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.
I recently discovered WordPress’ handy little “Search Engine Terms” feature. “Awesome,” I thought, “I can now see what people search to get to my blog and figure out how far up in the Google ranks it is for them to have come across it.”
That is, until I had a peek at my stats for the past few days earlier this afternoon and discovered that these terms were pretty high up the list of most popular searches:
“Pictures of pretty 13 year olds”
“Pretty girls at the age of 18”
“Attractive 13 year old girls”
WOAH.
Firstly, I’ve got no idea how those search terms would produce a link to a blog about music and arts, but hey, everyone makes mistakes – Google included. So let’s take this as an opportunity for me to announce that in no way do I support child porn of any way, shape or form, nor do I partake in any variation of it.
But to satisfy the pervs who found me through those delicate search terms, I present you with a photo of me, Giselle Nguyen, circa 2001:
Man, those 13 year olds sure are tasty. Those Harry Potter glasses and neck rolls really get my juices flowing. Now to watch my daily visits skyrocket.
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So it may be sooner than I thought.
*implosion*
That is all.
Josh Pyke is a likeable guy, there’s no doubt about it. The bearded bloke from Sydney has a solid and extremely dedicated fan base and a couple of ARIA awards under his belt, but he doesn’t let that inflate his ego on stage. Quite the opposite, really – going to a Josh Pyke show always feels like going down to the pub and having some beers and a yarn with old mates.
So it was with great enthusiasm that Sydney welcomed Josh back to the Metro Theatre these past two nights for the conclusion of his sold-out national tour supporting his latest release, 2008’s Chimney’s Afire. It was very evident that the audience couldn’t wait to be reunited with their favourite folk popster as they raucously applaused both support acts, 17-year-old singer-songwriter Jackson McLaren and playful Blue Mountains rockers Cloud Control. It’s truly heartwarming to see an audience warm so quickly to new musical faces, particularly young Jackson – that kind of encouragement is really what inspires budding musicians to push themselves to greater heights, and after witnessing exceedingly obnoxious reactions to support acts at recent events around Sydney, tonight’s enthusiasm revived my dying faith in punters.
But the biggest cheers were saved for Mr Pyke, with deafening applause meeting his arrival on stage. Kicking off with new album opener ‘Chimney’s Afire’, the next 90 minutes went by in a blur as the crowd sang delightedly along to Josh’s every word. Playing songs from both his full-length albums, as well as early recordings and material from older EP’s, there was something for every Pyke fan in the set list.
The real beauty about Josh Pyke’s music is that while it’s not really musically original or inventive, it’s got a real personality to it that shines through especially in a live context. The poetry of the lyrics is deliciously complemented by the completely laid-back vibe, and he’s got such a charismatic presence that it feels completely natural to sing along with him and feel a sense of personal connection.
That personal connection is also made so much more easily with the guy’s charm and gregariousness. Unlike other musicians who might only talk once or twice in a set to thank the crowd for coming along, Josh is a constant chatter and joker, taking photos of the crowd to commemorate the experience and wittily quipping often at his own expense. He began to play ‘Sew My Name’ at the wrong point in the set list, causing confusion for his guitarist – but when the guitarist didn’t play along, Josh joked “it was a test, you’re still in the band! I like to test my members in a live context”. He also paused to tune his guitar, using the silence as an opportunity to interview himself before ‘Variations’ and, in the encore, forgot the words in the chorus of ‘Fed and Watered’ and grabbed his head in mock frustration before launching back into it perfectly with the help of the band. This realness just hammers home the fact that he’s a guy who’s passionate about his music, but not to the point where it isolates him – he’s in it for the fun and he’s just as human as any of us.
Every time I’ve gone to see Josh Pyke I come out with the same impression, and that’s that this guy is serious about providing a fun and personal show for his fans. It’s a distinctly Australian experience in that the pretentious bullshit factor is low and the heart of it is so honest and accommodating – there’s no trouble at all seeing why and how he’s rapidly become one of the nation’s most loved contemporary players.
Set:
Chimney’s Afire
You Don’t Scare Me
Lines On Palms
Candle In Your Window
Forever Song
The Lighthouse Song
Our House Breathing
New Years Song
Memories and Dust
Make You Happy
Sew My Name
Parking Lots
Variations
Private Education
Don’t Wanna Let You Down
The Summer
Even In Corners
Where Two Oceans Meet
—
The Doldrums
Goldmines
Fed and Watered
Middle of the Hill
Photo: David Bennett
Coldplay really have become the biggest band in the world. The colossal commercial success of their latest release, 2008’s Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends, means they can charge $140 a ticket and still be able to sell out stadium shows with their legion of fiercely loyal followers – and that’s exactly what they’re doing this week. Returning for their first Australian visit since 2006’s Twisted Logic tour, the British supergroup are playing five packed-out shows at Sydney’s Acer Arena, beginning last night and ending on Sunday, to a 20 000 strong crowd each night.
