#brilliant bassist and a brilliant drummer

[melit0n]

iii doing a bit of drumming has my whole heart 😭

Credits: Tash Music -> yt

[vivwritesfics]

Electric Dream Machine

Electric Dream Machine is just opening for Papaya until the release of their first album. Logan just enjoys being around Papayas guitarist

Viv's AUgust Event

(Banner by @nurse-floyd )

It was a temporary arrangement, something they had to do before they made it big themselves. Just while their album was being made.

The tour with Papaya wasn't all bad. He'd grown up alongside their bassist, Oscar, and Lando wasn't all that bad once you got to know him. Carlos was an interesting guy, a lot to deal with when he and Lando were together. Their guitarist was Logan's favourite, but he'd never admit to that. It didn't help that she was pretty.

Electric Dream Machine was a stupid band name. When their manager, James, had approached the four of them, they'd protested. But it was Electric Dream Machine or hit the road.

The music was theirs, and that was all that mattered. The name might have sucked, but the music spoke for itself. Lance's dad was helping fund the creation of the album and paying for them to follow Papaya on tour, opening for them.

The perks of having a ultra rich drummer.

Logan wasn't the most social person in the world. He wasn't rude by any means, but he wasn't the best with people. Shy, the was it. He was shy. Even on the Papaya bus, he sat on his own as Alex, George and Lance sat with Lando, Carlos and Oscar.

The Papaya guitarist was somewhere on the bus, Logan didn't know where. He tried not to make it look like he was looking around for her, but he couldn't help it. She was always kind to him, always going out of her way to include him in conversations.

"Hey."

When had she sat down next to him? A blush covered his cheeks as he slightly turned his head towards her. He couldn't look her in the eye as she sat back, legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankle. "Why aren't you over there?"

Logan shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't feel like it," he answered and copied her pose. Legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle.

She gave a nod. "How is the album coming along?" She asked him, voice sincere.

Logan gave her a small smile. The album. It was a topic he loved talking above more than anything. So many of the songs on the album were his. Don't Stop, Greenlight, Wherever You Are, Never Be, Lost Boy, they were all his.

He was actually animated as he spoke. It was lovely to see, had her grinning as she listened. Seeing Logan like this made a nice change to his usual demeanour.

"I can't wait to hear it," she said when he was done.

His blush deepened. "You wanna listen to it?"

The scoff she released had him worried for a second, but she punched him in the shoulder in that comforting way. "Hell yeah I wanna listen to it! You guys are great!" She insisted. Her smile was so damn sincere, Logan couldn't get enough of it.

The conversation went on. She asked about the name, Electric Dream Machine, and Logan didn't blame her for that. He knew the name sucked, too.

"You guys got any merch yet?" She asked, looking around as they pulled into the venue. Logan gave a nod. "Brilliant, I want a shirt," she said and stood up.

Their shirts were embarrassing. The four of them stood with their instruments with 'Electric Dream Machine' printed behind them. But she wanted it, so Logan gave it to her.

***

"You're not seriously wearing that tonight, are you?" He asked as he followed Lance, George and Alex off stage. He placed his guitar on the stand and looked around.

There she was, wearing the Electric Dream Machine shirt Logan had given her before the set. When he'd given it to her, it had been white. But there was a lipstick stain just above Logans head. His breath caught in his throat.

"Go away, Carlos," she said with a sickly sweet smile as she picked up her guitar.

She went out on stage with the Electric Dream Machine shirt covering her body. It was quite a sight, and it had Logan unable to take his eyes off of her.

It wasn't right for them to be together on the tour, was it? Her band was so much more successful than his, and Logan didn't want her to think he was using her.

As the tour went on, she got flirtier with him. But Logan kept his distance. He liked her, obviously he liked her, but refused to do anything about it.

The remainder of the tour was miserable for the both of them. Hopeless pining that would never be anything more.

[frogpols]

You talked about many AUs, but i would like to know if you have a main idea you think about how kiraboss met for the first time, is kinda hard for me to think about it without putting a lot of casuality on it

Also this is bassist kira and drummer boss!

LEL That is a brilliant gif, litcherally them, thankies for sharing this peak.

And that is a brilliant thingie to talk about. I may go on about AUs just because there are many ways (whether fairly believable and canon-compliant, or just silly and casual) that Kira and Diavolo could meet, and a bunch of various ideas in the way they'd actually interact in said meeting (or beyond). But of course, that's a given for ships involving characters that are never shown to have met. I do find that huge amount of room for creativity very intriguing.

Anyway, if I were to put something at the top of what seems believable (ie, what'd seem like a natural extension to the source material, less random), it'd be post-canon Kiraboss. In their latest depictions (I'm fairly confident DMQ is canon), they're both shown to be in a very peculiar purgatory state that no other named character from what I recall is fated to, let alone among the main antagonists (they just float to the sky (die), be entirely erased, or literally stay alive on the same existential plane forever). Given that unique inherent connection between those two major characters specifically, I thus think it wouldn't be super random/casual(?) for them to... well, be connected or perhaps form some deep kinship in a hypothetical JoJo spinoff. There'd be purpose in a story like that since there'd be the opportunity to expand upon the ghost/afterlife logic in the overall JoJoverse. (Not to mention kira and boss redemption if we may sympathize with them...)

Now, if we were to go earlier so that we can have the original Kira and Diavolo as Kiraboss, they can very well meet pre-canon, maybe even be close, and their correspondence (casual or deep) wouldn't have to interrupt their main stories. But while I don't believe anything is stopping Diavolo from going to Morioh through Doppio (since I'd reckon they can travel pretty easy with mafia swag and moola), I don't know what reason he could have to do so. A super flimsy stretch I could make is Tonio Trussardi/Antonio Volpe since he is adjacent to Passione's Massimo from PHF, but obviously PHF is not very canon and you'd still have a lot of stuff to fill out to justify Diavolo's connection to Morioh, all to potentially encounter Kira. In other words, pre-canon Kiraboss may be more random than post-canon Kiraboss, at least story-wise and not just for their given (huge) list of similarities. Buuuut at least it is possible. It's a whole other thing on whether or not they'd get along. Since they have to be alive for their story to happen, they'd have to not kill each other in the pre-canon meeting instance. This is where an old fanfiction idea I had a long while back comes in...

Uhhh, I guess briefly(?) going over that (since I reckon it's as close to what my 'main idea' for what feasible kiraboss looks like), the fic was going to be called "Yoshikage Kira and Diavolo's Bizarre Backstory" and combine both of the above ideas in this post: pre-canon and post-canon Kiraboss (with focus on pre-canon). The idea for the fic would be that they both meet, develop feelings (super slow burn style), and heavily influence each other to act the way they do in canon (so that there would be a convenient difference in their behaviors between when they initially met each other vs. when they'd meet another stand user in the future separately). Basic plot was: They meet in Morioh (Kira likes Doppio/Diavolo's hands) -> Stand battle (whole thing with Diavolo initially struggling with Kira's stupid SHA, but he learns quickly) -> They form hesitant truce (Diavolo thinks Kira could be very useful, and Kira surrenders) -> They are very stubborn (Kira doesn't want to join mob, and uhh somehow Diavolo's convinced he needs him LUL) -> Insert very ambiguous kind of tsundere/tsundere relationship here, perhaps they have sex (they wouldn't be very good at it) -> Diavolo goes back to Italy and Kira never snitches -> Ensue canon and they die -> They meet again not remembering each other at all and post-canon kiraboss begins. I know I have the ability to sit down and write a proper fanfic ....but I don't feel like it as of now, just as I am with projects. :d Hell, I started that Kosaku-Doppio swap fanfiction (idea I put some time ago on this blog), and plots completely written out, but only at barely two chaps, 4.7k words. Oh yeah, I believe that old animatic I just posted on this blog too was meant to reference the fanfic concept where Kira's just yearning after Diavolo's left.

Sooo yeaah, hehe

[krispyweiss]

Song Review: Tori Amos - “Cornflake Girl” (Live)

With plenty of crowd noise in the mix and a trio that sounds like a quintet, Tori Amos captured the feeling of being there on her new, in-concert iteration of “Cornflake Girl.”

Recorded on Amos’ 2022-’23 tour with bassist Jon Evans and drummer Ash Soan, the track announces the Dec. 6 release of Diving Deep Live and finds Amos ridiculously busy on piano and keyboard while doing her best to recreate the song’s intricate vocal arrangement with a single voice; no effects but plenty of affect.

The result is a grand exercise in jamming without losing sight of the original composition. It’s brilliant, actually, in Amos’ uniquely iconoclastic way.

Grade card: Tori Amos - “Cornflake Girl” (Live) - A

11/12/24

[thislovintime]

The Peter Tork Project. Photo by Michael Ventura.

