Lost in Music

Now I can’t pretend to know what cutting edge electronica and dubstep sounds like nowadays, I’ll leave that to the hipsters with a few less years on the clock.

But it seemed to me that the arrival of James Blake’s debut album a couple of years back signalled the emergence of an artist with a very singular and unique musical vision.

His hushed, multi-layered vocals conjured up the intimacy of the first Bon Iver record along with the theatricality of Antony Hegarty. There was a bravery about the minimalism of those beats and arrangements.

Blake’s star has been in the ascendant ever since and he’s gone on to collaborate with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon and been given the seal of approval by his heroine, Joni Mitchell. 

So there’s a good deal riding on this follow-up. Blake takes the expectations in his stride, refining and distilling the best elements of that debut and polishing up his songwriting craft. The headline news, of course, is the contributions from Brian Eno on Digital Lion and the Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA on the standout Take A Fall On Me. This is still very much a James Blake record though with his quivering vocals taking centrestage pretty much throughout.

Joni Mitchell was an influence on the opening title track apparently, an introspective analysis on the pros and cons of fame: “I don’t want to be a star, but a stone on the shore.” It builds to a beautifully swelling middle section. A classic Blake trick of restraint and release that he’s already proved to be the master of.

He’s in full-on tremulous Antony Hegarty mode for I Am Sold, which revisits the debut album’s motif of repeating snatched phrases before piling on the echo and distortion effects. It’s a muted opening pair, but lays out Blake’s introspective stall without compromise.

The pace picks up for Life Round Here, an ode to Blake’s girlfriend, the LA-based Warpaint guitarist Theresa Wayman. Laying bare the neuroses behind trying to keep up a long-distance relationship. Yet again, another repeated motif dominates: “part-time love is the life we live, we’re never done; everything feels like touchdown on a rainy day.”

RZA’s arrival on Take A Fall On Me provides a nice counterpoint, particularly his quirky Anglo-centric lyrics

“I wouldn’t trade her smile for a million quid” and “fish and chips and vinegar/With a glass on cold stout or something similar.”

Accept for the refrain: “I need you like I need satisfaction,” it’s a pretty oblique contribution. Another skewed love song to add to the Blake canon then.

You may have already heard the single Retrograde - it made number 10 in Denmark, after all. It’s one of his strongest melodies and part of the middle section of the album that tiptoes up to the edge of the dancefloor. The Eno hook-up on the pulsing almost wholly instrumental Digital Lion features a cut and paste repetition of the title emerging then disappearing into the mix as well as a klaxon. Hands-in-the-air techno, it most certainly is not though. You’d be hard pressed to detect the fingerprints of Eno here though, although it’s unfair to merely expect his trademarks soundscapes on everything he touches. He’s far more than a one-trick pony. 

The delicate skeletal piano-led ballad Dim is another low-key delight that doesn’t try too hard.

The slinky house rhythms of Voyeur up the ante once again although by this time you may tire a little of Blake’s constant use of repetitive central vocal lines wandering in and out of the mix. If there’s a flaw here then it’s this dogged determination to pull off the same stylistic trick again and again.

There’s more melancholia and introspection on the Our Love Comes Back which once again melds piano with electronica.

The Big Boi-sampling bonus track Every Day I Ran is a welcome injection of energy on another steadfastly downbeat collection from Blake. 

He claims that there is more light and shade this time around, but if that’s so then the more upbeat moments come from outside sources. This may be as divisive as the first album, but it won’t come as such a shock.

8/10

STEVE HARNELL

Now this is a work of art - even if I am a bit biased. In homage to one of my favourite Manc miserablists and the Half Man Half Biscuit song of (almost) the same name, my wife has come up with this fantastic Joy Division Oven Glove. They’re completely hand-stitched and homemade. The stitching took quite a while, but I think you’ll agree it was totally worth the effort.

Twitter went nuts when I shared this last night and the positive feedback is still coming thick and fast. Now the question is, what does my missus Laura attempt next? Maybe a Tom Waits apron or Leonard Cohen slippers, maybe something Screamadelica-related. That’ll look nice.

And for the uninitiated, here’s the original Joy Division album cover and a link to the song that inspired Laura.

