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discogs · 5 years

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as good of a song as ‘country house’ can be, it really is just a horrifying representatio of how over processed & self defeating blur had already become. & a sign of the end times for britpop. that was still @ the height of their fame, that very single is the one that they ‘won’ the chart war with. they won the battle but ultimately lost the war, when “ ( what’s the story ? ) “ came out it was evident that oasis were the victors. i mean, when over 4% of your country’s population applies for tickets to see your “rival” band you must realise you have lost. knebworth park boasted a staggering 25,000 in attendance for a band with two albums out over the course of two days. 2.5mi people applied for tickets. that isn’t just fame, that’s history.

blur have always been a very quirky band, with a bouncy sound & weird almost talking heads-like touches to their songs that are just outtuv place enough to pull the whole track together, but ‘country house’ is just a terrible coagulation of everything that made blur, blur. to the point where you can tell there’s nothing genuine in it.

damon has always said that he regrets ‘the great escape,’ i don’t blame him for it. not even bcos it’s a bad album - it genuinely isn’t - but bcos it effectively betrayed the band’s place as an out of ordinary band that happened to become the divas of the britpop era. blur was a unique act that had been given the fame they deserved, but in this they also proved how fickle, horrible, & uncomfortable fame could be. the band virtually self destructed right after this, too ! i mean, tons of britpop did. ( what the fuck even is ‘be here now ?’ )

the total collapse of blur as a band due to their massive fame really posed some interesting questions regarding underground music’s place as underground music. do these unsung underground heroes belong in the limelight ? can the type of people who make this music really be in the same ball park of fame as someone like kylie minogue & cope with it ? or are they in their positions for a reason ?

britpop was a very unique movement unlike any before it. it was a case of a musical utopia where what’s good becomes popular came to fruition, but only for a very brief moment before it was all suddenly gone. the weirdos of the world who didn’t want to be chained to modern, dull life escaped via music & actually were given the time of day for it. there’s a reason why it took pulp so long to get popular, bcos they could have never done it in any other period but there & then. pulp could not have emassed fame anywhere else but there in the 1990s. bcos that was the time for the weirdos.

‘mis-shapes’ by pulp really is the accurate anthem for this era. the underdogs are at the wheel, revenge is sweet – we’re on top now.

but it all went away so quickly, every brilliant band which held the fame released dull, overinflated, or just not very good albums immediately after their huge records. ( blur with their self titled & oasis with ‘be here now’ ) this or they waited too long & no one cared anymore ( pulp with ‘we love life’ ) or both ( suede with ‘headmusic’ ).

the last great britpop album, to me @least, is the verve’s ‘urban hymns,’ which was a marvellous funeral parade for the glorious britpop era. richard ashcroft gave us the absolute best that britpop had to offer as a means of signaling farewell to the triumphant era, then we all waved bye-bye & let robbie williams take over. the end.

of course these bands released excellent records after all the rage, but it just wasn’t the same. they will always be respected & they will always be famous icons, but the success of tracks like ‘the importance of being idle’ definitely don’t feel like groundbreaking or sensational moves. the hype of it as a movement or wave wasn’t there anymore, the scene had died.

i think the most evident part of ‘country house’ that signals that this had all somehow gone horribly wrong is the lyric: “he’s got morning glory & thats a different story.” a cheap, unfunny, not clever jab at their fake rivals. an admission of loosing the plot to the ferocity of sensationalism & fame. since when did damon ever really give a shit about the stupid rivalry ? never. but for some reason, in the heat of the moment of being a commodity, he buckles & makes a petty comment in his number one single about the band he’s been pit against. how low. how dirge.

#rants #always about britpop

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discogs · 5 years

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iv never stopped thinking about brett anderson with ‘do you believe in love there ?’ written down his spine. i think about it & i get chills. i just can’t handle it oh my god

#rants

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discogs · 5 years

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i don’t think “modern life is rubbish” translates to “things were better in the past.” i think the majority of blur’s musings on modern life had less to do with nostalgia for the past & more to do with frustration that society collectively buckles to it’s own creations & will always fall victim to its own advertising.

i think it’s a lot more about us not viewing ourselves in a critical eye based off of our own opinions but instead through the lenses of adverts. i think that this new breed of cooperations using social media to emulate millennial speech patterns & cultivate a human personality around their brand is a really blur concept in that it’s something damon would have noticed & wrote about.

