#Ultimate double bassist

[heavymetal]

35 years ago this week, Ozzy Osbourne released his fifth studio album, NO REST FOR THE WICKED. Following Jake E. Lee's departure from the band in 1987, Ozzy received a demo tape from a young guitarist named Zakk Wylde, who was hired shortly thereafter to record the follow-up to The Ultimate Sin. Zakk's energy meshed well with bassist Bob Daisley and drummer Randy Castillo, and the final product was certified Gold in less than three months (it has since gone double platinum). Unfortunately, Bob Daisley got shafted yet again when he was dismissed from the band at the end of the recording sessions. Ozzy's former band mate from Black Sabbath, Geezer Butler, was then hired to play bass on the supporting world tour.

[ourshadowstallerthanoursoul]

Interview to JPJ

(by Steven Rosen, Guitar Player - July 1977, Chicago)

It was shared on ultimate-guitar.com by Steven Rosen himself (link). I suggest going to read the introduction because there's a bit of angry JPJ which is quite surprising (to me at least). Enjoy!

What was the impetus behind becoming a bass player?

I used to play piano when I was younger, and there was a rock and roll band forming at school when I was fourteen, but they didn't want a piano player, all they wanted was drums or bass. I thought, I can't get the drums on the bus, bass looked easy, four strings, no chords, easy so I took it up. And it was easy; it wasn't too bad at all. I took it up before guitar, which I suppose is sort of interesting. Before I got a real 4-string, my father had a ukulele banjo, a little one, and I had that strung up like a bass, but it didn't quite have the bottom that was required. Actually my father didn't want to have to sign a guarant or to back me in the payments for a bass. He said, ‘Don't bother with it; take up the tenor saxophone. In two years the bass guitar will never be heard of again.’ I said, ‘No Dad, I really want one, there's work for me.’ He said, ‘Ah, there's work?’ And I got a bass right away.

What was your first bass?

Oh, it was a pig; it had a neck like a tree trunk. It was a solid body Dallas bass guitar with a single cutaway. It sounded all right though, and it was good for me because I developed very strong fingers. I had no idea about setting instruments up then, so I just took it home from the shop. I had an amplifier with a 10 speaker... Oh, it was awful. It made all kinds of farting noises. And then I had a converted television; you know one of those big old stand-up televisions with the amp in the bottom and a speaker where the screen should be. I ended up giving myself double hernias. Bass players always had the hardest time because they always had to cope with the biggest piece of equipment. It never occurred to me when I was deciding between that and drums that I'd had to lug a bass amp.

What kind of music were you playing in that first band?

Shadows, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis stuff. I started doubling on piano. We didn't have a drummer at first, because we never could find one. That happened to another bass player, Larry Graham, Sly Stone's bass player. He started off in a band with no drummer, which is how he got that percussive style. You've got a lot to make up for once the lead guitar takes a solo because there's only you left. You've got to make a lot of noise. We got a drummer after a while whom I taught, would you believe. I've never played drums in my life.

That must have definitely had an influence on your playing.

I suppose it must have. I don't like bass players that go boppity boppity bop all over the neck; you should stay around the bottom and provide the end of the group. I work very closely with the drummer; it's very important.

How long did that first band last?

Not very long. I found a band with a drummer. This band also came along with really nice looking guitars, and I thought, ‘Oh, they must be great!’ They had Burns guitars so I got myself one, too. The one with the three pickups and a Tru-Voice amplifier. We all had purple band jackets and white shoes, and I thought, ‘This is it, this is the big time.’ But as soon as I got out of school I played at American Air Force bases, which was good training, plus they always had great records in the jukebox. That was my introduction to the black music scene, when very heavy gentlemen would come up insisting on Night Train eight times an hour.

What was the first really professional band you were in?

It was with Jet Harris and Tony Meehan (bassist and drummer with The Shadows). That was when I was seventeen, I suppose. And those were the days when they used to scream all the way through the show. It was just like now, really, where you have to make a dash for the limos at the end of the night make a sort of terrible gauntlet. In the days before roadies, you'd have to drag around your own gear, so we all invested in a roadie. We thought we owed it to ourselves, and this bloke was marvelous. He did everything, he drove the wagon, he lugged the gear, he did the lights... the whole thing.

What kind of bass were you using with Harris and Meehan?

Oh, I got my first Fender then. I lusted after this Jazz bass in Lewisham, and it cost me about $250, I think. It was the new one. They'd just changed the controls, and I used that bass up until last (1975) tour, and then she had to go. She was getting unreliable and rattling a lot, and I just had to leave her home this time.

What followed your working with that band?

I got into sessions. I thought, ‘I've had enough of the road’, bought myself a dog and didn't work for six months. Then I did start up again. I played in other silly bands. I remember that Jet Harris and Tony Meehan band, John McLaughlin joined on rhythm guitar. It was the first time I'd met him and it was hilarious. Here he was sitting there all night going Dm to G to Am. That was my first introduction to jazz when he came along, because we'd all get to the gig early and have a blow. Oh, that was something, first meeting him. And then I joined a couple of other bands with him for a while, rhythm and blues bands.

Do you remember the first session that you ever did?

No, I don't think so; it was in Decca Number 2 (studio in London). I was late, and I suddenly realized how bad my reading was. There was another bass player there, a stand-up bass, and I was just there to provide the click. It was nearly my last session.

Who were some of the people you were doing sessions with?

All kinds of silly people: used to do calls with Tom Jones, Cathy Kirby, Dusty Springfield.

The Rolling Stones and Donovan, too, didn't you?

I only did one Stones session, really. I just did the strings, they already had the track down. It was ‘She's A Rainbow’. And then the first Donovan session was a shambles, it was awful. It was ‘Sunshine Superman’ and the arranger had got it all wrong, so I thought, being the opportunist that I was, ‘I can do better than that’ and actually went up to the producer. He came around and said, ‘Is there anything we can do to sort of save the session?’ And I piped up, ‘Well, look how about if I play it straight?’ because I had a part which went sort of ooowooooo (imitates a slide up the neck) every now and again, and the other bass player sort of did wooooo (imitates downwards slide) down below, and then there was some funny congas that were in and out of time. And I said, ‘How about if we just sort of play it straight; get the drummer to do this and that?’

How did the session go?

The session came off, and I was immediately hired as the arranger by Mickie Most whom I loved working with; he was a clever man. I used to do Herman's Hermits and all that. I mean they were never there; you could do a whole album in a day. And it was great fun and a lot of laughs. I did all of Lulu's stuff and all his artists. I did one Jeff Beck single, and he's never spoken to me since. It was ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’. I did the arrangement for it and I played bass. Then we had ‘Mellow Yellow’ for Donovan, which we argued about for hours because they didn't like my arrangement at all, not at all. Mickie stood by me. He said, ‘I like the arrangement, I think it's good’. It wasn't Donovan. He didn't mind either but he had so many people around him saying, ‘Hey, this isn't you.’ But he sold a couple of a million on it, didn't he?

Was the Hurdy Gurdy Man session when you first met Jimmy Page?

No. I'd met Jimmy on sessions before. It was always Big Jim and little Jim. Big Jim Sullivan and little Jim and myself and the drummer. Apart from group sessions where he'd play solos and stuff like that, Page always ended up on rhythm guitar because he couldn't read too well. He could read chord symbols and stuff, but he'd have to do anything they'd ask when he walked into a session. But I used to see a lot of him just sitting there with an acoustic guitar sort of raking out chords. I always thought the bass player's life was much more interesting in those days, because nobody knew how to write for bass, so they used to say, ‘We'll give you the chord sheet and get on with it.’ So even on the worst sessions you could have a little runaround. But that was good; I would have hated to have sat there on acoustic guitar.

How long did you do sessions?

Three or four years, on and off. Then I thought I was going to get into arranging because it seemed that sessions and running about was much too silly. I started running about and arranging about forty or fifty things a month. I ended up just putting a blank piece of score paper in front of me and just sitting there and staring at it. Then I joined Led Zeppelin, I suppose, after my missus said to me, ‘Will you stop moping around the house; why don't you join a band or something?’ And I said, ‘There are no bands I want to join, what are you talking about?’ And she said, ‘Well, look, I think it was in Disc, Jimmy Page is forming a group’, he'd just left the Yardbirds ‘why don't you give him a ring?’ So I rang him up and said, ‘Jim, how you doing? Have you got a group yet?’ He said, ‘I haven't got anybody yet.’ And I said, ‘Well, if you want a bass player, give me a ring.’ And he said, ‘All right, I'm going up to see this singer Terry Reid told me about, and he might know a drummer as well. I'll call you when I've seen what they're like.’ He went up there, saw Robert Plant, and said, ‘This guy is really something.’ We started under the name the New Yardbirds because nobody would book us under anything else. We rehearsed an act, an album, and a tour in about three weeks, and it took off. The first time, we all met in this little room just to see if we could even stand each other. It was wall-to-wall amplifiers and terrible, all old. Robert (Plant) had heard I was a session man, and he was wondering what was going to turn up some old bloke with a pipe? So Jimmy said, ‘We're all here, what are we going to play?’ And I said, ‘I don't know, what do you know?’ And Jimmy said, ‘Do you know a number called, The Train Kept A Rollin'?’ I told him, ‘No.’ And he said, ‘It's easy, just G to A.’ he counted it out, and the room just exploded, and we said, ‘Right. We're on, this is it, this is going to work!’ And we just sort of built it up from there. ‘Dazed And Confused’ came in because Jimmy knew that, but I could never get the sequence right for years; it kept changing all the time with different parts, and I was never used to that. I used to having the music there, could never remember. In fact, I'm still the worst in the band remembering anything. And the group jokes about it, ‘Jonesy always gets the titles wrong and the sequences wrong.’ Even now I have a piece of paper I stuck on top of the Mellotron which says: ‘Kashmir remember the coda!’

