#The throes of musicianship

[nikidanger]

There's nothing more humbling

Than humiliating yourself by fucking ALL THE WAY up on stage in front of several dozen people in a setting that's intimate enough for EVERYONE to notice.

But. There's also nothing more motivating than knowing that despite an imperfect show, you're still that bitch.

[bromodideuterio]

A Love Letter to King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

AKA: Why “The Dripping Tap” is a musical flex, and why we should pay attention

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard is a prolific rock band from Australia, and I use the word “rock” as an umbrella term here. Realistically, this band experiments with psych rock, stoner rock, doom metal, thrash metal, EDM, acoustic folky stuff, funk, and even southern blues rock. KG is a musical chameleon.

Omnium Gatherum was the band’s reunion after the throes of covid, when they could finally record together in the same space again. And the album opens with one of the band’s strongest works to date, “The Dripping Tap”.

This song is 18 minutes long, and stays one note for nearly its entire runtime. Yet, this song shows listeners that chordal complexity nor lyrical prowess is the most important thing in musicianship.

Texture goes a long way in music, and The Dripping Tap is over abundant in texture. The song remains on a constant D major chord for almost its entire runtime, yet the jam band style riffing from Stu and Cook, combined with the insane harmonica from Ambrose and Cavs’ drumming makes for a song that will scratch your brain in the best of ways.

The song itself is simple on paper. Intro, jam, recap, jam, recap, jam, long bridge, then recap again. But the complexity of melodic transportation is what makes this something special.

I have been an Gizz fan for many years now, but every time I listen to The Dripping Tap makes me realize once again what kind of musical force we are experiencing firsthand as a community. These guys are going to be remembered among the likes of Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. I’m calling it now. The talent is there and the experimentation is even more present. These bogans push the boundaries of modern rock with every album, whether they are taking it seriously or just doing it for fun. And as an avid audience, we can clearly tell the difference, yet that difference doesn’t matter to us.

I love these guys and hope they can make it to 50 albums. It’s been an amazing ride up to now.

Give it a listen. I promise it’s worth the time.

[kalluun-patangaroa]

Suede: All That Glitters

England’s new Band of the Century hits a glam slam

Rolling Stone, May 27, 1993 

By Steven Daly 

Photo by Denis O’Regan

Brett Anderson puts his bare feet up on a Columbia Records conference table and rakes back his lank fringe. Suede’s gaunt frontman wonders why no one back in balmy London troubled to mention that he’d be arriving in New York on the heels of an early spring snowstorm. In the corner of the room, a pair of sodden moccasins pays mute testament to his climatic misjudgment.

As befits its neo-glam reputation, this month’s English Band of the Century travels with only carry-on luggage. Suede’s glamour, though, is of a distinctly seedy stripe. Anderson’s leather bomber jacket is peeling quite badly, and his black needle cords have seen better days, while bass player Mat Osman’s pin-stripe jacket, desert boots and suede appliqué shirt are equally unlikely to spawn a collection of designer rip-offs.

With its triptych of instantly classic singles – “The Drowners,” “Metal Mickey” and “Animal Nitrate” – Suede announced a changing of the guard in British music, powerfully confirming it with a debut album, Suede, of formidable grace and authority. Anderson’s sterling writing partnership with guitarist Bernard Butler lends much-needed gravitas to the singer’s arch vocal style, a pained cockney whine that recalls London pop lineage from the Small Faces and David Bowie through the Sex Pistols. If Suede has done anything to deserve the mark-down tag of glam, it has been introducing the post-acid-house generation to pelvic posturings.

The trajectory that dumped these threadbare dandies in New York has been a sharp one. Brett Anderson grew up in Haywards Heath, a glorified stoplight between London and Brighton, and after the standard-issue alienated adolescence he lit out for the bright lights of the capital with fellow Smiths buff Osman. They placed a small ad seeking a guitarist for their “eminently important band” and reeled in Butler, at 22 three years their junior, who was later joined by drummer Simon Gilbert.

The nascent Suede slogged around lowly London stages until its penchant for preening drama got the band members laughed out of town. They slunk off to spend the last half of 1991 in squalor, a siege mentality shrouding intense bouts of writing and rehearsal. “We started out with the idea that we wanted to be in a great band, but it was a while before the musicianship caught up,” Anderson now admits. “We began listening to classic songs like ‘A Day in the Life,’ more for their sense of elegance than anything specific in the chord structures.”

When Suede emerged, the turnaround was alarming: Melody Maker anointed it Best New Band of 1992 before one new song had been committed to vinyl. So strong was the avalanche of media that the band’s publicist garnered an industry award for “campaign of the year.” For once, though, the press hype has a toehold in reality.

“We’d have been birched on the streets of Bermondsey if people didn’t think we’d got it after that,” says Anderson. “But it was the new year, and people were getting bored. London was overrun by these shoegazing bands, and there was a feeling of ‘I’ve had enough of this. . . .’“

And sure enough, the nation was soon gripped in the throes of Suedemania. The band’s turn-on-a-dime dynamics not only counterpoint Anderson’s falsetto flights, they put a jut in his strut that provokes followers to hysterical displays of worship at live shows. So violent are these reactions that Suede has actually had to tone down its stagecraft of late.

“This group appeals to people who are isolated in some way,” says Osman of Suede’s dramatic rise. “Geographically or socially or sexually or fashion-wise.”

“Or biologically,” says Anderson with a laugh. “I think there’s a section of music lovers in Britain who are in certain dead-end situations who flock to certain sentiments in music. And I think for that to happen, the artist has to have felt them themselves. That’s probably where a lot of the Smiths comparisons came from. I think there’s a parallel to be drawn.

”One early Suede convert was in fact Morrisey himself, who sent the group perfumed regards before covering its stately, decadent anthem “My Insatiable One” (from the B side of Suede’s first EP, The Drowners) on his world tour. Like Manchester’s Nabob of Sob, Anderson has been the subject of intense sexual speculation. An oft-quoted – and much-regretted – remark about being a bisexual man without homosexual experience only furthered an impression given by lyrics slathered with NC-17 imagery, where a third person of transient gender nibbles freely at the whole carnal buffet; now he leers, “She’s a luvverly little numbah!” (from “Moving”) and now “we kiss in his room to a popular tune” (“The Drowners”). Before you can say, “It’s Pat!” this switch-hitter is imploring, “Have you ever tried it that way?” (“Pantomime Horse”).