#rants

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discogs · 5 years

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i don’t know, my man, i mean that could be the case since david did fill his songs with alottuv references in this time period but that last verse, to me, expressed the following:

you get up & sleep: the waking world holds nothing of worth to the narrator & he is ultimately disinterested in participating, this calls back to the verse about ‘hobble over any freeway / you will be like your dreams tonight’ living is heavy & uncompelling, you awake & are on autopilot.

the wind blows on your cheek: david was still struggling with overcoming his drug addiction & this could probably be a reference to the sensitivity of one’s senses while experiencing withdrawal it ties in with the next line well …

the day laughs in your face: in addition to your sensitivity, every hour mocks you & your place in living is cruel. it feels like the concept of time itself laughs at your efforts.

guess you’ll buy a gun / you’ll buy it secondhand: the only solution to this pain & struggle is self extinction, this is a heavy & obvious allusion to suicide. coupled with the previous lines expressing the complications of being alive, it makes sense that they would be followed by a suggestion of giving up.

the addition of ‘guess’ also suggests an apathy towards it all, which makes sense following the theme of numbness in the album before ‘low.’

the repetition of ‘being like your dreams’ could also signal a plan to ’get up & sleep’ for the last time. if the waking world is treated like a dream, & your edging towards the temptation of death anyways, ‘being like your dreams tonight’ could indicate a plan to end one’s life.

anyways it’s about suicide.

#song interpretations

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discogs · 5 years

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‘end of the century’ by blur is one of those songs that just really bothers me on a deep level bcos is summarises everything i feel in a neat little way, but it reminds me horrifyingly that this monotony of culture was always going to happen. in the 90s it was the formidable threat of the future, traces of this nothingness were beginning to show themselves & artists like damon or liam or any of them, really, tried so hard to say something about it or push against the inevitable. but it happened anyways. & we’re still here, & we can’t afford to live, we can’t live to dream, & nothing will ever change. we’re stuck in what we were warned against. once more, there is very little left to live for if anything at all.

#rants

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discogs · 6 years

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the permanent shivers down your spine,

a look at an underrated classic.

There is no right configuration of words that can express the weight of a song like ‘Shivers,’ although I set out to persuade you into believing this is a masterpiece I really cannot do such a thing if you do not believe from the first few seconds that it is. If it does not create a dwelling within you upon its start, this may prove a fruitless venture. At the risk of sounding exclusionary, some art is made to matter only to a set few. It is because of this that I will not try to force your head under water to understand how it feels to drown. All I can do is paint you a picture of the bottom of the ocean to explain the way the current feels.

Shivers, in short, is a approximation of everything one should aspire to conquer in an artistic career. The biggest horror of humankind is to be forgotten. The thought which wracks at the collective soul of mankind is to be a stranger to the history books, the common goal of creators and the everyday man alike is to be eternal. Every name which leaves our lips in a list of legends is a name which carries with it some kind of resounding cultural wealth. Every song you hear repeatedly on the radio leaves something within you every time it is played, no matter the love or hate you may feel for it, you will remember it, and you will continue to hear it. These songs, often albatrosses to the musicians associated with it, stab their flag into the world to shine for the rest of time. This is the common denominator in all of history. A need to be remembered. It’s at this point that you’re probably realising you have either never heard this song or at least hadn’t heard it until you were much older than you were when you first became aware of music. The specific memory of this song is lost to most, but to me what matters is not the the song itself as a singular entity, but instead its power as an encapsulating phenomena. It is the wide plains within the song, the feelings this song conjures up that are universal and eternal to the human condition.

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Shockingly, the song’s origins do not lie in the winding milky way, orchestrated by some celestial fiend looking to stir the whole of the earth. Instead it has its roots inside a sixteen year old’s harsh cynicism, remarking one day in 1977 that the infatuation of teenage love is beyond childish. The chronically sarcastic Rowland S. Howard was then fronting Melbourne band The Young Charlatans with fellow bandmate, Ollie Olsen. I would be remiss to imply that Howard was unaware of his destiny to become a towering figure in rock, it is evident in early video recordings seen in the 2011 documentary, Autoluminescent that Howard has always carried himself with the unmistakable power of an established rock’n’roll star. This trait carries on into the original 1978 recording of “Shivers” with the Young Charlatans where Howard scowls over rough instrumentals about a ‘love’ which sees none other than herself, making hollow statements about the fragility of his heart and the poker face he holds to mask the non-substantial pain he feels for the woman at hand. In this version we can clearly make out the jaded tone of the song and understand it more as a vision of dead, perhaps never lifeless desire, mistaken as heartbreak by an idle teenager. This idea is resoundingly lost in the more popularised version of the song, recorded just a year later with bad-seed-to-be Nick Cave on lead vocals, backed by another Melbourne band which Howard joined forces with just a few months after the original recording of ‘Shivers.’

