Koop
Summer Sun (Drumagick Remix)
I am, indeed, holding out for sunshine tomorrow. The Weather Network says otherwise. Will the weather hold for Canada Day?
The original version of Koop’s “Summer Sun” is glorious, with horns every which way and a warm lounge sound with a slight touch of latino rhythm. It’s almost a testament to “Summer Sun’s” greatness that you can transform half the song into a drum n’ bass outing, put the two side by side, and still have everything come up roses.
Sonic Youth
Dripping Dream
Sonic Nurse (2004)
Sonic Youth is new to me.
Not, like, amazingly new. The first album I picked up, though, was 1998’s A Thousand Leaves, on the strength of “Sunday,” a single the local alternative radio station played a sum total of twice before ignoring it. Everyone knows who Sonic Youth is, of course, but the Sonic Youth I’m acquainted with has always been middle-aged. They’ve also been very hit and miss, forgiven their mistakes only on the basis of a lot of cred they’ve acquired from much earlier releases.
Well, most of the time. NYC Ghosts And Flowers, as far as I can tell, wasn’t forgiven by anyone. It put me off Sonic Youth for a spell, so I missed out on Murray Street and was prepared to give Sonic Nurse a pass as well. But the latest album from Sonic Youth easily outdoes A Thousand Leaves and is the first album I’ve heard from them that honestly has no real weak spots, save maybe for the somewhat-bland “New Hampshire.”
My favourite SY track used to be “Wildflower Soul,” a nine-minute rollercoaster summary of everything I thought the band did well on A Thousand Leaves. What’s great about “Sonic Nurse” is that not only does “Dripping Dream” beat that landmark handily, but the rest of the album has equally brilliant, more focused compositions as well; the languid “I Love You Golden Blue,” the bright “Peace Attack,” the caustic “Kim Gordom And The Arthur Doyle Hand Cream” (renamed from “Mariah Carey And The Arthur Doyle Hand Cream” for legal issues).
Ash
Gabriel
Shining Light (2001, single)
Ash had a hard time of it in North America, but in a sense they did better than they had any right to expect. Although none of them were even 20 years old yet, the members of Ash scored a minor hit with the lead single from their first album, 1977. “Goldfinger” did have the slight misfortune of coming out at the same time the band Goldfinger released their much higher-profile first single, meaning any mention of Goldfinger either got you a question about the Bond film or the American ska-punk band. Sorry, guys.
But weep not for Ash—after adding guitarist Charlotte Hatherley and working out the kinks on Nu-Clear Sounds, Ash finally reached the lower echelons of U.K. stardom with 2001’s Free All Angels. “Burn Baby Burn” attracted enough attention to merit that album’s release in the States as well.
“Shining Light” is more of a mid-tempo rock ballad, representative of the band’s slicker pop-punk sound. “Gabriel,” the b-side to “Shining Light,” showcases the opposite tendency: it’s five minutes of big riffs, guitar squeals and walls of noise and sound. It’s damned near anthemic, is what it is. Turn up the volume on this one.
Freezepop
Jem And The Holograms Theme
Fancy Ultra-Fresh (2004)
If you don’t think too hard about it, I suppose the best example of a Freezepop prototype would be Bis, that cute little Scottish band that liked to play with keyboards. Certainly you could describe Freezepop the same way, except they’re not Scottish.
But there’s more to the band that won Best U.S. Band at the American Synthpop Awards two years running. No, I didn’t know they handed out awards to synthpop bands either, but they sound like nice people. Speaking of nice people, Freezepop seem like the cutest bunch of sequencer-lovin’ 80s-style fashionistas you’re ever likely to meet.
Synthpop is something of an acquired taste; if you don’t enjoy the plastic sound of whip drum effects, you may want to steer clear. But you have to give props to a band that has largely relied on a tiny Yamaha QY70 sequencer and a vocoder for all their intricate pop songs. And if you’ve ever heard or seen Freezepop live, you know how much fun they are. But don’t take my word for it. Take Jem’s.
Goldfrapp
Twist
Black Cherry (2003)
The failure of Lollapalooza on our shores has only made the success of giant music festivals in Britain all the more baffling. Witness the enormity of Glastonbury 2004, which took place over the weekend: a three-day romp with a bill that included, among others, the Chemical Brothers, Basement Jaxx, Oasis, Morrisey, PJ Harvey, James Brown, Orbital and Paul McCartney. This sort of camp-out-and-party festival hasn’t been seen in North America on such a large scale since the unfortunate Eden Musicfest in the mid-90s, an event many talked about at the time but has since faded from the collective consciousness—but not before losing truckloads of money.
Much like the paradox of places like Indigo and Barnes and Noble being able to offer a much wider selection of obscure books than your local mom and pop bookstore, festivals like Glastonbury and Reading benefit from an economy of scale. By virtue of being so big, it gives exposure to smaller artists who would otherwise be left in the cold. Thus the wonder of Goldfrapp’s live set being broadcast nationwide by BBC3 in an era when music programming in North America is arguably at its nadir. What would it take to see any live set on national television here? You’d pretty much have to be Britney Spears.
Since their first album, Felt Mountain, Goldfrapp has picked up a few new tricks, not the least of which is a dirtier electroclash aesthetic. Of course, electroclash as a term means practically nothing these days, so let me elaborate: Goldfrapp revels in the joy of retro synthesizers and digital sirens, painting a portrait of Alison Goldfrapp as 80s dancefloor sex goddess.
