Month: November 2013

Recently I have given cause for my fellow contributors to start to get quite nervous that their DRC blog is rapidly turning in to some kind of Agony Aunt/Self Help page. I probably did not help with my introduction to this album when outlining that inevitably a personal crisis has some kind playlist which develops as time goes past. As they reached for their Kleenex, they seemed somewhat surprised that this popped out.

Rage is a dangerous emotion and needs to be channelled appropriately. For me, no album has done it better recently, and on odd occasions in the past, better than this. Yes, there is far more aggressive and abrasive stuff out there, but this has the bonus that it has rage you can sing along to at times, in addition to the mash outs.

PJ are an odd bunch and much of their behaviour has led to people believing their worthiness and sincerity has led to them taking themselves far too seriously and on occasion coming close to disappearing up their own proverbial. Yes they were in the shadow of Nirvana, but who wasn’t and I never imagined that they were trying to do the same thing.

The follow up to their debut Ten, Vs feels more honest with less pressure or possible rejection of need for radio friendly hits. The most ‘anthemic’ track, Leash, is littered with the profanities which immediately prevent mainstream radio broadcast. Go, Animal and Blood are all there as a helpful alternative to throwing furniture around the room, while Dissident and Daughter are there for the wind down afterwards.

I stayed with PJ for another 2 albums and felt that was enough as they were good at what they did, but had done enough for me.

In “agony uncle” corner next round, we will be focussing on your DIY problems as we have now moved on from previous personal issues causing disruption to normal service….

Rob listened (and also noticed, true story, that a picture of the late and much missed Claire Rayner seems to have appeared in our Media Library – Graham?):

No. No, no, no. I haven’t come all this way to suddenly start liking Pearl Jam. However, hearing this gave a good, an ultimately entertaining, opportunity to discuss why Pearl Jam were different from those other bands, in ways we each either applauded or decried.

I guess I never liked straight down the line rock music, however well it might be played, or with whatever level of conviction. Also, at the time Pearl Jam were hocking their wares, I was sufficiently unencumbered by self-doubt or wider perspective to consider them sell-out motherfuckers. They may or may not have been, but even 20 years later, they still sound a hell of a lot like a lot of bands that were.

Tom Listened: Two record clubs meetings ago Graham introduced The Pleasure Principle by Gary Numan and in so doing stated that I would hate it. This comment missed its mark by a country mile and I was bamboozled as to why Graham would have thought this (especially as I had brought John Maus to record club on a previous occasion – surely a pretty direct descendent of Mr Numan’s).

Well, Graham repeated the trick with Vs…and this time he was spot on! Sorry, Eddy and all you other Pearl Jam boys, but there is something about the sound you make that is deeply unpleasant to my ears and if I ever work out what it is (which will probably be, like, never…as I have no intention of ever listening to one of your albums again) I’ll let you know.

Nick listened: This album is totally conflated in my head with Ten, Pearl Jam’s debut; both of them got absolutely played to death by my friends when we were teenagers, and I don’t really know where one ends and the other begins. I never actually owned either myself, though I did own a Pearl Jam t-shirt. As such I have no idea whether I like this or not; I’ve internalised a huge amount of it simply via osmosis through repeated exposure, and familiarity and reminiscence ca easily be confused with affection and appreciation. That said, I have none of the issues that Tom and Rob seem to with this; Pearl Jam are very obviously ‘a good rock band’, I’m just not that bothered by rock music for the most part these days. I own a couple of their mid-period albums – No Code and Yield – but seldom play them, although “Given To Fly” used to get on a LOT of mixtapes / minidiscs / playlists [delete as appropriate]. Why is it OK to like Nirvana but not this? I’d just be projecting pseudo cultural studies ideology if I tried to answer that. It’s probably something to do with guitar solos.

