Shellac Ninja

It's a blog. With words. Mostly concerning music.

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Boards of Canada - The Campfire Headphase [Albums I Like]

I walk. It's raining. As I move through my home town, the derelict ornateness is overtaken gradually by an infestation of trees and grass. Cars still drive past with an aggressive howl, and planes still rocket overhead, but nature has claimed this land. I find a solitary bench under a tree, the only one not covered with scattered raindrops. I sit down, and Sherbet Head plays. It took me three years of listening to The Campfire Headphase to realise that no, that's not a forest on the cover, it's a beach. I chalk my mistake up to [a] youth and the lack of attention to detail one has in it, [b] the green tint and smudges, and [c] because this album sounds like a representation of nature in the Western world. Most Western woodland in the 21st century has been claimed and built upon by man - I am surrounded by statues in my green sanctuary, many dedicated to monarchs, while some are war memorials - but has been, and is, treated with respect by most. Even if technology is present, and sculpting much of the present world, there is still beauty we did not sculpt, beauty we could never create or replicate via synthesis. Boards of Canada are an electronic band that have made electronic music with electronic instruments and techniques. The Campfire Headphase is the only album where they provide a spotlight for quote-on-quote traditional instruments (mainly guitar). It's soft, tender and almost devoid of any human presence, unlike their previous work which featured several spoken word samples and clips of children laughing. That's probably why the comparison is so easy for me to make. The first four songs, excluding Into The Rainbow Vein (a pretty, lo-fi synth that is an example of BOC's short tracks, one of the few of their trademarks they brought over from 2001's Geogaddi), all have lead melodies performed on guitar. Chromakey Dreamcoat's rickety, old-timey intro forms the basis for the entire song, which eventually evolves into a lush synth soundscape as the BOC brothers slowly add layers onto the track until it collapses under its own wait, quickly slowing to a stop. A red squirrel just jumped past me. Peacock Tail, one of the album's standouts, hides faint African percussion and handclaps behind soothing, sweeping ambient textures. If the rhythm section wasn't the glue that held BOC together before, it certainly is now. Without the percussion the majority of the tracks feature, they would turn into Eno-esque ambient pieces. While that's no means a bad thing, nor something the duo doesn't do (the last two songs forgo drums), it adds an edge to songs that otherwise would be smooth and restrained. IDM's influence from hip hop was never more apparent than with these guys, and the rhythm section is the last reminder of that on this record. Hey Saturday Sun's melancholy guitars and synth flow over an undercurrent of a sinister bassline that seems to slow down the funkiness of similar riffs on older songs like Aquarius. Slow This Bird Down's glitched drum machine makes it, somehow, sound influenced by trap before it was even a thing. The record may sound similar when taken as a whole, but BOC's attention to detail - you know, the one I was lacking the three years before I reaaaaally looked at this album's cover - is ever present. They have a reputation for putting stuff in their songs you barely even notice unless you really pay attention; their complexity is subtle in their composition yet very noticeable in their production. '84 Pontiac Dream carries the same chords throughout but introduces a new idea almost every thirty seconds to express that progression. Oscar See Through Red Eye, the most electronic track on the album, again uses the same chord progression throughout but has several different melodies, often being performed at the same time. Try and count how many. I would, but I'm writing a review right now. I love how this album is such a cohesive and consistent sounding record but when you really analyse the songs they're all very different. The unrecognized complexity of these two's music is insane. I wouldn't even be surprised if each album's correspondence to the additive primary colours is intentional. In the context of Boards' discography this is a strange spot. When juxtaposed with their previous release, Geogaddi (more on that one later), The Campfire Headphase is much less dark and instead looks to optimism. Satellite Anthem Icarus is wistful and yet chooses not to adopt the melancholic nature of the nostalgia it aims to be the soundtrack to. While the album may take the peace and love attitude too far in places - single Dayvan Cowboy is an overrated excursion in stoner soft-rock - it's nice to see that this album is fuelled by light rather than terror, as Geogaddi was. The Campfire Headphase is a great album. It's easily the most gentle and steady release in the IDM genre, right when its original wave of popularity was fizzling out. Much like Farewell Fire fades into quiet dormancy, BOC put out a companion EP to this album and then...disappeared. For years. Of course, we know now this album was not BOC's final statement, but if it was, it would've been an ending to be proud of, and that's why I like this album.