Though I posted the photo previously (also with the watermarks removed), it's the only color photo of The Peter Tork Project that I know to be available online... so, here's a concert review to accompany it this time around:

“During the performance by THE PETER TORK PROJECT last Friday night at Patrix, there was a phalanx (yes, that is the proper word) of Monkees fans behind me who kept shouting, ‘DO MORE MONKEES SONGS!’ […] I really wished the Monkees fans would have shut up. […] The PETER TORK PROJECT’s new material is strong enough to stand by itself. If nothing else, it’s certainly different from The Monkees. Tork shows that his brain hasn’t been going soft in the years since he left the Monkees in 1969. He delivered his self-penned ‘U.S. Out of El Salvador’ (No draft no war U.S. out of El Salvador) with chant-like vocals reminiscent of a folkier Clash. […] Though his patter between songs is still silly and self-deprecating, there’s a serious undertone to a lot of his material, to go with the added wrinkles on his face. He introduced one of his songs with ‘Here’s a song about life in the breakdown lane. You’ve heard about the fast lane. Well, this is what comes after that.’ The song was quite moving, definitely, I would venture, autobiographical. […] Tork allowed the other band members to write their own material and do lead vocals on their individual songs, which is a refreshing blast of modesty from someone as famous as Tork. The band, as musicians, are just superb. Jerry Renino is a solid, supportive bassist, Derek Lord is a tight, showy drummer, and Scott Avitabile embodies the best of 60’s guitarists of the Black Sabbath variety to 70’s guitarist of the Van Halen variety. […] THE PETER TORK PROJECT’s best original songs sound like [Neil] Young’s brilliant work from the mid-70’s with the band Crazy Horse. The songs have the same mellow, folkie vocals juxtaposed with crunching, almost heavy metal-like guitar playing.” - Bill Dale-Marcinko reviews The Peter Tork Project’s concert, The Central New Jersey Home News, September 29, 1983

[manekijinx]

Three more Hi-Fi Rush OCs from a personal project of mine! Introducing Mikan, Paprika, and Dr. Camembert.

More info on these guys below!

Just a bit of lore! These guys are connected to the OCs I posted over here.

Mikan is Yuzu's younger sister! She's 19 and the lead singer/bassist of her indie rock band, Harmonia Rocket (ハルモニアロケト). They had started off with a pretty small following but have had a big boom in popularity in recent years. Yuzu used to play drums for the band before their current drummer joined. ✨

Paprika is Vandelay Security's top unit with prodigy level skill in combat and leadership. She's been recognized by Korsica as her most efficient and competent guard and is often tasked with the jobs that require an expert's attention. She volunteered for Project Armstrong to replace a paralyzed leg and is now capable of the gymnastic level athleticism she formerly was in highschool. She and Cayenne volunteered for the project without knowing the other had, making for a very awkward reunion after years of not seeing one another.

Dr. Camembert is one of Vandelay's most brilliant minds. He assists in conducting studies involving robotic implants and neurological technology. However, despite his expertise, he's often kept in his lane by Roxanne Vandelay due to his bizarre interest in the removal of human necessities for the body in favor of achieving "peak efficiency". He was kept under Macaron's watch for most of his time working at Vandelay Technologies, but was left with a bit more leeway when Kale took over the company and replaced Macaron with Zanzo. Nowadays, with Roxanne back at the helm, he's once again kept in check, but now has a body much more cybernetic than she last saw him.

[slopofaarix]

(eternal thanks to the brilliant Roqi for creating this exquisite band photoshoot)

[eleni-cherie]

on another note, i really have to share ashton's new album (or at least the first part that got released) for a second as i just can't contain myself bc it's brilliant. a fcking banger. bop after bop. literally no skips. boy's a drummer, guitarist, bassist, pianist, componist, lyricist, producer - he's everything damn

just love the overall sound and aesthetic.

the mvs are also fcking cool.

[beyondthegame]

• always giving the utmost attention to the other if they are in a crowd + E!

I love these prompts. I always learn so much about the ROs.

There’s sweat dripping down E’s forehead, their white t-shirt is half-drenched and there’s a wide grin on their lips. You can see the feeling of euphoria in their eyes. There aren’t many times that E feels complete, pure bliss—but being on a stage, like they are right now, has the ability to do that to them.

Even more so when they spot you in the crowd.

By the end of their performance E and their band are stumbling off stage with tired eyes but fluttering hearts. E quickly loops their arms around their bassist and drummer as the rest of their band saunters beside them.

“Because you brilliant and sexy people are the best band I could ever ask for,” E begins, “I’m buying you all—“

Their drummer gasps. “Tickets to Ibiza?”

E arches a brow. “I was going to say I’ll buy you unlimited drinks at the local pub, but…” They laugh. “First class tickets abroad it is.”

Their drummer leans over and pats E’s cheek. “You, Acevedo, are by far the best musician I’ve worked with.”

“Yeah? Be a babe and tell the press that for me,” E utters.

When they all wander into the lounge, E’s eyes immediately look for you. It’s somewhat crowded in there, but they’re surrounded by their favourite people in the world so it doesn’t bother them too much.

It takes them a moment but their eyes instantly brighten when they find you. E grins and approaches you. “Hello.”

“Hi,” you murmur with a similar smile, one that turns into a teasing one when E leans down to hug you. You place a hand on them. “You’re all sweaty.”

E grins. “Yeah, but ‘hot pop star’ sweaty. Not hot ‘I just ran around for ninety minutes’ footballer sweaty,” they tell you.

You roll your eyes before pulling them forward for the hug they were waiting for. “All I got from that was that you think I’m hot.”

E takes a seat beside you, their arm still around you. “Hm, you know I think that about you,” they say softly with their gaze on you. “I think many thoughts about you.”

That’s the kind of confidence E usually has, even more so when they come off stage. They can still feel the buzz and the thrill, and maybe it’ll wear off tomorrow morning but right now it’s exhilarating.

“They’re right, you know,” E’s drummer says to you with a drink in their hand. They take a swig and point between the two of you. “Half the time you’re all E talks about. It’s the same reason they’ve written a song about y—“

“Do you not want to go to Ibiza?!” E quickly interjects with narrowed eyes.

Their drummer laughs. “Of course I do,” they say before their gaze flits between you and E again. “But, right now you’re all lovesick and I’m trying to help you make a move so—“

“Fuck off!” E groans, all whilst a laugh escapes you.

“So you’re lovesick and wrote a song about me?” you tease, leaning closer into E to see tinges of embarrassment visible over them.

E wets their lips, only continuing to look at you. “My band just likes seeing me flustered.”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” you shoot back.

E hums. “You know how I feel, there’s no need for me to.”

“And what if I want to hear you say it?”

Their fingers rhythmically tap against your shoulder, as though it’s the beat to a song, a soft smile toying on their lips. “You’ll hear me say it. I promise you you will.”

[ijustwantedtobeoneofthestrokesuk]

Time For Heroes

London

The Strokes might have been the leaders of this new generation of “indie” but The Libertines were already causing chaos in the capital…

Jay McAllister (Beans On Toast) “The Libertines were very important. They took it to a wider audience and soundtracked it.” 

If you were looking for the sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll cliche for the 21st Century The Libertines ticked all the boxes. A band who were constantly on the edge of self-destruction but brilliant when they were on form. Charming, poetic, funny, punk, loveable, mythical, The Libertines had it all, they understood the internet, they used it to create a community with their fans but their downfall (mostly drug-related) was played in the press like a soap opera. 

Alfie Jackson (The Holloways) “The Strokes and The Libertines are two of the most influential bands of the last 20 years. Everyone was inspired by these 2 bands, there was a lot of shite music between Oasis and the arrival of The Strokes.” 

Like with The Cribs, who were unconsciously making music in their bedroom in Wakefield that would become the new era, The Libertines were on a similar path in London. It wasn’t until they heard and saw The Strokes that things fell into place for The Libs. Once romanticising poetry, wordsmiths and old-school comedy while being notorious in underground London, Pete Doherty and Carl Barat’s sound took a new direction. 

Carl was at uni studying drama in 1997 when he met Pete who was visiting his sister, who was living with Carl. Pete was a dreamer, he loved football, The Smiths and Oasis, he was in awe of Carl and his skill with a guitar. The teens clicked instantly, their friendship was intense. They ended each other's sentences however, they fell out over petty things too. Carl had no interest in music, being in a band or fame but Pete's enthusiasm pushed him into it.