“I think I’ve got scope as a writer, so not everything I write is completely autobiographical,” explains Anderson thoughtfully. “I feel vague when it comes to where I stand sexually; I don’t know what to say – I’m willing to be persuaded, whatever.”

In a climate clogged with infantile techno-novelty records and TV-marketed oldies, Suede has rushed through the British charts like a hormone shot – even if no one knows which type of hormones. As one of the most subversive stars ever to taste Top Ten action, Anderson’s seamy subconscious terrain bears greater resemblance to the world of, say, the Sixties playwright-provocateur Joe Orton than it does to the lazy lexicon of contemporary rock, with its calcified sentiments of indolence, infatuation or “rebellion.”

“My mind has always been much more encased in reality than that,” says Anderson. “And the reality that everyone knows involves a certain amount of sexual failure. Not everyone’s stomping ground is Venice Beach – I can’t think of anything more boring than Baywatch set to guitars, which is how a lot of music treats the idea of sex.

“Most music is lazy; it speaks in pop-speak, prodding your memory about things you’ve heard before,” Anderson adds. “I’ve never wanted to write like that. I wanted to do something with a bit of tension, look at things through different perspectives. It’s the Oscar Wilde thing of lying in the gutter and looking at the stars. Life has always been cinema to me, even when I’ve been sitting in the dole office. That’s the only way to do it sometimes.”

The following afternoon sees Suede visiting the influential alternative radio station WDRE in an office block in suburban Long Island. The band is, it seems, coming to terms with the New York weather. Six-and-a-half-foot Osman has scored some inexpensive socks at J. Chuckles, while Anderson has economically stuffed a plastic bag inside his shoes.

Suede might find America’s cultural climate a little harder to accommodate. Several U.S. record companies tend, bizarrely, to set their clocks by British hype (Suede’s reputed $500,000 Sony pact is unexceptional), as does a significant cohort of media Anglophiles. When the bicoastal greeting parties are over, however, things can get a little sticky. The freeways of the Midwest are littered with the bones of pale, snaggletoothed hopefuls who came to grief on America’s punishing concert circuit.

As Osman takes the Columbia promo man’s rental Ford Taurus for an unscheduled spin around the DRE parking lot, he muses. “We’re completely aware that we’re a bunch of insects over here compared with even Screaming Trees or Soul Asylum,” he says, “a horrific thought, but one we recognize.”

[surroundedbythesound]

Lady Stardust

JGC Wise

At the onset of my adolescence, my curiosities tended towards things that were considered anything but stereotypically male. I was intrigued by women’s fashion to the extent that on a few occasions I experimented with wearing dresses and makeup—all in relative secret, of course, lest I thrust myself into the throes of small-town scandal. With much prompting from friends and foes alike, I questioned my sexuality even though I knew in my heart of hearts that I was heterosexual.

The real question wasn’t about my orientation. It was about how I fit into a world that rejected deviation from traditional gender definitions (or immediately assumed that if you did deviate, it reflected your sexual orientation), and one that associated self-expression with gender identity. Beauty captivated me, and I so very much wanted to be beautiful without having to sacrifice being a man.

Then, in my sixteenth year, I heard David Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars for the first time. From the fade-in notes of the first track, I instantly fell in love with this bizarre story of a space alien glam-rocker who’d fallen to earth and dazzled the human race in its final five years of existence. And though I could write pages about the musicianship of the entire record, it was a song midway through called “Lady Stardust” that initiated a glacial shift in my comfort level with myself.

People stared at the makeup on his face

Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace

The boy in the bright blue jeans jumped up on the stage

And Lady Stardust sang his songs of darkness and disgrace

The song is actually a bit of a tongue-in-cheek jab at late glam-rocker Marc Bolan, a friend of Bowie’s, but at the time I understood it as a song about a young man inspired by an androgynous rock star who broke the rules about conventional beauty, gender, and sex. I imagined Lady Stardust not as a man dressed in women’s clothing, rather, as a man who challenged the notion of beauty by ignoring defined gender norms and transcending the limitations of labels. Lady Stardust didn’t fit into any mold, and that’s what was so appealing about him. He didn’t need a label or defined identity to be who he was, and neither did I. I could be unapologetically myself, whether that meant makeup and dresses or something else, and the true beauty lay in that.

I smiled sadly for a love I could not obey

The singer sees this beauty, is enamored of it, but still doesn’t quite know how to embody it. That was me. I understood what I could do, but I was afraid to do it. Yet hearing those words sung out, though they came into this world twenty years before I did, brought me comfort—I was not alone.

Bowie’s real-life androgyny also influenced me as I struggled with how to identify as a straight male who constantly straddled the line that people had drawn between being a man and being a woman. His willingness to be himself in a such a public way gave me the courage to dip my own toes in the waters of self-expression and the exploration of who I was, who I was becoming, and who I wanted to be.

A single night in October 1998 marked this change in myself. With The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars playing in the background, my high school girlfriend helped me dye my hair orange like Bowie had done for his extra-terrestrial persona. The end result was awful. My hair resembled a neon traffic cone more than the man who’d inspired me to take risks, challenge the status quo, and listen to my heart. I didn’t care, though. I went home to face my parents with equal parts trepidation and thrill. When my father saw my hair, he was, predictably, livid, but I—I was flying.

[avaliveradio]

1.14 Rock Mania Rising Stars with Jacqueline Jax

TODAY'S LIST OF WHAT'S FRESH COMING INTO A.V.A LIVE RADIO. THIS IS A ROCK GENRE SHOW SEGMENT FULL OF MUSIC THAT WILL INSPIRE YOU AND SEND YOU SEARCHING THE ARTISTS PAGES FOR MORE. EPISODE HOSTED BY JACQUELINE JAX.

