The Portraits – Timescape – Sensory Pulse Records – September 29 2008
On the cover of Timescape, a tiny redheaded toddler stands on a giant sundial as a vast landscape stretches behind her. This marriage of time and nature is the defining theme of Anglo-Irish folk group The Portraits’ second and latest record, a blissfully varied collection of songs brimming with subtle emotions and an array of eclectic instruments.
The best thing about Timescape is that it doesn’t evoke an immediate reaction. My first listen was a nonchalantly unimpressed wade through the 40 minutes that make up the record, and it made very little impact – but on each listen since I’ve been able to uncover something subtle that I love in each pithy little song. Perhaps saying so isn’t really professional in the sense that album reviews are supposed to be – after all, aren’t we supposed to remain somewhat objective?
But this is exactly the point of Timescape. It allows us to throw away our inhibitions and freefall into an unexplored world, forging a very real personal connection with Jeremy and Lorraine Millington, the brains behind The Portraits who also have a deeply personal connection themselves, as creative collaborators for more than a decade and, more recently, husband and wife.
The intro and verse of the opening track ‘Poppy Song’ are not particularly striking, but the delicate warmth of The Portraits comes flooding in as soon as the bright chorus hits. Lorraine’s breezy vocals, reminiscent of early Andrea Corr, are beautifully underscored with the simple accompaniment as she paints an evergreen picture: “tell me eternal green / under your endless sky / how you are so serene / knowing all the truth you hide?”
This melding point of nature and time is explored further in the nine tracks following, awash in both cynicism and hope. From the facelessness of celebrity in the darker flavour of ‘Fame’ to the finiteness of life explored through earthen metaphor in ‘Precious Red’, Jeremy and Lorraine offer a fresh outlook on both the bright and dark sides of life using mental scenery created both through words and music.
The employment of instruments such as cellos, ethnic flutes and trumpets, as well as the usual piano and guitar, makes Timescape an experience that really fits its name. It seems to borrow from world music, with African-inspired bongos providing the beat for many of the songs. In both a musical and lyrical sense, Timescape shows intelligence and diversity – focusing on all aspects of life to which anyone can relate, it also focuses on different facets of musical composition and innovation.
‘Real World’ illustrates this perfectly – beginning with a harmonised refrain, it proceeds to lurch into an upbeat ditty about the transition from childhood into adulthood whilst a jangling percussion ensemble rattles cheerily over an effervescent harmony. Though the subject matter is far from cheery, The Portraits make it gorgeously listenable – and make me think that maybe “progressing into the real world” won’t be so bad.
There are some questionable decisions sometimes, such as the very mechanical-sounding drum fade at the start of ‘Poppy Song’ which detracts from the lithe feeling of the rest of the song, and the production of the songs could do with more polishing as it feels a little rough around the edges at times. But sometimes it’s this rawness that makes it feel the most personal, like an honest poem scribbled hastily on a piece of paper.
If this record doesn’t strike you straight away, don’t give up hope – I’m not saying that it’s perfect, but it is overflowing with so much promise and passion. Put it on your iPod and take a walk down to a lake or river on a warm day, and sit there soaking in the world around you and the radiance of this music. I promise you it will be worth the effort.
TRACK LISTING:
01. Poppy Song
02. Fame
03. Autumn
04. Bitter
05. Precious Red
06. Real World
07. See Through You
08. Shield
09. Virtual
10. Windfall
DOWNLOAD: Poppy Song (m4a)
McKisko – Glorio – El Nino El Nino/Inertia – March 21 2009
Brisbane singer-songwriter Helen Franzmann has one of those delicate girly voices that makes you feel like you’re sitting in a dark room by yourself with a ghostly presence lingering nearby. That voice is the focal point of her debut album Glorio where, under the name McKisko, she shares her haunting visions.
An unexamined listen to the album’s nine songs would suggest that McKisko is simply another singer-songwriter project that sails along calmly in the general folk vein, but a closer inspection reveals that the simplicity of these tracks is actually quite deceptive.