FAVOURITE TRACKS: SATELLITE ANTHEM ICARUS, PEACOCK TAIL, ‘84 PONTIAC DREAM, OSCAR SEE THROUGH RED EYE

FURTHER LISTENING:

Trans Canada Highway is the obvious choice, seeing as it featured Dayvan Cowboy and is effectively the companion EP to this release. Some really good stuff in this package - everything that isn’t called Dayvan Cowboy is essential BOC listening.

BOC albums had a tradition, until their hiatus, of including exclusive bonus tracks in Japan, and this record is no exception. Macquarie Ridge is little-known outside of diehard fans, and that’s a massive shame. It’s great.

The only track released between this album and their next, the radically different Tomorrow’s Harvest, is Seven Forty Seven. Another fan favourite; it sounds like Campfire being remixed by Kevin Shields.

Next post: the SINGERS review I keep putting off.

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Adaptation and Interpretation

We'd watched a deconstruction of Romeo & Juliet. Not in the fascinating way but in the analytical way. Yet, it was framed as a comedy and most of the actors never broke character (from their roles in the play). This is not important.

I was walking out with my friend. He said that while he enjoyed Romeo & Juliet, he felt it was illegitimate as a play due to Shakespeare allegedly basing the story off of an old Italian tale. I nearly did a double take. Romeo & Juliet? Illegitimate? What!? 

I asked him to explain further and so he did. He felt that as it was not an original work and Shakespeare did not ask permission from the creator of the tale, it was not a legitimate art piece but rather an act of theft. This spiraled into a 20 minute argument about whether film and/or theater adaptations of popular literary works are even acceptable. My friend argued that if the author was involved, it was exempt from judgement. 

I present this memory because this article is a quick summary of my opinion on the subject. 

 Adaptation is a process that plays a big part in turning the gears of the Hollywood money generators - films in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, for example, would be nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay if they were anywhere near that caliber of film-making - and yet is seldom discussed in much depth. The most famous and acclaimed take on the subject, Charlie Kaufman's film Adaptation (and it really is his, not Spike Jonze's), details the struggles of the process but ultimately decides to satirize the sensationalisation of works when adapted into movies, for the purposes of making them more commercial. It rarely strays into comments on the audience's relationship with a piece, or even the original creator's relationship with it/them. 

Adaptations have been dismissed by many fans on many occasions, with some saying with just a pinch too much hyperbole that it's ruined the original piece for them. Such an attitude shows a shallow understanding of adaptations, and a shallow connection with the original piece. Art is interpreted on an individual basis. Everyone's thoughts and opinions on something will be different, even if it's in the most minute of ways. An adaptation is one interpretation out of a thousand million, and a thousand million can be formed around said adaptation. There Will Be Blood is an interpretation of the story Oil. A Clockwork Orange is an interpretation of the story of the same name. Romeo & Juliet is an interpretation of that old tale. If an adaptation ruins a piece for you then you clearly have no respect for your own interpretation of the piece. 

A good fan understands that though the piece is not theirs, what they take away from it absolutely is. This is why adaptation is justified and often necessary. It translates works into new mediums. It breaths new life into a piece. To adapt is an act of interpretation, a highly unique and personal process. Therefore, to view an adaptation is to view what it is to whoever adapts it. The original creator does not own the interpretation, and cannot own the interpretation. It can destroy it by providing a concrete version-of-events but nobody, even (especially!) the author, can own your interpretation. 

Now, a brief list of potential counter-arguments, and my response to each: 

"But it could be illegal under copyright law!" 

If it is plagiarism, yes, that is wrong. If someone creates a work and you create a derivative that is either the same as the original or very similar in tone and content, you must credit the original creator. 

I have long been opposed to the excessive copyright law surrounding writing, film and especially music for years. They are designed to prioritise the earning of money rather than the creation of new art. Again, plagiarism is wrong, as well as bootleg/pirate copies of art, and certain copyright laws are necessary to protect against those, but the reserving of all rights of so many works restricts creativity. Creative Commons licenses should be more common. I release a lot of my work under an Attribution Non-commercial license and I think it should be standard practice to do the same. I think there should be encouragement of deviating from the original work, too. No Derivatives licenses are terrible. 