What were some of your early amplifiers?

I've used everything from a lousy made-up job, to a great huge top valve (tube) amp. We started off in a deal with Rickenbacker where we had these awful Rickenbacker amps; they were so bad. Our first tour was a shambles. For about a year I never even heard the bass. They said, ‘We've designed this speaker cabinet for you’, and I said, ‘Let me see it, what's it got in it?’ It had one 30 speaker! I said, ‘All right, stand it up there alongside whatever else I've got, and I'll use it.’ I plugged it in, and in a matter of five seconds it blew up. I thought the bloke was having me on; I said, ‘There's no such thing as a 30 speaker!’ And I had to take the back off because I couldn't believe it. Then we met the guy from Univox, and he came up with a bass stack, which unfortunately didn't last the night. But while it was going, it was the most unbelievable sound I've ever heard. It was at the Nassau Coliseum in New York, I remember, and the bass filled the hall. It was so big, it couldn't have lasted. I don't think I'll come across anything that sounded like that. But as I said, three numbers and wheel the Acoustics out again. I used two or three 360 standard Acoustics for quite a long time. They served me well.

You used the Jazz bass until just recently?

Yeah. Oh, I got a hold of a very nice Gibson violin bass (pictured in the little cut out wheel on the cover of Led Zeppelin III). That was nice, too, it's not stage worthy, but it gives a beautiful warm sound. I don't like Gibson basses generally because they feel all rubbery; I like something you can get your teeth into. But the violin bass was the only Gibson that was as heavy as a Fender to play, but still had that fine Gibson sound. I used it on Led Zeppelin III, and I've used it every now and again, usually when I'm tracking a bass after I've done keyboards for the main track. The one I have went through Little Richard's band and then through James Brown's band, and it arrived in England. In fact, I saw it in an old movie clip of Little Richard. It was probably about a '48 or '50 or something like that; it was the original one. Actually, I've also got an old '52 Telecaster bass. I used that on stage for a while, for ‘Black Dog’ and things like that.

Do you ever use a pick when you play?

Yes, when the situation demands it; on the 8-string it's awful messy with your fingers. On ‘The Song Remains The Same’ I use a pick to get that snap out of the instrument. It's fun, you play different. If I was just playing straight bass, I'd use fingers. When I first started I always used my fingers.

How has playing with Jimmy Page for the last nine years styled your playing?

That's hard. I play a lot looser than I used to. For instance somebody like John Entwistle is more of a lead instrument man than I am. I tend to work closer with Bonzo I think. But then again I don't play that much bass on-stage anymore, what with the pianos and the Mellotron. I'll always say I'm a bass player, though.

How do you develop a bass part?

You put in what's correct and what's necessary. I always did like a good tune in the bass. For example, listen to’ What Is And What Should Never Be’ (on Led Zeppelin II). The role of a bassist is hard to define. You can't play chords so you have a harmonic role; picking and timing notes. You'll suggest a melodic or harmonic pattern, but I seem to be changing anyway toward more of a lead style. The Alembic bass is doing it; I play differently on it. But I try to never forget my role as a bass player: to play the bass and not mess around too much up at the top all the time. You've got to have somebody down there, and that's the most important thing. The numbers must sound right, they must work right, they must be balanced.

You just picked a track from the second album, but there was something so gloriously unique about the first Zep record.

I know what people mean when they say the first Zeppelin album was the best. It was the first. I don't know what it was; we could never recreate those conditions it was recorded in. It was done in about thirty hours, recorded and mastered. There was a lot of energy in those days. But I liked (Physical Graffiti). I liked most of them actually. The funny thing was about the first album, when we got to about the third album (Led Zeppelin III) and started using acoustics everyone was saying, ‘Ahhh, Led Zeppelin has gone acoustic. They've changed their style.’ What everybody forgets is there were two acoustic numbers on the first album. Right? ‘Babe I'm Gonna Leave You’ and ‘Black Mountain Side’. The funny thing is people try to pigeon-hole you with all that heavy metal stuff. And if they ever listened to the fucking albums they'd realize it was never riff after riff after riff. It never was like that, you know? Peculiar... oh, well.

Do you practice?

In a word, no. I fool around on piano, but bass I never practice. Although again, with the Alembic, I'm beginning to feel, ‘Wouldn't it be nice to have it in the room?’ It really makes you want to play more, which is fantastic.

The band has always had a strange relationship with the press.

There is an amount of professionalism which must be retained. You can't go around canceling gigs and things like that. After Robert's accident there were rumors of, ‘Oh, they're afraid to come out’ and this and that which was really hard on us because we've always tried to be as professional as possible. And we take a pride in this. We've tried to turn up on time but it gets hard moving this amount of people. And that sort of thing hurts. Robert was in a wheelchair and we had to wait until he was healed. And then we were all ready to go and he got tonsillitis on this '77 tour. And he must have felt so bad. I tell you if this band ever drops from favor with the public, a load of people are going to come down on our asses so fucking hard. They're just waiting for us to drop. I don't know why, I honestly don't know. I always remember the first review of our first album in Rolling Stone and the bloke dismissed it out of hand. I don't even think he would listen to it and said as much. Then they dismissed us as hype.

Who do you listen to?

I don't. I used to listen to a lot of jazz bass players once, but jazz has changed so much now, it's hardly recognizable. I listened to a lot of tenor sax players: Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane and all those people. Bass players? Scott La Faro, who died. He used to be with (jazz pianist) Paul Chambers. Ray Brown and Charlie Mingus, of course. I'm not too keen on the lead bass style of some players. Paul McCartney, I've always respected; he puts the notes in the right place at the right time. He knows what he's about.

Who don't you listen to?

Ian [Anderson] is a pain in the ass. We toured with Jethro Dull [sic] once and I think he probably spoke three words to Jimmy or I at any one time. The band was nice but he was such a funny fucker. His music bores the pants off me, it's awful. Page came up with the greatest line about them. He had a title for a live album when Jethro was playing in Los Angeles: ‘Bore 'Em at The Forum’. (Ritchie) Blackmore is another guy I don't like. He was supposed to have been a big session man but he must have done demos because he was never a regular session man. I'm getting out all my pet hates.

There's nothing you'd like to do outside of Zeppelin in an instrumental context?

I always get the feeling I'd like to write a symphony. I like all music. I like classical music a lot. Ravel, Bach, of course, Mozart I could never stand, though to play it on the piano is great fun. If Bach had ever come across the bass guitar, he would have loved it. Rock and roll is the only music left where you can improvise. I don't really know what's happened to jazz; it has really disappointed me. I guess they started playing rock and roll.

So you're able to continually experiment in Zeppelin and expand your playing?

Yes, absolutely. I wouldn't be without Zeppelin for the world. What's it like being in Led Zeppelin? I don't know. It is a peculiar feeling; it intrigues me.

