Delicate and ephemeral, it moved in one night, and took up residence as a ghost in my head.
Now snatches of it will float up from the murky dross of my conscious mind to confuse and beguile me. I'll stop, look up, lose track of what I'm doing while I try to follow it home and find out what it wants.
Who are you, I ask? What do you want?
I never really get a straight answer.
It's like that dream you wake up from and can't remember, but the mood of it stays with you all day? It's like that.
I fell madly in love with Anika Moa's latest album during the two weeks I spent back home recently.
It's a gorgeous, summery treat: a perfect accompaniment to a lovely (but oh so brief!) holiday with family and friends.
You know when you have the stereo on in the background, though, and you really only give half an ear to the music? It wasn't till I got home (having been gifted the CD by my brother's boyfriend -- such a nice man) that I took a closer listen to the album. And I am now, well and truly, without a doubt, under its spell.
The disc in its entirety is a beautiful thing.
But the last third of the album? That's really something else.
You know when you hear a song and it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up? Sends a frission right the way up your spine, and then down again?
The two songs that I'm about to play do exactly that to me. I am quite honestly -- and quite thoroughly -- floored by these songs.
Here then, and without further ado, are "Standing in this fire" and "Thinking about tomorrow":
Another one? So fast? I swear, every year I sound more and more like my aged grandparents. (Before they shuffled off this mortal coil. Bless 'em).
Another new year, and some of you, my digital friends, are in a state of flux, what with moves to London, and to slow blogging, (which I wholeheartedly applaud. And intend to emulate. The slow blogging, that is, not the move to London. Although I wholeheartedly approve of the move to London, too.)
And from the depths of this particularly (it seems to me) brutally cold, dark winter, I have a couple of musical delights to tickle your new year fancy. Or fancy your new year tickle, as they say.
I'll start by mentioning New Zealand's own Ladyhawke, who I've written about already, but who deserves -- and shall receive -- another post all of her own. (Up soon!)
The band I want to talk about today, though, is the Autumn Film.
Here's how the Onion describes them:
"Like a post-collegiate Fiona Apple jamming with Snow Patrol, The Autumn Film serves up a piano-drenched sincerity topped off with a voice that’s wise and heartbroken beyond its years."
Which pretty much sums up their sound nicely.
What I love most about the Autumn Film, though, is that they're into connecting with their fans directly.
In other words, they're wanting to get their music heard, and making it easy for fans to get excited about their music and come to their gigs and get other people excited about the band too.
It's working for me so far.
I would love to know if it's working out for them commercially. I certainly hope so. I think it's a smart, creative move, and as a fan, it's pushing all the right buttons.
So here we go, here's "Sunstruck". Make sure to go check out the rest of their stuff.
Montreal seems to have more than its fair share of angel-voiced men making dreamy, melodic indie pop (Patrick Watson, Alexandre Desilets, and Karkwa to name but a few).
You can go ahead and add Éléphantine to that list.
Like the aforementioned bands, Éléphantine are literate and assured, creating atmospheric, textured and emotionally intense songs.
So far they've put out just one EP, entitled Sous le règne des lampadaires. It's a slow burner, full of yearning and beautifully layered melodies.
If this is the entrée, I'm more than ready for the main! Luckily, the band are slated to release a full length album in the winter of 2009.
Sebastien Grainger was one half of the now disbanded Death From Above 1979. He's since struck out on his own and tours under the moniker Sebastien Grainger & The Mountains. I love the driving rhythm and the melodramatic vocals on this track, which comes from American Names EP. The song reminds me very much of Broken Social Scene, so now I think of it as having a quintessential Canadian sound. Which is rubbish, of course, because there is no "quintessential Canadian sound", but there you go.
More catchy than herpes (okay, yes, that's gross. So let's just say: very, very catchy). Listen to this a couple of times, crank it up, and then try and resist singing along loudly (while playing air guitar). I think it may actually be humanly impossible to hear this and not want to sing along. Go on, then, try it. I dare you.
Hailing from Paris, France, Etyl is (to all intents and purposes) chanteuse Eglantine Hermand.
Hermand has two albums under her belt so far -- La Tortue from 2005 and Les Souris, which was released in March of this year. (And which, unfortunately, stinky old iTunes Canada does not carry.)
Ranging in influence from pop, to electronic, to jazz, Ms. Hermand has a thoroughly distinctive voice and style and I, for one, am hooked.
I guess maybe I'll have to go hunt for her album the old fashioned way? Like in a store? Where they sell you a little box with a shiny disc inside? Crikey...
You can always go and check out her MySpace page, and I would, if I were you. It's well worth it.
When I first heard this song, I thought I was listening to Beirut.