“I enjoy the airport and the shuttle bus, not necessarily the hotel room at the end…”

There you have it from the man himself - Tony Law’s comedy is more about the journey than it is the destination.

Willfully ripping up the rulebook, he certainly lives up to his billing from fellow comic Stewart Lee as “the Sherpa of stand-up.”

Eschewing punchlines for wild flights of surrealistic fancy, it’s not easy to get down on paper exactly how Law makes it from A to B. He’s certainly a force of nature on stage though and totally fearless, pushing his material into the kind of unchartered territory few of his contemporaries would dare consider.

He’s upfront about the lack of a linear narrative, too. After all, this show was titled Maximum Nonsense. His talent lies in off-the-wall frantic storytelling, mimicry and an odd timing that slightly brings to mind Harry Hill.

So we’re treated to a mock autobiographical segment where Law reveals his pirate and Viking heritage as well as a story which starts in an uncomfortable dinner party and ends in deep space.

Continually deconstructing his material throughout the course of the show, Law frequently commented on his own cult status, musing aloud what it would take to break into the mainstream then realising that his brain just isn’t wired in the same way as the arena-filling observational stand-ups of this world. There’s grit, too, behind the mock puzzlement, as the mean-spirited likes of Frankie Boyle were slapped down in spectacular fashion.

If there’s any hint of regular material to be found then it’s during a brief routine about his twins but even that was skewed into something fantastical.

That’s firmly blown out of the water though as the show builds to a sketch featuring several elephants arguing in a pub. Yes, really. And a final send-off saw the crowd waving their arms in the air from side to side as Law shone torches on plastic model elephants hung on wires from the ceiling. We won’t forget that in a hurry.

If it wasn’t such a conventional punchline, you could say Tony is a Law unto himself.

8/10
STEVE HARNELL

As comebacks go, Bowie’s return to the rock’n’roll fold after a decade of near silence has been a remarkable success.

The great man himself has kept his counsel, but he must be delighted with the overwhelmingly positive reaction to his guerrilla releases since the understated Where Are We Now? was unveiled to mark his 66^th birthday on January 8.

Within hours, the internet was awash with predictions about what the forthcoming album The Next Day would sound like. A nostalgic look back at his Berlin glory years perhaps? Even an MOR collection of artful ballads was suggested.

Thankfully, producer Tony Visconti immediately set the record straight – the cracked, vulnerable Bowie heard on Where Are We Now? was a red herring. The remaining tracks on the album, we were told, included full-throttle rockers and finds Dame David on fine, unabashed form. It sounded promising…

While Visconti, of course, talked up the album as being something good enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with Bowie’s work in the 70s and his Scary Monsters high watermark of the early 80s, he wasn’t exaggerating that this was a discernible return to form.

Half a dozen listens to The Next Day confirms it’s a fine, diverse collection on which every Bowie fan which find at least a handful of premium grade tracks to get their teeth into.

He comes fairly tumbling out of the blocks with the aggressive title track.
“Here I am, not quite dying, my body left to rot in a hollow tree…” he positively mocks those who thought his heart attack of 2004 had blown his flame out for good.

It’s a remarkable statement of intent with Bowie putting in a particularly passionate vocal performance.

In terms of trademark Bowie art rock, complete with skronking baritone sax, then the following track, Dirty Boys, ticks all of the right boxes. It boasts a classic middle eight, too, and an instantly hooky chorus. Earl Slick’s guitar lines are economical and very precisely played.

If there’s one surprise to these ears on The Next Day is that it’s two of the poppiest tracks that shine brightest. The slyly vituperative The Stars (Are Out Tonight) is a none too veiled attack on vacuous celebrity culture. It’s a real grower and (whisper it) boasts a singalong chorus. How very conformist.

Valentine’s Day is another straight ahead pop song, but none the worse for that. The Dame seems to be having real fun with the throwaway backing lyrics and there’s some great supporting guitar work as texture.

Less successful is Love Is Lost, where Bowie inhabits the character of a disturbed young woman. Zachary Alford’s drums steal the show on a tune slower than the rest to reveal its charms.

