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Archive for October, 2006

Petra Haden
Thriller

Though not strictly a Halloween song, “Thriller” has all the ingredients—spooky setting, well-choreographed zombies, great costumes, and a big fright—at least for Michael Jackson’s girl. So in light of the season, I bring you a “Thriller” reanimation of Frankensteinian proportions, courtesy of the lovely and talented Petra Haden (who previously did an entire acapella reimagining of The Who Sell Out). She really belts it out on this one—if you’re at all a Petra Haden fan, you need this.

Paper Moon
String of Blinking Lights
Broken Hearts Break Faster Every Day (2006)

The last time I heard anything from Paper Moon was a couple of years ago, when the Winnipeg-based group released their debut, One Thousand Reasons To Stay, One Reason To Leave. They were just one of the many bright lights in the Endearing Records stable, alongside the likes of Julie Doiron, Novillero (now on Mint Records) and the Meligrove Band. They managed to score some success in Japan (now how come we don’t hear that cliche as much as we used to?) and a bunch of soundtrack spots for various television shows (now how come we… oh, wait, we hear that all the time) thanks to their upbeat, keyboard-fueled power pop. By all rights, I should’ve loved Paper Moon, just like the critics and the Canadian pop lovers did.

And yet, no. “Mercury Is Clearly Opposing Neptune” aside, One Thousand Reasons To Stay never stuck for me. Since then, there have been a couple of similar acts that have also failed recently to leave much of an impact: the Gay, Mates of State, A.C. Newman, Immaculate Machine, and even the New Pornographers’ Electric Version. If you were wondering why I never bothered to write anything about Twin Cinema, now you know why.

So now it’s 2006 and lo and behold, Paper Moon are back with Broken Hearts Break Faster Every Day. If nothing else, Paper Moon could retire now and make a living coming up with quirky titles for other bands; it’s clear from “Your Thesaurus Won’t Help You Now” and “Broken Hearts Break Faster Every Day” that Paper Moon have a knack for this sort of thing. But what about the music? I’ve only heard a couple of tracks, but the scouting report suggests the band has toned down the sugar. The arrangements are more refined and the keyboards no longer stand out so much; the high-octane giddiness of “Mercury Is Clearly Opposing Neptune” is gone, but so is material like the grating opening to “Sno-Globe,” a song I can never bear to listen to even though it commits no other grave errors. But what’s especially interesting to me is the band’s newfound embrace of minor chord progressions. “String of Blinking Lights” is a perfect example of the slight shift in approach; it feels more accomplished and hits with greater weight than anything off One Thousand Reasons To Stay.

The trade-off, of course, is that Paper Moon sound a bit more adult contemporary these days. But this is an approach that worked well for former Kindercore band Call and Response when taken to an extreme; there’s no reason why Paper Moon couldn’t use the same playbook.

Annie
Heartbeat (Simlish Mix)
The Sims 2: Nightlife (2005)

The fun things you find browsing through Wikipedia:

Annie rerecorded her songs Chewing Gum and Heartbeat in the Simlish nonsense-language for The Sims 2: Nightlife’s Danish and Norwegian localizations.

You can’t just read something like that and not want to immediately track down the songs in question. So I did. And yes, it’s really her.

Helium
Julia (demo)

Despite running this site, having my fingers in several music-related forums and generally being well-read when it comes to music, I have never really seen a whole lot of rare releases. Pre-releases, yes; but then these days it’s not hard to find leaked versions of upcoming albums, just keep an eye on your local friendly torrent site. But stuff that’s hard to find anywhere else? That requires actual work, lots of connections or both. The closest I get to that sort of material is generally stuff in fairly wide release anyways, like Liz Phair’s early “girlysound” tapes. Though I honestly couldn’t tell you where to find it if you asked.

Anyways, they say fortune favors the bold. Sometimes fortune favors me, as once upon a time I stumbled across a pack of MP3s someone had ripped from a CD-R from a friend of a friend back in Boston. The CD-R contained the b-sides from Helium’s Superball+ EP—and a bunch of demos, acoustic versions and unreleased songs. “Julia” never saw the light of day, it seems, but the demo is fairly polished. With Helium’s sound evolving a great deal around the time of The Dirt Of Luck and beyond, it’s entirely possible that “Julia” didn’t fit into Helium’s new world order. As a one-off, though, it’s a nice track to have. And for anyone enamoured with Mary Timony but not her later treks into neo-medieval dirges, “Julia” is a glimpse into an alternate universe where Mary Lou Lord ends up fronting Helium permanently while Timony goes back to busking in the subway and singing sweet little acoustic numbers in coffee shops.

