Liam Finn – Champagne In Seashells (Transgressive)
For an example of the varied guises and stylistic diversity that Melbourne-born wunderkind Liam Finn is now capable of, one need only listen to the closing track on this excellent mini-album. Captain Cat Is Crying begins as a severe and spooked sound collage complete with a brassily-intoned narration (remnants surely from some sick old children’s programming), gradually weaning from that source with gentle vocal samples, rhythms investigated and abandoned until the base ingredients of wonderful epic slope into view. Almost imperceptibly, Finn conjures pop majesty from the merest of beginnings in a truly brilliant finish.
That’s not to decry the five songs that precede it, however, for they are imbued with wit, with honest sentiments and keening, weary pop, fuzzed to high heaven but somehow polished. The whirling organ bedding of Honest Face serves as a perfect balance to the squeaking guitar lines and stomping chorus, but it is the sound effects of waves crashing that tie the record together, remind us of the title and crystallise it as a complete work more than just a collection of songs. If these principles were applied to Finn’s next full-length release, we’d be in for a real treat.
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This is out on the 21st September, and the review is in this month’s Artrocker. Which you should buy. Also, just so you know, there’s deliberately no references to Neil Finn in the review. I made the connection, but wanted to do a review that didn’t refer to it. He gets it all day I bet. More here.
Now, we may not have been right in our prediction, but boy are we pleased that Speech Debelle was selected to win this year’s Mercury Music Prize for her superb debut album, Speech Therapy. PM was at the launch of the album in Madame Jojo’s earlier in the year (thanks for the beer tokens, Big Dada records) and even as early as that it was clear that the record was unique at its inception.
You can read PM’s review of the album here and here, and our initial (brief) predictions here. There will now, no doubt, be countless observations of how, in actual fact, this isn’t so challenging as an album and therefore not worthy of such a win. It’s not supposed to be challenging, it’s supposed to be good – and it is. You’d do well to find someone who tells their stories so sensitively and, more to the point, who quietly opposes the conventional notions of females in hip-hop. Her vulnerabilities, masked by bald cheek, are at the fore and make for a deeply satisfying album that, musically, is tremendous fun as well. So, anyone with reactionary opinions that decry the record as merely being accessible hip-hop must consider exactly why that might be a good or a bad thing, and re-apply said opinion.
PM also changed addresses (we’re now just ’round the corner from The Hope & Anchor in Islington), so anyone sending stuff may want to send a quick email first to get the new one. Postal strike tomorrow though, yeah? Yeah.
PM has been a long-time fan of the ramblings of Euros Childs, and this brand new album track from his FREE album (entitled, in a non-mistaken way, Son Of Euro’s Child) out TODAY is as a good a reason as any to think that PM is always right.
Anyway, you can get hold of the album at Euros’ website. Try it!
Dieter Moebius, having been a part of Harmonia and collaborated with Brian Eno, here takes us on the kind of journey one would imagine taking with a slightly grizzled experimenter. There is gentle menace alongside the blueprints of some of his former works, but he is more than capable of creating sick unease and atmospheric sophistication that leaps into a bizarre dystopia. Not nightmarish in the traditional sense, Kram (translating as Stuff) is comfortable in its unrest, even encouraging us to conjure our own nightmares to accompany these slowly sprawling works. The pace of the record, though it is itself constantly mobile, is key to its success.
It seems a little backwards to attempt this, but the opening track from Dieter Moebius’ Kram must be viewed as a whole. The listener must perceive the piece to be one complete segment. When it starts with jarring Vangelis-derived synthesizer and aimless toying, Start is not so different to its own ending. The tonality hints at the major, but never lets it overrule the atmosphere of ponderous movement. Clanks and industry voice their opinions on the material. That there is a five minute period where rhythms are introduced and gently squeezed into being is irrelevant – it is the widescreen view that must be adhered to.