Todays show is all about Rock and Roll. Get ready Rock fans to discover some new favorites.

Listen to the show : starts at 12 pm et on all broadcasting outlets including:

The Anchor Fm page: https://anchor.fm/ava-live-radio

iHeartRadio station page : https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-AVA-Live-Radio-Musi-29336730

The Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/2toX0f3dPmI8gmUSOKZicx

FEATURING:

Artist: Cwiredband

New Release: Angel Circuit Engaged

Genre: Resurrection Rock

Located in: : Berkeley Springs, WV - Nashville, TN

This song is... Angel Circuit Engaged was one of the first songs C Wired wrote. It’s a call to all to engage our Higher Selves our Angelic Circuitry. It’s very much needed now as we find ourselves challenged by lower energy forces that are in control of and are making our planet uninhabitable. We can change our world together by holding a shared vision of Peace and Abundance for ALL.

Warm feedback slithers through our speakers and takes hold of our attention as we enter the title track of Cwiredband’s new record Angel Circuit Engaged, their follow up to their much-buzzed Omega EP also released last year. Before long, that feedback is harnessed and transformed into a scorcher of a melody produced by a feverish lead guitar and punctuated with the pummeling of a massive drum kit” – Don McCloskey – Gas House Radio

The music we are creating is... Resurrection Rock. The term came from one of the reviewers of our music. When something is resurrected it still retains common themes from the previous form but has morphed into something different. C Wired’s Spiritual advisor implanted a seed idea inside him to create “Genre less music”. What Cwiredband is all 

Right now we are... Working on our next EP. C Wired has more than enough material to record a full-length album, but both he and producer Addison Smith are really comfortable with more frequent releasees every 3-6 months utilizing the 6 song EP format. It’s more in tune with the way we consume and listen to music today anyways. Most people are not taking the time to listen to an entire album. They select the one or two songs they like and add them to their playlist. Working on getting booked for European and US based tours, festivals, etc.

LINKS:  https://open.spotify.com/track/7rOlHR2PjA6FoeoJoZGzUQ?si=OW_38dP8QNSjTFV89C-pwQ https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/cwiredband/1395435754 https://www.instagram.com/c_wired https://www.facebook.com/cwiredband

Artist: BlindSide Thunder New Release: My Baby Loves to Dance

Genre: Rock, Blues, Hard Rock

Located in: : Tampa, FL

This song is about girls. It's rock n roll.

The music we are creating is... fun and upbeat. We aren't here to make any political or social statements. We're having a great time and so should you. Life presents enough stress and discord, music should not add to it. If our music offends you, we're not sorry. Move along, please. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZ9evqOAuFs

Right now we are... BST is very excited right now. It's a great time to be an independent artist. We have a handful of new videos being produced, and we're working on a deal for distribution into the Asian markets.

LINKS:  www.facebook.com/BlindSideTHunderOfficial www.twitter.com/BlindSideT www.blindsidethunder.com www.instagram.com/BlindSideThunderOfficial https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/blindside-thunder/id577701131 http://www.reverbnation.com/BlindSideRI

Artist: Jac Dalton

New Release: I CAN ALMOST TASTE THE RAIN

Genre: Melodic Rock

Located in: : Adelaide, South Australia This song is... My roots and wings stem from a family dynamic best summed up this way: whenever we camped as kids, none of us were allowed to pack the car to go home until our own campsite was spotless, as well as those on either side. Music to me has never been about applause and recognition, but instead embracing the opportunity to leave audiences a little bit better for the time shared on both sides of the stage. Those same sentiments translate presently into a project not merely for stage, but in consideration of the needs of an entire Nation. My chosen home of Australia is presently in the throes of the worst drought in over a century, and while there are far worst things happening to good people across the globe, sometimes we must step up and do the right thing where we’re able for no other reason than because it needs to be done. My Band and I have just launched a drought aid program called ‘SA-NDI’ (South Australian Nip-the-Drought Initiative) a collective initiative rallying around a rock anthem we’ve produced called ‘I Can Almost Taste The Rain’. With Australia’s populace of 25 million and the World’s population tipping 6 billion travellers – if enough of us were to download the song through its portal (www.sa-ndi.com.au) for even a $1 donation – the result would amount to a tremendous impact providing water, hay, fuel, food to families who in turn grow food for a significant segment of our Mother Earth. One hundred percent (100%) of donations go to righteous charitable Oz organizations like Aussie Helpers, Buy-A-Bail, Drought Angels towards the worthwhile causes they oversee in devastated areas. But the SA-NDI mission doesn’t stop there. We are also determined to perform ‘I Can Almost Taste The Rain’ for a session of Parliament in the New Year as a heart-touching apolitical reminder that we are all one heart, one land – be it a challenged region, continent or planet. The support and visibility we can generate via the internet and social media adds weight with which to tip the scales. Change and progress can and do occur with the shared resolve of good people coming together committed to make it happen. It just needs to be put out there far and widely enough for hearts to be touched.

LINKS:  https://open.spotify.com/album/1JC6hEcEYhNd09zKDCgLhw https://soundcloud.com/jacdalton/i-can-almost-taste-the-rain-2018 https://www.amazon.com/I-Can-Almost-Taste-Rain/dp/B07GNRGGLQ www.jacdalton.com www.sa-ndi.com.au https://vimeo.com/303971615 www.facebook.com/jacdaltonband www.twitter.com/jacdalton www.instagram.com/jac.dalton

Artist: Dream Eternal Bliss

New Release: Loud

Genre: Rock, Alternative Rock Located in: Franklin Lakes, New jersey

This song is alternative rock with a deliciously catchy groove, lush keyboard textures, and wicked guitar lines.

The music we are creating is... Unique! We're combing '80s new wave influences with our love of modern rock and pop and then sneaking some prog rock musicianship underneath the surface to create a new sound that is full of big guitars, big keyboards, tons of vocals, and a fresh vibe. And the more you listen to these songs, the more layers you discover.