Purchasing and consuming music is a funny business. Every time we turn on the radio, reach for an album on the shelf or go into a record shop, we are faced with a myriad choices that we almost immediately sift through, usually coming to a remarkably rapid decision.  For me, when acquiring new music the rapidity of the decision hinges on three things – knowledge, ignorance and assumption. Direct knowledge is the quickest method – I know the album, or artist and am able to make a decision based on what I already know. It’s also, for me, the most boring approach to acquiring music and has often led to my most disappointing purchases. Hence my avoidance of Spotify. Too much knowledge dulls the initial thrill I feel as the needle inexorably spirals towards the first notes of album I have never heard before. But a little knowledge heightens the anticipation and so I usually read and listen to other’s points of view prior to looking for new music. If I am entirely ignorant, I will usually dismiss the album without a second thought. But often I make assumptions about a record or an artist or even an entire genre that has meant that numerous wonderful records have passed me by for many years before I have eventually given them a proper chance – The Smiths, Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello, Steve McQueen by Prefab Sprout to name but a few.

I have always loved the great soul singles of the late sixties and early seventies – O’Jays, Aretha, Isley Brothers, Marvin Gaye – but I always assumed that (with the exception of Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye) their albums would be full of lesser fare bar a few jewels, that had invariably become ubiquitous as singles anyway. So I pretty much avoided the genre because I have always wanted to own albums rather than compilations and I always thought that these albums would ultimately be disappointing due to the amount of second rate filler they would inevitably contain. But then Nick played Isaac Hayes’ Hot Buttered Soul at record club. The consistently high quality of the music throughout that album made me reassess and, almost straight away, I was browsing sections of the record shop that I wouldn’t normally have considered going to. Soon I was excitedly clutching a copy of Al Green’s magnificent fifth album, rushing home whilst wondering what delights my needle would unearth once it began to work its magic.

Needless to say, I’m Still In Love With You is wonderful throughout – from the astonishing vocal gymnastics of the opening title track, through to the astonishing vocal gymnastics of the final track, One of These Good Old Days (featuring the legendary lyrics – ‘George Mitchell’s Minstrels, Elvis Presley, George Mitchell’s Minstrels, South Pacific, Elvis Presley, George Mitchell’s Minstrels, South Pacific’ etc etc ad infinitum….oh no, my mistake, that was Nick ‘researching’ his choice for the next meeting over the top of the last quarter of the record!). I find that when listened to in a room where ‘research’ is not being conducted, I’m Still In Love With You sounds even better!

But between start and finish Al Green traverses nine tracks of impeccable quality from the smouldering Love and Happiness, through the claustrophobic Simply Beautiful and his forlorn and yearning cover of Kris Kristofferson’s For The Good Times. Although some tracks stand out more than others, there really aren’t any duffers – a true ***** album in my book and a great first chapter on my journey into the treasure trove of 20th century soul music.

Rob listened: It seems sensible to accept that taste has to be subjective. Equally, there are some things which it seems sensible for us all to agree are undeniably fantastic. Here’s one of them. Listen to Al Green spin his voice out like a filament of blown glass and if you’re not ready to lie down and weep at the sheer beauty of the sound (or hey! stand up and cheer if you prefer! i’m open to new approaches), you’re from another planet.

Nick listened: I’m an asshole for shouting over this, even if it was educational shouting. Al Green is great; I only have a ‘best of’ rather than any studio albums. What I already knew of this was still magnificent, what I didn’t know already was very good on first exposure. His voice is like honey and gossamer at the same time. There’s not a lot else to say; it’s just a pleasure to listen to.

Graham listened: While most of the time his voice has healing powers, now and again I’m not totally overwhelmed. Booking my flight to Mars.

1977 was my lucky dip year for this  round’s theme. After exhausting and exhaustingly turning boxes of records and cd’s upside down looking for all the albums I thought were from 1977, I finally discovered that I only owned one from that year. Luckily for everyone, it was one worth listening to.

For a good part of my adolescence I parked Fleetwood Mac with the Beatles and the Beach Boys in the dullest parts of the Radio 2 playlists which played in the kitchen and the car. I reckon ‘Albatross’ must have got played at least twice a day during the Jimmy Young and Terry Wogan era’s at the helm.

I never thought of the band much until the end of the 90’s when I started to read about the history and mythology behind the band and particularly, the making of this album. By then tracks like ‘Go your own way’ and ‘Don’t Stop’ had started entering my subconscious. Finally buying and listening to the album was a revelation.