They lived in grotty flats, shared a single mattress and blagged their way through life. Their first gig was at their flat, then they would host cabaret nights in pubs. Pete craved attention, Carl would need booze to get on a stage and their lineup was ever-changing. In the summer of 2001 The Libertines were fizzling out, singer Scarborough Steve was skint and left London while bassist John Hassall went back to school to do his A-Levels. Johnny Borrell briefly stepped in but there were already 2 stars in the band, there wasn’t room for a third. Mr Razzcocks, a drummer in his 50’s completed the line-up but he was giving up on Pete and Carl’s mystical Albion dream too. 

When Gary Powell, a session musician who’d just finished drumming for Eddie Grant was introduced to Pete and Carl by friend (and Libertines manager) Banny Pootschi the 3 immediately hit it off. They bonded over jazz and The Beatles, Gary was drawn to Pete and Carl’s relationship. They were fun to be around and as Mr Razzcocks left the band they needed a drummer, Gary jumped in, he was immediately impressed with the songs Pete and Carl had written, band practice was fun at first, just another extension to hanging out at the pub. John returned after the 3 of them started playing together, Pete and Carl would share bass duties on stage in the meantime. 

The Libertines are a 4-piece but it’s the frontmen that make them exciting, you never knew what you were going to get. The times when Pete was absent (jail or drugs) it just wasn’t the same (they did regret continuing without Pete when he was kicked out of the band in 2004 but they couldn’t afford to cancel). There was something captivating about seeing the double-act share a mic on stage and wrestle for attention. Pete and Carl had a special relationship. They were obsessed with each other, jealous of each other over the most trivial things, inseparable at times, brothers and lovers, always fighting to be in the limelight. They would argue who was the better songwriter but they would also be a comedy duo, Pete was highly intelligent and charming while Carl was intense. It was this relationship that made The Libertines, they were a gang with 2 leaders, 2 very different leaders.  

Steev Burgess (lyricist and collaborator with John Hassall and The April Rainers) “I met them as “people'' first, rather than as a band. John and Carl worked in the theatre serving drinks, selling programmes and ushering alongside 3 other friends of mine and I frequented late-night bars like Shuttleworths and the Soho arts bar where all the theatre people went. 

In my first conversation with John we got chatting about music over a drink and bonded over a mutual liking of The Beatles and The Kinks. I was impressed with his knowledge of the lesser-known bands of the 1966-68 era like Tomorrow, as most people I'd met didn't know of them. 

I worked a lot at night back then, so I only saw The Libertines sporadically and they were growing more wild, punky and The Strokes like. When the first album came out I could hear the melodies coming through too and I knew it was a bit special. One thing that set them apart was the mythologising about the Good Ship Albion seeking Arcady and such. I liked that a lot and how it came through in songs like "The Good Old Days". At the same time, it was very real, with songs like "Time For Heroes" referencing the wild Mayday events and riots of those days, and Pete's quirky turns of phrase.” 

The Libertines quickly gained a reputation for being a bit wild and drugs crept in which destroyed the band on many occasions. Both Carl and John dabbled in heroin in the early days, it was when the touring got demanding that Pete started using, initially to calm his anxiety, but he got hooked.  

Gary was involved in several projects already, he was experienced and focussed, exactly what Pete and Carl needed so when he dropped his other bits to concentrate on The Libertines he pushed them to work hard, practice and be the best they could be. Pete and Carl were skint, they were sleeping on friends' couches so they put their lives into the band. Gary occasionally offered advice into their songwriting but it was rarely needed. 

Gemma Clarke (Babyshambles) “The Libertines changed everything. They created a scene, a vibe, a gang. Everyone felt part of that gang! They were accessible, beautiful poets. Still are.” 

Pete’s obsession with The Smiths put a record deal from Rough Trade as a priority. They had a gig booked at The Rhythm Factory in Whitechapel which James Endeacott from Rough Trade was coming to but they had no equipment. After begging and borrowing from friends it was a mess, Pete and Carl took turns with the bass, guitar strings broke, the drum kit was a shambles but James saw something in them and signed them. After years of testing and trying, the good ship of Albion finally set sail and Rough Trade had the UK’s answer to The Strokes. London was burning.   

Bill Ryder-Jones (The Coral) “The Strokes changed everything but The Libertines gave something to England. Not the England we as The Coral we arsed with but it was special.” 

After signing the deal in December The Libertines released their first single, a double a-side What A Waster/I Get Along, produced by Bernard Butler from Suede in June 2002. 

Conor McNicholas “The Libertines were organic, so ramshackle and it wasn’t a major label, it was Rough Trade, they were a passion project, mostly driven by James Endeacott who was a massive Sex Pistols fan back in the day and for him, The Libertines were the new Sex Pistols, and, in a way, they were. They were driven by belief, there was no hype machine. They were almost pre-Strokes and Stripes, they weren’t necessarily influenced by them.  

Any press person who has worked with The Libertines has just tried to control them, they generated stories themselves, and publicly, we were all over it. That soap opera that they created was a godsend for a weekly magazine. We were connected to, getting exclusives, it was proper journalism, to make sure we were outside prison when Pete came out, no other press were out there because no other press knew it was going to happen. We were on the inside, our job was to be part of it and tell the story. Pete and Kate’s relationship was a weird one, he became a hotter property and it gave the mainstream press something to talk about at Glastonbury as Kate was with somebody from our world. Suddenly Pete was being covered in Bizarre columns as much as he was in the NME but we still got the exclusives.  

The Libertines defined the London scene and inspired a load of bands who followed. We were checking .org (The Libertines online fan forum) all of the time.” 

Dave McCabe (The Zutons) “I saw The Libertines at the Zanzibar they were great a lot going on, a lot of chaos but they had this energy about them.” 

They rehearsed for the debut album at a studio on Caledonian Road, Mick Jones from The Clash met them before recording and they all got on from the start. They had never properly recorded before going to RAK Studios for the Up The Bracket sessions. The album isn’t slick and luscious but it wasn’t supposed to be. Mick wanted to capture the raw, energetic feel to it, charged with emotion. He would get the band to play the songs over and over again until they were comfortable with it enough that it would sound natural. It was relentless as they recorded 22 songs in 5 days. Gary is a perfectionist whereas the others were happy with mistakes as it captured a moment.  

Ronnie Joice “I saw a live performance on Jools Holland of their title track from their debut album, Up The Bracket. Fuck me, it hit me like a bolt out of the sky. Somewhere, somehow, the stars had aligned at this moment. The opening noise that Pete Doherty makes, somewhere between coughing up phlegm and an actual lung, rang bells of celebration in my ears. 

I was hooked immediately… watching this scuzzy, frenzied performance with my pulse racing, realising I had found something fucking special. Despite listening through my tinny, very shitty laptop speakers, an audiophile I was not. I felt like I’d discovered the greatest fucking band in the world. 

Being well-versed online already, it didn’t take long for me to discover The Libertines forums. There were two, the .org version which wasn’t as user-friendly, and the org.uk one which was a lot more annoying for adults, but as a pretentious teenager, perfect fodder for my incessant posting and allowed me to indulge myself in every band cropping up from that scene. 

I literally lapped up every single band I could listen to. I hadn’t really given parlance yet to how good things were, obviously, certain stuff hit me quicker. I also indulged myself in all the Libertines demos, Legs XI etc, the Babyshambles demos and readied myself for the release of the second album…

The community The Libertines created online translated into a fucked-up, warped ‘safe space’ for a lot of disenfranchised, lost young people in the 2000’s. Their early gigs were easily accessible, but I was still too young to go, and also, I got into them between the first and second record. 

However, their legacy lived on for many years past and while publications like Vice have mocked that legacy, at the time they were truly bastions of a really important subculture for kids like me. Kids who knew there was more to life than getting a job in insurance, your first car at seventeen, and saving for a mortgage before you were thirty. 

Part of me wishes I’d done all that, I’d be a lot less fucking anxious as an adult but I also am so thankful I lived that fast life chasing the Albion dream with so many other kids. 

The first-ever London gig I went to was Pete Doherty playing a huge outdoor gig for free in Trafalgar Square, for Love Music Hate Racism the summer before I started the second college I went to, in Worthing. I went with a mate who wanted to see the grime acts like Roll Deep and Lethal Bizzle on the bill below him. 

That day, I probably made more friends who spoke to me and I felt I had more in common with, than from an entire year at a college in Horsham. London kids grow up quicker than country kids, and their parents all seemed to be more liberal when it came to them staying out late and I suppose they were just happy their kids were coming home safe with their pals.

The London indie scene allowed me that exit from home life, and I could indulge myself in an exciting world, that seemed free from peril. It's interesting to realise that, years on. I don’t think any of the kids who I hung around with had come from easy backgrounds, there were a few who were a bit more comfortable than others financially, and as the scene became more mainstream obviously the posh kids lapped it up but at the beginning, it felt like most of my peers were from working-class, lower-middle-class backgrounds. 

