Record
Reviews |
| |
| ||
Poundsign Underneath The Marquee CD Fantastic. fantastic 016. by Keith Mclachlan. April 28, 2002. See more about this title. Out of Stock. |
Alicia from Aislers Set's other band is the new official designation for Poundsign. Of course that is unfair cause she doesn't even do much in Poundsign any more, here she is only given space for three of her songs, songs that which if it were that fate was truly benevolent would be saved for Aislers Set records allowing those Track Star songs to find their true place on Track Star records and restore a bit of entropic karmic balance to the universe. But, Wyatt's hairline aside Poundsign are actually kinda great, which comes as a surprise to me because when I saw them live a couple of times they always seemed a bit too librarian to be interesting and their music was anastethised (see near death) but maybe the fear of losing Alicia (one of pop's cutest figures if you can pardon my shallowness) to the set full-time has encouraged them to straighten up and fly straight. It starts off a bit show tune-esque and rather brilliantly with 'Matinee Sunday' and continues to Alicia's dreamy number 'The Best Day' to some more generic indiepop fare and through the second side where the songs are longer and more psychedelic (slightly psychedelic still qualifies as psychedelic). Becky Barron's voice takes some getting used to, she's no Alicia then, and when the boys reach for those notes it gets a bit tenuous but still this is a fantastic time on Fantastic records and a worthy expense for anyone wanting some joy or at least a possibly obscure tax deduction in their life, you could claim that you are contributing to the save Alicia's songs fund. | |
Nosotrash Popemas CD Elefant. er1091. by Keith Mclachlan. April 28, 2002. See more about this title. Out of Stock. |
I tired to translate the name Nosoträsh using Alta Vista's translator and came up empty and so I will attempt my own translation by breaking the word down into its key components. No- this prefix is obviously an allusion to the New Order to which Nosoträsh bear absolutely no resemblance, especially current model Hook and Sumner, no bloated bearded faces and weak guitar solos or disappointing Peter Saville artwork, nope just acoustic guitars and bouncey songs whose subjects elude me since I never took Spanish. Ok then on to part two -so- this clearly means so as in 'so groovy' the music may be simple and minimal and the language indecipherable but the sprit is purely spun, made to make the soul go all a twitter ven if when you sing along you sound like an ugly American. Part three -träsh this is obviously not a reference of formerly awesome New Zealand band that was led by he of the two-dot u Bruce Blücher (a German in keeping with the continentalisms) but rather an emphasis, especially placed abaft as it is, that everything that comes after this record is trash! Confidence is a good thing, these girls probably graduated at the top of their Dale Carnegie courses and also in the top of the special edition Le Mans version of Trivial Pursuit. It is reminiscent of Le Mans for sure, one of them produces the record, but also I think of Marine Girls and I think of Adventures in Stereo and I think of any other great band currently in existence. This is like a storybook filled with novellas like an album full of 'La Fanfarlos' and it is splendid, gorgeous and am unpretentious delight. | |
Hefner The Hefner Brain CD Too Pure. pure 125cds. by Keith Mclachlan. April 28, 2002. See more about this title. Out of Stock. |
This is an ep or even a mini-lp, depending on which source consulted, that neatly demonstrates the radical shift in Hefner philosophy that has occurred in the last year or so. The first three songs are fantastic, reflecting the brightness of attitude that came with the discovery of a new set of bubbly, analogue tools and a fresh outlook on pop music that has resulted in the fantastic first three numbers including a lightly revamped verion of 'When the Angels Play Their Drum Machines' and the outstandingly awesome 'Dark Hearted Discos' and the still great but slightly less fantastic 'Baggage Reclaim Song'. These songs represent the new Hefner being full of synthesized sounds and drum machined beats and a Numan-esque narrative on relationships often nostalgically echoing the 1980s. 'Dark Hearted Discos' in particular may actually turn out to be the best song Hefner has ever produced. But then comes the last two numbers and the timewarp has a temporal shift back to 1998 when Hefner were writing Violent Femmes (granted vastly superior efforts to those of Gordon's gang) and so we are left on our farewell a couple of plodding numbers with loads of steel guitar and authenticness that try to get by on the charm of Darren's lyrics but don't seem to reach the same levels of excitement as the first three songs. So the conclusion in my heart is that they need to make a clean break with the past, in my opinion, more 'Dark Hearted Discos' and 'Alan Beans' and if need be sack the steel guitar player and the drummer (which would mean more Ant records woo hoo!) and join the synthpop revival full-time. | |
Saloon (This Is) What We Call Progress CD Darla. DRL-124. by Keith Mclachlan. April 28, 2002. See more about this title. Out of Stock. |
