Death to conservative music journalism.
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Worst Albums Of All Time
- The Clash - "Cut The Crap"
- U2 - "All That You Can't Leave Behind"
- MGMT - "Congratulations"
- The Verve - "Urban Hymns"
- Bob Dylan - "Christmas In The Heart"
- Weezer - "Make Believe"
- Red Hot Chili Peppers - "Californication"
- Metallica - "Metallica (The Black Album)"
Check out the full Worst Albums of All Time chart!
- Worst Albums Of All Time: MGMT – ‘Congratulations’ on
- The thought of a new Red Hot Chili Peppers album makes me weep for humanity on
- Worst Albums Of All Time: Red Hot Chili Peppers – “Californication” on
- Worst Albums Of All Time: Red Hot Chili Peppers – “Californication” on
- Worst Albums Of All Time: Red Hot Chili Peppers – “Californication” on
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- December 2011
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Posts by AceMcWicked:
Humans are social beings. Evolutionarily speaking, we have moved towards living in larger and larger communities. People with large social networks have power and influence. People who have no mates are dubbed ‘Nigel No-Mates’, and other people assume that they’ll live at home with their parents well into their forties and they’ll even go as far as to speculate that there’s ‘something going on’ between them and their sister.
In many respects this is why popular music has become so important to our lives; it is the soundtrack to our socialising. Ever since our Neanderthal ancestors first said “Hey, this party is a bit quiet, let’s put this Leo Sayer record on” a good soundtrack has been part of every major social life event; be it a ‘party’, ‘wedding’ or ‘community meeting to decide what to do about the large number of immigrants moving into the area’.
What people want though, as well as music, is variation. No one wants to listen to all of Frances the Mute, from start to finish, with all the weird pots-and-pans noises and moaning inclusive. People want a selection; the choice cuts and the exemplars.
From the need to ‘keep the party rocking’ arose ‘the playlist’.
Now, I know what you’re saying. You’re saying “But…but…I have playlists just for myself, for going to the gym or for surreptitiously watching my cousins disrobe and such”. I bet you’re saying it in a stupid voice too.
Well, okay. You do. Well done. What we’re talking about though is playlists for other people to listen to.
Like any discipline that has evolved over time, much painstaking thought and diligence has gone into playlisting. It is, in essence, a science.
One tune per artist
This is a general rule. Basically, people new to playlist development should stick to it. No one wants to listen to an entire Empire of the Sun album, no matter how well randomised it is. It defeats the entire purpose of developing a playlist in the first place. There is basically no entire album everyone wants to listen to. Cripes, even The Stone Roses has ‘Elizabeth My Dear’!
If you are a more sophisticated playlist technician, however, you may wish to experiment with following the ‘playlist duplication formula’. This formula is as follows:
General Popularity of Artist x Back Catalogue / Amount of Filler in Back-Catalogue
If an artist is popular with your audience (or, say ‘any audience’ – ‘The Nirvana Principle’) and they have a big back-catalogue then you may consider more than one tune. However, some popular artists have an immense back-catalogue but loads of it is just album filler or repetition (the ‘Pearl Jam Principle’), and this must be factored in.
This is what allows you to have four David Bowie songs on a playlist and only one Gold Panda one.
Just the hits…
Again, this is a general rule and it does depend on the audience, but you should start from the principle that people want to hear the hits, particularly from certain artists. You put an E.M.F song on a playlist for example, it probably should be ‘Unbelievable’.
Nobody knows as much about music as you do and most people want to hear music they know, so start from this principle.
…But maybe a few talking points
This is where you show your music knowledge; rather than being as obscure as possible (which, to be honest, isn’t that hard – most music is ‘deep cuts’ and ‘album tracks’) add a few interesting talking points. Obscure artists doing famous songs is a good one, or try and find, say, literally the worst Snoop Dogg collaboration. Basically, anything that will create a talking point.
Even if that talking point is “This version isn’t as good as the original Red Hot Chilli Peppers version”.
Context is important
No matter how much you like techno, a playlist made up entirely of Underground Resistance and Tresor tracks isn’t going to be appropriate for your aunt’s funeral. Probably not even appropriate at the wake or the after-wake party.
Even if you are trying to create a dark and foreboding sense of urgency.
If, however, you were asked to fill in for the DJ at Berghain because they had the squits from a bad bratwurst, you wouldn’t inflict Coldplay, or other funeral music on the crowd of up-for-it Berlin clubbers.
People want to hear different sorts of music at parties as they do in the supermarket. Even different sorts of parties have different musical ‘vibes’ to them. If you are partying with former New Zealand Prime Minister Mike Moore, you might want to listen to lots of Chicago and late-seventies jazz-infused soft-rock but if, later, you head to another party filled with youths, a playlist with lots of Diplo and Garth Brooks might be more the requisite ‘dope jam’.