We were kids who were just soaking up being young and free, at the perfect age you could do that with little to no responsibility. It felt beyond liberating to leave Storrington each time, and it would depress me as soon as I returned. London stole my heart and presented to me the reality that you could be who you wanted, and it was down to your own prerogative who that person was. 

That escape to London helped me have the best formative years and molded who I am today… 

Although albeit very dysfunctional, I’ll never forget those innocent memories of those first few trips to London.” 

Expectations were high for the band ahead of the release of Up The Bracket having already been on the cover of NME. They had also supported The Strokes and Supergrass where The Libertines were a bit messy but they were put in front of a potential fan base who went on to adore them. The band got bigger but the shows remained chaotic, stage invasions, bordering on riots were not a one-off. 

Paul Melbourne “I had heard a few tunes in 2002, I Get Along, Mayday and What a Waster and had downloaded them, I remember the first week of October in Burton where I'm from it's the local funfair that everyone goes to every year, I was 17 and I said to my mates shall we go to the fair or shall we go to see this band The Libertines who were playing The Vic Inn in Derby on the same day, it was a toss-up and we decided to go to see Libs and am so grateful I did!  

There were about 30 people there and I remember getting on stage and getting a signed setlist at the end, this was in 2002 just before Up the Bracket came out, and then after that I was hooked and followed them about everywhere. The Libertines were more than just a band. They broke down the barriers between fan and band, partly through .org where Pete used to post all the time and advertise all the flat gigs.” 

In June 2003 Pete decided not to play shows at Rock AM Ring and Rock AM Park festivals, expecting his band members not to either (if he wasn’t) but they went ahead without him, they had to, financially, they needed the money and they didn’t want to get sued. Anthony Rossomando, who lived with fellow American Gary in Hackney stepped in for the German dates and the following American tour and dates in Japan. The 4 of them got on and it was fun like the old days. The pressure was off, Pete’s behaviour had become toxic. Then, as they landed back in London, Carl got a call from his sister with the news that Pete had broken into his flat. Everything fell apart.  

This led to Pete being sentenced to 6 months in prison, which was cut to just 2. However, Carl met Peter as he walked free, they were best buds again and celebrated with an iconic gig at Tap 'n' Tin pub in Chatham, Kent. There was still tension between the pair and not all was forgiven. Pete felt betrayed and he documented this on the band's most successful single, Can’t Stand Me Now, some of it was written in prison.  

Laurie Wright “The Libertines were everything. It was The Strokes on crack, and British. I was too young but I felt a part of it. I started playing guitar immediately.” 

What made The Libertines and the scene around them different to anything before or after was their accessibility. They broke down the barrier between band and fans, it was anti-Knebworth, Carl hated the idea of being a “rock star” and having “fans”, he never felt comfortable with being looked at as different. While the band was on the cover of NME, being played on the radio and headlining huge gigs they were still accessible for fans. However, this was pre-social media, there was still mystery surrounding the band. They didn’t have a marketing team managing online accounts, the band would often post on the forums and Pete used his Babyshambles site to announce last-minute gigs and share demos. These last-minute gigs were often in a flat, fans were asked to meet at a mysterious location, there’d be led to a flat, pay a tenner on the door, Pete (occasionally Carl too) would turn up and play. Sometimes there’d get shut down by police but Pete would have some money for his drug addiction. 

Paul Melbourne “The Libertines changed everything in the indie scene in the UK at that time, they took what The Strokes were doing and made it achievable for all of the other bands coming through and so many good bands came from that scene, and are still going now.” 

Despite the success of the debut album, main stage festival sets, huge tours and Top Of The Pop appearances they were skint due to bad management. Banny had taken them as far as she could. Alan McGee, who had experience dealing with difficult double acts when managing Oasis was brought in to make things a little more professional but the ship was sinking. His first job was to get them out of London, away from distractions and focus on a second album. 

Blaine Harrison (Mystery Jets) “New York had The Strokes and London had The Libs. The big difference was that so many of the other bands of that new wave were so precisely considered, in both how they played and how they styled themselves. With The Libs, it was complete chaos and disorder. And I don’t just mean the drugs; musically, it was all over the place. There was a musical-hall influence in there, and beautiful little acoustic ditties as well as the balls-to-the-wall anthems like Death on the Stairs or Horrorshow. I feel like in time they will be remembered as our generation’s Clash. But to me they were more like The Kinks with out-of-tune guitars and Marshall stacks.” 

The Libertines were set to work on their second album with Bernard Butler from Suede who was hired as a producer in early 2004 but the band didn’t turn up, they ended up working with Mick Jones from The Clash again. To steady things, he encouraged them to get into the studio and start work on a second album.  

Alan McGee hired two bouncers to ensure that Pete and Carl turned up to the studio and avoid potential scraps. The band had been so busy working on relationships they had forgotten to write any songs. Pretty much everything was done in the studio, old material was pieced together. Writing, learning and recording on the spot, a completely different experience to the debut which they’d rehearsed until it naturally flowed. Pete was erratic and struggling with his addiction and he was often told not to turn up to the studio. Gary was surprised the album was finished. 

One of The Libertines' most joyous occasions was their biggest tour to date in March 2004, they were in fine form as they sold out venues up and down the country ending with 3 shows at Brixton Academy, after all the highs, the tour ended in a typical low as Pete left the stage because Carl looked at him funny during Can’t Stand Me Now when singing the line about Pete breaking into Carl’s flat. 

As all of this was going on, Pete was the vocalist on For Lovers, a song written by his friend, Wolfman. The gentle, romantic number charted at no.7 in the UK in April, higher than The Libertines had yet to reach was a contradiction to the character tarnished by the media as the most dangerous rock star of the time. 

Just The Libertines was preparing to release the second album Pete was exiled from the band for his drug use and behaviour while waiting for a court trial for carrying a weapon but the band couldn’t stop now.  

In August Pete had a solo show at The Barfly in Camden, the fans were waiting, he turned up, the bouncer said something that offended him and he just left. He was then booked for a gig at the Scala, another no-show which led to a riot. Pete’s reputation was worsening and his band were having to do their biggest moves without him. Can’t Stand Me Now reached no.2 in the UK singles charts, the band played the main stage at Reading & Leeds Festival (Pete had been replaced by Anthony Rossomando) then the self-titled second album topped the album charts.   

When the band played without Pete in 2003 Carl felt like he was the villain, that fans thought he was the reason Pete wasn’t in the band and he had to carry the weight on his shoulders. Pete's behaviour in 2004 was much more public and Carl felt supported, both the band and fans understood the situation, Pete didn’t. he still felt betrayed, he didn’t understand why he wasn’t in the band when he hadn’t seen Carl in months. He felt robbed, that he was The Libertines, that it was his story. 

Carl was emotionally exhausted, he knew The Libertines was just as Pete’s band as his, but he couldn’t work with Pete when he was chasing the dragon. After completing a European tour, The Libertines were over. Their last gig took place on the 17th December 2004 in Paris.

NEXT CHAPTER

[pinkfloyd-musicartnaturelove]

Dark Entries was Bauhaus's second single, released in 1980 (Bela Lugosi's Dead being their first, which still blows me away). There will never be another band like Bauhaus. Peter Murphy is the Peter Gabriel of Genesis, but on gloom steroids. Absolutely brilliant. Daniel Ash (guitarist/vocalist), David J (bassist/vocalist), Kevin Haskins (drummer). There is a reason they are called the Founding Fathers of Goth. Their influence has been immeasurable.

[whileiamdying]

A SERENE JAZZ MASTERPIECE TURNS 65

The best-selling and arguably the best-loved jazz album ever, Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue still has the power to awe.

MARCH 06, 2024

At a moment when jazz still loomed large in American culture, 1959 was an unusually monumental year. Those 12 months saw the release of four great and genre-altering albums: Charles Mingus’s Mingus Ah Um, Dave Brubeck’s Time Out (with its megahit “Take Five”), Ornette Coleman’s The Shape of Jazz to Come, and Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue. Sixty-five years on, the genre, though still filled with brilliant talent, has receded to niche status from the culture at large. What remains of that earthshaking year in jazz? “Take Five” has stayed a standard, a tune you might hear on TV or on the radio, a signifier of smooth and nostalgic cool. Mingus, the genius troublemaker, and Coleman, the free-jazz pioneer, remain revered by Those Who Know; their names are still familiar, but most of the music they made has been forgotten by the broader public. Yet Kind of Blue, arguably the best-selling and best-loved jazz album ever, endures—a record that still has the power to awe, that seems to exist outside of time. In a world of ceaseless tumult, its matchless serenity is more powerful than ever.