Whilst most of the tracks fall into a familiar guitar/piano/voice structural ground, it still manages to avoid triteness – ‘Thankful Tangle’ is a gorgeously straightforward song with a simple acoustic accompaniment, and the beautiful ‘Marcel’ is a stripped-back moment of introspection, with a distant trumpet and acoustic guitar providing companionship to Franzmann’s utterances to a clandestine lover. Often it’s this modesty in composition that allows the sombre lyrics to really take effect, whether they be dark moments of morbidity or innermost secrets spilled into song.
The more unconventional tracks employ a wide range of instruments – opener ‘How We Are’ begins with an uncomplicated electric ostinato accompanying Franzmann’s musings on escapism, but culminates in an atmospheric mixture of glockenspiel, cello, bowed guitar and spooky background vocals and buzzes that swirl steadily on as Franzmann’s dreamy voice fades. Similarly, an eclectic mix of tin drum, hand claps, brass, strings and melodica can be found on ‘A Difficult Crossing’, the album’s most upbeat and experimental moment.
At just over half an hour, Glorio is not an exaggerated album but rather one that presents its ideas with vulnerable precision. As a debut it is a markedly fine effort with some confident forays into previously unexplored territory, and serves as a fitting introduction to an up-and-coming talent.
TRACK LISTING:
01. How We Are
02. The Hollow Boat
03. Jackson Curse
04. A Difficult Crossing
05. Undertow
06. Marcel
07. Silence Slowly
08. Thankful Tangle
09. Into the Night
DOWNLOAD: Thankful Tangle (mp3)
Chris Isaak – Mr. Lucky – Wicked Game/Reprise – February 24 2009
Channel [V] and Max Music recently welcomed me on board as a reviewer for their websites, and have just sent me my first record to critique. Upon opening the package and being met by a copy of Chris Isaak’s Mr. Lucky, I winced – but then realised great lol-potential in it. So secretly, I was hoping this album would be all kinds of terrible, because I wanted to be amazingly hilarious and witty and start this review with the line “Baby did a bad, bad thing by making this record”.
But unfortunately for me – and fortunately for self-proclaimed lucky crooner Mr. Isaak – it’s actually not that bad.
The man behind pre-00’s hits ‘Wicked Game’ and ‘Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing’ (which I haaaaated as an eleven-year-old) is back with his first album of original material in seven years. Mr. Lucky offers 14 songs spanning genres from blues to country to rock to just plain good old pop, all of which are accented with his sweepingly grandiose voice and its dynamic range.
The album opens with a rattling twang before Isaak launches into the controlled rollick of ‘Cheater’s Town’, followed by the more introspective and heart-wrenching sob story that is ‘We Let Her Down’. Isaak’s voice is a great conveyer of emotion, ranging from a quiet croon to a heavily passionate sonority. He also uses his manly charm to woo not one, but two popular chanteuses on this record – Trisha Yearwood joins the party on the mushy I-miss-you ballad ‘Breaking Apart’, whilst Michelle Branch lends her breezy vocals to ‘I Lose My Heart’.
Isaak doesn’t limit himself to the downbeat sappy ballads, though, showcasing a number of genres on the album. ‘We’ve Got Tomorrow’ adopts a simple country feel coupled with jangling guitars and a steady percussion thud, with some feel-good brass kicking in halfway through, whilst ‘Very Pretty Girl’ oozes some serious skeeze with Isaak’s now seductive voice beckoning in any ladies who might be listening. The fantastic ‘Take My Heart’ is a Nat King Cole flavoured retrospective that calls to mind silent movies and top hats, and Vegas comes to you with the album’s swing finale ‘Big Wide Wonderful World’ – jazzy saxes, slow finger-clicking vocals and all.
But the main critical point that really emanates from this record is that, overall, I’m not convinced that it will help Isaak win over a new generation of fans. Though the production is crystal clear, there is something about his lyrical and musical composition that can be incredibly (and seemingly unironically) ‘80s, more often than not verging on cringe-worthy.
