It's all in place for Kubickek! The sovietesque moniker, the exclamation
mark, the modernist sleeve, that groovy art rock sound. Sometimes that
criminally overused word 'angular' doesn't seem enough. 'Angularity' is
equally silly. While 'Angularification' on the other hand is completely
made up: as in the phrase 'the angularification of the music scene.' [One
day, many years in the future, someone will google angularification and
stumble across these dusty tomes] It happened very quickly. Two years
ago everyone was in a garage band. Now it's Forward Comrades! Let's write
new scores to that scene on the Odessa Steps: the Tsarist oppression,
the soldiers feet, the guns aimed at the people, the pram that rolls,
the wheels of change, the birth of revolution. The Odessa Steps, now that
is a good name for a band! I think I'll write to The Maccabees and suggest
it.
Here's a tip for aspiring young bands. When the rep from the pressing
plant offers you the choice of standard black vinyl or (for 'just an extra
pony per hundred, guv, and I'm robbing meself') intergalactic azure with
glitter and flecks, resist. Resist. So maybe they've been watching The
Sky At Night or something; maybe they wanted to capture the profundity
of existence and something of the eternal that might remind us that true
love lasts forever. Which is nice, but it sounds like it's been pressed
on sandpaper or something. Otherwise, nice tune.
Long
Blondes - Separated By Motorways (Good & Evil 7")
I read somewhere that The Long Blondes are the best unsigned band in Britain.
I'm not convinced. 'Separated By Motorways' does nothing for me. The Thelma
& Louise theme is quite interesting but the music is flat with its
thud-clomp-thud-clomp beat and seemingly uninvolved vocals. It has no
zing, no pizzazz! The b-side is better, but it's still sounds very early
1990s indiepop underground (A cue perhaps for a really ultra-super-obscure
and possibly expensive counter-recommendation from history? 'Debbie One'
by The Tony Head Experience.)
International
Karate Plus - Black Christmas (FFVinyl 7")
Fair play to the IKP kids for actually getting their Xmas single out just
in time for Xmas. Not easy when you're bottom of the manufacturing food
chain and there's two billion chart records to press up by X-stars and
Girl 'bands' and God knows what monstrosity riding on the wave of novelty.
Black Christmas, geddit? I presume they started planning in June. As far
as I'm aware they've done two rekkids so far - yes, no, more? (I really
should do my research.) The two I've got are both excellent - especially
'Nexus In A Chain Of Thought' - but they will remind older residents of
(er, I hate the expression but) 'early Pavement' - all groovy chords and
wacky observations like: 'lapsang souchong, how I wish I wasn't wrong'
and 'I only want you for your stationary supplies.' But I'd rather have
that than all that dreary pompous stuff: i.e. anyone who uses the word
'requiem,' i.e. The White Rose Movement.
There
isn't a moment on this CD which is anything less than heavenly - or, at
least, not until the Blue Oyster Cult cover but we shall come to that.
First up is the traditional 'Rosemary Lane' replete, as one might hope,
with dizzy maidens and itinerant sailors, and great wafts of misery. But
this is just the beginning of our descent into the vaults of sadness.
Their version of Durutti Column's 'Tomorrow' is drenched, scarred, funereal
yet totally enchanting. It's followed by another traditional, 'Black Is
The Color' - sprinkled liberally with gentle bell-tinkling and a mesmerising
version of Nico's 'Afraid' which sounds so 1960s it's unnerving. 'Blue
Mountain' lifts the mood slightly with its promise of blueberry wine.
I don't dislike 'Flaming Telepaths' but, with its flamboyant guitar solo,
it does seem slightly incongruous with what's gone before. It's rather
like when you see the cover of the first Sniffin' Glue fanzine: Blue Oyster
Cult? Are you sure? But, hey, I'll tell you what, it doesn't matter. Incongruity
or not, this is still a flawless masterpiece of mournful contemplation.
Were they all Espers numbers rather than covers and trads it would be
the greatest folk rock album so far this century. It still is, I guess.
I know nothing about Little Wings other than they were one of Devendra's
golden apples. These two tracks, according to the insert, were recorded
live-to-acetate. Which is bizarre enough but, more than that, the lyrics
are 'improvised'. If that's not reckless I dunno what is. Who needs a
studio? Who needs a song? Let's just do the single when we get in the
cutting room. Somehow I can't see them going for that down at Abbey Road.
I wonder if they rehearsed? Or would that have somehow diminished the
purity of it. All of which sounds like a recipe for mishap. But actually
it's quite nice. Good vibe in the background: tambourine, angelic sighs,
toys, rattling things. The singing is kinda like, I dunno, Herman Dune
just on the cusp of losing consciousness. A moment of foolhardy yet unadulterated
tenderness.