"But what if a creator objects to the changes of their work in an adaptation?"

Okay? What the creator wants and what makes an adaptation (or any piece) good are not necessarily the same thing all the time. This is why editors exist for writing and film, producers exist for music and script supervisors exist for film. Gallery art (as I distinguish it) has no such role and it's filled with heaps of pretention and drivel. 

I'll give you an example. Susan Orlean, author of The Orchid Thief, objected to the making of the adaptation of the book (which later become the aforementioned Kaufman film Adaptation) after reading the script, feeling horrified. The studio didn't listen to her. It is now regarded as one of the greatest films of the 21st century. 

"But films are worse than books! Always!" 

 If you sincerely think this you haven't consumed a lot of either.

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Jack White - Blunderbuss [Albums I Like]

Jack White is one of those strange musicians that is hated by a lot of the people who used to (or currently) listen to his music, even though he hasn’t really done anything to deserve it. His consistent extravagance and strangeness is constantly visible through the output (physical and musical) of his vinyl-revitalizing label Third Man Records, but that’s hardly manifested itself as malevolence or disrespect for the medium of records and/or music. Quite the opposite, actually – White’s approach towards his projects has grown increasingly meticulous and attentive to detail as his resources have grown. Compare Blunderbuss to his independent albums with The White Stripes, and that much is incredibly obvious.

Blunderbuss is a strangely bright record for Mr. White, even more so considering the circumstances. This is the first record he released after his divorce from model (and musician) Karen Elson, the mother of his two children. You’d think he’d create a piece dealing with the pain of romantic separation – and he does, in places – but the instrumentation is unconventionally radiant and breezy (in places) for a man whose last three records, with The Dead Weather and The Raconteurs, have dwelled in darkness and gothic venom. Indeed, White whips out the distorted lead guitar for rock numbers Sixteen Saltines and Freedom at 21, two of the most gripping and compelling displays of cool aggression he’s ever put to wax, but this is the closest he’s ever come to the Americana, folk and delta blues that influenced him as a young man. None of them are new presences in his work, but they were all fed through some kind of filter. With the Stripes, it was seen through the lens of garage rock and punk. There’s no filter here. That’s why halfway through recording, White realised this had to be a solo record; Blunderbuss is a representation of himself created by paying homage to the music that’s shaped him.

After the aforementioned stadium anthems that front the record, White settles into the core of the record, with the sedated Love Interruption and Blunderbuss. The former is a clear reference to his failed marriage, vowing to stave off love for the foreseeable future, while the latter describes an affair with a married woman through the metaphor and imagery of an exploding blunderbuss. A blunderbuss, for those curious, is a short large-bored gun firing balls or slugs. It’s a weird choice, but is there a choice White makes that isn’t? No. Thought not.

I realise I’m moving through the record chronologically in rather pedestrian fashion, but for good reason, as immediately after these tracks White pulls off one of the greatest five song stretches in a song I’ve ever heard. Beginning with the suave, bouncing Hypocritical Kiss and ending with the upbeat Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy, these five songs are mainly led by piano and a full, vibrant backing band. White’s punk spirit is channelled very differently here: these songs hardly fit into that category of rock instrumentally, but his often-distorted vocals assert themselves confidently, sometimes bordering on the shout-singing that was so common in his lo-fi work. Yes, there’s his (by now obligatory) guitar shredding, most prominently on his cover of classic song I’m Shakin’, made popular by infamous R&B star Little Willie John, but now there’s now wild, scattered piano soloing, and a myriad of other instruments you wouldn’t expect a garage-rock superstar to use: pedal steel, brass, and several soulful female backup singers. Every track is consistent in tone and instrumentation, exercising an enormous amount of restraint for the Wonka of music, while still being suitably crazy. Weep Yourself to Sleep’s dramatic piano chords and squealing guitar solo provide a distinct, melodramatic energy, and Trash Tongue Talker is as badass as music openly taking influence from country can be.