Despite the sarcastic intent by the ghostly Howard, the version recorded by the Boys Next Door in 1979 has cast a romantic shadow over the work. The blasé attitude of the first cut is thrown aside entirely for a more genuine, harrowing ballad echoing the likes of Roxy Music. The song created here is one of true heartbreak and disbelief with the cruelty of humanity’s heart. The track is introduced by a stinging guitar and tumbling drums, expanding a wide open space within your mind shrouded in cigarette smoke from which arises the devastated Cave, who’s shaking vocals shoot a hole straight through your rib cage leaving you fatally wounded. This is a boy torn to pieces by vicious indifference, shot down from Cupid’s grasps by the worst feeling known to his teenage heart: unrequited love. Cave’s dominating voice are rivaled only by the staggering presence of Howard’s signature weeping guitar, piercing the lush, heavy song with razor blade precision, as is custom for Howard’s style - which seems to aim to kill more than it aims to please. There is no better adversary to Cave’s crooning than Howard’s sting, the two of which do not meet harmoniously until the chorus, which delivers a gutteral kick to the chest sending you spiraling through the darkest of emotions back to your most sorrowful nights. One cannot help but imagine a pouring champagne bottle hurtling through a dusty velvet clad and lonely lounge when embarking upon the expanse of this track. It solidifies for the listener a dark and terrorising thought of love into a barbed wire wrapped sacred heart bleeding crimson.

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Though the premise of the song is essentially warped, the ability to create an entirely new entity out of unchanged source material proves the unstoppable malleability of the lyrics themselves. The most remarkable thing about this song is it’s unbelievable capacity for interpretation, artists have twisted and turned the music and melodies of this song into innumerable different sensations, all having only one thing in common - the undeniable genius of the lyrical framework. Seldom ever are the words altered, they stay put like the metal frame of a skyscraper unable to move, it is simply the world around them which changes. The distinct adaptability of the track is what digs its nails into the field of unforgettable classics, for the best of things that we can make are those which can mean platitudes to hundreds of different people. It is this kaleidoscope of expression that renders it deserving of its place in music history, for there are very few things which can mean so much without ever changing, and continue to do so for every listener and artist who decide to take it on. I had mentioned the sheer scope of the song at the beginning of this article, touching upon the plains that rest within this track. Though one may find it useless to be remembered for something that your face is not directly associated with, I find the opposite far more poetic and substantial. What it is that Howard has managed to do here is to strip this monolith of an art piece from all it’s corporal ties, allowing it to become a free form, endlessly traveling thing which falls into the possession of a select few to be toyed with and thought of before escaping back into the ether to be discovered once more.

#LM #i rewrote it its better now it explains shit better thanks #please tell me this is good its the only good thing iv ever written

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discogs · 6 years

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Warning Signs That Your Life Has Become A Nick Cave Song

inspired by x

For quite some time now there has been a woman gesturing to you from across the streets to enter the shadowed forest behind her home, every night you lean in a bit closer to your window.

Often times when you look at your spouse, you find yourself thinking they’d look quite beautiful dead in a rose bush.

You have been ostracised from your family and in a blind rage have taken off into a strange new land where you are promptly confronted by unwelcoming townsfolk warning you of the mighty hand of God.

You don’t know if you believe in God, but you definitely believe in the devil, for he is outside your door as we speak.

Your girlfriend has left you because you’ve forgotten how to fuck, are ugly, and obnoxiously loud when drunk. Oh, and you wouldn’t stop comparing her to the lovely dying flowers outside your West Berlin flat and her friends were getting creeped out.

The bells that ring from the chapel are becoming increasingly loud in the shadow of your long time lover’s departure.

Multiple people have referred to you as “boy.”

Religious is seemingly the only genre of media you will consume.

Your name is Henry.

You are a long forgotten saint of the Catholic persuasion.

You are a long forgotten saint of the Catholic persuasion who, at the funeral, lunged from your coffin declaring with a booming voice like God’s; “The stink of human sin is more than I can bare.” who went on to live out the rest of their life as a folklore legend.

The sherrif of your town’s new wife looks so beautiful you could just rip her into tiny shreds. Literally. And you did.

You have commited murder.

You have comitted murder multiple times.

Your murder count is equivalent to that of a small nation’s population.

Your long lonely nights have made a mistress of your shadow.

No, really, you’re married to your own shadow. You have kids and everything.

But you killed your shadow.

Your name is Jack.

There are mermaids everywhere, in the ocean, in the sky, hanging upside down from lamp posts.

Though you believe in God, you get no special compensation for this belief.

You are someone with an oddly specific profession, in an oddly specific place, believing in God.

You’re filled with stories of religious martyrs and convicts of all kinds.

Your girlfriend broke up with you, or maybe you killed her.

Your girlfriend killed YOU.

The ghost of Johnny Cash has visited you many times.

Your name ends in ‘Lee.’

You’re a sideshow worker burying a dead horse.

You once knew a woman, a gorgeous woman who took you in and treated you well. You swear to the heavens that you loved her, she showed you happiness, which is why you had to kill her.

You once knew a woman, an enigmatic woman with long black hair who taught you well about the world you lived in. You believe you loved her, you must of, which is why you had to kill her.

You know a woman, she lives down the street from you and on stormy days you can catch a glimpse of her lily-white hands grazing the windowsil. She owns a cat you see often. You’re thinking that maybe you should pay her a visit.

On a whim one rainy day, you leave your home while ill to visit her down the street. Her hands are cold but her coffee hot, and as the fire burns beneath the mantel you think to yourself; ‘All beauty must die.’