Right now we are... promoting the release of our new record, Picture Glass, with live performances in the New York metropolitan area, and we just released the first music video, which you'll find right here! LINKS:  https://www.reverbnation.com/dreameternalbliss https://open.spotify.com/track/1hOTdV0kgwpHVa2NGGXiH6?si=rNElCyiSRXmpSJTZZqs0jg https://www.facebook.com/dreameternalbliss https://www.instagram.com/dreameternalbliss

Artist: NewClue

New Release: Illustrious Youth

Genre: Rock, Classic Rock, Nostalgic Metal

Located in: : New London CT, USA

This song is... NewClue is Nostalgic Metal Reborn. We all have individual influences, but it depends on the song we're playing. Everyone is unique, and offers a mixed style. We try not to let our influences cloud the music. This song is a coming of age story, and something we can all relate to. When you have youth, you have dreams, aspirations, and a willingness to make an impact. It has a contemporary feel, and relates well in 2018. We wanted to deliver a song that's a straight-forward "toe tapper" with a positive message.

The music we are creating is... The music we are creating is relatable. We try keeping it real, by dealing with life's everyday struggles. There's always a price to pay for your actions. This campaign is so timely with the rebirth of yesteryear's Rockers and widespread revival tours. In our opinion, the 80's music was an expression; one that left a strong impact on a lot of us today. Everything has a way of coming full circle, and we see the 80's sound returning, but with a fresh reboot.

LINKS:  ReverbNation > https://www.reverbnation.com/NewClue Spotify > https://open.spotify.com/album/6v9VzmHOkUhoz6kfTaOv6T Twitter > https://twitter.com/NewClue2 Facebook > https://www.facebook.com/NewClueBand iTunes > https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/mystic-winds-ep/id1089653211?app=itunes&ign-mpt=uo%3D4 SoundCloud > https://soundcloud.com/newclue

Artist: Joe Andolino

New Release: Life's Little Surprises

Genre: Adult Contemporary Rock

Located in: East Hanover NJ USA

This song is... Going about your regular routine and if you keep the faith and believe in good karma good things could happen to you. I am wanting to promote real songwriting that was the norm in the 70's and 80's strong melodies, tenor male vocals, meaningful lyrics and strong musicianship. Right now we are Looking to work with other similar vocalists on new material.

LINKS: https://open.spotify.com/track/4KDIH4iWggY6DBklBBWHPR

Artist: Jeff Rockker New Release: "White Tiger"

Genre: Rock

Located in: Paris, France

This song is... Jeff Rockker is a Paris based French-Californian rock singer/guitarist/songwriter. He is the lucky recipient of an ASCAP “Popular Songwriter Award”. His style is influenced by the great hard rock bands of the 80’s (AC/DC, Kiss The Cult, Trust, etc...) but, their double drum kick, metal sounding guitars and often incisive words, give his songs a very modern edge! Meet the great "White Tiger" ! He roams the streets of our urban jungles. He is an analogy for the wild and the free creature that lies within the soul of the rocker! "White Tiger" is the official single of the album. Can you see yourself in the lyrics of this song?

Right now we are... Jeff Rockker has just released his first album (an EP) called "Stronger!" on January the 3rd 2019! To accompany this album, Rockker asked fans around the world to film themselves while rocking to the single "Stronger". This "Fan Video" will be released very soon. Stay tuned!

LINKS:  https://www.reverbnation.com/jeffrockker/song/30369632-white-tiger https://open.spotify.com/track/540g8z313pi4mCE7NN59Qp?si=nEtXp7pGRMO74ofWttH0ZA https://twitter.com/jeffrockker https://www.instagram.com/jeffrockker https://www.facebook.com/jeffrockkerofficial

Artist: Then Falls The Sky

New Release: Hostage

Genre: Metal-core

Located in: : Bainbridge, Ohio, US

This song is... Then Falls The Sky Spreads some light in an otherwise dark world. With a message of hope, their energetic upbeat tempos, and in your face intensity. Hostage is a song about those trapped in a domestic violence situation. Our drummer is a DV survivor, and this song was written to help inspire others to find a safe way out.

Right now we are...: We are very excitedto Announce that we are working with Adam Sines from mizfit productions on shooting our second music video for our song Synical. We are still in pre production stage, but are very eager to start shooting. Adam is a very talented Photographer and videographer, and we are very honored to get to work with him.

LINKS: RN: https://www.reverbnation.com/thenfallsthesky/song/29682823-hostage Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/1z0GMhgnO7DuGaaq7X77Ai?si=DN9Jt1QZT9-dd94qw0QvsA iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/hostage/1397264399?i=1397264401 YouTube: https://youtu.be/7S3WWLN37XA Web: http://www.thenfallsthesky.com FB: https://m.facebook.com/thenfallsthesky/ (@thenfallsthesky) Twitter: www.twitter.com/thenfallsthesky (@thenfallsthesky) IG: www.instagram.com/thenfallsthesky (@thenfallsthesky)

[jefferyryanlong]

Fresh Listen - Antonio Carlos Jobim, Wave (A&M Records, 1967)

(Some pieces of recorded music operate more like organisms than records. They live, they breathe, they reproduce. Fresh Listen is a periodic review of recently and not so recently released albums that crawl among us like radioactive spiders, gifting us with superpowers from their stingers.)

Elevators. Supermarkets.

In a popular culture that distorts and deforms every aesthetic absorbed into its parasitic and ever-decaying life cycle, bossa nova has long been a joke, drained of its musical significance through juxtaposition with the most banal of circumstances. Elevators. Supermarkets. But how many of us has really ever heard bossa nova in the elevator, or lowly emitting through hidden speakers in the grocery store, as soulless muzak? The last song I remember hearing at my neighborhood market was “Emotional Rescue” by the Rolling Stones. And I ride a section of the best elevators everyday, and the only recurring sound is the synthesized likeness of a clacking keyboard while my fellow riders type things into their phones.

