STAR SLINGER - TAKE THIS UP

Star Slinger has released another hot beat called 'Take This Up', a disjointed bevvy of little highly strung beats in a vein similar to his first digital-only LP Volume 1, except with a more mainstream dance feel than Volume 1's quasi-spaced out charms. Download it free below.

(I say 'another'. They don't come nearly often enough!)

LUCY ROSE - LIKE I USED TO [ALBUM STREAM]

Potentially a review to come. Out tomorrow on Columbia Records. Lucy is playing in-stores in London this week before embarking on a UK tour.

ALUNAGEORGE - YOUR DRUMS, YOUR LOVE

Now, amazingly Madlib’s Freddie Gibbs’ n Co’s ‘Shame’ has stayed with me throughout this time of hiatus. I have only just recently uploaded it to my mp3 player and it has unleashed a whole new wave on endless playing. I don’t know what it is about that song, but play count may well be in the 300-400 now. It STILL never gets old.

Anyway, yes – in addition to Disclosure, I should have mentioned a band that are still really dear to my heart, if, in part, due to their obscurity and wackiness, but also incredibleness and impossible to define sense of effortless pop: that is Philco Fiction. I will not be around when they play Rough Trade East for the release (FINALLY FINALLY) of Take It Personal, which came out last month, but seriously go and see this band. The guys have been knocking around town since last year with this album (got meself two signed LPs innit, see below J) and they just seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves. Some press has been floating about, if you check the Google.

ELSEWHERE, the fun shall continue with this song: ‘Your Drums, Your Love’ by AlunaGeorge. Now I thought about posting when this duo hit with their debut You Know You Like It EP on TriAngle records (formerly How to Dress Well, Clams Casino, Holy Other- go check it out), but just didn’t quite feel that the sterile pop polish worked for me so thought against it (such are the exceptional perfectionist tendencies we (read: I) have on this blog). But anyway – firstly, the artwork for that EP was the nads. See here. IMHO, anything that simple and breathy somehow, irrationally, but very rationally, signals something worth paying attention to. And secondly, and more importantly, ‘Your Drums, Your Love’ is simply a massive step forward. I have already heard this being played on the radio and was pleased to see that an act so clearly suited to the mainstream crossover of dance, R&B and pop that is so popular right now and finally making strides.

Here is the video. AlunaGeorge are an amalgamation of their two names George Reid and Aluna Francis by the way, just to clear that up. Touring the UK in November.  

I AM BACK!

Thank you loyal readers for keeping this blog on the air. You have been reading and I have been a bad, bad blogger.

There has been SO much great new music out there. I won’t even BEGIN to tell you how the new XX album amazed me, or how Wild Nothing are currently infusing 80s urban wilderness into my discontented lungs. But my, the indie sun has shone mightily on all things in the alternative blogosphere. I would like to point out a particular success since this blog has been away – the band/London duo called Disclosure, who this blog featured way back in June 2011 (Oh yes, waaay back people. You heard it here first aite?) Well they have skkkyrocketed of late, out of oblivion and in to mass homes, on to radio and towards an excellent set that recently completed an Bestival, loosely coinciding with the release/leaking on ‘Latch’, which can be found here. There will be more to come. I just can’t figure out what to write about next. Hmmm….

JAI PAUL - JASMINE (DEMO)

In the background of Jai Paul’s website for‘Jasmine’ is a repeated and unexplained picture of a Mercedes Benz and a random dude smiling. Arranged in the headache-inducing style of Microsoft’s tile background option, it brings to mind a very bad graphics student’s attempt at a collage, or a teenager’s quickly thrown together Myspace page.

According to XL, Jai has a DIY ethic. Like the band website that seems deliberately shit and brings to mind nostalgia for the internet’s blocky early design era, Jai’s taste in an unwavering self-effacing public image chimes with the fact that offsetting music against an incongruous and shambolic aesthetic is distinguishing. This is especially when most around you are trying to do crisp, clear and easy to comprehend.

Jai Paul is far from that though. He is an iconoclast. ‘Taking a break’ or so it would seem after self-produced ‘BTSTU(Edit)’, he reclaimed the critical limelight with ease after five years out with only track, and formerly only one track to his name. Now ladies and gents, we have ‘Jasmine’. The song was on Pitchfork and other leading music blogs almost immediately after it was posted to Soundcloud and was invariably lavished with praise.

Despite being released by XL (Adele, The XX, Willis Earl Beal), ‘Jasmine’ has the interesting qualification ‘(demo)’. To me this is interesting because a demo that’s brill, as opposed to a single that’s brill, makes you think the ‘real thing’ will be even better. Except because the ‘demo’ is actually the ‘real thing’ / the version that’s being released in stores near you, this is clearly not a demo at all! ‘Demo’ both excuses ‘Jasmine’s vague crackly production and smartly suggests that this clearly brilliant record is not Jai in full flow, but half-formed, casual demo…ism. This might be the thinking anyway.

Also, when you hear ‘Jasmine’s cassette-like muffling, you’ll swear you’ve ‘discovered’ Jai, even if you do notice it’s already clocked 700,000 odd plays on Soundcloud. It has that demo quality; that personal touch that ‘BTSTU (Edit)’ had. Where the latter went "Don’t fuck with me, don’t fuck with me" in its disturbingly gentle opening, this pulses with a skittery funk beat whose distant production sounds like it was recorded in a church confessions booth.  

Jai is enigmatic. At only 21 odd when XL signed him, ‘BTSTU (Edit)’ was I believe his only available track online, which makes you wonder what XL knew about him that we didn’t (or don’t), particularly given that he seems to be a songwriter/producer first of all. Yet Stereogum have called him ‘possibly visionary’; in an interview with XL owner Richard Russell about XL's success, Russell said ‘Jai is a wizard.’ The BBC even cast him in their Sound of 2011 poll for 2011's most promising artist or band, such was the furore surrounding Jai’s exceptionally good but small output. That year, RockFeedback’s feature on Jai (complete with his provisional driving licence photo) just concluded “There’s not much we can do with Jai Paul nowapart from to carrying on listening to the pop genius of ‘BTSTU.” That’s then.