Then I thought, oh no, wait, it's Radiohead.
Then I thought, holy crap, it's Vast. And: Holy crap, the handclaps!
I love this song, it's my new favourite ever, ever. (For today, obviously. Shallow and fickle as I be).
I love the melodrama and the angst of it, and -- I can't believe I'm going to write this -- the sweeping trumpet. (There, I wrote it.) But I do. I love it all.
And in case you're wondering, you are, in fact, listening to Get Well Soon, the music project brainchild of 25 year old composer and multi-instrumentalist, Konstantin Gropper.
At only 22 years of age, the prodigious (and disturbingly talented) Zach Condon has already released two albums.
Better known to the world at large as Beirut, Condon's music is an enchanting blend of folk-pop, heavily influenced by Eastern European folk and balkan gypsy music. Despite his youth, and the fact that he grew up in Santa Fe, New Mexico, his music has an unmistakable old country feel, and a maturity that belies his tender years.
His music is boisterous and romantic, the kind of thing you might imagine yourself listening to in the Mediterranean somewhere, late at night, under the stars, seated round a large table with a gaggle of strangers made fast friends through a day of drinking and revelry.
Suffice it to say, it's not the kind of thing you would expect to hear in a club.
Until now.
DJs Fredo & Thang, from the Gameplayer label, have released a mash-up called "Beirut Disco".
Dub inflected beats and snatches of spoken french are woven through swathes of organ and Beirut's slightly nasal vocals to create some kind of gypsy folk electronica hybrid.
It's Beirut gone urban.
And whether in a club, or sitting on a terrace drinking a beer, Beirut Disco is the perfect accompaniment to the heat and bluster of summer.
What starts out like Elastica before morphing into Interpol by way of Joy Division?
It's not a trick question, and okay, I'm doing those annoying reductive comparisons again, but really, Baltic Fleet have to be heard to be believed.
And trust me, I'm not slighting the band in the least. Anything that starts out like Elastica before morphing into Interpol by way of Joy Division has me from the get-go.
When I say 'the band' I really mean Paul Fleming, keyboard player for Echo and The Bunnymen. Baltic Fleet is his baby.
He apparently wrote the album when he was on tour with the Bunnymen, trying to capture, in music, what inspired him in each city around the world.
While Baltic Fleet is a new discovery for me, a quick listen to the myspace page suggests to me that the band (ie, Fleming) is going to be huge.
He certainly deserves to be.
One of my favourite songs (out of an already incredibly strong line up) is "3 Dollar Dress".
It's hypnotic and savage -- a driving slice of indie rock heaven.
And what's more, it starts out like Elastica, before morphing into Interpol, by way of Joy Division...
Montreal band Pas Chic Chic has been getting some rapturous press of late, both locally and nationally.
They're often been compared to Arcade Fire, and even though their sound is quite different, they more than merit the comparison because of their energy and their magpie ability to steal from all kinds of music genres to create something completely unique and exciting.
Front man Roger Tellier-Craig talks about his early inspiration for the band:
I wanted to do a band like this for a very long time. When I was around 18 years old and barely playing an instrument, I first heard Serge Gainsbourg. I had been listening to a lot of Anglophone music before that, stuff like My Bloody Valentine, Sonic Youth, the Velvet Underground and Brian Eno and I have to admit that at the time I thought all francophone music was shit ... Stereolab first showed me you could sing in French and make interesting music, but when I heard Gainsbourg I realized that there was a history of French music I had never heard of through radio or TV... [more]
Pas Chic Chic is certainly creating a buzz about town. I just hope audiences outside of Montreal, and Canada, will get to hear this extraordinary band.
Here's "Haydée Morcelée" from their latest album Au Contraire:
I first heard Aussie singer Sia Furler on the haunting Zero 7 tune Distractions.
That song still has the power to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
None of her solo work has had quite the same impact on me, but I've found myself following her career over the years, simply because I find her voice so unique and gorgeous.
Plus she makes it all look absolutely effortless.
Here she is for a live performance on the KCRW radio show with Nic Harcourt, singing "The Girl you Lost to Cocaine" (with the added bonus of some unusual chair dancing):
The tune is from her latest album Some People Have Real Problems, (which unfortunately, and quite possibly, has the worst cover art of all time.)
In person she seems unpretentious, bubbly and thoroughly charming.
Here's another personal favourite from her latest album, the Zero 7-esque "Beautiful Calm Driving":
Back in the day, and stuck as we were (are?) at the arse end of the world, Kiwi listening tastes were very much dictated by what was going on in the UK, America and Australia.
Very little from Europe filtered down to us.