Saint Etienne
Angel (Way Out West radio edit)
Angel/Burnt Out Car (1996, single)

In the midst of all the Saint Etienne re-examination I did a while back, I forgot to mention a few things. First off, the Saint Etienne MySpace page contains a preview of the Mervyn Day soundtrack, “Sugarhouse Lane.” It’s a short instrumental piece of ear candy; can’t wait to see what the full soundtrack brings. Second, YouTube is a goldmine for videos and live performances, including this fantastic festival performance of “Goodnight Jack,” a Live with Jools Holland performance of “La Poupee Qui Fait Non,” a chat and performance of “Filthy” at V2000, and finally the oddity of Saint Etienne closing out a British breakfast show at Halloween with “He’s On The Phone.”

Finally, there’s “Angel,” a track that falls in the lengthy transition period between 1994’s Tiger Bay and 1998’s Good Humor. Released as a radio single in 1996 and presumably intended to promote the double remix album Casino Classics, “Angel” had been in the works for a while but seemed to be a track that wouldn’t quite come together properly. On the fan club odds-and-ends release Nice Price, you can hear the original mix from 1995 that the band appear to still be quite fond of. According to the liner notes of Nice Price, no one else seemed to appreciate it as much as they did. In hindsight, what their original mix really needed was a good edit; at seven minutes long, “Angel” just took too long to get to the beats, distracted as it was by the electronic noodling at the beginning. Trim all those bits off and pump some vitamins into the remainder and you get this mix by Bristol house duo Way Out West, a lesser-known but still essential Saint Etienne track.

Dear Nora
Emily
There Is No Home (2006)

There Is No Home marks the end of the road for Dear Nora, an underappreciated San Francisco band whose sound has finally evolved far enough that keeping the old name makes no sense. It’s the end of an era for the band’s only permanent member, Katy Davidson, who will move on to other projects more in line with her current musical direction.

I skipped over Mountain Rock based largely on the sound of the one song I heard off the album, “Here We Come Around.” after the burnished, autumnal sound of The New Year EP “Here We Come Around” seemed to retreat a bit into simple, lightweight folk—no rock, just a whole lot of… mountain? The slight psychedelic flourishes on The New Year EP seemed to have disappeared. In retrospect, perhaps it was unfair to judge an entire album on one song, if Dear Nora’s later work has been any indication. “Sarah, You’re Not For Me,” from the recent Magic Marker compilation A House Full Of Friends, picked up where earlier songs like “A Polar Bear” left off. And now there’s “Emily,” the dark wilderness to “Here We Come Around”’s campfire.

So what’s next for Davidson and company? The most immediate sign of things to come is this MySpace page for Katy and Marianna, aka Katy Davidson and Dear Nora alum Marianna Ritchey. Despite the apparent goofiness of the whole venture (unless they’re serious about “WE SOUND EXACTLY LIKE SIMON AND GARFUNKLE”), it’s unlikely Davidson’s ever again going to sing the early-career teenage lyrics like “I am such a bore, I can’t take it anymore / but school’s out forever and I’m never gonna let it go.” But then, that hasn’t been the case for years now and I still stick by her. I look forward to her next move.

Tahiti 80
Heartbeat (Cornelius remix)
Extra Pieces (2001)

In another case of the everyone else getting all the good stuff first, the latest album from French popsters Tahiti 80 is coming out in North America next month, more than a year after its release across the pond. This would explain the slew of North American dates coming up soon, which has me interested; we don’t have a whole lot of bands over here powered by disco beats and falsettos anymore, not that Tahiti 80 are the second coming of the Bee Gees or anything. Though listening to “Big Day” off the aforementioned Fosbury, maybe the comparison isn’t as ludicrous as I thought.

Tahiti 80’s biggest splash stateside was with “Heartbeat,” off their first album Puzzle. Perhaps as part of the transcontinental music exchange program that sent Towa Tei to London and Kahimi Karie to Paris, Tahiti 80 found themselves with a sizable fan base in Japan. And why not? The Japanese have never been as allergic to the disco aesthetic as the Reagan generation. So it makes some sense that Cornelius should work his magic on “Heartbeat.” If you’ve heard any of the Four Tet remixes of Beth Orton’s Daybreaker material, you’ll know what to expect here: the beats and keyboards have been turned down in favor of a more organic folk sound. There’s even a bit of banjo in there somewhere. Sublime and soothing where the original was upbeat and full of funk, it’s a lovely track to have in your collection.

Curve
Horror Head
Doppelganger (1992)

One of the problems I’ve had with shoegazer material in the past is it’s so damned gauzy and indistinct at times that entire albums can fly by without much notice. A friend lent me the definitive album of the genre, My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless, and all I remember from an entire weekend of listening is what the cover looked like—a photo of something blurred beyond recognition into ghostly patterns of pink and purple. I remember liking a bunch of hooks throughout the album, melodies here and there, but can’t remember how any of them go. My Bloody Valentine, though they are less than two decades old, seem like a relic from far before my time, one of those monumental bands I will never be able to understand because I don’t have the requisite appreciation of the era to fully get the album’s sound. I imagine it’d be like giving a college graduate of 2012 a copy of Portishead’s Dummy. They’d appreciate the historical import but not so much the aesthetic contributions.