You kill her.

#LM #lists #nick cave #another nick cave thing FRIENDS !

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discogs · 6 years

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bowie personalities + art movements

an unnecessary analysis of david bowie’s characters and the art movements i feel they would resonate and associated themselves with most.

sources: the art story, the independent, cracked actor, rolling stone (for interpretations, quotes, descriptions of personas)

Keep reading

#lm #i don't know HOW to tag this

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discogs · 6 years

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“3′s A Charm”: The Best and Worst of 2017

these lists, especially with the best, are based on my consideration of whether or not they are listenable and enjoyable to a wider audience outside ov myself. henceforth more experimental or underground bands such as xiu xiu and future islands are exempt from this ranking as they’re more of an acquired taste. this, however, does not mean i didn’t adore or loathe those albums, some of them are just too subjective or not worth expanding on.

Keep reading

#2017 #lm

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discogs · 7 years

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model of youth: the argument for shivers as a timeless classic

( outdated, has since been rewritten, please don’t read this - it is very bad. )

A timeless classic, as defined by someone who has no business defining it, is a song which can be sung over and over, recreated and expanded upon countless times, covered relentlessly, occasionally even rewritten, and never loose it’s charm. A song that sticks in the consciousness of the listener for days, weeks, months, even years after. A song which, when it comes on ages after your previous hearing of it, still shoots a bullet against your heart and fills your veins with an excitement similar to the first hearing.

Be it on a jukebox in a desolate diner at midnight, or a genius DJ spins it coincidentally while you’re at a retro night. This song is vicarious, it exists within all listeners without them even realising it. These songs become the anthems of many people’s youths, the rallying cry of the peaks of hundreds of lives, and on many an unfortunate circumstance they can also become reminders of the most miserable of moments and heartbreaks. Timeless classics follow you throughout your entire life and, generally speaking, they get twenty four seven radio play.

You find yourself mumbling along to songs like ‘Hotel California’ in the grocery line on an average Tuesday afternoon, and you think to yourself; “not this shit again.” And once more on the car ride home, and then again from your obnoxious neighbour some time in the middle of the night. What I’m saying is, these tracks are inescapable.

Yet one of the remaining mysteries of these songs, is what truly makes them ? What arrangement of chords, what series of notes, which mixture of syllables construct such an ageless song ? Must you be a relative of Christ ? Or a martyr ? Or a starving artist ? Or a Kerouac-like, perpetual escapist, constantly down-on-their-luck sporadic potential lunatic raving on the side of the road ? Or do must you be simply a fragile sixteen year old, on the edge of the rest of your life, glancing over a crowd of your peers with a shield of cynicism over your judgemental eye ?

There’s a connotation to the underdog superstar case that implies you rise against the muck and reach the heights of The Eagles and Queen in the array of singles known by millions. You scrape off your shabby exterior for a new, cover of Rolling Stone magazine look.

The closest thing to this phenomena I can think of is Nirvana's 1991 ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit,’ which effectively ruined the careers of hundreds of up and coming (and significantly better) acts, but nonetheless gave voice to America’s newfound league of self professed rejects. This track, the main hallmark of grunge, gave rise to an influx of copycats and remained as such forever. This song must play on every alternative radio station in the world at least three times a day, and it never leaves. À la the underground rises to the pop. Naturally, this is the way of not only bands like Nirvana and Queen, who have produced numerous hits, but also the way of many one hit wonders. Mainly hailing from the 1980s, bands like A Flock of Seagulls, Dexys Midnight Runners, and The Vapors find themselves being known only by one song. But these are songs they collect royalties on for ages to come. These one hit wonders still benefit, our narcotic expression of heartbreak and sarcasm, does not.

Unless you are an avid consumer of “obscure” of music or lived through it yourself, our subject is more than likely unknown to you. But I’m here to make the case for it, the case that it belongs not just in the ranks of these timeless classics, but far above them in a personal luminescent garland hung up by the edges of the stars which surround it. It is today we discuss Rowland S. Howard’s seminal and deathless 1976 masterpiece ‘Shivers.’

There are many songs worth boasting about and there are many songs that I have heard that have taken me aback growing up, having been raised on the likes of Bauhaus and the Damned I found myself in quite a stir of eclectic individuals. As a child I idolised Dave Vanian for his looks, Peter Murphy for his voice and theatrics, fell head over heels for Stiv Bators (though at the time I had no idea who he was), and by the age of ten was certain I’d heard it all. An arrogant thought to hold, I know, but we all think these things at some point in time in our lives.

I had only known of Nick Cave as a figure who I had been described to me as simultaneously on top of the world and beneath it as well. Although intrigued by the notion of living a dual life, I had no interest in delving into his career. At the time I was too transfixed by Jarvis Cocker to care for much else and was in a state of rejection towards anything that was considered to be “gothic rock” and had recognised “Release the Bats” as the anthem of the Batcave era. Needless to say, being raised by an original new waver and a death rocker, I didn’t care.