Read your audience, learn them. Learn from them. Synergy.
You are being judged
In any fair society, people are judged on what they listen to. It also isn’t as simple as ‘Bad people listen to Slipknot and good people listen to Pharoahe Monch’ because, while this is certainly true, there are nuances to it. You can send messages about yourself or what you wish to say by the choices you make and then play to your public.
You may want to impress upon people that you’ve ‘been raving for years mate’ by stacking your playlist with lots of early nineties breakbeat hardcore. You may want to impress upon people that you really aren’t a racist, so you add lots of Black Milk or Public Enemy tunes. You may wish impress upon people that you are a boring dickhead and thus you add several Mumford & Sons songs.
Music is a tool of communication and not solely one that’s wielded by its creator alone; it can also be wielded by the selector. Or ‘selectah’ if its ska.
And that’s what its all really about isn’t it. Communicating with our friends. Sharing.
Give me a hug.
In this weblog communiqué I review every single act at Auckland’s 2015 Laneway Festival so you don’t have to. You can do something else. Like make a list of Sabaton songs, and which historical wars their lyrics make reference to.
In the interests of brevity, they are all 140 characters or less. So you can Tweet them. If you are so inclined.
Bespin – shoegazey kids that look like they’d have been ID’d getting in. Kids today. Look, they’ve made me spill a Vodka Cruiser on myself!
Princess Chelsea – In my head sounds like Tracey Thorn formerly of Massive Attack. I mainly hear music in my head, so this is a good thing
Angel Olsen – moody soulful sometimes heart wrenching songs. Which is how I’m feeling because I dropped another Vodka Cruiser. Also, a Kiwi?
(It was at this point I was informed by my girlfriend that the act I was watching wasn’t Angel Olsen. which explains the fact they were from New Zealand and a band.)
Tiny Ruins – See above review of Angel Olsen.
Connan Mockasin – Stick about until he opens his mouth to sing because my girlfriend says he sings like someone strangling a cat. And she likes cats.
Perfect Pussy – Fuck yeah! I had never much rated this lot before but they really pull out a killer slate of punk rock to kill their slot!
Angel Olsen – After confusing me the first time, she came back to deliver quite the show. I love Unfuck the World. But then, who doesn’t?
Vic Mensa – We were lured away from the bar tent with a sample of Schoolboy Q’s ‘Man of the Year’ and were surprised by bumping party rap
Courtney Barnett – everyone was whispering “You have to see this guy”. I mainly liked him because he made the bar and loo queues thin out
Mac Demarco – Okay, you got me, I didn’t review *all* the bands. No one can review *all* the bands its just not possible!
Jakob – Were how they always are.
Iceage – Whichever fuck-a-lugs put them inside one of the silos inadvertently scored as it suited their aesthetic of heavy post-rock noise
Royal Blood – On my list to see and they delivered it fast, hard and hot. Like a good delivery pizza. Except maybe not the ‘hard’ bit. Yuck.
Rustie – Perfect soundtrack to waiting for a wee while you use the last of your phone battery to check pillreports dot org
Jungle – Was expecting big things but they mainly reminded me why I sometimes say I’m a socialist. Well, okay, more “their crowd” than “them” I guess…
Ariel Pink – When he’s doing music and not talking to the press, Ariel Pink is fun and eclectic and reminds me of art. Good art, not bad art
Jon Hopkins – I needed a dump something monster-style so I did that. I’m sure he’s as good at electronic music as he is at being a hospital
Angus & Julia Stone – I pretended I liked them cos I thought my girlfriend might like them, but she didn’t so I said “phew” = Communication.
Banks – Never has cider tasted so bitter and ash-like in my mouth as the cider I bought while Banks started and thus made me miss her
Future Islands – Who’d have thought that funny little bloke could sing like that? Well, anyone who’s heard their records. i.e everyone
Sohn – Tried to catch the end but were cruelly locked out by over-crowding. Also realised the cider may have been ash-like cos it had bits of cigarette in it
Belle and Sebastian – I’m not at university & am not trying to get other university students to have sex with me. And its not 2001. Therefore missed it
Little Dragon – Should really be called ‘Big, massive, show-stealing, fuck me I’ve got the eye-wobbles Dragon’ though it might be a bit clumsy
FKA Twigs – I imagine there were lots of people who really enjoyed them as much as I enjoyed taking another dump. So we all enjoyed ourselves
St Vincent – Had a nice bit of distance from the crowd for this one. About a kilometre. Met a new friend. Not St. Vincent herself, a bloke from Auckland
Flying Lotus – Show of 2 halves; the half that I was wasted for, which was oddly worse than the second, where he played stuff off Cosmogramma
The Auckland leg of the Australian-based Laneway Festival has rapidly become New Zealand’s best show-case festival of indie music. Pretty much every year the line-up in of guitar-pop cooks, and each year the range of acts has expanded to encapsulate a lot of interesting music. Notable has been the expansion of the array of electronic music and hip-hop heavy-hitters.