This is partially in this series due to nostalgia. It was the first record of Jack’s I listened to. Maybe that’s why I like it the best. But that’s hardly a detriment to what is obviously a good record, at least. If this had been released in the 50s or 60s, it would have been huge and an instant classic, but as it is, it’s a commercial success that’s been seriously underrated by critics. The smooth, soulful groove of opener Missing Pieces, the fantastic crescendo of Take Me With You When You Go, and so many other moments of this record are mostly unrecognized strokes of genius. That’s going to be a theme from now on, by the way. A lot of my favourite records have been given a raw deal by critics and, by extension, fans of music who pay attention to critics. I like to ignore them and form my own opinions. And I have. I did for this record. And it’s an album that I like.

FAVOURITE TRACKS: MISSING PIECES, TRASH TONGUE TALKER, I’M SHAKIN’

FURTHER LISTENING:

Lazaretto, this album’s successor, is very similar to it, except with a bit more rock influence.

Each of the album’s four singles came with a b-side track, and of these the most notable are Machine Gun Silhouette and Love Is Blindness. The latter was later featured in Baz Luhrmann’s adaptation of The Great Gatsby. The film is okay. The song is great.

Next post: an underrated IDM record.

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Mount Eerie - Clear Moon [Albums I Like]

NOTE:

One cannot begin a conversation about Phil Elverum in 2018 without also making it a conversation about his sadly deceased wife, Geneviève Elverum. That much I discovered when I told my boyfriend I was going to write a review of Clear Moon. By the time the topic moved elsewhere we had both cried. It’s strange to feel agony for a man only one of us had met (my boyfriend) and neither of us knew. Such is the nature of adoration for an artist. Such is the nature, now, of Phil Elverum. He and Geneviève were the last people who deserved this.

Geneviève is on this album. She’s on its best track, Over Dark Water. One day, years ago, that wasn’t something that would have attracted anything more than a passing mention. She made music too and therefore had collaborated with Phil throughout their relationship. Her presence would not have been interesting to anybody who knew anything about Phil and his career. “There’s Geneviève again. Cool.” Not anymore.

Clear Moon is not a record about Geneviève’s death. Her absence was far from conceivable when it was created. She was still a person when it was created, and a very loved person at that.

REVIEW:

It’s impossible to know for sure what number album Clear Moon is in Mount Eerie’s discography. Wikipedia calls it the fifth. RateYourMusic has it in eighth place. What can be said for certain is that it’s part of a very intentional two album set. Clear Moon is the first installment, released in May 2012; Ocean Roar, the second part was released in August of the same year. Ocean Roar is good, but not part of this series (or at least, not planned to be at the time of writing), as Clear Moon is a far more refined, atmospheric and engaging record. 

Despite the premise of the self-contained two-part saga, Clear Moon is much more referential to what came before it. There are several mentions of concepts featured in in its predecessor Wind’s Poem and Phil’s other projects (such as the album Mount Eerie, by The Microphones), and several Elverum hallmarks are in full effect here: The opener, Through The Trees pt. 2, is a sequel to an 11 minute track from Wind’s Poem, and there are two instrumental “(Something)” tracks, which have appeared frequently throughout most of Phil’s albums from It Was Hot, We Stayed in the Water (a Microphones album released in 2000). 

Clear Moon is a record about clarity. That’s not my interpretation, it’s Phil’s. “Clear Moon is more focused on those moments of clarity.” Yet, for a record about clarity, it’s very comfortable existing in a sea of obscurity and darkness. Yawning Sky’s lyrics question a belief and device that has been referenced in Phil’s songs for many years - the personification of the world (and the solar system, the universe, etc.) as an abstract entity. Yet simultaneously, it reaffirms a new device in his lyricism: ancientness. Referencing the song Ancient Questions from, you guessed it, Wind’s Poem, Yawning Sky talks about the ancient unknown, referring to lost history and memories, as he questions his own past. Ocean Roar has a track talking about “ancient times”, furthering the exploration of this concept. 

Clear Moon, while still featuring the acoustic guitar and semi-heavy distortion of its unique predecessors, introduces electronic instrumentation into Phil’s music in a move that contrasts his previously all-analog approach a lot. House Shape, after an uptempo, rock-influenced first section, transitions into a synth-led portion that’s the closest to pop that Mount Eerie has ever gotten (besides the disastrous Pre-Human Ideas compilation). And, almost humorously, it is immediately followed by the vast, industrial beauty of Over Dark Water. Here, the heavy influence the album has drawn from drone and ambient music is most percussive, as Phil and Geneviève harmonize over a distorted, percussion-less drawl, with haunting strings and feedback echoing in the distance. Clear Moon, which follows it after a very short (Something) track, further demonstrates this, as Phil’s occasionally auto-tuned(!) vocals sit above ambient organs, synths and guitars, as well as heavily reverberated orchestral drums and cymbals. The whole album has an underlying, cerebral mystique that is very comparable to Twin Peaks, especially on The Place I Live. 

