Filthy Dukes / Jackpot / Crookers
Like eighteen out of twenty graphic designers, the one behind Filthy Dukes' single cover embraces the imagery of a pyramid meeting the eye. No problem. It's a nice looking sleeve and the 12" inside is worth listening too. Imagine Manfred Mann's Earth Band recording a funkier version of that annoying Ghostbusters theme song. Can't get any better than that? It can. There's a remix by Fred Falke. Maybe the track offers nothing we haven't heard before from our favorite filter house guru, but it's still a nice piece of work. The cream of the crop? Emperor Machine of DC provides us with a one hell of kick-ass remix that sounds like it was actually Giorgio in person producing that wicked Manfred Mann session!
Speaking of eighteen out of twenty, that's approximately the frequency of Permanent Vacation Records putting out a perfect release of nu-disco. Jackpot's flanger heavy Ragazza goes swaying somewhere between old school italo and Queen's Radio Ga Ga with a juggling bassline very reminiscent of a Roland Jupiter 8. I must say I like it a lot, the b-side alas being not so interesting.
Meanwhile, Ministry Of Sound's German division is re-launching the Crookers' huge club anthem, Kid Cudi's Day N Nite. Too bad that a track that's been available for something like twelve months now seems nothing but an overplayed dinosaur. What a noble legacy for the year; One will always remember 2008 for Crookers, bassline, blog house, and as a year when Youtube video killed the recording star. MoS is truly beating a dead horse.
Filthy Dukes: This Rhythm 12"
(Universal 2009)
Record rating: 9.0/10
Jackpot: Ragazza 12"
(Permanent Vacation 2009)
Record rating: 8.00/10
Kid Cudi / Crookers: Day N Nite 12"
(Ministry Of Sound 2009)
Record rating: 7.0/10
tiistai 10. maaliskuuta 2009
Halfspeed you Black Mountain soundalikes
'Twas the squarest of times... or was it?
There seems to be a wave of bands drawing their inspiration from the 70's, taking not only the best, but also the worst aspects of the Rotten Decade and fortifying them. Busy imitating the lost hippies who nurtured their minds with a hazy mixture of psychedelia, progressive and hard rock, the guys from Arbouretum have all these influences and clearly they listened the right records through with a loving ear. This album is maybe the best, most depressing piece of suburban low-rent postpsychedelia since Jade Stone's posthumous Mosaics from 1977. You can imagine a lonely aging deadhead listening to this album at 11 am, already dead stoned from honey slides, mumbling how music these days sucks, especially glam rock and disco, desperately trying to tell himself that Uriah Heep on a good night can be almost as good as Iron Butterfly on a bad night. It's a nice vignette they are pulling, but unfortunately it's also just as depressing as its true predecessors, and listening to more than couple of tracks of this otherwise ok album will make you fear that your life starts running half speed for good.
Another candidate, Julie Doiron, seems to represent the style of indie rock that... um... well... the style of indie rock that originated when a long long time ago Lou Reed convinced Mo Tucker to sing on After Hours. Later Doiron throws in some pretty well snarling guitar, á la P.J. Harvey / The Kills. Especially on Consolation Price and Spill Yer Lungs . So you know the influences and I guess you can imagine what this record sounds. Nothing too special. But well, the melodies are actually nice or even catchy and I have no problem with the idea of putting this on again from the start. The lack of originality maybe sucks here, but there is something of the same disillusion here than that of Arbouretum, with a feeling of taking its place somewhere in past decades. A tired, very nocturnal vibe that could make this a nigh time sister album for Song Of The Pearl. I think of an open window in a suburban summer night, moths flying in and getting drunk on the smoke of dope while I'm listening this.
Arbouretum: Song Of The Pearl
(Thrill Jockey 2009)
Record rating: 7.0/10
Julie Doiron: I Can Wonder What You Did With Your Day
(JagJaguwar 2009)
Record rating: 7.0/10
There seems to be a wave of bands drawing their inspiration from the 70's, taking not only the best, but also the worst aspects of the Rotten Decade and fortifying them. Busy imitating the lost hippies who nurtured their minds with a hazy mixture of psychedelia, progressive and hard rock, the guys from Arbouretum have all these influences and clearly they listened the right records through with a loving ear. This album is maybe the best, most depressing piece of suburban low-rent postpsychedelia since Jade Stone's posthumous Mosaics from 1977. You can imagine a lonely aging deadhead listening to this album at 11 am, already dead stoned from honey slides, mumbling how music these days sucks, especially glam rock and disco, desperately trying to tell himself that Uriah Heep on a good night can be almost as good as Iron Butterfly on a bad night. It's a nice vignette they are pulling, but unfortunately it's also just as depressing as its true predecessors, and listening to more than couple of tracks of this otherwise ok album will make you fear that your life starts running half speed for good.