[garadinervi]

Else Marie Pade: Sange fra en væg, reinterpreted by Kira Martini and Dybfølt (Kirstine Elise Pedersen, cello; Mathæus Bech, double bass), Dacapo Records, 2024

«Else Marie Pade wrote Sange fra en væg (Songs From a Wall) when she was arrested and later confined in the Frøslev Camp in Southern Jutland during World War II. The songs are not only historically interesting but they offer a deeper understanding of the person Else Marie Pade and her versatile production. Dybfølt, comprised of cellist Kirstine Elise Pedersen and double bassist Mathæus Bech, has together with the singer Kira Martini reinterpreted the songs. The musicians have used Pade's original scores as a starting point and included their own backgrounds in both classical, folk and jazz music, and the result is a moving and charming meeting across time and genres. Listen to a single here while you read. Music created out of necessity During World War II, teenager Else Marie Pade (1924-2016) composed a series of seemingly innocent songs, yet they were written against a dark and tragic backdrop. Pade was deeply involved in the resistance against the German occupation during the war. Initially relatively innocent activities, but later involving transporting explosives and espionage – in activities that ultimately would have resulted in the death penalty if she had been discovered. On a September morning in 1944, Pade was apprehended and taken to the Gestapo headquarters at Aarhus University. After the initial interrogation, she was placed in a cell at Aarhus Arrest and made a crucial decision: "One night, when chaos reigned inside me, I screamed loudly in fear and despair in my solitary cell – but no one came. Then I promised myself that if I survived this, I would devote myself to music for the rest of my life. Then I felt a strange calmness. Light, warmth, and love surrounded me. I was no longer alone. This became the turning point in my life." During the night in her cell, she began to compose, lacking paper, she scratched the notes into the cell wall with a suspender buckle. The first composition from the cell was the song Du og jeg og stjernerne ('You and I and the Stars'). After some time, she was interned in the Frøslev Camp where she continued to write songs, many of them in a naive and humorous schlager style (including the song Swingsko, which addresses the youths of the time). "It is music created out of necessity, like a dandelion shooting up through the asphalt", as the musicians in Dybfølt point out. The sound of the Frøslev Camp As a duo, Mathæus Bech and Kirstine Elise Pedersen have previously interpreted music by Rued Langgaard among others, in a personal style characterized by improvisation, folk music and classical training. With a playful and curious approach, they together with singer Kira Martini have interpeted Pade's compositions in a contemporary style with a keen eye for the historical context. Even the sound of the barracks in the Frøslev Camp can be heard on the new recording: "On a frosty and snow-white January day, we drove down to the Frøslev Camp with three speakers, two microphones and a reel-to-reel tape recorder. The idea was to play our recordings out into the room at double speed, then record them through the reel-to-reel recorder and slow it down to half speed, so that the music is now back at the original speed, but the reverb from the barracks has doubled in time," Dybfølt explains. – Dacapo Records

[emily-mooon]

It’s that time again: Late night Nordegrim headcanons!

- they watch iconic Canadian historical crime show Murdoch Mysteries together. I’ve said it before and I shall say it again, Neil likes detective mystery shows like Poirot. They both have fun trying to figure out who did it. Stacey also likes it for the character relationship drama cause let me tell you that show has a crap ton of it and it can get very interesting (depends on the season though tbh).

-to add to the prev headcanon, Wallace also watches it and sometime after season 6, he made a drinking game for it. All three of them got wasted first time they played it cause it was a James Pendrick episode (those episodes along with Terrence Meyers episodes have a formula to them with little reoccurring details)

- even though I’ve stated that Neil’s the little spoon, there are times where he is the big spoon and that’s when Stacey has a bad day. She just wants her boyfriend/husband to wrap his arms around her on those days

-In the future when Stacey is an English teacher, she’ll sometimes wear one of Neil’s T-shirts to work under a flannel or something. Usually it’s when he’s out on a set that’s out of province and sometimes outside of Canada but she’ll also do it when he’s home

- Mr. and Mrs. Pilgrim love Neil. They love their daughter’s dorky boyfriend. They play Clue together on Friday nights

- Stacey is the one who uses pet names the most. Neil is far too awkward to call her any. He can make out with her in a the Tim Hortons, but his ass will freeze in any attempt to call her ‘honey’ out in public (he has called her ‘bunny’ once and both of them were flustered)

-DOUBLE👏DATES 👏WITH 👏MOBILLACE!!! I will not elaborate further as to why, you can guess what the dates are like

- When Stacey saw Neil smile for the first time (I don’t think he smiles very often), it was all over at that point. She fell even harder for him based on his awkward but cute smile (and also laugh ngl)

- They did ONE jam session with Shatterband. You can try to pry bassist Neil from my hands but ultimately you’d fail cause I, a bassist, have a firm grip on it.He plays bass with them sometimes cause he thinks it would make it better. Stacey I think is a pretty good singer, so she did the singing (makes sense since she is played by Anna Kendrick who is an amazing singer. But imo Stacey is a little bit below the former)

- Bringing back the ‘they elope on a rock on a beach on the east coast’ headcanon back. They would do it. At first Stacey just proposed to Neil and they both agreed to wait a little bit, but they’re dorks and on a whim eloped cause a ceremony sounded intimidating and also expensive. Their witnesses was Neil’s uncle and aunt as they live there (Neil has family on the east coast in my heart)

Im gonna stop now cause I’m tired. Im sorry if some of them sound incoherent. As I said I’m tired and if there are any spelling mistakes or what not, I’ll fix them in the morning.

So goodnight and hoped you liked them! :]

[projazznet]

Remembering Maestro Armando Anthony "Chick" Corea (June 12, 1941 – February 9, 2021)

The Chick Corea + Steve Gadd Band – Chinese Butterfly

Chinese Butterfly is a double album by keyboardist Chick Corea and drummer Steve Gadd. The band is rounded out by saxophonist/flautist Steve Wilson, guitarist Lionel Loueke and bassist Carlitos del Puerto.

The Allmusic review by Matt Collar awarded the album 4½ stars and stated: “With both Corea and Gadd in their seventies at the time of recording, it’s refreshing to hear them sound so inventive and willing to explore new songs, even as they look back on their over 50-year partnership. Ultimately, it’s that vibrant, in-the-moment reciprocity that makes Chinese Butterfly such a compelling listen.”

Chick Corea – keyboards, Yamaha CFX grand piano Steve Gadd – drums Lionel Loueke – guitars, vocals Carlitos del Puerto – acoustic bass, electric bass Steve Wilson – flute, saxophone Luisito Quintero – percussion Philip Bailey – vocals (track 6)

[innovacancy]

[melodiousmonk]

Peter Gabriel announces his first album of new material in over 20 years

i/o releases on 1 December, 2023

i/o is 12 tracks of grace, gravity and great beauty that provide welcome confirmation of not only Peter’s ongoing ability to write stop-you-in-your-tracks songs but also of that thrilling voice, still perfectly, delightfully intact. Throughout the album the intelligent and thoughtful – often thought-provoking – songs tackle life and the universe. Our connection to the world around us – ‘I’m just a part of everything’ Peter sings on title track i/o – is a recurring motif, but so too the passing of time, mortality and grief, alongside such themes as injustice, surveillance and the roots of terrorism. But this is not a solemn record. While reflective, the mood is never despondent; i/o is musically adventurous, often joyous and ultimately full of hope, topped off as it is, by the rousingly optimistic closing song, Live and Let Live.  

Recorded mostly at Real World Studios and Peter’s home studio, the lengthy gestation of i/o means it has a sizeable cast list. Peter has kept his trusty inner circle of musicians close to hand, which means guitarist David Rhodes, bassist Tony Levin and drummer Manu Katché are sterling presences throughout. Several songs bear the fingerprints of long-time associate Brian Eno, whilst there are notable contributions from Richard Russell, pianist Tom Cawley, trumpeters Josh Shpak and Paolo Fresu, cellist Linnea Olsson and keyboard player Don E. Peter’s daughter Melanie contributes warm backing vocals, as does Ríoghnach Connolly of The Breath, while Real World regulars Richard Chappell, Oli Jacobs, Katie May and Richard Evans collectively provide programming and play various instruments. Soweto Gospel Choir and Swedish all-male choir Oprhei Drängar lend their magnificent harmonies to a selection of tracks, and the mass strings of the New Blood Orchestra, led by John Metcalfe, both soothe and soar.

Renowned for being a boundary-pushing artist, i/o is not simply a collection of a dozen songs. All 12 tracks are subject to two stereo mixes: the Bright-Side Mix, handled by Mark ‘Spike’ Stent, and the Dark-Side Mix, as reshaped by Tchad Blake. “We have two of the greatest mixers in the world in Tchad and Spike and they definitely bring different characters to the songs. Tchad is very much a sculptor building a journey with sound and drama, Spike loves sound and assembling these pictures, so he’s more of a painter.” Both versions are included on the double-CD package, and are also available separately as double vinyl albums. And that’s not all. A third version – the In-Side Mix, in Dolby Atmos, comes courtesy of Hans-Martin Buff “doing a wonderful job generating these much more three-dimensional mixes” and is included in three-disc set, including Blu-ray.

Continuing the idea developed for Peter’s US and UP albums, he has again invited a range of visual artists to contribute a piece of art to accompany the music and each of i/o’s 12 songs were handed to a world-renowned artist to create an accompanying work, whether paint, photography, sculpture or even Plasticine. The dozen artists make an exceedingly impressive team of collaborators: Ai Weiwei, Nick Cave, Olafur Eliasson, Henry Hudson, Annette Messager, Antony Micallef, David Moreno, Cornelia Parker, Megan Rooney, Tim Shaw, David Spriggs and Barthélémy Toguo. 

Another visual link with Peter’s past work is the cover shot. Taken by photographer Nadav Kander, it echoes with the covers of his earlier albums, always present but, with the exception of So, intriguingly obscured or manipulated. 

