280. Delta 72: 000
Particularly unconvincing genre exercise in ‘turn of the 70s’ rock’n’roll.
At its best: Sun the secret prince279. Braxton, Anthony: Four compositions (GTM) 2000
2000 came and went and no jetpacks appeared. It’s no wonder that the most important evolution in ‘00s music proved to be in music that sounds like something dropping down a flight of stairs. Sure, the line was an easy cliché in earlier music criticism to deride/praise almost any kind of chaotic passage in a performance. But it was in the ‘00s that artists with an almost scientific zeal explored the many dimensions of sounding like something dropping down some kind of stairs. The factor ‘stairs’ alone is a multi-dimensional parameter that reflects our consumerist society of choices: straight stairs, straight stairs with intermediate landing, quarter landing stairs, half landing stairs, single winder stairs, double winder stairs, arched stairs, spiral stairs, compact stairs, interior stairs and exterior stairs, helical stairs, alternating tread stairs… All these types of stairs come in different materials, as important as the wood inside a Gibson Les Paul: brick stairs, concrete stairs, glass stairs, marble stairs, metal stairs, pavement stairs, carpeted stairs, stone stairs, tiled stairs, wooden stairs, alabaster stairs… And that’s before we get into the different sub-parameters like treads, risers, nosing, bullnoses, stringer boards, winders and trims. And of course the wholly differentiated sub-genre of railing systems. ‘Merzbow at the Penrose stairs’ is the ‘Floyd at Pompeii’ of the ‘00s. I believe by 2010 musicians were just getting into the paradigm shift of actually dropping stairs down a flight of stairs.
Well, either that or this sounds like Sylvester chasing Tweetybird around her cage for 70 minutes. But in a pleasant sort of way.
278. Calexico: Hot rail
Burns and Convertino’s reputation as the Americana Sly & Robbie is well deserved. They’ve been in the engine room for a lot of great records. But not their own under the Calexico-banner. Calexico’s always struck me as the emperor’s new clothes in reverse: the can stitch a great coat, but they’ve got nothing to hang it on. The sumptuous arrangements (mariachi horns, strings, xylophones, keyboards, Shadows-style lead guitar…) do nothing to make up for the lack of songs and personality. Disappointing.
At its best: Mid-town (a whirlwind of out of control drumming, backwards keyboards, dust clouds of discordant guitar notes – but still, no song to hang it all on)277. Saint low: Saint low
A record out of time. They talk about music standing still since … (well, since when? ’78, ’86, ’95?), but hearing a record so stuck in the early ‘90s (more specifically, turn of the ‘90s American college rock, remember American Music Club?) amidst what’s left of 2000, gives the lie to that. The record just doesn’t belong, and not in a good, uncorrupted by those wicked modern and click track recordings-way. Not that it’s bad at what it does, but with its earnest singing and words, the all too basic chord shapes, the strings-meets-college rock template (remember the acoustic songs on ‘In Utero’ and how they spawned a dreaded mini-genre of alternative-rock ballads in the mid-90s?), it’s a sad record without a home. Yes, it’s more subtle than the picture I’ve just painted, but in the end that’s what it comes down to – bad memories of other acts they should have heeded.
Well, that and, two high points aside, the songs just aren’t there – that lemon had been squeezed dry already.
At its best: On the outside, Walk on by276. Peaches: The teaches of Peaches
First impression: early 80’s Prince transposed to 2000, sly, fun, irresistible. But listen more and it turns out to be a cynical ride, and really, the tunes are kinda monotone.
At its best: Fuck the pain away275. New pornographers: Mass romantic
I just can’t stand these guys with their smarmy, empty music. It’s really good modern alternative power pop indie, but it’s pointless. It’s just dead air, you know. I couldn’t find a human emotion in there with a magnifying glass and a paint gun. I was listening to this and reading Lester Bangs’ Lou Reed hatchet job ‘Let us now praise famous death dwarves’ at the same time once, and out of the whole constellation I couldn’t make up my mind who was most full of crap, Bangs or the New Pornographers. Reed seemed like the only decent guy in the bunch.
Other than that, great record.
At its best: Letter from an occupant274. Ravi Coltrane: From the round box
Ravi is the son of John and Alice. With all that talent on both sides of his family tree, I was expecting to be bored with good intentions.
That’s a little unfair, but still. There’s a John Coltrane vibe on this. Not necessarily Ravi’s playing, which is more rounded and smooth than that of his father. But in the compositions and group context, there’s something questing, which reminds me a little of ‘Meditations’ maybe. (Nothing as far out as that and certainly not as some of his mother’s records though.) But besides setting the scene, it doesn’t mine great depths. It all sounds very in control and deliberate, but nothing memorable or unexpected. Like advanced schoolwork. I have to mention how beautifully recorded the music is. But it’s missing that personal touch maybe?
Opener ‘Social drones’ is a nice exception, containing both a beautiful and wonderfully arranged theme and some effective soloing, reflecting the players’ individual perspectives. I can recommend it.
At its best: Social drones273. Mazarin: Watch it happen
Inconsequential indie pop fluff. Nice single ‘Chasing the girl’, but that’s as far as it goes.
At its best: Chasing the girl272. Oranger: The quiet vibration land
Indierockers managed or record labeled by Spiral Stairs. Nice try and all, but this band is never going to be the future.
271. Cinematic orchestra: Remixes 1998-2000
If you ever feel in need of a really good talk about microphone placement, contact these guys. It’s a shame it doesn’t get any deeper than forty-five minutes of rad intro’s though.
At its best: Moving cities
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