After the relatively frantic opening exchanges, Where Are We Now? offers up some respite and grows in stature with every listen. It’s no ‘Heroes’, let’s not get too carried away here, but the closing refrain of “As long as there’s fire, As long as there’s me, As long as there’s you”  - as lyrically oblique as that might be – still packs a mighty emotional wallop thanks to Bowie’s delivery.

If You Can See Me, complete with speeded up chipmunk backing vocals, is the most obvious and successful return to peak period Bowie art rock. It’s an unrelenting steamroller of a track which rattles along at a million miles a minute. There’s still fire in his belly, for sure. Those who harrumphed at his mid-90s adoption of drum and bass with Earthling may at least get something from this.

The chiming I’d Rather Be High is another favourite. With a decided Britpop feel of chiming electric guitars and strummed acoustics, there’s a little Stone Roses shuffle to this knowing anti-war plea. The “I’d rather be fly…” line does sound a little odd coming from a pensioner, though, but certainly raises a smile as does the very camp Bowie payoff: “just remember duckies, everybody gets got…”

The baritone saxes are back for the 80s-sounding Boss of Me which returns us to the Ashes to Ashes era. I could have done without the slap bassline, and it’s one of few tracks here that feels like filler.

The mid-album drop-off continues with Dancing Out In Space. Driven by a finger-snapping amped up Motown backbeat drives it’s frothy but inconsequential fun.

Much stranger is another anti-war song, How Does The Grass Grow?, which follows it. Dropping in a vocal appropriation of The Shadows’ Apache is a memorable hook but I’m not too sure what Bowie was trying to accomplish with it.

The opening fuzz tone riff of (You Will) Set The World On Fire rocks you back on your heels and is the album’s heaviest moment. Leavened by another singalong chorus it seemingly tells the story of the Greenwich Village beat poet and folk scene of the early 60s although you have to scratch away pretty hard at the surface to reveal its true meaning. It’s another grandstanding, bravura vocal performance from Bowie, though, and a late highlight here.

Equally affecting is the emotive ballad You Feel So Lonely You Could Die – as overwrought as its title suggests. Hats off for the sheer cheek of including the shuffling Five Years drumbeat from Ziggy Stardust as a coda, too.

He rounds off with the blatant Scott Walker homage of Heat. Cut very much from the same cloth, Bowie and Walker make perfect bedfellows as feted pop stars turned art rock experimentalists. The song itself seems rather out of place from the rest of The Next Day. A square peg in a round hole. In a way, there’s a certain poeticism about that.

Nothing then to ruin the legacy of one of the great back catalogues in rock and a healthy handful of gems to add to the canon. Oh, and let’s not forget that if Tony Visconti is to be believed then there’s another full album’s worth of material already in the can. If those dozen or more songs are up to snuff then Bowie’s Indian Summer is complete.

Rating: 8/10
STEVE HARNELL

I’m a bit slow on the uptake here, but here’s the new tune from James Blake. Looking forward to the new album, Overgrown, which comes out on April 8. Guests include Brian Eno and the Wu-Tang’s RZA. What a pair. Apparently, RZA’s track includes him waxing lyrical about fish and chips and stout. An early April Fool’s Day joke perhaps? We’ll find out.

Tracklisting
‘Overgrown’
‘I Am Sold’
‘Life Around Here’
‘Take A Fall For Me’ feat. RZA
‘Retrograde’
‘DLM’
‘Digital Lion’ feat. Brian Eno
‘Voyeur’
‘To The last’
‘Our Love Comes Back’

After the low-key first song premiere, Bowie unveils the second song from The Next Day. Decent chorus, rockier guitars. Trademark Bowie and sure to be a grower.

Good news that the upcoming 13th Depeche Mode studio album Delta Machine harks back to Songs of Faith and Devotion and Violator. Jury’s still out on the first track released, Heaven. A slow-burner, maybe it’ll take a few listens…

Remarkably, in a couple of months, this will be 20 years old. Perhaps my favourite remix of all time and one of New Order’s greatest moments. Certainly a contender for best comeback single of all time.

Also, a reminder just how great Andrew Weatherall was back in the day. Shame he didn’t really go on to greater things after Screamadelica and this.

I’ve still not tired of the Amorphous Androgynous remix of If I Had A Gun from Noel Gallagher’s debut solo album after nine months of heavy rotation, so let’s dig this one out of the archive, too.