Take, for example, ‘You Don’t Cry Like I Do’ – if the song title itself wasn’t enough, consider these lyrics: “You don’t cry, cause you don’t need me now, you don’t want me / You don’t want me, you don’t love me / That’s what kills me”. Team that up with a delicate tinkering piano and soaring guitars, as well as layered male vocals culminating in a syrupy plead of a bridge, and you have yourself some grade-A cheese. Obviously any ballad will have at least a slight element of corniness, but Isaak really outdoes himself in this capacity, resulting in an album containing many moments that really should have been left in the ‘80s.
So I was right and wrong in my initial preconceptions of this record – whilst Chris Isaak didn’t do a great thing, it wasn’t a bad, bad one either. For long-time fans, Mr. Lucky contains the genre-hopping that you’d expect, with some really wonderful moments, but for newcomers or naysayers, it may not be enough to sway you. Perhaps if Isaak dropped the cheese he’d be able to achieve some songwriting worthy of sharply focused attention – the upbeat and creative songs on this record show that the potential’s certainly not lacking.
TRACK LISTING:
01. Cheater’s Town
02. We Let Her Down
03. You Don’t Cry Like I Do
04. We’ve Got Tomorrow
05. Breaking Apart (with Trisha Yearwood)
06. Baby Baby
07. Mr. Lonely Man
08. I Lose My Heart (with Michelle Branch)
09. Summer Holiday
10. Best I Ever Had
11. We Lost Our Way
12. Very Pretty Girl
13. Take My Heart
14. Big Wide Wonderful World
DOWNLOAD: Take My Heart (m4a)
The Smoke – Blood Orange – MGM/Green – March 14 2009
If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like if The White Stripes were Australian, wonder no more – Melbourne five-piece The Smoke are pretty much exactly the same band.
Their debut album Blood Orange adopts a DIY garage-punk ethos and delivers thirteen songs that are solid, sure, but lack any real originality. Everything from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs-esque cover art, to singer Dane Robertson’s Jack White-tastic drawl coupled with a simple three-chord progression in the aptly-titled opener ‘Good Morning Jack’, suggests that The Smoke are a band that have absorbed their influences to an extent where they become them – to both their benefit and detriment.
There are a couple of great moments on this record – first single ‘Defeat Retreat’ features an Aussie accented gang vocal heavy chorus perfectly suited to the mainstream airwaves, while ‘Baby’s Got The Shakes’ and ‘Cut the Brakes’ both adopt a Springsteen flavour of infectious country rock, complete with rollicking guitars and handclapping choruses. The poignant ‘Night Flight’ is the album’s only taste of semi-acoustic introspection, with both strummed and fingerpicked electric guitars gently underscoring Robertson’s subdued vocals.
The problem with these songs, though, is not that they’re not well composed or well executed, but rather that they don’t offer anything new. Obviously the formula works, as it has worked for countless bands before, but that’s precisely the issue – it makes them blend in.
Before the album’s minute-long instrumental close, Robertson muses, “I’m just a boy chasing a dream of fascination, lust, love and everything in between”.
That dream should continue to be chased, but with a stronger unique vision – Blood Orange will please fans of the genre, but may leave those hoping for some home grown innovation thirsting for something more.
DOWNLOAD: Defeat Retreat (m4a)
Metric – Fantasies – Inertia Music – April 7 2009
On their first record in four years, Metric adds a sparkling pop gleam to their riot-grrl-lite brand of indie rock – Fantasies features sounds more Paramore than Le Tigre, but the Canadian band’s edgy attitude remains steadfast on an album that will please the tweens without isolating older fans.
Metric’s continuing association with indie super-collective Broken Social Scene, as well as singer Emily Haines’ solo efforts with the Soft Skeleton in recent years, has given the band a wider array of styles to play with. Haines’ solo work overflowed with delicate piano lulls, whilst BSS are known for their eclectic take on baroque rock – and Fantasies adopts these and more.
Album opener ‘Help I’m Alive’ races in from a jumbled drum track to be met by a repeated Stars-esque synth progression, and Haines sounds as silky as ever gliding over a dark lyrical sea deceptively washed in shiny guitars. Like fellow girl-power indie group Rilo Kiley, Metric’s beats are infectiously danceable but their lyrics are laced with acerbic wit – the excellent ‘Gimme Sympathy’ sees Haines and co blitz through a distorted pop progression culminating in the ultimate question: “Who’d you rather be/the Beatles or the Rolling Stones?”