In what is by this point an incredibly big discography, Clear Moon seems like a culmination of certain themes, an intended new artistic direction for Phil Elverum while yet remaining its own unique object (despite not having been intended to be so). Phil is at his most ambient and apocalyptic on this record, and the atmosphere conjured up is simply incredible. In the context of his career this was a risk that paid off massively, and that is why I like this album.

FAVOURITE TRACKS: OVER DARK WATER, THE PLACE I LIVE

FURTHER LISTENING:

In case you hadn’t gathered from this review, Wind’s Poem and Ocean Roar are both pretty essential listens to extract everything this record has to offer out of it.

Phil also released a 7″ of all the songs from this album and Ocean Roar being played at the same in 2012. A musical oddity, but an intriguing one if you’ve heard the originals.

The more traditional single To The Ground was also released in this period.

And just because, here’s an official live bootleg featuring a few songs from the album.

Next post: the first solo album from one of the biggest rock musicians on the planet.

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Squarepusher - Hard Normal Daddy [Albums I Like]

Squarepusher’s second album - his first for his current label, Warp - is dependent on something best described not as complexity but controlled chaos. This is music that is simultaneously rigid and robotic, and yet falling apart at the seams. There’s rarely a moment in the record, released in 1997, that isn’t breathtakingly relentless in pace and attitude. Hard Normal Daddy, when viewed in the context of Squarepusher’s (vastly inconsistent) discography, is very easily pigeonholed as a transitional album: stuck between Feed Me Weird Things’ dark, obscure (albeit occasionally funky) drum-and-bass or Music Is Rotted One Note’s sloppy, experimental, electronic jazz fusion. Such a period is easily viewed when comparing two tracks from HND - Chin Hippy and Papalon are next to each other in the track listing and yet contrast the two central sounds on the album perfectly, as if one is the ying to the other’s yang (and 500 other metaphors to demonstrate juxtaposition, in stores now). Chin Hippy sputters and spurts in and out of an aggressive, almost atonal existence. It’s unquestionably electronic, as if such a thing needed to be clarified for an artist labelled as IDM so often.

...Well, actually, it does. This is Squarepusher. His musical intent does not begin and end at electronic music, and Papalon demonstrates this magnificently. The song could hardly be called an acoustic effort, not with smooth, jazzy electronic pianos surrounding the already synth-laden track, but they circle hectic, brushed drums and horns that glide effortlessly between notes, like an ethereal presence. As Papalon’s eight minutes quickly run out, the song gradually becomes slower and slower, but loses none of its intensity; a gradual buildup of energy erupts towards the end of the second half of the piece, leaving a wonderful crescendo in its wake. 

These two tracks are merely two extremities. The rest of the album combines the two to make what was at the time a startlingly innovative mixture that no other musician would’ve likely thought of without Tom Jenkinson’s guidance. Beep Street uses a mysterious, ambient-leaning keyboard melody over jazzy, sickeningly quick drums. (The snare resembles an electric drill at points.) E8 Boogie is an early demonstration of Jenkinson’s ridiculous amount of talent on the bass guitar, coupled with a irresistible, funky, wahing lead. The whole album wavers between its musical identities, and the musical identities of its creator, and while he would go on to explore his jazz, funk and electronic interests in later projects, this remains the most compelling and engaging fusion of all three. Though the Richard D James Album predates HND, Squarepusher’s influence upon the former (and Aphex Twin’s forthcoming glitch/drill-and-bass material in Drukqs and other projects) is obvious once you have a knowledge of both artists’ material. The two shared a lot of musical genetics, and collaborated heavily in the development of their ideas and musical intentions. By fusing jazz and the (at the time) barely-emerging drill-and-bass genres, Squarepusher created an obscure, modern classic that is undeniably intriguing, even if it’s not to your taste. Give it a listen if you haven’t already, because I like this album.