This is where the knob-twiddling duo of Garry Cobain and Brian Dougans - better known as the Future Sound of London - appeared on the scene with the Gallaghers courtesy of this monumental remix of Falling Down from the last Oasis album, Dig Out Your Soul.

Stretching well past the 20-minute mark, it moves through several seperate movements and takes Oasis further out into the psychedelic stratosphere than ever before.

Onwards…

Bit of a day for comebacks, eh? Sounds like a new Prince track here, too, to follow the recent Bowie activity.

The funky midget sounds on great form here. Tight as two coats of paint on Same Page Different Book.

Had to get this on the blog as soon as I could today. Bowie’s first new material in 10 years. Came as a complete surprise to many when it was announced in the early hours of this morning. Even better is that there’s an album on its way in March, too.

It’s quite an understated return. Almost sounds like the album closer in waiting.

Seems like the retirement rumours were all wrong. It’s nice to be wrong for a change.

I’m a sucker for a good mash-up and this certainly can’t fail to raise a smile on a dull Monday morning. As you can probably work out from the title, this throws in Macca’s rocking White Album standout Helter Skelter and Led Zep warhorse Whole Lotta Love.

Good work from our man Soundhog here.

As a Christmas present to fans, Pulp have realised their first new track in 10 years with After You. Well, I say ‘new’ but it’s actually an old song that they’ve returned to and completed with LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy.

Murphy’s fingerprints are all over this pulsing disco rock stomper, but Jarvis Cocker’s distinctly British lyrics still shine through.

Cocker has previously said that the band wouldn’t be recording any new material after their latest round of reunion shows, so this little compromise may be the final offering from Pulp. Merry Christmas Britpoppers…

Jack White performs I’m Shakin’ on Conan O’Brien’s show. Great fun - the “I’m noivous” line gets me every time.

One of my favourite albums of the last year. Tame Impala follow up their acclaimed 2010 album Innerspeaker with another masterclass in psychedelic rock. Lonerism mixes a dash of Lennon-esque whoozy vocals from Kevin Parker with a large dash of Flaming Lips.

And you won’t be surprised to hear that Lips producer Dave Fridmann is twiddling the knobs here, too, especially when you listen to the beefy drums and fuzzed-up bass.

RIP to the jazz great Dave Brubeck who passed away today aged 91. An obvious choice, of course, but here’s his seminal tune Take Five to remind us of his superb understated talent.

Tracey MacLeod may have reinvented herself as a restaurant critic who makes occasional sarky cameos on Masterchef, but she’ll never really better this televisual treat where she presided over this, the Stone Roses appearance on The Late Show when the power failed.

“AMATEURS! AMATEURS!” Genius…

Here’s a sneak preview of We No Who U R - the first track to emerge from Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ forthcoming album, Push the Sky Away, which is due for release next February. Pretty laid-back - you expect it to crash into a swelling chorus and it never does. Has he been influenced by Slade with his spelling, by the way? Thoughts everyone?

Where do you start with picking highlights from the greatest music movie of all time. Well, how about here? In the dim and distant past when Dylan could still cut it live, this is one of his most beautiful songs. It teeters just on the right side of sentimentality. Is that something in my eye…?

RESCUING ROCK’S WAIFS, STRAYS AND UNDERRATED GEMS…

It’s 1970 and Bob Dylan has pushed it too far. The sprawling mess of a double album that constitutes Self Portrait was given a huge critical mauling. The slapdash collection of covers and throwaway originals is his most controversial and reviled to date. Career suicide on four sides of vinyl.

Fast forward four months and Dylan’s already attempting to right the wrongs he’s done to singer-songwriterdom with New Morning. An act of desperation and knee-jerk reaction? As ever with His Bobness, the real story behind the album is more labyrinthine than that.

The truth is that the lion’s share of New Morning was already in the can by the time that Self Portrait hit record racks. In early 1970 Dylan had been approached by the poet Archibald MacLeish to pen songs for Scratch, a musical version of The Devil and Daniel Webster. Bob responded with three tunes - Time Passes Slowly, Father of Night and the ebullient title track.

The collaboration was short-lived, though. Dylan never fully connected with the play and a further dispute with its producer saw him bail out, taking his songs with him in the process.

