Don't Cha Wish Your Girl Friend Was Hot Like Flat 29

For music fans in the British Isles I highly recommend watching Richard & Judy on channel 4 between 17:00 and 18:00 on Tuesday 29th November.  This program features the global TV debut of “Flat 29”, a quirky four piece from Liverpool who mix the styles of The Beastie Boys and GLC.

The show will run the recently recorded video to the new radio edit of their song “Flat 29 is for life, not just for Christmas”.  The track is taken from their 2004 debut album “Cumstains on The Sheets: The Bedroom Sessions”.

The boys are already recording some new material with a release date still to be confirmed sometime in the New Year, but anticipation is high following the success of their eclectic first record.  Cumstains on The Sheets: The Bedroom Sessions really fired a broad sided warning shot at the pop market as they displayed their versatility and willingness to turn their hand to anything.  The album puts a sensuous and velvety Marvin Gaye cover side by side with some bitterly staccato rap worthy of RUN-DMC; to top it all it is replete with a healthy dose of humour and an uncut studio session as a hidden final cut.  

Arguably the comedy gem on the disc is “A Perfect Blend” which is to the history of “Neighbours” as Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t start the Fire” is to 20th century history.  They really are proof that you don’t just have to be Welsh to laugh at your own material.

The Final Spasms of a Dying Genre

The mid to late 70s was littered with punk acts; a genre which, in retrospect, had a relatively short mainstream shelf life.  It was never defined by its musical quality or rich variation but instead by the message and image it created and lived.  The scene in the UK was largely epitomised by the Sex Pistols and Siouxsie and the Banshees, later followed to some extent into the 80s by the Manchester punk scene including bands such as the slightly misinterpreted right wing militants Joy Division.  Ultimately these were bands that played hard, lived outrageously and died young.  As it happened the Sex Pistols only ever cut one full length record entitled "Never Mind the Bollocks" and Sid Viscous died of a heroin overdose in February ’79 as was the fashion at the time, a trend set by Joplin, Hendrix and Coltrane.  The arrival of the 80s which bought with it a slightly better dressed crowd than its predecessors did nothing to cool punk’s fiery temper as the lead singer of Joy Division, Ian Curtis, hanged himself in May 1980 before the band’s inaugural US tour.  Potentially one of the most enduring groups of the age were The Clash who were formed in '76 as a band to challenge the mite of the Sex pistols.  They actually found their front man Joe Strummer playing with a band called the 101ers but managed to entice him away with promises of Sex Pistols scalping.  In the end they actually ended up touring with them on their "Anarchy in the UK" tour.  The Clash, after numerous personnel changes and a number of successful US tours, not least with The Who, finally permanently split in '86.  A monumental time span in punk history.  

It seems somehow ironic that a large part of the punk epoch spanned the Thatcher years; unquestionably a leader who sparked more controversy north of the Watford Gap than any one since Attila the Hun.  Well I’m sure he would have done if he had made it as far as the Watford motorway services of course.  The irony lies in that true punk is born out of the daily grind and teenage angst; at its heart is a deeply negative energy and punk serves as a cathartic medium for those feelings of anger and frustration.  Many blasphemers would argue that punk lives on at its new address in South beach California.  But this isn’t punk, affluent Middle America and its leafy suburbs are not a breeding ground for the type of emotions punk was designed to vent.  I am not saying for one moment that Blink 182 or Sum 41 aren’t half-decent at what they do and they have certainly made a good fist of the trad. punk sound if not for the want of a little less sound engineering and post production. A friend of mine coined the phrase "pop punk" and this is exactly what it is, popular.  It simply doesn’t fulfil the message and the "don’t give a fuck" image of punk; in fact their poster boy appearances are quite opposed.  