FAVOURITE TRACKS: PAPALON, BEEP STREET

FURTHER LISTENING:

Music Is Rotted One Note was Squarepusher’s next album after Hard Normal Daddy, and went completely nuts. Tom Jenkinson threw structure out of the window and instead created an obtuse jazz-fusion suite. Give it a go if you like this and you want to be challenged.

Squarepusher released several projects in 1997, but the most remembered is probably the Big Loada EP. This EP contains his biggest hit, Come On My Selector; Chris Cunningham made a video for the song in 1998. 

The compilation Burningn'n Tree was released a few months after Hard Normal Daddy.

Squarepusher never quite made it back up to the standards of his 1996-1998 period, in my opinion. That isn’t to say he didn’t make any other good projects - Go Plastic contains many of his greatest hits and Ultravisitor is considered by many to be a great album - but they aren’t classics in the same way his releases around that time are now.

Next post: a singer-songwriter’s most ominous and apocalyptic work to date.

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Albums I Like

Hey. I’m going to put out articles/reviews about albums I like. I’ll link to them all here - this can be a masterpost of sorts. Originally, I was going to rank them, but I realised this was a stupid idea after the first couple of reviews. 

Squarepusher - Hard Normal Daddy

Mount Eerie - Clear Moon

Jack White - Blunderbuss

Boards of Canada - The Campfire Headphase

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Drawing a line.

Fuck trying to be a proper music outlet, I’m just going to write about what I want, because that takes the pressure off. Thanks xoxoxoxo

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some very quick thoughts on why i don’t listen to pinkerton

(i wrote this originally as a facebook comment, hence the lack of capitals. thought i’d post it here because i think i articulated my thoughts on this record well, even if this is only a fraction of what i could and can say about it. have edited some portions but made it obvious when i have. thanks.)

the problem [with pinkerton] is rivers isn't a very likable protagonist/narrator. kanye on MBDTF, for example, isn't really that much of a "good" person but that's kind of the point, as the maximalism of the production is there to show the increased narcissism and self-importance of the Kanye persona. the entire point of that album is that Kanye has very much gone mad with power, but he's not evil. he's the kind of douchebag that you'd enjoy listening to but you wouldn't want to know personally. rivers on pinkerton is just f-cking weird and misogynistic and creepy. he's an emotional wreck and doesn't really have a filter in place, which leads to his lyrics being an incredibly strange maelstrom of dark thoughts, reckless cynicism and a terrible attitude towards women. it's not an enjoyable listen because it's not an enjoyable spectacle. best analogy i can think of is that while kanye's bout of insanity is comparable to that of caligula [i.e an arrogant ruler obsessed with himself and riches who’s also f-cking mental, and whose reported antics are very very funny], rivers' insanity is more akin to that of a serial killer. it's seedy, uncomfortable and intimate in the worst way possibly. honestly i'd probably love it if it were an instrumental album. but as it is i can't listen to it without feeling a bit uncomfortable. 

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On ‘In The Aeroplane Over The Sea’

Beneath all the flak it gets from "real music" fans, the overhyped, mostly falsified legends about Mangum, a man who wanted and has been unable to lead a relatively quiet life and make music without hordes of /mu/ lurkers ripping at every ounce of his flesh and art, and the long-winded, emotional reviews, write-ups and excited mutterings between friends that don't actually talk about the music at all, In The Aeroplane Over The Sea is just a damn good album. It isn't a magic, ethereal piece of light from the heavens, although it's easy to see why some people think of it that way. It's a series of recordings that five guys (NMH and producer Robert Schneider) came together and made using whatever instruments they could get their hands on. For all its weirdness, the eclecticism, the noise and fuzz and dead girls, the core is astoundingly normal. Mangum is a normal person who is very, very good at songwriting, and his friends and associates are a very skilled group of musicians. Julian Koster, in particular, is one of my favourite contemporary musicians and artists and one who I feel is not recognised enough, tragically, because of his close association with Mangum. There's this weird fetishisation of the latter that I imagine has put many people off the band, although I suppose it does stem from a fair reason. Mangum is a passionate worker, an emotional soul and the epitome of so-uncool-it's-cool. A large portion of people find themselves relating to him and yet this image of him has formed where people see him as this ultimate enigma, this image of complete and utter mystery, when really he was just a guy who didn't like attention. As I imagine most of the people who spun his tale are too.