The story of Jai Paul is certainly intriguing so far. Whatever happens next though, ‘Jasmine’, I’m sure you’ll agree, is indeed superb, worthy of the praise lavished upon it. If ‘BTSTU (Edit)’ struck music’s beating heart once, ‘Jasmine’ can do so again.


Pre-order 'Jasmine' on limited vinyl here.

MADLIB & FREDDIE GIBBS - SHAME

Right, so- simply, this is the best song I’ve heard this summer. It’s making me so happy. The sample- The Manhattans’ 1973 ‘Wish That You Were Mine’ combines with Freddie Gibbs’ rapping to make this an epic track from Madgibbs’ Shame EP (that being the second collaboration between workaholic machine producer Madlib and Freddie Gibbs). The first was Thuggin’ and can be found here.

For those who don’t know, Madlib’s behind some of the rawest soul slash mashup hip hop shit to grace physical formats since J Dilla. Part of Jaylib with the late J Dilla and a prolific producer, you should check out Madlib Medicine Show which runs to over a dozen volumes of beats, spits, spats and crazy if you don’t already know him.  

Meanwhile, BJ The Chicago Kid sings beautifully on ‘Shame’. Smashed together with Gibbs’ majorly explicit, uncompromising rapping, he punctures that machismo one night stand posturing and turns it into something tender, smooth and sexy. After 40 listens, I can confirm that the BJ The Chicago Kid’s hook may have been sent from god.     

MUSIC AND VIDEO EXCHANGE, NOTTING HILL, LONDON

One of the things about doing this music blog is I listen to so much music I love that I feel compelled to write about it and share the word. However, often, I don’t actually have the time to write because I’m so busy listening. Consequently, the more I need the blog, the less time I have for it- a most frustrating irony.  

This is exacerbated by my ever constant music shopping, on early evening finishes at work and on weekends. Whether online or via haunts in London’s East and West, music shopping has become a prong of my music obsession in itself.

So this is the story of how my music shopping story began. Really this is appropriate for Record Store Day, but let’s ignore that because this post didn’t come together in my head until now. Shopping in shops for physical formats had an impact on me as a 23 year old man who grew up with the digitisation transition. For me, it would be a shame to see the extinction of the CD, but especially vinyl. This is not supposed to persuade you of the merits of physical record shops either way. You just read it if you like, and go about your business…

38 Notting Hill Gate, W11 - The flagship store

At 14, I was introduced to the London chain of retro/vintage clothing, music and bric-a-brac shops known as the Music and Video Exchange. For those who don’t know, primarily based around the upper class Notting Hill area of London, and with affiliate stores in Berwick Street (Soho), Camden and Birmingham (I have never been to this one), MVE, or the Record and Tape Exchange, as it was known, offers arguably the most interesting, unexpected and deliberately low key second-hand music shopping experience in London.

Its key feature is what first drew my attention. At 14 and running low on pocket money, I sought alternatives to expensive entertainment retailers. Even small discounts increased my leverage in the entertainment world. (You can imagine what I was like when Ebay arrived.) So on asking my brother keenly why it was that all of his vinyl- I had a mature range of twelve choice CDs at the time, mainly garage, aye- had these price grids on them, he confirmed my suspicion that MVE had a policy of knocking down prices until someone buys the item. "This is my sort of place", I thought. "By its very nature there will be bargains. I just hope they have that Oasis whatsit I love so much."

Music stores are the clear pillar of MVE’s vintage cultural offering. Although I did not know this when I asked the question, as London’s most serious and arguably well-respected second-hand music institution, MVE is a magnet for vinyl and CDs from all over the world, from every genre, of every quality, rotating relentlessly, unbendingly, as customers plunder its stock, leave a hell of a lot of Bread vinyl, and wait for the staff to slip in some new treats- hopefully- before your next visit.

At school, I notified the posse I was planning a visit. It hadn’t occurred to me to look on the net, so when we all rocked up one Sunday afternoon, it all came as a surprise. As I wandered the main floor that day, quietly pleased that I recognised some of the titles, the prices were at first a disappointment. This was ok, but no cigar.

Art Tatum, Fleetwood Mac...R Kelly

A sign however pointed to basement. My friends and I descended a flight of stairs and what greeted me at the bottom was a moment I can honestly say I still remember vividly. Rows upon rows of rock/pop CDs lined the wall, spines facing outward, with prices knocked down on each item pound by pound, to occasionally superb prices. Oasis’ What’s The Story Morning Glory (I think I was surprised they had this, such was my charming open-mindedness): £6, £5 right down to £2. In Virgin Megastore, this was no doubt at least a tenner. Beatles back catalogue? £4 for Abbey Road – a thank you- and £5 for Rubber Soul. No doubt such prices could be found elsewhere in second-hand retailers around, but with the concept of near-limitless browsable and affordable albums at my fingertips and the prospect of sudden discoveries and impulsive purchases suddenly revealed to me, the bargain CD floor filled me with excitement.       

Now as you can imagine, the sort of environment I describe can take a lot out of shop assistants and customers alike; row upon row of tediously monitored stock. As any music shop assistant will tell you, myself briefly included, cataloguing is a pain, but this place is that in over-drive. Due only to its immense success and dogged pricing/margin structure, the atmosphere is dominated by the ethics of a very specific but loyal part of its clientele- the die-hard anorak (often seen, majestically, in the English woodland countryside in the Fall), a product of years of plunder and discovery, with over-flowing knowledge (and sometimes unfortunately fewer social facets), now with a single-minded pursuit for purchases, that will allow him to rest easy (and it is invariably a ‘him’), until the next single-minded pursuit for purchases. While I hope frankly I don’t become one, serious minded affectionados rule the roost at MVE. This is arguably its second most well known characteristic, after its pricing.  A noticeable smell hangs in the air of most of its shops, of dirty, dusty vinyl racks and men’s unwashed trousers. Trendy Rough Trade East this is not.