In my opinion the last glimmer of a punk revival occurred in 1995-’97 when the charmingly named Period Pain were unleashed on the world.  None of them were Brahms, and on occasion even simple musical concepts such as time didn’t seem to hold much significance for them.  But they were four sassy 14 year old girls with an attitude problem and something to whinge about-something which they set about with much gusto including songs about cheating on homework, gay boyfriends and the tawdry Spice Girls.  In that short period (no pun intended), in between schoolwork and sleepovers, they did manage to hack off their own small slice of fame.  Certainly their biggest break came with airplay for their album "Virgin Megastars" on radio 1’s "John Peel" show.  To add to that they played to their biggest audience of 1,000 on the Carling Stage at Reading 1997.  I truly believe these four were wise beyond their combined 56 punk years. They had an edgy uncut sound, probably because they had a recording budget of peanuts and they kept it as simple as it should be which was probably because that was all they could manage.  But these reasons simply don’t mean anything, because punk is ultimately an emotional explosion and in the music the face of the artist appears.  I feel with the earthy message these girls brought they could have found a dedicated youth following, but this growth in status never materialised for a couple of reasons.  Quite simply they arrived 20 years too late and missed the punk bus which tore around at break neck speed at least until the end of the decade.  Secondly I have some experience of the environment in which they were schooled and can assure any doubters that it was one in which punk was out and violin virtuosos were in.  In the end only one of the four ended up pursuing a career in music, at present Chloe Alper is the founder and singer of a British band called Pure Reason Revolution.  
And so it came to pass that another punk heart ceased to beat as the Period Pains went their separate ways.  

It has taken nearly a full decade for this rough cut sound to resurface and at present "Arctic Monkeys" are NME’s golden children and its easy to see why, because (sorry to write them off so soon) they just aren’t going to make it big.  NME knows this so has guaranteed itself sure-fire grounds for maintaining its typically obscure taste in contemporary music.  Admittedly they made it on to MTV with their video for the song "I bet you look good on the dance floor" but I predict them to cave in before too long.  Their band name makes me think of a reverse anti global warming message; I guess if it had been high priority on their list of punk gripes they might have considered the name "The Tropical Penguins"?

It’s a terrible shame but true punk simply isn’t diverse enough as a musical genre to create the type of longevity you see in other streams. A perfect example is that when the "The greatest punk album ever" was released they had even found a spot for Blondie's "Denis" (active punkers no doubt, but just not the right song!): it just goes to show that you can’t find enough musical diversity within punk to even fill a 25 track double album.  

On its tomb stone shall be engraved: here lies Punk, it was loud and proud and didn’t take no shit from the world but ultimately it died young and wearing Dr. Martens.
    

Garvey spreads his wings at the ELBOW

Friday night of The Music In My Head Festival in The Hague saw ELBOW as the headliners.  Now usually I would take offense, simply on principle to any band that sets it self up under one name and then focuses the spot light on one member so blindingly.  But ELBOW is the exception because Guy Garvey really is their modern day Freddy Mercury armed with a walking stick instead of a rhythm stick and I’m happy for him to be there.  Before I get too carried away I should acknowledge that perhaps I elevate his iconic status beyond its true place when you consider how emotionless and well … Mancunian, the rest of the band is.  

I once heard Garvey described as having “The voice of an angel and the face of brickie” which is something I can complete agree with, on accasion I worry that in fact that amount of facial hair could provide dangerous levels of feedback all on its own.  While he does indeed look like a shabby cigarette addicted badger, the beard adds credibility to his image of being the ELBOW messiah.  For the entire set he glued himself to a bar stool, had all his guitars brought to his hand and even moved the drum kit stage right in order to not distract the audiances’ gaze from the halo he clearly thinks encircles his greasy locks.

(The story behind his walking stick and his apparent magnestism towards his bar stool is that he fell over and hurt his leg while drunk.  Frankly I don’t accept this as a good excuse for his perpetual inertia.  One week after their bus crash in 2002 the Strokes performed a typically high octaine set at Reading Festival plus one neck brace for Casablancas and no less jumping around than usual.)

Ultimately Garvey’s appearance makes no odds for me with regard to the overall performance; you really can stand there and let that voice of his wash over you like a cool breeze.  The music they create really is a little eden umong the  rock masses.  A good deal of the show was spent bringing out the material for their new album and both “Mexican Standoff” and “Fugitive Motel” were roundly received.  Despite this clearly being a gig for “Leaders of the Free World” they weren’t going to let anyone leave dissapointed and if Newborn had been recorded it could well have been enough to rival Grace Under Pressure featuring the mixed voices of the Glastonbury Royal Choir.

Garvey really is, and purely based on artistic contribution deserves to be, the centre piece here; as the singer of “Stillwater” said “I really make a connection man”.  This is just what he does by keeping his speeches witty enough to make you laugh but not memorable enough to make you leave thinking “God I wish he had shut up and just played”.  I think the only piece of criticism I can level at Garvey was regarding his comment about “I am kloot” where he said “oh they are good arent they” (Mancunian accent obligatory).  Yes Guy well you would say that now wouldn’t you because you are producing their album!