The myth of elevator music, specifically, bossa nova, is, for me, akin to an implanted replicant memory–I assume that it has happened to me, that at one point I sprinted to that monumental job interview, and when I slipped between the closing doors and pressed the button for the thirtieth floor, the gentle strains from “The Girl from Ipanema” with its maddening rhythmic syllables magnified my anxiety to something unbearable, and the ride was a never-ending ascent toward failure. Or I stepped into the elevator with the beautiful girl from a floor above in the dormitory, and bossa nova made a fool of both of us, robbing us of our ability to speak. For what could elevate the banality of bossa nova? Sometimes I feel that these things must have happened to me, else I would have no opinion of bossa nova at all. But no, these made up situations were simply collected, copied, and transferred from the weak imagination of someone else’s consciousness.

These memories don’t belong to me. They are the result of years of compounded gags in movies and television. I believed in the joke, and when I felt compelled to truly come to grips with the form, when I was mature enough to treat it as a sincere expression of composers and musicians from a country lousy with genius composers and musicians, I couldn’t take bossa nova seriously. In my mind I was playing out the fiction that had been programmed into me, that bossa nova’s cultural meaning is defined as a punchline in American popular culture.

It was in an auditorium on the University of Hawai’i campus that bossa nova grabbed me by the collar, shook me up, slapped me in the face a couple of times, and threw me down the stairs. Who was I, some twenty-something fuck who believed rock’n’roll to be the epitome of artistic expression to cast dispersion on this internationally beloved music genre’s meaning or intent?  Bossa Nova: The Sound That Seduced the World was not a definitive documentary, but it made me realized how stereotypical my thoughts on this form were. (A later documentary I saw in the same auditorium had a similar effect on me: I’d never been all that impressed by the records of Chet Baker until Let’s Get Lost showed how age and personal devastation had transformed him into a broken yet exceedingly eloquent instrument). An early insight I received from the documentary had to do with the form’s characteristic mellowness–as one musician explained, in the crowded apartments of Corcovado, the practitioner of the emerging sound of bossa nova had to pick on his or her guitar gently, lest the neighbors on the other side of thin walls become enraged. In those subdued living rooms and bedrooms of urban Brazil, the insistence of samba evolved into a kind of melancholic eroticism, its rhythms designed to inspire smaller movements in the body, a slight sway of the hip instead of a complicated step, a lingering good-bye kiss instead of a twirl or a spin.

Though I had a slight familiarity with Astrud and Joao Gilberto, as well as some of the work they recorded with Stan Getz, the artist I felt could truly expose me to the meditative soul of bossa nova was Antonio Carlos Jobim, composer of the most celebrated works of  the genre, a maximalist arranger and minimalist musician. I had been dissatisfied with his 1963 album The Composer of Desafinado, Plays, with its sentimental string sections sapping the melodies of any real emotional weight, but was drawn to his 1967 record, Wave, by its striking cover. The dark image of a solitary giraffe, its spindly legs gathered under its body as if captured in mid-run, bisected by a horizon splitting the sky dyed green and a desiccated landscape dyed blue. The image was significant to me because I needed it to be significant. It spoke to me, and I believed Jobim’s interior music would explain the giraffe’s lonely trek through a freak environment. Before I played Wave, I expected psychedelic dissonance (if psychedelic dissonance could be achieved in the mode of bossa nova). I expected earth pleas, the rumblings and complaint of a ravaged world. What would be the meaning of a rejuvenating wave to the depopulated world of the cover? 

The music turned out to be, well, bossa nova. Not avant-garde explorations of tone and harmony. The music was conventional, but it was immaculately constructed and luxuriant in its unhurried sweep through the air it occupied. Although Jobim’s songs, as it turned out, had nothing to do with the giraffe on the cover image (maybe it was just the art director’s take on those trippy times), they did, as a collection, show how melancholy can shade the surrounding world into alien colors–the inherent sadness that seeps through much of the music on Jobim’s Wave filters the perceptions of the listener with blue and green.

The first thing prospective listeners should understand in experiencing Wave is that it is, above all else, a guitar record. Though the music has the same symphonic imagination found in The Composer of Desafinado, Plays, and incorporates piano, flute, piccolo, harpsichord, and strings (thankfully, more tastefully so), the focal point of Jobim’s album, rhythmically and harmonically, is the plucked, picked, and occasionally strummed acoustic guitar, played with such precision that it almost seems mechanized. Jobim’s style is hardly hair-on-fire axe wizardry, though its surprising nuances, the significant press or release of a finger here and there, establish the guitar as the instrument around which every element of Jobim’s songs are based. The guitar sets and maintains the the tempo for the percussion, and it establishes the chords melodies are birthed from. Though his guitar, Jobim is given access to the blueprint of an aural architectural scheme that both reinforces and transcends bossa nova. Even the bass and drums are subordinated to the percussive framework laid out by Jobim’s complicated guitar patterns.

The album’s title track, “Wave,” is put together like a breezy twelve-bar blues, Jobim’s single-handed piano lines messing around with ad-libs of the melody line. This isn’t of the waves along the coast of Big Sur that drove Jack Kerouac into the throes of death depression. This wave rolls up around your ankles easy-like, taking nothing from you as it slides away, coolly and obligingly. Throughout the record, Jobim makes interesting moves with woodwinds, directing the flutes to ride low, fortifying notes ai for a lighter, higher pitched piccolo to step lightly upon.

“The Red Blouse’s” seemingly chill groove is subverted by a brisk rhythm that pulses in the bloodstream, sugars from the alcohol of a brunch-time mimosa as you’re awakened from a nap in the sun. It’s melodic refrain, maybe less a melody than an insistent riff, is taken up by a variety of instruments, each progressively grating as the song reaches for its climax.

Though in the classification system favored by records stores bossa nova is generally shelved in the jazz section, its forms, as well as its harmonic interests,  are perhaps too premeditated, in opposition to the obligatory improvisational freedom offered through jazz musicianship. “Look to the Sky” is the most “jazz-like” song on Wave, though the lead horn is less about spontaneous composition around harmonic possibilities than about playing straightforward variations of the melody.

