Noble Beast - Andrew Bird

There's something mesmeric about Andrew Bird's 2009 offering, Noble Beast. Trained as a classical violinist, and self-confessed pro-whistler, Bird began to record more popular and mainstream records as a means to capture the diverse sounds he was capable of producing.

Noble Beast offers a subtle combination of folk, indie and easy-listening. But subtle needs to be, if anything, overstated here. There's a gentleness behind Bird's skilled guitar- and violin-playing that draws in the listener and conjures up visions of plains and woods, of nature and science. Over the top rests his silky soft vocals. The comparison with Sufjan Stevens is apt. They even look similar (Stevens vs Bird... ish), but it's the careful layering of their music that really provoked the similarity.

There's also a diverse range of subject material in Bird's lyrics. There's a poeticism behind 'Tenuousness' and 'Anonanimal', coupled with verbal play; the symmetry behind album opener 'Oh No' and closer 'On Ho' requires more study, but there's a careful planning behind his work that deserves attention. My favourites perhaps remain 'Souverian' and 'The Privateers', the latter for its accessibility, urgency and sparkling chorus, the former for its dreaminess. But the stand-out lyric is almost certainly:

Fake conversations on a non-existent telephone

Like the words of a man who's spent too much

Time alone

There is, certainly, my own penchant for an exploration of loneliness at play here. But that observation of the inability of one alone to articulate effectively is brought about in such a fluid and melodious way in 'Effigy' that the contrast couldn't be starker. Beautiful and thrilling to the ear.

~~~

2009

Phrazes for the Young - Julian Casablancas

A real grower this one; on a first listen, it sounds as though Casablancas has taken his favourite elements of The Strokes and poured them into his first solo offering. But it becomes clear that the influence offered by Bright Eye's Mike Mogis and Nate Walcott has drawn Casablancas in slightly new directions too.

Out of the Blue and Left and Right in the Dark catapult the listener into a world in which Casablancas both laments his own growing up and the changing times in which he lives in. But it's best expressed with this lyric:

All that I can do is sing a song of faded glory

And all you got to do is sit there, look great, and make 'em horny.

It's not so much a diatribe or eulogy to growing up as it is his own small observations of how things have moved on. And when he blasts into 11th Dimension and drops more encouragement for his audience as to stripping away attempts at being, for want of a better word, cool, one starts to perceive where the album title might have come from. A personal favourite exhortation is

And don't be shy, oh no, at least deliberately

'Cause no one really cares or wanders why anymore

Oh I've got music coming out of my hands and feet and kisses...

But there's plenty of good stuff in there.

The first really dip of the record, only eight tracks long as it is, is with the two more ballad-esque centrepiece tracks, 4 Chords of the Apocalypse and Ludlow St. Here it seems Julian was looking for something more lyrical, but the change of pace doesn't fit entirely satisfactorily with the rest of the album, and Ludlow St in particular sounds too croonery and doesn't show Julian at his best.

But then we launch into the final triad of the record, and what a triad indeed. Rivers of Brakelights is my personal favourite of the album, and the word play with the two repeated refrains is cerebrally enchanting:

Getting the hang of it, getting the hang of it

Timing is everything, timing is everything
Getting the hang of it, timing is everything
Getting the hang of it, timing is everything
Timing the hang of it, getting is everything
Getting the time of it, everything hangs on this

Hanging the getting of, timing the getting of.

(Not best shown there, but check out the track!) Meanwhile Glass and Tourist, perhaps the tracks with the biggest Bright Eyes influence, provide a fitting close to a rip-roaring album. One of the things that's most enjoyable about this album is that even with only eight songs, Casablancas has taken the time to flesh them out, and they do sound fully formed and fully imagined. That's why repeated listens pay dividends, as it takes some time to pick through some of the more layered work that's been laid down.

An excellent year closer and an uplifting, exhortatory effort from The Strokes' frontman.

~~~

released November 2009

Birdeatsbaby LIVE

I kept telling myself I'd see these guys. I mean, come on, I know the rocker front-lady and pianist/vocalist Mishkin Mullaly from way back and always said "Sure, sure, I'll be there." So when I heard that they were planning in London-town, in Islington no less, I bought my ticket and jumped at the opportunity.

Upstairs at the Garage is a smallish venue, with room for perhaps 100 or so, but that may be generous. Despite ants-in-the-pants of the next act's lead vocalist, Birdeatsbaby's performance was nothing shy of brilliant. The wanderer from Maleficent and some issues with levels didn't really detract at all from what was an energetic and vibrant show, in which the performers seemed to lose themselves (just a little) in their music.

Let's face it: I'd listened to some Birdeatsbaby tracks before I saw them. Not right before, but in the recent past. I'd enjoyed them, but it was dark cabaret (think punky/folky/rocky/gothy sorta thing...think piano-led dark gypsy stylings) and that might not be my musical cup of tea. But live, the sound was catapulted onto a different plane. The fact was that even with shonky levels and some bad behaviour from the next act, the music was engaging and lost little. It's truly a tribute to a band if one can enjoy listening to the bass line (Garry) or tight, exciting drumming (Philippa) even if that's not what you're meant to be hearing loudest. Three part-harmonies and involved cello and violin parts (Ella and Keely respectively) built a kind of musical tableau that I was happy to let wash over me. Over the top of that, the stylistic range from Mishkin's vocals provided a fitting icing to the rather enjoyable, if dark, cake. As a live show, I loved it; I was enthralled by how together this group were, how explosive their songs seemed and how even with technical glitches I wasn't really concerned or distracted. Definitely recommended!