All in all Garvey and his backing band were sublime, they are a band who will live and die by that voice.  Long live ELBOW.    

A Witty Interval

To tell the truth I had never intended to descend in to the world of music related one liners but this joke was too funny to keep to myself:

Q - “What has nine arms and sucks?”

A – “Def Leppard”

B.R.M.C Playing the Queen's Rock and Roll

Last night I saw BRMC as the second main stage act during the Music In My Head festival in The Hague.  As seems to be typical of this “Howl” tour Peter Hayes opened the set with a sultary acoustic number; with his harmonica in its sling he reminded me of a bluesy Bob Dylan covering bridge sections with slightly disonant droning and breathy fills.  The full band soon made their appearance and as I had come to expect from seeing them live before the mood was suitably dark, punctuated with those very stark white spots penetrating down from the heavens and smoke rising from the floor to meet it.

They have never been a band to mess around with chatting to the audience and once again they were true to form uttering no more than severn words during the hour long set, but the infectious quality and energy of the music rose slowly to crescendo as their set progressed with some of their more recognisable numbers striking a popular chord with the crowd such as “Six Barrel Shotgun” and “Spread Your Love”.

Throughout, the only complaint I felt I could have had was with something that is arguably out of their control.  On two occasions the bass drum was struck with such ferocity that it was dislodged and as it pressed against the pickup it created that type of bass which you know is heavy because you feel it vibrate inside your chest.  The second issue was that the balance meant the vocals were not sufficiently audible, I felt it was a shame to miss edgy lyrics like “I kill you all with a six barrel shotgun”.  I advance cautiously with my criticism on the technical front because perhaps they play elsewhere tomorrow night and the house techies get the balance spot on and gig crisis is overted.

To their absolute credit their final number was a finale worthy of the last night of the proms.  They did “Gospel Song” from their new album and turned it into a truly uplifiting piece.  Mid song they slowed the tempo right down and began this slow tantilising harmonic build like thunder gathering in the distance which gained presence and tempo as it progressed, until it all came to a truly biblical head to round off their set.  It goes to show that gospel always was the best way to speak to god.

For those interested in instruments and especially guitars it is a worth while show simply to see the sexiest Gibson Bass with a single pickup, elongated F-holes and a beautiful burnished colour around the edge.
In order to spark discussion on the subject I would be interested to know if anyone has ever seen blues guitarist Ian Siegal and Peter Hayes in the same room?  Uncanny resemblance me thinks!    

Architecture In Helsinki Making Castles in The Hague

Last night I saw Architecture In Helsinki as the opening act at The Music In My Head tour in The Hague, they are a quirky eight piece from Australia and to say they were un pretentious would have been an understatement.  The majority of them hadn’t dressed as if they were playing a gig, in fact a few didn’t look like they had planned to leave the house at all when they got dressed, but here they were.

I believe a key factor about gigs is expectation, a good gig exceeds your expectations and in this case, AIH were spine chillingly good.  From the moment these odd balls stepped on stage they created a certain anticipation and the first chord gave me goosebumps.  Despite this being their Dutch debut they were not about to ease themselves in to it with a mellow acoustic number, instead each began yelling giving the impression they were going to break into a thrash metal set.  Of course this wasn’t to be but it did set the tone; it set up the rest of the show with a frenetic energy that simply wouldn’t die.

But on the subject of metal, if these guys has gone down that route im not sure it would have been such a bad thing because they did stretch into about every other type of music, I felt the ska and acid jazz interludes were particularly successful.  Many people would associate jazz with horns, and that is exactly what they gave us!  They were armed with two trombones, a trumpet and a tuba of all things.  What was more there didn’t seem to be any rules about who it was that should be playing these, or any other instruments, if one got bored and put something down another would scoop it up play it and drop it again.  They certainly never got the musicians union memo about using “normal” instruments, as the drum stand was littered with irregulaly shaped pieces of scrap metal which they hit with anything that came to hand.  Also the drum stand and the drum kit seemed fair game for any one with a stick who thought it needed a bashing.  Many kit drummers would, im sure, be somewhat vexed by the presence of some one else taking it upon themselves to play THEIR cymbals or floor toms.

