dinsdag 13 oktober 2015

360 records from the year 2000: 185 - 181


185. Elastica: The menace


Energetic, chaotic, fun, with in the 2nd half a surprising excursion into 70s moody synth stuff. Only problem: most songs are kinda slight. You forgive them while they’re playing, but afterwards it’s hard to remember much about most of the songs.


At its best: Nothing stays the same, Miami Nice, The way I like it

184. Rage against the machine: Renegades


Yeah, I know, it’s a brute and unsubtle groove they have, but I can’t say I’m immune to this engine room. At its best it rocks. Zach de la Rocha is another thing.
Unsurprisingly it comes together best on the hip hop tracks they cover on this all-cover album (their last before splitting up, so there could be something of a contract ending motive in there). It’s a wise move to program these at the start of the record. ’Microphone fiend’ and ‘Pistol grip pump’, ’Renegades of funk’ and ‘I’m housin’’ – I don’t know the originals but I’d be a liar to say I’m not into these versions. De la Rocha doesn’t have to do anything but use his familiar declamation style - effectively. The rock and folk tracks they attempt are pretty embarrassing though. ‘Kick out the jams’ is slow and without energy. ‘The ghost of Tom Joad’, ‘Maggie’s farm’ and especially ‘Street fightin’ man’, well, a damn sight worse. The way these not-too-wide-ranging vocal melodies get forced into a single note, that’s just wrong. But the band also fails – they know how to rock, but they’re trapped on the beat. No freedom.


At its best: Microphone fiend, Pistol grip pump, Renegades of funk, I’m housin’
At its worst: The ghost of Tom Joad, Street fightin’ man


183. Al Di Meola: The grande passion


I’m sure we’ve all heard how ant societies are just as complex and structured as human societies. They’ve got their sets of laws and customs and etiquette. Each little ant has his own place in the grand design of the colony, and acts out his life’s purpose without much deviation. You might see a little ant going about his way, and wonder what’s the use of that, but he knows. And, as is usual, you probably won’t see one little ant, but a whole bunch of them together, crawling over one another and in a million different directions. That’s exactly as it should be.
It looks like a bunch of ants crawling over one another without much sense to me. A bit like fusion.

I was going to review this album with a riff on that famous movie sketch ‘Dude, where’s my melody?’ ‘Where’s your melody, dude?’ ‘Dude, where’s my melody?’. Sadly, as I listened more, I found that the record is just bursting with melodies. It’s a shame I had to give that up. So, bursting with melodies all crawling over one another in a million different directions. You’ve got Al doing his best all by himself, his highly accomplished band and, of course, to fill any remaining silence, the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, who play like each of them is reading two scores at the same time.
The weird thing is, on about half of the tracks, the slow ones, it’s actually really good and beautiful. The stretch from ‘Prelude: Adagio for Therese’ (symphony solo) to album center piece 'The grand passion’ is exquisite. Very refined and sophisticated, of course, but not without emotional impact. It hits me like a wave. Just play it loud enough. It’s got soul, it’s got blood, it’s got grit – well, maybe not grit. ‘Double concerto’ is deliciously melodic, even the simulated pan flutes can’t turn me off. ‘Soledad’ is moody and introverted.
On the fast ones though, whether they’re straight ahead fusion or confusing fusion-world fusions, it’s back to studying ant society.


At its best: Double concerto, Prelude: Adagio for Therese / The grand passion, Soledad

182. Badly drawn boy: The hour of bewilderbeast


Britain’s answer to Elliott Smith. Captivating set of moods and lo-fi arrangements. Once in a while the thought creeps up to you that a mood could have been developed in a full song, but only occasionally. It has a way of keeping you hanging in there.


At its best: The shining, Once around the block, Pissing in the wind, Disillusion

181. Bjork: Selmasongs



First try at reviewing: How many circles of hell are there? There are seven on this album.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When I planned to approach this project open minded, one of the things that immediately popped into my mind was to start appreciating Björk. She’s amazing, right? You got to love her.
Never mind that this album is the songtrack to what is by some distance my least favorite movie of all time, ‘Dancer in the dark’ (just electrocute her before she starts singing, please!). At least it’s not as bad as that. It’s a lot shorter for a start (you knew I was going to say that, right?). It’s an affront to only one of my senses, so that’s a plus.
But what the hell is this? Can anyone honestly tell me they listen to ‘Cvalda’ and enjoy it?
Tolerable point: Scatterheart

Second try at reviewing: Let’s try that again. Easy putdowns aren’t enough in this case.
‘Open minded’ listening isn’t really accurate for what I’m trying to do. Who can pretend to be ‘open minded’ when it comes to aesthetics? Who wants to be – it would mean giving up pleasure as well as pain to become some sort of neutral arbiter. What I’m trying to do is be honest about what I’m hearing, honest to myself first of all, not let it be colored by received wisdom but let my own ears do the judging, and confront my ears with some records my received wisdom would have me ignore. And indeed along the way I’ve come to the conclusion that some really uncool artists (from my perspective) have made some excellent records (you’ll see). And then there’s Björk and the soundtrack to what my own eyes have told me is the worst movie I’ve seen, and the music was some part of that.
‘Overture’ starts the record off inconspicuous enough. Few would argue this as anything more than a standard orchestral movie opening melody. Without vocals or anything else that resembles Björk’s bag of tricks, it could be made by any number of artists. The melody is quite nice, and it builds to a satisfying little climax.
‘Cvalda’: what is this? Really, what is it? I can see some of what the point is (fantasy turns factory noise into musical soundtrack) but I have no affinity for the point at all. And even so, ideas are well and good but in execution this is all over the place. It starts with some factory noise and there are about two lines of singing/shouting over it, but then it just cuts into the real song. So much for developing the idea – it’s just taped together with something else, something incongruent. Then it lapses into some kind of big band horn riff but with electronics and placed in some weird rhythmic arrangement which doesn’t swing at all – again, I don’t get the point.
‘I’ve seen it all’ (duet with Thom Yorke): the only thing I can say about this song is that it evokes the soul-sapping dullness of the character it portrays remarkably well.
‘Scatterheart’: I can still hear why I initially earmarked this one as a better one. The vocal is quite nice, evoking real feeling. But once again, why is it placed over an inappropriate seemingly random backing track which sort of hiccups onwards towards the door without achieving any of the emotional tension that the vocal requires? Weird decisions all around.
‘In the musicals’: is this the one with the ping pong percussion?
‘107 steps’: oh right, this is the one where they count from 1 to 107. Something about going blind and counting the steps to your destination. Of course it’s part of a movie plotline, but these themes just don’t resonate with me at all. And I don’t think they would even if I did go blind at some point, it’s not about empathy with the blind, it’s about the kind of artistic decisions that force me to formulate sentences like ‘it’s not about empathy with the blind’. It’s so artificial and deliberately ‘out of the box’. I mean, Björk perceives reality so … differently from everyone else, right? Isn’t it a bit calculated?
‘New world’: fortunately the best comes at the end. This song, I don’t know why, but this song about imagining what comes next, what will become of us, is real to me. There’s a sense of wonder in it that I can feel. And for once, music and vocal work toward the same goal. It’s like she knows what she’s doing.
So, that’s it, just at the end, she gives me a shimmer of hope. Let her live.

Edit: It kind of blows me away now.


At its best: New world

Geen opmerkingen:

Een reactie posten