But whilst catchy pop-rock is rampant, Metric also slows it down for a few sensitive moments. 2005’s Live It Out contained a downbeat winner in ‘Too Little Too Late’; Fantasies has a handful of songs that continue in the same fashion. The sheer flexibility of Haines’ voice is evident in her seamless transition from bouncy choruses to quiet pensiveness – ‘Twilight Galaxy’ features a shy synth buzz, whilst ‘Collect Call’ marries her sweetly reverberating vocals with a simple finger-picked electric guitar pattern.
In typical Metric fashion, though, there’s got to be a slap in the face somewhere – and they leave it until the very end. ‘Stadium Love’, the album’s closer, explosively combines the crunchy pop perfection that’s built up over the record with an almost angry chorus and raw-sounding guitar and drums, gluing together what Metric has been, and what Metric has become.
Though there’s nothing particularly groundbreaking about the composition of these ten songs, the reason the album works so well is because it’s not afraid of being a pop record. The airtight production quality allows Metric to reach out to a wider audience, but everything about them you know and love still simmers beneath the surface – and that’s what makes Fantasies their most accessible, and fun, album to date.
TRACK LISTING:
01. Help I’m Alive
02. Sick Muse
03. Satellite Mind
04. “Twilight Galaxy
05. Gold Guns Girls
06. Gimme Sympathy
07. Collect Call
08. Front Row
09. Blindness
10. Stadium Love
DOWNLOAD: Gimme Sympathy (m4a)
Marissa Nadler – Little Hells – Kemado Records 2009
A muted keyboard ostinato rises and falls dutifully, and a sound resembling a falling bomb swoops with subtle menace beside it. They dance together in perfect macabre sync, and then suddenly fall and land in a pool of whispers as a girl wanders into the scene, breathily spilling out the words: “You were gone, and I was gone, and all of the flowers were dead and gone”.
Not exactly the most uplifting start to a record, but Marissa Nadler isn’t known for being cheery. The folk chanteuse’s fourth album, the aptly titled Little Hells, is every bit as paradoxical as her previous works – whilst dripping with morbidity, it also is achingly beautiful.
Like fellow folk songstress Joanna Newsom, Nadler has a dreamily addictive voice that sucks the soul into her world of delicate moroseness. Whether she is singing with childlike fear and wonder to her mother (‘Little Hells’), pondering the connection between the past and the heart (‘Ghosts and Lovers’) or begging to be returned to the ground from which she was birthed (the sublime ‘River of Dirt’), Nadler remains gorgeously eloquent both musically and lyrically in her typical soft gothic-folk style.
The last minute of ‘Rosary’ features a repeated three-note sigh, the wordlessness of which allows Nadler’s voice to be appreciated as an instrument itself, rather than just a vessel for words. It’s a little like going back to 1991 and watching Edward Scissorhands carve angels from ice – the melody sweeps effortlessly over a vast expanse of cold and, even though you can hear frost forming on everything it touches, it somehow warms you too.
Nadler does not push many boundaries with this record, with a majority of the tracks falling into her defined slow gothic folk. The few points in the album where Nadler does experiment briefly don’t always work – in ‘The Hole Is Wide’, she ditches the folky guitars for a blunt four-chord piano progression that never develops and, after a few minutes, feels completely banal. (Also, Cat Power called. She wants ‘I Don’t Blame You’ back).
But there are experimental triumphs, too. In ‘Mary Come Alive’, an eerily rousing tune describing a man’s desire for his dead lover’s resurrection, the subject matter’s creepiness is intensified with the steady drum beat accompanying a carnival-esque electric guitar riff which rolls repeatedly for the last 80 seconds of the track after Nadler’s voice has dispersed – it’s spine-tingling to imagine the bride’s ghost drifting over the fairgrounds in a restless eternity. It’s spookier, more passionate, more forceful than anything else she’s ever done and, listening to it, it’s easy to forget that she’s a folk musician.