I refered earlier to expectations, and I truly believe that a key factor in these guys blowing me away was that I thought they were going to be awful.  If anyone has heard their album material from Fingers Crossed I hope you will know what im saying when I describe their music as engineered to the point of sterilised, prissy and lifeless.  Well I implore you to not let this put you off seeing them live because they take these same tunes and turn them into a bubbling cacophony which is also aesthetically pleasing when you see these guys jump around and hit stuff with sticks as if their life depended on it.

What seemed at the time like a staged riot is actually a melting pot of eight innovators who take a tune and make it their own every night.  There aren’t any rules, and realistically with this type of performance you shouldn’t expect anything, but you can guarantee that it will be loud it will be eclectic and it will be excellent!

Jagged Little Pill: Hmm was that Prozac Alanis?

Oh goodness me-how terribly apt it is that none other than Alanis Morissette has chosen to mark her return to the music scene after a two year abscence with a cover of Seal’s “Crazy”.  I must admit the irony kills me!  I have an excellent mental image of her joining her first group therapy session and say “Hello my name is Alanis” and then bursting into song; a musical self portrait if ever I heard one.

Despite the unfortunate choice of song this latest release is a very commendable effort and she wouldn’t be the first star to reignite their career in the cosy world of cover versions.  I refer also to the UK’s very own 80s star Rick Astley who has recently marked his recording debut after a 12 year absence with a covers album.  He himself said that a covers album is a good stepping stone to getting back into the routine of recording and also it guarantees a certain level of sales based upon the popularity of the songs you choose for your album.

With reference to “Crazy” I particularly like that earnest and imploring tone in her voice which helps her to pull off dramatic lines such as “In a sky full of people, only some want to fly”.  It isn’t opera but its delivery is human and heartfelt.  In perfect synergy the earnest look in her eye means the video provides a level of pathetic fallacy to the words.

At the time of her entrance in 1995 she stood almost alone as a high profile female singer songwriter.  This has afforded her a great deal of credibility as she really paved the way for the recent influx of solo females by proving that there is an excellent opportunity for them; I refer of course to performers such as Katie Melua and Norah Jones.  Following her recent absence I must admit that I am genuinely excited that a pioneer such as herself has made a return and I hope she will soon begin writing her own material which was a key selling point for her throughout the 90s.  

I leave you know with a quote from the song “Crazy”:
“If all were there when we first took the pill”
God Alanis will you look at that; some things just seem to come back and haunt you!          

A Cracking Crazy Pianos on any Given Day

I defy anyone to name a venue for live music which hosts the kind of talent and diverse repertoire on display at Crazy Piano’s in Scheveningen, Holland.  While I am not shy to meat out criticism where it is due or points which I believe could be improved I am confident to go out on a limb here and say that on its night the execution is flawless.  Don’t get me wrong the musicians are no great innovators but what they choose to do, they do excellently.  Night after night a team of pianists deal with 8 to 10 hours of non stop requests and they meet every single one with no music, never have I asked for something which they didn’t know, or at the very least know someone who did know it.

I’m not here to share with you my thoughts on the service but it should suffice to say that it compliments the entire atmosphere nicely and I am all in favour of the 8euro cover charge in order to guarantee a certain crowd.

In short summary Crazy Pianos will certainly maintain a place in my top 3 easily accessible clubs offering live music for many years to come.  Long live bar staff who dance on the grand pianos!    

Kanye? Kan ya drop the act

Just for one moment I would like to take issue with a one Kanye West; his political opinions aside I am suitably disappointed with his latest single which from now on I intend to refer to as “Fools Gold Digger”.
For a long time I held Kanye in high regard against his peers such as 50 Cent and The Game as a rapper with intelligence, significant and sensitive lyrics and nothing less than a decent hold on melody.  Not to mention the excellent job he did in producing John Legend’s album.
But “Fools Gold Digger” simply drags him down.  My first issue is that now he seems to have slid into the deprave world of shouting a la Lil’ John and co.  Secondly his lyrics are one iota short of dropping “Chandon” “Ho” and “Bling” with unnerving regularity and lastly I am keen to know what was the point in having Jamie Foxx appear both in the video and at the VMAs?  Was this a lame attempt to try and convince people the great man was born again?  Honestly I fail to see the point bearing in mind it is clearly Ray Charles singing the backing loop.
I just have five words for you Mr West:  “You are better than this!”          