Another candidate, Julie Doiron, seems to represent the style of indie rock that... um... well... the style of indie rock that originated when a long long time ago Lou Reed convinced Mo Tucker to sing on After Hours. Later Doiron throws in some pretty well snarling guitar, á la P.J. Harvey / The Kills. Especially on Consolation Price and Spill Yer Lungs . So you know the influences and I guess you can imagine what this record sounds. Nothing too special. But well, the melodies are actually nice or even catchy and I have no problem with the idea of putting this on again from the start. The lack of originality maybe sucks here, but there is something of the same disillusion here than that of Arbouretum, with a feeling of taking its place somewhere in past decades. A tired, very nocturnal vibe that could make this a nigh time sister album for Song Of The Pearl. I think of an open window in a suburban summer night, moths flying in and getting drunk on the smoke of dope while I'm listening this.
Arbouretum: Song Of The Pearl
(Thrill Jockey 2009)
Record rating: 7.0/10
Julie Doiron: I Can Wonder What You Did With Your Day
(JagJaguwar 2009)
Record rating: 7.0/10
Cool vintage disco, never worn
Today's electric independent sounds like condensation on the surface of a soda can
I tend to be somewhat skeptic about album format dance music, but this compilation is just so much fun. So totally leaned back that after a few drinks at 5 pm, you are unable to tell when the Chic song coming from the worn out soundsystem of the empty dancefloor ends and someone puts this fine set of nu-disco spinning.
The album frontloads with two superb tracks, 1gnition's Secret Sunday Lover -edit by Greg Wilson and Goblin City by the Panthers as Holy Ghost!'s dub version. Both have killer basslines and the latter keeps jerking exactly like the Leagues' Don't You Want Me, although not sounding like synthpop at all.
Following takes are not too bad either. The rising electro duo from Belgium, Aeroplane remixes Paris by Friendly Fires. Reminds me of Neon Neon in their most easy-going mood. Cool. Hercules & Love Affair have never been my wet dream of choice, but their version of a Chaz Jankel (always soaking wet, yes) track is good fun. It's something very dangerous as a matter of fact. When you loose that, for lack of a better word, sophisticated nu-disco sound for a moment and start sliding towards a nightmare ridden DT with Midnite Vultures by Beck as a soundtrack (a band of lizards playing which may be a gas or may not)... It's not bad, more like a dead-drunk guy pulling a pocket knife on you. It gets some of your adrenaline flowing.
A couple of other tracks as well are about to go from chilled to cheesy. I could do without Love On The Line, Brooklyn Club Jam and especially DJ Koze's remix Minimal which I find horrendous. Luckily the end of the album is saved by Holy Ghost's superior Hold On, which I'd already cite as a piece of classic vintage disco. Another original, Low Motion Disco's Low Murderer... is the most lavish sounding piece of, again, beckish trash retro - this time in a good way, no lizzards in sight since I'm keeping the DT's away with a nice flow of booze. You see, this song might be playing in the very same bar near the beach line where the pinball machine of Motorcycle Theme edit blinks in the corner. We even hear a nice Franz Ferdinand rework, sounding like Happy Mondays doing their Barbados "vacation", which makes me want to order another glass of white rum on the rocks and sell all my clothes for a vial of crank.
VA: Future Disco - A Guide To 21st Century Disco
(Azuli 2009)
Record rating: 8.5/10
I tend to be somewhat skeptic about album format dance music, but this compilation is just so much fun. So totally leaned back that after a few drinks at 5 pm, you are unable to tell when the Chic song coming from the worn out soundsystem of the empty dancefloor ends and someone puts this fine set of nu-disco spinning.
The album frontloads with two superb tracks, 1gnition's Secret Sunday Lover -edit by Greg Wilson and Goblin City by the Panthers as Holy Ghost!'s dub version. Both have killer basslines and the latter keeps jerking exactly like the Leagues' Don't You Want Me, although not sounding like synthpop at all.