Though it would certainly be interesting to hear Nadler break even further out of her definitive niche and create more songs like ‘Mary’, it would also seem a dreadful waste for her to abandon something that she’s so comfortably settled into. There is simply no other musician out there currently who mixes beauty and depression as gorgeously as Marissa Nadler does – even though this album is very much centred around only a handful of ideas, it just works.
Little Hells soundtracks our greatest fears, aches and, strangely, hopes. It is an album that sees the world falling apart and, whilst doing nothing to stop the inevitable, makes our own little hells seem a little more bearable.
TRACK LISTING:
01. Heart Paper Lover
02. Rosary
03. Mary Come Alive
04. Little Hells
05. Ghosts and Lovers
06. Brittle, Crushed & Torn
07. The Hole is Wide
08. River of Dirt
09. Loner
10. Mistress
DOWNLOAD: Mary Come Alive (m4a)
Chris Eminizer – Twice the Animal – Released through Mind Of His Own Music, 2008
Chris Eminizer may not be a household name, but the New York multi-instrumentalist is certainly no stranger to music. Having played and recorded with the likes of Paul Simon and Janet Jackson, as well as writing music for television (including Oprah), Eminizer’s musical approach is wide and varied – but sometimes so varied that it teeters on the brink of inconsistency.
His latest record, Twice the Animal, is an ambitious foray into a spectrum of musical colour, from humble acoustic songs to raucous jazz numbers. There’s a bit of Bob Dylan in the country drawl of ‘Crack Shot’, and most of the laid-back acoustic pieces have a John Mayer-type feel, with ‘Shark Cage’ in particular offering a nautical sense of private introspection with Eminizer’s honey-like voice spilling over from a shy verse into a gorgeously catchy chorus.
Eminizer has a particularly charming way with words, with the lyrical content providing an insight into the complex person that he is. On the opening track, ‘Form A Single Line’ his voice is filled with childlike wonder as he sighs bashfully, “I wake up from a daydream as the kettle starts to sing / my mind fills up with everything”; there is no such innocence to be found in the meaning behind tracks such as ‘Float Away’, though, showcasing a darker, more cynical view of life. The album’s lyrical diversity is one of its best features – Eminizer is a poet as much as he is a musician, sharing his innermost thoughts with the ears of strangers who, in turn, begin to feel like friends through the intensely personal nature of his carefully enunciated words.
Musically, the more downbeat acoustic and pop-rock tracks on the album have a couple of memorable moments, with the clever nursery rhyme-esque ‘Move Along Now’ featuring a perfectly sing-along-able chorus and a bevy of different emotions running rampant on ‘Beautiful Catastrophe’. The softer and poppier songs also feature brief sax appearances, but by no means as heavily as the album’s two most creative tracks, ‘Borrowed Name’ and ‘Something Happened Here’.
Being that his specialisation is the saxophone, the strongest moments on the record are those in which Eminizer probably feels most at home. ‘Borrowed Name’, featuring an infectious piano riff accompanied by a chunky upright bass, allows his feel for funk to really shine through. The effortlessly smooth chorus deliciously counters the groove of the verse, with Eminizer’s voice gliding above a saxophone swirl. In a similar sense to well-known jamsters Dave Matthews Band, the more upbeat tracks on this record have a tight sense of musical cohesion – the extended jams and musical solos are really something to marvel at, displaying a strong and admirable understanding of rhythm and harmony.
With all that said, though, the huge volume of acoustically orientated singer-songwriters flooding the music circuit in recent times means that it’s hard to write an acoustic track that really leaps out. Whilst Eminizer’s softer tracks aren’t by any means bad, they don’t include enough musical innovation to be particularly significant or hard-hitting, either, outside of being pleasantly easy to listen to.
Eminizer’s concise talent with jazz and improvisation, on the other hand, is much more likely to get people to sit up and really take notice. With only two of the twelve tracks really dominated by the funk groove, though, it feels like Twice the Animal is half the album it might have been.
A more focused approach on jazz would hugely improve Eminizer’s next record, whenever that may occur. Twice the Animal is a sound, but somewhat incomplete, introduction to the ambitions and passions of a great talent whose energies are most commendable when channelled into his area of most expertise.