The calculated and clean “Batindha” is, essentially, a guitar exercise, Jobim subtly altering chord expressions toward an understated display of the beauty of a broken heart. “Triste” could be an extension of “Wave,” except Jobim cleverly inserts the lofty blown notes of a Fench horn between the simple piano runs. The melody  of “Mojave” is a conversation between the piano and the other instruments, each player’s sentence ending in a definitive period. “Dialogo” emphasizes the romanticism of expressing art through a gauze of sadness, while “Lamento” with its sole vocal performance of Wave, attacks depression with a quick beat. “Antigua” allows the bass, for the most part overshadowed by the more prominent rhythmic operations of the guitar, to move around, to reach for the kind of fluidity that the previous songs have inhibited. Bass legend Ron Carter takes the opportunity to display his presence without drawing away from the totality of Jobim’s vision. The album’s final track, “Captain Bacardi,” disposed of the accumulated melancholy and infuses the atmosphere with the feverish motions of a party, and the song’s Brazilian percussion at last moves the thesis of Wave away from leisurely reflection to a physical self-actualization, in which dancing is free and open.

We plod through this world alone, mostly. Even to closest friends and loved ones we only reveal those aspects of ourselves we feel will be understood. The dark stuff, the fear and sadness, we may even hide from ourselves, until that darkness comes to perch on the headboards of our beds, keeping watch over an interminable insomnia. Wave washes over the unspeakable sadness of its author with brief, pretty tunes, and those notes that resonate within our darkness are relieved by the possibility of also being brief, easy-going, and pretty.   

[un-nmd]

Recent listening—

The Mothers of Invention, Weasles Ripped My Flesh (1970) Strikes a somewhat psychotic balance between the whimsy of a Ween and the all-out avant of a Beefheart. The musicianship’s all there lest you fear that Zappa’s noisy conundrums were meant to hide a lack thereof—his magic band equivalents are able to don ‘general public’ masks and jam away just like any contemporary fellow, as they do on “Directly From My Heart To You” and “My Guitar Wants To Kill Your Mama” (note the electric violin on the former). But to those with ears of gentle predisposition: beware, and don’t be fooled, for the joke’s on you. The visceral beasts behind those vaguely satirical eye-holes are let loose more often than they’re contained. Take the two characteristic collages, “Didja Get Any Onya?” and “Prelude To The Afternoon Of A Sexually Aroused Gas Mask”: chaos, yes, but ritualistic chaos; Zappa, wielder of the wild. The sheer number of ideas, themes, and allusions introduced and just as quickly passed over in the space of, for each, less than four minutes, is nauseatingly impressive. E.g. about halfway through the latter, whose title suggests Debussy’s own ...d’un faune, some Satanic call and response gives way to the distant strains of the second subject of the first movement of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique, over which some madman projects an uncanny valley imitation of a big cat growling—then final tremors from kit and a deep down electric rumbling to close. And if you thought music was one-dimensional (audio, you could argue, perhaps is) wait till you hear Zappa break the fourth wall on “Toads Of The Short Forest” which itself ends on a parodic consonance that’s rich with the same commercial irony of the album’s parting words— “Goodnight, boys and girls”—which follow one and a half minutes of some of the harshest noise you’ll ever hear. If you thought Penderecki was aggressive listen to this and reconsider.

Various artists, Planetarium (2017) You would think that with the extra personnel Sufjan would be somewhat protected from the subsuming ambition that fed Illinois and Adz to over an hour each—or that he’d personally outgrown it, as these mature words here would suggest:

A lot of those flourishes and gestures and aesthetic wanderings on earlier records were smoke and mirrors, a lot of obfuscation that were probably the result of me feeling either inadequate or feeling coy. There’s a lot of role playing and constructing facades.

But the 76-minute run-time indicates otherwise. Perhaps it’s the subject matter. These four gentlemen’s ode to the cosmos is as much about space as it is about substance—by which I mean: aside from the planet portraits they also craft sonic voids to match that of the great vacuum, and call it ‘ambient music’ so its justifiable. Is Muhly to blame? If so, its at least theoretically intriguing for its marriage of post-minimalism and popular music. It makes for dull listening though. You accept it the first couple of times but there’s no way I’m sitting through “Sun” or “Tides” or the “Moon” coda for a third or further. However with “Black Energy” the suspended dissonances are at least something for the ear to work on, and “Halley’s Comet” and “Black Hole” are short enough to accept as outros/intros to tracks preceding/following, with the latter also being interesting for its similarity to certain parts of Badalamenti’s score to Fire Walk With Me. But of the actual songs?—“Jupiter” and “Mars” quickly go from overwhelming to simply overcrafted. Likewise “Earth” is overcome by temporal grandeur, but it is defensible in the same way that the Mahler symphonies are, i.e. gushing Romanticism kills itself yet in doing so also transcends itself. “Pluto” and its interstellar string line provide the appropriate sappiness required of a work named Planetarium. The real gems, however, are “Neptune”, “Uranus”, “Saturn”, and “Mercury”—is it any coincidence that these are also the most Sufjan-esque?

John Coltrane, The Olatunji Concert (1967) This was all the Gods could muster: a cheap, dingy mic, a 30-sec intro, time for two jams with the latter cut off before the final hit—there the master laid down his pen. Like J.S. centuries ago it was, fittingly, on his signature move. Did he know it would be his last live recording? The notion would at least have been entertained as by then he was probably well into the throes of the cirrhosis that would eventually take him. Trane’s apocalyptic final will and testament, the culmination—if only chronologically—of a lifetime’s innovation, comes at you through an otherworldly haze, through cigarette smoke and spirit vapours, through half a century (exactly) of sonic decomposition of tapes that were at a poor enough quality to begin with. All that’s pretty is shed away, left behind for the blind and the shallow to fuck with. This is the primal essence. Trane, on the precipice, delivers a performance of catastrophic immensity. This was no Mahler 9, no sweet surrender—with one foot in the grave he raged.

