Analogue issue 1

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:24

Page 1

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:24

Page 2

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:25

Page 3

Contents Features Ballroom Of Romance The Jimmy Cake Pantha Pu Prince Simple Kid Buck 65 16 Devotchka 20 The Go! Team 22 Lovebox 24 Electric Picnic 26 Final Fantasy 28 Deerhoof 36 Architecture in Helskinki 34 Paul Hartnoll 40 Malajube 35 Dan Le Sac vs 44 Scroobius Pip Simian Mobile Disco 46 Fionn Regan 48 The Shins 50 Sea Sick Steve 52

6 8 12 13

Regulars Editorial Pubs & Clubs Album reviews Retrospective Competition Backtracks

4 54 56 64 62 66

03

last 3 pages!:Layout 1

25/09/2007

18:48

Page 1

Editorial Analogue began many months ago as a hopeful idea in my head. I wanted to create a forum for students and young people in general to talk about the music they love which may not necessarily get much coverage in other student publications or in other forms of music journalism in Ireland in general. Analogue aims to be a place where you can read about interesting and ground breaking acts predominately in the realms of indie and electronica, some that you know and many you wonʼt. What started out as a modest plan for a 36 page magazine grew and grew to become what you see before your eyes right now, 72 pages containing nothing but the highest calibre artists both at home and internationally.

In my wildest dreams, I never expected to land some of the interviews that we did and Iʼm really glad that Analogue has the freedom to publish these interviews in their entirety or very close to it. Personally, I like the idea of being able to hear a musician talking about their music and influential subject matter in their own words, not just a writerʼs interpretation of what they think they might be saying. Analogue tries a few new things both with design and with styles of writing. Thatʼs not to say that they all work but this is a student publication after all, so everything doesnʼt have to be perfect. At the end of the day, weʼre young adults expressing our opinions about a subject very close to our hearts.

One thing that really stood out as I was working on Analogue over the summer was something that Paul Hartnoll said.

What he referred to as “the arrogance of youth” and the desire of younger generations to do things their own way and challenge the existing ways of doing things. This is essentially the main aim of Analogue, to explore the boundaries of modern music journalism without pretension and introduce our readers to some musicians, which we think deserve your attention.

Brendan McGuirk Analogue Editor

Staff Editor: Brendan McGuirk Assistant Editor: Carolyn Power Web Editor: Gareth Stack Design: Brendan McGuirk, Chris Flynn Advertising Executive: Nicola OʼDwyer Illustrations: Sarah Jane Comerford Writers: Gareth Stack, Conor OʼNeil, Steven Lydon, Paul Bond, Sinéad Bevan, Shauna OʼBrien, Nick Johnson, Conor McQuillan, Ailbhe Malone, Andrew Booth, Carolyn Power, Gareth Stack.

Photography: Kate Southall, Ronán Misteil, Eoin OʼBraoin, Brendan McGuirk.

Many thanks to: Nicola for sorting out the ads, Gareth for being there when I need him, Conor for transcribing a shit load of interviews, Sarah for her wonderful art, Jim Carroll for all the advice and encouragement along the way, Michael in POD for everything, Laura @ Warner, Cillian @ Lakota, Peter @ Vital, & Dan / Liza / Orla @ Friction. And generally everyone Iʼve come in contact with as a result of this magazine.

Contact: www.analoguemagazine.com / analoguemagazine@gmail.com

04

This Magazine is fully recognised and part funded

by Trinity Publications and claims no special rights or privileges.

All serious complaints to: Editor, Analogue Music Magazine, D.U. Publications, House 6, Trinity College, Dublin 2.

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

You may have seen our name on the back of the rag-week tees last year or heard our name on T:FM!

16:25

Page 5

www.japsax.com customerservice@japsax.com 087 239 2034

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

If you find yourself fed up with the current ʻcatch-upʼ nature of the Irish music situation, you have two choices: bitch about it or push for change. Bitching may of course result in some interesting arguments down the pub: pushing for change inevitably has far more satisfying repercussions.

One such result is the fantastic alt-music club The Ballroom of Romance. Currently located in the basement of Portobello bar The Lower Deck, this gig has been going strong from 2003 to date, consistently offering a savage choice of left-of-centre music makers and a much better deal for the performers themselves than is usually found in the venue-booking scenario around Dublin. So far, the Ballroom has been home to diverse Irish and international groups like Halfset, Tychonaut (formerly The Tycho Brahe) and LITE, among others, and looks set to remain a much-needed centre for innovation in the sometimes stagnant Dublin scene.

At the bottom of the Ballroom itself you will find Allen Blighe. A musician who first became disillusioned by gig booking and club practices when in the band Holy Ghost Fathers – the band that now curates the Club – Blighe and his bandmates found that securing venues to play wasnʼt just difficult, it was little more than a moneymaking operation that benefited promoters and venues, but left the musicians with something of a raw deal. As Blighe put it himself before the most recent Ballroom gig, the original Ballroomers were sick of the “pay to play system: the bands have to hand over money to book a venue and then the venue promoters push all the responsibility onto the bands to promote themselves and make the money back. So itʼs easy money in a way. So we were getting very dissatisfied with this and having trouble booking venues in general, and we thought weʼd have a go in doing this ourselves.

And we noticed The Lower Deck. Itʼs a great place because you can pretty much do what you want… We

06

16:25

Page 6

wanted to bring in bands from all over the country, and we also wanted to treat the bands properly.

We give the bands an even cut on the door, and the club isnʼt run on a profit basis: any money over and above goes for future losses, like if a gig doesnʼt pan out, we have to have a kitty to work from.”

Since the Ballroomʼs beginnings, it has gone from strength to strength in terms of the crowds it can draw and the acts it can bring to its stage.

The last outing, Ballroom #69, was a night of guitar-led instrumentalism and showcased Aeromodeller, Galwegian group The Ghostwood Project and cult Japanese group LITE, on the back of their new album Filmlets. As soon as you enter the Lower Deck basement venue, you can understand its appeal: as Allen himself said, “itʼs like a friendʼs shed with a bar”. Itʼs small, but with the feel of being intimate rather than cramped, and the simple stage and bar really bring home the fact that, when the music is this good, you donʼt need anything else in your venue. The

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:25

€10 cover charge is extremely reasonable for three band sets, and itʼs always nicer to pay cover charges when you know the money is going to the musicians themselves. There was also a free sampler CD for the first hundred ticket buyers, and taking into account the excellent atmosphere and the inventive between-set PA music – including a delightfully surreal Father Ted electro track – itʼs a tenner well parted with. The sound engineering was very impressive given the small venue, and while the bands were excellent, it was their enjoyment of playing the gig that really kept the atmosphere up throughout the night.

An entire gig of solely instrumental alt-rock is not to everyoneʼs taste, and the biggest challenge is keeping the sets from bleeding into each other without the identifying feature of lyrics and choruses. The Ballroom bands were clearly chosen with this challenge in mind, and though LITE were the much-anticipated headliners, the Irish groups Aeromodeller and The Ghostwood Project were more than capable of bringing their own sound to the fore - to the obvious enjoyment of an extremely receptive and engaged crowd.

Aeromodeller were the first onstage: having played in different bands before, they came together for their first gig as Aeromodeller that night, playing a tight set that featured blinding drums and an inspired Hawaii Five-0 cover to round off their appearance.

Following a PA interval it was the turn of Galway group The Ghostwood project to take the spotlight. No strangers to a live set, the trio has already played support slots for the Redneck Manifesto, Jape and iForward, Russia! – and watching them do their intense sonic thing on the Ballroom stage, itʼs easy to see why their upcoming October album is so highly anticipated.

Another brief PA interval as the stage was set up again (this was the one with the Father Ted mix track, another high point of the atmosphere) and then headliners LITE finally came on, to an excellent reception. This is not the first time they have played in a Ballroom gig, and their first encounter with the club clearly left them with fond memories of Ireland – as their exuberant pledges of love to the country peppered throughout their set proved. Their sound was layered and rich, an interesting mix of riffing and sonic landscaping, and their stage presence was an interesting blend of professionalism and engaging familiarity with the crowd. To round off their set, they brought on members of Aeromodeller, and the resulting jam session really gave credit to the abilities for slick improvisation of all concerned. All in all, this was a seriously

Page 7

impressive gig; not just because of the quality of the music, but that of the crowd, the chilled, familiar atmosphere of the venue and the professional, not profiteering, approach to all aspects of the night.

So what is the future for the Ballroom of Romance? It certainly seems promising: the profile of the venue and the artists is being constantly raised with excellent reviews and an enduringly diverse and engaging range of musical styles and groups showcased in the Lower Deck. Their heroes may be the Hope Collective, but they want to stay away from any possibly political links, so they promise to stay focused on exposing quality left-of-centre music in Dublin, Ireland and the world, rather than running with the usual promotion scene in Irish music at the moment – which as Blighe points out is more interested in “being two or three years behind whatʼs going on and trying to do a copy of it” in an effort to gain commercial success.

With Myspace.com and its ilk, the floodgates of new music have been thrown open to the weblinked consumer; but this can also be a problem, as there is now so much new music out there that most of it has no hope of being spotlighted and listened to without the assistance of left field club nights like Ballroom. As Blighe also states, it is unlikely that Myspace.com will ever produce commercial music; in fact, “you hear acts like Lily Allen and the Arctic Monkeys saying that Myspace made them and they just got recognition from downloads, but I think youʼll find if you scratch the surface that thatʼs not actually the true story.” So it looks like itʼs up to the Ballroom crew to showcase the bands that deserve to be heard, and with previous Ballroom attractions Duke Special, Neosupervital and Delorentos also managing to make something of a mark on the commercial music market, I think we can trust them.

As far as the venue is concerned, the Lower Deck seems to be the perfect spot for the gigs at the moment, because although they are required to bring their own PA system and the like, it is one of a minority of Dublin venues that would cater to this kind of setup – another notable one being the Boom Boom Room, where the Ballroom has also visited. But this is not to say that venue experiments wonʼt take place: one recent attempt to plan a one-off gig for an ethereal folk band saw the crew looking into booking a renovated church.

The attitude of the Ballroom crowd is that if they were going to move out, it would have to be somewhere special, and with the keen eye for a good gig setup that they have already displayed, you get the distinct feeling that this is a space to watch.

Carolyn Power

07

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:25

Page 8

The Jimmy Cake The Jimmy Cake were born out of the ashes of Das Madman way back in the year 2000. Since then the nine piece outfit have pushed musical boundaries with their particular brand of instrumental rock and consistently raised the bar for all of their peers. They released their first album “Brains” in 2001 and followed up the next year with “Dublin Gone. Everybody Dead.” Then after the release of the extended EP “Superlady” in 2003, The Jimmy Cake disappeared. That is until now. After a few recent live dates to blow away the cobwebs, The Jimmy Cake are now preparing the launch of their latest album.

Analogue catches up with them to talk about the hiatus, the new album, collaborations and their dangerous alter-egos, Badger Attack.

Paul Bond: So first of all, where have you been for the past four years?

Vincent Dermody: We were locked in a kind of basement for about two years writing an entire new album, from which we have subsequently dropped about half the tracks because, for want of a better word, they were a little too tame. We had three members leave over the past four years, some on of whom would have been the driving force behind writing a lot of the songs. So basically weʼve kept having to reorganise for so long that it is only now, only in the last year weʼve had any settled line up with any kind of settled coherency to actually get the tracks. Weʼve written two and a half albums worth of stuff over the past three or four years, just trying to whittle it down trying to get an album weʼre all happy with together. Trying to get the consensus of nine people together, all who have nine different opinions on pretty much everything, takes a long time. A very long time.

Paul G. Smyth: One of the members, Simon [OʼConnor], who was pretty much the driving force of a lot of the tracks, he would have been playing guitar, bouzouki, banjo, and we had another member who was a trumpet player who also played bouzouki and banjo.

Once they were no longer in the picture a lot of that material changed. At lot of the reasons for playing that material would change. There was a major adjustment period of people trying to find their feet again and once thereʼs any kind of reorganisation the roles that anyone had shift considerably. It would have been more of a guitar driven band up to that point and then once you start losing the string players then it has to filled by something else, but it takes a long time to figure out what that is.

PB: So what would be the main inspiration behind the new album, musically or otherwise?

VD: That would be an absolutely impossible question, because like I said thereʼs so much compromise between the members to get to a certain point. Thatʼs not to say that we would never compromise at the expense of quality, but obviously we have to compromise to come to some sort of nine person agreement, that you do have to leave most of your influences at the door to a certain degree and be willing to embrace others. So I guess the record doesnʼt really sound like too many other bands as a result because of that. I mean I canʼt think of many other groups. Nor does your playing doesnʼt represent any of your influences.

PS: No, no. It think people would be into certain bands or certain records at any given time but by the time itʼs been put through the grinder that is the aim of the people, itʼs become something totally different. Itʼs certainly become something that I would never have written. And no one member of the band, and no smaller grouping

08

within the band would ever write this stuff if it wasnʼt for everyone else. It can only really happen with that combination of people.

PB: So the fact that The Jimmy Cake is so large is a good thing creatively?

VD: It allows a certain uniqueness to emerge but at the same time it can be slightly frustrating when you want to draw something in one direction but you know well that youʼre going to face this opposition here, by the time you get over here it will be nothing like the point you hope to get to in the first place. Like I said weʼre all extremely, genuinely really, really happy with the record so itʼs fantastic. So it has to be a good process to that end.

PB: Well a simple question then, whatʼs the new record called?

PS: We have no idea. And it is a simple question, and itʼs one that we should have been able to answer for the last year.

VD: I think because the artwork has only really come into our possession for the new album very recently, and the artwork is extremely unique, and very iconic so itʼs kind of difficult to come up with some words to capture that and to represent the music as well.

Yeah so itʼs in committee at the moment.

PB: How do you think you fit into Dublinʼs music scene; now, and as you were before?

VD: Well our absence from the live scene for so long has meant that, like a lot of our peers from five years ago, who have either broken up or gone into similar hiding, and with a new kind of well, generation is too strong a word, but a confraternity of bands has emerged who we would have absolutely no connection with. So

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:26

Page 9

VD: It was just great for us to discover that we could actually pull it off. Again it was very, very nice to have an excuse to really push the limits as well and actually make the band this raucous screaming energy, it was just really deadly. I really enjoyed that actually.

PS: Yeah I think because of the approach to this album, and that most of the material was written back then, but we were still you know fine tuning little bits, polishing little bits and things, that every once in a while itʼs great to just do an hour and a half of just going completely ape-shit and walk off the stage afterwards and go “what the hell was that?”. And as with Damo Suzuki…

VD: You walk off exhausted, bleeding and sweating and bloody delighted with yourself, its great.

PB: Where did you get the name The Jimmy Cake from?

VD: It came from a nights drinking, we drank for seven or eight hours and just reeled off as many names as we could and then the next day when we went through it we just kind of decided what was the best one, The Jimmy Cake. The fact that it had meaning afterwards was very disappointing, we just thought it was a really nice random two words together that worked really nicely, but then it turned out to have various different connotations in various different countries. But yeah it was just a very nice random collaboration.

weʼre kind of isolated at the moment I guess to some degree.

PS: Yeah itʼs very hard for us to tell. We played Crawdaddy last week and the first time around we would have had some idea of numbers and we would have had some idea as to who our fan base were. You know youʼd see familiar faces, you wouldnʼt know them from anywhere else apart from coming to our gigs, but last week I had no idea.

VD: It was a shot in the dark.

PS: We didnʼt know who, if anyone, would show up apart from our significant others and all that.

PS: The idea originally was that the band name would change every time we did a gig. But unfortunately the first gig went down really well so it just kind of stuck. There were other names on that list, the next gig was supposed to be Joined Up Writing and after that was supposed to be Badger Attack. Although Badger Attack still is a really good name.

VD: We write under the name Badger Attack. Weʼre actually going to support ourselves someday as Badger Attack, thatʼs the plan.

PS: Thereʼs a serious risk of clearing the room with Badger Attack though, same people but itʼs a very different animal, not necessarily one you would like to be in a room with in the dark!

PB: Do you think it was received well?

PB: Whatʼs the www.thejimmycake.net?

story

with

your

website

VD: Yeah, yeah, it was great, went down well.

PS: Yeah it went from being ours to a cake website.

PS: We were delighted.

VD: Yeah thatʼs now, but when it was .com it was a gay porn site and now with .net itʼs the cakes.

PB: How did you find collaborating with Damo Suzuki Network back in 2005?

PS: Thank God for MySpace thatʼs all I can say!

VD: That was good craic.

PB: Do you have a predicated date for the albumʼs release?

PS: Fantastic yeah. Raucous, and there was no discussion before hand.

VD: The end of October. Itʼs been gradually pushed forward.

PS: It was early September.

VD: The only discussion we had was that there was no discussion beforehand!

PS: Heʼs a strange guy, but he brings a very particular energy to everything.

VD: It was 2005 at one point as well. (Laughs) PS: Thatʼs true.

PB: Once it comes out are you just planning on touring?

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

10

25/09/2007

16:26

Page 10

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:26

VD: Weʼll do kind of weekend dates, because thereʼs some daddies in the band now, and we are full time employed as well, so it kind of changes. Weʼre going to try and get to the UK, and try to get the album out in the UK as well.

Page 11

PS: Thereʼs a real energy there to get stuck into the next album already.

VD: If it does get out it will be the first to get over there, but weʼre going to put a lot into getting it out. I work in music so Iʼm just going to try and pull in any favours Iʼve ever been owed ever to try and at least get it stocked over there anyway, however limited a supply.

And then go over and do a few dates and see. We played London a couple of years ago with Caribou, it went down really well. We did a tour of Eastern Europe as well but that was just fucking chaos….

VD: Just to get rid of this stuff. Once itʼs recorded and done and we do a few shows then we know the stuff and we can just get working on new material. The band needs something to look forward to now.

Obviously we have a few gigs and all that with the album coming out, but creatively we need something new.

PS: Yeah the alcoholic submarine…. But itʼs tricky you know. We were lucky with that London show, it was a mate of ours, Dan Smith of Caribou, who out of the good of his heart forfeited half of his fee to help bring us over, ʻcause itʼs obviously expensive bringing over a nine piece support band from Ireland.

PS: The first rehearsal after the album release will be us working on the next album.

VD: Itʼs hard enough to get a support gig in Dublin.

VD: Basically the three people who have joined in the last couple of years have joined in the middle of working on this stuff, so theyʼve had almost, bar one or two tracks, not too much input. They joined at times when things were fixed in stone, so all they could do was add little bits here and there. So they havenʼt actually been involved in a song from the ground up. So itʼll be great for them as well.

PS: So itʼs not the most savvy business sense in the world, so we were very grateful for that.

PB: One of your best tracks is “Limestone Archie”, and RTE seem to have fallen in love with it as well and seem to use it quite a lot.

VD: RTE?

PS: I went over to London to see Animal Collective last year for the launch gig for their album “Feels”. I was always very impressed that they only played two tracks from it and the rest of the gig was the album that is coming out next month. Thereʼs a band that can actually stay ahead of themselves, I like that idea of getting stuck straight in and moving on. But of course we said that five years ago!

PB: When will you be playing again?

VD: Weʼve no specific dates, but weʼll make a big deal out of the album launch. Weʼll do that when the album comes out which should be the end of October. Weʼll probably find us doing a couple of Christmas dates and weʼll do a Dublin show after that and thenʼll be a Galway show.

PS: Galway, Cork. Limerick, wherever..

VD: Jurgen can threaten his students with bad grades if they donʼt turn out for the gig.

PB: Do you ever worry about things getting too predictable in your writing? I think that would be a main concern of a more experimental band like yourselves PS: Oh yeah, absolutely, all the time. I wonder how experimental we are, I donʼt think we are experimental at all actually. Thatʼs not a bad thing. I think we know what we are doing, I donʼt think itʼs an experiment as such. It may be experimental for somebody to go and buy our record. Weʼre an experimental band for other people rather than for ourselves. But there are certainly traps we know we fall into naturally but thereʼs always someone trying to pull the rug from underneath us at any given time. There are habits that I fall into at this stage, naturally enough being with the band for years there are certain things that I do in the band now, and thankfully thereʼs usually somebody else in the band whoʼs constantly trying to wrong foot me and snap me out of it. I would do the same for somebody else.

VD: And just try not to fall back into it. They are very localised clichés, but we do have our own set of clichés that we have to avoid like the plague. I think we are our own best watchdog as well to be honest. We lost a very good watchdog last year in Simon, but also on the flipside he criticised everything. (laughs) PB: Is this the first album to hopefully be released outside Ireland?

PS: Oh God… VD: Limestone Archie as in the choir recording really?

PS: Well over the years RTE have used the Jimmy Cakeʼs music for absolutely everything. I think we should probably bring the producers of “Would You Believe” to court! But yeah weʼve had our stuff show up in the maddest of places.

VD: Do you have any specific examples of what they are producing with “Limestone Archie” in it?

PS: Weʼre looking for names here!

PB: I think they just use it in the background in a few shows. I just frequently hear it and recognise it.

PS: I remember seeing some trailer for some documentary and it was Bishop Tutu talking about the IRA and it had a track of ours that had only just come out on the “Other Voices” CD going on in the background. But we never hear about that, we never hear anything.

Itʼs certainly not reflected in our thirteen cent royalty check we get every six months. (laughs) PB: Have you ever tried to perform “Limestone Archie” live?

VD: There was talk of it, there was definitely talk of it. I was just down at the Archie in questionʼs sixtieth birthday at the weekend.

Archie is the conductor of the choir, Jurgen from the bandʼs father.

Loads of the choir were there and I met a couple of them, they were still up for it.

PS: Well we are probably going to launch the album in Tripod, but we were thinking at the time if we did it in Vicar Street we would just have the choir sitting in whatever seats they were in, dotted around the balcony and then at some point when we do “Limestone Tiger” theyʼd just stand up and sing out from wherever they happen to be sitting. If suddenly the person beside you just stood up and took out their sheet music, it would scare the shit out of everybody! (laughs)

The as yet untitled new Jimmy Cake album will be out (hopefully) at the end of October.

Paul Bond

25/09/2007

16:26

Page 12

Pantha du Prince

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

High up above the musical world orbits a stellar object, a man who peers down on that which is below. With a large telescope he dissects and observes all there is to hear and see and goes about making something on his own, something new, something distinctive. “I want to create something unique” he tells me as we are sitting down before his set in Pogo at the Pod. So who is this musical virtuoso on a mission to broaden our ears and soul? Pantha du Prince. Who you ask? Well one of Germanys finest contemporary artists that is.

Pantha du Prince (real name Hendrick Weber) is more than your average musician. Hailing from the industrial city of Hamburg (“a boring city”) he has come to the vanguard of minimalist techno. Two albums have been released in the past number of years, the aptly named debut “Diamond Daze” and the sublime “This Bliss” which was released on the tiny Hamburg based label Dial earlier this year. So what does one make of this musical maestro? In person I find a demure, well dressed man all in black. Quiet yet polite he is unassuming and softly spoken. However over the course of the interview the full scale of this manʼs musical intellect comes to the fore.

Young Hendrick Weber had a musical revelation at a young age when listening to the likes of My Bloody Valentine and the proponents of noise pop. “It created a new atmosphere, a new universe” he extolls of this period of music. A musician was born. Over the years Hendrick moved in and out of the Hamburg music scene and bands such as playing bass for Gluhen 4 and Stella.

However it was on his own, making his own music that was his mission. “It was never a question of when Iʼd do it. I was always following my idea and instinct and it was always clear it would be art

or music but music it is at the moment”, so sometime at the beginning of the decade he sat down and Pantha du Prince was born.

Pantha du Prince is unlike many of his contemporaries. Here is a man who is influenced by almost everything he comes into contact with. Art and literature are only two of the elements that affect his music.

Quietly and contemplatively he finds the way to funnel these into his music. “How can I transfer these words, this moment into my music and how it stands in a club” he tells me is his goal as Pantha du Prince. The final product is a sound that evokes early winter mornings where the clear frost soothes the quiet, solitary atmosphere. It is the perfect musical tonic to a heavy night. He seems bashful when I consider it a modern day symphony but that is how it seems to the mind of this writer.

So how does Pantha du Prince fit in todays musical scene and his opinion of what can only be described, especially in the field of dance music as eclectic? “Thereʼs so much around that I have this blurry feeling of “Whatʼs going on?”” he replies, “you must dig deep to find what youʼre looking for”. However he wonʼt be letting that bug him.

Here is a man you feel revels in finding new ideas and sounds. Telling me about his recent work with the Animal Collective and looking forward to hearing recordings his friend made of tribal music in Mali you could only wonder of what this man will produce in the near future. So with a shake of hands and wishing him luck Hendrick Weber leaves us to wow the Pogo crowd with his sparse techno. This is a man to watch out for in the future.

Conor OʼNeill

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:26

Page 13

Simple Ambitions

“That was the tea arriving”, he says, leaning into my microphone as he pours us both a cuppa in The Villageʼs downstairs bar. “Got to keep it civilised, you know?”

NME thing, and then we started to fizzle, and they made a decision.

Itʼs weird, youʼre too young to really understand it. You get pumped through this gun, you believe that youʼre gonna do this thing, and then, literally a couple of months later, youʼre signing on the dole in your glitter tops and skinny jeans.

Ciaran McFeely, Simple Kid, or just plain ʻSimpʼ to his growing and vocal fan base, sports the flowing locks and wild, unkempt beard of a Corkonian Devendra Banhart. At the start of a UK tour to promote his second full-length Simple Kid release, simply entitled SK2, ʻThe Kidʼ is preternaturally friendly and self-possessed. Simpʻs eclectic combination of down-home song craft “with a Talking Heads twist”, and at times radically modern production, has been compared to artists as diverse as Neil Young, Beck, and even late-era Beatles.

His music is self-recorded, self-mixed and self-produced, and performed with an unpretentious experimental enthusiasm. Lyrically, Simp is leagues ahead of his peers; songs like ʻSerotoninʼ, ʻAverage Manʼ and ʻThe Commuterʼ stand out as philosophical reflections on modern anomie. The night before our interview, The Village shook to an all too brief set, near hits from the first two Simple Kid albums intercut with a VJʼd duet with Kermit the Frog (Itʼs Not Easy Being Green) and a musical eulogy to British wrestling legend, Big Daddy.

Simple Kid is not your average rock star.

A: Do you think the music industry is suffering because thereʼs a high expectation on bands to perform so well, so quickly?

Analogue: Your band ʻThe Young Offendersʼ landed a major label deal from Sony when you were just 17, and made a stab at the UK market, what happened?

Simple Kid: Iʼm not sure if itʼs the same these days, but back in them old days, theyʼd basically throw shit-loads of money at the wall and theyʼd give you half a year to become an international success. We didnʼt. We did quite well for a month, that kind of classic English

SK: Iʼve had mixed feelings over the years. If you got me on a bad year, Iʼd say itʼs all terrible, but then I think, youʼre trying to do something thatʼs the best job in the world, and if it doesnʼt work out for you, you canʼt go ʻItʼs so unfair!ʼ. The reason itʼs unfair is because everyoneʼs trying to do it, and itʼs the highest prize. Iʼm really easy going about it these days. I played three days ago to about a hundred people who were looking at me like I was fucking insane; it was horrible at the time, but afterwards I was like, ʻWell you know, thatʼs the way it goesʼ. I donʼt have any overview of the music industry any more, Iʼve given up trying to predict whatʼs going on.

A: Did it save you from becoming Bono?

SK: I donʼt think I was ever in any danger of that. It probably saved me from becoming something far more ludicrous. My dadʼs always told me heʼs really glad that I didnʼt make it when I was seventeen.