These echoes of the past might resonate, but i/o is fundamentally an album of – and for – the here and now. Many of its themes may be timeless, but they’re also warnings that we’re living on borrowed time, both as a planet and as individuals. 

(Source: Peter Gabriel's mailing list)

[nozomuaoyama]

SEKAI-ronpa, but make it a wheel.

...look, I don’t know these characters enough to write for them yet.

I’m spinning for cast (16 characters as is usual for DR), roles (protag, helper, rival, mastermind (which includes the people who aren’t in the cast)), cases, and which chapter the double murder may or may not be in. 

Cast:

Ichika Hoshino, Ultimate Guitarist

Saki Tenma, Ultimate Keyboardist

Honami Mochizuki, Ultimate Baker

Shiho Hinomori, Ultimate Bassist

Haruka Kiritani, Ultimate Idol

Shizuku Hinomori, Ultimate Model

Kohane Azusawa, Ultimate Singer

An Shiraishi, Ultimate Street Artist

Akito Shinonome, Ultimate Rapper

Touya Aoyagi, Ultimate Pianist

Nene Kusanagi, Ultimate Diva

Rui Kamishiro, Ultimate Roboticist

Kanade Yoisaki, Ultimate Composer

Mafuyu Asahina, Ultimate Nurse / Doctor

Ena Shinonome, Ultimate Artist

Mizuki Akiyama, Ultimate Fashionista

Protag: Shiho Hinomori

Helper: Honami Mochizuki

Rival: Haruka Kiritani

Chapter 1

Victim: Haruka Kiritani (whoops, we need a new rival)

Killer: Saki Tenma (I’m sorry Myth)

Rival: Kanade Yoisaki (...how does. how does this work?)

Chapter 2

Victim: Kanade Yoisaki (JESUS IT HAPPENED AGAIN)

Killer: Kohane Azusawa

Rival: Mizuki Akiyama

Chapter 3

Victim: Akito Shinonome (this was so close to landing on Shizuku oh my god)

Killer: Shiho Hinomori (...)

Protag: Ena Shinonome (looks like your brother dying gives you a lot of motivation)

Chapter 4

Victim: An Shiraishi

Killer: Ichika Hoshino (poor Honami, all her best friends are killers)

First chapter with no role swap! Let’s keep it up.

Chapter 5

Victim: Mafuyu Asahina (I can see it)

Killer: Rui Kamishiro (I can also see it. Less, but I can also see it.)

Chapter 6

Mastermind: Nene Kusanagi (This is actually pretty suitably dramatic. Also Tsukasa and Emu are probably dead by now, I don’t make the rules.)

Survivors

Honami Mochizuki [Helper]

Shizuku Hinomori

Toya Aoyagi

Ena Shinonome [Protag]

Mizuki Akiyama [Rival]

Wow MMJ! How come the wheel lets you have three survivors? (...survivors by technicality since the other two aren’t in the game but whatever)

[alexturne]

Arctic Monkeys: “We know more tricks now, but we’re still rolling on that same instinct” (NME feature)

After a glorious, but divisive, sonic shift, the Sheffield band double down with their lush new album ‘The Car’, proof that they’re ready to follow wherever the road takes them.

By Sophie Williams, 21st October 2022

From the outside of Suffolk’s Butley Priory, it sounds as though the ancient building is collapsing in on itself. Located within a secluded and rural pocket of southern England, it is the sanctuary of this converted 14th Century monastery that Arctic Monkeys have chosen to call home for a fortnight. Behind the stained glass windows, guitarist Jamie Cook is conjuring up a rousing squall, jiggling on the spot. His bandmates look on, eyes ablaze with excitement at the wall of noise unfolding before them.

It’s the middle of July 2021, and this is the Sheffield band’s final week at Butley Priory, where they’ve been working on ‘The Car’, their masterful seventh album. Prior to recording, the building had been part of the four-piece’s legend for some time: it’s where longtime producer James Ford – recognised amongst fans as ‘the fifth Arctic Monkey’ – celebrated his 40th birthday. Before they reunited here for the first time since lockdown, however, the band’s initial intention for the record was “to write louder songs than we had for some time,” says frontman Alex Turner, but quickly realised that this collection was evolving beyond a bedrock of heavy riffs. “I think what I found myself wanting to play when the band were around was actually very surprising to me,” he adds.

Every performance was recorded, with the results influencing what the band preserved, honed, and ultimately ditched. And for two weeks, the world outside of Arctic Monkeys’ temporary studio was well and truly banished. When the band – comprising Turner, Cook, bassist Nick O’Malley and Matt Helders on drums – were not walking around the wilds of the Suffolk countryside together, they shared pints and watched on as England’s journey at the pandemic-delayed Euro 2020 tournament played out. For a fortnight, time almost seemed meaningless. The gang were finally back together.

As Turner relays this story to NME, he’s about as far from that memory as you can get. We meet the frontman in an east London pub on a deceptively warm October afternoon a little over a year later, just as ‘The Car’’s release week is starting to kick off. Almost unbelievably, the band’s 2009 hit ‘Crying Lightning’ is playing quietly from the stereo downstairs, as if on cue. Considering that Turner is about to settle down for a drink – or, er, an English Breakfast tea – on the floor above, whoever is in charge of the playlist this lunchtime is blissfully unaware that they’ve managed to tempt fate. Turner looks too busy attending to his little china teapot to notice, anyway.

The group’s highly-anticipated reunion comes along with ‘The Car’, a 10-track collection that, in a five-star review, NME described as “a summary of the band’s story so far: sharp songwriting, relentless innovation and unbreakable teamwork.” Under the supervision of ensemble director Bridget Samuels [Midsommar, The Green Knight] at London’s RAK Studios, it’s the first album on which the band have worked with a full orchestra, allowing Turner’s voice – which sounds more brooding and malleable than it’s ever been – to pierce through a cinematic landscape of strings, piano motifs and low-slung bass rumbles.

Elegiac opener ‘There’d Better Be A Mirrorball’ immediately raises the stakes. A breakup tune that quietly anguishes over vanishing sensations of violin and harpsichord, the album’s lead single was the first to be demoed at Butley Priory. “And picture this: while recording, I’m running around with a 16mm camera that kind of kept me out of the way of everybody a little bit,” says Turner. He ultimately saved some of the footage for himself, and the rest was interspersed throughout the track’s understatedly retro video, making for a touching time capsule of that particular recording session.

Crucially, the new album – with the cover artwork shot by Helders – presents both a more cohesive and collaborative band than the one we heard on 2018’s divisive ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’. That record riffed on consumerism and technology with a burnished depth, but traded it’s wildly successful predecessor’s tsunami of bravado, riffs and hairgel – 2013’s multiple BRIT-winning ‘AM’ – for searching lounge-pop. Its writing credits reveal that most of the band were perhaps under-utilised as performers, given that O’Malley only appears on seven tracks, and Helders’ drumming is largely restrained.

‘The Car’’s daring centrepiece, ‘Body Paint’ flips the script entirely: you can practically hear Turner wink as he sings, “and if you’re thinking of me / I’m probably thinking of you”, before swirling atmospherics and O’Malley’s tumbling bass make way for a gale-force guitar solo from Cook. It’s the full-bodied sound of the Butley Priory trip, which was solely about having fun and bringing that feeling into the new record.

By throwing themselves into new, more daring sounds, Arctic Monkeys have emerged fearless, Turner says decisively. “The records we’re making now are definitely different now to the ones we probably thought we would be making when we started out – actually, we didn’t think we’d be even making records anymore,” Turner says. “20 years ago, I didn’t envision ourselves going beyond…” He looks deep into his cup of tea as if searching for the rest of his answer, while taking an enormous pause from which you fear he may never return. “Well, the fact we gave ourselves the name ‘Arctic Monkeys’ alludes to the extent of ambitions we had.” He stops again. “Clearly hardly any.”

Yet Arctic Monkeys’ friendship has endured, in part, because the band have always known when to say no. They built a fanbase on the basis of a few early demos shared by fans through MySpace, and before the four-piece signed with the independent Domino Records – also home to Wet Leg and Hot Chip – they’d already made a pact to never agree to their music being used in advertising. They even turned down a then-coveted offer to appear on Top Of The Pops. Weeks later, their monstrous debut single ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’ stormed to the top of the UK Singles Chart instantly – no mean feat for a band without major record label cash or mountains of press on their side. They’d set a precedent to follow their own rules, and it had worked.

Stardom would soon prove to be inescapable, however: the band looked perpetually shellshocked when they broke out as unassuming teenagers with their enduring and now-seminal debut album, 2006’s ‘Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not’. “Somebody call 999, Richard Hawley’s been robbed!,” Turner famously joked, as the band, looking somewhere between a haze of drunkenness and feeling flustered, collected the Mercury Prize later that year. The following decade would see them evolve into the UK’s biggest, most culturally important band: they have gone on to headline Glastonbury twice, perform at the London 2012 Olympics opening ceremony and, perhaps most importantly, have remained consistent, while their peers in sound have failed to keep similar longevity.