I wish I could describe to you an idyllic scenario, perhaps one in which I happened past a cracked window blasting the song, or a miraculous vinyl find, but my discovery of Rowland S. Howard was fairly typical. I had been lying in my father’s bed, staring up at the off grey ceiling and ignoring his musical choice until the distinct sound of a piano had caught my attention. Due to this instrument being an unusual occurrence in my father’s selection, I immediately ripped out my headphones to listen.

Now I must make an important distinction here. It was not the voice of Nick Cave that drew me in, nor was it really the instrumentation of the track, but the first lyric. “I’ve been contemplating suicide / But it really doesn’t suit my style.” I had propped myself up on my elbows, a smile spreading across my lips, and peered over my father’s shoulder at the computer screen displaying a pale man of puppet-like features forcing out lyrics he didn’t seem to gather. It was evident from the get go that this song was not nearly as emotional as it was being portrayed, and for this I adored it. I’d had enough of love songs, I practically adamantly rejected love songs with my every move. So this beautiful expression of sarcasm was right up my alley.

I had jumped to my feet, now standing directly behind my father who knowingly smiled up at me. My question of “Who did this?” was not answered adequately, as he responded simply with “Nick Cave.” I had taken another look at the singer, who looked like a Nick, and then took note of the name. “Boys Next Door, Shivers.”

This lyric stayed with me for weeks, eating me up like a parasite. It was all I needed to hear, and in such a ballroom manner as well. When I close my eyes and look past the iconic music video, I always envision a darkened high school gym during prom, couples awkwardly embracing each other for a slow dance they’ll regret immediately after. I was out for blood with this one, and made it my main directive to know about every aspect of it.

As I had assumed, the song was written by the guitar who was carrying the track (I say guitar as Howard and his Jaguar may as well be one being), the pale bird-like figure who was only shown briefly. With just a few searches, I’d come across the original recording of the song with Howard on vocals by the Young Charlatans.

Upon first listen I couldn’t wipe the smirk off of my face. This was the delivery I had been searching for, a voice with a vaguely quivering edge to it to accentuate the obvious derisiveness of the lyrics. I adored it, and furthermore I adored the brittle looking boy who sung it. This would lead to finding my first true inspiration in Rowland, but that is a tale for another rant.

What strikes me so much about ‘Shivers’ is its malleability. This is evident in the contrast between the original Young Charlatans version and the more popular Boys Next Door version. Though Howard would later confess to having never exactly perfected the track the way he desired, to a loving fan like myself, it is more than immaculate, especially the original which stays more true to its initial intent.

Rowland asserts his outlook with just enough versatility that at first glance one could assume the sentiments written to be genuine, but he sings much how he speaks in this version with a sense of sarcasm which gives the version more character. In Cave’s version, he belts the lyrics out in a heart wrenching manner which implies nothing short of pure devastation. But it is this difference in interpretation with highlights the reason this song is everlasting.

In order for a song to reach a large portion of people’s hearts, it needs to voice a passion powerful enough to mean something but vague enough to be seen through any man’s eyes. These kinds of songs are difficult to make to stand the test of time. Many fall on one end of the spectrum or the other, either too specific therefore dating it or too vague therefore rendering it void.

Shivers, however, rests itself perfectly in the in between. It hits the sweet spot, to put it simply. Though it may not have been Rowland’s intention to create something which could be made into anything other than what it is, one must admit that art is nothing without subjectivity. The beauty of this song is that it can fit you, it can fit me, it can fit your neighbor, in any way possible. It is endless in its outreach to others. As perhaps Warhol would argue, it is perfect in it’s ability to be recreated. So many of the songs you think of as classics have been covered innumerably, despite their interpreted worth or quality, and yet still stand as an individual piece separate from not only the entirety of the artist’s discography - but from the rest of the musical realm itself.

Shivers does this impeccably. It is everything you want it to be, all whilst remaining so much more. And though to many it may be seen as hard to swallow, it settles inside you despite an initial shock. Shivers glides through perception with ease, aided by many beautiful voices which has carried it throughout the years, and was born exquisite.

- LM

#lyrical analysis #mmmm kinda technically #one day i'll rewrite this for a major magazine

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discogs · 7 years

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2017′s nick cave birthday essay: your funeral, my obsession - album study