Iʼd love to have been an idiotic popstar when I was that age. I think thatʼs what youʼre meant to be. Iʼm too old now to really go off the handle, but Iʼd love to have about ten rehabs, nine wives and seven kids behind me. Regrets, Iʼve had a few …

A: For the first album, ʻSK1ʼ, you released a couple of tracks with Fierce Panda, and then signed with 2M and later Vector. The new

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:26

Page 14

album is credited to Country Gentleman Recordings ...

SK: Itʼs my thing, itʼs basically me and two mates. Iʼve tried it major label, Iʼve tried it indie label. The indie label basically went under.

Just as we were getting to the point where we possibly could have had a hit, suddenly there was no money and it all folded. So Iʼm just trying it another way, and Iʼll probably just screw it up myself this time, but at least I can only give out to myself.

A: But you are being published by Sony, is there any pressure from them?

SK: They have absolutely no interest in me, which is kind of great.

You know, they just stick the label on and theyʼre probably not even aware that itʼs out there. Iʼm totally under their radar which is good ʻcause I canʼt bear them. My A&R mans name is ʻFlashʼ, and I just thought, “OK, thatʼs enough, I donʼt want to meet him.” This is a classic kind of thing, he hasnʼt even met me. Heʼs like, “Oh yeah yeah”, and signs the thing. If I ever had a hit, heʼd be like “Letʼs go to dinner”, and Iʼd be like “No, letʼs fucking suck my dickʼ.

A: You took a break between the first and second Simple Kid albums. Was that basically due to the label folding?

SK: It was a really weird time. The first album took a while to get into peopleʼs heads; it wasnʼt a big sensation, it was more of a word of mouth thing. It was this horrible summer where internally everything was going tits up, but the kids were just getting into it. But, instead of it being bigger and better, a load of my musicians [from Simple Kidʼs backing band] had to leave because I couldnʼt afford to pay them. So youʼre thinking, “This is great, this is great, itʼs really happening”, and the press is saying, “This is really happening” … but then you come back and thereʼs clearly less going on. It was just the awful internal explosion of everything. I think at the end of it, I just said, “Ah fuck that for a while, enough”. I was exhausted as well so I sat on my ass for two years. As you can probably tell from last nightʼs show, I quite enjoy just fucking going with it, and it gets harder to go with it the bigger you get, you know? So I think Iʼm kind of quite happy just chirping along like this ... itʼs hard to show racist album covers when thereʼs press people there [Simple Kidʼs stage show includes a slide show of the worlds worst album covers – theyʼre hilarious, but hardly racist) A: You VJ during your shows, which is very unusual for a small act ...

SK: I never realised itʼs VJing. Is it? I suppose it is technically speaking, yeah. Thatʼs so cool, Iʼm a VJ! Nice one. Yeah, itʼs just a way of keeping myself entertained really. I find it quite difficult to stick with an acoustic guitar act for an hour and a half, especially if everyoneʼs pissed up. You feel a bit ashamed coming out and trying to get ʻem to calm down. Iʼve kind of got enough material now that if itʼs a really mellow audience, I can go that way, and if itʼs just like last night was, clearly a riot, basically go with it.

A: You have this famous story that they always ask you about in all your interviews - your travels in the States, the Simple Kid moniker and so on …

SK: Yeah I mean, I used to do all this crap when I was first coming out. That idea about this hobo calling me Simple Kid was nonsense obviously; every person Iʼd tell it to knew that it was, but theyʼd print it anyway. But the American journey was true. Iʼm really glad that I did that more than most things, because it came after ʻThe Young Offendersʼ and it was a very confusing melt down. I was completely unprepared to go off to America, so therefore it was great, because it was unplanned. It was really amazing, kind of mind-opening ...

A: Did you have any hairy times travelling without a lot of money in places like San Francisco where thereʼs a large homeless population?

14

SK: I basically could get a hostel about once a week for an evening.

There was a car park I used to sleep in, in San Francisco, in the Castro area which is the gay area, which I always figured might be a bit more friendly, and there were no problems. It was uncomfortable obviously, but I was only twenty-three and elated at the fact that I wasnʼt sitting in my bed at home. I did meet the hobo that I kind of turned into a lie. I did actually meet this guy in Santa Cruz, who was one of the most fascinating guys that Iʼve ever met in my life. I was sitting around with him for the afternoon, and you couldnʻt say a word; it was his show! He used to laugh at me, ʻcause he had me pegged. He was like, “Oh youʼre just this ...” [he almost says Simple Kid]. He was a proper homeless guy, and he knew I was just this summer person who was there from my own choice. In a friendly way, he used to completely take the piss out of me and cut me down to size. If I said anything, heʼd have like a million more facts, and heʼd be like ʻOh really, oh really, oh da da da da.ʼ Ah, heʼs just my hero. Never even found out his name or anything … Iʼm not sure if he had a name. Over there, thereʼs no welfare so if you slip, if you donʼt fit a certain demographic, or you have a bit of bad luck, there you are. Itʼs not a nice thing but, what can you do, I dunno.

Maybe I can be Bono, and we can save these people!

A: Youʼve got a hugely varied sound, on both your Simple Kid releases, from psychedelic prog, to funky electronica, to acoustic, all these different influences. How do you balance such a variety of sounds on an album?

SK: I just write as much as I can, itʼs all set up at home. Iʼll go home in about a week, and Iʼll have a couple of days off. Iʼll hopefully spend one day doing absolutely nothing, but the next day, Iʼll literally wander into the next room and Iʼll press a couple of buttons on and weʼre off, weʼre recording. So itʼs something thatʼll come or it wonʼt. By the time it comes to album time, itʼs never finished usually, but thereʼs enough stuff; some of itʼs trying to actually do something genuine, some of itʼs just completely pissing around. For the last album, I wanted to go reasonably serious, so Iʼve got a funny feeling Iʼm just gonna go off the rails for the next one, just have the stupidest album of all time. Iʼve got the feeling itʼs gonna be more idiotic, do you know? Either that or else Iʼll go the other way … make a Radiohead album or something!

A: Whoʼs been an influence on your home low-fi, remix production style?

Analogue_section1(pg1-15):Analogue pages 1-12

25/09/2007

16:26

SK: Itʼs hard to know. Iʼm always aware that when I was growing up I was into artists where quality wasnʼt necessarily a major concern.

I mean I loved Nirvana and The Smashing Pumpkins when I was a teenager, but I also loved Alice Donut and stuff where the quality was so low that you could barely hear anything … Sonic Youth bootlegs where you couldnʼt actually hear anything, but youʼd convince yourself that you loved it. These days, there are people like Jeffrey Lewis; you can tell he just recorded it wherever he recorded it, and put it up on the net. Some of my favourite music is Daniel Johnson and all that kind of stuff. Itʼs just the freedom basically, not having anyone around going “Woah, you know if we donʼt rerecord it, we wonʼt be in the top ten!”, so you just go with it. One day if I got an opportunity with a really good producer, say a Squarepushertype character, Iʼd quite like to do something a different way, where Iʼm not in control, to see what itʼs like. Weʼll see, if someone offers!

A: Youʼve a strong online fanbase, who remix your work and are hugely enthusiastic about your career. How do you feel about the use of new technology and the web as a promotional tool?

SK: I wasnʼt one of the first people to do it, but it just seems a really obvious thing to do. I used to feel that itʼd be fun if we got people to do this. Ultimately, I want to base something on bluetooth, where if you come to a gig with your phone, and Iʼve got wireless or Bluetooth and Iʼve got a big screen, thereʼs going to be something happening. Itʼs got to be done, you know? I quite like the idea of people heckling me behind my back. Itʼll come up on the screen, “You are a tosser”, or whatever they want to say. Yeah, it is a promotional tool, but I think my instinct is to do it because itʼs really fun, and letʼs see what happens.

Page 15

from the man, but then theyʼre really unhappy that theyʼre not making money. I think itʼs great. I mean we were always doing cassette tapes when I was growing up and itʼs the same thing.

A: How do you feel about piracy in general?

SK: Iʼve absolutely no kind of worry about it. I think itʼs a classic evolution thing; itʼs happening and if rock and roll implodes and ends, good, you know? The top end of music is getting so safe and middle class, and just horrible and boring and tedious. The fact is that the top bands are all imitations of bands twenty years ago, imitations of their parentsʼ generation, and thatʼs the most exciting thing thatʼs going on … it deserves to go down the pan. Something will always come along. Youʼll always have something exciting, and the fact that we canʼt predict it, and that itʼs all not the way that it used to be is a good thing. Thatʼs the idea. Itʼs what punk was. People will look back on this. … when the something comes out at the end, people will look back and go, “It was really exciting, I was there” A: Is it possible to make a living doing what youʼre doing at the level that you doing it, where you have some exposure but youʼre self-releasing and producing?

SK: Just about. I can definitely survive until the summer. Youʼre just praying that another little thing happens. Itʼs not the safest feeling but, you know, whatever. Again if everything goes tits up, if youʼre really up against the wall, you can always go and get a job again.

Just do it, get annoyed enough with working every day that I sort it out and pull my finger out. You can live, I wouldnʼt say entirely comfortably, but you can do it if you want to do it. Itʼs a choice.

A: Any plans for the next CD. Funky and crazy?

A: Thereʼs a video a girl did for Serotonin, thatʼs up on YouTube …

SK: Yeah I saw that, ʻcause I look every now and again to see whatʼs there. It was really sweet, but Iʼve no idea what it meant … very dreamscapey. That means a lot more to me than an REM slot … for some person to actually choose to use my work for their end of year project, I think itʼs great A: How do you feel about mashups and the culture of appropriating stuff without necessarily reimbursing the original artists?

SK: Maybe not funky, Iʼm a bit old for the funk. Iʼm molding it in my head a bit. I was home for a day on this tour and I was just sorting through tapes and stuff, and I think I kind of know what Iʼm gonna roughly head for. Whether I do it or not, weʼll see when I start to actually sit down and knock it into shape. Iʼm not gonna tell you any more about it, in case it goes the other way, or I jinx it … but I think Iʼm gonna go poptastic, or my version of poptastic, whatever that is … weʼll see.

Simple Kidʼs Album, SK2, is available in many good record shops.

SK: I think the people who are giving out about it are utter wankers.

Theyʼll do interviews about how their music is about breaking away

Gareth Stack

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:02

Page 2

Buck 65 not a fan of Piracy Words: Gareth Stack Analogue caught up with hip hop legend Rich Terfry aka Buck 65, just before his July 5th Gig at the Hub. A: So how many times have you visited Ireland at this stage?

B: Itʼs been quite a few times and in fact in the last few years Iʼve been coming an average of two or three times a year. I donʼt even remember when my first visit here was. Iʼve been coming here fairly regularly at least for the last five years or so. Interestingly one key memorable show that I did here, memorable for a lot of reasons, some good, some

Photography: Brendan McGuirk

bad to be perfectly honest with you, was the Trinity Ball a few years ago with ʻThe Raptureʼ, ʻDizzee Rascalʼ, ʻElectrelaneʼ, and myself, I played with myself that night. And, that was a strange, strange, strange night.

The good thing that came of it is I met the girls from Electrelane for the first time, and we hit it off and became fast friends. Bringing things full circle from that event years ago to today, weʼre now actually working on some music together.

So something really great ended up coming of that. It may result in some new songs, conceivably even an album, depending on how well it goes. So for that reason alone Iʼm really grateful that it happened.

The one thing that I found really bizarre about that event – aside from all the obvious factors about how debauched and drunken it was – was the fact that there was a programme, explaining what was happening and giving a little background on the bands that the school had invited.

Maybe there was some kind of humour there that was lost on all of us. The write ups on each of the bands was basically slagging them off. So itʼs like, why invite us here just to diss us, and it wasnʼt just me, it was every single one of us. So we as the bands had to band together, so we ending up feeling like ʻItʼs us against them, and they hate us but weʼre here, and if we stick together you know, maybe we can make itʼ. But we ending up all feeling really alienated, and just kind of terrified by the whole thing. But a lot of us were strangely upset that we had this invitation, and you think logically that youʼve put together this event, you want to bring people out, so you think youʼd write something flattering about the bands, but it was all really really horrible, it was actually pretty nasty. Which, obviously we didnʼt like, but it just didnʼt make a lot of sense to us, if youʼre trying to promote an event that youʼre putting on yourself, to say bad and strange things about the acts. It was really bizarre, I almost wish Iʼd kept one of those

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:02

Page 3

programmes.

A: Can I just apologise on behalf of Trinity right now?

B: No problem.

A: You use your websiteʼs ʻLove Lettersʼ section, and MySpace and other digital media to keep in contact with your fans. You also recently have away your ʻDirty Workʼ EP, how do you find all these tools and technology help to foster community and develop a fanbase?

B: Well itʼs really an invaluable tool, and I see it work really well, and the great thing about tools like MySpace is you can do something, and then get a sense from the response from it in a variety of ways, for example, if I do a show in a given city, the next day Iʼll have something like 200 new friend requests, and theyʼre almost all from that city where I just played. In particular if I make a blog entry or post new music, you get feedback on it right away, and I really value that a lot. But, you know, although part of my thinking leading up to the decision to make a bunch of music available for free, whether it was the ʻDirty Workʼ thing through MySpace, or the ʻStrong Armʼ mixtape project that I did through my website, was I really got to the point where I believed that for better or worse, the value in music – or at least the perceived value in music, had just gone. People just didnʼt really see much value in it, and I was not going to continue to fight a losing battle or cry over spilt milk. So I thought well, if people donʼt really want to pay for music any more anyway then I might as well really try to adopt a new way of thinking, and try to find new ways to make a living, and as far as music goes, you might as well give it away for free, if people are not ever going to pay for it anyway.

Never the less, having done that, the response to that was so overwhelmingly good; I still get the sense that even though no oneʼs really paying for music, even just the gesture, that theyʼre not being fought by an artist, seems to mean a lot to people. Like ʻYouʼve met us half way on this, we donʼt want to pay, and youʼve accepted that, and we really appreciate itʼ. And so itʼs weirdly bittersweet in a way, itʼs really a Pandoraʼs box thatʼs been opened. You canʼt close it: itʼs not even worth trying. Mostly I try not to think about it. Itʼs gonna taken even a little bit of time still.

Like, for example on my last tour, I tried to help out my own cause. At a certain point, what becomes the focus for me is trying to make a living, and I donʼt really have a fall back plan, so I have to figure out ways within this one thing I know how to do, to try to get my rent paid. So on my last tour, I put together a whole bunch of bootleg titles, and I was selling them, and about half way through the tour, I started to see the sales go way way down, and you know it didnʼt take a genius to figure out it only took that number of weeks for it to spread all over the internet. But I was coming face to face with people who were walking up to the merch table, looking at everything that I had available there, and saying, ʻIʼve downloaded all this stuff, thereʼs nothing here for meʼ, and then just walking away. Itʼs kind of like, itʼs one thing just to know that itʼs happening out there, and itʼs invisible. But to be confronted with it, face to face, to have a person walk right up to your face, and to say ʻIʼve stolen all your art, and I donʼt give a shit, fuck you, you have nothing for me,ʼ and then just walking away, itʼs weird, itʼs really weird. Then later that night, youʼre on stage, and youʼre looking at all these people, and youʼre performing for them, and youʼre there to provide a service for them, and at the same time trying to remember all the things that are valuable and good about what youʼre doing in the first place, i.e.: ʻI love this, I love music and thatʼs why Iʼm hereʼ. But sometimes you have to fight off the feeling that your audience is also your enemy in a weird way. Theyʼre the people preventing you from putting food in your mouth. At the end of the day they donʼt give a shit about you. They will rob money right

out of your pocket if they have the opportunity to do so. You have to try really hard to not think about that, but the reality of it is, essentially thatʼs whatʼs going on, and itʼs gotten to the point, where people donʼt mind telling you right to your face, ʻI donʼt know who you are as a person, you may or may not be nice, but as far as what you can do for me, you know, itʼs just a matter of what I can take from you, and if you can make some sort of separation, and separate out the human part of you, and really think about it in terms of, I donʼt know what, cause itʼs not business, stealing doesnʼt really fit into a definition of business in a way that really makes sense. But if you can make the separation, ʻcause on a human level, to be confronted with that face to face, itʼs tough, so you kind of have to put yourself aside almost completely, and accept the fact that youʼre just this thing for people, and thatʼs a hard thing to accept, and it is a lot to ask itʼs hard to say Iʼm going to put myself as a person with feeling aside as I try to do this job, but itʼs what you have to do.

Nevertheless, like I said, giving away music for free, and trying to maintain that open channel of communication through MySpace or whatever else, does seem to have some value in it, and I wouldnʼt want to paint an entirely negative picture, because thereʼs a lot of great things that come of it too. For every time I essentially have a person slap me in the face, I also have another person who tells me ʻYour music has made a big difference in my life, and it helped me get through a tough timeʼ, or whatever, and when you here that, even just to know that someoneʼs listening, obviously that means a lot, and I do try as much as I can to remove my ego from what I do as much as possible. When you hear something nice like that, itʼs really just all you need to keep going.

A: Is it possible – youʼve got a major label distributor in Warner internationally – but as a semi-independent artist just touring and selling merchandise to survive, and to continue doing what youʼre doing?

B: I think, and I hope so. That basically seems to be the last real avenue thatʼs open to us in terms of making a living. I think itʼs maybe too soon to tell. To go back to what we were just talking about. Thereʼs a real hump you have to get over as a musician, to get to the point where youʼre touring and youʼre making money. And if you walk away from the end of a tour with a couple of hundred dollars thatʼs ok, you can get back and pay part of your rent. Thatʼs not really making real money, and so the one way you can help your own cause is at the merchandise table. Even in that situation, if you try to do something really exclusive, I mean give it a day, itʼll be on the internet, and people can and will get it, and theyʼll get it for free. So, I gave that a shot on this last tour, and the first few weeks were pretty good, and then like I said, it went downhill fast. I know, I was touring with a guy named ʻSage Francisʼ, who in the US is bigger than I am, and he wasnʼt doing a lot of business at the merch table, he had a lot of music for sale, but it was the same thing, it was all material that everyone had and they werenʼt buying, so you know, you become like a salesman in a different kind of way, and the one way a musician is going to make money is by selling t-shirts or something like that, you canʼt download a t-shirt yet. So if I can put some creative thought in what might be interesting for people. You always hear people arguing for vinyl, thereʼs still a few enthusiasts out there who really want to get there hands on a tangible thing, like on vinyl, but thatʼs a really loud minority. They make a lot of noise but it really is a minority, and when you really believe passionately in something, you feel that youʼre right and you donʼt feel that youʼre alone, but the truth is that you are.

Itʼs a fascinating thing, and itʼs a whole other discussion, but the DJ side of the game, and this is even starting to trickle into your casual DJ, is getting taken completely by Serato, this programme with this two digitised pieces of vinyl, that allows you to run your MP3ʼs off

17

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:02

Page 4

your computer, which again, most music that people have on their computer is stuff they downloaded and got their hands on without paying for it anyway. So now all you need to do is buy this programme which is pretty cheap, get these two cheap encoded pieces of vinyl and you never need to buy vinyl again. Apparently what Iʼve heard, in the few years that this had existed already, itʼs had a major impact on vinyl sales. For serious DJs and the casual collectors, you just donʼt need it, if you want to hear your music on vinyl, all you need is Serato, and anything that youʼve ever dreamt of that you want to play on vinyl you can do, so itʼs make an impact particularly with the hardcore people, and anyone thatʼs in the business DJʼs and MCʼs theyʼre all using Serato, or close to it, so what remains is those few hardcore collectors and fetishists.

A: Your lyrics are a huge part of your music, itʼs a cheesy question, but who would you say are your writing and lyrical inspirations inside and outside of music?

B: Inside of music I would say, I mean a lot of the obvious ones, Iʼm always taking inspiration from the people that completely blow me out of the water, I mean the problem there is that sometimes those very same people humble me to the point of making me want to quit. Looking at people like Leonard Cohen, whose early work is just completely devastating to me, or, thereʼs a really small handful of people that Iʼm utterly in awe of, in terms of their ability to write magnificent words. That David Berman guy from the ʻSilver Jewsʼ has some moments that are really, really impressive. Sometimes you know, itʼs little handfuls and people have little flashes of brilliance, and when I look at it that way, thereʼs a lot of people I could name that have one song, that completely floors me. Thereʼs a few I can look to that are like a rock that are always there that are always going to inspire me. I suppose if there was one it would have to be Leonard Cohen. Anyone else that mystifies me or that gives me a lot to think about or try to figure out. Someone like Captain BeefHeart, or someone like Thom Yorke even. His writing is so strange, and heʼs begged people not to interpret what heʼs saying, which leads me to believe that maybe he doesnʼt even write for the sake of meaning, maybe itʼs all just phonetics to him or something.

But itʼs interesting on some level never the less. The problem there is that I will listen and Iʼll analyse and if I come up with answers that demystify people, then itʼs like, ok, Iʼve finished with them, Iʼve figured out what their trick is, where theyʼre coming from. Outside of music, thatʼs more where I get my influence, and that can come from a lot of different places, and a lot of different artists that donʼt even work with words at all.

So like looking at the work of a really great photographer, whether thatʼs someone like Robert Frank or artists like Egon Schiele, or filmmakers like Andrei Tarkovsky, or Alejandro Jodorowsky, or Jan Švankmajer, or people like that, Iʼll watch their work and feel really inspired and feel compelled to sit down and write, but to be perfectly honest with you, and I take this as a really good sign, and hopefully as a sign of some kind of maturity or something, but the one thing that is inspiring me the most to write these days, and consistently so, is just real things that are happening in my life, more than anything else, even some of my old sources that used to work for me every time, sometimes theyʼre not even working for me any more, but itʼs real life, and just real things that are happening. Luckily my life is interesting enough that it is constantly providing me with inspiration and ideas, and Iʼm not the sort of person thatʼs afraid of trouble or pain or whatever else, and I like to throw caution to the wind even at the expense of my career, sometimes, maintaining like a real life. I know a lot of musicians, they have to surrender it almost completely. Thatʼs helped a lot, Iʼve been going through just some unbelievably weird things lately, and at the end of each day it just has me running for the pen and paper to get it down

18

more than anything else. Itʼs nice to be reminded about beauty or great ugliness, which a good artist can help you do, but when it comes right down to itʼs just my own experiences that I find that Iʼm writing about the most, and itʼs those experiences that are moving me the most you know emotionally and so on, and thatʼs good, I think thatʼs good, because Iʼve been trying to shed influence as much as I can and I think Iʼm getting there.

A: Trying to voice?

B: Yeah, my own.

A: Your stuff, at least in the last few years, is quite radically different from a lot of whatʼs going on in hip hop, have you faced resistance or criticism from the quote unquote Hip Hop community, for that more lyrical, more introspective, intelligent material.

B: When I started to break away, and I guess if I was going to pinpoint when that happened in more of a conscious way, I guess Iʼd say back around ʼ99. When I started almost consciously doing things that felt like risks, or that were taking guts. Shortly after I certainly was getting resistance, almost like a hostile resistance to it. And I had to, almost for the sake of my own sanity, hang onto a belief, that one day theyʼll get it. Lo and behold, from my observation, and my perspective, I think thatʼs happening now. I do admittedly get this really juvenile sense of satisfaction sometimes when I sit back and I look at the work of some of the same people, peers, who were criticising me, who are now doing what I was doing back then. I kind of end up saying to myself, ʻWell I told you so, I knew that in time, you would get to the same place that I got to a few years earlier. And it took time, and maybe at first people werenʼt quite ready for that yet. But musicʼs changing fast, and the world is changing, and more and more I kind of feel like people are getting it. Even if they donʼt necessarily like what I do, which I donʼt expect everyone to at all, more and more people are accepting that there is a place for what Iʼm doing, and a general just embrace of diversity these days, which again maybe the internet plays into that, but I think people are digging that more. Iʼm seeing more and more musicians becoming more and more adventurous. Even like mainstream ones. Think about it, itʼs hard to do this, we always were in the times weʼre in right now, and we enjoy being in the times weʼre in right now. And we just go for it, and we look to the people weʼve chosen as mavericks or whatever, and we trust them. And so, if Kanye West decides to hook up with Daft Punk, or sample Daft Punk or whatever, we believe in him, and we say to ourselves, ʻItʼs okʼ, and we go with it or whatever, and we dance. But if he or anyone else had tried doing that X number of years ago, it would not have been happening, and there would have been that same kind of hostile resistance, like ʻWhat the fuck are you doing?ʼ and ʻStop!ʼ.

But itʼs changing, and not only is that ok for the hot rapper of the moment to be getting into like French dance music or something like that, which you know, people would have got punched right in the face for that years ago you know. Now itʼs welcomed with opened arms. Itʼs amazing to me, and it does make me smile, and I do get this perverse sense of satisfaction from it certainly. Not that I had anything to do with it, you know what I mean, but just thank goodness peopleʼs minds are like opening up, and people are becoming a little more liberal. Cause granted, for a long time, Hip Hop music across the board, from your biggest commercial level, all the way down to your deepest underground stuff, was really conservative, and itʼs loosening up now, thank goodness.

Buck 65ʼs next album ʻSituationʼ, is expected in October. For more on the gig, and a snip from an acoustic styled version of ʻThe Centaurʼ, check out the excellent Nialler9 blog.

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:02

Page 5

Photography: Eoin OʼBraoin

Regina Spektor

Words: Carolyn Power Ireland is renowned as one of the best places to play a concert. We have the most energetic crowds, the most electric atmosphere, and a famous reputation for acceptance of unknown talent; but it was in a packed Tripod show on August 30th that I really saw what all the fuss is about.

Regina Spektor is a name that has surfaced only recently for many people. Her first album, ʻDemo Cassetteʼ, hails from 1999, and although she has worked consistently since, it was with 2006ʼs ʻBegin to Hopeʼ that she began to receive serious media attention. Her music has appeared in episodes of ʻGreyʼs Anatomyʼ and ʻCSI:NYʼ among others, and over here, ʻHotel Songʼ is prominent in Vodafoneʼs current campaign.

Of course, there are also scores of Spektor fans who have followed her career since her early days; and when you hear her records, or see her perform live, you can really understand why this is an artist who simply must be seen and heard. Spektor has been quoted as saying that she works hard to give each of her songs an individual style and approach, rather than having one overall style for her entire repertoire. This is welcome news to those of us fed up with getting a new album and liking track one, only to find out that tracks two and beyond all sound strangely familiar. And she has many methods of making herself and her music stand out from the crowd: she makes full use of her wide vocal range, throwing in the odd growl, yelp, nonsense words and beatboxing (used to excellent effect on ʻChemo Limoʼ, from the 2003/04 album ʻSoviet Kitschʼ), and mixing her classical piano training with blues, pop, rock and trad styles, and banging a drumstick on the piano or chair (see ʻPoor Little Rich Boyʼ, also on ʻSoviet Kitschʼ, for one of the nest known examples of this).

Sheʼs an avid fan of her adopted home of New York, where her parents, opting to escape Russiaʼs anti-Semitic atmosphere, brought her when she was nine, and she frequently fattens up a rich Bronx accent on her vocal tracks – which at any point can be a mixture of English, Latin, French and Russian lyrics. ʻBegin To Hopeʼ also saw the release of one of the best singles weʼve seen in years. ʻOn The Radioʼ, with its warm yet bizarre lyrics, coupled with an excellent melody and charming layers of piano, vocal accompaniment and strings, added scores of new followers to

Reginaʼs fanbase; and it brought the house down when she opened with a piano-only version at her Tripod gig after an a capella number.