As well as having a hot line-up Laneway is probably one of the better organised festivals, especially for one that’s slap-bang in the middle of downtown Auckland where nothing usually works properly. With an array of actually edible foods on sale and almost enough porta-loos, it sets in apart from most other rock festivals I’ve attended. The crowd is usually pretty chill and relatively shirtless-douchebag-free. Sure, the ‘drink buying’ exchange-your-cash-for-tickets-and-your-ticket-for-drinks carry-on is fucking idiotic but I think this has more to do with the pearl-clutching, Tutt-Tuttarati at the Council than it does with the actual festival organisers.
Laneway has its critics, sure, and the people who aren’t couching their criticisms in asinine cat-calls of ‘hipsters!’, ‘man-buns!’ and ‘I like real music, like Pearl Jam!’ sometimes have a point. Laneway has sometimes tried to be all things to all people, and what some people have called ‘variation’ and ‘choice’ can be seen as ‘maybe not focusing on being, say, an indie festival.’
Also, their line-up in 2014, probably the best in my opinion, was show-cased poorly. This poor show-casing saw massive hip-hop acts Run the Jewels and Danny Brown being relegated to playing a stage that was effectively the size of someone’s front yard and also led to the wistful folk music of Cat Power following electro-pop mega-hit band Chvrches to close the festival. Not ideal.
2015’s festival ironed out some of these show-casing concerns (In fact, they literally ironed out one of them; the mounds of dirt which created an amphitheatre at the too-small Cactus Cat Stage were flattened to create easier access and more space). The organisers in 2015 finally managed to get their hands around the throat of the snake known as ‘running out of booze’. They slowly suffocated this snake by gradually limiting the time and the amounts of booze they could sell, and clearly advertising what was going on to the punters. How’s that for a metaphor?
There were roughly the same amount of toilets, sure, but the festival vastly expanded the range of things you could intestinally-process and dump in them – the range of different foods on offer bordered on the ‘lets-make-funny-jokes-about-hipsters-and-their-wacky-diet’ territory. While I like hot-dogs on sticks, I appreciate lots of other people want more range and Laneway offered it aplenty.
While I’ll get to specifics about the acts that played in my next blog post, I’ll say that over-all the festival was probably a little bit less up-beat or poppy than previous years. There was no massive electronic pop groups, or much in terms of loud, fast rock. This isn’t entirely a criticism; some of the quirkier, quieter acts were among the better ones.
Stand-outs acts? Well, okay, if you want. Obviously, Future Islands. But of course you were expecting this. Surprise stand-outs however, Perfect Pussy, Little Dragon and Vic Mensa however…were you expecting that? No. So shut up.
Royal Blood brought the rock, and Flying Lotus brought the ‘weird idea for a closing act’ and over-all Laneway 2015 was off the proverbial hook.
Also, so you don’t have to take my some-what dodgy word for it, keep up to date for NEXT year’s Laneway Festivals so you can get off your arse and go yourself.Tweet
Clearly among the front runners in the UK’s ‘great indie hopefuls’ for 2013, Birmingham’s Peace were apparently the best think at this year’s SXSW music festival since ‘large rimmed glasses’ and ‘not acting like you’d think a Texan would act’.
They’ve chucked a lot of the album up here on Soundcloud, which is frightfully nice of them. I am still coming up with some meaningless superlatives to describe their sound, by which I mean I am still digesting it, but have a listen yourself and have a crack.
One of their cracking tunes is below. Enjoy, and Peace out. Yep. I went there. The NME may have beaten us to the album review but I beat them to the joke. Well, okay ‘joke’ is pushing it too…
In 2011, when Unknown Mortal Orchestra released their debut self titled album, not liking Unknown Mortal Orchestra in some circles was considered a crime against New Zealand. It was a bit like saying you didn’t like The Hobbit or Sir Edmund Hillary .
If I’d been better looking I’d have been labelled an ultra-hipster for my view that they were over-rated and that there was nothing ‘stand-out’ about them that raised them above the rest except for their Mint Chicks pedigree.