On the afternoon of Monday, March 2, 1959, seven musicians walked into Columbia Records’ 30th Street Studio, a cavernous former church just off Third Avenue, to begin recording an album. The LP, not yet named, was initially known as Columbia Project B 43079. The session’s leader—its artistic director, the man whose name would appear on the album cover—was Miles Davis. The other players were the members of Davis’s sextet: the saxophonists John Coltrane and Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, the bassist Paul Chambers, the drummer Jimmy Cobb, and the pianist Wynton Kelly. To the confusion and dismay of Kelly, who had taken a cab all the way from Brooklyn because he hated the subway, another piano player was also there: the band’s recently departed keyboardist, Bill Evans.

Every man in the studio had recorded many times before; nobody was expecting this time to be anything special. “Professionals,” Evans once said, “have to go in at 10 o’clock on a Wednesday and make a record and hope to catch a really good day.” On the face of it, there was nothing remarkable about Project B 43079. For the first track laid down that afternoon, a straight-ahead blues-based number that would later be named “Freddie Freeloader,” Kelly was at the keyboard. He was a joyous, selfless, highly adaptable player, and Davis, a canny leader, figured a blues piece would be a good way for the band to limber up for the more demanding material ahead—material that Evans, despite having quit the previous November due to burnout and a sick father, had a large part in shaping.

A highly trained classical pianist, the New Jersey–born Evans fell in love with jazz as a teenager and, after majoring in music at Southeastern Louisiana University, moved to New York in 1955 with the aim of making it or going home. Like many an apprentice, he booked a lot of dances and weddings, but one night, at the Village Vanguard, where he’d been hired to play between the sets of the world-famous Modern Jazz Quartet, he looked down at the end of the grand piano and saw Davis’s penetrating gaze fixed on him. A few months later, having forgotten all about the encounter, Evans was astonished to receive a phone call from the trumpeter: Could he make a gig in Philadelphia?

He made the gig and, just like that, became the only white musician in what was then the top small jazz band in America. It was a controversial hire. Evans, who was really white—bespectacled, professorial—incurred instant and widespread resentment among Black musicians and Black audiences. But Davis, though he could never quite stop hazing the pianist (“We don’t want no white opinions!” was one of his favorite zingers), made it clear that when it came to musicians, he was color-blind. And what he wanted from Evans was something very particular.

One piece that Davis became almost obsessed with was Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli’s 1957 recording of Maurice Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G. The work, inspired by Ravel’s triumphant 1928 tour of the U.S., was clearly influenced by the fast pace and openness of America: It shimmers with sprightly piccolo and bold trumpet sounds, and dances with unexpected notes and chord changes.

Davis wanted to put wide-open space into his music the way Ravel did. He wanted to move away from the familiar chord structures of jazz and use different scales the way Aram Khachaturian, with his love for Asian music, did. And Evans, unlike any other pianist working in jazz, could put these things onto the keyboard. His harmonic intelligence was profound; his touch on the keys was exquisitely sensitive. “I planned that album around the piano playing of Bill Evans,” Davis said.

But Davis wanted even more. Ever restless, he had wearied of playing songs—American Songbook standards and jazz originals alike—that were full of chords, and sought to simplify. He’d recently been bowled over by a Les Ballets Africains performance—by the look and rhythms of the dances, and by the music that accompanied them, especially the kalimba (or “finger piano”). He wanted to get those sounds into his new album, and he also wanted to incorporate a memory from his boyhood: the ghostly voices of Black gospel singers he’d heard in the distance on a nighttime walk back from church to his grandparents’ Arkansas farm.

In the end, Davis felt that he’d failed to get all he’d wanted into Kind of Blue. Over the next three decades, his perpetual artistic antsiness propelled him through evolving styles, into the blend of jazz and rock called fusion, and beyond. What’s more, Coltrane, Adderley, and Evans were bursting to move on and out and lead their own bands. Just 12 days after Kind of Blue’s final session, Coltrane would record his groundbreaking album Giant Steps, a hurdle toward the cosmic distances he would probe in the eight short years remaining to him. Cannonball, as soulful as Trane was boundary-bursting, would bring a new warmth to jazz with hits such as “Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.” And for the rest of his career, one sadly truncated by his drug use, Evans would pursue the trio format with subtle lyrical passion.

Yet for all the bottled-up dynamism in the studio during Kind of Blue’s two recording sessions, a profound, Zenlike quiet prevailed throughout. The essence of it can be heard in Evans and Chambers’s hushed, enigmatic opening notes on the album’s opening track, “So What,” a tune built on just two chords and containing, in Davis’s towering solo, one of the greatest melodies in all of music.

The majestic tranquility of Kind of Blue marks a kind of fermata in jazz. America’s great indigenous art had evolved from the exuberant transgressions of the 1920s to the danceable rhythms of the swing era to the prickly cubism of bebop. The cool (and warmth) that followed would then accelerate into the ’60s ever freer of melody and harmony before being smacked head-on by rock and roll—a collision it wouldn’t quite survive.

That charmed moment in the spring of 1959 was brief: Of the seven musicians present on that long-ago afternoon, only Miles Davis and Jimmy Cobb would live past their early 50s. Yet 65 years on, the music they all made, as eager as Davis was to put it behind him, stays with us. The album’s powerful and abiding mystique has made it widely beloved among musicians and music lovers of every category: jazz, rock, classical, rap. For those who don’t know it, it awaits you patiently; for those who do, it welcomes you back, again and again.

James Kaplan, a 2012 Guggenheim fellow, is a novelist, journalist, and biographer. His next book will be an examination of the world-changing creative partnership and tangled friendship of John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

[greensparty]

Album Review: The Police "Synchronicity" Deluxe Edition

Last year it felt like I got to have my own reunion of seeing The Police. The legendary trio took the world by storm in the 70s and 80s and reunited from 2007-2008. But for me, last year I got to see guitarist Andy Summers live (and he actually shared my review on his social media), a month and a half later I got to see singer / bassist Sting live, and while I didn't get to see drummer Stewart Copeland I did get to cover his book The Police Diaries. All of this served to remind me of what a force of nature The Police were. An argument could be made that they were the greatest band ever because in the span of six years (1978-1983) they released five albums and all of them were excellent. The band’s mix of punk, reggae, and new wave caught on in the MTV era, but it was Sting’s brilliant lyrics and songwriting that made the band. By the time of the group's fifth album Synchronicity's was released on June 17, 1983 they were possibly the biggest band in the world, selling out arenas and about to start selling out stadiums, and they were all over radio and MTV. Of all their albums, which were all great, this is their best, and one of the best of the 80s. It's also their biggest-selling at 8 x platinum and reached #1! When I saw both Summers and Sting last year, both performed songs off of this album. The album contains some of their finest songs, i.e. “King of Pain”, “Every Breath You Take” and both “Synchronicity I” and “II”. Celebrating the um, well, 41st anniversary of the album, Synchronicity is getting the deluxe 6-CD box set treatment this week.

album cover

CD1 is the original album remastered from the original source tapes. CD2 is B-sides, rarities, and live versions. CD3 and 4 are alternate takes of the songs. CD5 and 6 are from a 1983 concert in Oakland, CA. The box set comes with a 62-page book as well. [NOTE: for this review I did not get to view the book].

the box set

For me, I actually got into The Police later than most people. I discovered Sting's solo work and then worked backwards and got into The Police. This is easily their best studio album and I have my copy on vinyl. The remastered album (CD1) is phenomenal. As for the box set, it definitely delves into For Fans Only territory more often than not. The alternate takes are interesting in terms of hearing the songs we know in a different way, but they don't add too much to the album experience. The live performance is pretty awesome and could easily be its own live album. The original is an out and out classic, but at 6 CDs and 84 songs, it feels a little fat.

For info on Synchronicity

Original album: 5 out of 5 stars

Box set: 3.5 out of 5 stars

[sunburnacoustic]

The Inner Symmetry

VISIONS Germany reviews Muse's set at Hurricane Festival in 2001 and interviews the band in issue No. 100, July 2001.

[Note: This article has been translated from German, and my German is nonexistent so I am no help here. Original article archived on archive.org]

Good Morning Beautiful

The summer of '99. A good year in every respect. Great records, great concerts, fine festivals. The Hurricane, for example, was one of those highlights that people talked about for a long time. Motorpsycho, dEUS, Chemical Brothers, Manson, Queens Of The Stone Age, Foo Fighters and dozens of other seal-of-approval gigs. That was nice.

Right in the middle: three young guys with playfulness, pressure and anger in their stomachs, and an album called "Showbiz". As well as half a dozen VISIONS editorial staff, who at eleven in the morning in a shockingly empty circus tent indulged in true emotional rapture. The reason: singer and guitarist Matthew Bellamy, bassist Chris Wolstenholme and drummer Dominique Howard celebrated live on German soil for the first time Songs like "Sunburn", "Muscle Museum" or "Uno" enthralled from the word go with brilliant guitar baths, magical presence and a punch that made the festival breakfast stick in your throat.