Given the increased amount of production and instruments used on ʻBegin To Hopeʼ compared to her earlier work, it was amazing to see just how brilliant Spektor was onstage with just the piano, or even without any instrumental accompaniment. Keeping true to her left-ofcentre musical roots, she created beats for her first number and ʻHotel Songʼ by tapping on the microphone itself while singing, and the drumstick was duly brought out when she played ʻPoor Little Rich Boyʼ, an intense mix of offbeat tapping, piano and passages of lightning-fast vocal work that would put Beyoncé to shame. Much of the material came from ʻBegin To Hopeʼ and ʻSoviet Kitschʼ: but there was something in there for the recent convert and the die-hard fan alike; and they all greeted Spektor herself and each of her songs as though they were long-lost friends. Despite the thick heat of the day and the capacity-filled standing areas, there was a real shared energy of genuine enjoyment; and this was obviously shared by the artist as she chatted away comfortably between songs, laughed through the lyrics as the audience joined in, and used them all as a sort of impromptu choir for the a capella version of ʻHotel Songʼ.

But ʻRegina Spektorʼ is not only capable of upbeat, singalong classics; she also has a keen ear for a poignant, moving ballad, and it was calmer than a church in the venue when she began to play them. In fact, when someone near the bar rattled a bag of glass bottles during one track, there were so many dagger looks and acidic shushes that the possibility of a mobbing seemed dangerously imminent. These songs were executed not only with the requisite love or sadness, but also with a quiet sense of dignity and poise that brought an ethereal tone to Tripodʼs atmosphere. Another gem of the evening was her inspired cover of Lennonʼs ʻReal Loveʼ, her contribution to the tribute album recorded for the ʻInstant Karma: The Amnesty International Campaign To Save Darfurʼ CD. This really was something special, and brought goosebumps to even the most cynical of skins. It was also a rare event because she is usually slow to perform covers out of - as she said at the show - a fear of not doing them justice. For all of us in Tripod, these fears remained resolutely unfounded.

19

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:02

Page 6

Devotchka

Words: Shauna O’Brien Photography: Kate Southall Devotchka, a Denver based quartet whose unique brand of music has brought them critical acclaim stormed the tiny venue of Crawdaddy on the 24th of August in a display exuding vibrant colour and sounds that inter-railed through the melodies of Eastern Europe and South America.

Schroeder, hair garnished with a red orchid, embracing her fairy light adorned sousaphone and Shawn King who took his place behind them amid an assembly of drums.

Their array of instruments reflects their partiality for a fugue of different influences, South American, Eastern European folk and American punk with interludes of ballads and catchy pop. The culprit for creating such a unique fusion seems to be the monotonous ubiquity of rock that has greyed out in the US.

The band strode out onto the stage which was cluttered with various instruments, a barrage of percussion behind a beautifully ornate accordion, and two guitars at its side as a mandolin kept them company, all the while under the watchful gaze of the domineering presence of an upright bass.

Nick Urata took his position behind a retro microphone, scuffed acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder, bottle of red wine in one hand, waiting in muddied boots while the other members prepared themselves. Tom Hagermanʼs formal attire complimented with the delicate frame of a violin, Jeanie

“I was really burnt out on the whole rock nʼ roll formula of the US, and I just wanted to branch out and invite other styles into it”, Nick Urata, the lead singer admits to me, also crediting his move in 1997 to Denver as ample inspiration. “There has always been a really kind of diverse underground music scene there…mariachi and kind of some weird western acts have sort of developed (there). Itʼs always been sort of a transient city, people coming from all over bringing different influences”.

20

Having opened for such diverse acts as Gogol Bordello, Marilyn Manson and even

a burlesque show, they credit their positive reactions on the fact that they are able to “touch on a little something for everybody” although Urata admits that it didnʼt go too well with Marilyn Manson. “Yea, his fans are kinda jerks. Well,” he concedes, “theyʼre just aggressive; most of them (pauses and thinks) are marginalized twelve year old boys. They werenʼt ready for what we were doing”.

Having established an already formidable following in the US, they recently released their album ʻHow it Endsʼ in Europe and embarked on a European tour. They self financed their first three albums which were only released in the US and signed a deal with a European label which brought about the European release of ʻHow it Endsʼ albeit two years after its American release. A little over half way through this tour and they have already a rapidly growing European fan base. “Weʼve had really good reactions so far” Urata comments.

Known for their live visual spectacle as much as their aural one, they have spoiled their audiences with aerial artists, belly dancers and video montages to enhance

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:02

Page 7

their performance. Although on the tiny stage of Crawdaddy it would have been hard to clutter any of these in, perhaps explaining their exodus into the crowd, initiated by a nod of the head from Nick and acknowledged by Jeanie with a wry smile and a grimace as she manoeuvred her upright bass into the wings. The crowdʼs slightly confused gazes followed her off the stage down the steps and into the area where we all stood bemused. Immediately behind her was Nick his scuffed acoustic guitar in hand, Tom still grasping his violin followed by Shawn who had swiftly replaced his drums with a trumpet. Taking intimacy to unexpected levels, in true Mariachi style they broke into their South American infused song ʻWeʼre leavingʼ. Their arrival was greeted with an appreciative applause as they attempted to condense themselves and their instruments amongst the crowd.

As Tom Hagermanʼs fingers spider up and down the violin through a hopscotch of notes you cannot help but join Nick Urata in the admiration that he possesses for all the members of the band. “I was lucky enough to find some serious musicians, music students, players and these guys wanted to kind of give a go at it” he informs me adding that he “was on the same page”.

Jeanie demonstrates this musical dexterity as she freely trades her double bass for a sousaphone and vice versa while Shawn gallops through the rhythm of songs behind the subterfuge of drums but seems equally content to radiate the audience with the warm sound of a trumpet. Itʼs this vast musical understanding and bartering of ideas and sounds that allows them to create such a diverse and unique fusion that dips its toes into everything from Mariachi, Eastern European folk to American punk.

As they play through their songs a cheer erupts from the crowd with the instantly recognisable introduction into their song “How it Ends”.

The song is taken from the album of the same name and also appears on the soundtrack to the surprise indie hit ʻLittle Miss Sunshineʼ although its presence on the latter was attributed more to luck. “The director just happened to hear one of our songs on the radio in Los Angeles by chance and they heard something that evoked the sound they were looking for and we got in touch and started working together”.

A score composed and performed mainly by Devotchka and earning a Grammy nomination for ʻBest Compilation Soundtrackʼ in 2006, the band were startled by its success in America and Europe. “It was a very small independent production when it started so we were doing stuff over the phone, there wasnʼt any contracts or that sort of thing, nobody even knew if the movie was going to come out in a big way,” Urata reflects, adding that this contributed to his apprehension in licensing the bands music to the film.“I was so weary at first cause the songs meant so much to me before because some of them were pre-existing songs…so we had to kind of put a lot of trust in these people and I didnʼt know what the repercussions of that were going to be”. Itʼs hardly surprising therefore to discover that he turned down a Mc Donalds advert. Cringing at the very thought of it, he explains how “they chose a very personal sweet song” of his and he “saw it associated with a McRib sandwich”.

“I woke up the next morning in a panic” he exclaims, “I couldnʼt live

with it”.Playing through various songs from their earlier albums such as ʻUne Voltaʼ and ʻSupermelodramaʼ they also included ones from their most recent album of covers “Curse your little heart”. A risky endeavour for even the most accomplished artist to indulge in, Urata acknowledges that such an album can be a possible menace.

“Yea I thought it was really risky, cause we chose some sort of sacred territory”, referring to of course such legendary performers as Sinatra, the Velvet Underground, Lou Reed and Souixsie and the Bansheeʼs, artists generally cordoned off from emulation.

However, with the bands far left take on the songs, they managed to bring a fresh and innovative twist to them. Although Urata comments, “I met the guy from Souixsie and the Bansheeʼs last summer and he came over and I thought he was going to beat us up”, but he adds “he actually liked it a lot. So that was kind of a good redemption and I think most of the other people are dead so weʼre safe there except for Lou Reed (laughs) and he looks dead.”

After nearly two hours of vigorous performing they relented to the time constraints and allowed their instruments some repose before gingerly stepping over the leads, peddles and residing backstage instigating a perpetual applause from the crowd which degraded into shameless baying for an encore which is generally regarded as an audience right rather then privilege. Our efforts were remedied by the presumed return of Devotchka for one last song to satiate our short term withdrawal provoking syncopated claps and debauched dances to dapple the crowd.

Closure was brought to the gig in the form of Nick Urata raising his bottle of vino to the crowd and defiantly knocking it back, affording a drop or two to the pint glass of an audience member. As they embark on the final leg of their European tour the future looks bright for Devotchka and promises a lot more characteristically kaleidoscopic sounds.

“Luckily weʼre just finished up another album, weʼre almost done with it and that will be released quite soon, by the company in Europe and not two years from now” Urata assures me.

So will Devotchka be returning to tour Europe any time soon, I question, before the gig in Crawdaddy has commenced. He responds with prophetic words.

“Weʼll be back, if people like us weʼll be back”.

21

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:02

Page 8

Ninja and Ian from Brightonʼs finest dance mash- up band The Go! Team take some time out at The Electric Picnic to speak to Analogue about their new album, getting old and George Michael.

So Ninja and Ian, what do you think of the Electric Picnic?

Ian: Thereʼs so much detail in it. Like that Body and Soul bit- itʼs really cool.

Great. So if we may go way back to the start, to before The Go! Team. Ian, you were making documentaries. What kind of stuff did you do?

Ian: Oh, lots of stuff for American t.v. about mummies and dead bodies and space travel and sleep walking and stuff like that. Nothing great or major.

So did you kind of go to yourself at some point in time “Enough! I want to do something different. I know! Iʼll start a band!”?

Ian: Well kinda. Not really. We all had jobs quite well into The Go! Team. Ninja was in university. Everyone else had jobs and we would go off at weekends to do some gigs and come back on Mondays. It got to a certain stage, it got to a point where we were taking the piss too much and had to leave our jobs. So we made our leave.

Were you friends beforehand? Or was it a situation where you started making music and then it developed from there and asked people to come together and make a band?

Ian: Yeah Ninja: No! Ian: Oh, I was writing and wrote the music and asked people did they want to be part of it (the band).

So how did you go about putting the band together? Was it like the age-old method of placing a message in a magazine?

Ian: Most of it was that way. Ninja was from a message board off the internet.

Ninja: The message didnʼt say or ask if I wanted to be in a band. The message said “Female rapper needed” and it was for this gig in Sweden.

Ian: Oh so thatʼs how it started, for that gig in Sweden? When we first started it was about getting through our first gig. It was a way to get through this first show. That went ok and we thought “Letʼs do another one and another one”. We never even spoke about the future. It was just one week at a time.

I remember an article from the Guardian from over a year ago where you kind of said or at least implied that you were only going to do one album.

Ian: No no. It was more like I didnʼt want to be an old man, still making music.

Ninja: You are an old man!

Ian: Ha ha. Yeah.

Ninja: Well it depends on how old old is.

Oh so itʼs more like a mental thing?

Ninja: Well what I mean is thereʼs Iggy old and then thereʼs Wayne, Wayne Coyne from the Flaming Lips old. Thereʼs two kinds of old.

Ian: Some people are suited to getting old but I donʼt think that being in a band called The Go! Team and in your 40ʼs or later is suited…

Ninja: But then you can have an album saying “I Told You Thereʼs Proof in Youth!”

Ian: Ha. Yeah. Well we could get plastic surgery.

On that note, your stage presence is very eclectic-it looks like a great workout! Could you see yourself in 30 or 40 years time and then going “Damn! I need a new hip!”?

Ninja: I think I should release an exercise DVD. Iʼd say thereʼs good

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:03

Page 9

money in that!

So, going back to the music. Your first album Thunder Lightning Strike is full of samples. Did you have problems finding and getting them and getting the rights for them? In fact, where the hell did you find some of them?

Ian: All over the shop really. Iʼm always on the hunt. My ears prick up when I hear something and when Iʼm in a club or something…..Like that bit in Battle Rocket, you know “2-4-6-8-10”? I heard that in a club in Brighton one time and I just went up to the Dj and asked him what it was. Some things came from documentaries when I was working on them…a whole bunch of stuff really from all over the place.

Was it hard getting the rights for some of the samples?

Ian: When it was first released it was 100% illegal. It was just out there and when the record companies picked it up and were involved we had to go back and change a few things but it wasnʼt as bad as it could have been- but there were some real heartbreakers.

Did you have to leave some stuff and songs on the wayside as you just couldnʼt get permission to use them?

Ian: Nah. They all wound up alright. All the original songs wound up but they were slightly different in the end.

Was the process of getting samples easier with the second album?

Ian: Well we had a bit more knowledge on how it works so yeah.

Going back to your stage presence and your future gig here at the Picnic. You all always change positions and instruments.

How did that come about? Why the constant changing of roles?

Ninja: There are a lot of instruments and a lot of sound and not enough people so it has to be done really. If we had one person playing what needs to be played we would need like 30 people on stage and itʼs bad enough with two drum kits and six people onstage. So itʼs kind of necessary really.

Do you ever get sick of it and all the hassle of getting the kits ready and moving around all the time?

Ninja: Nah. But it makes things more exciting on stage as we like the idea that you can watch a song that we do and then you want to watch to see the next one as you donʼt know what we are going to do. So it makes you wanna stay.

Ian: There are so many bands around that you go to a gig of theirs and you pretty know what to expect. I even like the idea of swopping instruments in mid song, like, drop your guitar and run to the drum kit.

That must be great for jamming. Do you do a lot of jamming?

Ian: Well…you canʼt really jam with samples. I mean, you could jam. Everyone in the band could jam but Iʼm not a good jammer. We donʼt really for that reason but you never know. Good ideas could come out of it in the future.

Two years ago you were nominated for a Mercury Music Award. How did you find out and how did you feel?

Ninja: We were in America at the time and we got a call saying, “You might be nominated for a Mercury” Ian: It was the day before and we got a text about it.

Were you chuffed? Was it like a milestone in being part of the band?

Ian: I was chuffed, yeah. I mean it was kind of like “if nothing else happens at least I have the award and show it to my grandmother”. In fact, she has it!

And another milestone-you got Kevin Shields of My Bloody valentine to remix one of your songs. How did that come about?

Ian: Em, it just came about. I think heʼs a fan really and we have the same booking agent and he came to one of our shows and I met him afterwards and he was bigging us up. I think it was the production that he liked about us. He said he had an idea about making a Jackson 5 kind of band with more of a garage sound but that we had beaten him to it so we kinda went from there to remixing our song.

I was just thinking about side projects some of you guys have been doing. For example, Ninja, you did the song “Itʼs The Beat” with Simian Mobile Disco. How did you get involved in doing that song?

Ninja: I honestly donʼt know. I just kinda ended up in the studio with them and I had never heard of them at that point. I just spent a few hours putting down lyrics and it was just cheeky and cheerful and we had a lot of fun doing that and they didnʼt know what they were going to make of it. I didnʼt know what they were going to make of it and it was literally a couple of weeks later they sent me an email with two songs for me. One was called “Hot Dog” and the other was “Itʼs the Beat” and it had really bad dirty basic rap lyrics. “Hot Dog” was made from a song I did in school and it was really fun and they were really fun guys and great fun to work with. They had a room full of gadgets and all!

Could you see yourself doing your own stuff in the future?

Recording a solo album possibly?

Ninja: I was writing my own stuff before I was in the band and obviously thatʼs not going to stop, so maybe sometime in the future, yeah.

Has The Go! Team given you a fresh impetus to do that? A spur perhaps?

Ninja: Not so much a spur but touring has made me listen to stuff that I wouldnʼt normally listen to. Just looking for sounds like. Just watching bands I wouldnʼt normally watch, and that has been a real influence on me. I think itʼs difficult as a normal person watching tv and reading magazines…youʼre exposed to only a bit, so being in The Go! Team has exposed me to more.

Have you discovered new bands while touring?

Ninja: Not really. Itʼs a case of “I like that” and “I definitely donʼt like that”. Itʼs easier for me to pick out the negative points than it is the positive because a lot of people arenʼt really doing anything original and the people who are are not really known or are on very early at a festival like this. You have to go out of your way. You have to be told about someone or someone has to give you something specifically. Thatʼs the way it is for me anyway. I wonʼt go out of my way to find someone. People have to give me pointers otherwise itʼs way too hard to look.

There are so many different mediums nowadays that it is almost like a haze out there. You have to search and grope around almost.

Ian: People are drowning in information, arenʼt they? Theres waaay too much choice.

So finally, talking about influences and music out there, do you have any musical guilty pleasures?

Ninja: I probably have got loads. Like, I really like George Michael and Ian doesnʼt like me saying that in interviews! But itʼs out there now and thereʼs nothing you can do about it Ian!

Conor OʼNeill

23

Lovebox Festival Malahide Castle, 21/07/07 The LoveBox Festival, 5 years old in London, came to Ireland this year for the first time and set up camp in the expansive grounds of Malahide Castle with an impressive line-up for a one-day event

in Ireland: Groove Armada, Super Furry Animals, The Rapture, Just Jack, Toots And The Maytals and Ireland’s own Jape.

For those unfamiliar with ‘the best weekender in London’, the festival is the brainchild of Groove Armada, headliners of this year’s Irish inception. The English duo (Tom Findlay and Andrew Cocup, aka Andy Cato) have obviously invested a lot of time and effort in establishing the festival, since their only releases since 2002 have been a greatest hits album in 2004 and this year’s Soundboy Rock - an album which, with the release of their new single Song 4 Mutya, has seen them top UK airplay charts recently. Rumours (admittedly started by the duo) claiming that tracks they are working on for Kylie Minogue’s comeback album, slated for release later this year (Christ-

20:03

Page 10

mas #1? You heard it here first…) are amongst the best they have ever produced.

Whether they hit the heights of I See You Baby or the Grammy-nominated Superstylin’ remains to be seen, but given the number of commercials and video games Groove Armada have soundtracked, and their origins in a London club which they founded, it perhaps comes as no surprise that they have embarked upon the entrepreneurial challenge of taking on the big music promoters in their most lucrative market: summer festivals.

The aim of the festival this year was to ‘celebrate and recreate the atmosphere of the Summer of Love in ’67, 40 years on’. (Well, it couldn’t have been any worse than the unfortunate 25th Anniversary

Woodstock.) I can’t say definitively whether or not Malahide lives up to San Fran or Woodstock since I haven’t been to either and can’t travel back in time; but the wooded grounds were a nice backdrop for what was, probably, a better and more colourful than average array of side-shows and food stalls – one proclaiming to have homemade lasagne with ‘all of the taste, none of the meat!’ – and the atmosphere was probably as good as it could have been given the overcast, breezy weather.

Ronán Místéil

25/09/2007

Photography:

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:03

Page 11

I mean, would Hendrix’s set at Woodstock be remembered so fondly if a blazing sunset had been replaced by thundery showers and a 40% chance of lightning, with the weather expected to stay stormy for the rest of the weekend? Who knows…There is a more direct parallel in that the original Woodstock was in fact organised by two young New York businessmen, and while eighty quid isn’t exactly a 1967 kinda price, it’s pretty decent for a day of dance, rock, reggae/ska, pop, funk, pop-punk and electric hard-house…

Though this review focuses on the Main Stage (which is where I spent most of the day), the other 3 stages/tents boasted some of Ireland’s best DJs – as you’d expect, when Groove Armada decide to throw a party. Toots Hibbert, after his long and influential career going right back to the start of reggae’s emergence and global expansion, must have gaped at going onstage before Just Jack.

While Jack may have assumed the title of ‘greatest urban British lyricist’ from Mike Skinner (and, apparently, Shakespeare) thanks to the Skinner’s implosion and Allsop’s ability to bring his electronic and hip-hop influences to catchy but essentially pop tunes such as Writer’s Block, new single No Time and crowd favourite Stars In Their Eyes, he doesn’t exactly have back catalogue to match that of The Maytals. However, if the lyrics of Stars In Their Eyes are anything to go by, he has a better chance of coping with the moderate success he’s had so far and forging a longish career than Skinner. Someone had the initiative to hand out free star-shaped sunglasses – they were out in force for Jack, and the crowd did try to sing along even during the strangely soppy, weak attempt at a feel-good summer hit that is Glory Days.

and not because of the cool breeze outside.

The final say was left to Groove Armada who were obviously the main attraction for most of a crowd which was, on average, a few years older than me – people for whom Groove Armada were part of the house music revolution when they were still students, and clubbing like it was 1999. All the hits were pumped out with aplomb and rapturously received by a crowd probably relieved that the grey clouds overhead had not yet bucketed down as they had at Marley Park during Daft Punk’s euphoric set last summer (that rain probably saved me, to be fair). Most of new album Soundboy Rock was played and the crowd bounced in appreciation bordering on adulation, with screams of recognition as the first bars and beats of Superstylin’ reverberated across the grounds.

Whether or not LoveBox Dublin was a commercial success for Groove Armada (and I have no idea), the pair have already announced that it will return next year, and certainly with the handy DART line to and from the city centre I see no reason to change venue – hell, if we don’t get mucky next year we’ll all be back in Dublin in time for a club, the transport was so well organised thanks to extra latenight carriages. I’m actually looking forward to it, because Groove Armada threw a great party – even though The Rapture stole the show.

Conor McQuillan

There was just about time to grab a free drink from an energydrink stall before the band I was most looking forward to – a poppunk explosion from New York, The Rapture. I shouldn’t have bothered with the drink, because even from the first drum beats and bass lines the band exuded an energy that the crowd fed off - and the drink was disgusting, too. Fantastic tunes like Wooh Alright Yeah Uh-Huh (the tragedy that ‘people don’t dance no more’ must have been set right thousands of times by this infectious and adventurous song, complete with cowbells and killer hooks), brassy new number Get Myself Into It and of course hits like House Of Jealous Lovers from critically acclaimed debut album Echoes (still bristling with raw energy in the live setting, where it counts most) should ensure that this band keep going for a long time to come. And naturally, having a certain ex-Trinity student (not to mention, though of course I will, brother to my cousin’s wife) called Paul McGuinness as manager should help – seemed to go well for his other pop-punk upstarts, anyway.

Next to the main stage were Welsh electrocome-psychedelic rockers (how often do you get to say that?) Super Furry Animals, and although I have some of their records and would doubtless have enjoyed them, they were up against a DJ set from The Rapture in the Dance Tent – no contest. The Rapture are as good on the decks (/laptop) as on guitar, bass, drums, keyboard and cowbell, remixing the usual suspects (Daft Punk, etc.), their own tracks (still fresh in our heads from the invigorating live set minutes before) and, of course, tipping a hat to the ringmasters for the day, Groove Armada. The tent was heaving –

25

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

Itʼs more than just a festival they say. Indeed theyʼre right. Itʼs a magical mystery land populated by hippies, monks and if you believe some aliens too! You can spend the whole weekend exploring the various tents and venues and even the forest surrounding and youʼre bound to find something new and fabulous. Which is what I did. Nestled behind some trees I found the most relaxing and calm campfire from where every night was spent whiling away talking and drinking with friends and strangers alike. And thatʼs another thing. Everyone is SO nice at the Picnic.

There is seemingly an unwritten code of goodness which cannot possibly be violated by the sheer godill of everyone involved. Hell, even the security are nicer than say Poxygen and any other festival around. And that is the beauty of the Picnic. You may come for the horrendous amount of good bands the Picnic pulls every year or like me you can go to wallow in the happiness and friendliness of everyone involved. Until next year.

Conor OʼNeill

26

The Beastie Boys played a weirdly unsettling set, seemingly a half realised sneeze, as if they were unsure which of their guises they would appear as tonight or maybe they were just fucking with us.

The early thrash was there as was the masterful middle year hip hop, as was the sub Fun Lovinʼ Criminals funk set of their next album. It left the crowd ugly and confused- moshing enthusiastically, before being suckered by slow twangy number. It was a cheep violent crowd anyway, up where I was, with people pushing each other before the music started, and cheap bottled cider being the weapon of choice. It smelt like a bare knuckle boxing match and it boiled over when the frustration of being brought up by Intergalactic was punctured by another woeful jaunt into their midlife crisis album, and the two lads in front of me started swinging fists. I was elbowed in the throat, and caught a fist square on the cheek. They flirted with a brilliance they still have within them but fell short of, just flashing us a glimpse at the end with Sabotage.

Andrew Booth

20:03

Page 12

Analogue_section2(pg 16-27):pages 13-24

25/09/2007

20:04

Page 13

Being a slightly over zealous fan of Unkle, I made absolutely sure that whatever happened the weekend of Electric Picnic, come rain or shine, absence of hygiene or alcohol related accidents, I would not miss them play.

In my enthusiasm to be in a good position for them I arrived at the performance obsessively early, only to find that no more people were being granted entry to the already choked arena.

Only with ample effort, which including defiantly and clumsily throwing myself over the barrier and skulking under the tarpaulin did I manage to weasel my way up to the front of the crowd, only to be greeted with the hollers of some Hip Hop artist. Acknowledging my mistake through a series of curses, I hastily escaped eventually finding the correct arena for Unkle and managed to locate myself dead centre at the front barrier. In what was definitely the highlight of my weekend they played all the best songs from their new album and all their enduring classics such as ʻRabbit in your headlightsʼ and ʻIn a Stateʼ. Acknowledging their brilliance with our awed shouting and dancing, Richard File showed his appreciation through reciprocation and dived into the crowd, his runner hitting me across the face. His eventual return to the stage initiated the climatic ʻEye for an Eyeʼ, concluding their performance while James Lavelle proclaimed his undying love for the Irish, Richard File danced like a maniac, and I silently prayed for a bruise.

ʻOh my God what have I done. All I wanted was a little fun.

Got a brain like bubble gum. Blowing up my cranium. Do it again.ʼ We stumble, acoustic bus bomb survivors, strung out and heart broken. The breeze tosses streamers of fast food into the faces of the fallen, sweeps away the peptide bond, scatters us, colliding, smiling, throwaway freaky conversations and dusty explanations, Chemical Brothers. Back at the campervan, we jitter, flayed and burning for the night to swing the way it always promises but never quite delivers, and pour again into the dark and mount the whisky dreidel ferris wheel, to standing yell into the dying night. Hippies gather by their firesides, artists putt the cooling fields in steampunk batman cars and post apocalyptic costume, skangers climb the fences back the way they came; and somewhere, infinitely far away, eurotrash DJʼs with shmigs and titled daddies, retire to Bedouin tents and slipstream trailers, to tap A grade totty and hoof from endless crystal mounds. We sit around the campsite, our tents hemming the van, overhearing Towns Van Sant, choking Jameson from pikied clay cups and Picnic branded plastic mugs.

Next year, next year, we say, weʼll do it right, weʼll do it again.

Gareth Stack

photo: Eoin OʼBraoin

Shauna OʼBrien

27

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:33

Page 2

Final Fantasy

Brendan McGuirk Analogue: That was some reaction you got tonight at Electric Picnic, How do your Irish fans compare to those elsewhere?

Owen Pallett: I donʼt know, I find that thereʼs like weird pockets of acceptance of Final Fantasy, like Austria, Ireland, Portugal, thatʼs about it! San Francisco, other than that itʼs pretty spare.

A: You seemed a bit humbled on stage by the crowd going crazy FF: Itʼs nice you know. I didnʼt really know how to react, you know, Iʼm just so used to coming out on stage and playing shows to passive people. Itʼs kind of really nice to play for a bunch of people who are like just a little more, paying attention I guess.

A: For people who wouldnʼt be familiar with you, could you tell me a bit about how you started to perform under the name of Final Fantasy in Toronto all those years back?

FF: Sure, I was just kind of was playing with other bands and I had friends who were doing the thing, doing guitar looping and voice looping and stuff like that in Toronto. And I rented a pedal and then I played, I played my first show playing a benefit for Bobby Cremen, heʼs a musician on Red State Records. After the very first show where I only played 4 songs, 2 of which were covers, people were really enthusiastic and encouraged me to keep going with it, so I kept going. I spent that entire summer, which was the summer of 2004, just like practicing in my basement.

