this record, and that may be where the trouble lies. This record just sounds like any other American country-rock pub band you could care to mention; a severe let-down of the potential on display in Funeral. Lead single Laredo is downright dreadful, but it’s not all a disaster – Dilly, for one, isn’t that awful – but for a band of the obvious calibre of Band of Horses to be producing an album where the highlight is merely “not that awful” is a sore disappointment.
*Expect slightly belated reviews of the other big releases of early 2010 in the coming weeks, particularly the recent efforts by The National and Frightened Rabbit.
**Most famous, obviously, for his number two slot in the Eaten by Monsters Top Five Beards in Indie Rock list from back in 2008.
“Inconsistency is my very essence… … Mutability is our tragedy, but it is also our hope. The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away” It would seem the sage words of Boethius provide something of a manifesto to Wild Palms‘ front-man Lou Hill, although perhaps assuming he’s au fait with the Consolation of Philosophy might be a bit of a stretch; “Once you think you’ve found your feet, you’re f*cked.” was Hill’s eloquent expression of the same sentiments…
Nonetheless, mutable is certainly the first adjective that springs to mind when considering the work of Wild Palms. Having only recently changed their name from Ex-Lion Tamers* (a rebirth heralded by a much-lauded cover of Bjork’s Human Behaviour), there’s talk of a debut album being released in March ’11, but by then the sound could well have changed again. Yet despite all the talk of change and evolution, the double-A-side single To The Lighthouse/Draw In Light (to be released on the 1st of November) sounds remarkably stable; a polished, consummate display of musicianship and intelligent production.
For this single, as well as the forthcoming album, the band blew nearly all their recording budget on securing the services of the producer Gareth Jones** – a man with an impressive back-catalogue including Turn on the Bright Lights (easily Interpol’s finest effort) and Grizzly Bear’s recent hit LP Veckatimest – and it seems to have paid off. Whereas their previous efforts were all hairy balls and crunchy bass lines, the new tracks have an unexpected warmth and subtlety to them. This means that neither To The Lighthouse nor Draw In Light pack the punch of last years single Over Time, but what they lack in immediacy they repay in spades over repeat listenings. These new tracks are all about atmosphere and the delicious tug-and-release of dramatic tension. If the album’s anything near as good as these tracks then we’ll certainly be hearing much more from Wild Palms in the early months of 2011. Provided they don’t go and change direction again, that is…
Wild Palms – To The Lighthouse
Wild Palms – Draw In Light
It just isn’t right to include an mp3 download of a new single, but being as I know how much you guys love your free music, here’s their old single (which has already done the rounds a bit), so you can compare the “old” and “new” sounds for yourselves:
This week the thirty-seventh series of Later… with Jools Holland kicked off with it’s 250th episode. I’m in two minds about the show, to be honest. On the plus side, it’s easily the best music performance show on telly, and on the down side, it’s easily the best music performance show on telly… Surely this can’t be all that the idiot box has to offer? 250 episodes and no-one’s come up with anything better? I have to say the formula is starting to wear a little thin at the seams: the token “world music” band, the “kooky” act that gets one song in the middle, Jools’ dreadful boogie-woogie jams with any band that’ll let him (despite the fact he can’t really play anything other than white notes), the fading legends trading on nothing more substantial than their (long-past) previous successes and, worst of all, the interminable “chats” that Jools insists on conducting… If there’s somebody out there more unsuited to interviewing than Jools is, I’ll be very surprised.
And yet it remains the doyen of music television, unequalled, unchallenged and unimpeachable. Just as I cite its formulaic nature as a downside, it could be argued that its consistency is the seed of its success; both in terms of the accessibility of the show no matter how disparate the guests appear, and the consistency of the bookings. The roll-call of acts that have appeared on the show is impressive, to say the least, and Later… is still the place to launch a new band’s success. Careers are often quite literally constructed overnight on the hallowed boards of Television Centre (will KT Tunstall and Seasick Steve please stand up?). And as a television show where the actual filming of the music takes priority (the audience are squeezed in around the edges of the studio, with the prime spots going to the cameras themselves) Later… is still pretty much unique. Live from Abbey Road was a commendable attempt to take the concept even further, but without a live audience or compere (no matter how cheesy) it somehow felt disjointed and cold. As much as I may niggle and gripe from the safety of my own home, there’s no denying that Jools is at the helm of a veritable national treasure.
Sadly, the opening episode of series 37 wasn’t hiding any gems and was swamped by erstwhile dinosaurs-of-rock the Manic Street Preachers, while the Klaxons and Mark Ronson each contributed their fair share of dirges to further sully the proceedings. From my experience as a viewer, it seems that bands I already really like tend to deliver stale, flat performances (The National can hold themselves guilty on this front), whereas whenever I’ve been thoroughly blown away by an astounding performance it’s always been by an act I’ve never heard of.