It is all very Yo La Tengo which makes my enjoyment of Saloon somewhat unsettling. It is Yo La Tengo simply because not very much at all happens in these songs which is the sort of rut/music the tengo specializes in. They don't appear all that competent musically and so they tend to drone on with the same set of two or three notes for 6 or 7 minutes (here's a recipe for success for future would be pop bands don't write any songs over 3 minutes) and the singer sounding something like the ultra feminized version of Ira Kaplan, who himself was never the most hoary among us, never inflecting, never emoting rather just floating or more accurately coasting on her naturally twee tones. Andrew from Mahogany produced the record or mastered it or did something and it isn't entirely removed from his work but where Mahogany songs often have dramatic flourishes or dramatic pauses or even a nice little thing called tension this record is all fluffy and actually mostly charming. The first song does vaguely resemble 'Super-Electric' era Stereolab and the rest is more the aforementioned 'twee' drone than beat you on the head senseless because we're artsy tuneless interminability. I do wish the singer had a personality, I do wish the words meant something and I wish the EQ levels varied somewhat more but I still find my mind reclaiming bit of the melody and a sense of serenity overcoming me while listening, and that isn't just a pleasant way to describe how boring the record is. It truly is something I would describe as mostly lovely. | |
Ballboy All The Records On The Radio Are Shite CD SL. by Keith Mclachlan. April 28, 2002. See more about this title. Out of Stock. |
Ballboy have a way with a title and, fortunately for them, with a song as well which spares them the rod often applied to bands like the Beta Band. Ballboy seem the less effortless, harder working cousins of Belle and Sebastian who they believing themselves betters and believe their kin aspire to their level of feyness actually wish they were the Wedding Present instead. Gordon Macintyre seems more than willing to brandish his opinions in a brash, literate manner allowing a love song to double as commentary on current popular music even though he is surely to be lambasted as being some sort of culutral luddite or elitist out of touch vagrant who can't appreciate the genius of the Neptunes due to his own overarching conservatism. But not all music is created for the same purpose. All of this R'n'B that so tittilates the ironic hipsters is somewhat reminiscent of the rush back in the mid 90s between Intel and AMD to create faster and faster chips for the same set of plodding instructions (see bloated or see Microsoft) the technological revolution lacked the spark of innovation and so computers today do roughly the same as 20 years ago and so too then a good deal of current popular music has downplayed the importance of melody and songs choosing instead to worship the beat which is the current metaphor for technological progress. But it seems making a beat that moves one physically is much more elementary than creating a melody that moves the heart, sure some will chime in on the obviousness of the e minor chord changes, but Ballboy move me and whether it be the frantic tromblone blasts that thrill or the all too predictable pauses in the title track that provide short moments of elation or the pathetic self-loathing in the final number that cause the reluctant among us to relate. Ballboy are smart and they do not pander and they write wonderfully catchy songs that deserve all the praise they receive from terminally unhip sources such as John Peel. | |
Various Artists The Sound Of Leamington Spa, Volume 2 CD Firestation Tower. FST 040. by Keith Mclachlan. April 28, 2002. See more about this title. Out of Stock. |
Firestation Tower has seemingly found its niche and this is releasing songs already released by someone else a long time ago, no great crime since the current great label of the moment LTM also has the same proclivities. While their (FT's) releases from current bands are often lacking and colourless their Leamington Spa comps and other reissues (Desert Wolves, Ambitious Beggars) are wholly genius. Maybe it is just that they have great record collections and are perfectly adept at creating what are essentially mix tapes for the indiepop masses but this cd is even better than the impossible brilliant volume one. And better yet in that in this case I really have no idea who any of these people are but boy am I glad that I have finally heard a Phil Wilson song and boy can I hardly wait for the June Brides/Phil Wilson reissues he promises in the liner notes are in the pipeline because his song 'Better Days' is truly and utterly magnificent. There are only two bands I had even heard of before getting this record and those were the previously cited Ambitious Beggars who come off a bit Trash Can Sinatras but with the unfortunate inclusion of saxophone in their otherwise nimble number and the mostly dire Groove Farm though pleasantly mediocre here and who were known to me by various Subway records compilations from the past. Everything else is a revelation then, and the best of these revelations aside from Mr. Wilson is Benny Profane, Friends, Harbour Boy and Fat and Frantic all coming off something similar to the Housemartins (variety is not often the adjective reached for in describing the music here) which seems to be par for the course for most jangly, earnest, loved by Alistair Fitchett bands of the mid 80s likely shooting for Morrissey/Marr and landing in Paul Heaton's grumpy garden instead. No matter, it is all glorious and not the slightest whiff of nostalgia in my direction as it is all fantastically new and impressive to my ears. | |
|