A: Well that kind of leads on this, playing live you use a lot of sampling and looping. When you first plugged a violin into a foot peddle, what was your initial reaction when you tried it out?

FF: Well it was really hard, Iʼd never tried singing and playing at the same time before because thatʼs not typically something that violinists are able to do, it takes like I donʼt know, itʼs really hard.

Youʼve got a violin pressing up against your throat and itʼs tricky, it took me forever to kind of get it. So honestly the first year was so unglamorous (laughs), it was just practicing and you know working away.

A: You seem very comfortable with it now. Itʼs almost like an aside.

Just thinking about it, you layer four or five different pieces together in one song and one is always leading on to the next. On stage do you sometimes go “hang on, where do I go next?”

FF: Yeah, no. I make a lot of mistakes. (laughs) Iʼm lucky if I get through the show without any mistakes.

A: Just have to hope that the fans are accepting…?

FF: Well I found that actually mistakes kind of make a show better too. You know, like you make a mistake and the crowd is just kind of like ha ha ha.

A: At times you have a lot of fun with journalists claiming that youʼve never even played the game Final Fantasy. When you first picked the name, did you ever really imagine it sticking for this length?

FF: No. You know when bands pick their names, itʼs not like theyʼre immediately on a stage in front of people and they have to stand by the name they picked. Iʼm really happy with the name personally. I think it was a good choice but no I never played with a journalist or anything like that, itʼs usually miscommunication or something like that. Iʼm definitely not a big fan of the game. I havenʼt really played them since I was a teenager. At the time, I was really seeing like, starting to notice how kind of like Final Fantasy the games themselves were like symptomatic and very indicative of sort of post war current super flat movements in Japanese culture. I kind of got interested in the connection between the two. So initially Final Fantasy was really kind of like meant to be inspired by that super flat idea that Satoshi Kon and stuff like that. I still think it is in a way, if I need ideas I usually just watch some anime. (Laughs) A: For your last album, He Poos Clouds, itʼs a concept album of sorts, how did you come to decide on intertwining the eight schools of magic from Dungeons and Dragons with very modern themes of relationships and love?

FF: Oh it was just like, I lived in this house and we were just dudes,

28

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:33

Page 3

we had very really exciting mornings where we would cook elaborate breakfasts, you know, it just kind of came from one those A: From breeze…

shooting

the

FF: Yeah, a lot of tea one morning and caffeine induced sort of like “Hey, thatʼs a great idea!”. So I think the first song I wrote ʻMany lives – 49 mpʼ and that was the first song I wrote for the record when I was like Iʼm going to write a song about the school of divination and I decided I was going to flesh out seven more songs for the other eight schools of magic.

A: Did you find it tough to get to the last two or three?

FF: Yeah it was actually really hard. I mean for the longest time I was just referring to the songs by the school of magic and really working to try to figure out ways of lyrically and grammatically connecting the music to the school. Some of it was successful. I donʼt know. A lot of people are just like ʻI donʼt get itʼ so I guess I was a bit of a failure but I did my best.

FF: It was in a way. It was mostly an influence on that song.

It wasnʼt so much dealing with my own mortality but dealing with the realities of being an atheist because Iʼd been a long term atheist and had really negative feelings about any sort of belief in a higher power and my godfather was also a similar such individual. It wasnʼt actually my godfather; it was my brotherʼs godfather. My godfather died when I was ten but my brotherʼs godfather was a very close part of the family. So just seeing him, because he was on a great deal of morphine, he had suffered a stroke and as a result of the stroke his intestines had exploded. So there was just like shit all over his abdomen internally and he was going to die so they just put him on a lot of morphine. You know, we just stood by his bed as he kind of lapsed in and out of consciousness. It was just kind of amazing to see him come out of unconsciousness and gasp for air. The look in his eyes was just one of ʻHow do I really deal with this idea?ʼ, that death was not a peaceful thing. At the time too, I was dealing with a friend who was a homo, he was having a romantic relationship with somebody who was HIV positive and he was romanticising about this notion of being with somebody. He describes the activities that they indulged in as feeling much more meaningful and real. At the time I kind of felt that that was kind of fucked.

But I couldnʼt really put my finger on it. Seeing my brotherʼs godfather suffering this right in front of me. It

illustrations by Sarah Jane Comerford

A: One of your songs deals with necromancy and your godfatherʼs death. In previous interviews youʼve mentioned that as an atheist that forced you to deal with your own mortality. Was that a major influence on the album?

29

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:33

Page 4

really made me realize that the whole concept of death and sickness and suicide especially, has permeated our culture and itʼs really kind of like disgusting. I found myself really unable to cope listening to the music and seeing the art of people who had committed suicide. It really colours the works of people like Jeff Buckley and Elliott Smith or Ian Curtis.

A: Well thereʼs still a question mark hanging over Jeff Buckleyʼs death.

FF: I know but pretty much everybody except his mother just like assumes that itʼs suicide. So scratch Jeff Buckley but I mean it kind of adds weight to peopleʼs art that it is kind of sick. Itʼs sick, itʼs fucked.

Well Iʼm not saying that Ian Curtisʼ suicide is going to drive other people to suicide but I do feel like it would create in turn bad art.

You know, people who are influenced by this idea, by this mentality.

You might notice that on my records that Iʼm dying a lot, in a lot of songs. A lot of songs have me dying and Iʼm kind of trying to address them with tongue in cheek. Kind of really looking at them from a perspective of someone who actually genuinely doesnʼt want to die and is really afraid of it.

I mean I think the best example, one of my favourite musicians and lyricists is Ozzy Osbourne when he was with Black Sabbath because despite the fact that you know a lot of people were really getting excited about his concept of Satanism and the things he was singing about. When you listen, he was genuinely scared, really afraid of whatʼs happening in what heʼs singing about. Thatʼs something I really identify with. I kind of try to draw from it for my own music.

A: I donʼt know how to really follow on from that! There is a lot of different themes that run through your songs like relationships is a really strong point like in ʻPlease Please Pleaseʼ, what were you thinking about the time when you wrote ʻPlease Please Pleaseʼ?

FF: Oh I donʼt know, ʻPlease Please Pleaseʼ is really just like an attempt to describe my own sort of like sexual fascinations which were definitely not based on certain visual stimuli.. But I donʼt know if I totally agree with the sentiment of that song anymore.

A: Youʼve moved on a little bit…

FF: Yeah I guess so but at the time, really it was inspired by this overcoat that I wore because I had this great big blue cadets overcoat and I just thought it was the sexiest thing. And in turn it was just sort of like I could feel myself attracted to people who wore a lot of clothes. My friend Steve Kato, actually there was this party where we all got really wasted and we all started taking photos of each other in various states of undress and as people would take off more and more of their clothes, Steve would put on more clothes.

He would just take the other peopleʼs discarded clothing and just put it on. I thought it was so sexy!

A: So hot.

FF: Yeah it was really hot.

A: What was it like winning the inaugural Polaris Prize for He Poos Clouds? There was kind of a lot of uneven criticism and praise for that album. Was there justification in winning?

FF: Well I didnʼt feel until I won it was unevenly praised. I felt as if the praise was generous. Honestly I felt as if it was really well received, that most people kind of liked it and I felt good about it. But I predicted whoever was going to win the award was going to be celebrated for a week and then derided for the rest of their life. I called it before and I never suspected that I was even in the running,

30

like I was going to win. Generally my feeling towards that award is that Iʼm very supportive because Canadians tend to be very self deprecating and nobody has an ego in Canada, a lot of musicians donʼt have any money so that sort of award is like a great institution for Canadian musicians but itʼs fucked because all of a sudden and I kind of realize that all these musicians who were accustomed to working together and were friends with each other and like hang out together and have parties because Canada is kind of a small scene. Every band in Montreal hangs out with each other and Toronto and Vancouver and whatever. And all of a sudden to have your work be put in competition with your friendʼs work, itʼs like what are you getting? For winning this competition, youʼre getting money from a corporation, from Rogers and youʼre getting this critical esteem in the eyes of journalists. Essentially itʼs kind of like taking away from the group of musicians who are really your backbone and instead giving you other things that are less important.

A: I donʼt think there was any hard feeling there. Actually we met Malajube earlier on today and they were wondering what you spent the prize money on…?

FF: Oh Iʼve talked about that a lot.

A: Ok well letʼs not get into that.

FF: Itʼs ok. Itʼs cool.

A: Well they seemed very good humoured about it.

FF: Well thatʼs the thing, you feel like they should be or would be.

Like why would I ever have bad like...I donʼt know, I barely even know Malajube. I mean I feel like the first instance that we were introduced to each other was in a situation of competition. Itʼs fucked. Itʼs like even harder now with the second Polaris Prize you know because Arcade Fire are nominated and obviously Iʼve a lot of personal investment in that album and my favourite albums tend not to be the Arcade Fire album rather like the Junior Boys album, The Besnard Lakesʼ album, the Miracle of Fortress album but like itʼs so fucked. Itʼs so fucked to have to think about these works which you love and kind of have to evaluate.

I have a real problem with Pitchfork.

A: Yeah?

FF: Well not a problem so much. I just kind of recognise that their process is actually inherently bad for musicians, to quantify works on ten point scale in any sort regard whether itʼs just like even a simple as a ʻbuy it, donʼt buy itʼ sort of thing. Especially with the ten

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:33

Page 5

point scale and colouring all musicians with business dealings with a number that been ascribed to them. It makes it really kind of weird.

A: You donʼt think it should be a rating system, it should just a commentary on the album as a review?

FF: Yeah absolutely, I feel that the rating system not only is derogatory towards the album itself but also towards the journalists who are writing about it because nobody gives a shit about Matt LeMay or Ryan Schreiber or Nitsuh is going to write. People are only interested in the number thatʼs awarded and I mean itʼs happened. I mean my friend Alena for example met with a publicist in New York city and the very first thing the publicist asked her “so what did Pitchfork give your EP?” and she told her and she sighed and was like “I guess we can work together”. And itʼs just that whole attitude.

upcoming album ʻThe Flying Club Cupʼ … how did that come about FF: It was actually kinda funny because Iʼm a fan of Beirut and I assume that heʼs a Final Fantasy fan. Essentially, Patrick my boyfriend and Kristianna his girlfriend were huge fans of the other bands so we were urged to work together by our significant others.

I had some open studio time coming up at the Arcade Fire studio, and I was interested in making a new recording, and recorded violin samples with a very sort of weird ballad sort of feel. At the time I was offering him to just come up and play the songs and record it all in one day, but by the time he got up there, he had mostly finished the new record, so it was mostly redesigning certain parts. But it was fine, it was excellent music to work with. Heʼs the best singer I know, and heʼs changed the way I think about singing.

A: The next LP you release is to be ʻHeartlandʼ. How did you come up with the name? Was there something about it being a reaction to how your last album was received?

A: One power holding all the cards.

FF: No, somebody said that, but that was just kind of a nice side-effect. No, the record is about patriotism. Essentially, the record takes place in a fictional country about a fealty towards it and a whole very sort of elaborate system of thought thatʼs related to how that whole world works. Whether or not thatʼs apparent in the music is irrelevant, cause I donʼt want it to be a concept record, I just want it to be set in a fictional world, in the same way that a fantasy can be set in a fantasy world.

Like when you watch Willow, you never question why there are Daikinis and Brownies, the Elowyn, you never question why thereʼs these people that are huge and then really small people, you just accept it … Thatʼs kinda the idea for the record. So, the record is about patriotism; thereʼs the protagonist, and he calls his faith into question as his God starts to

FF: Yeah itʼs really difficult and I mean Iʼm not going to deny that the music buying public does need representation and Pitchfork does sort of provide that on one end but I do feel that the ten point system is.. Itʼs just laughable. I donʼt fucking know how anything about the Pitchfork writers, I donʼt know how they write. I donʼt read them, well I do read them but you know what I mean, itʼs like after youʼre done reading them what youʼre left with is nothing. So back to Polaris, I just feel like itʼs a very similar kind of effect.

A: One thing that kind of baffles me, is there something in the water in Canada? Thereʼs so much great music coming out of it. You might of mentioned before in other interviews that no equivalent of pitchfork or NME in Canada to tie you down, is that freedom that gives the music room to breathe and progress? Or is it really just a great group of people who are trying to do something new?

FF: It depends from city to city, every city has itʼs own scene. All the cities in Canada are so spread out, itʼs not like the UK. Thereʼs no particular one Canadian sound, youʼll hear people in Montreal talk about how a band sounds very Toronto and similarly people will hear a band that sounds like something that can only come from Montreal. Thereʼs a lot of subtleties within it that you might not pick up on if youʼre not from there. But in general I just think that Canada has a really high quality of living, people are able to live for fairly cheap, as a result people have a lot of time to not give a shit if they succeed or not; as a result, they kinda go out on a limb and try to create something great A: You were a member of Picastro back in 2000 but left because you were busy with Final Fantasy. What was it like to work with them again on their latest album?

FF: It was cool. I didnʼt work so much on Picastroʼs latest record; I just kinda took them to a church and put down some organ. I played some stuff on it, but it wasnʼt as intense a process. A lot of the songs in that record were ones that I would have played when I was in the band

do horrible things.

A: Sounds interesting, have you any idea when that might come out?

FF: Next year, itʼs a long way away from completion. I talked about it, and then people assumed that meant that it was coming out soon.

Big mistake.

A: Youʼre a bit of a perfectionist though…

FF: Yeah, sure [laughs]. Itʼs not that though, itʼs just that I havenʼt any time. Iʼve been touring for two years, Iʼve been working on other peopleʼs records… I just havenʼt had any time.

A: In the future, how do you envisage Final Fantasy developing?

Do you think youʼll be staying solo, or maybe grow into a band or an orchestra?

FF: No, I think Iʼll keep it as a solo project. Iʼve had a lot of musical aspirations over the last few years that Iʼve wanted to fulfil. I had other bands that I wanted to pursue, guitar songs that I wanted to record, an opera I wanted to compose … Iʼm gonna try and pursue Final Fantasy, make a few more records, but Iʼm not gonna have a retrospective in twenty years, itʼs probably gonna be done. I think there are much more important things that I can be doing in music, much more socially important...

A: Back to collaborations … You collaborated with Zach Condon of Beirut, adding vocals and strings to the song ʻCliquotʼ from his

31

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:33

Page 7

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:33

Page 8

Architectrure in Helsinki

Architecture in Helsinki are an octet hailing from Melbourne on a mission to pepper your ear drums with the finest indie pop that will make you do the whirlwind, whatever that may be. Three albums in with the fabulously playful Places Like This just released this spring. They have succeeded in fashioning a sound full of eccentricity, combining the stranger spectrums of indie rock with the simplicity of pop. This is a band not only intelligent but also frolicsome who are well worth splashing out a few bob of your hard earned cash on.

34

So what are we to make of these antipodean pop stars? I had the wonderful opportunity to speak to the uber friendly and charming Kellie Sutherland. Just like the band she eschews normality. “Iʼm a modern day musical gypsy” Kellie happily pronounces when I mention what must be the travails of being in a band these days with constant touring and push and pull between concert venue and recording studio.

“I got rid of all my stuff. I pretty much have whatʼs in my suitcase and a few boxes of records and CDʼs and books in my familyʼs storage space” she says with a friendly smile. “Itʼs quite liberating. You should try it!” Em, I donʼt know. Does one not long for the comforts of home, the feeling of “Damn! My favorite sweaterʼs in Melbourne and I am in San Fran!” but Kellie is resolute.

This is a woman changed by touring and the relative ease of

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:33

Page 9

modern day traveling. “It has really changed my mind about looking at things and how much impact I was making on the earth. I said to myself ʻOh my god, I canʼt believe I have accumulated this stuff to begin with!” So there you go folks, touring is good for the soul and the environment.

Iʼm not sure it is the life for me.

Constant touring and experiencing new environments and cities has over the course of time slowly changed the dynamic and style of the band. Change is definitely the correct term to use to describe the last two years, especially the time between the most recent album and the one prior to it, the strangely named In Case We Die. A change of scenery for some band members-the vibrancy and cacophony of Brooklyn for lead singer and songwriter Cameron and Kellie, well, all over the place, have brought about a shift in direction for the band. This has enamoured the band with new fans but also alienated one or two who feel the new, more pronounced electro sound anathema to them.

So has this new environment aided the new shift in style? “Definitely the intensity of the environment in Brooklyn had a huge impact on how Cameron wrote the songs and being away from home changes the way you think about recording” Kellie tells me.

With band members strewn across the world it seemingly brings up the question of how does one record an album together? If Cameronʼs in America, the rest of the band in Australia and Kellie somewhere between San Fran and Mumbai can a band actually work separately? It seems you can and Architecture in Helsinki are testament to that. So how does one do I? “We wrote songs without actually playing them together”. Odd….”It sounds like a really strange concept but it kind of worked for us and the record. If Cameron hadnʼt moved then we were at risk of making the same album and that was the last thing we wanted” So how was this done I ponder. “We wrote the songs and demos and sent them over instant messenger and we would have meetings once a week online and talk about ideas and swop ideas and piece together songs” Ah the wonders of modern technology!

The change continued into the recording and producing fields of the album Places Like This. “Cameron had this world drum machine which could make loops and I think just one or two synths. The initial demos that turned into songs really infiltrated how the band sounded. We didnʼt have horns as melody makers as in the last two albums” So it seems we have found the origin of this progression to a more electro sound. “We have been touring for quite a few years” Kellie continues. “We did the first two albums ourselves. (Fellow band member) Gus did a lot of engineering. On this last record we had our own engineer and the pace that we recorded was a hundred times quicker. Our ideas and how

we expressed them were really turned quickly into reality. It was pretty amazing!”

So a new lease of life and experience into an already lively and intelligent band augur well for the future of Architecture in Helsinki. So I bid adieu to Kellie as she continues on her worldwide tour and look forward to the next musical installment from Melbourneʼs finest.

Conor OʼNeill

35

25/09/2007

20:33

Page 10

dee r

hoo

f

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

A:: Are you looking forward to playing in Ireland again?

G: Very much so. It was, I mean, we were, I suppose…we maybe had some extra lucky way of experiencing Ireland for the first time.

Where as, most bands would you know, maybe make a stop there on a bigger UK tour and it would be your first time and expect nobody to know you. Our first show was basically in front of 15,000 people, opening at the Beck and Radiohead show. There should have been no reason for anyone to know our songs or any idea who were but still we started playing. First of all it was a place we never had played before and second of all it was as support for a bigger band. We expected nothing but it was the most enthusiastic response. It was really memorable and everyone was in a really good mood and it is a testament to the nature of Radiohead fans but it showed us what it is really like to play in Ireland. Later when I went out into the audience to watch the rest of the concert, I just found everybody was so easy to talk to. I could instantly make friends with people around me. It was really great and we enjoyed that experience very much so we are looking forward to going back.

A: You played the TBMC very shortly afterwards. It must have been very weird to have Thom Yorke as honored supporter in the crowd?

G: How did you know he was there?

A: I read something you said that he was dancing crazily..

G: I actually couldnʼt see him. That was something the people in the audience told me later, like “Whoʼs that weirdo?!” Of course it turned out to be him and I didnʼt know he was there until I came off stage and I was basically walking to the merchandise table from the stage and this guy was like “Oh great show”. One thing I specifically remember was when he was saying to me that it was a great show he was patting me on the back and then immediately retracted it back as I was soaked. It was really funny. We had bumped into him and Johnny (Greenwood). Basically we were walking around the Music Centre looking for dinner and we went to a Japanese restaurant and we were told the wait was going to be 40 minutes and we said nah and we went to see what else there is and basically we went onto the sidewalk and there the next thing we saw was vegetarian

36

food and said cool as I am a vegetarian and that was perfect for us and we walk in and guess whoʼs sitting down having dinner there but Jonny and Thom. Immediately they invited us over. We also found out Johnny was roped into doing some Irish music concert that same night but Thom was deciding what he would do on his night off from touring. When I have a day off from tour I basically sleep, not see anybody and I am going to give my ears a rest and be fatigued from the world and meeting people and stuff. What does Thom Yorke want to do on his night off after playing with Deerhoof day in and out? Come to our concert. We were surprised and we basically didnʼt think it would happen but there he was. It was really fun and memorable. We liked the venue but we did get clamped when we were inside the show!

A: One thing I got from other interviews you have done is the change of your outlook and approach of making music after playing with Radiohead. How did that come about?

G: I think we had changed it before we had met Radiohead as basically it was a thrill to be with Radiohead as they are a very popular band. Clearly such an influence and being such a force to be reckoned with in music as they are to so many different kind of musicians and they float above any sub-genre and they have some sort of affect. We were already crazy fans before this. Whenever we were working on some new stuff we would A-B our music with their music and see if it could measure up to something they have done.

A: What about changes beforehand like Chris leaving and being a three piece set up. Did it force you to learn over again as a three piece and try new things?

G: We were a three piece before he joined so it was extremely natural to go back to a three piece. Itʼs funny to say that we had to go back and learn again. I could say that we already knew how to play as a three piece but that would be a lie as with and without Chris we still donʼt know how to play. Weʼre still trying to figure it out as we

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:33

Page 11

play. Weʼre still thinking like “What in the world are we doing on stage and what is this ridiculous material we are trying to present to people?” None of it makes sense to us at all and thatʼs kind of funny to us. I think that the audience can feel like we are still trying to figure it out and that it is a work in progress.

A: Your latest album Friend Opportunity is like a fresh Deerhoof sound but you go back to sampling like on Apple O. How did you approach this album?

G: Well partly to do with the tour and other things happening at the time we basically didnʼt have enough time to record it. Everybody had been working on ideas for songs on their own. But once we got together to make an album, most of the time we had set aside for this kept getting re-allotted other things that we could in no way say no to. We were working really fast so if we had an approach at all it was we had no rules as the deadline was enough of a discipline and it was strict enough that that felt like the challenge we had. Also anytime anyone had a thought or an idea we would just try it and so thatʼs how it ended up. So a lot of times you canʼt necessarily know whoʼs doing what other than when we are singing. Sometimes Satomi plays guitar and other times the drums. Basically we had no limitations on the band as we already had the limitations with the deadline.

A: Although you didnʼt have the time you really are perfectionists.

For example on the Runner Four album you found it difficult to find a definite ending...

G: Well we recorded it on the computer but we always did it and always mixed ourselves. Thatʼs the upside and the downside. On the one side you have enough time to get it perfect but then albums can take up ending years. I remember working on Reveille for two years straight trying to figure out how to get it straight and other albums have taken longer. So itʼs a kind of weird pattern we go to.

We start all innocent and fun and we get the sort of thrill of getting ideas from listening to stuff on stereo speakers after doodling on a guitar or hearing things in your mind and then you get to the stage where you say “Itʼs still not right” and then you put on your Radiohead CD and you go “Woah!”. It turns into a kind of obsession and every time you hear it all you hear is nothing but flaws. So we try and get tired of it.

A: Youʼre always pushing boundaries and trying new things. Do you get frustrated with critics trying to get your sound and label it experimental?

G: Well I actually like it when they do label it. I get a kick out of it. I think that some compliment and privilege and honour when they do.

I find it a weird sense of accomplishment. Like itʼs not our goal but I do feel happy when it happens. Sometimes a music journalist can be like a kind of know it all and their job requires them to listen to a lot of things on short notice and try to get the gist of something right of way. They can appear to be jaded in some sort of way and not be overwhelmed with the ecstacy with every single CD that comes their way. So this sort of personʼs job is to try and see where everything fits in and find the perfect description and comparison for everything so they can find that perfect and simplified idea to the consumer confronted by another hundred CDʼs. So when that person is at a loss for words I find that an accomplishment.

A: On one of your songs “Plus 81” itʼs a real example where the lyrics perfectly compliment the sound and mood of the song. Could you tell us a little about the dynamics between you John and Satomi in the band? Are you almost at a point where youʼre guessing what the other person is thinking?

G: I donʼt know if itʼs guessing. It feels like a kind of magic that I canʼt describe. That song is one of many I wrote. I didnʼt have any sense what the song was about. I just had this melody and drum

beats. I am so concerned with pitches and rhythms that I just donʼt have the slightest idea what the song is about. Satomi will hear the song for the first time and whenever she decides to focus her mind on that task, itʼs like it suddenly comes clear to her what the song is about. As soon as she comes up to me and tells me or shows me what sheʼs doing I instantly realize that that is what it is all about. I feel like it is one of the greatest gifts one person can give to another person is to collaborate with someone and make something bigger out of what the first person did and to find the real meaning of what the first person said. Like we are from two different countries. Communication is complicated like it is with two people anyway but itʼs amazing. Sometimes I feel like I have deeper communication with a person in this process of making music. She wants to discover what I didnʼt even know in making the music. It still surprises me..

A: Is it true you get ideas for songs when you dream and in your sleep?

G: Yeah. Itʼs not like a rule. If I get an idea another way I will not say no.

A: Do you go “I need to get another idea, Iʼm going to bed!”?

G: -Ha. I really need to perfect the power nap. What I need to do this polyphasic sleeping where people sleep about 5 times a day for 20 minutes each time and Da Vinci was one of the original proponents of this. Obviously that guy had no problem with productivity and a lack of ideas. It seems like that was the source of his ideas. I have like these sketches and then I have to try and find a way to work them out and make it turn into something. I donʼt know how to describe it. Sometimes I take accidental naps like in the back seat of a car but I never understood how to control whether it will be a good nap or a bad nap. If you sleep the wrong number of minutes you will wake up more horrible and tired than when you were before you slept. But then a bit of the time you get lucky and feel so much better and feel like I have had this incredible minute where I feel like suddenly the entire universe after this sleep feels fresh and new.

But then it floats away.

A: Being woken up from a deep sleep suddenly is probably akin to being on drugs?

G: I have never taken any drugs. Maybe chocolate. Ha. Maybe this is my way of trying to get the lightning to strike in the right place. For as long as I can remember sleep cultivates how to put these things around me together. Ideas seem hard to notice. They sometimes hide or are wiped out by consciousness being busy doing something else. Under the surface thinking about this is trying to appreciate the ideas.

A: You seem to have no problems performing. You have a sparse drum kit but use it very well. How did you come to making your drum sound?

G: If you saw me playing a really big drum set you would see I have no idea how to use it. I get completely confused it thereʼs too many thing to hit and my arms get crossed and I end up poking myself in the eye and nothing right comes out of it. I have always been into self restrictions….

A: But what comes out of it is real edgy ideas and styles. So from almost restricting yourself you have in fact pushed yourself?

G: Exactly you have nothing to fall back on. Something that has fascinated musicians for several centuries is the idea of the solo. You know those Bach cello solos that are just always returned to by musicians of all types for every field of music. So for one cello you have one sound. You cant play two melodies at one time but we are going to try and evoke something bigger from these very limited means and although one instrument like that cannot play more than one

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:34

Page 12

chord it can give the mental impression that it can do more when played in unison and the listeners brain tries to fill in the gaps. The listener has to work with the performer in trying to finish what is a very skeletal suggestion. The suggestion of counterpoint or there being more than one instrument. Even with one instrument Bach creates the idea of there being more than one. Both performer and listener work together to finish the work. Even a cheap keyboard can have hundreds of sounds and choices. You can be overwhelmed. I can be overwhelmed by all the choices. I like pairing it down as it forces me to come up with something more. I like working on a small drum kit so we donʼt need any roadies and itʼs easier to transport. When youʼre playing with a large kit with various sounds, if as youʼre playing you start feeling the sound is getting bland you can go to something else there. However if you feel like youʼre playing with nothing then what are you going to do when the music gets stale? You have to think of an idea to try and bring the music back to life. So I feel constantly challenged by the lack of choices with my small drum kit.