Following takes are not too bad either. The rising electro duo from Belgium, Aeroplane remixes Paris by Friendly Fires. Reminds me of Neon Neon in their most easy-going mood. Cool. Hercules & Love Affair have never been my wet dream of choice, but their version of a Chaz Jankel (always soaking wet, yes) track is good fun. It's something very dangerous as a matter of fact. When you loose that, for lack of a better word, sophisticated nu-disco sound for a moment and start sliding towards a nightmare ridden DT with Midnite Vultures by Beck as a soundtrack (a band of lizards playing which may be a gas or may not)... It's not bad, more like a dead-drunk guy pulling a pocket knife on you. It gets some of your adrenaline flowing.
A couple of other tracks as well are about to go from chilled to cheesy. I could do without Love On The Line, Brooklyn Club Jam and especially DJ Koze's remix Minimal which I find horrendous. Luckily the end of the album is saved by Holy Ghost's superior Hold On, which I'd already cite as a piece of classic vintage disco. Another original, Low Motion Disco's Low Murderer... is the most lavish sounding piece of, again, beckish trash retro - this time in a good way, no lizzards in sight since I'm keeping the DT's away with a nice flow of booze. You see, this song might be playing in the very same bar near the beach line where the pinball machine of Motorcycle Theme edit blinks in the corner. We even hear a nice Franz Ferdinand rework, sounding like Happy Mondays doing their Barbados "vacation", which makes me want to order another glass of white rum on the rocks and sell all my clothes for a vial of crank.
VA: Future Disco - A Guide To 21st Century Disco
(Azuli 2009)
Record rating: 8.5/10
Truck driving madness
Glen Campbell is like Southern Comfort served to Casey Jones with gasoline and coke
You know movies like Car or Maximum Overdrive, where some poor guy gets haunted by a psychotic truck driver? Or maybe the vehicle itself has an evil urge. The reason for this berserk behavior is never fully explained in the film, but I guess that in real life the reason would be a massive load of bad country in the car radio.
See, every year somebody gets an idea to put out a greatest hits album by a Legendary Hick Artist called The Essential Legendary Hick Artist (Different Running Order Than Last Year). So the mattress burner in a Texaco cap whose CB handle is something like Big Chief or Bosco keeps listening this monotonous set of old hits in his eighteenwheeler cabin and one fine day he just snaps and it's all road rage and hellfire. By these standards the New Glen Campbell collection is something to set any road warrior ready for an amok ride.
If you're about to purchase a Campbell recording for approximately 15 euros and want to get an impression of a musician more than just a rednecked rhinestone cowboy, I'd still go for the Capitol Years anthology released in 1998. It has all the hits, plus Morning Glory with Bobbie Darin, a take on Universal Soldier, the wicked Every Time I Itch I Wind Up Scratching You, and a couple of other rarities that give you a hint that Campbell was operating on a far more broader range at the time, than the coverage of a typical C&W station's AM tower was. There's some nice traditional tones in the Buffy Saint Marie cover, or Daniels' Folk Singer. And the perfectly lazy countryfunk of Southern Nights - I always use to imagine Lennon doing a version of that one... Campbell is quite a diverse guitarist after all. If you've ever heard his acid washed work on Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In) by Kenny Rogers you'll know what I mean... Perhaps they should include that one on a compilation some day.
Glen Campbell: Greatest Hits
(EMI 2009)
Record rating: 5.5/10
Glen Campbell: The Capitol Years 65/77
(EMI 1998)
Record rating: 9.0/10
You know movies like Car or Maximum Overdrive, where some poor guy gets haunted by a psychotic truck driver? Or maybe the vehicle itself has an evil urge. The reason for this berserk behavior is never fully explained in the film, but I guess that in real life the reason would be a massive load of bad country in the car radio.
See, every year somebody gets an idea to put out a greatest hits album by a Legendary Hick Artist called The Essential Legendary Hick Artist (Different Running Order Than Last Year). So the mattress burner in a Texaco cap whose CB handle is something like Big Chief or Bosco keeps listening this monotonous set of old hits in his eighteenwheeler cabin and one fine day he just snaps and it's all road rage and hellfire. By these standards the New Glen Campbell collection is something to set any road warrior ready for an amok ride.
If you're about to purchase a Campbell recording for approximately 15 euros and want to get an impression of a musician more than just a rednecked rhinestone cowboy, I'd still go for the Capitol Years anthology released in 1998. It has all the hits, plus Morning Glory with Bobbie Darin, a take on Universal Soldier, the wicked Every Time I Itch I Wind Up Scratching You, and a couple of other rarities that give you a hint that Campbell was operating on a far more broader range at the time, than the coverage of a typical C&W station's AM tower was. There's some nice traditional tones in the Buffy Saint Marie cover, or Daniels' Folk Singer. And the perfectly lazy countryfunk of Southern Nights - I always use to imagine Lennon doing a version of that one... Campbell is quite a diverse guitarist after all. If you've ever heard his acid washed work on Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In) by Kenny Rogers you'll know what I mean... Perhaps they should include that one on a compilation some day.