I think I used the word “craft” a lot when I introduced this on the night. There is just something about the way the vocals and instrumentation on this album are so perfectly put together, without sounding as if they have been slaved over, that makes it work so well. The subtle use of drums and percussion when you might not expect it, crashing guitars one minute to haunting and sparse the next.

The vocals drift from soaring sing-along’s to intimate stories of the complex relationships (and even if you don’t listen to the album you should read up on those) members of the band were involved in. The fact that some of those relationships are then openly exposed on the album makes it even crazier that something so well ‘crafted’ (there it is again) could be produced. Sex and drugs can sometimes produce a rock’n’roll masterpiece, and I would venture that this is one.

Strangely, I have never felt the need to go back any further with the band, settling with their next album, ‘Tusk’, as the end of the journey. ‘Tusk’ has moments of masterpiece but too many moments of madness/self indulgence that point to abuse of substances and disintegration of some of the creative madness that inspired ‘Rumours’.

Oh and just in case readers thinks I’m letting my current situation influence album selections around complex romantic themes, its a good time to recite my daily mantra, “I f*****g hate Coldplay!”

Rob listened: I’m forced to reflect that of the four albums played this evening, the only one I didn’t know well was this, the 14th best selling album in UK history, and 6th in the US. Having finally heard ‘Rumours’ through for the first time, i’m pretty happy with that situation. I’ve warmed to the pre-punk 1970s a huge amount over the last couple of years, and Devon Record Club has been a huge influence in that regard. I watched the Fleetwood Mac documentary on BBC Four recently, and found it fascinating. I was ready to be converted but ‘Rumours’ just didn’t do it for me at all. Some great tunes, and vocal hooks particularly, but it’s just too smooth for my rough palate. There’s no edge for me to get a grip of and those hooks just don’t stick in me.  Perhaps it deserves a closer listening. I’m sure it does. But i’m not sure that’s something i’ll bother with.

Tom Listened: For me, Fleetwood Mac belong in the same company as Madness, The Cure and Abba – capable of producing unimpeachable pop music, seemingly at will but, somewhat bafflingly, never quite managing to sustain their brilliance over the course of an entire album. All that cocaine must have blurred their judgment…after all Tusk has more than enough incredible songs on it to be a brilliant single album but whoever thought Sisters Of The Moon or That’s Alright With Me were a good idea? Talk about snatching defeat from the jaws of victory!

Anyway, Rumours was always my least favourite of the big three – for me it lacks Tusk’s wonky personality (I’ve always been drawn to wonky personalities, hence the company I keep at record club) and the eponymous album has Rhiannon on it, so that’s always going to be better! But Rumours does have a clutch of all time classic songs, mainly the singles and whilst the rest of the album is a little too smooth and fluffy for my tastes it isn’t hard to see why this is such a behemoth in the rock ‘n’ roll canon. It was good to hear it (crackles and all) again.

Nick listened: There’s a literal list of albums on my phone – mostly recent stuff – to look out for and buy if the chance arises. There’s a theoretical list in my head – much, much longer – of other stuff that I’m interest in or feel I should own but never got round to. This was at the top of the latter list for years. I must’ve picked copies up a hundred times in record shops but never got to the till. It infuriated my wife. After Graham played it, I bought it. For £5. It’s great. I already knew 80% of it. The other 20% might be less great but it doesn’t really matter. These songs feel like platonic essences.

Over the course of the last decade, Bill Callahan has slowly but surely worked his way right up to the very top of my skewed American indie singer songwriter pile (a pile that is actually more populated than one might think). As each subsequent Bill Callahan or Smog release has slow-burned its way into my affection, my love for Mr Callahan’s oeuvre has deepened. Since the recent release of Dream River, that despite being a fine enough LP hasn’t yet clicked with me in the way that the previous album Apocalypse did, my obsessions have deviated to three of Bill’s earlier Smog releases – the subtly great latter day Smog album, Supper, the amusingly titled and particularly varied and sprawling Dongs of Sevotion and, possibly greatest of all, 1999’s imperious Knock Knock, an album that is as close to perfection as a skewed American singer songwriter can get. So whilst I was less than enamoured upon pulling out 1999 and 1992 from the hat of delight/doom – 1999 being previously plundered for one of Nick’s themes, 1992 being a fallow year for me due to doing the ‘finding oneself’ thing in Australia at the time – I became increasingly happy with my choice of album over the course of the fortnight leading up to record club night as each subsequent play revealed a little more depth, warmth and beauty to a record that I already regarded as one of the best.