The thing is, I was wrong. I was wrong because I missed the point. Unknown Mortal Orchestra didn’t write stand out tunes that jumped out at you and that you felt straight away. The thing is, they did stand out but they stood out in your mind later – the complex, meandering guitar, the strange drum patterns, the vocals buried deep in the mix. I should have known better. You could say that I was late coming to the party.
I wasn’t going to make the same mistake about their sophomore effort and luckily for me I didn’t have to because, to get my biggest criticism of II out of the way early on, its not a massive progression in terms of style.
Another reason I was unlikely to hold the same initially silly view of II as their first album is that it does grab for instant accessibility more: tracks like One at a Time couples the trademarked Orchestra/Chicks drum-line with catchy riffs, melody and toys with the risk of a brass instrument for melodic effect. This is my favourite track.
So Good at Being in Trouble, shown below, indicates this movement to accessible and ‘pretty’ pop.
In many ways So good at Being in Trouble sets the tone of the album, even the more musically interesting tracks. The Opposite of Afternoon’ and No Need for a Leader are the most energetic tracks on here, but the energy is lighter and less immediate than anything on the debut.
The delight I (eventually) derived from the first album was that within the fuzz and chaos there were tunes that stuck in the back of your mind, almost as if waiting to appreciated later. With II, you have the same ‘save it for later’ beauty, but its not buried amongst the noise but in soporific guitar. The driving drums are still there, if anything they are more exposed and thus heavier on II than the debut.
As pretentious as it sounds to call something a ‘think piece’, and most of the time I hate any piece of music someone tells me to think about, there is no other way I think of describing why I like Unknown Mortal Orchestra and this is a rare rare thing.
It will probably come as an immediate revelation to some people, but remember, I was late in coming to this party.Tweet
Much like anyone, up until recently I thought I knew everything. Well, okay, not everything; I mean I knew that I knew very little about lots of things I wasn’t interested in but because I wasn’t interested in them they were unimportant.
So really, up until recently I thought I knew everything important.
Then in 2010 I had what, if I were a religious man or a man prone to cliché, could only be described as a Saul on the Road to Damascus experience; in 2010 I discovered The Replacements.
Yes. I discovered The Replacements, seminal 1980s American indie rock band in 2010. A mere twenty years after their last album was released, and I think I just slid in under 19 years since they broke up. The thing was, I had heard of The Replacements, fuck, I had even seen the movie ‘Can’t Hardly Wait’ (with a soundtrack almost entirely by a band who didn’t pass me by at the time; Third Eye Blind…but that’s another blog post.) I just had never registered their importance. Despite being one of the most important and influential bands, well, ever.
This opened my eyes to the fact that maybe, just maybe, there were important things that I didn’t know, maybe life’s journey was one of constant learning and the gaining of wisdom. More importantly however, it made me think there may be other bands I had missed that really I shouldn’t have.
Moments of self-discovery can often carry with them serious emotional tumult and a good way to stay grounded is to take an inventory of your life. Well, I sort of did that.
The Modern Lovers: It is actually not that surprising that I missed these guys; they were only an active band between 1970 and 1974 and their recordings were not released until 1978. Nevertheless, their proto-punk sound could have been the back-bone of what US punk became; lo-fi and rough but more in the direction of Velvet Underground/Nico psychedelia than the fifties rock’n’roll template that was followed by the Ramones.
Okay, I’d not beat myself up too much about missing these guys until a year or so ago if it weren’t for the fact that they are pretty much a staple of any ‘Nuggets’-obsessed, garage-rock snob. They are also fucking brilliant.
Saul2Paul Damascus Tune (or, ‘tune you should listen to’): Old World
The Nerves: I actually owe Mike this one: I’d still be living under the slimy rock of ignorance regarding this seminal band were it not for him. The Nerves were a mid-70s US power-pop band, who like the Lovers (notice how I am shortening the band’s names now, like I’ve known about them for years…fucking poseur) only had one notable album release. Thing is, that one release is the tits: high energy and raw pure pop. I listened to fucking Patti Smith often enough; where the fuck were the Nerves.
They had a huge influence on the very early LA punk scene and bubbly, well-crafted pop songs like ‘One Way Ticket’, ‘Walking Out on Love’ and ‘When You Found Out’ are, well, better than anything that came from that more celebrated milieu.
Saul2Paul Damascus Tune: One Way Ticket
Eric B and Rakim: As anyone who knows me, knows I am pretty ‘street’ so it might come as a surprise then that I came to this most influential hip-hop duo through The Cool Kids’ first album in 2008. One of the greatest things hip-hop producers ever did for musical trainspotters was name-check their influences in their music; the Cool Kids’ constant references to Eric B and Rakim meant I discovered the 1980s, James Brown sampling, innovators a mere twenty years after they changed rap music. Less tinny sounding and fuller than most hip-hop producers at the time, their use of funk and soul samples, meant went on to influence pretty much everybody else after them. What dawned on me when I first heard ‘Eric B for President’, ‘Follow the Leader’ and ‘I know You Got Soul’ was how eerily futuristic it must have sounded. Or, in my case eerily contemporary.