A: Aside from that you have tried some other things such as contributing to music for films such as Dedication?

G: It had its premiere just a while ago in New York.

A: How did it come about that you started working on a film?

G: Justin Theroux who is known more as an actor and this is his first as a director, heʼs more well known for being in some David Lynch movies and other stuff. He had made this movie and sent us the rough edit of it and we couldnʼt believe it. It was full of all these Deerhoof songs from other albums. It was like as previously mentioned when Satomi would write music from the music I make and she would be able to see the purpose or meaning of the song that was hidden from me to that point. It was weird to suddenly see your music set to images and a piece of a story with plot and characters.

Suddenly the piece and music felt so much more.

A: Did it like give it a lot more feeling?

G: We just related to him in a special way and we had this similar kind of way that weʼre drawn to the obsessive and naughty and ar-

38

rhythmic… It is hard to explain. It is not that we are all experimenting. Itʼs about this specific feeling of someone struggling with themselves and has obsessions and compulsions and a need to always repeat the most difficult aspect, moment of a situation. To express thoughts that shouldnʼt be expressed in certain situations. There was a certain dark humor.

A: You were working with composers?

G: After he sent us the rough he asked us were there other parts of the movies where music would go well and we could not believe that this person was trusting us so much to answer a question like that and we immediately started recording stuff for it and sending him tunes. A lot of it ended up getting used and eventually his producers ended up calling a composer in L.A called Ed Schumer.

Theres a funny story to this in fact….

We were on tour with Radiohead before coming to Ireland and before Radiohead asked us on tour. Ed was a big Radiohead fan and he goes to see Radiohead in concert and was intrigued by this band opening for them and asking who it was and wishing he cold work with a band like that and then he gets back to his office the next morning and there is this dedication DVD sitting on his desk saying that this is a movie with a lot of music by a band called Deerhoof and we are thinking of adding some more stuff and was wondering if you would like to work with this band and it was such a complete coincidence. Turns out he loved the movie and had loads of ideas about using music.

Working on the final mix and having everything all in place it was hard to work out who did what as it just seemed all so seamless our work together. I think Justinʼs whole approach to using music and sound in this movie is so original. If nothing else the process he used was as it allowed us to be involved. We never climbed on some career ladder to get into the sound affects business. We were just some random band that he got in touch with. He trusted us in a way that it was just ludicrous on paper.

A: Its not the first time Deerhoof music has inspired someone to go ahead and create something in a different art form. You album Milk Man was adapted for an elementary school ballet!?

G: Yeah. They just repeated that performance a few weeks ago and

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:34

Page 13

we have become great friends with the people involved in that. Itʼs totally incredible. There are journalists who feel our music is experimental and only meant for other musicians and certain kinds of knowledgeable crowd and the initiated and elitist. Our dream is always the opposite and I cannot believe our good fortune at how our dreams have come true where it has reached the confines of indie rock.

like “what do Deerhoof know about sound mix in a movie?” but there we were mixing it. Even to be trusted to participate in the publicity we thought why in the world would the Weinstein company, a multi million dollar corporation, a major player in the popular culture industry turn to some little scrappy unknown DIY punk rock band or whatever on ideas on how to…

A: Theyʼre trying to keep the sound and things fresh?

A: Friend Opportunity is a shorter work. It has the Deerhoof essence but appeals to more. Was that intentional?

G: It was kinda intentional. It has been intentional every time. We donʼt have a type of audience we try to appeal to like one genre of musical listeners. We never really fit well into any musical scenes.

We have during our time together seen many musical genres come and go like in San Francisco. We never really felt like we were accepted into any of them but we have been able to have friends in many different local scenes. So it was like you didnʼt have to be part of any scene to like our band. So if you were part of a certain scene you were most likely to love it or hate us. You are most likely to never have heard of us. I like the feeling that you cannot predict the music a Deerhoof fan listens to or what they look like, age they are or what income level theyʼre from. You canʼt really tell anyone about them. When your fans start to include six year old kids on an island in Maine that want to sing and dance to it you really feel like it is our ultimate goal.

A: Whatʼs next for Deerhoof?

G: Electric Picnic!

A: You have a brief break from touring now. Have you been working on new material? Or is that something else further down the line?

G: Each of the three of us are working on ideas on our own and we are always doing that and seeking out new ideas for future possible songs. However we havenʼt gotten together to work on new stuff.

Mostly we have been working on is Dedication. The craziness on working on that we have managed to somehow be trusted in being involved in the publicity and it is completely bizarre.

A: It keeps things interesting?

G: Interesting is one word. It has actually been like a crash course to the corporate world. Working with the movie and the studios releasing and promoting it, all their marketing teams and producing teams and the way they work is so utterly different to what weʼre used to. On this tiny indie rock band it is really different. We have had to really hound people to get different ideas across on how you believe in this movie and how it is presented to people a certain way through emails. You are only talking to some liaison understudy.

These people are just nine to fivers. For us this is one of the biggest things we have ever been involved and been a part of but for them it may just seem as something insignificant as itʼs just some minor indie movie to them. Itʼs probably nothing compared to the other movies on their release schedule. It is hard to convince them to, well I am afraid that it may be sold to the wrong audience. Although it is a romantic comedy in name and context, the actual reality of the movie, is that it is for people who wouldnʼt normally go to romantic comedies.

A: Youʼre doing a lot of work to put it across the right way but the fact that you are involved in it will immediately attract a certain crowd that wouldnʼt be into romantic comedies the film is going to speak for itself. I canʼt wait to see it myself.

G: Iʼm totally amazed by it and being involved and trusted so much in the process of the movie, even up to the sound. I mean we were

G: Yeah. I mean it is probably more to do with us badgering and pestering them like a fly constantly asking them what they are doing and making suggestions to them. I mean it is not like they came to us with open arms. It has been a really long process to manage to insert our selves into the process.

A: On that note, I read somewhere that Deerhoof is all about love.

Is that what keeps you going?

G: Yeah, I mean, itʼs you know I probably said that as a joke to one particular journalist who wanted to pin us as some snobbish, intellectual, experimental band. So I mean, today as I am talking to you on the phone, it is in the middle of me trying to deal with what is going on with this Dedication movie. I mean if I had to summarize in one syllable what idea I have for this movie that itʼs marketers donʼt know exactly know. I had a love for the movie and for Justin who did it so while heʼs busy shooting another movie with Ben Stiller in Hawaii he is too busy to consider what is going on. So I am trying to protect, care and nurture it so that it comes across and doesnʼt get spoiled and misrepresented so therefore you know thrown in the waste basket. I really believe in the ideas that Justin is trying to come across with in the movie and the aesthetic and characters. I recognize these characters and some of them in myself, their mindset, concerns and difficulties. I completely identify with them. Well the source of everything we do is love and if not why would we be doing it. Thereʼs not other reasons for doing it. Thatʼs the thing about music, it is that other than those short lived and rare cases where people are making a real big income from music…It is so uncommon and laughable to be even considering…the other 99% of us is that whatʼs cool about it is that there is no other reason to do it but that. It doesnʼt build houses for people or put clothes on peoplesʼ backs or cure diseases or ends wars or anything like that. It is just able to express something else which has no justification other than…I donʼt know how to describe it. other tour for the exact same day. We really wanted to go to Ireland..

Brendan McGuirk

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:34

Page 14

young people having fun!

A: How do you find the challenge of taking such an orchestrated album as ʻIdeal Conditionʼ from the studio to the stage?

Paul: These things are brilliant, thatʼs a proper bandwidth recorder. I know you can do it on MP3 mode. I want one of those. Sometimes I walk around with a set of drumsticks and go to metal railings and hammer them. I found a fantastic metal staircase, a fire escape and I was just drumming it with my hands and I recorded it with a video camera, just put it on one of the steps and recorded the sound and got some fantastic drumloops for a film score. So something like that in my pocket would be brilliant!

Paul: It was quite tricky, and I first I didnʼt know how we were going to do it, because youʼre trying to condense a hundred musicians down to this. As we got to thinking, “Well could you do it with 20 people or a small orchestra?” But then when you go to see an orchestra itʼs not amplified, and thatʼs pretty dull…if youʼve got a drummer and everything you want it loud! And then it boiled down to representing each section of the orchestra with

(He shakes his keys) And I had these on and I forgot, and they were kinda jingle-jangling as I was doing it and became sort of like tambourines!

Analogue: What was it like playing here at the Electric Picnic solo for the first time?

P: Brilliant. It was fantastic. On the one hand I knew we were opening the festival-which is sort of a double-edged sword. It could mean that no one was there or it could mean that everyone was so gagging for it that they loved it.

I went out five minutes before we went on and there were two people waiting there, one of them was my

sister-in-law, and I was like “Fine, itʼs gonna be one of those gigs!” And by the time we came on there was about 50 or 60 people, and by the time the first track was finished there was a hundred and fifty. And as we were playing I just watched people pile in and by the third track there was over one thousand people! The crowd just built and built and the cheers and shouts got louder and louder, ʻtil by the end, during any quiet passages I could barely hear the music!

one person, one violin one cello, one woodwind person, synth brass. Then we can amplify everything and it becomes more like a rock and roll gig. It becomes a lot more fiesty. So it went down from being a full orchestra to a small ensemble where one violin covers for the whole violin section, so it sounds more gypsy or something if you know what I mean! And instead of some brass, we got an accordion and that just sounds mad and magic! It works really well…itʼs more ballsy than the album which is all orchestrated and A: So you got the reaction that you hoped for? Is there a difference considered. between performing as part of Orbital and now performing as Paul Hartnoll?

A: Did you get to handpick some of the people you performed with?

Paul: Well that reaction was fantastic, I couldnʼt have hoped for better.

Generally, an Irish reaction is pretty strong anyway. Different countries respond differently but Irish audiences are pretty loud and that was a proper full-on banging Irish reaction! I couldnʼt be happier!

A: Do you see a change in the audience from your rave days?

Paul: Not really, they seem the same to me. Just a whole bunch of

40

P: Oh yeah, I think some of these people that weʼre playing with are some of the best classically trained musicians in London. Andy Findan, the woodwind player, he plays with Michael Nyman (film score composer for The Piano). Kieranʼs just finished working with the Prodigy…theyʼre really a high standard of people. Chris Elliot, who helped me arrange the album, heʼs always working, and he wanted to come on the road with us, he thought it might be fun, because heʼs been doing all the Mark Ronson stuff, yʼknow with

Analogue_section3(pg 28-41):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:34

Page 15

Amy Winehouse, and this was the chance for him to get away and have some fun, let his hair down.

that and lost the rock tracks, everything fell into place. And then it was fine.

A: Up there onstage do you feel like a conductor of sorts?

A: I see what you mean about the novel format, because closer to the end youʼre taking a step back from the journey that has happened and given some kind of resolution.

P: I do a lot of bass, and Iʼm looking at Kieran, so weʼre covering the rock and roll aspect and the Chris Elliot, heʼs sort of conducting the orchestral side, the classically trained types look to him because heʼs the arranger. But everyone is pretty much on the ball.

A: It seems these days that a lot of musicians are looking to fusing and merging genres as a means of progression in music. Is that where you see the future of music heading? Classical with electronica, rock with dance?

P: Itʼs always been there hasnʼt it? Iʼm not being funny, the older I get, itʼs like stepping away from a painting and then you can see the whole thing. Things go in cycles all the time. Theme and styles come round and things always get blended in a slightly different way.But now it seems more obvious.

A: Do you think so? In what way?

P: Well take for example Electro-clash, where people are fusing dance elements into what is essentially a rock show.

A: Well what about Factory Records or New Order?

P: Itʼs the same thing! New Order were the biggest electro-clash band ever! And that was in the early 80s. So itʼs not really new in that sense, but it is because itʼs always done from a different angle because every young generation does it from their angle and they have the arrogance of youth that says “Fuck off! Youʼre shit, weʼre doing it like this!” And thatʼs brilliant, because without that attitude, none of us would have got anywhere. I made my dance music out of a desire to show people “Look youʼre making crap dance music, this is how it should be!” Its not how I feel now, Iʼm older and Iʼm different. I can look at it sagely and go “Ha ha, youʼre doing that now. Itʼs your turn to do that,” and itʼs good fun watching that going on. Thatʼs what young people do, they are impassioned and look to break the mould and they think “Iʼm gonna put this with that and no-one else has done that before,” and even though they might have done, it doesnʼt matter because theyʼre doing it in their own way.

A: You must feel fairly young at heart, as youʼre still breaking the mould yourself. At times on this album it sounds like an epic soundtrack to a fantasy film. Is that something you hoped for or was it just a direct result of the creative process?

P; Itʼs what I love. I listen to Danny Elfman (composer for many Tim Burton soundtracks) and Enio Morricone, theyʼre the biggest fantasy musicians that I know, and I love what they do and that gets into my music. I love film music and I love dance music so the two things come together.

A: Was it trial and error coming to decide on the overall final sound of the album, or did you always have an idea of how it was going to be?

P: I didnʼt really think about it, I just started writing tracks and I started trying to think of each track like a chapter in a book or a phrase in a story. And I started trying to piece it together like a novel. But I didnʼt have a narrative, thinking- “whatʼs the start of the book and what is the big action sequence before the end?

Whatʼs the bit in the middle where the hero has to make a choice?” I started trying to slot track into that, but I did write more than I needed and I had about two or three more “rock” tracks, and that was throwing it off balance. And as soon as I realised

P: Yeah, the album is almost like a palindrome. It starts and ends with the biggest orchestral tracks that are arranged almost the same, they start quiet and just build. The right in the middle you have that small moment with The Unsteady Waltz.

A: Youʼve already mentioned some of your influences, but what were your main influences for this album?

P: The biggest influences on this album were my mum dying, Nine Inch Nails, reading books about how to write a novel! I went through a phase of wanting to write a novel one day, but Iʼm too busy with music to get round to it! But because I was a frustrated novelist, I incorporated that into this album. But yeah, my Mum dying and Nine Inch Nails. Funnily enough, the Nine Inch Nails stuff all fell off the edge though, that was the rock stuff that had to go. And the musicians I worked with, I know it sounds corny, but working with Chris Elliot the arranger was fantastic - what a learning curve! I learnt so much from his about putting stuff together for an orchestra, and I had good fun doing it.

A: Was there a lot of score work beforehand, or did you sometimes think “Letʼs just dip in and try this.”

P: No there was months of preparation. I was very meticulous about how I wrote the music, and he (Chris Eliot) was very meticulous about making sure he got what I wanted, but then he would say -”Do you know that oboes canʼt play that? They can play those notes, but not in that style. So how about we try it like this,” and I learnt a lot like that. I thought I was being clever by only programming stuff that would work in the range of certain instruments, but I didnʼt consider the practicalities.

A: On ʻAn Ideal Conditionʼ you collaborate with Robert Smith and Leanne Hall amongst others. How did that come about? Did you approach them?

P: I approached Robert Smith because I met him once at a festival and he was really nice, and I also thought “Oh, maybe Iʼll ask him to sing on something one day.” And that was yeas ago. And this was the first time when I thought- “Actually, Robert Smith would be a good singer for that track.” So I approached him. Leanne Hall is just someone I know from Brighton. Weʼve worked on lots of stuff together now, stuff that is unreleased, and hopefully weʼll work together in the future because I like her, sheʼs really good.

A: There are certain themes that run throughout the album, both melancholic and hopeful - you said one of the influences on the album was your mother dying. Is there a certain message you hoped to get across through your music?

What I like music to do is inspire and to change you and your state. If it doesnʼt change you then it was pointless. This is what I know when I listen to music, if everyoneʼs ranting and raving about a band and I put the record on and it doesnʼt change me then I know that this is pointless to me. To me, not to anyone else.

I know that music is subjective, it affects everybody differently. I just hope to inspire and have people think about their life in a different way. The melancholy part is humbling, Iʼm not trying to depress people. I revel in melancholy. I love seaside towns in the winter in the rain! You get some of your best thought at those times - hope comes from melancholy. I think the beginning of Dust Motes is quite depressing, but it becomes so hopeful and triumphant at the end.

Brendan McGuirk

41

fnito:Layout 1

25/09/2007

19:13

Page 1

On air 1st - 5th of October.

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

25/09/2007

16:32

Page 2

Malajube

Words: Conor O’Neill

42

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

25/09/2007

16:32

Page 3

These days, with the sheer dominance of the language, it is almost a rite of passage for foreign bands to sing in English – and their ticket to greater things.

So what does one make of a band who shun our native tongue and sing purely in their own? Well recently it has worked for some people, most notably Bonde do Role (but then again a lot of Brazilian people know what theyʼre singing about anyways) but not many more. So what is one to make of Malajube: a band from Montreal that sing entirely of French? “Montreal!” I hear you coo.

Well thatʼs all one needs to say these days. A Canadian passport will almost guarantee you instant recognition and attention here with such fellow bands as Arcade Fire and Broken Social Scene. However Malajube are a little different and itʼs not because they sing in French. No, this is a band that sit above the throng of Canadian bands and are intent on showing you another aspect to the Canada that we know.

Malajube were initially formed many years ago in high school in Montreal. “We wanted to start a punk rock band,” Francis the drummer tells me. But fate had another route for them to take. Immersing themselves in the vibrancy of the Montreal music scene, they honed a sound which has been described strangely by some people in the media as a cross between The Arcade Fire and The Super Furry Animals. Delightfully odd I must say. In 2004 they released their debut album Le Compte Complet – which fellow band member Mathieu tells me means “a baseball term. Itʼs hard to explain in English. It sounds good in French” to which I wonʼt argue as Conor donʼt know any French – but it was with the wonderful Trompe LʼOeil last year which got most peoples attention. Trompe LʼOeil was nominated for a Polaris, the Canadian equivalent of the Mercury awards and that year Malajube were the “who the hell are they?” nomination. Eventually it was won by Final Fantasy but it was one major step up into the limelight for the budding band. It was a major surprise even to the band. “We were really surprised to be nominated with bands like Wolf Parade and Broken Social Scene” Francis beams and for us all the better we are for it.

So I bring them to the age-old question many of us are asking-what the hell do they put into the water in Canada and especially Montreal that has produced so many great bands over the years? “Montreal is so cheap and thereʼs so many venues and parties. Lots of bands are coming to Montreal but are not originally from there. You can rent a space for cheap and so on,” Francis illuminates. So there you go, all we need are some cheap dingy venues and we have a killer musical scene. There has to be something more. Is it the mixture of French and English culture in an American setting perhaps? With the answer comes a fascinating insight into Montreal when Francis states “Thereʼs so many different cultures in Montreal. Also itʼs half Anglo and half French.

They donʼt mix so much together and the Anglos have their own venues and so on”. So a slight cross breeding may occur which will eventually over time mesh and create something special like Malajube.

We go back to the beginning and I enquire about the reasoning behind singing solely in French, which for many a band could be a handicap to future success.

“People are making it an issue that we sing in French” Francis tells me. “For us itʼs natural. People arenʼt making much of an argument about it really. All the places we go donʼt really mind. At first we started in English and Julien our singer wasnʼt really comfortable with it and we thought ʻwell if everyone sings in English, why not French?ʼ” So itʼs because people are now more open to the idea of listening to music in another language like French? “I think so,” Francis continues. “We never thought they (the people) would take it and think weʼre stuck up”. “I think the people now who need to be convinced are the people in radio and so on,” Mathieu adds. “People who are really into music get our music. We are not too much open or fussed about major radio play here and in the States. Some people are not ready for that.” So there will be no chance of this band selling out any time soon.

So what does the future hold for Malajube? A long tour through France and Britain, with a brief stop off in Japan, before heading back into the studio to continue the good fortune of quality from Canada. This is a band to look out for in the future. You may not understand what they are singing but donʼt let that mask what are ultimately Canadaʼs next big musical export.

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

25/09/2007

16:32

Page 4

Scroobius Pip vs.

Dan Le Sac Scroobius Pip vs. Dan le Sac popped up on our radar here in early 2007 with the excellent ʻThou Shalt Always Killʼ, a sort of manifesto for good living and right thinking, raging against herd mentality and pop culture laziness.

They followed it up with the stormingly danceable ʻThe Beat That My Heart Skippedʼ and a string of concert dates across Europe. Not bad for an unsigned duo who

make their records in their bedrooms (bit of a cliché by now, I suppose). It remains to be seen if they have the longevity to avoid the old one-hit status. Andrew from Trinity FM caught up with them at the Electric Picnic.

Analogue: We better go back to the start, because not a lot of people over here will have heard of you. Obviously youʼve had a lot of exposure with ʻThou Shalt Always Killʼ, and now with the new single ʻThe Beat That My Heart Skippedʼ, and people are getting to know you. But whatʼs the back-story for those who havenʼt?

Scroobius Pip: Thereʼs not a lot. I mean, this is our first year of our being a band and we did our first gigs in October of 2006, so weʼve just been really lucky in how quick itʼs all kind of happened...

Dan le Sac: How many gigs did we do in 2006? Three?

SP: Three in 2006 and itʼs all gone from there …

DlS: About four million now!

A: I think I caught you some time in late 2006 on [XFM DJ] John Kennedyʼs show …

44

DlS: That was early 2007.

SP: Again, for ʻThou Shalt Always Killʼ, I recorded the vocals in my bedroom, and Dan recorded the stuff at his place. I sent a CDR to John Kennedy the day after we recorded it and he played it like three hours after hearing it and receiving it. It was just amazing that he got on board so quick and really heʼs been just a legend for us since with airplay and sorting us out gigs and everything … really, heʼs been just amazing.

Itʼs good that thereʼs still a radio station where the DJs can just get behind something, regardless if itʼs playlisted or being pushed by a major label. He just heard it and liked it and went from there.

DlS: But to be honest, XFM is pretty much the last one of them in the UK. With Radio 1, itʼs very much the producers. The presenters do have a say, but thereʼs still very much a committee element about it.

SP: Even on Radio 1, itʼs good to see that the DJs can still choose a few tracks outside the playlist. Weʼve had Zane Lowe and Rob da Bank very much get behind us and really support us. It means a lot more because itʼs not them just choosing it from a list of songs that theyʼre allowed to play, itʼs them kind of saying, “Itʼs not on our list, but weʼre going to play it anyway, ʻcause we like it”.

DlS: It means that unsigned bands can do this. Weʼve played Lowlands, Benicassim, Glastonbury, Electric Picnic, Reading and all these festivals. How many unsigned bands can say theyʼve played all of those in year?

A: Of course, it didnʼt hurt that you had an excellent video…

DlS: It was banging!

SP: Again, it was done, completely for free, by a guy called Nick Frew whoʼs done our new one as well, on a budget marginally greater than zero. He does an amazing job.

For both of the videos, me and him met up a few times and kind of brained ideas. Then he went away and turned them into something far better than I could have imagined each time. Heʼs just a great director, a great guy. DlS: I donʼt get involved in all that. Iʼve got beats to write, things to do...

SP: You see, Iʼm the poncy arty one.

A: Thatʼs what I was wondering, whatʼs the group dynamic like? You were saying that you do each your individual bit and then you sort of put them together. Who does what first?

DlS: Either....

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

SP: Itʼs always varied …

DlS: Iʼd write a lot, and Iʼll just send him random things, and if heʼs got an idea, then heʼs got an idea. Like the newest one weʼve been playing live is called ʻBack from Hellʼ, and the whole track was just my rough idea of what the track would be, and he was like “No, thatʼs perfect, perfect, thatʼs exactly what I want, donʼt change it...” and I was like “But I want to make it bigger...”

SP: Lyrically, that one is one I wrote a year or two ago and never got round to using, and I never found the right beat for. There are no rules in how we write really ... that sounds like weʼre trying to be appallingly rock and roll: “There are no rules, we just write”...

A: Itʼs all just freeform.

SP: It does seem to gel together quite nicely.

It works.

A: You both seem to do quite a lot of side projects, or rather just collaborate with other people...

SP: Yeah, a bit here and there.

A: So, are there any particular dream collaborations that youʼd like to do?

SP: Prince, Iʼd love to collaborate with Prince! Thereʼs tons of people. Both of us have worked in music shops, so when youʼre into so much music, thereʼs just so many people youʼd love to work with. The ones Iʼve got to work with so far have all been quite small acts, but ones that Iʼm really into and really excited about, so itʼs cool. Thereʼs no, “this person is huge, so I want to work with them above this person”.

Itʼs whatever the vibe is at the time.

25/09/2007

16:32

Page 5

people on a journey and grab them more than just a catchy hook which everyone will remember, kind of thing...

DlS: For me, itʼs just move your body...

SP: Really?

DlS: Thatʼs my central message, no matter what. Even with the slow ones, they make you move. All music should physically make your arse do something at least.

A: I wanted to ask you about your lyrics for ʻThou Shalt Always Killʼ ... the title and the last line?

SP: Um … a lot of people have come up to me and said like “Is it a Nietzsche type reference, where we have to destroy everything to begin again?”

DlS: Especially with the art work having that little Hitler ballerina figure, because Hitler cynically espoused Nietzscheʼs ideas...

SP: ... so I generally agree to go with that.

Other people have asked if itʼs that we, as humans, will always kill and if itʼs kind of a statement on that. But literally, itʼs a poem I used to end my sets with. Itʼs kind of from the hip-hop vernacular that if youʼve played a good set, youʼve killed a good set. So, literally at the end of a poem, it would be ʻThou Shalt Always Killʼ, and Iʼd leave the stage. Thatʼs where itʼs from, and people just seem to take their own ideas and opinions on it, and thatʼs perfect and brilliant.

DlS: MTV America donʻt put up the “Kill”. Itʼs called ʻThou Shalt Always...ʼ

A: Suddenly yelling, “Itʼs wrong, do it again...”

DlS: … “Itʼs wrong, make it slightly chubbier” … you know, itʼs not very helpful!

A: So, is there a central message, or mission that youʼre on?

SP: Lyrically, itʼs just a case of putting as much content and just... no, there wouldnʼt be one specific theme throughout all of it. I try to get storytelling and some views and opinions in, and just try to make sure thereʼs some meat in the lyrics, and it will just take

DlS: But thereʼs a lot of little radio DJs that picked it up and got behind it …

SP: Good people …

DlS: But then thereʼs some bigger ones like [Breakbeat DJ] Adam Freeland. He was playing it literally within days of John Kennedy, but in LA. If you look at where it gets played in LA, everyone will come back to hearing it on Adam Freeland. Itʼs amazing how, if youʼve got a good record, one person can actually make a difference, and make it happen for you.

A: Weʼre coming to the end of this, and I havenʼt got a lot of brain power left … so Iʼve got to be really rude and ask, the beard?

SP: Yeah, a lot of people have asked, thinking its religious or something. Itʼs not.

Itʼs just I fancied having a beard...

DlS: No, see he says that, but he used to cut himself on the face...

A: He has an ugly chin?

DlS: Yeah, he has a really ugly chin and tried to cut it off...

SP: I donʼt have a chin...

SP: … on the title ...

DlS: … they refuse to put up the word “Kill” …

A: Do they leave it in at the end though?

DlS: Whereas thereʼs no one Iʼd want to collaborate with, because thereʼs no one Iʼd want to inflict myself on. Iʼm difficult and Iʼm not very good at expressing myself, or at expressing whatʼs wrong with something, so I will just stand there going “Itʼs not round enough, itʼs not round...”

SP: Itʼs the power of the Internet for us.

YouTube and MySpace have just been great for us. When ʻThou Shalt Always Killʼ got on the front page of YouTube internationally, our profile went through the roof ʻcause it meant it was being watched by people in America, by people in Holland and just all over the world.

DlS: In the lyrics, itʼs fine. But they wonʼt actually put those words on screen.