Glen Campbell: Greatest Hits
(EMI 2009)
Record rating: 5.5/10
Glen Campbell: The Capitol Years 65/77
(EMI 1998)
Record rating: 9.0/10
tiistai 3. maaliskuuta 2009
Sounds like Stephen King's Blues
Back in 1974
Guess what? I wanna show you something. It's an old open-cut mine pit filled with soiled rain water. About 6 feet deep and probably infested with Naegleria fowleri and a bunch of other nasty things as well. And it's the coolest place in the world! Of course we have to ride our bikes there for a good eight miles in the late July heat (with our t-shirts tucked in our shorts for hiding the dirty magazines). But hey, it's the best place to swim and dive and cough out our chasty lungs in privacy smoking those Kools you pinched from your mother's desk drawer.
So thinking of now, that was the best summer you ever lived. Those endless days at the lake in the open-cut pit. The other ass-kick thing was an LP that your brother gave you when he moved out. The album you played through five times in an afternoon in your room, where the smell of pubescent sweat and semen was thickening the hot air.
Those are the defining memories of that summer. Next summer it was all forgotten. You were interested in nothing but scrobbling Laura's snatch. Even sold your records to buy a car! That AMC Gremlin, which broke down to pieces after 35 000 miles, so underpowered, you had to shift down with the AC on to climb the slightest hill. Man, was that the shittiest car ever produced.
Death: ...For The Whole World To See (1974)
(Drag City 2009)
Record rating: 8.5/10
Guess what? I wanna show you something. It's an old open-cut mine pit filled with soiled rain water. About 6 feet deep and probably infested with Naegleria fowleri and a bunch of other nasty things as well. And it's the coolest place in the world! Of course we have to ride our bikes there for a good eight miles in the late July heat (with our t-shirts tucked in our shorts for hiding the dirty magazines). But hey, it's the best place to swim and dive and cough out our chasty lungs in privacy smoking those Kools you pinched from your mother's desk drawer.
So thinking of now, that was the best summer you ever lived. Those endless days at the lake in the open-cut pit. The other ass-kick thing was an LP that your brother gave you when he moved out. The album you played through five times in an afternoon in your room, where the smell of pubescent sweat and semen was thickening the hot air.
Those are the defining memories of that summer. Next summer it was all forgotten. You were interested in nothing but scrobbling Laura's snatch. Even sold your records to buy a car! That AMC Gremlin, which broke down to pieces after 35 000 miles, so underpowered, you had to shift down with the AC on to climb the slightest hill. Man, was that the shittiest car ever produced.
Death: ...For The Whole World To See (1974)
(Drag City 2009)
Record rating: 8.5/10
Knee deep in twee
or the pains of not being a douchebag
So maybe it's just irony, but for god's sake they have the worst name in, say, the last 13 years of pop music. And see how cute they look. Aww, I should be hating this. But there is some strangely sincere feeling in these songs. Something tells me that unlike 98% of indie population, these kids are not in the business only for getting laid.
Call it a hunch... maybe I'm wrong. But the very first track definitely sounds like The Shop Assistants and beside all the jangling guitars they have some screeching guitars as well in the next one, which is nice. Now, I'm trying to think like the average "I'm digging this crap because it's trendy not to be trendy" douchebag, who wants to get laid. I might hit a club, do my jangling and screeching shit, put my jangling and screeching shit back into my jangling & screeching case which has a Tiger Trap sticker on top of it - maybe get laid. Or, I could cite Arcade Fire lyrics to the first person in the bathroom cue. Why not use a guaranteed aphrodisiac instead of digging up (the truly awesome) stuff like The Shop Assistants? Well, they did it and they don't give damn if they get laid or not. That's why this group melted my heart... sort of.
The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart: S/T
(Slumberland 2009)
Record Rating: 7.5/10
So maybe it's just irony, but for god's sake they have the worst name in, say, the last 13 years of pop music. And see how cute they look. Aww, I should be hating this. But there is some strangely sincere feeling in these songs. Something tells me that unlike 98% of indie population, these kids are not in the business only for getting laid.