“When I think back to earlier times, I feel like we were just running on instinct, creative decisions included,” says Turner, with a gentle laugh. “I mean, like, first and foremost, we didn’t really know how to play our instruments at the start. But beyond that, I don’t really think that much within the band has changed a great deal; we might know a few more tricks, but we’re still rolling on that very same instinct.”

Dressed in a royal blue Lacoste jumper, Turner entertains NME for an hour with a boyish and mischievous charm; his few concessions to age include a formal, paisley-patterned silk scarf and some stubble. A gold link chain lays around his neck – a present from his grandfather that he’s worn everywhere since 2006 – and glints against the autumn sun. As he answers questions, Turner often leans back in his chair and starts re-enacting scenes, giving it some real gusto. No man this effortlessly funny is an accident – behind it all lies a bright, astute and often humorous songwriter.

Trying to discuss his lyrics – which, on ‘The Car’, are often uncharacteristically reflective – in the pub with Turner is a different matter, however, met mostly with some hesitant, yet endearing musings on personal growth. We briefly broach ‘Hello You’, which plays with high drama, and references Turner’s youth spent in north Sheffield – but like a big Hollywood production, what’s pizazz on camera is often pain behind the scenes. “I could pass for 17 if I just get a shave / And catch some Zzzs”, he sings at one point, only half-jokingly. “So much of this new music is scratching at the past and how much of it I should hang on to,” he says. “I think that song is pretty on the nose… as uncomfortable as that may be.”

It’s when describing ‘The Car’’s lushly arranged instrumental sections, however, that you can sense the cogs in Turner’s brain are starting to turn a little quicker. “Around the last album, the big story was like, ‘Wow, he’s got a piano’, which was true to an extent, but I wonder now looking at it, that it was this thing that I now do – recording ideas as you go – that got me going,” he says. His sudden excitement moves him to clench a trademark pair of black Ray Ban sunglasses so tightly in his hand, you fear there’s every chance they could suddenly snap.

Working on the album led to Arctic Monkeys scrapping their old rule that everything they recorded had to be playable live, opening up unseen possibilities. Turner experimented with the wah-wah guitar for both ‘Jet Skis On The Moat’ and the ridiculously funky ‘I Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am’ – think ‘Station To Station’-era Bowie meets ELO – the latter being the moment “where everything clicked,” he affirms. Where a younger Arctic Monkeys would have raced through punky verses with lethal precision, ‘The Car’ marinates in the textures of upward sweeps and subtle, honeyed soul.

As Turner speaks, it’s easy to picture the studio and imagine the Monkeys, once again, as teenagers in a garage: Turner the leader, Helders and O’Malley the jokers, Cook the near-silent but cunning sage – or, in Turner’s words: “Jamie remains the gatekeeper of the band, as it were.” These days, Cook is the brilliantly straight-faced foil – usually wearing a suit and sunglasses onstage, rocking gently from side to side as he churns out weighty riffs – to Turner’s loose, playful showman.

“I think that’s the key difference maybe with [‘The Car’] and the last record… perhaps we didn’t quite have a grasp of the dynamics of the bigger, newer sounds we were exploring,” he says. “But playing together live again certainly helped us to get there, and we developed a better awareness of each other. You find yourself in a different place when you take the songs to a new setting beyond where they were recorded.”

Even if ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’’s complete stylistic overhaul was curious enough to unsettle fans of the band’s louder, scrappier early days, Turner remains adamant that it was the right move for the group at the time. “I’m actually pretty happy with how it went down,” he says today. “We achieved something that we may not have been able to in the past. I think it definitely gave us the confidence to go to a different place on a record.”‘ The Car’’s ‘Sculptures Of Anything Goes’ – the band’s darkest song yet, a beast of distortion and weighty electronics – even nods to the public’s mixed response to ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’: “Puncturing your bubble of relatability with your horrible new sound”.

He alludes to how, despite ‘AM’ being the band’s most commercially popular album – having gone platinum in the US – with its West Coast rap-inspired cadences and bass-heavy melodies, it also felt like a bold revamp for Arctic Monkeys at the time of its release. “‘Do I Wanna Know?’ felt like a departure from everything that we had done before – and this was similar,” he says. “We had to almost acknowledge that our sound still had a little grease in its hair, and a bit of aggressiveness.”

Turner says, however, that when Arctic Monkeys played the 26,000-capacity Foro Sol venue in Mexico City in March 2019 as one of the final shows on that tour, it felt like a “brilliant send-off” to what had been their most artistically challenging period. Backstage at that same show, Turner began to “sketch out” demos for ‘The Car’, with the idea that they “could close our shows.” He continues: “I found this footage of me playing a song backstage at that gig, and I thought, ‘I’m going to bottle the energy for the new record.’ It was raw, and full of downstrokes guitar.”

The songs from Foro Sol were eventually scrapped, but if anything, that night proved that the ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’ era had certainly unlocked a more lighthearted side to the band than we had seen in several years. Clips of Turner pretending to lose his train of thought as the twinkling keys of ‘One Point Perspective’ fade out – in tandem with the song’s final lyric – have since been memed into oblivion. It’s a simple, yet persistently effective act: each time, he looks suddenly blank, scratches his chin, and points absently in the air as though trying to remember something. “I don’t think it’s even a choice at this point. When that spotlight centres itself on me, I just can’t help myself,” he says.

Why did the routine start in the first place? Turner’s face curls into a convincing knot of embarrassment. “You know what? I ask myself the same question every 24 hours,” he responds.

In August, Arctic Monkeys formally introduced their new era by headlining Reading & Leeds for the third time in their career, and drew in one of the festival’s biggest crowds in the process. Capping off a remarkable summer of huge outdoor shows across Europe, the weekend proved that a new, young, wildly committed generation of Monkeys fans had come to the fore, many of whom arrived via TikTok or streaming services, partly due to the recent stratospheric success of ‘505’ – the first Monkeys track to fully showcase their emotional depth as performers.

Lifted from 2007’s ‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ album, the surging indie-rock track has recently surpassed hits from Eminem and Coldplay, clocking in an average of 1.7 million plays a month on Spotify alone. The stats are even more impressive when you consider that the band have actively chosen to shun social media throughout their career – it’s almost as though they can’t help gaining worldwide attention.

For Turner, seeing audiences continue to react passionately to encore closer ‘505’ has been “genuinely moving”, but he’s bemused by the revival that has come around in the first place. “Without having ‘505’ at the end of our shows for a few years around 2008, I’m not sure if it would have found the new life it has now,” he says. “I hope that doesn’t sound like I’m taking credit [for the revival] – even if it wasn’t totally unexpected, the attention around [‘505’] is really quite special.”

Arctic Monkeys’ recent live performances have also seen them bring out rarities from their back catalogue, including a moodier rendition of ‘Humbug’ standout ‘Potion Approaching’, and ‘That’s Where You’re Wrong’, a fuzzed-out singalong from the unfairly overlooked ‘Suck It And See’ era. Switching up the setlist has made the band appreciate what they’ve achieved up to this point, Turner explains: “There’s quite a lot of room now for us to unlock songs and these other little things from the past,” he says. “I have almost, like, a PDF in my mind of what we could work on.” His eyebrow arches in confusion. “Wait, it wouldn’t be a PDF, would it? I think I meant to say a spreadsheet…”

It’s this endearing playfulness and intimacy to Turner that makes his disbelief at Arctic Monkeys’ current stature, 20 years into their career, seem genuine. Next summer, they’ll play a full stadium tour across the UK for the first time ever in their career, including two huge hometown shows in Sheffield at Hillsborough Park. Better still, there’s a Glasto-shaped hole in the touring schedule, too.

The scale of these shows is already toying with Turner: “It wouldn’t have made sense for us to play stadiums before this album, and I don’t think we were mentally ready for it up until now,” he says. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself and say that some of our songs ‘belong’ in a stadium, but they could definitely hang out in a stadium.”

He says that they won’t be taking a string section on the forthcoming tour; instead, the band will be assisted by extra keys and synth. Turner is confident that the new album will translate live, and goes on to liken the rich emotional depth across ‘The Car’ to the searing, heart-raising two-minute guitar breakdown that wraps up ‘A Certain Romance’, the crowning achievement from their debut album. “I remember when we were recording ‘A Certain Romance’ and having a conversation with the producer about the final guitar solo,” he says. “There’s something that happens at the end of that track where we break some rules in a single moment. We focused on the [emotional] effect of the instrumentals over the words – and I feel like we’ve been trying to do that again and again since then.”

Are you still proud of that song?

“Yeah,” he replies immediately. “If anything, for the fact that [‘A Certain Romance’] showed that we did actually have these ambitions beyond what we once thought we were capable of. Back then, we would struggle with the idea of adding anything more to the songs; but here, there’s some guitar that goes high, and then comes back in.”