A: Is it like a Marx thing, that as soon as he could, he grew a philosopherʼs beard?

DlS: Itʼs more of a mathematicians thing ... he looks like Pythagoras!

SP: It is known as the Pythagoras look.

A: ... you wear the robes round the house ...

SP: Itʼs pretty dark.

DlS: It was weird around the time of the [Virginia Tech] shootings, ʻcause weʼve got this big banner on our webpage that says “Thou Shalt Always Kill”. We had a few people saying, “You canʼt say that” and it was really strange trying to explain it to people. Theyʼre in such an emotional state about something else, and weʼre saying “Itʼs just hip-hop, man” … you just have to be just a little apologetic.

A: So, youʼre getting exposure over in America as well?

DlS: Yeah, weirdly, without any actual deliberate intention to.

DlS: Not just round the house. In London generally, heʼs in robes, carrying a stone tablet of some kind.

SP: Around the my small town in Stanford I now, having had a small level of success, feel it is appropriate to walk round in a robe.

DlS: …trying to solve problems with triangles...

Scroobius Pip vs. Dan le Sac are supporting Rakim at The Village on October 10th as part of the Heineken Green Synergy Festival. ʻThe Beat That My Heart Skippedʼ is out now.

Words: Andrew Booth Photo: Brendan McGuirk

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

25/09/2007

16:32

Page 6

Simian Mobile

The experimental duo who brought us the gloriously filthy single Hustler last year sit down with Analogue before their pounding set at the Electric Picnic to answer a few questions.

the bit for me.

Jess: I think thatʼs why we do it. We really like gigs and we like to make music. We enjoy playing but we are just essentially playing music we made all the time gigging so it is probably the studio where we feel more comfortable.

James: having said that, the gigs have been more fun than we have given them credit for. We werenʼt that super keen on it but we made a system where we were flexible and it would be different every night. It has been really fun but if it came down to it Iʼd be with Jess and say the studio.

So although you are now on your own, Simian is no more, why did you keep the name afterwards? Why not call yourself something different and break the reference to your old band?

Jess: People say Simian Mobile Disco was instrumental in breaking up Simian but it wasnʼt at all. It was part of Simian, it was part of the band. The band had split up over differences between each and all of us and we just sort of carried on after the band and did out own thing. It has been a good three year gap between now and then and we have evolved from then.

We used to DJ under the name Simian Mobile Disco while we were in Simian and we just thought we would keep the name.

You seem to have been one of the bands at the vanguard of this period in music in that you have been able to seamlessly marry dance, rock and electro. So for example you have made indie kids dance. How does that make you feel?

James: I think in a way we were pretty late into electronic music.

We werenʼt born or brought up with house music. We are definitely from a rock background and in to all sorts of types of tunes but mainly what you would call rock music. But it has been only recently that we have begun to get excited about electronic music so I suppose itʼs a good thing that we can be that stepping stone to that whole new world of um, bleeps.

So you are now in a band and make your own music and have just released a CD. However James you also produce, most notably you produced the Arctic Monkeys second album. In which area do you feel more comfortable in?

Producing other peopleʼs music or making your own music?

James: For me personally I think the studio, whatever it may be. Whether it would be with Jess or whatever, in the studio is

Thereʼs a cross breeding of genres so to speak recently.

Has it been an exciting time for you in music-recording and producing?

Jess: Yes. Itʼs great. All these set genres that you used to go into the rock section and dance section in like music stores.

That doesnʼt fit anymore. All these genres seem old fashioned.

Well the terms, they seem wrong. Itʼs great. I love the fact that thereʼs this cross pollination going on between all this different

46

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

25/09/2007

16:32

Page 7

Disco

............................................

Words: Conor O’Nell ............................................ stuff. It means that people like us now, who are young are now opening up to electronic music and stuff. By mixing these things together itʼs not so polarized as before. Itʼs not like two separate camps of dance and rock as before. Now you can get people who like pure electronic into bands like Lcd Soundsystem and from there get them into something you may call traditional rock and indie. I think itʼs good.

James: I think itʼs a testament to the way people listen to music these days. For example you have access to all different types of music and you just shuffle them up on your iPod. I think that has changed the way you listen to music. It definitely has for me and I think that in turn more so in the future it will change the way people make music.

So it is almost liberating now where preconceptions about music are gone and blurred?

James: Yeah. Like the way you mix the music up and be more I suppose eclectic is good. Nowadays you hear DJʼs playing a good broad range of stuff and I think thatʼs great.

So what should one expect from a Simian Mobile Disco gig? How does say a festival compare to a stand alone gig?

Jess: Yeah. Thatʼs the thing with festivals. You never know what itʼs going to be like ʻcause people are there for a laugh, not just to see you and you have to focus on that. You have to kind of watch people and rope people in somehow. Itʼs different. I think it means you can play a slightly weirder set. In a festival you have to be aware that people will walk off if youʼre not holding their attention so we will be watching the crowd and if people start leaving we will be aware of that.

Is it hard trying to mix and play a song and watch the

crowd, trying to gauge their reaction?

James: Thatʼs the best bit of it really. Thatʼs what we liked about DJing. If a song wasnʼt working you could change direction and thatʼs a really good thing about DJing. Like in a band you generally have to play your own songs.

So you have been together for almost ten years. Have there been many good and bad times?

Jess: Oh thereʼs been some bad times!

James: I think to be in a partnership and travel around and go through stressful situations you have to get on with each other where in a band with other people you can kind of deflect that tension a bit onto others-not intentionally but you know…But Jess and I, weʼre pretty laid back so we have gotten to a point now where we can almost know what we are going to do in a musical sense, when weʼre DJing.

Jess: The whole reason we did this was as a side project for a laugh. I donʼt think we would have done this otherwise, if we donʼt have a laugh doing it.

So what does the future hold for Simian Mobile Disco?

James: Well weʼre booked up until something like 2012! Nah, well May next year and then thereʼs festivals and itʼs crazy. The DJing has been good. We donʼt know what to expect though. It could all end up wrong either. We have a tour of America and you never know we could break up which is what happened to Simian!

Really? How? James: We had an argument in a fish restaurant in Texas.

Thatʼs how Simian ended!

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

Analogue: Things have been pretty mental for you lately, is it good to be back in Ireland?

Fionn: Itʼs cool, itʼs what I am, and I suppose itʼs where everything starts from. The place that you grow up in, thatʼs the root of everything that happens. The information in your bones and in your skin, itʼs great to come and play for everybody.

25/09/2007

16:32

Page 8

Fionn Regan

A:The title of your album, The End of History is very striking, whatʼs the story behind it?

F: As you travel along through life itʼs like you reach these stations, certain things happen, and it felt like Iʼd reached a capital city station, and when I hit the platform it felt like it was alright to talk about the journey. Now itʼs ok to document the evidence of what has happened, whether itʼs been your childhood or anything after that.

A: Do you think itʼs going to be hard to find an album title as grand for your next album?

F: Ah these things usually present themselves! Everyone crams at the last minute.

A: Thereʼs a lot of imagery in your lyrics about journeying, is that for you what this album documents?

F: Yeah, jumping over a fence, waking up in a barn, yʼknow, the things that happen. I donʼt want to build houses for all the lyrics in the songs. I donʼt want to overexplain- if you build houses, you build walls for them, and then you canʼt really knock them down. Of course in every song thereʼs people involved and thereʼs feeling in the words, but I donʼt feel the need to write them on billboards.

A: The video for Be Good or Be Gone is interesting with all the different locations and the live sound in it. Where did the idea come from?

F: These two guys came up with the idea and we all sort of knocked our heads together and got something down on paper, and then presented that piece of paper to the grown-ups who were holding the purse-strings, who in turn thought we were losing our minds, asking “ How are you going to pull this off?” We did it for two-pence hapenny. I think we managed to do something different in an area thatʼs been so overworked…itʼs very hard to come up with anything that adds to the wheel, but I think we hit on something.

A: You recorded The End of History live, is this the sort of recording you plan to continue with for future albums, with vocals and guitar recorded together?

F: Absolutely. You figure out early on what jacket you wear, yʼknow? What jacket works. When it comes to recording for me it has to happen in the moment, it has to be there, itʼs got to be happening and itʼs gotta be real.

I canʼt record in any other way. Itʼs gotta be one big open plan room. Rather than separate small rooms with different things happening in different rooms that nobody has any idea about. A lot of times on records, people are punching in and out, theyʼre never really getting a feel for what everyone else is going through.

A: So recording both vocals and guitar together, do you capture the moment?

48

Words: Brendan McGuirk

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

F: Youʼre forced to up your game. Itʼs very easy now to spend a long time doing one thing. You have to be ready, the sails have to have taken a bit of a battering, and you have to work out how to get out of a storm in the ocean on a two-by-four plank. Whether youʼre playing outdoors, or in a telephone box or a mop-cupboard or in an attic, or in the cab of a lorry, you learn something from that and it informs the way you play, so by the time you get to document the songs, youʼre ready, and if not then itʼs not time to do it.

A: Your tour scheduleʼs been pretty mad lately, have you been writing much while youʼre on tour?

25/09/2007

16:33

Page 9

F: I think so. When I was growing up I heard a lot of poems being read, people telling stories and spinning yarns so I think itʼs part of your make-up, itʼs in your DNA. In ʻBe Good or Be Goneʼ I say “I have become an aerial view of a coastal town that you once knew” and itʼs like wherever you go in the world and whatever you do you have this collage of images and this information. Itʼs there in your bones and your teeth and your hair and it never leaves you. I think the more I learn about Irish literature and storytelling I can see little similar references, things like the mail boat, because Joyce talks about that. Thereʼs definitely a shared meter and imagery.

F: Weʼve pretty much been playing straight without any days off for a year and a half. Itʼs like being on a submarine. You come up for air and you might scribble something down. Sometimes youʼll write things in the back of a car somewhere…

A: The Irish have a knack for that. Is the “wink-and elbow” talk something that you try to incorporate?

A: I read somewhere that you said that the best songs are written on crumpled pieces of paper.

A: How does it feel to be up for a Mercury Music Prize?

F: Itʼs true! Though I donʼt know how long I could do that for before it started to affect what I wrote. Iʼve been trying to find a home for my first record for such a long time, and Iʼve been writing songs over quite a long period of time, which is sort of strange when you move to another point and then youʼre getting pulled in two directions. People start shining light on the record and things start happening, and youʼve moved on and people are explaining your whole life with 12 songs that took you two years to find a home for and then spent a year on the road with…thatʼs a long time. Iʼm really excited about getting the next record done because I think everything will start to make more sense - it wonʼt have to be branded or pigeon-holed because they wonʼt be able to anymore.

F: Itʼs a way of seeing things. The whole thing is a mystery to me. I just write about what I see and what I feel

F: I kinda feel like a lighthouse keeper at a wedding. You arrive down from the lighthouse and thereʼs flashing lights and bulbs and it takes you a little while to get used to it and adjust, and at the end of the night you might be up in front of the wedding band.

A: Is it something you could get used to then?

F: Well itʼs quite hard for me to talk about. For the last couple of weeks Iʼve had to answer lots of questions about the mercury prize. And itʼs kinda hard enough to talk about what you do anyway, and when it comes to prizes…itʼs like asking a tobacconist if heʼs interested in moving into the area of roof-racks for Land-rovers. Heʼs gonna look at you quite crookedly!

A: Does it piss you off that you do get pigeon-holed?

A: So does the attention that goes with it bother you?

F: They like to invent a neighbourhood for you to live in.

But nobody really knows what happens behind closed doors. Just because youʼre from one area doesnʼt mean you have an expensive car, and just because youʼre from another area doesnʼt necessarily mean you rob cars. And nobody dreams about the same things, or fights about the same things or thinks about the same things on the way to the bus-stop in the morning. In a way itʼs kinda frustrating, but at the end of the day what you do is write songs and play shows, and theyʼre the most important platforms.

F: Well its just part of it. You have to accept this in every job that you work. Iʼve on worked loads of jobs and you have to accept it if someone comes onto a building site and tells you what you have to do that day. And thereʼs other parts of doing music that you know are not that easy, but you have to override that and rise to the challenge.

A: One thing that sets you apart from past Irish singersongwriters is your ability to sculpt a witty anecdote into a song with a great melody. Where do you draw your experience from?

F: I donʼt know, I suppose everybody likes a laugh! I donʼt see how I canʼt talk about how if I walk past someone lying on the side of the street being pissed on, I canʼt deny that as someone who writes songs, that works its way in- or if someone has lost their mind at the hands of an institution.

And you canʼt deny girls or whatever else it is that takes your fancy! But everyone likes to have a laugh. Humour is a thread, most people can understand it, itʼs something that makes everybody elated and illuminated.

A: Your lyrics also show an appreciation for the little things in life that people donʼt notice, perhaps reminiscent of Patrick Kavanaghʼs writings. Do you think Irish writers have had an influence on your writing?

A: Itʼs definitely been a whirlwind for you this year.

F: Everything blurs into one. Leaving one room and it becomes the next room,one car joins with another car. Itʼs just a collection of the same kind of thing but the weather changes. We got a present of a camera and I looked at the pictures on it, running through the last couple of months, and itʼs very difficult to tell the difference between the days or anything. It just goes ʻvenue, sound check, car, venue, sound check, car, room, car, motorway, car.ʼ But what else would you be doing?!

A: Do you have the next album planned?

F: Yeah I have the songs finished; I just have to put them down. Iʼve got two weeks in January and itʼll probably be out a couple of months after that.

A: To finish, of all the themes that run through your songs, what is the most personal to you?

F: You just have to tell the truth. If thereʼs dirt under your nails sing about it. Donʼt run off into the corner with a matchstick to try and clean it out!

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

S e h T

25/09/2007

16:33

Page 10

s n hi

Words: SinĂŠad Bevan Fumbling around in the murky gloom of The Olympia dressing room, James Mercer, lead singer with The Shins, is having trouble locating a light-switch. We're supposed to be conducting an interview, but considering we can barely make out each others faces, Mercer has taken it upon himself to rectify the situation. Finally, success, and a feeble light above the mirror flickers on. As my eyes adjust, I realise this is an extremely modest setting in which to interview the lead singer of one of America's biggest bands.

is. Which is to be expected, when you consider that he has been playing in bands since the early 1990s. After earning his rock and roll stripes in his first group Flake, Mercer set up The Shins in 1997, striking a deal with his parents: if this latest attempt did not produce an album to be proud of, he'd put down his guitar and head back to college. It was lucky then that the seeds for The Shins first album Oh, Inverted World were sown during this period, and the band have been growing in stature ever since.

Yet Mercer seems unfazed by his surroundings, and as he settles into one of the Olympia's battered red velvet chairs, I think he could be any overgrown indie boy recently pulled off of the streets of Dublin . Scruffy jeans, a non-descript t-shirt and a couple of days worth of stubble, if he wasn't an international rock star, you're pretty sure his mother would be sitting at home worrying about him. However, unlike most scruffy indie boys, Mercer is engaging and articulate (and polite, he helps me check my mini-disc player is working), and within thirty seconds it is clear how much of a professional he

The Shins first played in Ireland three years ago, taking in both Oxegen and Whelans, and Mercer has fond memories of the Irish gig-going public. When I ask him what we're like compared to American audiences, the answer could almost sum up the typical American view of Irish natives in general, though from Mercer it is a compliment. "You guys are more boisterous in a jovial, good natured sorta way. There's really boisterous crowds in our hometown of Albuquerque but they're not jovial - they're kinda threatening and hostile!" This may explain why Mercer has since upped-sticks for Portland,

50

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

25/09/2007

Oregon, a place with a greater respect for music, it being the spiritual home to the late great Elliott Smith. "Portland is a cool place. It would probably feel less 'foreign' than a lot of other American cities. It's kinda like a European city, it's a modern progressive town." In more than ways than one, Portland is a million miles away from the desert landscape of his New Mexico hometown, as Mercer happily admits "It rains all the time." Considering the non-existent summer we've witnessed, it seems Mercer has every reason to feel comfortable here on Irish soil. The subject of rain naturally brings us onto festivals, and we discuss the mud-fest that has become synonymous with outdoor events these past few months. However, this year, The Shins' their festival experience took them to furtherflung territory, as they played the Fuji Rock festival in Japan, and came across a completely different fan base. "Japanese fans are totally nuts, but at the same time completely restrained. And there's no trash anywhere," Mercer laughs incredulously, "kids don't throw shit on the ground!" What they do do however, is give. Mercer gives an embarrassed shake of his head. "The first time we went to Japan we felt like bastards, because we didn't realise they had this tradition of gift giving." The band were regularly greeted in their hotel lobby by crowds of polite softly-spoken Japanese fans, eager to shower their idols with gifts before deferentially scurrying away. On returning to Japan this summer, Mercer made sure he came prepared. "This time I went with all kinds of smoked salmon from Oregon. They were stoked!"

From this bizarre anecdote, its clear there are clearly different rules of engagement for different continents, so how does Mercer feel about Europe in comparison to America? The Shins are big business in the States now, their 3 rd album Wincing the Night Away debuting at number 2 in the Billboard charts, the highest ever placing for their label Sub-pop. There was a great deal of hype surrounding the band after their name check and soundtrack use in a well-known American indie film, so is the hype less pronounced in Ireland and the UK? Mercer is in two-minds. "It's definitely catching up. Selling out the Olympia, that's a big deal for us." Its less manic for the band in Europe, but only slightly. "You step back in time a little bit, but it's changing quickly. In a way its kinda sad - things are so much simpler when you're a smaller band. Now you start sweating the small things, whereas when you're a smaller band you just show up and you don't really have the ability to worry about how you end up sounding. You just go out there and do it."

Of course, Mercer and his band-mates have been going out there and 'doing it' for more than a decade now, so the rise into the big leagues is appreciated after years of playing small venues in supporting slots. Nowadays, band are being signed before they've even played three chords together, so does this make Mercer feel old? "I think I feel old because I am old! I'm 36 now, I've been this way for ten years though." Indeed, it seems Mercer was born a generation too late, and any outward signs of 'coolness' he says are an act. "I was always

16:33

Page 11

faking it when I was in Flake. I pretended I was into what was current, but really I was like "Whatever." In reality I was listening to the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Sam Cooke."

He was still cool, just in an old school way. "We're always asked (adopts perky TV presenter voice) "What's your TOP FIVE RECORDS from last year," and Jesus, I'm like "I couldn't name you ten records that came out in the last ten years!" Of course, he is exaggerating slightly. "I have the Arcade Fire record, I have the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah record, I have the Peter, Bjorn and John record. I'm hipper than my mom!"

Much of Mercer's inability to keep up with today's music may have something to do with the fact that touring and recording takes up the majority of his time. Add to this the recent birth of his son, and its unsurprising that he's unaware of the new music that is out there. Considering these factors, its therefore also unsurprising that touring is becoming less of a priority for him. In the week that they played the Olympia, the Shins had a gig scheduled for the following 5 nights, in 5 different countries. Mercer admits that the buzz can get old very quickly.

"At some point its gonna feel like we've played this fucking set for a year now. That's when you get the feeling its about time to do a new record. You get this kind of intuition about it, and its at that point that I'll start pushing for time off." This is not to say that Mercer does not enjoy gigs, he simply does not appreciate the concept of touring as glorified promotion.

"There's always some sort argument to do a gig because "Hey guys, if you do this - they'll play you on the radio!" He snorts sarcastically and rolls his eyes heaven-wards. "Which is a really shitty game to play." The Shins may be a big American band, but their label, Sub-Pop is still only an independent label, "And indie labels have no fuckin' sway at all" where the radio markets in the US are concerned. "Even all those alternative radio stations in The States are extremely corporate. It's just like the old days - its payola." Not that Mercer is too bothered really. While he laments the narrow-mindedness of the MTV generation, he's not exactly sure he wants to be lumped in with 'emo' bands and lip-synching Britney-alikes. "It's not like a lot of our songs fit in with My Chemical Romance, and this is the stuff that seems to be really working - the kids fucking love it!

You can't really argue with that - that's our lot." What Mercer seems to be saying is that The Shins may not be down with the kids, but really, they've been around too long to care. Later that night I watch them walk out onto the Olympia stage to greet the 'boisterous jovial' Irish crowd, and the vibe is certainly not that of your typical emo-gig. True enough, there are guys with ludicrously tiny waists in skinny jeans hiding behind their floppy hair, and there are a few girls with panda eye make up and skull and cross bones all over their t-shirts. But the higher proportion of the crowd are new professional types, still not willing to abandon their indie credentials even though they're now probably working 9-5 and have a mortgage. This is the spirit that The Shins successfully tap into as they launch into an energetic set- yeah we're older but we're still hip. Hipper than your ma, that's for sure.

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

25/09/2007

16:33

Page 12

Seasick St Words: Gareth Stack

Next to Seasick Steve, it’s impossible not to feel a little fake. This is a man who plays the ‘one string Diddley Bow’, a two by four with a steel guitar string crudely nailed at either end, a man who learnt to play at the feet of someone named ‘Gentleman George outta St. Louis’; a man who rode the rails as a hobo, lived rough playing “three string, two string, one string, sometime no string guitar”, because “a lotta times, you didn’t have all the strings. If you stop when you break a string you don’t eat”.

Seasick Steve (christened Steve Wold) is the real deal, and next to him we’re all a little less authentic.

Kicked out of home at thirteen by a violent stepfather, Seasick became a factotum - tirelessly crossing the United States, working dozens of jobs. “Forty five years ago, riding the train, I used to play music on the streets. People started listening and I started to get club requests. I didn’t choose that life, that’s just how I ended up. Once I got the chance there was no reason not to do it. I could live in a little room somewhere. That was a long time ago.”

Steve became a session musician and producer during the 90’s, cutting perhaps eighty Seattle punk and grunge records at his own ‘Moon Studios’. He

52

continued playing clubs to a small but loyal following, earning a little but never making it big, never getting the chance to release his own material. Steve was too young when he left home and two old when he found steady work to ever get the habit for it. He continued to travel, finally ending up in Norway, the home of his current wife Elisabeth, where he earned his unforgettable nickname on a rough Blues Cruise to Denmark. Then a couple of years ago something changed.

“I started playing with [deceased blues legend] R.L. Burnside and Jon Spencer [of New York revivalists Blues Explosion], and kids started coming. The people who used to like blues, they listen to Eric Clapton, they don’t like it, what I do, and I didn’t think kids would like it either”. As it turns out, hipsters and music aficionados, raised on the musical abundance of the internet, Robert Johnston and Led Belly by way of Kurt Cobain (below whom Steve once lived in Seattle), find something to love in Seasick’s uptempo boogie blues. It’s easy to see why Seasick’s particular brand of ‘song and dance’ has separated him from blues revivalists like the White Stripes or Kings of Leon. Seasick’s act is more about the great western story telling tradition (think Utah Phillips) than Mississippi or Chicago blues. “I don’t know if I belong to anything, but that’s more important than playing the guitar - guitar was a second thing, something so they won’t walk away so quick.’ He attributes his success not so much to originality as to the re-discovery of something lost, something from the roots of rock and roll. ‘People nowadays are hungry for something a little bit different, a little bit raw. People been playing guitar behind their head a long time, Zepplin and Hendrix didn’t invent that, it’s not a new thing, the old Delta guys back in the 20’s did that as a trick at parties.”

Analogue_Section4(pg42-53):Analogue magazine_section4

25/09/2007

16:33

Page 13

eve Photography: Kate Southall Steve hangs out after gigs, walks through the crowd, wireless electric guitar hanging from his Denim dungarees, “I’d do that if there were 10,000 people.

People haven’t seen that before.”

These days though, it gotten harder to mingle with his audience, as he plays to crowds in the tens of thousands at festivals across Europe. There are places in the UK Seasick Steve can’t go without getting mobbed in the street. All of this started because Joe Cushley, a DJ on Resonance 104.4 FM, heard his music somewhere and wanted to get a CD; but the big break was an appearance on Jules Hollands 2006/2007 ‘Hogmanay’ new years show.

“Playing for five million people is a lot different to playing for a few thousand.”

I tell Steve I’m surprised to learn he’s stuck by his woman, despite success, and it’s attendant benefits.

“That’s the way to get unmarried. I been married before, and that’s how I got out of it, whoring and such. Let me tell you the best pick up line I ever heard”, he says, effortlessly breaking into the story telling mode that’s hooked him a new generation of

fans. “I was playin’ in Belfast last year and this young girl, maybe twenty comes up and she says ‘I love you’, and I thank her, cause everybody says that, and she says it again, ‘I love you’, and I thank her once more, but she looks at me and says ‘No, you don’t understand, I love you. You see that guy over there?

That’s my boyfriend, and I’ve just told him I love you too.’ I tell her, I say, ‘Girl, I am old enough to be your grandfather,’ and she looks me right in the eye, tells me ‘If you were my grandfather I’d be into incest.’

Steve is philosophical about such celebrity obsession.

“It’s weird looking the way I do, walking along the street women cross the road to avoid me, I look like an old bum or some such. But you play music... I got so many girls after me, and they really are. You see somebody performing, somebody with talent, and that’s so attractive.”

Seasick Steve played the Spiegeltent at the Dublin Fringe Festival on the 18th of September.His album ‘Dog House Music’, is available now.

53

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:20

Page 2

Analogue

Pubs and clubs in Dublin So here you are. In a modern wealthy The Front Lounge European capital, home to three universities, Google and Microsoft, Parliament Street, Dublin 2 more Polish people than there are in Poland possibly and more gay people Effortlessly cool and home to an ever changing array of artwork as a percentage of the population than on its walls, since its inception almost 15 years ago it has a welcoming home to the cooler guys and gals of San Francisco. There MUST be become Dublinʼs gay scene, but overall a great bar it is for everyone. something for everyone in this city. Yes Have a beer and oggle at the pictures on the wall by some of there is and here is your guide to this Irelandʼs up and coming artists. fair city.

The Porterhouse

Pubs: Dice Bar Queen Street, Dublin 1 Smithfield and its surroundings wouldnʼt exactly be the first place that comes to mind when trying to find a good pub, but lo and behold! Here you will find one of Dublinʼs finest pubs, the Dice Bar. A bit dingy (hey, itʼs Dublin 1, what you expect?), sometimes claustrophobic with its dark lighting peppered with some red lights-probably a reference to its proximity to Benburb Street and its infamous ladies of the night-it nevertheless oozes cool. The music is eclectic and so is its clientele. Dice Bar is a great way to start a good night on the town.

Voodoo Lounge

Parliament Street, Dublin 2 So good it is now a franchise. The Porterhouse is famous for the beers it brews onsite hat are unique to the pub. Popular with tourists and Dubliners alike it is never dead and is always a great place for a night. One cannot come and not try out one of the strange beers that they make right in the pub.

The Globe Georges Street, Dublin 2 The Globe has never lost its place as one of the finest bars in Dublin. Its hard to describe what makes it so great. Is it the dark lighting and European atmosphere, or its sense of relaxation even when it is busy? One does not know. However, what is for certain is there is never a bad night in The Globe. A word of advice-get in before 11.30pm, and when it turns into the club Ri Ra, you donʼt have to pay in!

Arran Quay, Dublin 1 Pizza! Thatʼs the smell you get when you first enter, as this place is as famous for its New York style pizza as it is for being a great little music venue. Some of Dublinʼs newest bands can be found here at the weekends and the atmosphere is playfully hectic. It almost seems like a cooler version of our next bar....

Eamon Dorans

The South William South William Street, Dublin 2 The new owners have broken the curse of this venue (it used to constantly change ownership and style) and have created something slinky and sexy. This is a late bar at weekends and is one of the best places to hear funk and soul in the city. Oh, they also make great pies during the afternoon and evening.