The album itself benefits from similar abstraction in consideration. Suites come to pass, taking in motorik propulsion and the occasional unfulfilled melodic potential. Treated licks of electric instruments are tantalisingly close to expanding into full-blown tunefulness, but Moebius has his sights set purely on atmospherics. At times, like on the haunted Womit, time appears to stand still. Textures refuse to progress at any pace unwanted by its creator, and Moebius expertly keeps things ticking along with just enough interest to capture the ear. Those melodic fragments swirl and want to be explored, but the nature of the compositions means that they must be sacrificed so as not to cloy the kinetics.
Though at times difficult to penetrate, quiet and reflective listening to Kram will reward massively. It’s heartening that such a sonic technician still exists, and relieving to discover that his music has not aged, but definitely progressed. Indeed, viewed as an entity as of itself, Kram will totally envelope, test and invigorate.
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This is out on the splendidly-named Klangbad records on September 14th TWOTHOUSANDANDNINE. Have a lil’ ear-gack.
Sleeping States – In The Gardens Of The North (Bella Union)
Markland Starkie has taken his time with this Bella Union debut, and it’s been absolutely worth the wait. Rarely are listeners likely to hear a writer who gives such balance to the realms of pop and folk music and the trappings therein. It is at once atmospheric and direct. Rings Of Saturn creeps without menace but with luxuriating intensity. Starkie is not so much driven by his bookishness as he is by the musical ascents he cleverly creates. Showers In The Summer, for example, shimmers thanks to masterfully beaten toms and careful cymbal, his voice buoyant amongst it all along.
There is something of the spiritual about some of Starkie’s flightier works. Josh Pearson is evoked on the sweetly-cooed Breathing Space, a beautifully judged piece that implies deep consideration of its musical gestures – clearly, the nuance of performance is a trait heavily valued on In The Gardens Of The North. This makes it, above all, a naturalistic, instinctive record with wonder and seriousness equal players in its success.
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This came out on Monday. PM DID REVIEW IT IN TIME, THOUGH, FOR GOD’S SAKE STOP WORRYING. Proof? Buy Artrocker this month. Music (lovely, super music) here.
With intimations this fiery, unfocused and sickly, it’s easy to find ample entertainment in Dave Cloud’s reasonably barmy incantations. Questions about this veteran Nashville Arthur Brown-alike might include the following for the uninitiated: Is he singing in tongues? Why does he have two voices? Does he have some sort of mental problem? The answers are unimportant when lines like “Did I say calypso? Well, shut my lips-o!” are peppered throughout this micro-masterpiece of tension and dirt.
Aside from the artful quirkiness on display throughout, it’s chilling to hear exactly how an elderly David Berman would sound on Try Just A Little – it’s uncanny. The freewheeling spoken-word final track, ‘In The Distance’ is brilliantly atmospheric, sounding almost like an after-thought, but with gravitas aplenty in the spooked tale of a courtship betwixt bugler and belle, providing a fine ending to this short (a shade over twenty minutes) but electrifying collection.
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This comes out via the inestimable Fire records on August 24th. Visit.
Hecuba are, if nothing else, utter experts at conjuring a menace that seeps. The boy/girl duo of a filmmaker and an actress are more than competent at maintaining that menace and mutating it gently into serious unease – the buzzing free-form ending of ‘Even So’ is a scintillating climax. Intense darkness surrounds the early stages of the record, with the borderline horror film nursery rhyme of ‘Miles Away’ standing out as paranoia incarnate.
More than just pantomime villains, Hecuba reveal the subtleties of this debut very slowly, but very markedly. Gradually increasing the bombastic synths and widening the contrast between a light spooking and terrifying squelching horns very slowly makes itself apparent, and the listener is faultlessly drawn in. Relentlessly, ‘Paradise’ prangs from Laurie Anderson motorik monotone to joyful keyboard explosion and into the lowest registers of what sounds like a piano being breathed into life by Godzilla. In short: a mood masterclass with enough dramatic pop fun to stop it being relentlessly bleak.
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This is out on 31st August via Manimal. That’ll be nice. You can also read this review in the latest issue of Artrocker. Which you should get.