Across the table, he begins to play the air guitar, gleefully wriggling around in his seat. For a moment, it’s as though Turner appears spookily untouched by time: eyes bright, wide, and inquisitive; a flash of youthful, riotous joy writ large across his face. He continues: “When we recorded [‘A Certain Romance’] we were all like, ‘Woah, woah, woah…” He raises his hands above his head once more. “‘What have we done here?’ Pushing the music that far out from what we’d done before initially felt contentious, to say the least.’”

Turner looks happy, calm and content, and he should be – he’s still goofing around on the world’s biggest stages, still making music with his childhood best friends, and caring less about critical reception and more about enjoying himself. ‘The Car’ may see Arctic Monkeys traverse a far greater distance from their zippy indie beginnings than ever before, but there are no regrets, Turner says, before trailing off into another warm anecdote from the time the band spent at Butley Priory.

“The excitement and energy of everybody being together, sharing ideas in the same room, was quite powerful,” Turner says, briefly moving his gaze to the table below. “I noticed that, for instance, when I think about how it felt saying goodbye at the end of that session…” He catches himself, and looks faintly misty-eyed – though he’d never let us see that properly.

Turner turns to face us once more. “It’s just… you know, the air totally changes when the rest of the band leave. I don’t quite know what to call it, but I do know that being around them is how to get that magic – and I haven’t ever found it anywhere else,” he says, with a knowing smile.

[sunburnacoustic]

Muse Fosters Community Between the Lines of Your Favorite Song

Rolling Stone Magazine spoke to Muse fans earlier this year in 2022 about how Muse bring together a community of fans

Kwasi Boadi, July 29, 2022

In our second Welcome Sessions feature with Jim Beam, we dig beneath the live music frills to explore how strangers in the crowd become quick friends by talking to the supergroup and their most passionate fans

There’s something so communal about going to a Muse show. The experience has a way of inducing a unique catharsis. On the one hand, it’s hard to ignore the tremendous feeling of it all, from the hypnotizing laser light show to the rousing pyrotechnics and the otherworldly visuals.

But beneath the (literal) flash and frills lies something much more intimate. Fans are embracing, fists are pumping, and in spurts, the audience takes on the role of lead vocalist while they roar the lyrics of their favorite records. In these moments, complete strangers become part of something much larger than themselves because there’s community to be found between the lines of your favorite song.

“Nothing beats being in the crowd with music fans when you don’t know what the setlist is,” says self-proclaimed superfan Helen Rose Tooth. “When they start bringing out the songs, and bring out some rarities, and everybody just comes together, you get picked up by the atmosphere.”

Rolling Stone caught up with Rose Tooth and a host of other Muse diehards at a secret homecoming show in Exeter, Devon. Hosted by Jim Beam as part of their Welcome Sessions event series, the intimate gig brought Muse superfans back to the Cavern, a cozy music venue in the South West of England where the band started out by playing for some of its earliest supporters: friends, family, and classmates.

When asked about her favourite song to see live, it only takes Rose Tooth a moment to land on “Definitely ‘Knights of Cydonia’” as her answer. Tom Kirk, a longtime friend of the band, doubles down on the sentiment. ’Knights of Cydonia’ is the ultimate fan singalong. I don’t think Matt needs to even stretch his vocal cords for that anymore because the whole crowd in the arena or festival [is] just bellowing it out. It’s an electrical force of people being completely tuned into the moment like nothing else exists.”

It’s easy to hear why the record elicits a range of emotions from the Muse faithful. The song kicks off with a spellbinding harmonica solo by bassist Chris Wolstenholme. Though everyone in the house knows what’s coming next, the anticipation builds like a roller coaster inching closer to its first big drop. Then, at the perfect moment, Matt Bellamy sends the audience into an auditory free fall once he interjects with a few crackling strums of his electric guitar.

When you’re singing along to lyrics that speak to you, that feeling you get is irreplaceable, and it runs much deeper when you look to your left and see a fellow fan sharing in that communion. There’s a bond created there, an understanding that the words that made such a pronounced impact on your life have struck a chord with someone on a similar frequency. At that moment, a would-be stranger feels more like a kindred spirit.

This belief that you truly feel connected when belonging to a community is rooted in Jim Beam’s two-century history of bringing people together, and that sentiment is evident in talking to another Muse superfan, Hannah Chandisingh. “You’re all in that together”, she says. “And when they break out these really powerful songs, when you actually realize that you and the person next to you are both in floods of tears, [there’s this sense that] ‘I don’t know you, but I love you.’”

It’s a feeling that can transcend language and borders. Danny Yeates has vivid memories of his first Muse show outside of the UK. “I went to Madrid for a VIP experience in 2016,” he recalls. “The fan base was just so different. This guy literally collared me, and [we] just started singing along. Generally, in the UK, it doesn’t really happen that way. The cultures are very different, but we’re here, and the universal language is Muse.”

Muse frontman and songwriter Matt Bellamy describes this lightning in a bottle as equal parts method and magic. “It’s hard to describe the emotions that you feel on stage. Spiritual, I guess some people could describe it that way,” he says. “It’s something otherworldly. Very connective with thousands of people.”

Early on, Bellamy realised he should pen his lyrics through the lens of inclusivity. “Over the years, [I realised that] you know what? I can actually play with this and start writing songs using ‘we’ pronouns instead of ‘I’ and singing about myself. ‘Uprising’ was the big moment where I was like, ‘I’m going to change this song. Instead of it being about me, I’m going to make it about us,’ and I sort of deliberately wrote the lyrics with that in mind.”

That communal spirit can be just as stimulating for the performer as it is for the audience. Muse drummer Dom Howard speaks warmly of that synergy. “It’s an amazing feeling,” he says. “It’s kind of this really reciprocal feeling of you enjoying what you’re doing and them enjoying what you’re playing. It’s a wonderful thing where you’re very much tuned in to each other and aware of how everyone feels.”

In the mind of a songwriter, that reciprocity is a catalyst for growth because feeling understood can be an invitation to push the envelope even further. Bellamy observes that, “there’s a vulnerability in songwriting because you’re digging into workings of your personality and expressions and experiences that you’ve had,” he says. “There’s a kind of confidence that emerges over time when you realise how many other people there are in the world that can relate to that. And over time, that actually gives you a bit more confidence to maybe dig deeper.”

[b-sai-des]

What to Take From Roger Waters' "Time" Redux

I’m a huge fan of Pink Floyd’s music and I love Dark Side of the Moon. It's a big year for the album, as a lot of people are celebrating its 50th anniversary this year. Pink Floyd released a remaster earlier this year, but Roger Waters (former Pink Floyd bassist and songwriter) has announced a "redux" of the original album as well, and not with the Pink Floyd members. I previously was not all that knowledgeable about the relationship between Roger Waters and the current members of the band. I had a general understanding of his role while in the band and knew that he and the band aren’t on the best of terms even now. I’ve also heard about his controversies regarding antisemitism and the Ukraine War. All this is to say that this made me very skeptical when I heard that about the redux. Is this really necessary, and is it motivated to be a sort of “fuck you” to David Gilmour and the others?

To Waters' credit, in his announcement he talked about how he wanted it to complement the original, not supersede it. He praised his work with his band members making the original, and said that he wants to gain something new from the concept and ideas of the original album. NME cited him saying in a press release that "...I started to consider what the wisdom of an 80-year-old could bring to a reimagined version." I was morbidly curious what this would be like, so I decided to take a look into the single for Waters’ version of “Time,” which he released last month. The original version of "Time" is one of my favorite songs of all time. I’ll admit that I went in cynical, but I tried to be open minded when I listened to this re-interpretation. Ultimately though I came out not too impressed, as the overall approach in this version seems to dampen its own potential to really distinguish itself from the original.

Here’s the new song: https://youtu.be/NcEHCVLMjAU?si=7uzb328PNX_du_OJ

In case you haven’t heard the original: https://youtu.be/Qr0-7Ds79zo?si=JJxUL7xPUMycPLuU

The main characteristic that many articles (like the NME one) have noted about the track is its atmospheric, low-key approach, drawing us in as we hear the straightforward spoken word introduction. “The voice had been there all along. Hidden in the stones in the rivers. Hidden in all the books. Hidden in plain sight. It was the voice of reason.” These new lyrics tie well into the theme of the song, time creeping up on you. It speaks to that new perspective, an older one who’s being reminded of the original’s message, truly closer to death. It’s quiet, just the deep piano and singular drum beat. Then comes in an acoustic guitar, piano and ambient synth. It elicits a more straightforwardly emotional tone, which I’m liking. The original version is more bombastic and it plays like a heightened version of the sadness that this song is trying to be more grounded in its focus on. The original felt elemental, primordial, speaking to eternal dread persisting infinitely, and this new version seems like it’s trying to make a more personal version of that.