However, those three songs were enough to get his creative juices flowing once again and formed the nucleus of New Morning.

Bizarrely, the new record was originally intended as Self Portrait II - another scrapbook comprising original material and a healthy sprinkling of covers. In the aftermath of the vitriolic attacks on Self Portrait, Dylan scrapped a whole host of retreads including sessions with George Harrison. Among the tracks which failed to make the cut were Yesterday, (Ghost) Riders In The Sky, Ballad of Ira Hayes and Mr Bojangles.

What remains is a diverse, charming and heartfelt selection that works as a perfect companion piece to the similarly easy-going nature of the previous year’s Nashville Skyline. Most intriguingly, the lyrics of many of these songs shouldn’t merely be taken on face value. While many allude to domestic bliss and the wonders of laid-back living in the country, on closer inspection Dylan often shows how conflicted his emotions truly are.

We begin, though, in uncategorically tender territory with the pretty love song, If Not For You. George Harrison had already spotted its merits recording and releasing it on All Things Must Pass before Dylan could get his version out. Folky with a dash of wheezing harmonica, it’s an overlooked Dylan mini-classic.

There’s more ambition in the narrative arc of story song Day of the Locusts, Dylan’s off-kilter take on receiving a Doctorate of Music at Princetown University. The man standing next to Dylan “whose head was exploding” is none other than a chemically altered David Crosby who came along for the ride.

And here’s where we get to some lyrical obfuscation. On first listen, Time Passes Slowly is a simple tale of home comforts. There’s something about that line “time passes slowly, then fades away” that suggests that Dylan isn’t quite as happy at kicking back in the country as might first appear.

Similarly, Went To See The Gypsy makes all the right noises to suggest it’s a retelling of being summoned before Elvis and his acolytes -  “he did it in Las Vegas and he can do it here”. There’s just one fly in the ointment though – Dylan never met The King and claims never to have even had the inclination. In retrospect it seems like an imaginary conflation of meeting Elvis, Jimi Hendrix and his own boyhood memories of growing up in “a little Minnesota town.”

The slinky waltz of Winterlude is delivered tongue-in-cheek as Dylan sends himself up as a newly-minted romantic troubadour. It’s cute though, there’s no denying that.

If there’s any hint of controversy here then it arrives in the shape of If Dogs Run Free. Once again, when taken on face value, it’s astonishingly ill-conceived with its hideous scat jazz backing vocals and banal lyrics. When you realise it’s a beatnik piss-take from start to finish it makes a whole lot more sense.

The title track is a corker though, whichever way you cut it. Dylan’s totally engaged with the vocal performance and it builds to an irresistible singalong chorus. “So happy just to be alive, underneath this sky of blue.” Joyous.

The conflicted emotions return for Sign On The Window. Underscored with a gentle gospelish backing, there’s an end of an era feel here. The death of the 60s counterculture dream? The shallowness of the rural idyll? It’s all open to conjecture.

One More Weekend almost returns to the quicksilver rollicking rock’n’roll of Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde-era Dylan. No hidden meanings here, it’s just pure lasciviousness. A little flat-flooted perhaps, but a lack of amphetamine sulphate probably accounts for that.

The Man In Me has the freewheeling (pun intended) feel of The Basement Tapes and there’s a brief lull with the rather non-descript Christmassy Three Angels. Dylan’s almost rapping on the latter but sounds a little non-committed.

The hymn-like closer Father of Night with its odd rolling piano refrain is little talked about, and at just 90 seconds long is almost served up like a throwaway. It captures the essence of New Morning though in a nutshell - light on its feet, multi-layered and unassuming.

Often trampled on in the crush to get to Dylan’s more revered Blood On The Tracks, you’ve missed a few tricks if you’ve given this up for dead.

STEVE HARNELL

Tracklisting:

1. If Not For You
2. Day Of The Locusts
3. Time Passes Slowly
4. Went To See The Gypsy
5. Winterlude
6. If Dogs Run Free
7. New Morning
8. Sign On The Window
9. One More Weekend
10. The Man In Me
11. Three Angles
12. Father Of Night

END CREDITS: George Harrison’s version of If Not For You from All Things Must Pass