Incidentally, their breakthrough hit outside the US was a remix of ‘Paid in Full’ by another artist who I ignorantly overlooked until about an hour ago: Coldcut.
If only rock bands made constant references to their influences in their music. Okay, yeah, Oasis, but other bands…
Saul2Paul Damascus Tune: Paid in Full (in as much as you will have heard literally every part of this tune in other tunes)
At The Drive In: Believe it or not kids, this is actually not my most embarrassing oversight but it does need to be mentioned that I actually didn’t hear any At The Drive In and consciously know what it was until 2002. This is embarrassing because not only was this post-hardcore band potentially the most influential band of the genre and far and away the most musically creative (okay, yeah, I am leaving out Refused’s ‘Shape of Punk to Come’, just give me this hyperbole…), but this band were also happening while I was supposedly into music. I know, I am a pillock.
Do I even need to tell you a stand out track? No. I will however, give you a track I love because it neatly segways nicely into my next embarrassing band oversight: listen to ‘This Night Has Opened My Eyes’ – it is not At The Drive In’s best tune, but it is a cover of another little known band, The Smiths…
The Smiths: To a certain kind of guy, admitting you don’t know who The Smiths were is a bit like admitting that you didn’t actually understand what happened in Inception or how sexual intercourse works.
To be honest, you can probably fake an understanding of conjugal obligation more easily than you can fake knowledge of Morrissey and Marr’s back-catalogue; so widely revered is their music and rabid their fandom.
Up until I was twenty-one, I had never actually heard of The Smiths.
Do you want me to describe The Smiths to you, or recommend a tune? No? Of course not, you know them all. Everyone does.
Anyway, I am sure that I am not the only person who doesn’t know everything; up until 2010 I thought I was the only person who did know everything, so please, feel free to share.
I am sure none of your off-the-radar bands are as embarrassing as not knowing who The Smiths were.Tweet
As Mani announces his departure to devote his life to the Lord’s work (by which I mean, obviously, the reformed Stone Roses) and front man Bobby Gillespie channels the spirit of Spinal Tap to announce the next Primal Scream record will be based around ‘one chord’ I think it is timely to have a look back at the godlike genius that is Primal Scream. Aside from being based around, one can only assume, The Greatest Chord Ever Known, Gillespie also told NME that the next record will also be very heavily influenced by their 20th anniversary touring of their classic Screamadelica album in 2011.
So, will it be Screamadelica 2?
I sincerely hope not.
I will firstly point out that Screamadelica is one of my favourite records of all time. My Top Five’ change fairly regularly and but it’s unlikely that there has been a time when Primal Scream’s epic pean to the party to end all parties has not featured in it. Screamadelica is a record that encapsulates, almost perfectly, the symbiosis between indie music and dance culture. ‘Loaded’, ‘Come Together’, and ‘Higher than the Sun’ are anthems for the ages, and Screamadelica is, in my opinion one of those rare records that captures a ‘feeling’ as much as a ‘sound’ every time it is played. And I came to Screamadelica nearly ten years after its release.
The problem is that Screamadelica captured a moment in time, and it did this by being new and refreshing. For those who come to that moment in time later than on, such as me, there will always be Screamadelica. There will also be a host of other great records, with
a host of new takes on that experience. Bobby Gillespie was initially skeptical about whether or not people would be interested in Primal Scream touring the album for its twentieth anniversary. Obviously people were; many people would never have seen Screamadelica live but this does not really mean that people need the album rebooted.
The Primals have had problems with the past in the past. The abysmal 1994 follow-up to Screamadelica, ‘Give out but Don’t Give Out’, was the flabby, boring, white-blues record it was mainly because for a while there Primal Scream thought of themselves as a resurrection of the Rolling Stones in their hey-day. In a cruel twist of fate, the first single off of Give Out, the submoronic chant that is ‘Rocks’, was to become the Primals’ most recognisable song and biggest chart success until 2006. Critically, and indeed, the in the way history has judged them, Give out but Don’t Give Up was a disaster. It was this
disaster because it tried way too hard to be either Let it Bleed or Sticky Fingers. Or maybe Exile on Main Street. I can never be totally sure because of course it isn’t quite any of them. The Rolling Stones are god-like geniuses but let’s not pretend anyone needed to hear them slavishly rehashed in the nineties. The same fate, I feel, could befall Primal Scream again if they refry their own past.