Call it a hunch... maybe I'm wrong. But the very first track definitely sounds like The Shop Assistants and beside all the jangling guitars they have some screeching guitars as well in the next one, which is nice. Now, I'm trying to think like the average "I'm digging this crap because it's trendy not to be trendy" douchebag, who wants to get laid. I might hit a club, do my jangling and screeching shit, put my jangling and screeching shit back into my jangling & screeching case which has a Tiger Trap sticker on top of it - maybe get laid. Or, I could cite Arcade Fire lyrics to the first person in the bathroom cue. Why not use a guaranteed aphrodisiac instead of digging up (the truly awesome) stuff like The Shop Assistants? Well, they did it and they don't give damn if they get laid or not. That's why this group melted my heart... sort of.
The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart: S/T
(Slumberland 2009)
Record Rating: 7.5/10
Shine on Motherfucker
Wavves calls a new generation of West Coast surfer emo defeatists to unite
Why is it that the record industry thinks a bunch of Californian fakesters is what we are craving for, year after year? Beach bums without a tan, slackers who never have enough slack since they are busy recording lo-fi tapes in their daddy's garage (see, no tan).
The latest craze is Wawves. According to an established magazine the Wawwes case is pretty sad; he used to work in a record store but couldn't handle the jocks bullying him. So now he's moved back to his parents, and being bullied by his younger brother's friends who stole Wave's precious drum kit. So he started making music about how sob sob lonely he is because at the record store he was at least able to discuss about some old skool hip hop records with the nerdy customers.
Now aren't we glad that Wawes got a record deal and was able to cut a critically acclaimed album to heal his pressure cooker of an ego? Wrong. Because of this we have to keep listening, if not the record, but the Pitchfork kids namedropping the guy - for maybe even four months or so. Crap.
Why is he doing this? Writing your own hip hop blog and getting virtual credit doesn't make you a better person. Getting a gazillion last.fm plays from other surfer emo kids doesn't make you a better person. "Finding your place" among a shitty subculture is the same thing as hiding in the dark of your daddy's garage for the rest of your life. All because you couldn't handle with a couple of asshole jocks? Stop gathering a worthless congregation of summer goths whose only revolution is to dwell in their own misery. Your grandpa who died in Korea would despise everything you are. Down with being a pussy - walk back to that Sam Goody's shithole and kick some ass. Rise and shine!
By the way; the record itself is not that bad at all. Then again, one more thing that makes me feel uncanny is the guy's pseudonym. Anyone even slightly illiterate would typo it all the time. You don't sell records with a name like Wavvves. It sounds like a 15 year old hipster trying to lolspeak during a Jell-O Shots and Vicodin induced toilet hug. I get disgusted.
Wavves: S/T
(Woodsist 2008)
Record rating: 7.0/10
Why is it that the record industry thinks a bunch of Californian fakesters is what we are craving for, year after year? Beach bums without a tan, slackers who never have enough slack since they are busy recording lo-fi tapes in their daddy's garage (see, no tan).
The latest craze is Wawves. According to an established magazine the Wawwes case is pretty sad; he used to work in a record store but couldn't handle the jocks bullying him. So now he's moved back to his parents, and being bullied by his younger brother's friends who stole Wave's precious drum kit. So he started making music about how sob sob lonely he is because at the record store he was at least able to discuss about some old skool hip hop records with the nerdy customers.
Now aren't we glad that Wawes got a record deal and was able to cut a critically acclaimed album to heal his pressure cooker of an ego? Wrong. Because of this we have to keep listening, if not the record, but the Pitchfork kids namedropping the guy - for maybe even four months or so. Crap.
Why is he doing this? Writing your own hip hop blog and getting virtual credit doesn't make you a better person. Getting a gazillion last.fm plays from other surfer emo kids doesn't make you a better person. "Finding your place" among a shitty subculture is the same thing as hiding in the dark of your daddy's garage for the rest of your life. All because you couldn't handle with a couple of asshole jocks? Stop gathering a worthless congregation of summer goths whose only revolution is to dwell in their own misery. Your grandpa who died in Korea would despise everything you are. Down with being a pussy - walk back to that Sam Goody's shithole and kick some ass. Rise and shine!
By the way; the record itself is not that bad at all. Then again, one more thing that makes me feel uncanny is the guy's pseudonym. Anyone even slightly illiterate would typo it all the time. You don't sell records with a name like Wavvves. It sounds like a 15 year old hipster trying to lolspeak during a Jell-O Shots and Vicodin induced toilet hug. I get disgusted.
Wavves: S/T
(Woodsist 2008)
Record rating: 7.0/10
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