Consequently I was introduced to the myriad joys of bands like Rita Mitsouko, Plastic Bertrand and Indochine rather late in life.
I certainly made up for lost time, and consumed these icons of trashy pop greatness like a girl starving. (I am pretty much a sucker for anything sounding remotely 80s.)
It's only quite recently I became aware that, for Indochine at least, there was life beyond the eighties.
Indochine are the ultimate purveyors of driving melodic pop: their music is like candy.
It gives you a massive sugar rush, spiking you high into the stratosphere. And although it's true that too much in one sitting has the potential to leave you with a tension headache, taken in small doses, Indochine are almost guaranteed to put a smile on your dial.
When I say Ladyhawke, I'm talking about Kiwi singer Pip Browne, not the execrable 80s movie, and not the band from Vancouver.
Sharon O'Neill lookalike (if you're a kiwi kid of the 80s you'll know who I'm talking about), Ladyhawke wears her influences firmly on her sleeve: Think Stevie Nicks, with a healthy dose of Chrissie Hynde attitude, and a youthful, vulnerable quality vis-à-vis Kim Wilde, circa "Kids in America".
Her track "Paris is burning" has been given the Alex Gopher treatment, and what a thing of beauty it is.
Gopher's mash-up of "Paris is Burning" has a definite 80s aesthetic, which is almost certainly why I find it irresistible. I love the cycling, sinuous synth line, the handclaps, and the LCD Soundsystem-inspired cowbell in the background.
The song teeters on the edge of all-out cheesiness, but this should be true for any good club tune worth its salt.
All told, "Paris is Burning" is a delicious, thoroughly intoxicating pop confection.
"L'amour et la violence" is the final track off the album Sexuality by french composer Sébastien Tellier.
The album was produced by Daft Punk's Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo, and there are definitely traces of Punk all over this album. But Tellier, a multi-instrumentalist, singer and songwriter, is extraordinarily talented, and "L'amour et la violence" is a beautiful meditation on love, life and regret.
It's not so much in the lyrics of the song, but in the mood it creates.
So melancholy, so sweetly tragic, and oh, so very french....
Sometimes the iPod's shuffle feature throws up the most weird and wonderful juxtapositions.
How about Crystal Castles' "Courtship Dating" followed by dEUS' "Suds and Soda"?
Pure brilliance.
Toronto's Crystal Castles have been getting a lot of ecstatic press lately, and deservedly so (in my most humble opinion).
I've seen lots of reviews by blokes raving about how the Atari sound takes them right back to their game-boy-geek adolescence. It's a "I- guess-you-had-to be-there" kind of thing, and since I wasn't, I don't get it. But I take their word for it.
For me, Crystal Castles suggest some kind of f*cked up, magnificent mélange of Sleater Kinney, Le Tigre and Soulwax.
They're their own trip, though, no question. So if you haven't yet, you should leap on the ride!
As for dEUS, they're old favourites. And somehow CCs' "Courtship Dating", with its shouted, call and response chorus segues perfectly into the see-sawing intro and shouted, disjointed verses of "Suds and Soda".
Update: Seems CC are in a bit of hot water of late, for liberally pilfering samples from a community they'd previously denied any knowledge of. (Thanks to my anonymous commenter for the tip.) There's a good breakdown over at Create Digital Music of the controversy, along with an interesting discussion and examples of the offending songs.
Anyway. Big sound. Fuzzy, galloping bass, anguished vocals -- it's like the Knife collided with Röyksopp in a dark alley way, got carnal, and had a love child (long lost twin, rumour has it, of Mika).
I chanced across the following video recently thanks to (of all people) that mad old bird Camille Paglia.
It's a duet between Charlotte Gainsbourg and Étienne Daho, live, on French TV.
It looks like it's been lifted directly from 1972, is cheesy as hell, and I think it's magic-pants. Their performances are so relaxed and unaffected -- light-years away from the absurd bread and circus acts deemed "music entertainment" by our southern neighbours.
I love the word-play in this song, with the constant repetition of the suffix "if", and the way Gainsbourg and Daho's voices perfectly compliment one another.
And Gainsbourg, in this video, is ... dare I say it: Hot.
There I said it.
She is utterly understated and unpretentious and authentic, yet she is smokin', and somehow a thousand times more sensual than, say, this.
Watch:
To paraphrase a good friend: "Unlike North America, Europeans can still make pop that isn't complete shit."
Mp3 files will normally be up for a short time only. If you like a song, why not support the artist and go buy the album?
If you're an artist, or represent an artist, and would like to have a song removed, email me (gurdypi at gmail dot com) and I'll have it taken down. Quick smart, like.
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1 comments
May 3, 2009