The other big reason a rewrite of Screamadelica would be a massive mistake is because Primal Scream are more than simply ‘one trick ponies’. It is understandable when say, The Strokes, keep releasing the same album over and over again to ever decreasing excitement; that is ‘their sound’. There’s nothing wrong with it, it is pretty appealing in fact, but it is pretty singular. Primal Scream is not a band like this. In my opinion two of their best albums, XTRMNTR (2000) and Beautiful Future (2008), show that they have a depth of varied creative talent.
XTRMNTR was a brutal opus of an album, overtly political; the lyrics are chucked hurtling along with the tempo or the beat. The radical politics were initially lost on me; I actually saw XTRMNTR as the other side of the dance experience: the head-mulching rush of euphoria in ‘Swastika Eyes’ and the fuzzy paranoia of ‘Kill all Hippies’ made a
shuddering contrast to the ‘hands in the air and hugs’ of Screamadelica. XTRMNTR holds up in a way that other records that
inspire a similar speed-freak sensation don’t because, at heart, it is a rock’n’roll record more than it is a collection of dance anthems.
Beautiful Future, as beautiful as its name suggests, is beautiful in a whole different way to the wide-eyed trance-bliss of Screamadelica. Beautiful Future is unashamedly pop; well crafted songs with catchy beats and catchy lyrics. Their 2008 album, if it owes anything to anyone else, it owes it to New Order’s later work than anyone that ever pulled on the leather trousers of rock’n’roll.
As much as the dewy-eyed nostalgic devil on our shoulder may make us wish, there should never be another Nevermind, another Relationship of Command, another Sticky Fingers, or another Screamadelica. Bands that have the creativity to make music this good also have the capacity to be different, and that is what a band as godlike in status as Primal Scream should always aim for.
Incidentally, the song to eventually better Primal Scream’s ‘Rocks’ chart performance in 2006 was a little song called ‘Country Girl.’ In my opinion this was a song that was very appropriately used in a Levis’ jeans commercial because it was a pile of pants, but I have
since discovered I am in a minority of one by holding this opinion. Country Girl was a catchy piece of Americana-influenced pop music off of the amazing Riot City Blues album that couldn’t have been further from the long shadow cast by Screamadelica.
On this blog we are sometimes regarded as dewy-eyed optimists. Well, we are sometimes regarded as being nice about things anyway. At some point though the laughter and good cheer has to stop and you have to see the wood for the trees. Sometimes we even have to see the wood, or in this case the social, and hygienic unpleasantness, about something we hold very dear to us. I have always liked going out. I would rather go and have a beer with literally anyone than sit at home and face the dark void where a cooked meal, clean dishes and a vacuumed rug should be. This has led to some interesting nights out with some interesting people and every one of them was better than the alternative. I especially love going out and seeing music. I love live music but I am also chuffed with a decent DJ. Bands are usually better live, dance tunes are usually better twatted and your mates are funnier and cooler under the influence of poor lighting and alcohol. I like going out.
Well, most of time.
There are some parts of the experience of going to a gig that make me quite literally (because I couldn’t mean it any other way really) go home and write a bile-laden blog post.
Here are five of the best reasons to turn on the heater, do the dishes, and, erm, well, not cook maybe, but at very least order pizza. Reasons why we have iTunes and no mates.
1. Facebook Gaggles.
I like the onward march of technology as much as the next guy and I love social networking. I love the freedom it has afforded us to express ourselves and show our friends and loved ones what we are doing. I even love the fact that you can go on Facebook and, at the click of a button, see 592 photos of your friends, with their arms around each other’s shoulders, smiling for a picture while a band plays a world-shattering and potentially life-changing set in the background. What I don’t love however is being stuck next to a gaggle of these munts in a club as they spend the entire night photographing their seemingly ever-increasing group of BFFs while you are trying to actually, I don’t know, enjoy the band. It wouldn’t even be a problem, save the slightly stupid and mildly insulting fact that they are ignoring the music, if in order to take the photo they didn’t need the entire dance-floor. For fucks sake – take one photo and move on. You all look like shit anyway.
2. Swamp Toilet.
It is a well known fact that at every nightclub, at exactly 11 o’clock, the bar-staff press a button under the bar which causes the toilets to instantly over-flow; this serves to cover the floor with toilet paper, condoms, plastic baggies, vomit and of course piss and shit. No-one knows why they do this, I am going with ‘arcane tradition’, but there is no other way of explaining why this happens. I have been at gigs with three people in attendence and still had to wade through bits of someone’s partly digested Mee Goreng; at least three stages of said digestive process being stuck to my shoes. And who is taking a shit at a night club anyway? Well, I did used to ask this until I answered my own question: people on drugs. In fact, Government – here’s a ‘Keep Kids off Drugs’ slogan: “If you snort drugs in a club you’ll either have to take a violent emergency shit, or have to kneel in someone else’s”. Not catchy, but potentially effective.
