Glass Candy

Every so often I will give a general summary of a band I have been following and with whom I have fallen in love. The first such overview is of Glass Candy, a quirky, chameleon-like project formed in Portland, Oregon, in 1996 and consisting of Vancouver, Washington singer Ida No and producer Jimmy Jewel, of Austin. I first discovered the duo in 2008 during my perennial search for well-written, more song-like alternatives to the inane repetitiveness and abrasiveness of late '90s house and trance and their twenty-first century derivatives, which still seemed to dominate the mainstream dance music scene. Their work is available through Italians Do It Better, a fine New Jersey label which releases records by other exciting, Italo-disco-influenced outfits such as Chromatics, Desire, Farah, Mirage, and Professor Genius.

While the band's earlier releases feature such rough-hewn stompers as Excite Bike, their later endeavours include such sumptuous romps as Poison or Remedy and Miss Broadway, a splendid cover of the '70s disco hit by Belle Epoque. Rather like Blondie, Dead Or Alive, and other new wave artists who probably constitute their chief source of inspiration, Glass Candy have evolved from their raw, dissonant (yet somehow concentrated and alarming) punk roots into a glamorous, alluring carnival of melodic disco. At times the band even venture into hip hop territory, as with the irresistibly funky Geto Boys, while they show off their skill in penning ethereal Italo-disco anthems with the haunting, otherworldly gambol of Life After Sundown. Meanwhile, No's soft but whispery vocals careen seductively (if at times off-key) over the rich, scintillating textures of Jimmy Jewel's gorgeous orchestration. To double the pleasure, simply see the band in concert and marvel at No's writhing, serpentine dance moves juxtaposed with Jewel's dynamic assault on the keyboards.

It is refreshing finally to discover music which simultaneously boasts clever lyrics, elegant arrangements, and dance-friendly spiritedness--classically structured, well-written dance songs which do not require drug use to be enjoyed. Both Glass Candy's earlier dance-punk and later disco incarnations please the listener since both boast appealing chords, arpeggios, notes, and so on (while remaining bizarre and twisted), but it is a pleasure to follow an artist growing out of its chaotic roots into a refined and luxurious creature.



Image ©2009 John Londono

Review of 'My Guilty Pleasure'

Well, what can I say? The title says it all. Sally Shapiro are exactly that. Yet, why should I feel guilty? They (for Sally Shapiro are actually a duo consisting of Swedish producer Johan Agebjörn and a mysterious, unidentified female vocalist) make me feel exquisite. Sally Shapiro are doing with their second full-length studio album, My Guilty Pleasure, exactly what Sandra should have done with her most recent album, Back To Life. And these albums were both released the same year. It seems as though those who emulate early Italo-disco artists sometimes outdo them. Recall my previous post on Faith, Power and Glory, and how VNV Nation have managed to evolve without sounding poncey or lacklustre. In the present case, I find, the featured artist has reversed the trend toward boring adult contemporary music among older artists.

Because I adore Sally Shapiro, let me save the best for last and begin with the weakest point of their new album. The second single from the album, Love in July, is an insipid mistake with lyrics such as, "give me your love in July . . . you make the sun shine" and "dry off the tears in my eyes. Don't let me down. I'll be around". Now, normally such lyrics actually have a perennial appeal--they reflect that strange heartache one feels when one has lost a true love and feels actual physiological effects. One can only relate to such a simple message if one has felt truly excruciating loss. These messages, however, could have been communicated other than through an irregular dubstep bass drum, which, hideous to begin with, suggests an escape into some aggressive, epileptic, drug-fuelled ecstasy. Conveyed with the right melody, chords, notes, etc., they can move one. It's a dicey and difficult balance to achieve. The essential qualities of the composition have potential--they were simply perverted by the style of the bass drum.

Seemingly conventional lyrics are actually what is most appealing about Sally Shapiro. A work can sound burdensome, pretentious, ineffective with cryptic or pretentious lyrical content, which is why simple and straightforward messages work well with the right melody and orchestration. And Sally Shapiro basically achieve this effect throughout the rest of My Guilty Pleasure. Listening to Dying in Africa, I initially scorned the writer as provincial for fixating on a lover "even if they're dying in Africa", but I came to think how profound a singular love must be to distract one from issues of global importance. This particular song reminds the listener how magnetic, how immobilizing, an object of love can be, how easily one can shift one's priorities. As an elegantly punctuated bassline glides in the background, the vocalist sings, "I never knew anybody could make me cry like this". Well, I suppose that in Sweden we have time to analyse our lovelorn tears, but it sounds so divine.