So there it was, the new Britrock sensation. Three pimply teenagers in shabby jeans and sneakers, who at first glance looked as if they had won the Sparkasse youth development prize. But they had prepared well, at home in tranquil Devon in rural nowhere in southern England. Had studied the records of Nirvana, Radiohead, Jeff Buckley and the Smashing Pumpkins in the children's room, met several times a week in the rehearsal room for years and worked meticulously on the details until they were really good.

Then, in early '99, they had just that little bit of luck: John Leckie, the production ace for Britain's rockier moments, found them fragrant and took them to the pampas. More precisely: to Cornwall to Sawmill Studios, where, in the middle of the forest and far away from any civilisation, bands like Oasis, Supergrass and the Stone Roses had already put down great albums. And now it would come, the "Showbiz".

In the afternoon of that day on the Hurricane [festival], during an interview in their then-still clearly small camper, three super good-humoured rockers lolled about casually on their couch and gibbered over the small group of girls who openly offered themselves as accompaniment for the afternoon at the concert earlier searched. Man, that's pretty exciting, all of this. Matthew shakes his head: "It's so surreal. Up until a few months ago we were still practicing our fingers sore in the rehearsal room and playing in pubs to a few people who thought we were shit. And now we're rocking here in Germany at one of the biggest festivals and having a lot of fun. Great, and now I'm going to see Placebo."

The World Is Yours

It's cold, it's winter '99. Despite the technical problems and ten hours on a snow-covered autobahn, Muse really impressed the almost sold-out Cologne Prime Club. Later, Dominic, Matthew and I are sitting in my old Opel, freezing like slugs in the three-star freezer and listening to tapes for a VISIONS blind date. They seem pretty much destroyed - the fact that "Showbiz" was released worldwide, at the same time and with great fanfare now hits mercilessly. You want them, preferably anywhere and immediately. Five club concerts in Europe, then as support for the Foo Fighters and Porno For Pyros through the States, and in between to Southeast Asia, where they already fill the big halls.

That takes its toll. As a jittery, flu-stricken Matthew soberly states, "It's damn hard to maintain a consistently high level when you've got absolutely no downtime. Right now, all I could do was sleep all day." Moderately enthusiastic they fight their way through the 15 songs on my tape, only the new Therapy? can really blow his mind. "My goodness, let's get started," says Dominic happily. "And how well they play to the point. Oh man, we still have to practise a lot."

Pleasure And Pain

Earlier this year in London: visibly relaxed, contentedly grinning faces on the band and label people. The weather is beautiful, the hotel is large and expensive, the lounge is comfortable and the media entourage is international. A relaxed afternoon with fine finger food and a lot of questions.��And new sneakers for Matthew.  Unconventionally cut old school sneakers with fashionable puma fur applications in black and bordeaux. He got it from the Japanese delegation because they heard that he likes that sort of thing. That's right - Matthew is overjoyed: "An excellent gift. Because that's how it is with shoes for me: I always only have one pair. I wear it exclusively and for as long as possible. Until I get a new one that I like.

With all due respect, Mr. Bellamy, I blurted out unintentionally, it was about time. Because his previous favourite pair, parked right next to my armchair, a festival-proven biotope of days gone by with the pungent aroma of ammonia and acid, could have a negative effect on sex appeal. "Heehee, finally someone else tells him!" giggles Dominic, who is lounging next to Matthew on the sofa and gnawing the toppings of bite-sized slices of pizza in layers.

Matthew takes it easy, like so many things these days. But they also have every reason to smile: Yesterday, at the first small club gig after a five-month studio break, it literally broke out of them. Pressure and fun in a family package, a superbly balanced balance between brute force and pure beauty, and all with a tightness and precision that very few trios can achieve.

Also, and even more important: The second opus "Origin Of Symmetry" is as good as in the can, and, so they say, turned out really smart. More ideas, more courage, more variation, more studios and more real human bones - the latter used as idiosyncratic sounding percussion instruments. “Yeah, that's about it,” Matthew judges. “We just wanted to trust each other more. We know more, can do more, so we want more.”

According to Matthew, the most important development, which was also unmistakable last night, is the following: “We have found out what it really means to be a three-man band and how we can optimally use these advantages. We've listened to a lot of Jimi Hendrix Experience, Cream, Nirvana, Primus and Police—the best trios in music history—and only focused on what makes them special: dynamics, interaction, precision, filling in empty spaces. I think we're getting that across quite well now.”

His trick: variation. In volume, mood, intensity and instrumentation. The latter especially, because Matthew has learned to play the piano. “I've been really into playing keyboards, Fender Rhodes and piano for a long time, and now I'm composing a lot with them too. I aspire to be at least as good at it as I am at the guitar. That's why we're going to integrate the keys into the concerts in the future. That gives some songs a completely different, completely new vibe.” Also: It also looks good. “I think it's cool: Sitting on the stage behind his piano, singing a ballad and having the blues. Almost a bit like Tom Waits.” A jealous crook,

“There are two sides to Muse – in the songwriting, on stage, in all of our music. They express the two opposite moods I can find myself in when making music. On the one hand you have the happy, light-hearted side that's just looking for a good melody and a well-rounded song. On the other hand, there is this thoughtful, serious, dark, often aggressive element that sometimes breaks out of me and creates wild, unbridled moments. That's what scares me sometimes on stage, because something almost always breaks. It's the borderline between pleasure and pain. You have to learn to deal with that.”

Truly, not an easy chunk. Especially when impressions like those of the past year rain down on you. Shrill situations and people, bad and good surprises, a life with left indicators and headlight flashers. Matthew says: “You're in the middle of Australia, the phone rings and they ask you if you can tour America with the Chili Peppers next week. And a week later you are suddenly in Japan and 20 girls are camping in front of your hotel room. And if you go out and talk to them, they make a big fuss and run away. At the bottom, you hop in the limo, drive to the venue, and then all hell breaks loose.”

That Rockstar Thing, Revisited

Easter in Düsseldorf, two months later. Almost everything is the same as it was a year ago when you were here for the first time: the same place (Philipshalle), the same occasion (Osterrocknacht). But: a different position. If you gave the afternoon heater back then, this year you are the secret main act for many. Also different from last time: the mood. Because it's bad. There are far too many interviews, viva is annoying and they don't feel like signing autographs. And then this ugly backstage room, of all things, the one next to the Stereophonics, who you always thought were stupid.

Especially since their singer Kelly Jones informed readers in detail in an NME interview about how independent and boring Muse were compared to them. And anyway: Matthew is a little snot with bad manners. As proof, a play follows in two acts. Part one consists of a very pissed off Mr. Bellamy, unannounced visits to the cloakroom neighbours, arguments, ugly scenes, and to top it all: red wine stains on your favourite sneakers. The end of the scene: even more bad mood. The evening seems to have passed.

But part two follows in no time, less than an hour later: Muse on stage. Professionals in a duel - with the weapons of the musician. Matthew is the grumpy, multi-talented frontman somewhere between languishing singer, maniacal guitarist and serene piano player. The new songs are stunners, today's drive is a very special one, and the Stereophonics playing after them look pretty lame and tired. Muse, the ‘young urban professionals’ of rock music, do what they do best: vomit out emotional apocalypses that have become songs, absorb anger and energy, surf on a sea of ​​intensity, melody and groove.

They play skilfully on the keyboard of the rock 'n' roll premier league, and not only in musical terms, as the rest of the evening proves. We—that is, the industry-standard mix of media representatives accompanying the band—are sitting in the living room booth of their super-luxury bus on the way to the after-show party in a rented hotel suite. The band is upstairs in the living quarters of the rolling amusement hut; not alone, as giggling girls' voices tell us.

Later, in the suite, a motley crowd of roadies, journalists, musicians and label people demand music and alcohol. Matthew, Chris and Dominic are just taking a shower or something, the procurement of drinks is faltering, everyone is waiting, nobody knows why, for whom and in what condition.

But as soon as they are there, the fun trumpets with the aura of successful alternative careerists, things get turbulent. Beautiful girls give them beautiful eyes, complimenting pats on the back from every side, handshakes and a bit of casual socialising. Who would have thought: The insignia of being a star are now excellent for the three inconspicuous boys from the sheltered provincial idyll.