3. Bar Wankers.
I am not referring to the long suffering bar-staff when I talk about the ‘bar wanker’, though I have actually met my fair share of those in my gig-going life as well. I’ll cut them some slack because it’s a tough job with shitty hours. The people I am referring to are the people who go to a bar, five deep with punters, somehow get to the front of the queue by the sheer force of their personality’ and then proceed to order something fucking pranny. We’ve all been just a bar-girl’s recognition away from ordering our pint when suddenly some douche-bag said bar-girl used to root cuts in and orders five Singapore Slings, a Drambuie and Radon and four pints of Pimms served in six Edwardian bowler hats. What a cunt.
4. Check Yourself. No really, you have to. And it is probably for the best.
Coat check is something you always want when its not there, but really wish you hadn’t used when you get the chance. Okay, I get that that is a hopelessly specifc analogy; more of a description of one particular experience than an analogy really. You have three choices at most gigs; die of heat exhaustion wearing your coat, get your coat covered in beer and over-flow piss trails from the toilets by leaving it hidden, or use the coat check and then be unable to get your property back at the end of the night because you lost the microscopic piece of paper you were issued, while heavily intoxicated, that you have to present otherwise you will quite literally, never be able to see your jacket again.
5. Train in Vain.
The best thing for me about going to a gig is the music. Secondary to that is several other things; having some beers with mates, getting twisted, showing off, or sliding over on a bit of lemon. For some however, none of these perfectly normal aspects of a night out appeal as much as moving from place to place. There are lots of these people too, because they always seem to be able to form a human chain, desperately snaking its way around the gig looking for the perfect spot; pushing others aside and spilling drinks in their single-minded quest. It is always a fruitless mission too, because these people do it all night; never finding where they are ‘up the front’ enough or ‘what happened to Sara’ they endlessly, and annoyingly, weave through the crowd.
Well, there are my top five. I feel better, and I didn’t even have to crack open the old chestnuts of ‘smoking outside’ and ‘booking fees’ which, while fucking stupid, are a bit of a cliche and something most of us have come to accept.
I might go out now…Tweet
That New York fall of 2001 the world changed forever. People often say that centuries begin not on the first day of that century but are forged in the clearing dust of a cataclysmic event. Few would argue that rock music was the same after The Strokes released ‘Is This It?’. For a while there it was a worry. For a while there at the end of the century those nonces that are forever saying ‘rock is dead’ seemed like they could be onto something. Through the blaring stupidity of a hundred sub-moronic nu-metal bands, the refried mulch of Pearl Jam’s 900th album, and the tongue-in-cheek death-throes of whatever-the-heck-wave punk it looked a bit grim.
But then came The Strokes, looking a bit like the Ramones’ cuter cousins and sounding a bit like The Stooges, made you wonder where it had been all this time because it was just so, so, rock.
Like it had been there all along.
But still, somehow sounding new. Lo-fi and garagey but also beautifully pop.
And of course there were others. Across the Atlantic it seemed like it was happening somehow in tandem. Carl and Pete’s band supported The Strokes when they first toured the UK and combining a raw, edgy punk sound with a sepia-tinged music-hall nostalgia, The Libertines made up the other part of the story.
There were others though too; loads more kids in skinny jeans with guitars and cool songs that made you wonder how Linkin Park ever sold a record and it is one of these ones, oft overlooked in the first rock story of the millennium, that I want to shine a light on – The Vines.
I know I’ll probably change the title of this post soon as it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue but it is relevant to The Vines: it might be strange to think of The Vines as overlooked. In 2001 they were a big deal in Australia, their debut single ‘Factory’ got heavy rotation in both the UK and the US, and their debut album ‘Highly Evolved’ pipped Pete and Carl’s arcadia-crack factory to the post. They always sounded slightly more ‘classic’ rock than any of their contemporaries; not as weird as The White Stripes, and they never had the fashion-impact of either two aforementioned trans-Atlantics. Their detractors and fans cited their heavy grunge and ‘Nuggets-era’ psychedelic garage-band influence in equal measure. They could write songs, especially of the rough-hewn, grimey rock style popular at the time (see ‘1969’ and ‘Highly Evolved’).
They had ‘next Nirvana’ shtick-promise scrawled all over them.