Finally, there is My Fantasy. When I think of this song, I remember how excited I was that North Americans received it as the b-side of the single He Keeps Me Alive before the Europeans got a hold of it commercially in any form. Now, when I spoke of straightforward lyrics, I was thinking about this song. It is not only optimistic, but playful, seductive, even sinister, perhaps because of the minor keys. The vocalist muses, "I call you up for a rendezvous, another night with just me and you. / I feel so warm when I meet your eyes. I'm flyin' high somewhere in the skies". It is one of those moments where, in a complex, almost inscrutable tone, she expresses a powerful self-confidence in relation to her lover. The song presents an urgent yet mysterious message of craving, coasting along a classic melody, syncopated bass guitar, punching snares, and a relentless four-to-the-floor bass drum.

Sally Shapiro's new album--well, both of Sally Shapiro's albums, really--offer relief from the more pretentious forms of indie music which pile gratuitous amounts of obscure references onto their works; they effectively convey messages about the most basic and important human emotions juxtaposed with the sleekest, most modern aesthetics available in contemporary music.



Image ©2009 Paper Bag

Review of 'No. 2'

Swedish band JJ released their first full-length album, No. 2, on the Swedish record label Sincerely Yours in July, 2009. The moment I first played the album, I was smitten. With the recent incorporation of dance-oriented sounds into indie music, which has broken down the unnecessary and artificial barrier between dance and rock music, new bands have poured forth a cornucopia of works which reflect the aesthetics of disco, electro, and synthpop. I will not expound on how this trend may already be five or so years old, because I believe good music is perennial and that it should be an ongoing experiment.

No. 2 shows off a set of sweet songs with soft cadences characterising a sound termed by some as Balearic disco (as distinct from late 1980s and early 1990s Balearic beat), which, at least in its twenty-first century manifestation, serves as a sort of traditionally-written after-thought to the harder, more monotonous sounds heard in the clubs of Spain's Las Islas Baleares, specifically the famous party resort of Ibiza. Most of the songs feature unassuming vocals which coast gently and carefully from key to key without vulgar vocal acrobatics, while a loping four-to-the-floor beat trips lightly in the background, interrupted occasionally by an invasive yet playful conga drum. Meanwhile, eerie violins create a fantastic, ethereal backdrop. The final effect is a bouncey, luxurious romp through the subtropics reminiscent of other Balearic and Cosmic disco acts such as Norway's Hans-Peter Lindstrøm or Prins Thomas.

Listening to No. 2, one is reminded of Culture Club's Do You Really Want To Hurt Me or Erasure's Blue Savannah; Masterplan even sounds uncannily like a mid-tempo track from the latter band's 1997 album, Cowboy. The wash of plaintive, distant vocals, light guitars, shrill strings, and soft drums create a refreshingly unpretentious, care-free atmosphere which anybody can enjoy over a mint julip on a humid summer day, or even over a double Long Island iced-tea at one of the more daring discotheques of the night.

Image ©2009 Sincerely Yours

Review of 'Three Monkeys'

Since I allow a certain minority of my posts to focus on film, I am going to discuss one which I recently had the pleasure of viewing.

I first heard about Three Monkeys, an acclaimed 2008 Turkish film directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan, from my boss, a traveller to Turkey who had read about it in a cinema magazine and who craved to see it because of her experiences in that country. There are so many layers and themes to this film that I shall not attempt to offer a comprehensive analysis, but I shall flesh out some of the themes which impressed me most.

To summarise the film succintly and without disclosing the ending, a wealthy politician, Servet, accidentally kills a pedestrian with his car and convinces his driver, Eyüp, to go to prison on his behalf in exchange for a lump sum of money as well as a continued salary as his driver after his release. Meanwhile, Hacer, Eyüp's wife, urges her son, İsmail, to seek employment for the summer, but when he suggests driving children back and forth between school, they realise they do not have the money to invest in such employment. İsmail suggests that Hacer should request an advance allotment of Servet's promised sum with which to buy the car, and, after Hacer makes the request, Servet drives her home, where İsmail discovers them having sex through the keyhole of the doorknob. İsmail confronts his mother and, when she denies having sex with Servet, with whom she has fallen in love, smacks her across the face several times in sudden, heated disgust; upon his release, Eyüp returns home and, eventually suspecting Hacer's affair, boorishly manhandles her in bed and uses intimidation to break her down into tears of confession. A later revelation suddenly implicates her son in a criminal act, and the above events soon become resolved into a bittersweet, uncertain finale.