Temple Bar, Dublin 2 If they excavate the floor of this place they will probably find a Def Leopard fan c.1985, at least one member of The Fall, and a plaid shirt from some grunge kid that did not last longer than Kurt himself. In fact this place seems to have been around since humankind started banging clubs together to make music. It has earned its reputation due to the sheer breadth of time it has been here. But what do you get? Well, a late night bar all week, a jukebox that veers from Franz Ferdinand to Thin Lizzy and a basement gig area that has been the launchpad for many an Irish band. It shows its age but is refreshingly unpretentious.

Doyles

The Long Hall Georges Street, Dublin 2 That it was saved from demolition and incorporated into the new Dunnes Stores headquarters is proof that this is arguably one of the best traditional pubs in Dublin. Thereʼs no music, and the carpet has probably been there since the time when post boxes were red. It hosts one of the strangest mix of crowds, from down at heel students to the old stereotypical auld one at the bar with his whiskey and glass of water. It is a refreshing break from the brash young pubs in Dublin.

College Street, Dublin 2

Anseo

Its beside Trinity. ʻNuff said

Camden Street, Dublin 2

54

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:20

Page 3

Analogue When Whelans became too stuffy and stuck in its old singersongwriter, I Love BellX1 and Paddy Casey ways the cool indie kids slowly but surely took over what was once an old mans pub.

Slightly grotty and festooned with posters for bands and clubs this is a great place to catch a good dj and relax. Word of warning, at weekends the crowd can be massive and the heat suffocating.

The George Bernard Shaw Camden Street, Dublin 2 Another pub which has been slowly turned from an old manʼs local to the home of the cool kids. This time itʼs the lads from Bodytonic who have transformed this bar into a nifty little place to begin a night before heading to the Pod. Thursday evenings are the best with Neon Love from 9 to 12 playing the best alternative dance and electro you will find in the city. www.myspace.com/clubneonlove

Strictly Handbag Ri Ra, Dame Court, Dublin 2 This is Dublinʼs longest running club night. Held on Mondays in Ri Ra the downstairs plays 80ʼs classics from New Order to The Cure to The Human League, while upstairs you will find the incredibly sexy DJ Dandelion. She ainʼt like most DJʼs in town.

This woman knows her 60ʼs French pop and obscure 70ʼs British rock. You may not like Mondays but you will love Strictly Handbag.

The Gaiety Theatre Yes itʼs a theatre, but on Friday and Saturday itʼs a club. It is one of those places you canʼt put your finger on. With three bars and a changing repertoire you can stumble across anything, from jazz to rock, to a showing of a classic film. It most definitely is not your average club, but would you want ʻaverageʼ from a club owned by a theatre?

Clubs:

Backlash/Pogo

Antics

The Pod, Dublin 2

The Pod, Wednesdays Dublinʼs definitive indie night. It may sometimes feel too cool for school and snooty with those people who wear sunglasses inside (ugh!) it nevertheless never ceases to be a great night. Split into two areas the bar is for indie electro and electrorock where one will hear the sounds of Digitalism and Simian Mobile Disco. The Crawdaddy venue is more indie and where you will pogo to Soulwax and Daft Punk. Oh and did I mention all pints are 3 euro? www.myspace.com/antics_crawdaddy

Whelans Wexford Street, Dublin 2 Every evening this remains one of Dublinʼs enigmatic and greatest pubs, but it is the club in the back room Thursday to Saturdays when this place becomes the domicile of Dublinʼs indie kids. Attempt to dance on the packed dance floor to the likes of The Jam and Bloc Party. It is where many a man and woman has been anointed into the Dublin rock and indie scene.

It is also one of the most atmospheric live venues in the city, with a disturbing number of Irish bands getting their first taste of the stage here.

The Bodytonic gang are probably the finest club promoters in Dublin. Taking up residence in the Pod on Thursdays is Backlash.

Here you will find the best up-and-coming Djs from Ireland and around the world, while its bigger sister Pogo on Saturdays is probably THE club night in Dublin and blows all others out of the water. Pogo is famous for pulling in the biggest names in dance and electro to DJ. Both are essential nights for a lover and follower of dance and electro. www.backlash.ie www.bodytonicmusic.com

Pandamonium Eamon Dorans, Dublin 2 Dj Loreana resides in the dark recesses of the basement in Eamon Dorans on Tuesday nights and brings forth from the caverns one of the most eclectic mixes of music you will find in this city. If you are a fan of Apples in Stereo or Spiritualized, The Beatles or even Paul Simon there is something for you here.

Musical enlightenment and one of Dublinʼs best kept clubbing secrets. www.myspace.com/pandamoniumclub

www.whelanslive.com

The Hub

The George

Temple Bar, Dublin 2

Georges Street, Dublin 2 Dublinʼs premier gay club, but donʼt let that put you off. Sundayʼs drag queen show and bingo night, hosted by the perpetually marvelous Shirley Temple Bar, is one of the funniest and memorable club nights in Dublin for gay and straight alike.

Wednesday is more alternative while Thursday is pure inhibited pop. Always an experience.

Underneath the Mezzanine bar opposite the IFI is The Hub. It may smell of piss on good days, you definitely wonʼt have phone coverage and expect it to get very hot, but donʼt let that put you off. The Hub has been for the last 2 years or so the place to find new Dublin bands and dance to all the big tunes from Primal Scream to LCD Soundsystem.

Conor OʼNeill

55

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:20

Page 4

Album Reviews

Feist // Josh Ritter //Richard Hawley // MIA // Super Furry Animals // Yeah Yeah Yeahs // Interpol // Animal Collective // Paul Hartnoll // Ewan Pearson // Liars // Ungdomskulen // Misha // Stars // Broken Social Scene presents Kevin Drew // the Go! Team // Shapes & Sizes // Castanets 56

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

Feist The Reminder Interscope Thatʼs it! Enough! Itʼs too much. Iʼm writing a letter to the government to ban any more music imports from Canada. No, its not that we are being inundated by Bryan Adams or anything. No no no, quite the opposite. I am being overwhelmed by the sheer quantity and quality of bands emanating from the bars and apartments of Toronto, Vancouver and Montreal. What have they put in the water, or what god did they sell their souls to, to achieve such a critical mass of quality that there is now?

To the vanguard today we have Feist. A woman who has collaborated with such Canadian talents as Peaches, who called her Bitch Lap Lap (nice) and Broken Social Scene. So where does she fit in all of these?

Well nowhere.

Feist has gone out of her way to create earnest and delicate indie rock that is as polished and refined as a Rolls Royce without the pretensions. On her second proper album “The Reminder” Feist has created the perfect record for those late evenings sitting out in the summer. Its range of styles prevent it from being pigeonholed, itʼs best compared to a good wine: vibrant, abundant and lush with aural fruits and melodies.

“The Reminder” is an eclectic piece of work which never allows its various styles to overwhelm the whole product.

Each song brims with class and understatement. Recent single “My Moon My Man” is a wonderful, wistful gem of easy pounding pianos with earnest, playful lyrics while “Sea Lion Woman” has the characteristics of an old Nina Simone classic.

There are hints of understated beauty near the end with “Honey Honey” and the excellent, melancholic closing track “How My Heart Behaves” .

“The Reminder” is an accomplished piece of work from one of Canadaʼs finest musicians that is accessible to almost anyone. It is a wonderful addition from a nation which continues to leave us musically in awe right now.

Conor OʼNeill Josh Ritter The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter

Independent Records In this year of The Boss, Josh Ritter has followed the pack with his fifth and latest offering The

20:20

Page 5

Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter.

Recorded in a farmhouse in Maine, it is a raucous and rollicking affair, leaving behind his folksier roots he has instead adopted an alternative country-rock vibe, taking cues from Dylanʼs Highway 61 Revisited, Springsteen (who else?) and slightly reminiscent of a younger but harder rocking Kris Kristofferson. This trait is most obvious in the vocals, gone is the boyish charm of yore and gone are the melancholic love songs of Hello Starling and the transcendental poetry of The Animal Years.

Ritter now sounds older, more confident, but no wiser.

With itʼs torrent of insipid and meaningless historical and biblical imagery, Historical Conquests inanity seeps through the lyrics and music to create a whole that is truly uninspired. Ritterʼs PR team describe last years effort The Animal Years as “a meticulously crafted and stately paean”, with a hint of ironic doubt this is hardly a wild claim to accept. Whereas The Animal Years held a resonant beauty in itʼs lyrics and instrumentation, Historical Conquests, in contrast, seems like a complete cop-out.

“The air of gravitas around me was getting oppressive. For some reason it seemed like there was a premium being placed on earnestness and that can be pretty stifling.

There was a lot of talk about true love and righteous indignation. I wanted to write about gunslingers and missile silos.” – Josh Ritter Ritter buckled under the pressure of having created such a magnificent and topical work, yet one which was seemingly enduring. If he wants to truly live up to the legends that are his heroes; Dylan, Cohen and Welch, he needs to avoid another mistake such as this. The Golden-Age of Radio proved his talent in its raw form, Hello Starling showed that he had a popsensibility for broad appeal and with The Animal Years Ritter realised he had something to say, a stance to take. Ritter may have done himself a grave injury with Historical Conquests. If itʼs a runaway success he may be forced into a self-dug grave of bland country rock. We can only hope that he can overcome The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter and that itʼs follow up will be a return to form.

Paul Bond

Richard Hawley Ladyʼs Bridge Mute Records I must admit I never really listened to Richard Hawley until this album popped into Analogueʼs mailbox.

Dear god, I have been missing out! On what

you might ask? Well what could possibly be one of the finest albums of the year, thatʼs what. Quite strong a response from me: and one which was totally unexpected. It is hard to explain how I came to love this album. It is melancholic and contemplative, two things you wouldnʼt expect to leave such a positive feeling in someone. Recorded in a run down building in Sheffield and affected by the death of Hawleyʼs father during its inception an astonishing beauty has been born.

“Ladyʼs Bridge” has been laced with a 16 piece orchestra to create a wonderfully layered and exquisite piece of work which will warm your heart and brighten your soul.

From the very beginning you are swept away. First song Valentine is pure orchestral brilliance that elevates the listener into a haze of strings with a hint of sadness.

However it never affects the predominant feeling of contentedness. The first single off the album, the deliciously uplifting Tonight The Streets Are Ours is a wonderfully positive song on an album which all round soothes the mind. It is in the lyrics-mournful and heartbreaking we find the power in this album. Richard Hawley has found a commanding way to marry the dark mood and lyrics prevalent throughout with an exquisite ensemble of instruments which has created something special. “Ladyʼs Bridge” is an accomplished piece of work which duly deserves a fair amount of acclaim.

Conor OʼNeill Liars Liars Mute Records Iʼm not that familiar with Liars. Pitchfork tells me that they are a band at the forefront of modern rock, that they are avid experimentalists, and that this, their fourth effort, really is very good. Maybe Iʼm just uninformed, but I really canʼt agree. This is Liarsʼ “return to form” album, meaning theyʼre using guitars again. That means different things of course, depending on how cynical you are. To my virgin ears, this sounds like experimental punk rock. The first track is brash and obnoxious, hammering home the same repetitive riff for the duration. Vocals are forceful and monotone, drums play every beat of a 4/4 bar. Doesnʼt sound great, but its actually quite effective once the band start adding layers of melody and force – itʼs definitely one of the best songs on the album, yet it also exposes some of its weaknesses. If experimental really is the albumʼs selling point, whereʼs the depth? Repetition and brutal energy can be great things, but unless itʼs done with cleverly or at least a nod and wink, it tends to make the other, more

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

ambient tracks sound like unprofessional, indulgent wank. Constant rythym, delay and detuned, reverb-soaked guitars do not automatically make good experimental music, and the vocals and cover art do little to convince me of any depth. Not great, might be interesting live though.

Steven Lydon

Interpol Our Love To Admire Capitol I put this question to you. Why is it that some people and mainly critics have it in for some bands who fail to push the musical threshold to the next revelatory level? Why canʼt a band continue to fine-tune their sound, tweak it here and there and continue a natural if slow progression? I have read many a review about Interpolʼs new album “Our Love To Admire” and I canʼt get over the disdain some people have for a band whom they took tightly to their bosoms way back in the early days of this decade. Here was a band who eschewed the high flying rock revolution brought on by the like of the Strokes in favour of dark melancholy and a penchant for quasi-fascist fashion. At worst they were called a lesser manʼs Joy Division but a commendable double edged analogy it was.

Right. I have gotten that out of my system so what is “Our Love to Admire” like? Well compared to “Turn On The Bright Lights” and “Antics”, nothing majorly different. With each album Interpol have become more polished, honing their sound and guiding us through their rabbit hole of despondency and darkness. There is a noticeable lack of stand out songs bar the first single, the aurally pounding “Heinrich Maneuver”. Intricacy is the game, the intensity more subdued and lyrically more opaque over time. However, you do feel as if the band have gotten lost a bit and a desire for this kind of perfection has overtaken a need to up the ante musically and inventively.

It is near the end we get the real beauty in this album.

“Wrecking Ball” is full of trademark Interpol senses of desolation and joylessness but is sonically layered to perfection while the closing “The Lighthouse” veers wonderfully into a kind of laid back Arcade Fire. Interpol are more or less a machine, slowly over time being more properly oiled and trenchant. It is maybe this comparison which shows why some people are unhappy with this band, they are sometimes too robotic and dare I say it - mechanical to venture into new musical realms. Nevertheless “Our

58

20:20

Page 6

Love To Admire” is a resolutely strong Interpol album that still has those little snippets of power and beauty which redeems us to them every time.

Conor OʼNeill

Stars In Our Bedroom after the War Arts & Crafts The O.C. spearheaded a rise in the record sales of bands whose music could adequately convey the torment of beautiful rich teenagers, having beautifully rich problems, in a beautiful and rich setting. The lyrics of ʻYour Ex-Lover is Deadʼ from Starʼs sophomore album ʻSet Yourself on Fireʼ resounded in the hearts of Newport kidsʻThis scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin/Tried to reach deep but you couldnʼt get inʼ- and the spoken-wordy section at the start allowed the producers to feel smug and slightly avant-garde. However, if ʻSet Yourself on Fireʼ was Newport Beach, California, ʻIn Our Bedroom after the Warʼ brings Stars back to their Canadian roots. ʻMy Favourite Bookʼ could have been written by- or for- Feist and ʻBitches in Tokyoʼ sounds like a new Broken Social Scene track (hardly surprising given that Stars is practically a B.S.S. side-project). Yet, it would appear that during the musical move from Cali to Montreal the emotion was lost.

Songs such as ʻThe Night Starts Hereʼ move along prettily, but as Amy Millan sings on ʻMidnight Riotʼ- ʻSweetness, sweetness never suits meʼ. Stars are at their peak when Millan and Campbellʼs voices intertwine over bittersweet melodies and heartbroken, tentative lyrics- the beautiful ʻPersonalʼ, or ʻLife 2: Unhappy Melodyʼ. In an attempt to avoid tracks leaking pre-emptively, ʻIn Our Bedroom after the Warʼ was released onto itunes a full two weeks before it reached shops. They neednʼt have bothered. While the record contains some gems, they are lost in the lush production. Stars cannot seem to reconcile their B.S.S. tendencies with their operas of the heart, leading to uncomfortable shifts and mood and sound throughout the album. On ʻToday Will be Better, I Swearʼ, Millan notes -ʻYou never knew just how to put out a fireʼ- yet perhaps they shouldnʼt be trying to put it out…

Ailbhe Malone

Super Furry Animals Hey Venus Rough Trade The Super Furry Animals are one thing for sure: predictable. You know theyʼre going to come down from the Welsh hills and dazzle us with wonderful psychedelic pop to tickle our minds and

soothe our ears, but deep down they have a way of annoying me. You see although they are a mighty fine band - one of the finest to emerge in the last decade or so - you just KNOW there is a hidden seam of utter wonder and awe to be tapped within the collective minds of the band, a kind of jaw dropping, revelatory, almost era defining album or moment-a noughties version of OK Computer I suppose. But they never seem to find it. Theyʼre seemingly blissfully content in making some fine pop tunes and putting them together regularly every two years or so.

So here we come to their eighth studio album in eleven years, “Hey Venus”. It is a pretty uncontroversial, normal (if one could use that term for the Furrys) album from the Welsh band.

Relatively short at just over 36 minutes we have an album seemingly split into three different yet seamless parts. Starting with the playfully sumptuous pop of “Run Away” we are treated to Phil Spector wall of sound and big orchestral drums. We then head down the normal Super Furry Animal road of eccentricity, oddball antics and slightly twisted pop. First single “Show Your Hand” is an effortless and amusing three minutes but thoroughly whimsy-free compared to previous fare from the band; and “Neo Consumer” is the apparently only danceable song on the album. However it is near the end that the beauty comes out.

“Carbon Dating” is charmingly ethereal, “Battersea Odyssey” is last orders calling and we have a thank you and good night folks with the demure and coy “Let The Wolves Howl At The Moon”.

So what do we have then? Well nothing revolutionary unfortunately but thankfully the only bad patch on what is, for want of a better term, musical candy. “Hey Venus” is accessible, charming and very much in sound and style a good Super Furry Animalsʼ album. I shall wait happily and contentedly for my musical second coming from the band.

Conor OʼNeill

Yeah Yeah Yeahs Is Is Universal The new Yeah Yeah Yeahs EP “Is Is” is a collection of songs recorded between their major releases. With that in mind, itʼs given that the album is hardly a radical departure from their signature sound – it showcases both their energetic and atmospheric sides. Whatʼs interesting though is that these contrasts generally arenʼt achieved at huge expense to the rawness of the music as a whole, arguably the bandʼs most appealing

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

characteristic. The chorus of “Down Boy” features a guitar veering off into higher octaves only to return in the same breath to the bass heavy, over the top distortion of the main riff. This leaves a pretty conspicuous gap in the mix, and the track is all the better for it. “Rockers to swallow” has a great call and response vocal/guitar line for the intro, making good use of the space the three piece is allowed. When it all comes together in the anthemic chorus, the vocals retain an element of sniggering irony despite matching the rousing swagger of the riff.

When the band does quieten down on the later tracks, they tend to sacrifice the pentup, nervous energy that works to such powerful effect. The threatening empty spaces fill with synthy pedal notes, and the tension dissipates. This neglect of dynamics does make the tracks more listenable and dancefloor ready, but makes the instruments as innocuous as any other four-bit indie band. Overall though this is an interesting listen, and charts the development of the band nicely.

Steven Lydon

The Go! Team Proof Of Youth Sub Pop The Go! Team! Theyʼre back, back, back! Get your dancing shoes on ʻcause weʼre going to party. Yes Brightonʼs finest motley crew, kings of the samplers are back with album number two Proof of Youth.

“Are you ready for more?” shouts the energetic Ninja on Titanic Vandalism and after the reception Mercury nominated Thunder Lightening Strike dot we can cheer “Yes!” So what have they brought us this time? Nothing new to be really honest. Itʼs sample-tastic but this time more structured than the debut which was at its release totally illegal. This is a bit of a problem. This album lacks that garage sounding allure of the first album.. In some parts it is definitely a lot more relaxed. ʻMy Worldʼ has the sound of an American government advice video on the ways to cross a road safely and if one band could actually bottle that sound itʼs The Go! Team. Furthermore several of the songs seem slightly childish in their sound. Do these negatives kill the album? Most definitely not. It still is a great party album.

You will still find yourself dancing manically to Fake I.D and Grip Like a Vice but in time there is the strong possibility that over time one can get a bit jaded by the similarities with both albums. Proof of Youth is playful, slightly more laid back than its predecessor but a great album to soundtrack a party.

Conor OʼNeill

20:20

Page 7

Ungdomskulen Cry-Baby Ever Records That this three piece are of Nordic origin is immediately obvious – the unpronounceable name, the accent-laden vocals and seemingly awkward lyrics all attest to this fact. It soon becomes apparent, however, that this initial quirkiness is actually a central aspect of the bandʼs sound, and not a result of my closet Anglophilia. Opening track “Ordinary Son” is a catchy and average enough dance-rock tune, which had me pegging the band as some sort of Scandinavian LCD soundsytem. By the time the four minute mark had passed during the cowbell heavy interlude of “Glory Hole,” I knew something interesting was going on.

By the time the seventh minute had passed and the band was in the middle of a grandiose post-rock outro, still singing straight facedly about glory holes, I knew I was in the presence of excellence. Its pretty eclectic then, in a bass/guitar/drums kind of way. The songs range from short and catchy to proggy and long, but theyʼre always bombastic and intense without relying on aggression or frills. Anthemic choruses pop up frequently enough, but are always welcome and cushioned nicely between lots of variation and build up. Vocals are always audible and catchy, though they can sometimes be hard to take seriously between the crooning and occasionally sketchy lyrics – but thatʼs not a problem really as the band have the musical chops to carry it through without a hitch. As a whole its pretty damn solid without ever taking itself too seriously, its enjoyable and a lot of fun. Just be careful dropping that name there kids.

Steven Lydon Misha Teardrop Sweetheart Tomlab A quick glance at the track titles on ʻTeardrop Sweetheartʼ yields uninspiring emotions.

Titles such as : ʻLosingʼ, ʻTryingʼ and ʻCruelist Heartʼ all denote a certain knowing melancholy that Sony BMG have latched onto as ʻthe Next Big Thingʼ.

Indeed, on the surface, the content would border on irritating if not for the peppy fashion in which the songs are deliveredlight-hearted production, summer-evening chord progressions and Casio beats are mixed with witty, whimsical (and yes, melancholy) lyrics. However, it retains some of Tomlabʼs signature sound: ʻCruelist Heartʼ- brings to mind a high-pitched electro Manu Chao remix, and ʻAnacondaʼ opens with one of the best line on the albumʻAnaconda, sitting in her Honda/ Feedinʼ in the parkinʼ lotʼ. From ʻAnacondaʼs tropical reptilian sway, to the Philip Dick-inspired ʻThe Book (of Glaciers)ʼ, the album remains simultaneously eclectic and cohesive, a fact

which could either be testament to be Ashley Yao and John Chaoʼs musicality, but which would probably be more accurately attributed to the killer team of producers behind the record (Ted Gaier and Melissa Logan, to name but a few). Misha are at their best, though, when they eschew the remixes and are left alone singing over a Casio and a drum machine, as exemplified in the closing track- ʻTryingʼ. At a little less than 30 minutes for a debut album, ʻTeardrop Sweetheartʼ is deceptively simplistic, charming on the ear, and far too brief.

Ailbhe Malone Ewan Pearson Piece Works K7 Pearson began dabbling in the art of remix in 1997 and this compilation is a collation of his best work from then until now.

Although Pearson successfully translates selected songs from pop to dance in this double album, and their acoustic grounding to one more electronically orientated you canʼt help but feel that he hasnʼt really brought anything that new to the song. He tends to repeat certain ideaʼs throughout the first disc, namely a frenetic techno infused descant that hovers above his introduced bass. On his remix of Goldfrappʼs infamous ʻTrainʼ he omits its captivatingly subversive bass line at the beginning in what appears to act as a means of redundant variation, especially since it is introduced anyway toward the end. Not that the remix doesnʼt sound good, but most of the credit is due to Goldfrappʼs original song. This is the same, but to a lesser extent true for his remix of the Chemical Brotherʼs ʻThe Golden Pathʼ, which again sounds good but only in a slightly refurbished way.

I will admit though that I really liked his remix of Fieldʼs ʻSong for the Fieldsʼ with its Unkleesque indie/electronica hybrid sound and there were flourishes of innovation to be found on Silver Cities ʻShiverʼ.

Pearson should be credited more with his good taste in music rather then any innovation used in his remixes. Donʼt get me wrong, when dancing under the influence, these monotonous perpetual beats will satisfy the debauched ʻDancing no thinkingʼ frame of mind, but for those of a sober disposition its best to stick to the original tracks.

Shauna OʼBrien Various Artists Puppy Love Compilation Tomlab The Puppy Love Compilation is best exemplified by the liner picture- a group of kittens with their faces Tipp-exed out: Cute, quirky and a little messed up. For a record label that contains artists that are, at times, difficult to listen to, Tomlab have done a

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

stellar job of making the compilation both credible and accessible at the same time.

The impressive roster of artists on this German label ranges from The Blow, to Patrick Wolf, to Final Fantasy to Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, encompassing bands like Ninja High School and Simon Bookish along the way. The 21 track sampler begins with one of Pitchfork Mediaʼs songs of the 2006 (ʻParenthesesʼ by The Blow)- a delicate, tentative and witty offering of, if not love, then at least mutual trust, set to a background of handclaps and an old 8-track recorder- and doesnʼt let up until Xiu Xiuʼs melodramatic ʻSuhaʼ closes.

Tracks which would seem incongruous in any other setting -such as The Books ʼfound-sound- heavy ʻSmells Like Contentʼnestle happily amongst Catholic rapping (Ninja High School), laptop beats (Simon Bookish) and classical violin (Final Fantasy).

Put simply, the record is the audio equivalent of a teen crush- exciting, heartbreaking, uplifting, soul-crushing and exhilarating, all in an exponentially brief period of time. In short, Puppy Love.

Ailbhe Malone Animal Collective Strawberry Jam Domino Strawberry Jam sounds like a SNES drowning. That at least is the first impression you get from the opening synth freak-out of ʻPeaceboneʼ. However gradually a lurching rhythm is beaten out of the messy salvo of noise, and as it turns itself inside out, clear melodic vocals catch you and transport you into the world of Animal Collective. Their world is dark and claustrophobic, but beams of light manage to pierce through the massing clouds overhead, lighting your way through the beast they have created.

The epic and hysterical ʻFor Reverend Greenʼ builds into a disorientating and draining attack, but one which is laden with sweet hooks. It provides a fulcrum around which the other songs turn, on this relatively short album at nine tracks. The disappointing ʻWinter Wonder Landʼ and the noise barrage of ʻCuckoo Cuckooʼ are lumped into the second half of the disc.

However the closer ʻDerekʼ, with itʼs squelchy ʻunder the seaʼ a la Little Mermaid vibe, provides gentle release after the tumult of the previous forty minutes. But it is rather from ʻPeaceboneʼ through to ʻFireworksʼ, that the real magic happens. ʻUnsolved Mysteriesʼ, provides a ballad of sorts set to chopping beats and ʻChoresʼ launches into attacks that constantly deconstruct and rebuild themselves. As for ʻFireworksʼ it is the beautiful come-down after the assault by the ʻFor Reverend Greenʼ There is no doubt that this be could the standout album of the year. They have

60

20:20

Page 8

drawn a lot of their sound from the electronic meanderings of Black Dice, and Avey Tare and co-vocalist Panda Bear have started to sound like Jeff Mangum of Neutral Milk Hotel. These arenʼt bad things especially since Animal Collective couple them with a perfect balance of the humdrum, the fantastic and the menacing in their often indecipherable lyrics. On a first listen it may seem at times senseless and primal, but itʼs a definite grower and the rewards offered by Animal Collectives pop sensibilities are nothing short of majestic.

Paul Bond Various Artists The Art of Chill - mixed by the Orb Platipus Records The Art of Chill series is a compilation that delves into the dark back alleys of electronica to score us some quality ambient music.

The series comprises of various tracks compiled and mixed by guest artists, who share their eagerness to smear the two CD canvas with their own visions of chilled sound. From its fledgling beginnings mixed

by Altitude, who stumbled through its infancy with tracks from Charlotte Church, Sinead OʼConnor and Oakenfold, on to Jon Hopkinsʼ mix of rebellious adolescent experimentation with Aphex Twin and Brian Eno and graduating with a third installation into System 7ʼs conglomerate with mixes of Tosca, I:Cube and Gaudi.

Therefore it seems only natural for the series to enter into its fourth run under the listless eyes of ʻThe Orbʼ. An act so ambient, Noel Fielding of ʻMighty Booshʼ fame coined the phrase ʻ…more ambient then the Orbs third albumʼ to describe the hyperbolic blandness of his colleagueʼs personality.

