Capsule review: Hakan Hellström - Ett kolikbarns bekännelser (2005)

There's something alien about great pop, but to go so far as to sing it in Klingon. Actually Swedish.
This is Hellström's reflective, acoustic album. Think expansive folk-and-tropicalia blend, rather than Nebraska. A joy and his best.

Capsule review: Impressions - This is my country (1968)

We'd need a Curtis Mayfield now.
No record has an ending as triumphant as This Is My Country's title track. Makes you feel you've made it through. It's a record of hope.
But we're still going.

Capsule review: Paul Bryan - Listen of Paul Bryan (1973)

Hey you, listen of!
A soft rock classic on a bed of bossa nova from charmingly lisping Brazilian bedsit pianist. Early '70s gold.

Capsule review: Black bananas - Rad times xpress IV (2012)

Royal Trux gone Funkadelic. Thrilling when it works ('Rad times'), just confusing when it doesn't. Surely not everything needs to sound like the bottom of a fishtank.

Capsule review: Beatles - Revolver (1966)

Stoned moptops giggling reach platonic ideal. Still baffling.
That by today's standards it sounds somewhat impersonal, only shows how far we've slid down the path of self absorption. This is an adventure story.

Capsule review: Kevin Ayers - That's what you get (1980)

Screw Piketty. Ayers told us all we needed to know back in 1980. 'Ooh, money, money, money / where does it go / it always goes back to the rich'. The record only revs up on side 2 when Kevin takes on the world of commerce (again). First side's ruminations on mid-life crisis love ('There are no guarantees') sound kinda desperate. Must be all the Carribean rhythms.

Capsule review: Shirley Collins and the Albion Country band - No roses (1971)

The past is another country. Medieval Albion. London folkies in the early '70s. I can't make heads or tails if this is about ancient court life or about hippie student housing. But I'd sure like to visit.

Capsule review: Flying burrito brothers - Gilded palace of sin (1969)

Chris Hillman and Gram Parsons' shining hour. They pedal steel through country originals, pay tribute to Dan Penn and do some affecting gospel pastiche. They also do quaint hippie Vietnam stuff at the end of both LP sides, but let's forgive 'em. Sneaky Pete shines, harmony singing like brothers separated at birth, and songwriting so out of this world they didn't have names for it yet ('Hot burrito #1', 'Hot burrito #2'). Cosmic, they called it. Weird name for something so human.

Capsule review: Donald Fagen - Morph the cat (2006)

Remember when only the surface of those late (first phase) Steely Dan albums sounded boring? Fagen's expanded since then.

Capsule review: Flying burrito brothers - Burrito deluxe (1970)

Wild horses couldn't drag him to giving a shit about making another record. Should've been a single.

Capsule review: Blur - The magic whip (2015)

If you believe the interviews, around 1997 Albarn turned into a conveyor belt of noodles and sketches, beamed straight in from the collective subconscious.
The Magic Whip was post-produced in a NASA lab, but still wears the half baked jam well. Who would've thought 20 years ago Blur would be one of the stalwarts for tossing it up in the air and watching where it falls.

Microphobes - Launch pad...part 4: Between thought and expression

The straight man

The Microphobes - Launch pad part 4

Between thought and expression

Right, back to where I started: It all happened in a matter of days. One day I rode around town listening to Slanted & Enchanted and I felt a burning conviction my next musical step was to build a song-by-song answer record to this totem. A foolish idea – I took to it immediately. There's no inspiration like a really bad idea. If Pavement could scrabble that record together over Christmas leave, who's to say what I could accomplish over life's Indian summer, 2007? A string of songs tumbled out in the heat of ambition: 'One less singer', 'Unhand her', 'Twins', 'Progress ranch', outtake 'Weird season', 'Rock brigade'. The backbone of what turned into Launch Pad.

'One less singer' (which could have been called 'Shoot the singer' but that would've been too obvious) and 'Unhand her' were the first. I remember picking up the guitar right after my moment of clarity, turning on the amps and just playing both those riffs. As if they'd been waiting through those long synthpop weeks for me to come to my senses. Like Paul scribbling down the New Testament right after tumbling off his donkey. Then again they're not rocket scientist riffs. Both songs are at heart three note basslines, running without variation throughout. All of the melodies played on top were developed in due time. None of that was there from the start. In fact, the melody riff for 'Unhand her' originally didn't quite fit the bassline. There was a little syncopation necessary to make it work. But it's not that kind of song. The hardest work was dumbing that melody down to fit the grid. All to serve the forward momentum. These were some primitive sketches. Anyone could've played them. And right from the start, what hooked me was the physical pleasure in tearing through them on a guitar with the amp turned up loud, windmilling implied power chords. It felt good.

For words, I was looking around the room for inspiration. 'Unhand her' was a return to guitar so it felt right to sing about about some of our amps, a WATT, a CHAMPION and a CONTENDER. That became the last verse: 'What champion we got, a champion, a sweet contender etc.' But through further free association the first verses turned into a dusty old frontier town bearing down on teenager tableau, then it morphs into a depiction of horsetrack excitement. You unhand the horse and she's off in the race. A tribute of sorts to Bob Nastanovich (who wasn't on Slanted, I know, free association, remember).