Next door, Soul and Dance

The same prevalence of eclectic characters among the shop’s customers is also present among staff. There are some musico titans in here. I don’t know who they are ‘cos I’m too afraid to speak to them (I’ll come on to that), but they are a matrix of music knowledge you can be sure.

The downside this all brings though is a dose of music snobbery; an arrogance and hot headedness among its tireless staff. Customer service here is in a league of its own. Don’t try and talk about music, your music taste is invariably shit; don’t walk in laughing or talking too loudly with your friends (preferably you won’t have any friends); don’t try and clarify an answer or ask another question, and lastly, don’t request something such as, say, a carrier bag for your purchase, or something in one of the cabinets, because passive aggressiveness will invariably follow. When I walked in once and asked if I could get a combined discount on two records, I was met with a gruff ‘No’, from the man who has, although he might not know it, been serving me at that counter for nearly 10 years. “There is absolutely no negotiation on the price. The price is the price and that’s it” Ok fine. But why? “To avoid any confusion”. That was the end of that mystifying encounter. Once, I asked if they ever had in any Beatles Anthology on vinyl. ‘No’, was the response. "There wasn’t much call for vinyl in the 90s." End of conversation.

This aspect of the stores, which is unfortunate if you view extreme record buyers’ fetishisation as a slight case of ‘wood for the trees’ as I do, has even courted official recognition. Time Out in 2007 awarded its Most Unhelpful Shop Staff award (across all retail sectors, bear in mind) to the Music and Video Exchange. Its comment, in full, read as follows:

“The movie ‘High Fidelity’ won praise for Jack Black’s accurate portrayal of an obnoxious record store employee making customers jump through hoops to justify their own purchases. MVE makes this look like silver service on the Orient Express; staff here seem to delight in making the simple act of buying a record a baffling trial akin to crossing the Bridge of Death in ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’, with Anne Robinson asking the questions. It’s easy to understand their need to express their superiority – prospective employees have to pass a written music test before they’re considered for employment – but surely this attitude can’t be good for business.”

There you have it. As a result, I fully believe there are MVE shoppers out there who have frequented it for decades and are dedicated even emotionally to it, but have never received so much as a ‘hello’ from the staff. In an ironic sort of way, the fact that it continues to survive with such brazenly shit customer service is testament to the powerful enigmatic depths of its stock. If you want that post-punk 7” import that only you give care for, but don’t want to pay Ebay prices, then MVE is the only place it’s worth going to in search of it. And when you find it, there is no doubt you will be jumping for joy, as I sometimes do, and rush over to that counter.

Overall, my decision that day was pretty big. Two weeks or so later my friends and I went again, and then every fortnight or so for the next three years. I now go every week if I can, and rather than merely the bargain rock and pop CD section catching my eye, I am drawn across the shop like a skilled craftsman tending to his weathered tool-kit: from bargain vinyl, to the £1 CD section, to rare 7”, the soul store, and spoken word records upstairs. I have not yet mustered enough fortitude for the ‘soul basement’, which is where records go to die). It is very sad, however, that the classical music store has now shut down. I hope it is not a sign of things to come.

So, so ends my dedication to Notting Hill- my favourite place. I am aware people who are similarly fond of the MVE may have some comments about it, so please do post them below or message me on twitter @grapevinesound if you feel like sharing.

All pictures courtesy of the internet except pricing stickers.

LOCKAH - THE SOUR DRINK FROM THE OCEAN

I was recently perusing Pitchfork’s new tracks section and stumbled upon something I have been listening to non-stop since last week: ‘The Sour Drink From The Ocean’ by an up and coming Aberdeen-based producer called Lockah. So much am I enjoying this song in fact (and repeatedly playing it at work), that I sought it out on my phone via the Soundcloud app just so I could finally unlock its potential for travelling listening on the way to and from work. Yes, I can spot potential for a joyous strutting stomper a mile off.

He just signed to the Mad Decent imprint, Jeffree’s, to release an EP. This has an aweeesome title. Wait for it…..When U Stop Feeling Like A Weirdo & Become A Threat. If that isn’t a bad-ass title for a record, I don’t know what is.

Anyway, check this guy out. Reminiscent of the tight sampling (any idea of the sample?) yet soulful result of Star Slinger, I think this pulsing oblivion of sound signposts Lockah as an interesting new talent. 'The Sour Drink From The Ocean' has already had 20,000 hits on Soundcloud in less than two weeks and was featured on BBC Introducing in Scotland on Ally McCrae's Radio 1 show tonight. 

FRIENDS - MANIFEST!

Stream the album here courtesy of The Guardian

Well this is quite simply the album I’ve been waiting for. Samantha Urbani’s uber-cool Friends finally release their debut album this Jubilee bank holiday Monday- well done Lucky Number, we knew your Britishness would be good for something- to the full spangliness of stars in the Sunday media supplements and lengthy blogger comment (see….what you’re reading). For some reason it seems like aeons since second single ‘I’m His Girl’ was first released (although it’s actually only eight months ago), but perhaps that’s because a lot has changed for that band who, on playing their first UK concertback in October 2011, had played only a handful of gigs in local Brooklyn venues and had barely formed long enough for their story about the band’s name to be more than a recent recollection. But, since then, ‘I’m His Girl’, freely sold on 7”at that gig days before release, flew off the shelves, and return gigs at The Lexington and XOYO this February sold out. The latter gig was filmed for Youtube, and despite being a little bit over-played for the cameras, it helped confirm the band’s joyous live reputation. Somehow, it feels as though the Brooklynites couldn’t get this album out soon enough. Urbani’s evident enthusiasm charmed many and irritated a few, but a bigger, 1000 strong throng headed to the seriously big venue, London’s Scala on 9 May, her band beating their headline capacity best by selling it out. Today (literally-ish), they eat swordfish with The Independent. Things just got serious.