Oddly they befell a fate similar to another Australian band that found itself at the eye of a musical and cultural storm a generation earlier, The Saints. Releasing the first “British” “punk” single in 1975, The Saints may have gotten the music and even the attitude of punk but they never really had the image. Theirs was no filth, fury or fashion and arguably the lack of image or indie-cred is what hamstrung The Vines as well. The Strokes went on to mega-stadium rock stardom and the Libertines as a band, and in their component parts, exploded all over the British cultural and tabloid consciousness. The rest, they could say, was history.
The Vines did however, release three other brilliant albums. Their second album, Winning Days, was initially greeted with a hiss and a roar but as the anticipation subsided it was quickly revealed as a move in a heavier and more classic Oz-Rock direction. With, y’know, a couple of ballads.
Vision Valley, their third, is my personal favourite album – a thirty-minute no-fuss blast of punchy, immediate power-pop (‘Don’t Listen to the Radio’, ‘Dope Train’ and ‘Fuk Yeah’ being my stand-outs). ‘Melodia’ was much maligned (maybe, I always thought, because of it had one of the ugliest record sleeves in the history of pop) but to me this is their artistic apex – combining what was best about Highly Evolved but dripping with a heavier psychedelic.
The Vines, in my opinion, did what the rest of their contemporaries really didn’t: had an enduring and varied career. When we look back on the rest of The Strokes fare they always seemed to be chasing the same idea. One or two really cooking pop songs (12:51, Heart in a Cage, Juice Box) followed by same-same filler and for all their beauty and drug-fucked glory (and, yeah, okay, largely because of it…) the most enduring thing about the ‘tines in the sober light of morning is, heart-breakingly, unrealised greatness.
While I’d never want to say that musical greatness was an endurance sport, it’s usually the opposite, it is sometimes comforting to know there are modern bands that you can already argue stand up over time.
Introducing our newest contributor: Steven Sourman. In an attempt to balance out what Steven has referred to as the “liberal hipsterness” of Riot Radio, we’ve employed Steven to offer his more “traditional” view of music, for our more conservative readers.
I assume you are reading this in the evening, as this is clearly a ‘personal interest’ website entry and you couldn’t be doing that at work. If you are, cease and desist viewing this content at once! You will get fired because as we all know the internet sucks away time from your working day. Also, what you may not be aware of is that the internet not only sucks away your working hours but it somehow sucks away valuable information about your company.
Or your life.
To be honest, the internet should be avoided at all costs unless you are sitting at home, you are done with the newspaper, you have watched the television news and you have arrived at your allocated ‘internet use’ hour. I suggest 8PM. Get those emails out of the way first…
So I will assume that it is 8PM. Sharp.
In any case, while I am suspicious on the format, I thank Mike and Dan for inviting me back on to engage in a good, honest discourse on the ‘State of Modern Music’.
Tonight we discuss “Hip-hop”.
Now, I use the modern trend of putting a word, or phrase, in quotation marks for a reason; I am in two minds as to whether hip-hop is even really music. For a start, it wasn’t invented in the 1960s and it seldom has guitars in it. The Beatles never released a hip-hop record and I have my doubts whether the Rolling Stones ever did. While I accept that there have been some half decent musical genres invented since the 1960s, I am usually skeptical about them.
However, on the positive side, Prince did have one or two stabs at hip-hop on the cusp of the 1990’s and I have recently discovered, by way of Lupe Fiasco’s recent album ‘Lasers’, that you can find hip-hop music recorded on compact disc.
So I was, as you can imagine, divided.
Now, the thing with hip-hop is that it is largely made up of a series of electronic noises joined together with a person, or persons, talking in rhyme sequences over the top of this collage.
Sometimes it is performed by white people as in the case of The Beastie Boys but more often than not it is performed by black people, much like the aforementioned Lupe Fiasco or, because it is older and thus far better, Grand Master Flash and the Furious Five.
Now I can appreciate what hip-hop artists are trying to achieve, it is no secret they wish to sound like funk and soul musicians from the 1970s such as Sly and the Family Stone, Parliament or Funkadelic. The key problem however, which is their key impediment to all hip hop sounding like actual music, is they often don’t incorporate a ‘band’.
I have heard that some hip-hop artists on occasion do incorporate real instruments but when I asked about this at Borders the clerk gave me a look of incredulous insolence.
Sometimes I do wish there was a way of finding out about music that didn’t involve the occasion of good customer service in a major retail chain or reading a newspaper review, I really do.
Now I was going to cover electronic dance music in another chapter but since Mr Fiasco’s album incorporates a lot of this as well, I will simply say that this style is even less musical and is basically hip hop music performed by homosexual people and slightly more difficult to buy.Tweet