For images and more info, how about here?

~~~

26 November 2009, with Maleficent & Belladonna, Upstairs at the Garage, Relentless Garage, Highbury & Islington

High Fidelity

Where did I get so confused? Wait...that's the codeine talking.

I don't think I was that thrown by High Fidelity. On the one hand, I could understand why a caring friend gave it to me on discovering I was newly single: it's a film about break-ups, and the way in which a change in relationship status might force one to re-evaluate all that's gone before. On the other, did I really want to weep over the spilt milk of a failed escapade when in fact I should be celebrating my new opportunities and shot at being happy? Is it worth dwelling on that which we can't change?

According to Rob Gordon (John Cusack), it is. The only way forward is to tear back through the past, throwing up questions and answers in equal measure about his suitable as a mate and inevitably hitting that age old stumbling block: "Will I always be alone?". The girl in question that's left him is Laura (Iben Hjejle), and while we don't get an immediate insight into what went wrong, in turns we do discover that in all probability, both of them have acted badly and pissed on their relationship in their own searches for happiness (whether that's through job satisfaction, other partners or just trashing what they know to be 'good').

Rob's erstwhile companions and poor comforters are Dick (Todd Louiso) and Barry (Jack Black), once part-time employees at his Championship Vinyl record store, now full-time loafers and music geeks extraordinaire. One wonders if their dialogue, at times self-mocking in its propensity for pedantry, was in fact the writers' own musical snobbery expressed in ironic terms. Then again, it could just have been marvellously well-observed.

The strength of the film lines both in these two secondary characters, the humour that they provide, and the fact that Rob's internal monologue (delivered throughout directly to the camera by Cusack), while at times pained, never really takes itself too seriously. That's the real clincher: actually to believe what Rob is saying is to accept that by twenty-six you really do need to be settling down. Of course that's not the case, and it struck me as a remarkably dated attitude. In addition, Rob's own lack of insight into his affairs suggested that we should not take everything our narrator says as gospel.

The only really irksome detail of the film was the ending. A reunion between Rob and Laura, while unwished for, was to be expected, but the circumstances surrounding it are decidedly morbid and pathetic. The suggestion was that they wouldn't find anyone better, so may as well settle for just 'ok'. But while in Brief Encounter that might be plausible, and indeed laudable, as settling for family is both a noble and loyal decision, here there is no nobility to their actions. In fact, it just seems that they are giving up; Rob's realisation that the other women he has eyes for are merely fantasies does not come across as something momentous. Rather, it appears to be a disappointment; the bubble has burst and he is accepting that life won't get better than Laura. Perhaps he's right; perhaps he has come to a conclusion that might be right for him; but it was not a decision he made that inspired any confidence in the viewer, especially having seen him moan and mope in the pouring Chicago rain.

A disappointing ending to an otherwise enjoyable film.

***

2000

John Cusack, Iben Hjejle, Todd Louiso, Jack Black

dir. Stephen Frears

based on the book by Nick Hornby

Angles - dan le sac vs Scroobius Pip

So since when did I listen to british hip-hop/trip-hop/rappity-rop? Since rarely. Since never. But I was taken with Scroobius Pip's lyrics from my first hearing of The Beat That My Heart Skipped. Fortunately for me, that's also the album opener on Angles, an album that claims to be the standard rap battle/mash-up between mc and dj. However, like every track on the album, a second listen (or sometimes just a first listen) suggests that dan (lowercase, please) and Scroobius are more than meet the eye.

They make a bold claim in the spoken intro to the album:

"We ain't pushing the boundaries, we're blowing them up! We ain't trying to
expand the scene; we want the scene to erupt. So make some room on the floor and
somebody bolt the doors cos tonight we ain't seeking applause. Tonight, well
gee? we're just looking to have some good new-fashioned fun, y'all."

It's not about fitting in or playing along, it's about creating new sounds, new lines and a new meaning, about revitalisation. Fixed has the same grand theme, as they chirp "dan le sac? scroobius pip! fi-fixing hip-hop....as best we can" before exploding into a mind-numbing electro-bippity-thumpbeat track.

But perhaps where the beat, the sampling and the language gel best is as the record begins to draw to a close. A Letter from God to Man brings Radiohead into the scene, while Thou Shalt Always Kill, the most straightforward and amusing attack on modern popular music, and attitudes towards it, is hummingly catchy and makes you want to tell all your friends that Scroobius Pip pointed out that all those bands we love and worship are just bands, nothing more! It's great balloon-popping fun, and it certainly gave me that child-like excitement of hearing something said by someone else strike a chord within you.

The album closer, Waiting for the Beat to Kick In, is worth the wait...although if you are going to go by the song title, you'll wait a long time: dan le sac and the Pip manage to hold off that all important beat until you feel yourself physically thirst for it, while weaving a dreamscape of didactic encounters and tips for the future.

"If you can't forgive and forget, how's this? forget forgiving, and just
accept that that's it"

is perhaps most the striking line that trips off Pip's tongue, and certainly the most stark attempt at enforcing an attitude of tolerance, and letting bygones be bygones.

In keeping with the album's title track though, it's not pure refutation of failing hip hop standards or undiluted attempts to open the mind of the listener. There is some good new-fashioned fun in there too, as the beats and rhymes suggest a reformation from within: dan and Scroobius want to influence the scene from within, not without, with a mastery of language and sound that I've rarely heard recently.

"Thou shalt always remember that guns, bitches and bling were never part of the four elements, and never will be"