360 records from the year 2000: 310 - 301

310. City of Prague philharmonic: A history of horror

It’s a great idea – highlights from 28 horror movie soundtracks from 1921’s Nosferatu to 2000’s Lighthouse (don’t know that one actually). The Prague philharmonic does a great job. Only thing is, maybe it’s the selection of music, or maybe horror soundtracks just aren’t as classic as you’d guess. Certainly the first half suffers from uninspired, un-horror-like sedate movie backing music. Yes, the selection from 1959’s Peeping Tom is a nice exception, but for the first highlight you have to wait until the familiar strains of Tubular bells from The Excorcist. It’s good to know every year has its rendition of Mike Oldfield’s classic, but I’d doubt this is the best place to hear it. An unexpected disappointment. No fault of the Prague Philharmonic though, who’ll pop up later on with a much stronger record.

At its best: Peeping tom, The exorcist, Suspiria, Halloween

309. Fatboy Slim: Greatest remixes

I don’t go out much, and this wearying high energy stuff is like a different world.

At its best: EVA (Jean Jacques Perrey)

308. Chris Rea: King of the beach

This is what Knopfler would be like if he was boring all of the time.
Somewhere in there is the philosophical crux: ‘People are like seasons / And seasons change’. Deep.

At its best: All summer long, Sail away

307. Medeski Martin & Wood: The dropper

Picture this familiar scenario: the band is in the studio. In between takes the keyboard player hits on a few unexpected sounds, the drummer starts tapping some patterns in reply. All of a sudden everyone is caught in a swelling groove. The rhythm section is looking at each other, ‘How did we get this tight?’. For once the soloists manage to hit that sweet spot, riding the groove instead of flying anywhere fancy takes them. Everything fits together like a puzzle. It’s not a jam, it’s collective improvisation, and it’s alive. The mood rises and hits a peak and, like magic, everyone knows exactly how long is long enough. They set the beast down and stare at each other in befuddlement. What happened? The keyboard player cracks a smile. Finally, someone asks ‘Say…did you record some of that?’ From the control room: ‘What? Sorry…’ This record is the exact opposite of that.

Or, it could be I’m wrong. I just don’t understand. Could be, but I like to think I know my way around a record. Trying to sell this as some kind of brave experiment – sorry, but I don’t hear it. It’s just a mess of vapid improvisations without center or purpose overdubbed to hell to disguise its failings. Sometimes there are guest artists, none of whom seem to have insisted on getting an actual tune to play on, all of them wisely stay as far in the background as possible. The band don’t seem to have a clue what they’re doing either, getting the guest credits wrong on the cover (Marshall Allen is on ‘Fèlic’ not on ‘Partido alto’, guys!). But then, I get they didn’t listen back to the record that much. To call this a record – now that’s a brave experiment.

At its best: Note blue (the only track that seems to have some sort of compositional idea at its root, Marc Ribot bravely tries to fit anything as ‘square’ as a chord progression into the track).
At its worst: We are rolling – the concept of recording the first sounds you’re putting down to tape never sounded so boring.

306. Tracy Chapman: Telling stories

Quality songs about real human experience can be so very, very boring.

At its best: Wedding song, First try

305. Sonic sum: Sanity annex

Finally, that really depressing hip hop album I’d always hoped existed somewhere. But…it’s a drag.
There’s a lesson in there somewhere.

At its best: Downtown maze, Eratika, Flatlands, Window seat

304. Mooney Suzuki: People get ready

In garage rock it only takes 30 seconds to separate the pretenders from the real deal. These are pretenders.

303. Carly Simon: The bedroom tapes

I’m thinking about the title’s obvious reference to Dylan’s Basement tapes. It’s quite accurate. Just like you can easily imagine scruffy Bob’s favourite room of the house being the basement, Carly’s favourite room is probably the bedroom: scented candles, a view of the gardens, see through lime green curtains, custom made ‘organic’ looking furniture. (I’m just describing the picture in the artwork, by the way). 

The basement is a kind of woodshed, ramshackle, nothing on the tv – we’ll make our own fun, kicking back with friends, dirty shoes, some booze, who cares if the neighbours don’t like the noise, egos at the door. The bedroom: it’s a temple to yourself – if you live alone, some people just spend too much time with themselves. It’s a place where middle-aged people start stupid hobbies like pottery. It’s a bit precious, and almost certainly lacks vitality. It’s where you go to ‘shut the world outside’ and focus on the quality of life.

Anyway, couple of good songs (So many stars, Scar) but mainly insufferable famous/rich angst.

At its worst: Big dumb guy (middle age woman rejects the internet!), Actress, We your dearest friends (critiquing superficiality is pretty superficial in itself).

302. Lucky bishops: Lucky bishops.

Neo-psych on Nick Saloman’s label. Couple of good little ideas, but just too average.

301. Madredeus: Antologia (1987-2000)

It’s very beautiful, certainly the most beautiful fado with new age synth music I’ve heard in 2000. But…it’s not for me.

At its best: Oxala, O sonho, O mar