So now that Manifest! aptly manifests on the horizon, the album delivers a topical title brimming with potential. We start at the chronological germination, first release ‘Friend Crush’, which is reassuringly at the top of the bill. Its breezy, stomping off-kilter pop was one of the best singles of last year in my view (we featured it hereski). Its younger boobier ‘I’m His Girl’ cousin is here too, but unfortunately not its lesser-boobier but even funkier sister, Ghost Town DJs cover ‘My Boo’. Are these the highlights of the now filled out repertoire? The Guardian seems tothink so, yes.

But that is not to say that it’s so. ‘Sorry’s percussive rhythm rivals ‘Feelin Dank’. Tropical touches and over-done chants make this a little song you can listen to over and over again, that belies its carefree triviality. But perhaps the biggest argument for Friends with this material is ‘A Thing Like This’. When Urbani thrashed this out at the Hoxton Square Bar & Kitchen in October, where literally no one in the audience would have heard this song, my friend and I only looked at each other in knowing excitement: we knew we had just found a fucking awesome band. It’s one of those rare moments. The crowd injected with a sort of groovilicious liquid, girls started dancing, boys watched them dancing as they started dancing themselves, and secretly hoped Urbani would give them a cheeky sensual pout. This sort of carefree stuff doesn’t usually happen at gigs for cool people in London. So, with its translation to record, it should, if I was Lucky Number, have been Friends’ first single on/around the album’s release by virtue of it being radio-friendly (and representative) best foot forward. Sweet as a button, tough as a nut, it slips and slides with a synth-heavy, bass-heavy arrangement that epitomises their sound. Urbani sighs sensually, swoons delicately and confidently. She’s sexy again. And you can hear it. And the band is sexy too.  

‘A Light’ is another funky number. One of the more serious groovers, crumply lo-fi production gives Urbani a dampened touch, giving way to eminently danceable ‘Ideas on Ghosts’. That is three seriously danceable tracks in a row by the way, in case I should have made that clear. If that level of result makes Friends more self-conscious trying-too-hard than disconnected whatever dance-groove effortless tropical-pop, then so be it. The fact that this album isn’t rougher around the edges shouldn’t be held against it. ‘Ruins’ is clearly the attempt at off the beaten track, rocky rebelliousness, and really it doesn’t quite work. But fortunately, the band have stuck to what they know best: much like their American sitcom namesake, using every living moment to dance (ok, maybe not that bit) and have fun. Live favourite and closer, Swedish sung ‘Va Fan Gor Du’ retains its immediacy and swings around with the half-drunk stupor you just wanted from it. Finally ‘Mind Control’ wades in to pull down the curtain.

There are small signs that Friends’ luminous ascent from formation to fringe-of-the-mainstream may be gently stabilising. The band play 500-capacity Dingwalls in a couple of days, not a venue comparable to with the Scala, and Matthew Molnar, on bass and keyboards- although I don’t want to say it- has looked more than a little tired or bored (well....both) at recent gigs, perhaps due to the amount of touring. But, to judge longevity on these things would be ridiculous. I’m going to see Friends play Rough Trade East on Monday 4 June when this album is released. Because for all Manifest’s sophisticated fun, they retain the looseness on record to keep me intrigued; the hooks to keep me horribly hooked. And will the band continue to jostle for their ‘tropical pop’ DIY ethic to be seen and heard? As long as they’re having fun, you can be sure they will.

RIPPLE - I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS, BUT IT SURE IS FUNKY

Trying to pick a compilation to buy on vinyl is a bit of a minefield because there are so damn many. There are old ones, new ones, re-issued ones, Readers’ Digest ones- that I bought once for 10p and never will again- and obscure ones.

I will usually flick through a few, before making a value judgment based on the tracks, the cover (sorry, you rational bastards) and the blurb on the sleeve (again). With compilations of stuff I don’t know, the last point in particular can be very persuasive. If the blurb says something really imaginative such as, for instance, suggesting the album will put me on the streets of 1970s Harlem or Chicago, or in a dizzying disco club, or bring back memories of the days of old (none of which I actually experienced) I’m usually there.

So it was with great enthusiasm that I purchased Living in The Streets, a compilation with the tagline ‘wah wah jazz, funky soul, and other dirty grooves’ in Sister Ray in London last week, and more or less whacked it on minutes after coming back home. The blurb on the back had waxed lyrical – very successfully might I add – about what one might be imagining listening to this compilation….

“ ‘Living in The Streets’ taps into that era [when jazz clubs were on every corner], and lets you know what it felt like musically to walk from street corner to bar with the hot air billowing up from the subway grills…”

Nice.

“The radios in the cars adjacent to you are blaring out the urban station WE-KOOL and the heavy sensual voice of Isaac Hayes forcefully pleading his woman to ‘Use Me’ has all the right shivers running down your spine.”

Ah, sweet.

“Entering the bar you rapidly order a beer, greedily gulping down the first few mouthfuls of the frothy potion as you head to the jukebox, add some money and make your choices- they flow out one by one- the sweet soul of Tammi Lynn and uplifting funk of Spanky Wilson- leaving you feeling elated and along with the beer refreshed and ready once more to face the day.”  