But with growing popularity comes a wider fan base and, as last night’s show proved, Coldplay’s followers now include glitter-clad 12-year-olds pushing in front of annoyed punters in a vain attempt to find their mothers, and teenage girls chattering incessantly about all the unholy things they would do to singer Chris Martin. Irritating but not obnoxious – until the heckling began.
The support slots, filled by local post-punk group Decoder Ring and Buffalo dream-pop veterans Mercury Rev, were met with sarcastic cheers from the impatient crowd, with one particular teenage girl blocking her ears while her friend wailed “this is gross, I’m writing a letter of complaint!” Whilst Rev frontman Jonathan Donahue was admittedly quite ostentatious, it seemed that a vast majority of the audience were never willing to give him a chance anyway – and it’s a sad thing to witness when a city turns against the opportunity of discovering new music because of self-imposed walls. It’s also funny to note that Rev, formed in 1984, have been making music much longer than a lot of the haters have been alive.
Any hatred, however, instantly evaporated as soon as four shadows took to the stage, poised behind a thin veil. The crowd exploded as the band splashed into ‘Life in Technicolor’, kicking off a set that lasted close to two hours and included a steady mix of fan favourites. The stage setup was elaborately theatrical, as you’d expect a Coldplay concert to be – against a backdrop of the Viva cover, three large video balls hung (with similar balls and screens hanging from various parts of the arena roof) and a small antique television perched at the front of the stage also showed footage as it happened. The backdrop changed throughout the evening, with projection artwork, enormous video footage, dazzling block colours and a huge ‘VIVA LA VIDA’ making up just a few of its variations.
Martin, decked out in a beige shirt with a red V splattered on its front, was every bit the charismatic frontman, charmingly bantering between songs and leading the enchanted crowd in stadium sing-alongs of John Farnham’s ‘You’re The Voice’ and the Monkees’ ‘I’m A Believer’. Yellow confetti-filled balloons bounced above the audience as thousands of voices became one in singing ‘Yellow’,and the biggest cheers were saved for Viva La Vida‘s chart-topping title track, with lights illuminating the packed arena. The band also regularly departed the main stage for the two side platforms, and at one point went up into the stands, amidst speechless fans, for a three-song acoustic interlude (including drummer Will Champion taking the microphone for a dulcet rendition of Coldplay b-side ‘Death Will Never Conquer’).
But whilst this variation in performance did keep things interesting, the fact that they squeezed over 20 songs into less than two hours meant that there had to be some chopping and changing. ‘God Put A Smile Upon Your Face’ and ‘Talk’ were reinvented as techno remixes, whilst ‘The Hardest Part’ and ‘Speed of Sound’ were played acoustically (on piano and guitar, respectively) – but only in part. What this meant was that those in the audience who had not been to prior Coldplay concerts were left with an incomplete rendering of some favourite tracks – the boys deserve to be commended for their initiative in crafting a show distinctly separate from the recorded experience, but it sometimes felt a little too separate.
The set’s true highlight came near the end – after the acoustic interlude, the band returned to the main stage for an absolutely gorgeous ‘Lovers in Japan’, with cherry blossom projections flashing brightly on stage whilst rainbow butterfly-shaped confetti rained down onto the eager crowd. Whilst these kinds of props can be a little naff, Coldplay pull it off – what was, for the most part, a delightful evening was topped off by an adorably sweet shower of music and colour.
When at last they reached ‘Life in Technicolor ii’ after an encore performance of ‘The Scientist’, it felt as though the band had taken all present on a musical journey as the same riff that opened the show closed it. Obnoxious 12-year-olds and weird techno remixes aside, the rabid crowd enthusiasm and almost-note-perfect set last night proved that Coldplay have cemented their place as The New U2 – arguably the world’s most recognisable and accessible band.
Except that Chris Martin isn’t as much of a douche as Bono. Yet.
Set:
Life in Technicolor
Violet Hill
Clocks
In My Place
Yellow/You’re The Voice
Glass of Water
Cemeteries of London
42
Fix You
Strawberry Swing
God Put A Smile Upon Your Face
Talk
The Hardest Part
Postcards from Far Away
Viva La Vida
Lost!
Speed of Sound
I’m A Believer
Death Will Never Conquer
Viva La Vida (interlude)
—
Politik
Lovers in Japan
Death and All His Friends
—
The Scientist
Life in Technicolor II
The Escapist (outro)
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.
shakespeare's sister: another blog about music 