Then the four drum beats together hit like how the original song did in its transition into the first verse. The bass and a slow drum beat are mostly all that’s accompanying the first verse, and there’s an occasional eerie piano that I really like. Low strings build up to the chorus, where the effect of double vocals on the production add the sense of a sober yet kind of hypnotic limp onwards. The words carry more weight with this, as if they’re echoing in the mind as time weighs down on you. The low strings are effective in emphasizing the sullenness. As the chorus ends and goes to the instrumental section, an organ and ambient high pitched synth of sorts joins in, and then another synth and strings add a level of contemplative sadness that’s unique. The organ seems to call back to the old times, it reminds me a bit of “House of the Rising Sun”.

But this instrumental section here doesn’t expand enough before returning to the next verse. When it went to the next verse, I didn’t feel the contrast that much, and it kind of blends together. The next verse’s more energetic violin feels out of place for the tone the song is trying to establish. I don’t want to suggest “what they should have done,” I’m not claiming any expertise, but as I kept re-listening to the track I felt myself wanting the instrumentals to build up more in some way. I like that they died down as Waters says “sinking,” emphasizing that word. At the same time, the music stays lower than the instrumental section for the rest of the song, so it feels like the build up from that instrumental section didn’t have a satisfying payoff. And when the strings and synth die down for the “Home again” verse, it doesn’t feel like there was a big enough contrast for that to have the seductive comfort that the original’s “Home again” had.

The goal of this redux seems to be staying low-key throughout, but that just feels like a detriment to the emotions this was trying to convey. One of the most impactful parts of the original song was whenever the big operatic vocals came in as the drum beat changed to a slower one. There, it felt like you were floating in slow motion, and the tragedy of time’s passing felt more impactful. That song feels dynamic in its different drum speeds and hard and soft parts. Despite being sung by an older man and with the same drum speed throughout emphasizing the hypnotic passage of time, the ambient instrumentals and strings of the new song feel constrained when they could have really had an emotional, raw sense of powerlessness. The vocals are kind of similar throughout as well. They work really well to convey the droning of time, especially the chorus with the double voice effect, but the “home again” ending portion feels too raspy and one-note, and Waters doesn’t seem to feel a particular sense of sadness here. Overall it feels kind of muddled and doesn’t hold your attention the way that Pink Floyd’s does. I don’t mean to judge the new version for having a different approach fundamentally to the old song. But, for me at least, one hits much harder emotionally than the other. Waters seemed to want to maintain the general polished-ness of the original as opposed to being more raw, but without the operatic grandeur that made the original’s pristineness work so well, I have to wonder what there is to gain.

I think my perspective on this might be colored by another re-imagining of another song by an older perspective – Johnny Cash’s world-weary reflective cover of the Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt.” Cash completely recontextualized the lyrics there and still did so in a generally low-key manner. Both Pink Floyd’s Time and Nine-Inch Nails’ Hurt have the angst of a younger voice that’s struggling immensely in their lives, and Cash turns that into the looming dread of a man nearing death. The thing that makes Cash’s version so memorable is its emotional vulnerability in all aspects. When the chorus comes the instrumentals rise to a climax and match the  lyrics, fully articulating its sense of desperation. With Roger Waters' Time, the instrumentals never get their chance to fully express that same level of emotion. The same goes for Cash’s vocal performance – he feels like he’s about to break, with his voice faltering in the chorus as the piano, guitar, and bass reveal the anguish that his voice seems like it’s struggling to conceal. It leaves me with chills every time.

Johnny Cash's "Hurt" cover: https://youtu.be/8AHCfZTRGiI?si=c67jhF_ZRAIN_F4B

"Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails: https://youtu.be/42V6ho11NSw?si=JOlWcZ7usUkXtgQi

I don’t mean to say that Waters’ “Time” is devoid of emotion or meaning. The general approach is interesting in fact, giving a more reflective, sullen tone. The thing though is that this feels really held back in its efforts to be so calm. I may be wrong or incorrectly judging the intentions and what Waters and the other musicians are doing here, and I am definitely projecting my own desires of what I would want from a "Time" re-imagining. Far Out Magazine said this of the track: "Waters’ version of ‘Time’ is slower, less intense, and more directly introspective than its predecessor. Waters sings the song in a low hum rather than the impassioned belting that David Gilmour brought to the song’s verses or the delicate whisper that Richard Wright brought to its choruses." I personally feel like that passion replaced with quiet introspection in turn has come at the cost of some of the track's emotional impact, at least for me personally.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! Let me know what you think about the “Time” redux. I’m open to different perspectives!

[fuckyeahvanhalen86-95]

VAN HALEN

LIVE: RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

TO MAKE VINYL DEBUT ON RECORD STORE DAY

4-LP Set To Celebrate The Classic Album's 30th Anniversary With Limited Edition Red Vinyl Version On April 22, Featuring Three Live Tracks Not Included On Orlginal Release

First Title In A Series Of Upcoming Vinyl Releases From Van Halen With Sammy Hagar Era

Van Halen's first live album -1993's double-platinum Live: Right Here, Right Now will make its vinyl debut on Record Store Day as a limited edition 4-LP set. Recorded in May 1992 as the band was wrapping up their massive world tour in the support of their classic, triple-platinum album For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge, the collection finds singer Sammy Hagar, guitarist Eddie Van Halen, drummer Alex Van Halen, and bassist Michael Anthony firing on all cylinders and delivering over two hours of Van Halen's signature hits.

LIVE: RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW Will be limited to 7,500 copies on 180-gram translucent red vinyl and available exclusively at select independent music retailers on April 22 for $99.98.

The vinyl collection has all 24 songs from the original CD release, plus three additional live recordings. This marks the first time that audio for two of the tracks ("The Dream Is Over" and "Eagles Fly") will be released, as they were previously available only on the DVD version of Live: Right Here, Right Now. The third, "Mine All Mine" was recorded in the summer of 1993 during the second leg of the tour and was previously released as part of a European CD maxi-single for a live version of "Jump." All tracks from the original live album were newly remastered from the 5150 Studio master tapes by Bernie Grundman, who also cut the lacquers.

The new vinyl verslon of LIVE: RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW Is the first Van Halen reissue that focuses on the Sammy Hagar-era. It also kicks off a serles of upcoming vinyl releases spotlighting Van Halen's time with Hagar, which will be overseen by the band's long-time engineer Donn Landee. Additional information about those releases will be announced in the coming months.

LIVE: RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW debuted 30 years ago, on February 23, 1993. The collection peaked at #5 on the Billboard 200 chart and sold more than two million copies in the U.S. alone.

The group filmed and recorded LIVE: RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW across two shows at the Selland Arena in Fresno, California on May 14-15, 1992. The result was a concert album packed with exhilarating live versions of Hagar-era hits like "Why Can't This Be Love," "Dreams," "When It's Love," "Finish What Ya Started," "Right Now" and "Runaround." The album also includes live versions of earlier Van Halen anthems like "Panama" "Ain't Talkin' 'bout Love" and "Jump."

LIVE: RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW gives each band member a chance to shine with Alex Van Halen's pummeling drum solo, Michael Anthony's "Ultra Bass" solo, and Hagar's acoustic version of his solo hit "Give To Live." One of the show's biggest highlights is Eddie Van Halen's ripping guitar solo. For more than 10 minutes, he lives up to his reputation as the ultimate guitar god with a solo that touches on some of his best- known instrumentals: "316," "Cathedral," and "Eruption."

LIVE: RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

4-LP Track Listing

LP1: Side A

"Poundcake" "Judgment Day" "When It's Love" "Spanked"

LP1: Side B

"Ain't Talkin' bout Love" "In 'n' Out" "Dreams" "Man On A Mission"

LP2: Side C

"Ultra Bass" "Pleasure Dome" / "Drum Solo" / "Panama"

LP2: Side D

"Love Walks In" "Runaround" "Right Now" "One Way To Rock"

LP3: Side E

"Why Can't This Be Love" "Give To Live" "Finish What Ya Started" "Best Of Both Worlds"

LP3: Side F

"316" "You Really Got Me" / "Cabo Wabo"

LP4: Side G

"Won't Get Fooled Again" "Jump" "Top Of The World"

LP4: Side H

"The Dream Is Over" "Eagles Fly" "Mine All Mine"

We reached out to Warner Bros for any additional info. They confirmed it was remastered, not remixed. This exclusive, limited release will only be available exclusively at select independent music retailers on April 22. We'll update this article as we hear more.