Lucky
Luke / King Creosote / South Downs / Immigrant - The Whisper EP (Chaffinch
7")
I loved the Lucky Luke album so there was no hesitation in getting this
EP. 'Please Bomb Slough' is a broody nest of nu-folk twigs upon a slightly
rhumba-ish branch. Not sure about the title. 'Please Bomb Slough' - isn't
that incitement to terrorism under section 72 of the new Dontfuckwivus
Act. (Then again 500 7" singles is hardly an incitement to anything,
as my Gran always used to chuckle.) I think I know what they're getting
at though. Slough represents materialism, the urban, the suburban, the
modern, the breakdown of community, the vulgar, the corporatisation of
the high street, the Americanisation of culture, an uninspired youth,
the devaluation of human endeavour, the new slavery, the pointlessness
of a satellite town, the distribution centre, the easy access to the M4,
the industrial estate, the death of hope, repetition and process. Slough
is everywhere. It's not just Slough. And somehow I don't think folk rock
is gonna save us but, hey, it's worth trying. Do people ever gig in Slough?
I wonder if Lucky Luke had a bad experience there or something. It would
tie it all up. Anyway, this EP is on the new Chaffinch imprint and contains
other stuff: including a rather chirpy song by South Downs and a skybound
organ number by Immigrant.
*I've
just been informed that the incitement to bomb Slough is in fact a reference
to Betjeman. Once again my ignorance of 20th Century verse has left me
exposed and ashamed. But then you're dealing with someone here who thought
The Wasteland was written by Paul Wellar and, once, when my poet friends
were discussing Dylan I thought they were talking about Bob Dylan - whoever
he was.
I'm not sure quite how much scrutiny this record requires. None really
but, shttt, it's freezing outside, there's feck-all on telly, and I ain't
got one of those Xbox things they're all banging on about. Anyway some
reviews are completed in the time it takes the needle to complete its
125 revolutions or so. This is one of them. Basically, The Envelopes (sweet
but potty French/Swedish hedgehog-pop combo) are enquiring of some unknown
third party as to whether the latter's sister is really in love and whether
perhaps she might reconsider cos the guy ain't all that and he's got an
evil streak or twin or both. Anyways, they ask the question about two
zillion times and don't get no satisfaction. Probably cos it's none of
their bleedin business. If the girl's happy let her be. I seem to remember
'It Is The Law' being equally limited in its vocabulary. Perhaps they
only know a few key English phrases. Which begs the question: why not
sing in French or Swedish? It's not as if the records sales are gonna
plummet. Hell, I wish. I actually love this throwaway stuff if I'm honest
with you. I feel so alone. Ahh but whatchagonnadoo. It requires no scrutiny.
Sweet and potty, you know the score.
Although this record is about heartbreak and pretty much nothing else
don't think it's a downer or anything, quite the opposite. The music
is just so good it's uplifting despite the spirit-crushing catalogue
of awkward silences, break-ups, walking-outs, dark thoughts, and those
damn telephones that never ring no matter how hard you stare and wish
and plead. And what's the point of ringing them? They never answer or
they're engaged or out painting the town while you suffer. Hmmph! Yet,
well, equally striking is the big smile across Edith's face on the cover
(reverse) having possibly just alighted from the carousel ride on the
cover (front) - so she was happy when the photo was taken. And, hey,
it's just art, just a distillation, a crystallisation. I'm sure she's
not in a permanent state of heartbrokenness. I hope not. [Wow, I
just wrote heartbrokenness and my spell-checker - that inveterate bully
- didn't underline it! That was a pure guess.] But 'sorrow is the
way to love' and lends itself towards great art. Sure, bad art too.
But sorrow has a greater batting average than anything else. BLUES innit
see! It's A Game sits comfortably in the great tradition. Er,
no, stands erect at the mantlepiece. It tells a story, it fills you
in on the details. Heartbreakin and aching and all the door slammin.
There are four or five marvellous songs: 'A Mirage', 'If It Weren't
For The Words', 'Lovin' You Goodbye', 'Lucky Charm' and the title track
itself. Bluesy without being boring. What can I tell you? It's just
a lovely record to play on dark evenings, alone, together, or driving
home from the call centre with a bottle of wine and two bags of Maltesers.
It's on Drag City. They do the heartache so you don't have to.
I haven't heard an Aberdeen record for ten years, ten long years. I have
to scratch myself. And this is not the elfin-like, timid creature I remember
from Sarah discussion evenings couched around the one-bar, exchanging
cassettes with increasingly disillusioned friends. All very philosophical
- you wouldn't understand: 'Oh no, the latest Sarah! I prefer the early
funny ones. Golden Dawn. 14 Iced Bears. Sea Urchins. I want groups named
after biscuits and cats, not obscure granite towns.' We were changing
the world with our taste. But now this Aberdeen animal has matured, has
teeth and long legs allowing grand views of the pavilion. It's not, I
might suggest somewhat recklessly, a million miles away from The Go-Betweens
or even The Guillemots for that matter. However, it's sales won't reach
0.1% of latter because consumers are fickle, fashion-led and, let's face
it, head-spinningly disorientated by the choice. I know, I'm lost at sea
and I bleedin profess to know shit. That said, this is a nice, confident
serving of adult-orientated song that won't disappoint, say, fans of Trembling
Blue Stars and, errr, (what they call on the continent) 'easy-pop.'