    

‘I Don’t Know What It Is But It Sure Is Funky’ epitomises this album, and as you can imagine it sure is funky: Wall-to-wall stomping beats, the most bad-ass, awesome feel-good call and response chant I’ve ever heard and this lovely funky vibe that only a bright sunny day can throw up. And there’s very few of them in England. The description for this section read as follows:

“Heading out of Jimmy’s, it’s across the street to a basement that hasn’t even got a name, but where you know that the DJ will be laying down some seriously good tunes – Ripple, Preston Epps or Idris Mohammad – guys that know where to find the groove.”

Strutting into Music and Video Exchange in Notting Hill yesterday, mojo in full flow and The Fatback Band soundtracking my head, I asked the perhaps 40 year old attendant: “Hey boy, you got that new Ripple seven, 'That sure is Funky’?” After throwing me off by wrongly correcting the song title (he didn’t know what it was but it sure was funky, he could have said), he looked at me, faintly disgusted (maybe because I’m white and so was he….and he’s about 40, and I’m 23…and this is not the 1970s, unfortunately) by whipping off my pimp hat and telling me I wouldn’t find it and that Ripple come in sometimes, but only on compilations. 

I could “catch a cab across town to see your girl” at this point, but instead I just skulked off.  

HOLY OTHER - TOUCH

Nestling in the middle of the EP, ‘Touch’ is arguably the entry point for those uninitiated with Holy Other. The EP as a whole (With U) is terminally austere and disconnected, but the tension is just marginally slackened on ‘Touch’, which turns a turgid sludge into fantastical, inverted onanism with careful manipulations. The fine line between hideousness and beauty, excitement and fear, ecstacy and depression, is briefly explored and traversed here.  

 ‘Touch’s main tension comes from its reticence. It refuses to give itself away, and only concedes short breaths and rhythmic interludes. But when they hit...well.....The track layers effects over a repeated vocal phrase. Initially, only two notes of inconspicuous synth will slip in, followed shortly by a tinny drum effect you might find on a really shitty 80s keyboard.  The pithy hiccup juxtaposes with deep bass. As the vocal samples build and the clicks’ marauding mischief reach a gentle and muffled climax, the track peaks, gently slowing, like a roller-coaster reaching the pinnacle, holding, balancing, quietly tipping and then hitting a point of no return, where it viscerally disappears into mayhem. It plunges for seconds, dispersing bass and waves and waves of sound. 

ESG - Dance

Happy Wednesday people! We are half way through the week! Here's a bit of ESG. Mega awesome New York band who released this song 'Dance' on their album Come Away with ESG in 1983. They mashed together everything from hip-hop to disco with their pulsating rhythms, and influenced many too-cool-for-school artists I haven't heard of...but I know Friends are often referred to alongside them...

Michael Kiwanuka - Home Again

Being the winner of BBC’s Sound of 2012 comes with some stresses. The champion of a panel of music experts naturally draws huge industry attention, especially in recent years when the competition has acquired a sort of officialdom, and analysis, expectation and counter-analysis ensue in near-molecular detail. Industry hopes revolve to a certain degree I feel, around the idea that the champion will bring music sales up, and cultivate a new collective confidence in mainstream music.

 History has shown there are two generalised ‘camps’ available for such labelled messiahs to fall into. They can either rise above the circus and keep on like nothing has happened (which it hasn’t) (Adele in 2008, Arctic Monkeys’ Mercury Music Prize in 2006): GOOD. Or spin into an over-exposure nightmare, fight media radiation poisoning, and finally supernova: BAD (The Bravery, 2005 and Little Boots 2009). Nuff said. Well it isn’t quite as clear as that, but evidently the award is no Willy Wonka ticket, self-fulfilling prophecy for glory and recognition.

Anyway, if you’re a cynic, the fact Kiwanuka won the BBC poll in 2012 is as big a revelation as PJ Harvey taking the Mercury Prize for Let England Shake (not a very big one). Putting aside his voice and songwriting- which are probably the real reasons why he won, let’s be fair folks- his warm, folksy image and familiar sound fitted perfectly with the anxious public mood. Our country is facing financial hardship in case you didn’t know; we are all suffering socially, and we want an easier time, back when things made sense. So cue the present day Bill Withers slash Otis Redding, slash nice guy with a nice voice wearing a nice wooly jumper. Aw. If that deconstruction sounds quite close to home, The Observer took similar cues from the artwork, for its inspiration: “it desperately wants to be a 33rpm vinyl record with a faded sleeve that first entered thesecond-hand record market around 1973…” Yeah, so 1973 wasn’t all roses. But that needle hitting the worn out vinyl is powerful and iconic. The nation inhales its sound and smell wistfully, into its deepest recesses at times of worry. 

Yet the guy really is good. Contemporary scepticism shouldn’t detract from what a marvellous voice Kiwanuka has, and so gentle and nuanced. He writes with a composed maturity that is wise beyond his mid-twenties years too. *….Scratchy beardy….* It can be beautiful. It is often remarkably precocious. So who cares if Kiwanuka is what we want? Let us have him!

It was with the fanfare of 2012’s bestowed honour that debut LP Home Again was ushered in on 12^th March on Polydor (part of Universal Music). On the day, Kiwanuka played a low key set at Rough Trade East (review), London, his home taaan. Back in November 2011, he was first introduced to mainstream audiences on BBC’s Later with…Jools Holland, arguably the perfect medium for his music, with its liberal, intelligentsia-leaning mid-thirties fan base. The wonderful performance was followed by a sold-out live UK tour, and the limited numbers ‘Tell Me A Tale’ EP quickly became hot property. ‘Tell Me A Tale’ and ‘I’m Getting Ready’, which he performed on Jools, became the album’s two openers. Following generally favourable live press, ( although some note he is quite the better performer without accompanying musicians), Kiwanuka will take to the road, touring Europe, before playing UK festivals at home and abroad.  