Obviously an absurd concept as its common knowledge (okay, thatʼs clearly a lie) that little exceeds the ambience of the Orbs third album.

Trust them then on the second CD of this compilation to deliver us an ambient rendition of the angst saturated ʻSmells like Teen Spiritʼ, a razor-wire song once belted from the raw throat of Kurt Cobain. Utilising the opiate lament of a sitar, the song is rinsed free of any former rage replacing it instead with subversive Eastern chill.

Beginning the compilation with Bowieʼs Warszawa is a brave move setting a standard of legendary proportions, especially as it is Eno produced. Alex Patterson of the Orb reminisces in an aptly nostalgic tone about how in the humble surroundings of a bedsit in Earls Court circa ʼ78 they ʻwould put a record on to fall asleep to and that was usually side 2 of Low album

by David Bowieʼ Given the stamp of approval by the man himself with his cooperation in the making of this album, I think gives the Orb adequate

reason to establish it with this song.

Of course, no chill out record would be complete without the token Eno track, but oddly his input into this album lacks the electronica edge that usually gilds his songs. Instead the Orb have substituted it with a more acoustically directed track of Enoʼs, which serves effectively in breaking up any threat of an electronica white-wash.

Other songs that mercifully splinter the ambient relay of tracks include ʻDub Powerʼ (you can probably guess the genre of that one yourself) and a track brought to us by Ulf Lohmann which would feel more at home among derelict Soviet block buildings in some Eastern ghetto.

Other tracks are simply beautifully arranged pieces of music as heard on the melancholic strings of Nina Walsheʼs Narcissist and of course Ennio Morriconeʼs orchestral track which dodges in and out through the chicanes of an epic score and nonchalant stroll. Obviously, the Orb had the luxury of mixing their choice of tracks on this album minimizing their excuses for any erroneous features. But regardless of this they still provide some of the best material on these CDʼs themselves, demonstrated on their song ʻCodesʼ.

Thatʼs not to say that this album is fault free, perhaps at times shimmying on the ledge of monotony with tracks like ʻGas 1ʼ as its relentless ventilator rhythm pulses through, unchanging until the subsequent track rescues it from plunging into the banal. The 2 CD anthology of all things ambient concludes with the mellow lullaby of Husky Rescue enticing us to ʻSleep Tight Tigerʼ.

In a perfect world (one free of Irish weather, supplemental exams and the swarms of Spanish students hell bent on bottleknecking Grafton Street) this album would be best listened to while relaxing lightly tipsy beneath the warmth of the evening sun outside post-exam Pav…in a perfect world.

I confess that when I heard that the Orb were to be the compilers of ʻThe Art of Chill 4ʼ, I expected a litany of tracks taking ambience to extreme lengths of minimalism, best indulged while getting baked Vancouver style.

But now after experiencing its tranquil but by no means mundane mix, I gladly concede defeat and stub out my insult.

Better still, follow Pattersonʼs advice and “Crack open a chilled Guinness and think on…”

Shauna OʼBrien

Paul Hartnoll The Ideal Condition ACP Recordings It has been three years since the disbanding of Orbital, moniker of the legendary fraternal duo, Paul and Phil Hartnoll, and both have

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

simultaneously chosen this summer to come out with their first major individual releases.

Whereas Phil Hartnollʼs collaboration with Nick Smith under the name Long Range seems to have gone under the radar, Paul, who has also provided tracks for the Wipeout Pure compilation has been quickly embraced and with good reason too. His success lies mainly in the fact that he does not attempt to revive Orbitalʼs distinctive sound instead, distancing himself as much as possible from it with an album featuring a full orchestra and 32 piece choir.

This contrast is especially apparent in songs like ʻThe Unsteady Waltzʼ and the albumʼs concluding song, ʻDust Motesʼ, featuring the unexpected melancholic voice of a solo violin which culminates in a fugue of orchestral instruments enriched with an atmospheric Danny Elfman inspired choral arrangement.

Hartnoll tames down his cinematic, soundscaped enthusiasm in pop infused songs like ʻNothing Else Mattersʼ and ʻFor Silenceʼ striking a nice balance between Lianne Hallʼs vocals and the string saturated chords that explode into the song after the verse.

Thatʼs not to say that this album doesnʼt cater for the electro/dance inclined who will find solace with the electronica haven of ʻPatchwork Guiltʼ and songs like the tenacious and brilliantly noisy ʻAggroʼ. Along with this ʻPleaseʼ with its imploring vocals provided by The Cureʼs Robert Smith helps to inject that bit of aggression and danceable rhythm into this otherwise acoustic but very impressive debut release.

Shauna OʼBrien Castanets In The Vines Asthmatic Kitty Now this is a real gem of an album, of the diamond in the rough variety. Vacillating between gritty solo vocals and a choir that sounds like Sunday church singers after hours in a Nashville bar, In The Vines is a gorgeous little slice of feedback-drenched, roughed up, flint-eyed Americana. Frontman Raymond Raposa and co. share the same label as Sufjan Stevens and My Brightest Diamond, Asthmatic Kitty Records – who seem to have something of a knack for putting out records filled with introspective lyrics that remain as heartbreakingly direct as they are personal. The studio effects and washes of aforementioned texture and feedback work exceptionally well with the acoustic strings and the country/Americana vibe, and Raposaʼs gritty voice, which is a bit like a mix of tomcat and Tom Waits, lends the music a haunting, honest sweetness and intensity that makes for serious repeat listenings. Highlights on this album include the heartstring-tugger ʻWestbound, Blueʼ, the calmly intense ʻSwayʼ and the almost Beta Band-like layering of sound on the

20:21

Page 9

closing track, ʻAnd the Swimmingʼ. Stick a rocking chair on your font porch, pour a few fingers of whiskey and…simply…enjoy.

Carolyn Power Shapes and Sizes Split Lips, Winning Hips, A Shiner Asthmatic Kitty Another mark in favour of Canada as the new epicenter of all things weird and wonderful, Victoria/Montreal band Shapes and Sizes make it their business to create, as they put it themselves, ʻthe melody that apexes in your brain when you were told for the first time that a tomato was really a fruit and that everything youʼve ever believed with certainty was a lie.ʼ They go about this by combining carnival-like melodic abandonment with free-flowing, effervescent lyrics and effects, resulting in a collection of songs in Split Lips… that range from the stomping drive of ʻAlone/Aliveʼ and torrential apex of ʻGeeseʼ to the more chilled, layered atmosphere of ʻThe Taste In My Mouthʼ and the rhythmic, sing-along ʻTeller/Sellerʼ. One particular highlight for its free, almost bluesy vocal line is the introspective and minimal ʻCanvas Skies Muslin Treesʼ; and another definite winner is the exuberant, tribal ʻVictory In Warʼ. There is something here to match every mood, and this band prove without doubt that it is entirely possible to be innovative and left-ofcentre and still create some really classic music that will be running through your mind for days after hearing it.

Carolyn Power MIA Kala XL M.I.A is nothing but eclectic. From her unique fashion style honed from time in fashion college to her music which is almost indescribable, mashing styles into a musical melting pot and serving it steamy hot to our plates. The woman is a revelation in a scene which can at times be banal and dull. So here she comes with album number two, the incendiary Kala. Recorded literally all over the world, this is the sound of a world tourist with attitude. The influences and styles meshed into this album range from traditional hip hop to Indian film scores. It is never a boring ride with M.I.A and especially so on Kala.

So what is it like? Well for one thing it is not for everyone. Traditional hip hop fans will be flummoxed while the drums and tweets of songs like “Bird Flu” will be painfully odd for the uninitiated but thatʼs M.I.A for you. It definitely stands out from the crowd. Hereʼs a lady who has turned Pixies classic “Where Is My Mind?” into a filthy electro stomper with rapping in “$20” and has taken Indian

pop to the next level with the stand out single “Jimmy”. Overall it is a lot more mature and vibrant from her Mercury nominated debut Arular. Kala is the sound of a woman with clear intentions to trash traditional music genres and violate your eardrums with the most progressive rap and dance out there today.

However I need to stress again that this is not for everyone. Some may get a feeling of Delhi Belly from the rampant madness of “Boyz” or get a earache from the aural madness of “Bird Flu”. Kala is definitely an explosive album and affirms that M.I.A is a force to be reckoned with in todays musical landscape.

Conor OʼNeill

Broken Social Scene Presents Kevin Drew Spirit If… Arts & Crafts Though ʻSpirit If…ʼ is ostensibly a Kevin Drew record, it stays firmly on B.S.S. territory. The influence of Spearin and Benchetrit (who guest on many of the tracks) is explicit, though never overwhelming, especially on ʻSafety Bricksʼ and ʻFarewell to the Pressure Kidsʼ. The romantic highlight- ʻGang Bang Suicideʼsounds like a step-by-step template for a B.S.S. ballad- ʻAnthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girlʼ- by numbers- a breathy intro, climbing bass and soothing glitches before culminating in a lush forest of sound and sentiment, leaving the audience heart-struck and melancholy. However, without the constraints of B.S.S., (though one canʼt imagine them being a particularly constrictive bunch), Drew draws on a broader spectrum of sounds- such as late Pixies (ʻBacked Out on the Causeʼ) or Cornelius-like electronica (ʻBig Loveʼ) to flesh out his almost-solo effort. The ensuing sonic effect makes up for the lack of cohesiveness in the tempo, which careers from ambient to an Animal Collective-esque canter. Drewʼs lyrics remain as elusive and subversive as ever, and the album showcases Drewʼs favoured topics of ʻfucking, fighting, fearing and hopeʼ. There are echoes of Springsteen, and of yearning, as Drew emotes in ʻLucky Onesʼ- ʻWhen the crying separated in comes the sun/Heard it through a song that a girl once sung/Sheʼs the reason why Iʼm trying to make it alright/Trying to drive through girl, wish it tonightʼ. In short, ʻSpirit If…ʼ sticks to its roots, whilst exploring new ground at the same time, allowing for a comforting, yet stimulating aural experience.

Ailbhe Malone

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:21

Page 10

Crazy Robot Giveaway!

In order to get your hands on one of the following tasty packages, email your details to:

analoguemagazine@gmail.com putting the name of the prize in the subject line.

2) C D (x Ds isto r y V H D f / o s (x2) CD nd ion C D The E it : d n n a o g C n Re Ideal * Fion (x2) ll: The o n t rs C D r e a s H a L l ith * Pau le: W de Ro e (x5) d (x2) n * Bo se C D 2 CD a K le S e : , R ple Kid ustain * Sim cay, S D e C D e , ) ack lic: Liv D (x5 o: Att * Vita D/DV e Disc C il n b o io ot x3) ian M ag ic P DVD ( M o * Sim o : s Z y Ke he s at t Black t : UFO * The s ip L th Oc erts o d, 7 ming c ip la n r F o T c e , d Oct lub OD * Th y, 22n ony C y of P d P s d e g a t n d r u w o Cou i, Cra ov New Y Gigs 4th N Suzuk ets to y k e n ic o ipo d, t r o f T M o , e e ir h iv * Pa ollect s to T h Oct ticket imal C r y, 6t n f o A o t c e a ir h F T n * Pa Butto ets to , The f tick s o r a ir t a S o * P kets t of tic ir a P *

62

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:21

Page 11

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

Picture the scene, it’s 1978 at the Hope and Anchor, the filthy North London venue, where a year before the Stranglers laid down their legendary bootleg.

Johnny Rubbish, a twenty something, looking thirty something, try hard in a custom leather jacket, is spitting introductions like a bad vaudeville routine. A tubby kid mounts the stage. She wears a garish trouser suit and braces, and her curly hair is slammed down under a black trilby. The crowd heckles, and in a dirty East End accent, she tell them “Shut ya’ mouth”, and yells out, “Art-I-ficial!”.

Janet Street Porter filmed the gig, an early XRay Spex show, for London Weekend Television; interviewing a shy and gigglish ʻPoly Styreneʼ (Marion Joan Elliot), then a baby faced 21 year old, on the eve of the bands debut album, ʻGerm Free Adolescentsʼ, and the punk rock big time. “I know Iʼm artificial, but donʼt put the blame on me, I was reared with appliances, In a consumer society.” Before Minor threat, before Dead Kennedyʼs and Earth

64

20:21

Page 12

Crisis, before Rage against the Machine, before political punk became a cliché, a short hand for boringly earnest xFuckinx tatts and bat wielding Youth Crew militants, came a little known new wave punk band, with socially conscious lyrics and big ambitions. This is the story of that band, of itʼs head, a mixed race girl and a mess of contradictions, a trained opera singer and rampant creative, who would ultimately retreat from the world of consumerism, into the mystic promise of Krishna and the anonymity of the East. X-Ray Spex would produce just two LPs, and be all but forgotten; but in their brief time together the band, considered a fluffy novelty in the anarchic milieu that birthed the Sex Pistols, the Clash, the Specials and the Buzzcocks, would have an influence greater than many of their more ʻcredibleʼ contemporaries.

“Wanna be instamatic.” Poly sings, “Wanna be a frozen pea. Wannaʼ be dehydrated, in a consumer society.” The tape is grainy and heavily interlaced, the crowd melting to a muddy sludge, but the band rise up, day-glo on the screen, pastel blurs streaking from the darkness. Her voice is husky, dark and cataclysmic, “Introducing worker clone, as our subordinated slave, his expertise proficiency will surely dig our grave.” She drops words, keeping pace with the frenetic melody, yelling out like a proto Jello Biafra. Later, tilting her head shyly under the gaze of St Porterʼs camera, Poly flashes a knowing grin. Sheʼs well aware of the commodification already turning punk into just another product. Poly has

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:21

Page 13

no pretensions “I just like to dress in bright colours and things like..Jolly.” Her humour is a joyous counterpoint to the the bleak vision of her contemporaries. “I wanna be freeee,” she says, voice rich with self mockery. Street Porter, searching for feminist credibility, elicits a reluctant “What I write, you know, I think should be good, or should mean something anyway, should be relevant to whats happening now.” Relevance was a feat X-Ray Spex managed easily, and their stark unadorned lyrics remain as current today, three decades later. The band seem to have sprung onto the music scene, fully formed. After only six rehearsals, a recording from their second ever gig appeared on 1977ʼs ʻLive from the Roxyʼ mix LP. They were to disappear just as swiftly, only two years later, with their first album still charting, and the record buying public readier than ever for their minty fresh brand of agitpunk.

As with Vivian Westwoodʼs stable of pet punk rockers, X-Ray Spex unique visual impression was far from accidental. Poly had a stall on the Kings Road, designing and selling her own ironically synthetic clothes. Like the situationists of the 60ʼs, Poly was an expert at detournement, the art of subverting the cultures iconic imagery. “If somebody said I was a sex symbol, Iʼd shave me ʻead tomorrer,” she told ʻSoundsʻ in ʻ77, instantly turning herself into one. The Spex quickly built up a following, gaining a weekly residency at Chelseaʼs hip ʻMan in the Moonʼ theatre. Lacking the obvious dub and reggae influences of later two-tone bands didnʼt stop them including a heavy dose of saxophone in their music.

While escaping the defeatism of their contemporaries couldnʼt prevent their lyrics from being timely and even prescient. Polyʼs songs swing from the dangers of cloying consumerism, to genetic engineering, obsessive compulsive disorder, and media constructed narcissism; somehow always managing the perfect political pop hat trick of hummability, topicality, and originality. The Spex signed with Virgin to release their first single ʻOh Bondage, Up Yours!ʼ, and EMI for the LP ʻGerm Free Adolescentsʼ. After Janet Street Porters intellectual seal of approval, and an appearance on John Peels much lamented Radio One sessions, the Spex got their big break; a two week residency in CBGBʼs, a club that served as the beating heart of the nascent New York punk scene.

“Do you see yourself on the TV screen? / Do you see yourself in the magazines? / When you see yourself / does it make you scream?” Much of Polyʼs colourful aesthetic and politicised rhetoric would be borrowed later, by the 90ʼs Riot Grrrl movement; while X-Ray Spex upbeat ʻmusicalʼ sound, influenced much of the melodic punk and ska that was to follow. Yet somehow the band were doomed from the start. Their anti-consumerist bent and positive thoughtfulness, couldnʼt gel with a commercialising, darkening 80ʼs punk scene. Tired of the jiggery pokery of their manager Falcon Stuart, and disagreements about their future direction, Poly left the band in 1979, and though a new line up struggled on for a few months, without their leading light and creative inspiration, the Spex were doomed. After leaving the Spex, Poly went on to produce her own music, and to join the International Society for Krishna Consciousness - rumour has it sheʼs there, somewhere in the backing vocals of Boy Georgeʼs Krishna kitsch flop ʻBow Down Misterʼ - to which she and her husband still belong. The band briefly reformed in ʻ95 to produce a new LP, ʻConscious Consumerʼ (in an eerie quirk of fate, touring and promotion of the album had to end when Poly was dragged under a fire engine in central London). It wasnʼt the same. Like ʻThe Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardustʼ, or Bjorkʼs ʻDebutʼ, ʻGerm Free Adolescentsʼ is hooked in time and space, a memory of a moment of vibrant creative anarchy that has long since disappeared.

Itʼs 1978, and the crowd at CBGBʼs are belligerent, perhaps

expecting Malcolm McLarenʼs media demon juggernaut ʻThe Sex Pistols,ʼ to fire off a trade mark drunken set. Polyʼs on stage in a leather apron. Sheʼs curled her hair in 50ʼs schoolgirl ringlets, pinned a couple of dominoes to her lapel, and hung a golliwog doll around her neck. Into the decades chaos, over the puking and fighting and fucking, she yells out “Some people think little girls should be seen and not heard, but I think…” And thereʼs a pause, the crowd pull in closer - sure Siouxsie and the Banshees play here all the time, but a front-woman is still a novelty - and Poly yells again, “Oh Bondage, Up yours! One, two three, four,” and the Spex break into their furious sax driven hit. The place goes wild. For a moment it seems the kids are listening. It seems like somewhere in the nihilism and self destruction of late 70ʼs punk, thereʼs room for a little black girl from Brixton with something important to say. Poly flaps her arms and bounces around the stage, hot and hip despite herself, leans into the mic “Chain-store chain-smoke / I consume you all / Chain-gang chainmail / I donʼt think at all.” Stop, freeze frame. Hold her steady now.

There she is up above, mid-verse, iconic in black and white, twenty one forever.

Gareth Stack

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:21

Page 14

Backtracks ROLLERCOASTERS AND TINY CITIES Craig Thorn, Mark Kozelek, and the Red House Painters

Nick Johnson If youʼre browsing a music shop, or for that matter a music magazine, it doesnʼt take long to learn the first law of art: the world is full to the brim with failed geniuses. The right combination of talent and drive is rare enough. But with mass media, the talent doesnʼt matter much anymore; whether youʼre hawking “pop” albums or reviewing “indie” albums, itʼs often the image, not the music, that is being sold. This brings us to the second law of art: the world is equally full of the successfully talentless. The amount of pure luck and coincidence involved in commercial success makes it virtually impossible to predict, much less understand.

The musical situation thus becomes painful for everyone involved. Record companies turn down the best albums, because theyʼre too risky. Reviewers, DJs, and the dwindling owners of great record shops exhaust themselves looking for something obscure enough to seem cool, but good enough to justify. Consumers of music — people who want to experience perhaps 60 minutes of timeless human joy on which no price can be placed, other than €18.99 at HMV — are lost in the supermarket. We are told to buy an album because itʼs played at Starbucks, or because the single opens that TV show that we like, or because the magazine owned by the conglomerate that recorded, marketed, and distributed it thinks itʼs a masterpiece.

This is why we have friends. In an offhand remark in the acknowledgments of his book Mystery Train — a book good enough to read the acknowledgments — Greil Marcus wrote this line: “As much as anything, rock ʻnʼ roll has been the best means to friendship that I know.” I always misremember this line as stating something like the equation “music = friendship.” While Marcus doesnʼt quite say this, I feel I should attribute the idea to him. Friendship might indeed arise from sharing the music, but in my life it often led me to the music in the first place.

I met Craig Thorn eleven years ago this autumn, when

66

I moved to Boston from Texas to attend boarding school. He ran my dormitory, where he made epic barbecue and brilliant jokes, as well as the English department, where he taught a class on junk (of all kinds) in American literature. Our first conversation was about music; this was how he learned about each of the 38 guys to whom he had to be a father each year.

In that conversation, I revealed my interest in an English band called Catherine Wheel, one of the great underrated rock combos of the nineties. If this earned me a modicum of his respect, the ensuing dialogue earned Craig my undying admiration, tinged with a kind of terror; he promptly named five other more obscure (but technically related) bands that I might enjoy if I liked Catherine Wheel. Basically, he was Pandora, in the days before the internet.

Craigʼs boundless musical knowledge and record collection were intimidating to encounter for the first time, but I quickly realized that they were made to share. He ran a student magazine — Backtracks — in which he wrote lengthy, almost philosophical music criticism; he was a manager and legendary DJ for the school radio station. It was impossible to meet him and not find your horizons expanded. While this might have started with something as simple as borrowing a CD, the real horizons in question were not musical, but human. More than simply a means to friendship, music held the possibility for Craig of an encounter with the whole world, a catalogue of experience wider than his own. Music was a means to, and a definition of, family and community. Both were his reason for living.

Such a man does not have a favourite band. Nonetheless, in the late nineties, Craig was a missionary of the Red House Painters. He wrote about them, it seemed, at every possible opportunity, in school publications as well as major magazines. I have none of these articles anymore, but I remember a blizzard of eloquence that convinced me to knock on his door one day and borrow everything they had ever recorded. I saw Songs for a Blue Guitar on sale in 1998 in Chicago, at a record store that no longer exists, and bought it immediately. Gradually I collected every disc, somewhat because I liked the music,

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:21

Page 15

but mainly because of Craig.

The Red House Painters formed in 1989, the same year that the Pixies came to take the kids. They made a decadeʼs worth of albums in San Francisco, after which the lead singer and driving force, Mark Kozelek, went amicably solo. Their quiet and introspective music was never quite in step with the times, which were more defined by loud introspection; the poor reviews said that the Red House Painters were about despair, while the good ones said they were about nostalgia. Success on a massive commercial scale eluded them, partly because Mark Kozelek is that kind of genius who finds self-promotion painful, and partly because he insisted on making the music that was necessary for him. If others see him as a failed genius, it is not how Kozelek sees himself; on the contrary, his album was in stores when he was 25, and he felt like a rock star. In 1999 a two disc Retrospective was released; regardless of sales, this doesnʼt happen to just anyone.

The first label to press a Red House Painters album was the formidable 4AD, which released Down Colorful Hill (1992) on the strength of some reverb-soaked demo tapes. It was followed with two self-titled albums, better known by their brooding cover images, Rollercoaster (May 1993) and Bridge (October 1993). The stunning Ocean Beach was released in 1995, and then abruptly — in the face of a small but obsessive fan base, excellent critical reception, and growing popularity in Europe — the label opted not to release Songs for a Blue Guitar, and dropped the band.

For those DJs, reviewers, buyers, and label owners who are prospecting for gold, itʼs usually a pretty good sign when a label drops a band over an album. As Robbie Robertson said of The Band, “Music should never be harmless.” A fight over a recording signals that something actually different has just appeared, and that someone in power is scared; Wilcoʼs Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is a classic example, but the final two Red House Painters albums each did time in legal purgatory. Supreme Records, an Island subsidiary, snapped up

Songs for a Blue Guitar and released it in 1996; the follow-up Old Ramon was scheduled for 1998, but was withheld by Island during the merger wars of the late 1990s, and wasnʼt released until 2001 on SubPop, after Kozelek bought it back.

These struggles also ended the band, and the next four releases were of Kozelek playing alone.

Songs for a Blue Guitar was the first true synthesis of Kozelekʼs many influences and moods. The opener seems to fit the pattern of the back catalogue, with a singer-songwriter formula and emotive, autobiographical lyrics. The second song, one of two title songs, is the same but different, featuring the only female backing vocal in the whole Kozelek discography. Nothing in that discography could possibly prepare you for the third song, “Make Like Paper,” which is rumoured to be one of the two songs on the disc which ended the relationship with 4AD. It is 12 minutes of fierce backbeat and Crazy Horse guitar distortion. It features a 5 minute guitar solo after the first chorus, a solo so rich and daring it suggests Hendrix, Robert Johnson, and Mahler. After the Gibson screams and is possibly in flames, Kozelek goes on singing as though nothing out of the ordinary has just occurred. It is out of the ordinary on a folk label. It might as well be hip-hop.

This is one of many moments on the album that explodes preconceptions. There are covers of songs by Yes (“Long Distance Runaround”), the Cars (“All Mixed Up”) and Paul McCartney (“Silly Love Songs”). An aptly titled, trifling piece of work, this last piece is totally resurrected in the retelling; this time, the five-minute display of absurd guitar virtuosity is at the beginning of the song. The expressive rage and unadulterated beauty offered here properly earns the opening line, “youʼd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs,” and when we hear the chorus that McCartney made insipid — “I love you” — we actually believe the Red House Painters. Mark Kozelek brings real artistry to his covers; his solo album from 2001, Whatʼs Next to the Moon, consists entirely of Bon Scott-era AC/DC songs, which are tender and unrecognizable, and his most recent project with Sun

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:21

Page 16

Kil Moon — a kind of Red House Painters 2.0 — is the album Tiny Cities, composed of twelve Modest Mouse songs transposed into Kozelekʼs reflective and minimalist style. As these seemingly insane career moves suggest, Mark Kozelek is remarkably adept at avoiding irony, even when singing songs that seem to need them. On Old Ramon, he pulls off a love song to his cat.

In 2003, Kozelek and his drummer Anthony Koutsos reformed as Sun Kil Moon, releasing first Ghosts of the Great Highway and then Tiny Cities in 2005. Ghosts continues the best traditions of the Red House Painters, but with the illusion of a new band; it was Kozelekʼs most successful album to date, if someone is counting by sales. It is a lush and unified album, telling stories about famous boxers who died young; obsessed with death, the album celebrates life. The old fascinations with memory and geography are firmly in place, but the singer has become a bard, and moved well beyond simple autobiography and despair. This is no more failed genius by any measure; this is a man doing what he loves as though it were second nature.

Sun Kil Moon sounds for all the world like Kozelek has “grown up.” Somewhere between the first time I heard them and now, as Iʼve moved around the world carrying the albums with me, so have I. Kozelekʼs joys, sorrows, landscapes, and women have accompanied me. As always happens with great music, the sounds and words are now bound up with my own memories. Iʼve done my best to pass this music on to friends so that they can carry this reflection of the world, and perhaps a piece of me. Iʼve tried to make friends with the music, and music with the friends.

I also continue to listen to Kozelekʼs work to carry a piece of Craig, who passed on down the great highway on 12 June 2006, at the age of 47. He left behind such a cacophonous legacy of sounds in the hands and minds of those who knew him that it hardly would be accurate to say that he is gone. The lives of those that knew him — and their CD collections — are the Retrospective that confirms his place. In his case, music finally did become the friendship, since the music is all I can encounter down the old pathways where he was.

Even though the song is not about him, I have never listened to “Make Like Paper” without thinking of the first autumn that I met Craig, or the last summer that I saw him.

Leaves are turning brown All over the ground Leaves make like paper Make like paper sound

[5-minute guitar solo]

Way back, back then I considered you my best friend But the last time I saw you I knew Iʼd never see you again.

68

Chinatown, San Francisco Photos: Nick Johnson

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:22

Page 17

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:22

Page 18

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:22

Page 19

Analogue_Section5(pg54-72):Layout 1

25/09/2007

20:22

Page 20