Deep Puddle Dynamics, The Taste of Rain... Why Kneel? (1999) And re-calibrate again for the emcees in this realm require of the listener a completely different approach. Here the gamut of receptors is tuned less to harmony, instrumental skill, or ‘compositional rigour’ (in the Western art sense), and more to verse, cadence, dialect, timbre, rhythm, and so forth—it’s only empty if you ain’t looking hard enough. And four voices means there’s plenty of variety to go round. The interplay between the distinct bodies to their voices makes them stronger as a unit, à la Tribe preceding. E.g. I don’t think I could handle an entire full-length full of Doseone’s nasal delivery but on this the other three contextualise the texture space he resides in so that his grating-ness means something. (See his entry on “The Scarecrow Speaks”.) Another point of difference between this and the records surrounding: I’ve had genius.com open for probably half my listens. The pace, density, and abstraction of the ideas expounded deserve more comprehension than a fleeting ear’s able to discern; the work is the word, mostly, so read the libretto. We open with Slug: “Descending on the centre / from the outskirts of obscurity”. An apt heads up for such is how you approach the meaning to these tracks, most of which exceed five minutes. Within them the majority of time is spent dealing in Impressionistic strokes of free-verse, free-associative syllables strung streaming out to the potent symbology of, say, a candle flame (as on “The Candle”) or the psychological landscape of a peeling ceiling (as on “Heavy Ceiling”—distant progenitor to Courtney Barnett’s “An Illustration of Loneliness”). However at times a rhyme catalyses the crystallisation of these supersaturated abstractions—here’s Sole towards the end of “Thought vs. Action”:

Man, I once had an idea but it didn’t get me anywhere Read The Art of War when I should have been out fighting Why is it the mass is unexposed to so-called great thinkers until they die? And why do they live in fear Of the fighters afraid to leave their insides?

But wait! Don’t forget ‘compositional rigour’ just yet as a certain hook on the track just discussed, the chant chucking nouns at each crotchet (“catalyst, cataclysm, fallacy, fortitude, medulla...”), appears also on “Deep Puddle Theme Song” and “June 26th, 1998”, albeit with different words, and as different answers to different questions. And formwise you’ve got the partition between the ‘98 tracks and those from June 26th, 1999. There’s a palpable maturation from the former to the latter. In the year of ‘98 they had more answers than questions—see the noun chant above, see the youthful arrogance on “The Scarecrow Speaks” and “I Am Hip Hop (Move the Crowd)”. And even the cynicism that closes #1 has with it a little bit of nihilistic tongue-in-cheek. One year on and they’re a lot more tired of the world. That sly grin’s nowhere to be found on lines like these...

How is it I’m motivated to endure Eight hours of pure unadulterated boredom? Then sit in front of another computer for Four more hours using the same old drum set Trying different loops, can’t find one to fit Maybe this is why I sit in front of a pad of paper, pen in hand with a blank mind And I ask myself Is the writer’s slump the best form of meditation? Rhetorical, don’t have an answer And I also don’t expect one.

...and all that’s left is a deathly wit...

It ain't all love, it's confusion and a waste of time It ain't all time, it's confusion and a waste of love It ain't all waste, it's confusion and some time to love It ain't all confusion, it's love and some time to waste It ain't all that It's all of the above So scared into this And you are And you wonder from the shores how deep the puddle is. 

...borne of the same fin-de-siècle dread that fed Radiohead’s OK Computer.

Alvvays, s/t (2014) Music that’s dense and complex and meticulous will never be difficult to write about, or, for some, even to listen to, because there’s always the task of ascribing theory to composition to hide in. Such an approach, however, can neglect what you might say to be the primary purpose of music: evoking a meaningful emotional response in the listener. This, to trained ears, can be tempered by knowledge and understanding of the underlying theory, but for the most part it is governed by right-brain perception; that is, the Dionysian response as opposed to the Apollonian. For example: I could write about how on “Dives” you can developmentally derive the verse theme from the prelude’s sinister synth line, or about the 3/2 bars on the refrain to the same and how Molly’s melody overlays a 6/4 structure in a sort of inverse hemiola to the colossal opening of Brahms’s 3rd—or, instead, I could write about the sweet, sweet ache I am immediately plunged into upon the first words to the first song (”How / Do I get close to you? / Even if you don’t notice / As I admire you / On the subway”), or the simultaneous melancholy of lyric and uplift of melody on the chorus to “Archie, Marry Me”, or the crack in my heart that accompanies, every time, Molly’s crack up to that high note on “Ones Who Love You”, that velvet vowel vocalise that’s recalled, in spirit, on the final seconds of their latest single when she, unexpectedly, epiphanically, goes up the register to a transcendent 5th scale degree falling to the major 3rd on what itself is a 6-3 on the I, i.e. a first inversion founded on yet another radiant, overtone-heavy 3rd. Point being, who really cares about the details when all you can think about is that it’s making you soar, or in some cases, sore (in the chest).

[rbeatz]

Jody Cooper – Serenades and Odes to a Cracked World (Part 1)

German singer-songwriter Jody Cooper combines melodic undertones with his distinctive and powerful vocals to release in his latest project, Serenades and Odes to a Cracked World (Part 1). 

Growing up in the eighties as an English boy in a Scottish town, Cooper felt a little out of place, but decided to incorporate his love for performing onstage to begin to feel more accepted.  He started out learning how to play the violin and began performing for the classroom, later earning himself the moniker “Elton Cooper.”  He began to broach off into other instruments, teaching himself how to play the piano, bass, and guitar.  At age 14, he started learning how to write songs, and at 16, his adamant music making process began to become fused with his drive to become a musician.

After a season of performing for bands as a self-employed musician, Cooper decided to take his musical undertaking more seriously by enrolling in the University of Liverpool to undergo his music degree there.  In 2007, he released his first album, Ten a Penny, a self-financed and self-produced project that took five years in the making.  After a stint of shows with the a capella group, Sense of Sound, several releases and European tours followed [Growing Up and Free Thyself (2012)].  In 2013, Cooper, like his musical heroes, The Beatles, left the UK to Germany to begin his music career there.