So what about the album? Is it much cop? Well the good news is Home Again is easy to get a grip on. Its melodies are soft, warm and the arrangements bristle with familiar flourishes of jazz, folk and soul. You won’t take much adjusting, and your mum can sit comfortably in the next room (or with you even). But, as much as Kiwanuka should be nailing that whole mature, soulful  tenderness thing, which he does at times, something is missing. Sometimes, the band’s accompaniment makes a steady groove languid, rather than heartfelt; a bit glazed, rather than reflective; such as ‘Bones’, in which the band arrangement makes it sound like it should be sung by Amy Winehouse a la 50s supper club style, not a straight-talking guy in a wool jumper muddling his way through. Compare the recording with the version you can hear live at the Union Chapel, and you can see, easily and plainly, that Kiwanuka draws a better solitary, impassioned figure, guitar casually slung around his front, than a sassy know-it-all with sophisticated backing. I wouldn’t direct that possible shortcoming at Kiwanuka but it is an observation I would make, and it has the potential to breed disappointment, or at least, confusion.  This style sits in stark contrast to ‘I’m Getting Ready’, perhaps the album’s most multi-faceted track, with its bare and simple arrangement. It just shows how brilliant Kiwanuka is as a talent, that he is more captivating alone.

The latter part of the album contains some aesthetically wonderful accoutrements to the lounge style (‘Always Waiting’ notably, and ‘Any Day Will Do Fine’), but it’s noticeably more coffee shop pleasantries than tender momentum. Closer ‘Worry Walks Beside Me’ is an enjoyable ballad laced with troubling minor chords, but somehow you want Kiwanuka to be leading this homage to fear and worry, not his band, and for some of the smooth edges of the album's rich, oaky construction to be chipped away a bit, with the imperfections but reality of Kiwanuka’s own personality, whatever that might be.    

Overall, Home Again is a mixed prospect. To this novice’s ears, the songs you’ve already heard might be the best (‘Tell Me A Tale’, ‘I’m Getting Ready’ and ‘Home Again’) but there’s no doubt they are great. Additionally, ‘I’ll Get Along’ is another blitz of retro pop equal to those tracks. Yet, much of the rest sounds a little bit too much like an album going through the motions, hitting all the right references for vintage Seventies soul, from jazz flute to rich marinated verses, but for the personal touch that executes a great record. Home Again was charged with lofty things, but Withers’ Still Bill it most certainly is not.

On the upside, the label should realise what a prodigious talent Kiwanuka is and perhaps cut him some slack for a freer reign in the production process of his next album. Home Again did not conjure rave critical responses, and its commercial fate is unknown, but the strength of the appeal of an artist like Kiwanuka should not make numbers a problem for record bosses now. I don’t know what impact the artist had on the arrangements here but instincts tell me it would be surprising if Kiwanuka, with his gentle vocal style and immediate emotional proximity to the listener when alone, doesn't prefer little accompaniment; the maximum of, say, bass, a second guitar and brush drums.   

             

First On Mix #005 NZCA/LINES

First On Mix #005: NZCA/Lines by Diy on Mixcloud

A mix for This is Fake DIY accompanied by an exclusive interview. I like the dude's mixtapes although that section has now disappeared from his website and unfortunately I don't have a tracklist. I DO know though that two of the bestest tracks were a Boards of Canada remix of Midnight Star's Midas Touch, Kelis' Good Stuff and Sa-Ra Creative Partners' Goldmine. Top toons.

This is just as good though, if not better : )

NZCA/LINES - Compass Points

Ok so I’m gonna be honest I was a little disappointed with NCZA/Lines’ album, especially after the awesome awesome track ‘Compass Points’ above. Michael Lovett is clearly an intriguing talent, though.


You can download a FREE copy of 'Okinawa Channels' on the website.  

James Carr - A Man Needs A Woman

A common misconception about alternative music is that people buy into it because they want to be different. More specifically, they want to be seen to be different. Music charts because it is ‘better’- by what objective measure I don’t know- and consequently, those who revel in non-chart music must be making an effort to do so. This is why it’s very easy to bash people who don’t like Lady Gaga, have an allergy to Adele or recoil at Rihanna.

I don’t believe in an objective standard of music, and certainly not once I met people who got a kick out of mad atonal music or twenty minutes of screaming. The reality is that we get turned on by different things. Music is after all an emotional experience, and the way you might be hooked is unique to you. It's a mystery in some ways. Sometimes it’s even simply a memory that ties a certain band or genre up with nostalgia that draws you in. For me, I don’t hear the ultra-simple ‘Tell Me Why’ by The Beatles and think ‘my god, this sounds like a nursery rhyme’. I think ‘I’m in the early 90s again. And I can smell the year. And I can see the old wallpaper on the living room walls.’ Had The Gladiators’ reggae sermon ‘Chatty Chatty Mouth’ been played to me when I was a kid like one of my good friends, no doubt its tune would be resonating deep in my belly instead. (So if you're one of these people who wants your kids to have a good music taste- firstly, god help you- and secondly, play them shit).

A second misconception is that non-chart music is ‘weird’. Some people I know are reluctant to listen to new things even though they love what they like and even that they heard everything for the first time once, so why not try something else? It’s silly to say 'if it's good, I've already heard it', notwithstanding the fact that even chart music is constantly changing week by week.