What saves Black Cherry from the irrelevance of electroclash as a genre is the apparent presence of a beating heart and a human voice. Allison Goldfrapp’s voice is too good to be forced to mimic an android, and she knows it. That’s one of the reasons why the Glastonbury crowd met the opening strains of “Train” with cheers—they know a good thing when they hear it.
Petra Haden
Look Both Ways Before You Cross
Imaginaryland (1996)
Petra Haden is one of those musicians who has friends in high places. Alongside kudos from the likes of Elvis Costello, she’s played violin and sung backup with that dog. and the Rentals. She’s also lent her violin skills to a great many albums from Green Day, Victoria Williams and Luscious Jackson. To top it all off, her dad’s famed bassist Charlie Haden.
While she usually plays the role of mercenary violinist, Haden can also sing, although she never took lead vocals in the two bands she was a permanent member of. She did, however, drop the violin for most of her solo album, “Imaginaryland,” in favour of a number of acapella tracks.
“Look Both Ways Before You Cross” is representative of the album. It’s an odd little track and very different from the stuff she normally trades in when she plays with other bands. It’s also very endearing in its simplicity, and Haden is a remarkable singer.
Saint Etienne
The Way I Fell For You
The Misadventures Of Saint Etienne (1999)
The number of releases your standard Saint Etienne fan is likely to know nothing about is staggering. Between the British pop band’s fan club releases, a bevy of remix and b-side albums, and the mitigating effects of the Atlantic ocean on trade, there’s an entire world of Saint Etienne songs you probably haven’t heard even if you’ve plastered the walls with pictures of Sarah Cracknell and have named your first-born after Pete Wiggs (”Bob” just seemed too blah of a name).
Between the bright 60s lounge-pop of Good Humor and the vastly more teutonic electronica of Sound Of Water lies the soundtrack to The Misadventures Of Margaret. Around the same time Sub Pop released the Places To Visit EP in the States, Saint Etienne served up an album of instrumentals and complete songs to the European and Japanese markets. Arguably they got the better end of the deal.
It means that those of us in North America missed out on gems like “The Way I Fell For You,” which represents late-era Saint Etienne at its finest. The band returns to the sequencers for the album, partially eschewing the live instruments of Good Humor. This track in particular is the danciest of the bunch, a prime example of just how irresistable Saint Etienne can be.
Bjork
All Neon Like (Endless Love Be Yours Mix)
Once upon a time, there was a Japanese Bjork fan website that was a little different from all the other Bjork fansites. There was no breaking news on the Icelandic singer’s latest box set (although I hear there’s about 20 different sets for sale now), no wallpapers with her image plastered all over them, no gigantic repository of lyrics. Instead, the Bjork Remix Web hosted amateur remixes collected from submissions all over the globe. Some of them were quite good, too.
Alas, a couple of years ago, the Bjork Remix Web disappeared, with naught but an Under Construction notice to let us know it would return. That’s now gone as well, leaving a scattered diaspora of remixers and tracks floating about.
Future Alien, the remixer of this and several other tracks on the old site, seems to enjoy sampling movies a lot, which sometimes works and sometimes falls flat (as on this track, unless you really enjoyed Baz Luhrmann). Past that, though, there’s some great chilled drum ‘n bass waiting for you. This mix retains just enough of the original’s features to be recognizable, but most of the song’s structure and atmosphere have been tossed.
Many of the better remixers on the site routinely gutted Bjork’s work, which is a pretty big risk to take. It paid off tremendously in the sheer diversity of moods and tracks, though—all the more reason why, if there’s any justice in the world, the Bjork Remix Web will one day rise again.
Erase Errata
Delivery
Erase Errata (2000, seven-inch)
Other Animals isn’t an easy album to warm up to, although I like it well enough after listening to it very occasionally over the past two years. The initial disappointment can be chalked up to one thing: they put a different rendition of “Delivery” on the album than the one I first heard.
Erase Errata’s brand of sharp-edged post-punk can be a bit off-putting at first. “Delivery’s” guitar lines careen all over the place before the song seems to suffer a mental breakdown before the first minute’s up. On the album, the song lurches around quite a bit more and the vocals are different—less deadpan, more histrionic.
I guess the mix works better in the context of the album, but this version, taken from their 2000 self-titled EP, is my personal favourite.
Mirah
Telescope
Storageland (1998)
“Telescope” will always remind me of last summer. I spent the vast majority in it in Kingston, a university town if there ever was one: small enough that the university makes a huge impact, but large enough that it can pretend otherwise. Student living offers few amenities, so you learn to cherish the ones you have. For me, that meant a big window with a view of the park. I spent many an afternoon after work gazing out that window, watching the breeze flirt with the full, green leaves of the tree in the backyard across from ours.
Mirah’s short but splendid career as a solo artist can be aplit into two halves. There’s the later, mature half, where she mellows out and flirts with Phil Elvrum’s production technique to create two albums of low-key, restrained pop songs. And then there’s the earlier “girl with a guitar” stage, where she sang sweet and winning songs about love and lust and playing Atari with her brother. “Telescope” belongs to the latter tradition.
It’s not a crisp recording, and she really is just a girl with a guitar at this point, but that all only adds to the charm. This is a song made for basking in the sun without a care or worry in the world. If you could use a little bit of carefree spirit, Mirah’s got it in spades.