Serenades and Odes to a Cracked World (Part 1) bridges socio-commentary with contagious hooks and binding grooves in this alt-rock album that was implemented right after his first visits and concerts in the U.S. in 2016.

The record starts off with the first track “I Forsake The Joneses,” that follows with an introduction toward the beginning with the Joneses Department store being announced.  This leads its way into the narrative of the song that has a great alternative rock vibe with strong underlining pop sensibilities.  A great tune to bob your head to, the drumming backbeat works in melodic harmonies on the keys and electric guitar.  With a great hum of activity, listeners will really get the gist of the track, as Cooper repeatedly reinstates the title of the track in the refrain of the song.

“Leave A Light On” is followed by an intergalactic wave of inundating guitar sounds.  Brimming with authenticity and artistic talent along with tight musicianship and vocals filled with attitude, the great alt-rock sound really throws you into the throes of the moment.  The song has Cooper singing about how to not leave him out in the cold.  It is an emotional song with a really rocking vibe with an introspective sound that incorporates electric rhythms on the bass and contagious riffs on the guitar.

The track, “One,” enlists the sounds of the sea towards the beginning of the song.  Piano harmonies gives off a forlorn inkling in the track and will leave listeners wanting more.  The simple, sparse arrangement is haunting with just vocals and piano at first with a drumming backbeat that eventually joins in.  This is an emotional and harmonious song with a thought-provoking bent.  As Cooper pours over his feelings on the track, he sings about how there will always be that someone who will harbor you through any storm.  The simple acoustics and modest arrangement will have listeners reeling from its moving and altogether impactful sound.

“You Can’t Make It On Your Own” follows through with a highly dynamic sound.  There is a bit of psychedelic to this track with the vocals retaining a slight tinny reverberation from the microphone.  With an expectant retro, garage rock feel to this song, the vocals come in first with the accompaniment of the electric guitar as well as the driving sound of the drums coming in later.  The slow sauntering rhythms definitely give off a rocking cadence.  With fiery lyrics that joins in that talks about the struggles and the fight to stay alive and of staying together and resisting the urge to give up, the deep and meaningful word play is emphasized by a gripping rock tune that will grow on you.

“Don’t Know You Now” starts off with a magnetic piano melody that is truly engrossing and has a great acoustic vibe to it.  The soothing sounds as well as beseeching vocals pave the way to make Jody Cooper a convincing act.  The strong vibrations with great energy and weaving guitar and bass rhythms make for a great psychedelic sound straight from the 60s and 70s.

“Living In Hell” is a pensive track with a dark and foreboding feel.  The rock song, which is about surviving in dark times, emanates an upbeat chorus, while the rest of the track chases a slower beat.  The tight harmonies courses through with oscillating reverberations from the guitar.  Similarly, the vocals also have an echoing quality.  The resonating chorus on this melodic track highlights the certain parts on this song that have an upbeat quality to it.

The seventh track, “Home,” has a clashing rock sound to it.  The great vibes coming from the smothering vocals and hypnotic beats pave support an upbeat chorus with a great appealing 80s cadence.  The vocals inhibit a smoky quality that is supported by synths and a great New Wave era retro twist.

“The Great Divide” has a loud gunning from the start of the song from the electric guitar.  The powerful, loud, and spacious sounds from the guitar is mixed with the intermingling of keys to create a more soaring and dynamic sound.  There seems to be a lot at stake, here, as the electric sounds coming from the guitars fitfully produces a spiraling and radioactive mixture of loud, invigorating tunes.

“Silence” starts off with a layering of piano harmonies.  The soft sound coming from the melodic playing has Cooper singing wholeheartedly about the scale of things and how eventually due to the propensity of some actions, things can escalate.  Here, he is asking about why we let the rift of certain things pull apart our relationships.

“You Say You Own Me” starts off with some furious strumming from the guitar.  The vocals is featured solely with the acoustics of the guitar.  This is a slightly more hopeful track about losing and gaining something as you learn the truth about someone.  As the song builds up with more tension, the track grows with more dramatic strength as the drums join in, in supporting the acoustic guitar on this song.  This track has a grunge feel to it, with its promising overarching fiery spirit you can get a cathartic release from this powerful and emotional rock sound.

On “Breakdown,” we hear the sound of some young kids in the midst of gunfire.  With this chaotic intro follows Cooper’s clear and expressive vocals.  The vocals are like a spark of light within this highly dramatic scene.  The fuzzy guitars on this track is backed up by vocals that harmonizes along to the theatrics on this song.

“It’s Alright” has a more light-hearted approach than the rest of the album had elicited.  This is a departure from some of Cooper’s more darker tracks.  Catchy as well as upbeat, this track favors a more acoustic approach with the guitar and a jazzy saxophone solo.

The last track to this album, “Songs For the Oppressed,” begins with the sounds of a riot and the clashing of chaos as things fall into dissimilation.  The electronic modes give off some of these darker themes and connotations as sounds of metal with a pulsating bassline and darker vibrations are displayed.  Yet the vocals here are controlled and never reach to the point of outright screams.  The riveting sound have vocals that bridges the gap between a more metal sound and a sound that is catered to a more classic rock audience, incorporating a blend of both genres here in this track.

Multi-instrumentalist Jody Cooper acts as a one-man band who does plays all the instruments himself.  In this DIY spirit, he produces some great electric sounds on this one of a kind alt-rock, pop album.  Binding together harmonious riffs and lush arrangements he perpetuates a rock vibe that really draws from the greats, including U2, The Beatles, and Glen Hansard.

2017 sees the release of one of his most ambitious projects yet.  Serenades And Odes From A Cracked World is Jody Cooper’s first crowd-funded concept album on the themes of disintegration (part 1) and integration (part 2, release TBC).  Cooper speaks out on the subject of the album: “With everything that’s happening in the world, the time has come for people to start engaging with the problems around them in an attempt to make a positive change.  This album is my attempt.”

Altogether imbued with a sense of disparity, this fits into the grooves of global affairs today.  Cooper has made a convincing act of himself.  Raw, emotional, and powerful, Jody Cooper has created a great rock/pop album, so have a listen.

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