it would be meticulous to attempt to string together all the wildly fascinating aspects of nick cave's career that have drawn me in relentlessly from my first listen of his voice several years ago. there isn't much to be said about everything, about the sound or about the style, as mick harvey once put it "if they [a band] sounds like the birthday party, then they've missed the point. it was about our attitude to what we were making that mattered." and in many ways this is true. if you are solely concerned with the way nick's bandmates and him sound, you're bound to be lost on them somewhere, probably soon. the large stretch of many graves and faces isn't one that you should take a critical eye to, but instead a terribly honest and emotionally nude one. his work is something to be taken with the heart, listened to with care, and considered deeply in the same way you'd take an old story you enjoyed as a child. with musings to yourself on how the tale impacted you, moved you, and perhaps shaped you, as many of nick's have me. while harvey stayed sober during most of his career with nick, the personal experience one has with him as a listener is certainly far from sobering. the beginnings of his career share inklings of the disruptive chaos he had endured and accumulated with the birthday party, and a partial sense of misunderstanding a vocal range. iv always been a somewhat regrettable listener of the boys next doors' cover of 'these boots were made for walking' as nick's stagnant range there is terribly upsetting, as almost immediately after his voice was put on full display with rowland s. howard's immaculate 'shivers.' for me, there are still many blank spaces in my mind in regards to nick's early efforts with the bad seeds due a 'just in case' mentality. in the event record releases become sparse, and i find myself craving something new, i would like to have unfamiliar territory to dive into even if it is thirty plus years old. just in case. however, the first album to really grab my attention is his 1986 album 'your funeral ... my trail,' which is an expanse of loneliness and tales of death and abandonment. as the poor horse sorrow dies another man tears his shadow up in strips, while another rejects the soft touch of a hand for the strike of insults. the album incapsulates a lot of what makes his work for me. vivid lyrical storytelling accompanied by an often uncoordinated sounding yet immersive musical experience, the way he writes flows very well with the music, creating a sense of movement on this record that is fascinating. on tracks such as 'stranger than kindness,' the frantic hum of the guitar creates an anxious feeling that comes with self hating isolation. the subtle backing vocals of german industrial hero blixa bargeld, echoing nick's voice in a whisper so quiet you almost don't notice it, make for an effect similar to a hollow man's thoughts bounding off the land surrounding him and coming back for the mind they came from. it's this harmony of imagery and sound that form the undeniable spectacle that is 'your funeral, my trial'. it is found in most tracks on the album yet there is a particular sense of subversiveness that is found in the song 'sad waters,' the first on the american release which pays perfect respect to its title in the manner in which the bass and sliding lyrics take one deep into the waters of a lake. here bargeld echoes nick as well, as he never seemed to quite back or support nick in his vocal work, more so trail his in a shadow-like way. the song's constant state of ingenious movement takes you across the shallows to meet mary, one of nick's many ghostly figures, as she carries with her the romanticism of waters shadowed by the overcasting trees and a love so dizzying it leaves you feeling drunken and perhaps already exhausted. in fact, almost every song on the record feels as though you've just watched a two hour long foreign film (namely perhaps wim wenders' 'wings of desire,' in which 'your funeral my trial' soundtracks) and are ready to lay your head to rest. but much to an initial panic, the movie starts again, and you are sifting through shards of west berlin and distant circuses to find an end to a mess you didn't intend to get yourself into. however, though it throws you for many loops and is as tremulous as an impending falling skyscraper, pieces of it stick with you emotionally for a long time afterwards. its characters and landscapes remaining in your consciousness, and you find yourself also wishing you'd done a better job at burying sorrow. horse corpses do stink.

#reviews #it's technically one

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discogs · 7 years

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bringing life to the should-be-alive: the best covers of classic songs - a list

in some's musical careers, an artists first and sometimes only hit will be a cover. for the dexys midnight runners, one of their first hits was a magnificent cover of van morrison's 1972 track 'jackie wilson said (i'm in heaven when you smile),' for others they don't get such a fantastic rep (see alien ant farm's dismal cover of michael jackson's 1987 hit 'smooth criminal'). a cover version should be a new take, a different take on a classic or lesser known track. it should revive what it's covering and bring to the table what the song had initially lacked. the main key to a good cover is revival and creativity, something that a lot of artists fall short on.

below is a short list of covers that do exactly this, therefore making them not only unique to the artist but also giving the songs a new kind of life.

1. robyn hitchcock: the ghost in you (2014) the psychedelic furs: the ghost in you (1984)

robyn hitchcock, the eclectic uplifting ex-frontman of the legendary proto-punk band 'the soft boys' has often left followers of his floored by his innovative music and bursts of uniqueness. as one of the most distinguished vocalists of his time (standing along side the likes of jonathan richman and tom verlaine within his genre), he has brought more than enough to the table than we could have ever asked for. however, in his recent 2014 record 'the man upstairs,' hitchcock opted for an all-cover, all-acoustic album. this record has many brilliant covers on it including a slightly more erotic version of roxy music's 'to turn you on,' and a lighter version of the doors' 'the crystal ship.' yet the most outstanding track on this album is the opening track, a soft, careful cover of the psychedelic furs' 1984 single 'the ghost in you.' while the original is riddled with a quaint main synth riff and choir-like backing vocals in the chorus, is it contrasted heavily by richard butler's almost monotonous bowie-esque vocals. it's a beautiful sweeping song of love and confusion that is very much of it time. but at many times it seems as though it comes on too strong for such a sad topic. some times contrasts like that can be good, but in this song - despite its undeniable genius - it almost feels as though the sentiment is lost in the power of the execution. in hitchcock's version, the gentle guitar immediately strikes a sense of concern. it plays almost idle, as though the notes themselves are twiddling their thumbs. not soon after the initial impression we are kindly met by robyn's iconic voice gently brushing over iconic lyrics such as 'falling over you is the news of the day,' 'stars come down in you,' 'ain't it just like rain?' and potentially the most impactful his loving delivery of the repetition of the word 'love' in the latter half of the second verse. robyn's voice suits the cotton-soft emotion of the lyrics and gives them the life they deserve. his version is very much like the first chirping of birds in the morning, like sunshine warming your face after a long winter, which is exactly what the song needed - some love.