Listen to my two favourite tracks, ‘Shark Cage’ and ‘Borrowed Name’, here – or check out Chris’ MySpace profile to stream more songs from the album.
Morrissey – Years of Refusal – Released through Decca Records, February 16 2009
Morrissey isn’t well known for good cover art – not since the days of the Smiths, anyway. On the cover of his newest record, Years of Refusal, he stands, dressed in a tight blue shirt, baby dangling from his arm. A step up from the cover of the last album, on which he channelled Andre Rieu with his signature quiff and violin cradling – and also an indication of the veteran’s return to more youthful, punchy rock tunes after a decidedly schmaltzy past few years.
Roaring in with the energetic ‘Something Is Squeezing My Soul’, Years of Refusal quakes with ferocious rock energy, paired with Moz’s signature pop sensibilities. Synthesisers and trumpets make their way into the accompaniment of some tracks, providing a breath of fresh air from the continuous hammering of furious guitar.
The real grabber about this album, though, is that whilst it remains very Steven Patrick, it also borrows from and blends with more contemporary bands – Morrissey’s dry sarcasm and crunchy riffs wouldn’t sound out of place on a Fall Out Boy record, and the bass-heavy intro to first single ‘All You Need Is Me’ could have come straight from Art of Drowning-era AFI. This doesn’t necessarily mean that he has compromised his originality – all the basic elements of a Morrissey album are here, but it’s packaged and delivered in a way that is more 2009, meaning that newcomers to the world of Moz won’t be isolated.
Whilst second single ‘I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris’ begins with a very Johnny Marr riff (and subsequently makes me very nostalgic), the marriage of old and new shines through most brightly on standout track ‘It’s Not Your Birthday Anymore’. (It would seem that Morrissey really doesn’t like joyous celebrations of aging, having already wished an ‘Unhappy Birthday’ in 1987). All moments of lyrical weakness from earlier tracks are forgotten as his voice steadily rises to a heady strength, cynically mocking the ingenuine pretension surrounding birthday greetings over a Stars-like ostinato, pedalling its way to a subtle climax. It’s reflective moments such as these which allow you to really get inside Morrissey’s head – understated but opinionated, soft but forceful.
There are also a few weak moments, though – in the otherwise memorable ‘Black Cloud’, Morrissey takes a leaf out of Chris Carrabba’s book as he sings “the one I love is standing near/the one I love is everywhere”. Good to see his angst-ridden diaries from his days as a 13-year-old boy came in handy. Structurally, some of the tracks are maddeningly simple and run the risk of falling into a banal formula – but the catch is that sometimes it’s this simplicity that makes the most impact, creating catchy melodies that are easily committed to memory.
With rumours of Moz’s career possibly coming to an end, the ending of the album is bittersweet. ‘You Were Good In Your Time’ is a quiet moment of introspection, as Morrissey croons “please understand/I must surrender” over a smooth Spanish-like swirl. It’s almost like he’s meditating upon what the past 25 years have been for him; the meditation culminates in a 90 second mash of noise at the end of the track, where you can picture the instruments all coming to a disorderly head. He begs to “live and let live” in the penultimate track before bowing out fiercely with the rambunctious closer ‘I’m Okay By Myself’, finishing the album on a cliffhanger – what happens next in this prolific career?
The answer lies in the hopeful records to come. Years of Refusal is by no means Morrissey’s strongest work, and there’s no ‘Suedehead’ here – but it is a fine return to form for one of rock’s best-loved veterans, with humble moments countering explosively egoistic ones. It’s proof that you can teach an old dog new tricks, and is a worthy introduction to the world of Morrissey, and the Smiths, for a new generation.
PS. If you buy the single for ‘I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris’, you get to see as much of Mozzer’s naked body as will ever be possible. Worth it.
Bon Iver – Blood Bank – Released through Jagjaguwar, January 20 2009
After an incredibly successful 2008 for Bon Iver, riding on the highs of their critically acclaimed major debut For Emma, Forever Ago, it would be an understatement to say that all eyes were sharply focused on them, awaiting their next move.