Christ, now I've done it too. Writing an article about In The Aeroplane Over The Sea that has nothing to do with the record, I mean. Point being - Aeroplane is a fantastic indie rock record that set the benchmark for an oncoming generation of talent in that very genre. It ebbs and flows between tidal waves of fuzz, static and noise and beautiful, melancholic acoustic guitar and brass. Mangum, Koster, Spillane and Barnes effortlessly convey sadness, warmth, joy, grief and pride, sometimes with only four chords. It's a remarkable achievement and an incredibly enjoyable listen. And it's a record. A normal, yet utterly remarkable, record.

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Animal Collective - Meeting Of The Waters EP REVIEW

Animal Collective haven’t exactly been keeping up the winning streak they were on throughout the entirety of the 2000s. While their visual album ODDSAC was a triumph, if not a particularly celebrated one in comparison to their 2009 breakthrough effort Merriweather Post Pavillion (sadly), their 2012 LP, Centipede HZ, received polarizing reviews with some calling it weaker than the stream of ground-breaking experimental pop albums that came before (this reviewer strongly disagrees, but nonetheless), and their most recent album, Painting With, was quite possibly their least critically favoured album since the harsh-noise-influenced Danse Manatee all the way back in 2001, with many complaining that the songs were too repetitive, bouncy and that a lot of them were not compositionally diverse or fully formed. It didn’t help that it was overshadowed by the outstanding solo effort by on-and-off-again band member Deakin, a project that had been anticipated for just over six years.

It’s very encouraging to see a return to form of sorts, then. Meeting Of The Waters is a radically different record to Painting With. Gone are the synthetic gurgles, bouncy rhythms and straightforward pop songs of their latest album – potentially in part due to the absence of drummer and co-songwriter Panda Bear on this EP, a first for Animal Collective. Meeting Of The Waters is an ambient experimental folk album recorded in the depths of the Amazon rainforest, featuring subtle soundscapes courtesy of aural wizard Geologist and gentle, at times awkward but always minimal and lovely acoustic guitar and vocals from frontman Avey Tare. Opening track Blue Noses is a 13-minute-long (!!!) track surrounded by chirps and forest ambience from the start to the finish, but this is not a downside to recording outside in Brazil. Rather, they add to the atmosphere of the song immensely, making it seem more naturalistic. It’s like a soundtrack to running through the woods as a child, discovering unknown places buried deep within nature. It wouldn’t be out of place at all in a Zelda game. Actually, it wouldn’t be out of place on their 2003 record Campfire Songs, which is very good news to a lot of fans.

Man Of Oil, which was played on various radio stations prior to this extended play’s release on Record Store Day (oh, did I not mention it’s a vinyl exclusive at the moment?), takes on a more traditional song structure compared to the rest of the EP. It invokes reminders of the previous Animal Collective records Sung Tongs and Prospect Hummer; it’s interesting that Animal Collective are revisiting sounds considering how much they’ve reinvented themselves over the years. This of course is no bad thing, as Man Of Oil is fantastic. The song is chilled, subdued, happy and sad simultaneously, and you could even go as far to call it beautiful. Avey’s delicate “ooohs” in the chorus perfectly compliment the mellow guitar and Geologist’s avant-garde percussion. Instrumental track Amazonawana / Anaconda Opportunity, strangely, completely does away with vocals in favour of looped flutes soaked in reverb for a strange soundscape that is partly creepy, partly childlike and laid back, and wholly and obviously Geologist’s baby. It’s interesting to see drone AnCo/Geologist projects, a concept that has been teased in previous EPs but never immortalized in a full length, in action on a studio(?) release, and Amazonawana is definitely the strangest and most experimental piece any of the band have widely released in a very long time. Closing piece Selection Of A Place is a similarly structure-eschewing counter to Blue Noses, occasionally breaking out into bursts of harsh noise, and while it’s probably the weakest track on the album it’s still entertaining.