2. bauhaus: ziggy stardust (1982) david bowie: ziggy stardust (1972)

i have no need to tell you of the grand impact of david bowie's 1972 record 'rise and fall of ziggy stardust and the spiders from mars.' if you're reading this, you know. in the context of the conceptual album, the song sings sadly. it is a tale of a being who lost his head in the midst of fame and fortune with allusions to abandonment by friends, very similar to the exile and death of rolling stone's founder brian jones. it chronicles the career of well endowed superstar from mars, who falls victim to the human ego he had been trying to dismantle by starting a musical career to begin with. perhaps its due to the deficiency of proper effects for the time that the song lacks a certain passion that you swear oughta be there. the genius guitar of mick ronson has all the indications of a grand performance, however it stays trapped in mono. even bowie's vocals feel muted, where's the hype? where's the chaos of ziggy's career? has the beer light gone out? it wasn't until bowie devotee peter murphy came along in 1982 with his ground breaking band of bauhaus that the song was given the life it deserved. murphy has a knack for impersonating bowie, but in his time to completely replicate bowie, he instead displays his own personally unique voice. daniel ash's constant stream of guitar is relentless, we are never released from the excitement of this track. even the verses, which were originally quiet, have the same electric energy in them. every beginning of a chorus is kicked off with kevin haskin's quick and powerful drumming, and murphy's vocals split through the revolutionary song of demise like a knife. the beer light has been switched on, the triumph of a hero has been brought to life. the cover gives the original all that bowie had been aiming for - excitement, energy, chaos, rile, all of it. it transforms the song into the true anthem it was meant to be, filled with spinning turmoil and a constant 'in your face' attitude, the song ends with the last cry of '... ziggy played guitar' as a drum roll and screeching guitar leaves us breathless in the midst of it's product.

3. marching church: dark end of the street (2015) percy sledge: dark end of the street (1967)

percy sledge's 'dark end of the street' is the exact kind of forbidden love song you can imagine your high school sweetheart and you dancing to haphazardly with faces flushed red with love. it echoes of 'earth angel,' in many ways, making the aspect of the love the two shared being wrong even more powerful. throughout the entire track, the wedding-like backing vocals and instrumentation remind us that this is a doomed romance. and though sledge's voice conveys a level of longing that is necessary for the subject, the darkness of the street the two lovers meet on is lost on the track. the mentioned darkness that hides their wrongs is not expressed in the sorrow filled song, a love that is described as a sin seems too sweet still. in a way, the impending end is polished over by sentimentality. danish lead singer of well known bands such as iceage and vår, however, does not let the grim fate of this love affair slip from his grips. book ending a triumphant debut record, elias rønnenfelt whispers the lyrics once belted as though speaking directly to his lover through a vinyl record. the version is quiet, the depth of the blackness of shadows conveys through a bass line that is every present in the song. the background samples of cars passing, faint doors closing, subtle drums, percussion that reminds one of footsteps from a rickety second story. the covers conveys all the forbidden mischief of two unfortunately lovestruck individuals. you can picture yourself at the end of the street, whimpering cries of adoration to your lover in secret. rønnenfelt sounds pained, worried, paranoid, even, about the potential to be caught. and the hum of the saxaphone through the rain near the end of the song brings about a flood of remorse for two lovers caught in an inescapable situation. all the once glossed over despair is on full, withering display here, for all the ear to heard.

4. rowland s. howard + lydia lunch: some velvet morning (1982) lee hazelwood + nancy sinatra: some velvet morning (1969)