But just what it is that makes Knock Knock so great is hard to pin down (as I am about to demonstrate). On paper Knock Knock sounds less than edifying. Four electric guitar tracks that chug along nicely but where not a lot happens – Held, No Dancing, Cold Blooded Old Times and Hit The Ground Running. Five acoustic tracks where even less happens, ending in the barely there Left Only With Love..and the opening (vaguely) Laurie Andersonesque Let’s Move to The Country, in which nothing much happens in a slightly more off-kilter way. So to conclude…unless you’re a fan of William Basinski, in which case the album is all over the place…not a lot happens! But this album’s all about subtlety, nuance, wit and poise. A study in the ‘less is more’ approach to music making. Whilst the aforementioned electric tracks provide the hooks it’s the quieter tracks that offer the breathtakingly beautiful moments that come along every so often in the Bill Callahan discography. River Guard, Sweet Treat, I Could Drive Forever and, to cap it all, the exquisite Teenage Spaceship repay rapt attention and a quiet room; initially they were the tracks I was least interested in. Now, I listen in spellbound attention as they meander through their (lack of) paces marvelling at Callahan’s ability to say so much through so little, both musically and lyrically.

For those of you who only know Bill Callahan through his later self-titled work, Knock Knock may seem a spartan and more left-field affair than they are used to. Callahan has become such a refined and sophisticated writer in recent times that the rawer earlier Smog work can seem like the work of a different artist altogether. But the difference would be made even more stark for anyone who chanced upon Smog in their very early days (when they made Guided By Voices seem positively Hi-Fi) and had then given up on them. Because by Knock Knock, Callahan had worked out his strengths (and, importantly teamed up with US indie superman Jim O’Rourke) and was well on the way to documenting what has gone on to become one of the most vital, vibrant and astonishing chapters in the great American songbook. And within that chapter, Knock Knock more than holds its own as one of the great skewed indie American song writer albums!

Rob listened: I share Tom’s reverence for Bill Callahan. He’s one of the few songwriters who can bring forth pure joy just by doing what he’s doing and doing it so very well. I realise i’m terrible at getting to the root of what makes any artist or record any good, but my take on Callahan is that his deep, resonant voice and his deliberate, deceptively simple approach to writing (how few words has ‘Teenage Spaceship’ and how much redolence of adolescent isolation) tell of self-confidence and inspire a feeling of safety. ‘Yes’, we think, ‘this guy really DOES know what he’s doing’. And we put our trust in him. I spend a lot of time listening to his records (‘Apocalypse’ and ‘Sometime I Wish…’ may be my most reached for records of the last two years) but I don’t spend too much time parsing them. Even after all these years, they are unfolding like gentle mysteries. I feel like we’re growing old together, and I really like that. At this stage I can’t imagine what a Callahan mis-step could possibly sound like. And it’s nice to have someone you can depend upon.

Graham listened: Not often I lie in a bath of warm chocolate, but if I did, I would probably add this to the accompanying playlist. I was really intrigued by its subtlety and although not a huge amount going on, it just washed over nicely. It fitted so well on a night where we indulge in a fair amount of bombastic sounds. Off to see how much Dairy Milk it takes to fill a bath.

Nick listened: I’ve only listened to post-Smog Smog, when Callahan has used his own name, but I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve heard, some of it very, very much. This too; unsurprisingly – it’s the same guy, and produced by Jim O’Rourke, who I really like. “Teenage Spaceship” was especially lovely. This has replaced Rumours on the theoretical list of albums to buy in my head. It sits just below 20 Jazz Funk Greats by Throbbing Gristle.