A music buff’s feeling is usually the opposite: there is so much more out there that you want to actively seek it out. It’s far more empowering and positive approach. Just as with the above misconception, the internet has made it clear that just because you haven’t seen an advert for it on the tube, doesn’t mean it will be ultra-left field. Not only does the above point apply here regarding one’s individual idiosyncratic and unpredictable taste, but if you are only concerned with commercial success as a measure of interest, every successful chart artist went through a period of anonymity at some stage. If you think that those without many likes on their facebook page aren’t worth your time therefore, remember that it is very often because they haven't yet been discovered. One day you might hear them on Radio 1. In my experience, people are reluctant to hear an apparently soppy band called Bon Iver when he’s an unknown quantity, or ‘this great new Brooklyn band called Friends’ when they’re small, but once word-of-mouth and radio play accelerates, it’s like you’re recommending a different band altogether. People are wary of the pub, the support act and the boutique festival, as harbingers of inaccessible music. But sooner or later if you're recommending things people will enjoy, they will be pleased to know you told them.

This has already been a very long post, but I want to move on to my featured artist who I think illustrates wonderfully the above ideas. Not many people have heard of James Carr. He’s almost a nobody, even though he had a couple of charting singles in the late 60s. However among southern blues and soul enthusiasts his album A Man Needs a Woman is considered a timeless great. He’s up there with Marvin and Aretha. He is considered one of the greatest soul artists of all time.

When I went into the record store Intoxica in London to buy this (yes, I am only in my early 20s but I still buy records), I learnt it was re-released in 2003 on Kent Soul, part of Ace Records, which has had artists as disparate as The Impressions (Curtis Mayfield’s original band), Joan Baez and speed metal giants Motorhead on its label-roster. A Carr record arriving at the counter woke the assistant.

A Man Needs A Woman is pretty much back-to-back gospel-inspired soul and longing, romantic lyrics. Carr has a raw, commanding voice, not dissimilar to Otis’. On ‘Life Turned Her That Way’ he sings in a typically personal style about a reason for a woman’s bitterness and on ‘A Losing Game’ he swoons over a shit-hot blues riff. It’s ballsy and passionate; he grabs your attention. Taken together, the full 14 tracks are an example of music that is a) considered a niche concern; b) very very underpublicised; and c) simply a straight awesome pop record, no different from any well known Motown or Stax artist, but possibly ‘better’ if you like that sort of thing. The original label Goldwax label remains the preserve of those who know.....or, those open to finding out.

See below to stream from youtube. I hope you enjoy- and please remember kids that if you don’t listen to it, you’ll never know what you might be missing.

1. A Man Needs A Woman

2. Stronger Than Love

3. More Love

4. You Didn't Know It But You Had Me

5. A Woman Is A Man's Best Friend

6. I'm A Fool For You

7. Life Turned Her That Way

8. I'm Gonna Send You Back To Georgia

9. The Dark End Of The Street

10. I Sowed Love And Reaped A Heartache

11. You've Got My Mind Messed Up

12. A Losing Game

13. A Message To Young Lovers

14. Let It Happen

Eluvium - Copia

I should say from the off that Copia effectively sounds like nothing. Its genius is that it is a mirror, reflecting back on to you what is projected on to it. But, in and of itself, it is…well………..nothing. And it is, quite possibly, my favourite album ever.

When I first heard this record, in my dorm room at university in 2007, it took me so far in to my own head that I couldn’t tell if I was creating the next bars to the song or it was a pre-made record. It felt as if I was orchestrating music inside my own mind. That it was organic, human, and inseparable from me. (CUE DiS' REVIEW OF THIS RECORD.)

Matthew Robert Cooper wrote Copia under his moniker- ‘Eluvium’. It is twelve tracks long, around 60 minutes and instrumental. It is a stew of solemn strings, dulled horns and occasionally a gentle piano chord. There’s really very little else. And unlike Explosions in the Sky, there is no dominant emotion. It is faceless. It isn’t tiring and it isn’t sleep-inducing. It's just blank. Listening to this record might therefore induce some kind of mild temporary mental paralysis; a dissociative numbness. It is either a brief escape, a pointless vacuum or a moment of exquisite clarity that charges into your conscious mind when the album does its thing.

As epically reminiscent of purgatory as this record is, I have perhaps listened to it more than any other in the last five years. That such a title should be held by such an inoffensive record is not surprising. I don’t want to listen to something that gets intrusive over and over again, or predictable. But I want something that is the alternative music fan’s version of sorbet. I want something that is multi-faceted, pleasant and light. I have slotted this artist into so many playlists, sandwiched between songs of differing genres (or courses, to continue the meal analogy) that I don't know if it's a compliment or suggestion of epic blandness. Between Vanilla Ice, Bombay Bicycle Club, The Upsetters, Prince, Star Slinger, The Velvet Underground: whatever. I just listen to it loads. And rarely get bored, or feel it has nothing left to give.

Anyway, to me, this is the universal LP. I have listened to it perhaps once or twice a week every week for five years (and am now on a twelve step dependency programme) and it is very close to my heart. If there is one record I could recommend to everybody, it would, in fact, be this. Not Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours; not a biggest selling album of the last 10 years like a Lady Gaga record; not Susan Boyle. I would give you a record that you would pick something up no matter who you are or what your musical persuasion (maybe you don’t even have one) and I would tell you to just listen to it. Something that sounds universal. And, such a thing, that can be all things to all people, is, simultaneously (and confusingly), nothing, to nobody. This is a tantalising and devastating juxtaposition to me. Unity and loneliness are prisms for the very trials of life.

Ambient is easy to do, but it is hard to do this well. Copia is almost unnervingly synchronised with something human. It drifts with effortless calm; a natural, almost earthly serenity. The chords on an organ will change just as your mind takes a pause; the grandiose airiness of ‘Indoor Swimming at a Space Station’ reminds you of a feeling that you are, well……indoor swimming at a space station, and ‘Prelude for Time Feelers’ floats above you, with a blinding, almost religious gaze. Forever patient; forever willing; forever still.

It’s easy to listen through in one listen, and I recommend paying attention to the longer tracks like ‘Repose in Blue’, ‘Indoor Swimming…’ and ‘Ostinato’, that you can really get into. I would also say it’s best listened to with headphones.