As it's almost getting light outside and my skull is getting darker and darker, I'm standing in front of a monstrous wide-screen TV with Dominic and an absinthe in my hand. My efforts to explain to him that the hotpacks from the Rockpalast broadcast that are just crossing the screen are called Clawfinger, were a very hot sweep in the early 90s and were allowed to replace the main act today, earns a weary shrug of the shoulders. "I've never heard that. Must have been before my time. I was just starting out on Nirvana and grunge at the time.” Young veggies, damn it.

Blood, Sweat & Abbey Road

Three weeks later we meet again, because in the meantime "Origin Of Symmetry" has hit the home CD player. It only needed a few runs to convey the certainty: This record also has it, something special, maybe even more than the debut "Showbiz", which in direct comparison seems downright tame.

The foundation: a handful of fantastic, aggressive rock tunes like "New Born", "Hyper Music" or the first single "Plug In Baby", with killer melodies and beats like slaps in the face. The walls: magical ballads like the suicidal blues "Feeling Good", the heart-rending "Screenager" or the sacred "Megalomania", which comes with church organs. The roof: confused glam rock with tasteful 80s keyboards ("Bliss"), a vocally losing-all-control of Matthew in the pathos anthem "Micro Cuts", or orchestral monumentals in the best prog rock tradition, as in "Space Dementia" or " Citizen Erased". A colossus of diversity, beauty and great songs.

The circumstances of this album production couldn't have been better either: They spent a few months in the four most expensive and best studios in England - including Peter Gabriel's 'Real World' mega complex, Pink Floyd's David Gilmour's studio houseboat and, of course, 'Abbey Road'. “Admittedly, we also had to take a deep breath at the end of the recording when we asked ourselves what the next record should actually be,” says Dominic. “But should we forego such opportunities because of that?”

During the recording sessions, they were again guided for long periods by the skilled production hands of John Leckie, but on four of the heavier songs they also put themselves in the care of another top-class sound carver: Tool producer Dave Bottrill. “I don't think anyone understands us like John, but it was a very important experience,” Matthew recalls. “Dave has a very different approach to a band and their music.” What's the biggest difference between them? “John Leckie is sound, arrangement and feeling. Dave, on the other hand, thrives more on the energy he thrashes into you while recording. It really helps you get the most out of yourself.”

With the finished high-quality recordings, Matthew says, they were drawn back “back home to our living room, now in terms of studio technology.” Namely to Cornwall to the 'Sawmill Studios', whose owners - and this is where we come full circle - meanwhile too is her manager, closest adviser and backup daddy. We are sitting in the bright sun on the terrace of a luxury hotel in Hamburg. As usual, Chris is the friendly, grinning, reserved observer. Dominic, the smug rascal with the dry jokes, asks me the name of the pretty promoter who is taking care of them today. And Matthew, the bright kid with a penchant for hyperactivity, meticulously paints every colour abrasion on his run-down Asian sneakers black again with an Edding.

Despite the stress of everyday touring, they make a vital, tidy impression today. The recipe is simple, explains Matthew. “First: eat better, take care of yourself a little. And secondly: going out a lot, having a few drinks with nice people who were at your concert. In short: lead a social life. If you just hang out at the hotel and lock yourself up, like we did on the last tour, then eventually all ties to normal life will be severed. You'll quickly become a bit ‘meschugge’ [mad?]. That's why we're going out a lot more among people this time. It helps you stay grounded. The only thing that is sometimes clearly neglected is sleep.”

Good keyword: Is there ever help? Surely you get offered at some after-show party, that junk. But no, no power to the drugs - at least the stupid ones. “Everything that is too speedy or too chemical drives me crazy, we don't really need that at all. The greatest feeling is something hallucinogenic, maybe a few mushrooms. But never on tour. At most at home, or rather in the studio if you got stuck musically and need a conceptual overview for a few hours.”

That's how they sit there: three smart young men in harmony with themselves, the world and the temptations lurking everywhere. Unaffected, reflected and extremely relaxed wolves of the music genius in the sheep's clothing of young normal people. “That's what life is all about,” says Dominic. “Being able to do exactly what you want to do most, in a relaxed, optimal environment.” “There are still phases where I catch myself thinking that all this is nothing more than is a great dream,” adds Matthew. “And then again there are moments when the full force of this crazy rock lifestyle hits my bones so much that I know: That must be reality.”

This is also reality, and current ones at that: Muse are the paragons of the new generation of boisterous rock emotionalists. The reactions to the album range from positive to overwhelming, the concerts are buzzing and everyone is happy. The fans, because they can indulge in pure Muse enjoyment. The label, because if everything goes well, you can soon earn a lot of money with it. And the band, because they can take all the freedom they want and still be loved fanatically and taken 100% seriously.

Matthew is a bit proud: “What I think is so great is that people really engage with us. Because that proves: We are not hype, everything is solidly developed success. When we try something new or overshoot the mark, nobody says: ‘Let them do it, they're crazy anyway.’ No, people try to understand why we do something. They take us seriously and deal with our ideas. It's a really great feeling to be liked for that, not because you had that one cool #1 hit with that catchy tune.”

Just An Ordinary Night

Their gig in the completely sold-out market hall on the same evening is rather meagre thanks to a terribly miserable sound, terrible scramble and the obvious listlessness of the actors. But today's after-show party in a hip cocktail bar on the Alster is quite solid. A constellation of journos, record bosses, musicians and happily grinning groupies, which is remarkably similar to the Düsseldorf drink, but today decidedly more top-class, basks in the wonderful feeling of being able to be there. And they do their job well, the three main actors. Are charming, funny, constantly surrounded and even concerned about the musical well-being of the guests - Dominic doesn't give up until he can soften the granite block programmed stoically to house by a DJ to let the complete new Weezer record run through.

"Is that a pattern every night when you're on tour?" my gin and tonic-soaked brain asks an equally heavily-counted Matthew as we wait for cabs at dawn. “Yeah, more or less. That's good: we have fun and gain experience. And then you can write songs about it again.” And hey presto, he's already sitting in the taxi with Dominic and a pretty companion. Hopefully he'll keep his shoes on later for the cozy part in the hotel. The one with the cougar pattern, the red wine stain, and the marker pen on the side.

[theeverlastingshade]

Diamond Jubilee- Cindy Lee

The most fervently discussed indie rock success story of the year so far being a double album of gauzy pop songs that sound gleefully out of step with the current moment from a beloved cult artist who’s been honing their craft over the course of a decade with several strong, but immensely overlooked records was not something I would’ve predicted going into the year, but here we are. For those who aren’t terminally online music obsessives, here’s where things are: a guitarist and vocalist named Patrick Flegel was once in a brilliant but short lived art-damaged post-punk band called Women with his brother/bassist Matt, guitarist Christopher Reimer, and drummer Mike Wallace. Women released two excellent, extremely influential records (their self-titled debut and Public Strain, respectively) before Reimer tragically passed away in 2012, effectively ending the band. Matt and Mike formed a more immediate but still fairly corrosive sounding post-punk band called Viet Cong (now known as Preoccupations) with guitarists Scott Munro and Daniel Christiansen while Patrick went solo, adopting a drag persona called Cindy Lee. As Cindy Lee, Patrick eschewed the nervy, overt post-punk sensibilities of Women and tapped into the more understated melodic, psych-light side of their sound. Over the course of six records, Cindy Lee explored an approach that sounded something like hypnagogic Motown and doo-wop music occasionally cut with shards of lacerating noise. On their latest record, the behemoth, borderline overwhelming Diamond Jubilee, the harsh sonics of records past have eroded to make room for a much warmer, approachable palette. It’s the most accessible and impressive Cindy Lee record to date, and a rare record that deserves all the hype that it’s received.

Flegel has never made a bad Cindy Lee record, but the vast terrain and consistent brilliance of DJ is something particularly special. These 32 songs are cut from the classic pop songbook, but true to Lee’s ambitious form, they fold psychedelic pop, glam rock, blues, lo-fi rock, r&b, and even a little synth-pop into their sharp frameworks. The songs range from 1 to 6 minutes (most are around 3), and on each one Lee fleshes out a compelling idea and cuts out before anything wears its welcome. There’s a haunted, dreamlike sensibility that courses throughout these songs that can’t help but recall records like Panda Bear’s Person Pitch or Deerhunter’s Weird Era Cont., and like those records you can hear the ghosts of pop music’s past conjured through a distinctly 21st century sensibility. The reverb-laden scaffolding on display throughout DJ only accentuates the timeless allure of this music, while the lo-fi production imbues the music with a charming, home-spun feel that’s only reinforced by the potent melodies that emerge like they’re going out of fashion. That’s not to say Lee hasn’t demonstrated a knack for melody before (most of Lee’s work is very tuneful despite the persistent undercurrent of noise music) but the absence of pervasive dissonance really opens things up. Many of the record’s highlights, like “Baby Blue”, “Glitz”, and “Kingdom Come”, are propelled by vocal melodies so commanding and undeniable they already feel like pop staples from several decades ago. Lee sings with both a lower, borderline monotone sort of inflection as well as a higher-pitched warbled plea, but her voice is far more expressive than those sort of descriptions suggest, and she works extremely well within her vocal parameters. Like with all great pop music, the seemingly effortless poise that Lee performs this music with belies the ingenuity of its construction.