[upalldown]

Gorillaz - Cracker Island

Eighth studio album from Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett's virtual band featuring guest appearances from Bad Bunny, Beck, Stevie Nicks, Tame Impala, and Thundercat

8/13

The best Gorillaz albums play out a bit like mixtapes, with leader Damon Albarn's pop-rock Blur-isms going toe-to-toe with an ever-shifting collage of rap verses, interludes and eclectic genre dabbling. Cracker Island, on the other hand, is the project's most streamlined pop LP yet, with a tight 10 tracks that recall a more fully realized version of 2018's Albarn-centric tour album The Now Now. Cracker Island is themed around a cult run by fictional Gorillaz bassist Murdoc — but, truthfully, listeners are unlikely to follow any sort of storyline past the digi-funk of the title track, which features Thundercat's falsetto refrain of "forever cult." This opening track sets the tone for an album in which guests typically play a supporting role on fairly straightforward pop songs, rather than being the main attraction. Fleetwood Mac legend Stevie Nicks appears on the chugging "Oil" — but unlike, say Lou Reed's star moment on 2010's Plastic Beach, Nicks acts a backing singer, her witchy drama given a robo makeover during the layered chorus harmonies. Beck is similarly downplayed on the closing ballad "Possession Island," as he croons some call-and-response backup vocals. The Latin pop of "Tormenta," led by Bad Bunny, is the album's only real curveball. Cracker Island is the most focused and least eclectic instalment in the band's discography — and for that reason, it absolutely breezes by. Studio wizard Greg Kurstin's lush production sounds gorgeous on "Skinny Ape," its sleepily swaggering bass grooves exploding into Street Fighter-style double time in the back half, while Tame Impala's Kevin Parker sings his best chorus since Currents on "New Gold." The latter cut is Cracker Island's most quintessentially Gorillaz-y track thanks to a guest verse from Bootie Brown (who notably rapped on 2005's "Dirty Harry"). The only thing missing from Cracker Island is a truly classic single — something to compete with "Clint Eastwood," "Feel Good Inc." or "On Melancholy Hill" as an all-timer the band's catalogue. But even without that, it's a sleek, streamlined album that makes a case for the band's enduring relevance as genre-mashing trailblazers, even besting Blur as Albarn's ultimate contribution to the pop pantheon.

https://exclaim.ca/music/article/gorillaz_cracker_island_album_review

[burlveneer-music]

Muriel Grossmann - Universal Code

LINER NOTES OF UNIVERSAL CODE BY THOM JUREK Since 2007, saxophonist and composer Muriel Grossmann has been releasing albums of uncommon quality and depth. After arriving in Ibiza from Barcelona in 2004, she has created a distinctively individual approach to spiritual jazz. Building on a sound developed in the 1960s by the Coltranes and others, Grossmann's approach joins African music, modal jazz, gospel, blues, free-jazz and Eastern traditions with a fluid, nearly elastic polyrhythmic sensibility.

The Paris-born, Vienna-raised Grossmann believes our evolution towards enlightenment is already engraved in our being, our humanity. While physical DNA evidences it biologically, our path according to Buddhist belief, no matter how many lifetimes we inhabit, always moves towards an awakening that transcends, and ultimately frees us from DNA's biological limitations. Music, a form of communication that exists beyond spoken language transcends its own formally notated DNA. Grossmann employs her experiential and learned musical and life knowledge, linking them to a profound desire to ease the suffering of others, and to encourage evolution toward enlightenment and freedom.

This music on Universal Code is long on contemplative, instrumental dexterity, as well as harmonic and rhythmic invention. Its spiritual aspirations are articulated via interrogative melodies, poignant solos, and interwoven grooves that resonate inside the listener's ears, mind, and body. Universal Code features Grossmann's quartet on six tracks that bookend three ("Transience," "Essence," and "Non-Duality"), with a quintet that includes double bassist Gina Schwarz. Belgrade-born guitarist Radomir Milojkovic has been working with Grossmann since 2002. His rounded tone and endless curiosity add immeasurably to the group's questing approach. Serbian drummer Uros Stamenkovic and double bassist Gina Schwarz (herself an Austrian bandleader and recording artist) joined for 2016's Natural Time, trademarking the collective's unique approach. In 2018, Hammond B-3 organist Llorenç Barcelo, from the neighbouring island Mallorca, joined the band, appearing on 2019's Reverence, 2020’s Quiet Earth and 2021’s Union....

These musicians communicate an aural, instructive journey through emotions, spiritual states, doubt, and awareness collectively and individually. Universal Code is an achievement. It frames their utterances, questions and discoveries in a visionary yet warmly welcoming approach that exponentially extends the spiritual jazz tradition in the 21st century. ~ Thom Jurek, is an author, poet, and senior writer All-Music Guide. Muriel Grossmann saxophones Radomir Milojkovic guitar Llorenç Barceló hammond organ Uros Stamenkovic drums and Gina Schwarz upright bass on Non-Duality, Essence, Liberation Composed by Muriel Grossmann Painting by Ayelén, Iassù, Radomir, Muriel

[markee2013]

Newest Latest Podcast

Hey, how is everybody doing?Check out this Newest latest Podcast that's out and if you like what you hear then feel free to check out the websites to download some of the Music. I'm still working on new tracks for another album at the moment that might be coming out a little bit later than the fall I think. Thinking sometime in the new year. I also included another youtube clip of a fantastic Musician Bassist Bill Dickens. This guys slap technique is insane  definetly check him out .When i first saw him slapping the Bass i had to do a double take. https://youtu.be/rjz0KxdMxhM?si=o4-c1cMsm2qcpU3_ Also theres a listening party coming up for the album Re-Birth by The Ultimate Vibe Audio Music Orchestra .Have'nt selected a day yet but its coming. Lots to do at the moment. Before i go just wanted to mention a very good friend of mine who recently passed away this month .His name was Fred Alstrom a gentleman who i liked and had alot of respect for.I really admired and looked up to him in my teenage years. So there you have it. In the meantime feel free to check out my links to purchase some of my Music  

https://seriousnubian.bandcamp.com/

https://payhip.com/UltimateVibeAudioMusicProductions

You can also order your Music by sending me an e-mail @ marcusdavis40@yahoo.ca

Send me your order and I will e-mail you back the MP3 Music File to download

All payments are thru either Paypal or Interac

Again thanks alot for your support and don't forget to check out my Podcast by going to

https://ultimatevibeaudiomusicproductions.buzzsprout.com www.marcusdavis2.bandzoogle.com/home Also go to https://www.patreon.com/basszombie2011. https://www.launchpadone.com/pd/Ultimate-Vibe-Audio-Music-Productions https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-ultimate-vibe-audio-music-186126462/ Maintain The Groove  Stay Funky !!

[chrisryanspeaks]

The Decemberists' Epic Return with ‘As It Ever Was, So It Will Be Again’ + New Single!

The Decemberists' new album, As It Ever Was, So It Will Be Again, is set to release on June 14th via YABB Records (Thirty Tigers). Marking their 9th studio album after a six-year hiatus, this remarkable double album is produced by lead singer Colin Meloy and Tucker Martine and features guest appearances from The Shins’ James Mercer and REM’s Mike Mills. Pre-orders are available today. As It Ever Was, So It Will Be Again is not only the longest Decemberists album to date but also their first intentional, proper double-LP, split into four thematic sides. The 13 songs serve as semaphores of mutual recognition for our fraught times and faint hopes. Tracks like "The Reapers" explore existential slog and capitalist vexation, "America Made Me" delves into opiated delusion and jumbled jingoism, while "All I Want Is You" offers guileless tenderness and absolute surrender. This album is a redemptive testament of a band finding new communal hymns by revisiting several old modes at once. Meloy proudly declares it the best Decemberists album yet, perhaps the ultimate realization of 22 years of work. The album resonates with the urgency and ardor of the present more than ever before. The band first teased the new album with the single “Burial Ground.” Flood Magazine declared, “The Decemberists are so back,” and Paste Magazine noted, “‘Burial Ground’ revives the band’s warm, familiar folk-rock sound.” The track features buoyant vocals by Meloy over twinkling instrumentation, with loose guitar and flourishes of horns adding a Beach Boys-style vibrancy. They followed up with a 19-minute prog rock epic titled “Joan In The Garden,” and a potent love song called “All I Want Is You.” The Decemberists are currently on an expansive North American tour with both spring and summer legs. Highlights include The Salt Shed in Chicago on May 21st and the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville on May 24th, concluding on August 3rd at McMenamins Edgefield in Troutdale, OR. All tickets are on sale now, with a full list of tour dates available. For 20 years, The Decemberists have been one of the most original, daring, and thrilling American rock bands. Founded in 2000 when singer, songwriter, and guitarist Colin Meloy moved from Montana to Portland, Oregon and met bassist Nate Query, keyboardist Jenny Conlee, and guitarist Chris Funk, The Decemberists' distinctive brand of hyperliterate folk-rock set them apart from the start with their debut EP 5 Songs in 2001. After making their full-length debut with Castaways and Cutouts in 2002, the band signed with Kill Rock Stars for the release of acclaimed albums Her Majesty the Decemberists (2003) and Picaresque (2005), produced by Chris Walla. The 2004 EP The Tain – an 18-minute single-track epic – showcased the band’s grand creative ambitions. Read the full article