perhaps one of the most renowned lyricists of all time, lee hazelwood meets one of the most iconic faces and voices of all time - nancy sinatra. in a violin ridden song he sings of phaedra, a love, perhaps a vice. the music itself strings together the twos contrasting vocals like velvet, the song is smooth in its polarities. while sinatra sings her part with a voice like a fairy, hazelwood delivers his end with a heavy western-like atmosphere similar to many of his previous works. a thick, heavy bass follows him, while the chiming of bells trails behind sinatra like a long wedding dress. the song shifts from one side to the other wise ease, missing a mark that should have been met with the spontaneity of the shifts in vocals. though it does swing you from side to side, it does so with the casualness of a rocking chair outside on your front porch. at times, you wonder if these voices are too sophisticated for this task. there is a pleasant glaze over the song which diminishes the contrast. and much like david bowie's 'ziggy stardust,' we don't properly experience the chaos that is meant to be depicted. now, when this track is tossed over to life-long hazelwood lover and notorious wielder of uncontrollable guitar rowland s. howard and new york city's own queen of no wave and dismantlement lydia lunch - we get a very, very different take. instead of a rocking chair being moved by the wind, we get a madly swinging pendulumn unsure of which fate is to come. though we are introduced with similar heavy bass, the speed immediately picks up and howard's snarling vocals tear into the song with a sense of sarcasm - very different from the original sense of genuineness. lunch's end is met with the sound of an out of tune music box, with a voice that compliments the unconventionality of the music. as howard drawls on his verses, he delivers the name of 'phaedra' with a sense of animosity for the pain she causes him. and though lunch maintains the innocent sound, the underlying trickery is evident in her voice. here, all is revealed. there are no closed doors. the shift from one end to the other is abrupt, startling, and begins to feel like a direct argument unfolding before your eyes. the aladdin sane like piano near the end of the track takes us into a rabbit hole of confusion and emotional turmoil; a logical conclusion to a disagreement we had the misfortune of stumbling upon. the conflict between the two narrators is very evident in this version, as to where in the original it seemed much more like an innocent misunderstanding, here we see the raw bones of it. this wasn't a simple mistake, this was a downright shoot-em-up, and who better to depict this but two musicians with the same rawness and ferocity of a blood and guts western?

- LM

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discogs · 7 years

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song connections: tom waits' "martha" and jonathan richman's "that summer feeling,” - a study in the duality of memory.

in what may be one of jonathan richman's most well known songs, we elaborate on the nostalgic sensation one experiences when they reach a point in their life where most activities seem mundane. the things you once loved have fallen victim to routine, and you too often find yourself glancing through old Polaroids from when you seemed to be more alive. a time where your actions were not dictated by obligation, where you believed in things such as trust and love, a time that now escapes you. a polite guitar accompanies a melody of genuineness, something often found in richman's work, the song is one that is just as soothing and relaxing as those idle summers you used to enjoy. the quiet hums of his bandmates carry the listener with ease into the song, which is an exploration into the periods of your life that, when they occured, were awful. but now that you're older, were splendid. however, as we continue into the track we begin to realise and understand the point: memory is a clever trick. in your lowest points, you will remember your previous lows as highs. you will mistake your childish fascinations for grand endeavours, your puppy dog crush as a true love, and you will feel inclined to throw away your current stability for the seemingly appealing 'freedom' of your yesteryears. this sentimentality will always follow you, but giving into it would be a mistake, as ultimately; your peace remains in your current state. there is a reason you are here now, and not there, you have grown. and to go back would be to reverse yourself to a place you no longer belong. jonathan richman knows of restraint, and can appreciate the life he understands he has made for himself as a product of all those past experiences. he halts at wistfulness, and leaves it as such.

oppositely, one who does not yield to recollecton is the narrator of tom waits' solemn track 'martha.' in this side of memory we are confronted with a man who cannot find contentment within the life he has created. often lost in the dysfunctional, now romanticised past, old tom frost seeks out the warmth of his once love. as he goes through a seemingly one sided conversation with his first partner, martha, we are reminded of a line from jonathan richman's song. "And you boys long for some little girl that you dated / do you long for her or for the way you were ?" as we listen to the aching words of tom frost, we can't help but wonder if his sentiments towards martha are pure, or simply misconstrued desperation for a time that was much more exciting than the present. there is more recollection of the events they went through in his conversation than there are emotion towards her, as a matter of fact, his confession of love does not come till much after his initial reminiscence. it seems as though martha is not the one who he seeks so feverishly, but the life they used to share when he was a more confident, daring man. the harshness of the cold, the bitterness of being alone, are now recalled as romantic moments when in reality, (presumptively) for martha those were more than likely the harshest years of her life.

it is here that we are forced again to consider another line from richman's song; "When the playground that just was all dirt comes hauntin/ And that little girl that called you a flirt / Memory comes tauntin / You pick these things apart, they're not that appealin." richman has analysed his past, in his second glances he finds that those occasions and those places were not as wonderful as he recalled. they were simple, often dirty, minuscule times. these were the times before the future was a thought, but now that he has reached his future, he understands that these events are simply that - events. he takes a deep breath, nods, and walks away from what he once had instead of attempting to plunge himself back into those foggy days. tom frost, unfortunately, does not. he tucks himself into a phone booth, asks for a number which has now subsided into forgetfulness, and pleads with the past to become his present.

'martha' is certainly a tragedy of the consequence of being too nostalgic, of being filled with regrets, and the inability to move on. by the end of 'martha,' we feel as though we are standing outside tom frost's phone booth watching him stand still in time. we can only hope by the end of this musical journey, that we choose to stay in the present with richman, as opposed to falling victim to yearning like frost.

- LM

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