Everything just worked on 'Unhand her'. It started with next to nothing, yet it quickly turned into one of the Microphobes' most ebullient, uplifting anthems (well, two out of three). It doesn't sound like anyone ever wrote it and I hardly feel like I did. We spent some extra time on the guitar overdubs. Alright, a lot of time, but that was just 'cause we couldn't stop playing it. When PJ played the Dinosaur Jr guitar solo over the end part, I could've cried tears of joy. It gave me goosebumps. Still does. And yet, maybe it's just me. One night I smuggled it into band rehearsal. I figured this was one song that was gonna sound amazing played by a four piece band in the moment. Two of us even knew the song before we played it. The room was filled with blank stares. Back to reality. But in a specialist field of one (me), it's a classic.

'One less singer' follows much the same template, but more sludge. I sang some lines-ah like Mark E. Smith. It was still a Slanted tribute after all. Sort of crossed with the chorus of Pavement's 'No life singed her'. Two takes of the guitar solo. Neither worked, but played simultaneously we got just the right amount of mayhem into it. Plus a dying amp right at the end. We knew that had to be the master take. The amp needed guitar shop surgery. Never tried this one with any band – to my regret. The words are a blur, even to me. One take accident. Those falsetto backings on the chorus on the other hand – unh, not first takes.

Soon enough we expanded out field of vision a little to include subsequent Pavement albums. Eclectic, huh? Sometimes an intense focus helps creativity. Limit possibilities. Sometimes. 'Twins', Launch Pad closer, was written to the tune of Brighten The Corners' 'Fin'. A monumental song full of elliptical feelings. They're in the guitar notes, in the epic instrumental (with backing aah's) ending, in the absurd resignation of the prison architect. 'I trust you will tell me if I am making a fool of myself'. A cornerstone. 'Twins' is, well, it aspires to be in that lineage. I'm fond of the drum build up on the end section. They lyrics may sound impenetrable, but if you can imagine them as sung between the singer and his imaginary twin, then... I'm sure they remain impenetrable. What can I say? I was going for a stream of consciousness flow on these particular songs. The amazing lead guitar playing is by PJ. Imagine what he could've done beside another songwriter. Any other!

'Progress ranch' is more of a Wowee Zowee Western ballad, though in this case the similarities are less striking. We were moving away from the template. Still streaming that consciousness on the lyrics, though. I sang that song straight through one time and I've been puzzling the meaning for eight years and counting. Seems apropos my present situation as much as it did back then: am I past my prime? It almost feels like this song has some answers, but I'll be damned if I can figure it out. Musically I played some acoustic guitar in the background and some spartan bass on this recording, but's it's all about the dusty drumline and those amazing lead and slide guitars. I'm glad I got out of the way and let my partners fill in the long coda. And yet, it got dropped from Launch Pad at the last hurdle in favor of a later song. More later about the faulty decision making when I initially finalized the record. Thank God for second chances. It's not like anyone heard the record anyway. Reinstated.

We were on a roll, but you can't sustain that moment of giddy inspiration indefinitely. There was one further song, 'Weird season', written according to established formula by now. Rudimentary bass line, improv lyrics, guitar layering. But it needed extra parts, a bridge to the chorus, an instrumental section. Never the best sign. It turned out nice. Maybe the riff was a little less carefree, maybe the lyrics didn't quite have that zing. Enough to convince me it was time to get the hell out of dodge and find new vistas to plunder for inspiration. Thank, Pavement, and so long.

But not before a final, joyful declaration of intent. That noise fest that opens the record.' Rock brigade'. That's nothing Pavement-esque. More Guided by Voices, classic rock filtered through art noise. I believe I sang that song through a guitar amp distorting freely. It felt very cool, but I never found another song on which it worked. Probably cause soon after I graduated into my Sinatra-esque ballad phase. I'm certain the keyboard part was likewise filtered through heavy guitar distortion. Sounds piercing. For some reason I thought the bass should only drop in about halfway through the song. Stunning out of control drumfills by Bert. The song is sort of a West Side Story theme, the Rock brigade (mid-90s version) vs the Rock rock nation (2007 equivalent). My heart on sleeve statement of intent in favour of the mid-'90s indie scene, which seemed more alive to me by far. But also a goodbye. You'll notice the lyrics sort of make sense, barely. It was goodbye to the stream of consciousness fad. And what's more, the return of keyboard! The Pavement fever drifted off with the morning sunrise and I was left wondering what the hell I'd been up to these last couple of months. A tribute record to Slanted & Enchanted? Oh brother, how'm I gonna finish this record?

https://soundcloud.com/user-560432285-452933133/sets/microphobes-launch-pad-disc-1
https://soundcloud.com/user-560432285-452933133/sets/microphobes-launch-pad-disc-2

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