Meeting Of The Waters is the release many Animal Collective fans have been waiting over a decade for. It’s a strange acoustic marvel that despite the long track lengths (Blue Noses is one of the longest ever AnCo songs) doesn’t outstay its welcome, and it captures the “sound of the rainforest” very well. With this and the upcoming physical release of The Painters EP, Animal Collective might just have entered their second golden age. 

7/10

[shellacninja-blog]

Gorillaz - Humanz REVIEW

Gorillaz’s last two albums (excluding fan club gift The Fall) have begun with atmospheric intro tracks that have set the mood well for the albums to come. Demon Days introduced itself with walls of strange noise and almost chilling horns, while Plastic Beach chose to start with an almost emotional orchestral intro. Humanz begins with somebody saying “I switched my robot off.” To be fair, it is sadly indicative of the album to come – it’s not particularly eventful in any way and doesn’t lead to any particular atmosphere.

Humanz is the fourth/fifth (depending on who you ask) studio album by virtual band Gorillaz, aka the musical playground of 21st century renaissance man Damon Albarn and his many friends, among them animator Jamie Hewlett, responsible for the group’s visuals. Originally conceived as a piss-take of MTV and celebrity culture, with critically acclaimed sophomore effort Demon Days the project turned into one of the most interesting and popular alternative pop/hip hop “bands” in the world. Humanz calls back to Demon Days on the (digital) album cover, using the same four-square format Demon Days displayed on its sleeve – which in turn was a parody of Let It Be – but the music does not follow suit. While this is definitely still alternative hip hop, it definitely swings more in the favour of the modern pop-rap scene than the creepy alt-rock fusion Gorillaz was previously known for. Tracks like Let Me Out wouldn’t seem completely out of place on the new Drake album…mixtape…playlist…thing, and while this isn’t a bad thing by default it does make the record seem less like Gorillaz and more like anybody else.

It also doesn’t help that the entire album seems somewhat digitised. You may think this is ironic considering this is a virtual band we’re talking about, but the instrumentation seems much less organic than previous records. Momentz seems cheap and dated, a shame considering it’s the album’s obligatory De La Soul feature; they are absolutely wasted here. A lot of the actual songs are compositionally adequate and this style works with some of them: lead single Saturnz Barz seems almost lo-fi in parts, and the deep synth bass and kick drum lend well to the dirty and dark vibe. Popcaan’s vocals, while buried under unnecessary vocal effects at times, are mostly fitting, and Albarn’s half of the song is a strong contender for the best moment on the entire album, with its haunting choral background vocals contributing more to that creepy vibe. Strobelite’s synthesised funkiness is catchy and danceable, with great (if slightly over the top at times) vocals by Peven Everett, and the Grace Jones (!!) featuring Charger is aggressive, snarky and urgent. For the negativity that has been in this review so far, it’s important to mention that Albarn is still an extremely capable songwriter and a lot of the songs here are catchy and memorable. It’s just a shame that he’s barely on the album.

Watch “Saturnz Barz (Spirit House)”:

While previous albums have predominantly featured Albarn on vocals, Humanz shifts focus onto the army of collaborators that have formed around him. Sometimes it works (the aforementioned Strobelite and Saturnz Barz, Ascension) and sometimes it really doesn’t. Sex Murder Party, with the whispers of the song’s titles over the half-baked instrumental, is almost embarrassing. Hallelujah Money’s lyrics and instrumental are good, but Benjamin Clementine’s vocals flow horribly – they don’t fit the song at all, and one can’t help but think that the song would’ve been much improved if Albarn had taken the helm, like on Andromeda, which calls back much more to previous albums than the rest of Humanz. This storm of collaborators and all their different styles has contributed to a variance of different styles on the album, and while this may seem like a good thing on paper, combined with the pointless and sometimes cringeworthy (most notably The Non-conformist Oath) interludes, the album lacks cohesion and flow. Humanz has been out for three days at the time of writing and the twelve year old Demon Days sounds more fresh and modern. As the album closes on the abysmal Noel Gallagher featuring We’ve Got The Power, you can’t help but think “That’s it?” and still feel like the album’s outstayed its welcome at 20 tracks.

There’s no denying that there are fantastic moments on Humanz, but at a lot of points in the album it feels like a collection of half-baked MIDI demos that don’t fit together. It doesn’t quite reach the threshold of bad, but considering Albarn’s recent output it’s incredibly disappointing.

4/10