So I’ve never really dug into the original shoegazer scene, even as I continue to appreciate the work of those influenced by shoegazer without really knowing it. I even own a Lush album, though by the time of Lovelife Lush had all but ceased to be a shoegazer band. I loved Come Clean when it was first released by a resurgent Curve in 1998, showing the distant stepchildren like Garbage how it was supposed to be done. But with the story of their first incarnation nothing more than a good lede for an article or a couple of seconds of radio banter, Curve’s shoegazing origins were lost to me, and I thought of them first and foremost as a terrifyingly awesome techno-altrock band. “Chinese Burn” could’ve kickstarted a revolution with its beats and its fury; by contrast, Doppelganger fell too far into the musical glossolalia of shoegazer to make much of an impact.

But Doppelganger is my most recent re-discovery. What brought me back around? I don’t know, exactly; maybe learning about Curve’s second dissolution last year made it a good time to re-examine the back catalog; maybe seeing the video for “Horror Head” made something clicked; maybe turning up the volume made me realize what “wall of sound” was supposed to mean. Whatever the case, I think I’m slowly starting to figure it all out.

Charlotte Hatherley
I Want You To Know
TBA (2007)

The Adam and Joe show on XFM Radio is apparently no more. Why do I know or care about two guys I’d never heard of three days ago? Because during their last show on October 1, they played this—the first recorded output we’ve heard from Charlotte Hatherley’s next album. Please forgive the radio banter, it’s not easy to cut spoken stuff over the music unless you resort to a rather severe fade out. You’ll live.

The next album is currently untitled, but all the sound bits appear to be done—it’s recorded, mixed, mastered, whatever. Despite all this, you won’t likely hear any of it until December, when the first single hits the streets, and then the full album in February or March. As an aside, is it a normal thing to put out two singles before you release the album? That seems strange to me. Don’t expect a Stateside release for this album either, as the last album didn’t make any killer Go! Team-esque breakouts here. Hatherley will instead hit the road in Britain and rest-of-Europe for a good while, probably hit a couple of festivals, then make a break for Asia and Australia. In other words, if you want to see her live in the near future, best book that European vacation for the middle of next year.

Bill Withers
Lovely Day
Menagerie (1977)

It’s hard to remember now, especially when Weird Al Yankovic writes lyrics about buying fanny packs at the Gap, but there was a brief moment in time when the relatively conservative fashion at the Gap was ahead of the curve. I know this because in high school, many of us mercilessly taunted everything about the Gap—the clothes, the greeters, the commercials—and what do high school students do better than pissing in the face of what’s popular? The most recent trend of putting real songs in your commercials started with the likes of Volkswagen, Apple and the Gap (though none of those infamous campaigns will ever compare to the bizarre vision of Grace Jones shilling for Citroen). On the one hand, it means the time-honoured tradition of the commercial jingle is all but dead. As someone who has enjoyed compilations of American and German jingles from the golden age of television, I feel somewhat qualified to say this is a great loss. “Head On, apply directly to the forehead” might be forever lodged in your memory, but I’ll bet you won’t look too fondly on it twenty years from now. On the other hand, some commercials put relatively unknown artists on the map. The discussion about whether indie artists in commercials are selling out seems to be mostly old hat now, with commerce winning out over an arguably old-school perception of artistic integrity.

Of course, not all the songs ad producers pick are unknown quantities. In fact, most of the songs people remember years later aren’t the unknown songs that break out, but rather older songs by road-tested artists. Some of them are more obscure than others—everyone can spot, say, the Rolling Stones a mile away, but Nick Drake’s contribution to a Volkswagen commercial snuck up on people, leading to a resurgence of interest in what was a relatively low-profile artist. Somewhere in between lies Bill Withers. Coming back to the Gap, one of the best commercials they put together was a one-off spot called “Khaki Soul,” featuring “Lovely Day.” Withers is one of those artists whose songs are more famous than he is. Covered, sampled and played over numerous commercials, Withers’ music has remained just outside the spotlight for years, and an entire generation of people—including me, once upon a time—now know songs like “Just The Two Of Us” and “Lean On Me” without even knowing the name Bill Withers.

An addendum: in the late 80s, “Lovely Day” was used in a British television commercial (showing that this sort of thing has been happening for years, though not in nearly the same numbers as now it seems). To capitalize on the song’s second life, a remix was released, and Withers appeared on Top Of The Pops to promote the new release. Maybe not the best of ideas.