Flegel hasn’t provided any interviews, discussed the record’s thematic intent, or done anything else that scans as the playing the music industry game within the midst of “album cycle mode”, and as such there’s very little to go off of as to what these songs “mean”. From what I can gather from the lyrics, DJ is essentially a collection of love songs, but on the other side of the relationship coin after the connection in question has withered and died, assuming it ever even existed at all. Words like “I”, “you”, “baby”, and “memory” dot the lyric sheets like reoccurring motifs that establish something of a thematic through line tethering the ethereal presentation to something resembling the reality we live in. Some songs like the breezy downtempo ”To Heal This Wounded Heart” lay it all out plainly “I will never brush it off/The hurt, the pain, and the loss/I’ll make a brand new start/To wound this broken heart” while others like trudging, soulful sour ballad “Til’ Polarity’s End” deal in more obtuse imagery “There won’t be a tomorrow/When I see my pony’s gone/I will steal or borrow/Til’ polarity’s end”, but the palpable sense of loss remains an omnipresent north star. Even instrumentals like the chugging, string-laden disco strut of “Olive Drab” or the creeping, jangly march of “Darling of the Diskoteque” are immensely expressive showcases of longing in their own respective rights, and they each convey just as much emotional urgency as anything with lyrics here. It’s a welcome change of pace to listen to an artist who doesn’t feel the need to overexplain every facet of their craft and the specific read that you’re supposed to glean from their work, and instead simply let the music itself do the heavy lifting.

Despite DJ’s 32 song tracklist, there aren’t really any misfires or particularly lackluster songs, but there are plenty of highlights that are worth giving some special attention to. The majority of the arrangements on DJ were recorded by Flegel, with several contributions from Steven Lind of Freak Heat Waves (who have toured with Lee) which speaks to the simultaneously distinctive flavor of a few of these songs as well as the uniform excellence coursing through it all. DJ runs the sonic gamut as an all-encompassing greatest hits showcase of Flegel’s mastery of the love song, and so naturally your mileage is going to vary with regards to what lanes he works best in, but I truly believe that there’s something for everyone who can tolerate the fidelity here. Almost right out of the gates “Glitz” presents Lee at her rollicking, ramshackle best, with strutting glam guitar, queasy piano, and perhaps her most anthemic vocal turn to date. There are songs like “Deepest Blue” and “All I Want Is You” that slow the arrangements to a crawl and luxuriate in Flegel’s tender vocal melodies, and songs like “Baby Blue” and “Flesh and Blood” that are nimble classic rock workouts that showcase Flegel’s intuitive, expressive guitar playing. The most potent/purest distillation of the whole Cindy Lee ethos is achieved on highlight “Kingdom Come” courtesy of its squealing strings, jangly guitar stabs, cantering rhythm, playful field recordings, and stunning doo-wop vocal melody that all congeal into absolute sonic bliss. Nothing on DJ really indulges in the abstract, avant-garde leaning sensibilities that helped define the earlier Cindy Lee records, with the closest that Lee gets here maybe being the droning low-end strut that propels the tastefully goth-tinged dirge “Lockstepp”, but it’s still within the context of what is ultimately, at its core, still pop music, albeit unabashedly left-of-center pop music.

Although DJ consists of what is easily the most accessible Cindy Lee music to date, it isn’t without its own set of hurdles. In conjunction with the actual music being completely out of step with current trends, DJ also isn’t on streaming services, and can only be accessed as a single sonic slab on YouTube or on Geocities.com (which looks like a crudely constructed website retrofitted with online aesthetics from the 90s that’s absolutely going to scam you) where you can stream the music for free or buy it for the suggested donation of $30. On the flipside, DJ is very much tapped into the current moment in its presentation of 32 songs and over 2 hours of music that hang together better as a playlist than a cohesive album, but unlike the glut of streaming age releases with bloated track lists constructed to juice streaming numbers (not a factor with DJ, obviously) with seemingly very little concern given to the overall aesthetic being constructed, the sprawl of DJ is an inspired move in and of itself. Flegel has discussed how DJ is likely to be the final Cindy Lee record, and as such he set about to essentially treat this as the de-facto clearing of the vault/final batch of songs under the Cindy Lee banner that he had been working on throughout the last several years. And while there isn’t really an “album arc” on DJ per say, that sort of thing is entirely beside the point here. DJ unfolds like a greatest hits compilation beamed in from another dimension, a lo-fi hypnagogic Motown record with blemishes and quirks that are very much part and parcel of its charm. Despite how normalized “extended cut” records have become, the generosity of the music on DJ has no real modern equivalent and is refreshing for reasons far beyond the actual sound of the music itself.

The remarkable success of DJ isn’t likely going to be indicative of any larger, imminent shifts in music sensibilities, taste, presentation, or distribution so much as it seems to largely speak to a specific cultural (albeit perhaps somewhat niche) craving for music with its own distinctive character and voice, free from the constraints of labels and the demands of the market place writ large. Even in the wake of this immense surge in attention, Flegel still cancelled the bulk of what was initially billed as the “last Cindy Lee tour”, leaving the future of Flegel’s artistry in an uncertain, limbo-esque state for the foreseeable future despite still being in the immediate wake of a career sustaining breakthrough that increasingly feels like a true anomaly for artists who aren’t supported by the major label industrial complex. While the vast majority of contemporary music being released is still going to land on streaming services and adhere to conventional rollouts with the usual pomp and circumstance for the foreseeable future, I’d like to think that, at the very least, DJ, and the entirety of Flegel’s body of work as Cindy Lee will serve to inspire countless DIY musicians in the same way that Women inspired countless DIY musicians after them. Regardless of the what’s next for Flegel, if this really is the end of the Cindy Lee project then it’s hard to ask for a more spectacular finale than a double LP of the greatest lo-fi FM radio hits that never were, rendered in all this spectral, sepia-toned splendor.

Essentials: “Kingdom Come”, “Baby Blue”, “Lockstepp”

[dustedmagazine]

Charlie Kohlhase Explorers Club — A Second Life (Mandorla)

Saxophonist Charlie Kohlhase is a lynchpin of the New England jazz scene. He has led various configurations of Explorers Club live and on record as well as playing with luminaries such as John Tchicai, Roswell Rudd and Anthony Braxton. For A Second Life the group expands to an octet, anchored by the formidable rhythm section of bassist Tony Leva and drummer Curt Newton with Kohlhase on alto, tenor and baritone saxes, Seth Meicht on tenor, Dan Rosenthal trumpet and flugelhorn, Josiah Reibstein on tuba and trombonist Jeb Bishop. Guitarist Eric Hofbauer is the versatile wildcard of the group, providing both rhythmic support and brilliant coloratura. With Kohlhase at the helm, these adventurers dexterously balance density and space, structure and improvisation into a thrilling set that pays tribute to forebears and showcases each player’s talent.

On “Lennette,” a portmanteau of Tristano and Coleman, Kohlhase combines the harmonic complexity of the former with the latter’s free approach to structure and melody. Beginning with each player sounding off a two-note motif, the Explorers Club blasts off with a series of fanfares before breaking down into smaller units to duel. The interlude between Hofbauer and Bishop a particular joy. “Airport Station” strolls along on Newton’s lock step beat as Hofbauer bends his guitar through a mazy solo. The reed and brass players mingle and part in brief nocturnal encounters, those late night, cancelled flight consultations, the participants buoying each other.

The cover versions too provide plenty of space for celebration. Kohlhase’s arrangement of Ornette Coleman’s rare 1969 single “Man on the Moon” becomes an eleven plus minute cosmic blowout that references the double quartet of Coleman’s 1961 landmark Free Jazz. The octet hits the main theme hard between breaks for various combinations of interlocking solos with Leva and Newton working double time in support. The duel between Reibstein and Kohlhase a particular delight leading into a frantic revisitation of the main theme and an outro of rocket wake through space. Their reading of Tchicai’s “Berlin Ballad” retains the original’s tender lyricism and hint of “Yesterday” whilst capturing something of Tchicai’s freer side. They close with Roswell Rudd’s “Tetraktys.” After running through the theme, a series of brief interlocking solos, before the band members put aside their instruments one by one to sing the theme in growing unison, a sort “So Long, Farewell” in reverse that brings a wonderful album to a lovely end.

Andrew Forell