When I first left the theatre, I gathered that Servet had promised Hacer the advance sum on the condition that Hacer should have sex with him. I still suspect this is the case, because at one critical point in the film, Servet tells Eyüp upon the latter's release that he should feel he deserves the entire sum (even though Servet advanced a portion of it secretly to Hacer), stating that his family has surely paid enough for it. Eyüp gives a quizzical look at this comment. Now, this made me wonder whether Servet was coyly suggesting his condition on Hacer's request without actually revealing it, graciously allowing Eyüp the full sum after his release from prison, as expected. If such is the case, perhaps the most tragic experience in the film is that of Hacer. (1) She must prostitute herself to the family's sponsor in order to gain her son employment and invest in the family income, (2) her son assaults her for doing so, even though it is to fulfil his own request, (3) her husband bullies her for doing so, even though he himself has lied to protect a killer, gone to prison, and risked his family's reputation and his own employability in exchange for the very same thing--money--(4) her seductor--the family's sponsor--abandons her just as she has fallen in love with him out of loneliness and unhappiness with her own life, and, finally, (5) her own son commits a criminal act (which I leave unstated) just as reprehensible if not worse than having sex for money.

In a sort of paradox, Hacer can please those around her only by displeasing them; the men in her life place certain expectations on her only to punish her when she violates them in order to fulfil other expectations which they have placed on her. She is stretched in opposite directions by different characters with conflicting demands which she cannot fulfil without contradiction. The film reveals the irrational and unfair expectations placed on women like Hacer in a patriarchal society as well as the infuriating hypocrisy and self-righteousness of the fathers, sons, and money-makers who often commit more abysmal acts themselves--such as murder--in order to obtain the same ends. It is impossible to communicate the thrust of this observation unless the reader has watched the film in its entirety.

A noteworthy observation about Three Monkeys is that it is a film created by Turks who recognise the lamentable situation of people like Hacer. Essentially, the provenance of the film shows the self-critical attitude of the filmmakers, who are aware of the corruption and social injustice which grips their own society and who candidly--and with provocative cinematic grace--expose these problems for the rest of the world to see.

Review of 'Of Faith, Power and Glory'

The first band to enjoy the benefit of a review on Discoasylum is the inimitable Irish-British band VNV Nation, whose new album, Of Faith, Power and Glory, was released 19 June in Europe and 23 June in North America.

I've enjoyed VNV Nation's soulful futurepop about nine years now, and while they follow a definite formula, their work has evolved into a more mature style without coming across as poncey or lacklustre. Whereas their earlier releases, such as 1995's Advance and Follow, satisfy the listener's craving for highly punctuated, atonal, and even aggressive stompers, Of Faith, Power and Glory offers a respite from some of this earlier cynicism, presenting melodic soundscapes with often optimistic messages. Ronan Harris's adroit, almost gospel-inflected vocals, characterised largely by ominous minor keys, glide smoothly over an infectious four-to-the-floor rhythm in Tomorrow Never Comes, a poignant commentary on the potential self-destruction of the human race, while Defiant bursts forth with shimmering bass and inspiring chords, challenging fatalism and advocating the importance of personal agency.

VNV Nation's seventh studio album succeeds in creating a set of invigorating yet thought-provoking songs which are both a delight to dance to and to ruminate on. And, besides, they even give some of their songs Latin names, which thoroughly pleases a linguistics nerd such as myself.



Image ©2009 ~Karezoid

A Forum for Discussing Innovative Electronic Music

In this very first post at Discodiamonds, I’d like briefly to share my goals for this weblog. Basically, I created it as a forum to discuss new electronic, independent, alternative, and dance music, because for me it has been hard to find good music in North America, even through the internet. (One must constantly struggle to separate the wheat from the chaff, it would seem.) I would like this blog to serve as a means of spreading the word about new music and helping others discover the exciting bands, albums, singles, EPs, and remixes that I have discovered.

For me, the idea of a forum focussed strictly on one topic is too limiting, so at times I will broach discussions pertaining to other subjects such as art, literature, film, fashion, architecture, urban planning, politics, and world affairs, attempting to show wherever possible how the themes discussed in these areas relate to music in terms of aesthetics, content, and popular culture.

Finally, while the content of this blog largely reflect my own opinions, I welcome the opinions of others in a free discussion about how music makes us feel.

I hope you enjoy your visit to this site and discover something truly refreshing and inspiring.