It’s surprising there’s a joke about the Monkees on the backcover, because the Heavy Blinkers only have one role model and that’s the Beach Boys circa ‘Today’ – ‘Smiley Smile’. To say they’re influenced is an understatement, it’s more like a reenactment with perfectly realized miniatures of Wrecking Crew arrangements – theremins, banjos, pedal steels, trombones, flutes, vibraphones, farfisa, timpani and strings from the Hawaiian all-star quartet all present and correct. And the yard sale of songs here – 21 in 48 minutes – is like a mini catalogue of Beach Boys-tropes: songs about summer and watersports (of course), seasonal songs, Smile-like instrumental interludes, ‘tone poems’ about barnyards and firefighters, and even a hulahoop song about Hawai-eee complete with stoned giggling (on the other hand, ‘Free Hawaii’ unfolds into a pocket symphony™ that’s probably my favorite song on the album, just like ‘Little pad’ on ‘Smiley smile’).
I like the Heavy Blinkers, and they would go on to make a far more accomplished record in the same vein, ‘The night and I are still so young’, but this one is a little underdeveloped. More like a set of model airplanes than an inspired record. It’s very charming, and I listen to it with a smile and without reaching for the skip button, but my favorites are the short snippets and experiments. The songs in between are not all there yet.
At its best: Dressing down, You can heal, Say there honey, Instruments of love, Crowned miss fire prevention, Chaplin’s Christmas, Marmalade, Free Hawaii
174. PUTTING THE MORR BACK IN MORRISSEY
2 and a half hours of downbeat, moody, vocal-free, only vaguely melodic electronica from Germany. There isn’t a single track here to get a party started, but a lot (maybe even 28) that could empty the floor like few other things. The first time it sounded like one long alienated wash of sound, the type of sound we’ve all grown so accustomed to in the 2000s, the sound 30somethings with higher education listen to on their commute to accentuate how alone in the crowd we all are in these mediated times.
Well, it still sounds the same, but I warmed to it considerably. What once were shortcomings, I’ve come to accept as merely neutral descriptive terms for a style of music, which I like when done well. It’s true that all these artists sound remarkably similar. Free from physical restraints (your voice and how it sounds, your fingers and feet and how they operate instruments in real time –all those things that make artists sound different from each other no matter how much they try to imitate) they can construct a precise reproduction in sound of the idea in their imagination. And it just so happens they’ve all got pretty much the same idea. But that idea was pretty new in 2000. Maybe Kieran Hebden was on the same track, but he wasn’t there yet. And it’s a nice, warm, moody but comforting sound. I can listen to it without worrying who all these different artists are – they’re unimportant, almost absent here. Instead they’ve stepped out of the way to present this stuff to the world.
At its best: Manufacture – Swollen car, Notwist – Scoop, Kevin & Paul – Die wunderbaren Jahre, E*vax – Glacier
173. Joan of arc: The gap
There is no more pretentious record in this list. There are very few records more pretentious than this. I can fully see why most people will turn this off with a groan. I understand why it gets one and a half stars on AllMusic (‘they’ve gone just a little too far, or had too many ideas but none of them good’). Any melody in these recordings has been surgically removed by extreme editing and inserted random sounds. There isn’t even any logic to where the track numbers change. Still, I heard this and I didn’t know how to make sense of it. How often does that still happen? And… it’s a mess, but I like the sound of it, and over its 40 minutes it all falls into place three or four times and when it happens, it’s really something.
At its best: As black pants make cats hair appear, Me and America (or) The united colors of the Gap
172. Logan’s sanctuary: Logan’s sanctuary
At times enjoyable, at times just too cheesy. This fictional soundtrack runs through all the expected settings (and keyboard settings) but doesn’t really add up to much. Remains steadily in the shadow of that other retro-future soundtrack of 2000.
Edit: No, no, no, I’m enjoying this.
At its best: Islands in the sky, Search for tomorrow
171. Paolo Conte: Razmataz
In Batman there is a loose knit alliance, the Batmen of all Nations, in which inadequate heroes from different countries dress up like silly versions of Batman and try to fight inadequate villains in their respective countries: Man-of-Bats, Wingman, El gaucho, Knight and Squire… You’ve got the same thing in music, where it seems every European country has their own inadequate Tom Waits. Or, as they’re also known, the local drunk singer. In Belgium we’ve got Arno, whom some of our continental friends might know, or even some Canadians – I’ve heard he’s a bit popular there. In Italy there’s Paolo Conte.
For all I know I could be way off mark, but he sure sounds drunk. This, I understand, is music for a stage play, which explains all the different singers (so maybe it’s not him that’s drunk, but he sure wrote it that way). At first it left me flabbergasted. The title track sounds like Astaire dressed as a clown falling into an orchestra. Not your usual stuff – what follows veers madly from piano ballads to old timey jazz, to orchestral segues, to opera singing, stage musical ballads, dance routines… It’s a bit much. But there are some little gems scattered throughout, in a French Tom Waits-y style (both the singing and the barking years). It’s quite crazy, and for that alone I quite enjoy it.
At its best: Paris les paris, Guaracha, It’s a green dream (1st version), Talent scout man, The black queen, That’s my opinion, Mozambique fantasy’
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