Ladysmith Black Mambazo: An African Cultural Explosion

“Welcome to the solution of this African contribution” are the opening lyrics for “Knowing the other one” by Jazzworx.  Although they are clearly referring to themselves, I feel no truer words were spoken to represent the contribution made to international music by Ladysmith Black Mambazo.  Their reputation precedes them as highly successful collaborators with Paul Simon amongst other popular acts, the main performers at Nelson Mandela’s release and a musical history dating back nearly 45 years now.  Potentially the most remarkable aspect of their story is that they achieved this phenomenal success despite coming from abject poverty in South Africa and still to this day recruit new members of this nine man acapella choir from candidates with exactly this heritage.  They stand among only a handful of internationally recognised stars that came from incredibly poor African backgrounds such as Yossou N'Dour.

For a number of years I had been keen to see them live and finally had the chance last month in a rather aristocratic concert hall in The Hague.  Despite my questioning of their relative popularity in Europe I was pleased to find that the hall filled up very quickly.

Despite the setting the performance itself on the whole was a very lucid and unpretentious affair.  Between songs the members would chat and drop a few dance moves and go and get glasses of water which to me demonstrated their dedication solely to the music not to aesthetics.

Before I attended a friend of mine commented that he simply didn’t like acapella choirs which I accepted simply as a matter of opinion but in truth the style of music cannot be compared or contrasted by any western standards or setups such as tenors, altos and sopranos etc.  Instead each member has a harmony and distinct vocal riffs which he specialises in.  They also to choose to sing very close to the microphone which can lead to unwanted distortion but instead it served to amplify the really rich tonal quality and depth to the music.  At a number of points they stepped back from the bank of microphones to sing acoustic.  Perhaps after the full sound I had previously experienced I was duped into believing the tone would be equally rich and strong but I was some what disappointed that even as close as the ninth row I lost a lot of the texture.  Many would say that my expectations are too high to believe that the sound would fill the room without amplification but their have been examples of flamenco guitarists performing in London’s Albert Hall and filling that space without a microphone.  Despite the acoustic intermissions diminishing the overall full texture of the music it did mean that the droning quality of their music was alleviated somewhat and it was nice to hear, if only faintly, some different parts more clearly.

With regard to their set list I was pleased that they weren’t swayed by European demands for well known songs and performed a majority of songs in Zulu but also that they did intersperse it with some of their better known pieces, which are often in English.

All in all it was a fantastic experience and was one of those performances which left everyone chatting about it fervently on their way to their cars and hopefully for much longer after that.      

A Mixed Bag of Boxes

Until the 2nd April 2006 the large-scale work occupying the Turbine Room at Tate Modern in London is called “Embankment”.  By way of short summary it is a landscape created from the casting of 14,000 various sized boxes and the piece was constructed by Rachel Whiteread.  If you choose to enter the gallery from the millennium bridge side you might try to resist the urge to look over “Embankment” from the first floor window; with the benefit of hindsight I would urge you to principally enjoy the exhibit from any of the elevated vantage points.

When you actually enter the Turbine Room you immediately find yourself beneath the gang way which firstly obscures your view and secondly detrimentally affects the quality of light on the exhibit.  Try to picture for one moment the sheer brightness of a high vaulted, airy room filled almost to the rafters in places with off white objects; now put a solid object (the gang way) over it and no additional lighting and the effect is that the first quarter of the landscape you pass assumes a rather dull and oppressive quality.  When you pass out from under the gang way the change is quite remarkable and the aura is slightly surreal it is somewhat reminiscent of a Doctor Who parallel universe landscape where everything is white.  

The shear size of “Embankment” in itself is remarkable and I can only begin to imagine the effort that must have gone into arranging the boxes; but it didn’t quite live up to description given either in the brochure or on the Tate Modern website.  Both describe it as labyrinthesque with a maze of dead ends, arguably an intentional portrayal of modern day landscapes, but it simply didn’t live up to this promise except for perhaps the incredibly short sighted.  It is laid out in a myriad of different shapes and pinnacles and banks but it became quite obvious that if you chose to follow a certain path you could accurately predict where you would end up on the other side, a fairly ineffective maze.

While on the surface 14,000 white squares in a room sounds dull it does have the effect of making you stop and look all around you as if it were a painting or photo and thus with anything like this the less prams, toddlers or miserable teenagers present the better. For that very reason, and after one circuit of the room, my preferred view was from the fist floor gang way which looks over the exhibit.  From there you are not only above it but you can see it stretch out before you and above you.

For those of you who chose to go to other exhibits on other floors don’t forget to have a look out of the windows on your way up in order to gain yet another perspective on “Embankment”.