This album is not like other contemporary ambient records, and Matthew Robert Cooper is not like other contemporary ambient artists. While others use either melody or atmosphere (or a combination of both) as a weapon to steer you to feel certain things or draw energy at certain points, Eluvium eradicates all self-awareness to achieve lightness and room for relaxation. It is like taking a deep, deep breath. In the hardest of times, in the complexity and chaos of life, Copia brings total stillness. Time almost stops, when I hear this record.

Philco Fiction review - Live @ The Lexington, London, 26 January 2012

I featured Philco Fiction a few months ago on this blog, and last night they played their first gig in London since their debut released in Norway. It was a great experience. I had heard that they were good live and they didn’t disappoint. The trio play a brand of electro pop that is something like The Knife covering every genre under the sun. Folk is on the record (‘Take it Personal’), as is experimental Bjork-type stuff and just some simply brilliant hook-driven tunes. What’s so exciting about them though is that they do their own thing. Lyrically, they they're intelligent and silly, and they have a humour and self-effacingness that doesn't take anything too damn seriously.

On the night they hit it. Taking the stage wearing an eye-catching slanted hat, Turid Alida Solberg did this upper-bodydis.loc.a.ting.shoulderdance.thing. Her singing is confident and outward looking. She is also really quite beautiful...which made me want to go to Norway a bit.

This album is a must buy when it comes out in the UK. The Norwegian release on Brilliance Records is stupidly difficult to find and you basically have to import it from Norway at present (not fun with exchange rate and shipping costs), so kudos to anyone that bought it at the gig (although if you bought vinyl, there’s no mp3 despite the claim on the sleeve, unless I'm completely retarded). In fact, I now think you can’t even stream this album online! It was taken down from Ja Ja Ja.

Radio 1 recently played ‘Portrait of Silence’, and there was a bloke there who said he had introduced Philco to Huw Stephens. So good work! If you saw the show, there’s plenty more tunes where that came from.

Set went something like...

Finally
Help!
The Youth
The City
Too Close
Portrait of Silence

Can't remember it now exactly, so apologies if it's wrong. Also if anyone can get a me digital download for the vinyl I'll be your friend!

Fanzine - Roman Holiday

Fanzine hail from London and make scuzzy, lo-fi rock. We haven’t heard this kind of stuff in a while. 'Roman Holiday' reminds me of Weezer, a stonier Sum 41, and recent fellow London bands to cause a bit of a fuss, Mazes (see here) and The History of Apple Pie. It’s awesome. Out now on Fat Possum.

Vondelpark- nyc stuff and nyc bags

I remember feeling pretty indifferent when first introduced to the XX back in 2009. (I know, is it blogger sacrilege to say that now?) However I realise the debut's enormous impact. That album took simple, sparse, emotionless dance beats, and ordered them in such a way when combined with vocals that they could conjour deep emotion. A neutral beat with gentle infusions of R&B created a feeling that was on the one hand deeply loving, compassionate and sensitive and on the other alone, detached and bleak. Like The Weeknd, with whom comparisons have been quite forthcoming from House of Balloons onwards, the XX’s minimalism had a stony profundity. Black American R&B titans famed for their rich production (Aaliyah, R Kelly, D’Angelo, Destiny’s Child) have since been spotlighted, heralded by certain artists as marvels, and then with the precision and detachment of a surgeon’s knife, had their hearts teased out, distilled and dripped into arid digital concoctions, or ones primarily composed of silence or echoing clacks. The XX’s debut was a key moment. It magicked depth out of bareness. It took R&B’s emotion and made it alone and monochrome.

Vondelpark are one of many artists striking that chord: let’s call it the Higgs-Depression. They are, according to the BBC’s review, “How to Dress Well with a slightly superior budget [insert: that’s still bugger all]; RnB for heartbroken bloggers more likely to send a loved-one files than flowers.” It’s probably true. The Guardian’s New Band of the Day (No 1,039- June 2011) considered that if you had to listen to constant grim music or constant happy music for the rest of your life, they would choose the former if it meant listening to Vondelpark. (I’d choose it anyway. After all isn't Barney & Friends used to torture hostages in Guantanamo Bay?) Yeah, all the elements of that disconnected yet soulful compound reveal themselves: Feedback-layered production, barely discernable vocals and loose hums that drift through each track of their second EP. Called nyc stuff and nyc bags, even the title hints at lethargy.

From three young Surrey boys, nyc stuff and nyc bags is the follow on from debut Sauna (2010), and more radiant. Its songs are alike: they’re all cyclical and quasi-hypnotic, which creates this extreme XX-like melancholia. R&S noticed it- the label behind James Blake- and released it. “TV” loops a ringing guitar lick over echoing voices, and snippets from porn (or at least I think it’s porn). “Hipbone”, a defeated mire, is wonderfully representative of the soul v. disconnection juxtaposition. The push and pull of its feeling is complicated; its merry dance is pure anxiety. Muted, hushed, it is more likely to creep up on you than the no holds barred staring of How to Dress Well. “Camels” gently calms and drags you into a numb universe, with similar results.

All are of equal merit in my view, and are like a controlled explosion taking place in a sound-proofed room. Vondelpark are the muffled alarm that gently triggers suppressed distress. In my view though the most interesting track is "Outro for nyc", which closes the EP. Its emotional dance is as tender as the wind that shakes the barley. Vocal washes mix with glassy guitars and a funky dance beat to hit a cold, lost, isolated chord that makes depression by the hand of freshly laundered pillows.

Ultimately I think Vondelpark could be a critical success, even if, due to their 'sadder' sound, they might be less conventionally appealing to a non-indie audience than even the XX. If you want a track from the first EP, try opener "California Analog Dream", and be sure to look out for them. nyc stuff and nyc bags is out now on R&S (buy it here (UK) or here (US)).