The last time this happened was at the start of the last series, when Yeasayer completely knocked me for six with their live version of Ambling Alp. Yeasayer are a band who’ve been loitering at the edges of my awareness for quite a while, but this was the first time I’d paid them any attention, and I dutifully went and bought their latest LP Odd Blood, only to be left feeling somewhat deflated. The record’s okay, don’t get me wrong, but the Later… performance had been amazing; yet another instance of a band who’re at their best when seen live, further proven, following some extra research, by their Later… performance in support of their previous album, All Hour Cymbals – the track 2080 sounds positively rubbish on record, but is a completely different beast when seen live. It would appear the art of delivering a good TV performance is a strange kind of alchemy, and one that’s completely distinct from the process of either recording or playing a regular live gig, and it’s one that Yeasayer have mastered with great aplomb.
Gather round, children, while I tell you something you already know: it’s been ages since anything at all has happened on this site.
I’ve been on something of a hiatus lately. This is partly because when the UK summer festival season comes around I find the most sensible course of action is to lock the door, turn up Radio 4 and shut out all music reporting entirely. Many people, it seems, absolutely love festivals, and it appears that the festival circuit is one of the few areas of the music industry that’s still in rude health. There’s hundreds of the bloody things, covering every genre imaginable, and they’re springing up all over the place – I’d be very surprised if there hasn’t been one this summer within a few miles of where you live*. And yet for all the fuss, all the hype, all the enthusiasm, who are we really kidding? Music festivals have as much to do with music as McDonald’s has to food. Don’t get me wrong, live music is great, but in a field? Through a completely inadequate PA? In the rain? Considerably less great, I’m sure you’ll agree.
Of course, I’m back to telling you things you all already know. Every man jack of you could tell me that festivals are all about “the experience”. And there’s the rub; it’s not an experience I have any interest in. I’m not a complete misanthrope – I can boogie on down with the best of them at a proper gig – but my capacity for hanging around in big crowds listening to tinny, indistinct dance music died with my teens. And there’s something about festivals that completely fails to bring out the best in bands, too. The restrictions on the band’s set list being the main culprit for sub-par performances: It’s got to be short (usually 15-20 minutes), so there’s no time to warm up or find a groove. It’s got to fit the “vibe”; more so than in any other situation, a band’s set has to fit the mood of the whole event, which invariably means that the songs have to be “up beat” and “dancy” (makes you shudder, doesn’t it). And you’ve got to play the hits; the eclecticism of festival line-ups means that only a small proportion of the audience are there to see a specific band, so winning over new fans is the prime priority for any performer.
But in my eyes the single most horrendous thing about the summer festival season is the media coverage. From May through to September we’re inundated – nay, bombarded – with festival features and special reports and “front line” coverage, the sum total of which is basically “Look at me! I’m having such a good time! And I’m with all these famous people!”. Verily, the only sane response is to give the whole shebang a wide berth.
And that, yer honour, is why I’ve not written anything lately. Honest, guv, it’s not because I’m lazy or easily distracted. Seriously.
So it came as quite a surprise, I don’t mind telling you, to hear that I’d won a “Web Excellency Award”. Now I imagine you’ve never heard of the Theatre Seat Store (lord knows I hadn’t) and probably have even less idea why they’re giving out awards for excellency in music blogs, but they’ve gone and done it anyway. There’s four categories, music, film, interior design, and AV equipment specialists; an odd mix, to be sure, but if I was trying to entice potential customers to buy my cinema chairs then those are certainly the areas I’d be focusing my sights on. Ultimately it’s a cynical ploy to get websites that they think appeal to their target demographic to link to the Theatre Seat Store (as I have, indeed, done), but I didn’t get to where I am today by ignoring praise, no matter how faint. So I shall accept this accolade in the spirit with which it is given, and from now on shall prefix “Eaten by Monsters blog” with the phrase “the award winning…”
And actually, their home cinema chairs do look pretty awesome. If only I had a proper cinema room. And more money than sense…
*Unless, of course, you don’t live on or around this sceptre’d isle; much to my dismay I’m not enough of a jet-setter to comment on the international festival scene with any authority.
There are many bands whom I love, admire, and obsess over in equal measure but who’s albums I very rarely listen to from end to end. The concept of the LP is, for me, the ultimate expression of pop music as an art form, and most of the reviews on these hallowed pages focus on how albums flow and work end-to-end, so in that light my opening statement here might seem a little out of character. To hear individual tracks in isolation is to miss out on the context: you miss the dramatic ebb and flow that long-form music allows; the rise and fall of dynamics, textures, and tension over the course of some twelve or so songs is not something that one gets to appreciate in this world of “shuffle” and iTunes and mp3s. But every cloud, as they say…
Eaten by Monsters 