And in the early weeks of 2009 the Wisconsin folk outfit, lead by the charismatic Justin Vernon, came back for round two with the four-song EP Blood Bank.
The title track introduces the collection with a soft strum and Vernon’s whispered murmur, before delving into a tale about a man who meets a love interest at the blood bank. The lo-fi sparseness of the first record has been abandoned this time around for a fuzzier electric glow, but Vernon’s layered falsetto is still present, wrapping itself around the poetics and comfortably steady mix of quiet guitar and subtle drumming. Listening to ‘Blood Bank’ is akin to being stuck in the snow that it describes – you can almost feel the frost nipping at your cheeks whilst you rub your gloved hands together, desperate to stay warm. Vernon did not so explicitly tell stories on For Emma, and he proves here that he is proficient not just as a musician, but also as a gorgeously concise raconteur.
Second track ‘Beach Baby’ sees no departure from the lonely acoustic stylings of the first record, but the last two tracks see experimentation begin to take place. ‘Babys’ marks the first use of keyboards as Vernon murmurs “summer comes to multiply” over and over again, before abruptly cutting out to give way to the Imogen Heap-like ‘Woods’. This is a strange direction for Vernon to take, especially since his success has relied heavily on the uniqueness of his affecting falsetto – his layered voices hit auto-tune in this one, with very little other accompaniment. It’s decidedly un-Bon Iver and whether or not it works is entirely open to debate – but what is certain is that it closes the EP on a cliffhanger. What comes next?
Perhaps it’s got something to do with the length, but Blood Bank just isn’t as satisfying as For Emma was. Besides the improvement in recording quality (which may turn out to be a curse rather than a blessing, considering the rawness of For Emma was what made it so honest), Vernon has not explored a great deal outside of the songwriting style that saw him skyrocket to fame. But the eyebrow-raising experimentation of the last two tracks is certainly indicative of a newer approach in times to come, so his next full-length may have some surprises stored for us.
Josh Pyke – Chimney’s Afire – Released through Ivy League Records, October 4 2008
With spring having arrived and summer just around the corner, it’s lucky that Josh Pyke’s Chimney’s Afire is hitting shelves now. Laced with rollicking guitars and his signature blokey harmonies, the Sydney boy’s second offering could well be the soundtrack to warm days driving with the windows down.
The record focuses on Pyke’s love for the ocean and maritime history – the title itself is the cry ancient whalers used to signify the harpooning of a whale. He’s not the first to touch on the nautical theme, but in typical Josh Pyke fashion, it’s still endearing to hear him think aloud about lighthouses, whales and summers long past.
Gentle but confident in its scope, first single ‘The Lighthouse Song’ shows off Pyke’s sensitive side. A placid sea of strings and soothing guitar swirls under Pyke’s quiet musing about relocating to a lighthouse with his loved one – so it’s surprising, to say the least, to hear the word ‘fuck’ uttered, so nonchalantly, in the chorus. It’s cheek like this that has seen Pyke rise to become one of Australia’s most loved contemporary players.
The album has timid moments, raucous moments, reflective moments. It’s much more downbeat than its predecessor, with a stronger focus on acoustic music, but Pyke does explore previously unchartered territory. ‘Our House Breathing’ borrows from the Sufjan Stevens school of instrumentation, tampering with different timbres of guitar and resulting in a folky kind of lullaby. ‘The Summer’ is not a typical summer song, focusing rather on the darker side of the season; ‘Make You Happy’ is just a damn good pop song, so uplifting you can hear the grin on his face.
There’s certainly a case of second album syndrome here, however – Chimney’s Afire lacks the raw honesty, the surprise of hearing a new voice for the first time, that defined Memories and Dust. While Pyke has undoubtedly built on his songwriting skills, this record lacks the natural poetry that the former was brimming with and feels, at times, laboured and trite.
Chimney’s Afire is a decent record in its own right, though, standing as testament to the talents of the boy next door. Though it’s a step down from the last record, it has some spectacular moments – and when you couple that with its beachy theme, it’s an ideal companion to days out in the sun.
