Don't Stop

With the recent crop of female indie and electronic pop artists, there seems to be a longing to embrace a multimedia music experience. Many of these artists, such as Róisín Murphy, Ladyhawke, Yelle, Elly Johnson (of La Roux), the well established Kylie Minogue, and especially the inimitable chanteuse Annie Lennox (despite her veteran status and not being a 'recent' arrival on the scene), exult in the harmonious melding of music, fashion, videography, and publishing. The surprising miracle in this trend is that the quality of songwriting not only thrives, but excels. So it is with Norwegian singer-songwriter Annie in her second album, Don't Stop, which was released 19 October in the UK, 26 October in Norway, and 16 November in the U.S.

The album consists of an assortment of shoegaze and new wave-tinged pop tunes featuring jangling guitars, sweeping synthesisers, whispering vocals, eerie melodies, and poignant lyrics about love and loss. All throughout, the listener becomes aware of the intelligent combination of instrumentation, lyrics, song structure, and stylistic trends. However, each song stands out as an individual, memorable tune which can be listened to as easily in the living room as in a really cool dance club in Berlin or San Francisco--one is almost glad that the album's release was delayed a year due to record label issues. The chief commercial single seems to be I Know UR Girlfriend Hates Me, which recalls Top 40 artists such as Lady GaGa, but the rest of the album--such as I Can't Let Go--smacks uncannily of edgier material by the Ting Tings or Magic Wands. Perhaps the most standout track is the ethereal Songs Remind Me Of You, which shows not only raw demo video footage, funky fashion, and trance-inspired hi-nrg synthpop, but also a similar theme to that of Erasure's Phantom Bride:

Once upon a time there was a girl
Met a boy that said he'd change the world.
Promises he only made for me
Vanished into what he could not be.

Annie leaves the listener gasping, panting for fresh air after a frenetic display on the dance-floor, all the while sending the simple, cynical message of hope and betrayal. Don't Stop shows a smart combination of lyrical wit, orchestral elegance, and sweet, soft vocal techniques; it is a refreshing reprieve from the whiny, banal conventions of Top 40 R&B and a markedly androgynous retreat away from the hypersexual, hyperfeminine stars which dominate the U.S. pop charts.

Phantom Bride EP

Inimitable synthpop duo Erasure, consisting of keyboard wizard Vince Clarke and soulful vocalist Andy Bell, released the Phantom Bride EP 12 October 2009, realising a fourth single from their best-selling album, The Innocents. The original version of Phantom Bride not only possesses a sweeping melody and sophisticated arrangements which are timeless--epic--in their appeal, but it also serves as a social commentary which is uncannily relevant today. Come on. You have no excuse to like La Roux but hate Erasure.

As always, I will look first at the worst parts of the work. And please note that the EP is definitely worth buying, since most of the tracks are delicious--and, besides, every purveyor of melodic synthpop markets itself with dated and generic club mixes for the average Corona drinker to gyrate to.

The EP is plagued with generic, clubby dance-floor fillers which cannot be liked even if one is drunk--or, if I can like them after a few drinks, it is only because I am drunk enough to lower my standards. The worst offender is the obnoxiously over-driven, silly Wayne G and Porl Young 'Betty and Ford' mix and mix edit of the venerable Chains of Love, which consists of a stupidly concussive bass drum drowning out a fart-like and insipid bass guitar (in typical club-shit tradition), and inane, repetitious piano riffs which recall banal early '90s pop house. This track is an offense to all of the moderated, precisely punctuated, restrained, rigid, formal, flamenco-influenced, suspense-driven, weird, quirky, otherworldly synthpop sensibilities for which I believe Vince Clarke stands. Thank goodness it was relegated to a promotion-only edition of the EP; it means you'll never find it in the shops, and, to find it, you'll actually have to hunt for a copy on the internet. The second offender is the Wayne G and Andy Allder mixes of the inviolable A Little Respect, the best song ever written, which forces me to re-examine my stance on capital punishment. This sublunary remix is a generic hi-nrg/trance perversion of a perfectly sublime, soaring anthem; it suffers from immaturity, impatience, and attention deficit-hyperactive disorder, and so do its promotion-only edit and dub mix. Less disappointing are the Almighty mixes of Chains of Love, including the CD-only 'Essential' and digital-only 'Definitive' mixes, which show a melodic and well-orchestrated, if boorishly thumping, rendition of the song.

But these are the butcher-tracks of money-hungry remixers and record labels who belie the original genius of the artist. Let us now focus our attention on the complementary interpretations, those which take heed of the original conception; let us return to the world of good pop song-writing, rock 'n' roll edginess, gospel-inflected, almost spiritual, vocals, mantric basslines, and cynical, world-weary British savvy:

She was a shy girl from a lonely street. She had no job to do and no friends to meet.
She'd sit in silence in her rented room, dream of her childhood and invented truths.
And in her mind she'd drift away--a secret place to steal away.
[ . . . ].
He was a good boy from the other side of town, said he could treat her right, said he could win her round.
Her morning sickness and the kick inside. The phantom kisses of the phantom bride.

Not only does the original version of Phantom Bride exhibit lavish, elegantly punctuated riffs, but it poignantly exposes the plight of the disabused single mother, unexpected pregnancy, and abandonment by a seemingly 'good boy'. Perhaps one of the reasons the song is so popular among the fanbase is the feminist subtext and the intimate portrait of a young, well-meaning woman who has sown nothing but woe and regret in her eagerness for love and salvation from her mundane, working-class world. Andy Bell, functioning almost as an oracle, conveys the story of this woman with eery empathy, as if she were one's next-door neighbour. And this is a good thing, since it reminds us of other people's secret forlornness.

The other mixes are mediocre and more contemporary than the thumping, mainstream mixes. Joebot's "Ounce of Bounce" mix of the gorgeous Heart of Stone is a choppy and disjointed convulsion--a confusing attempt at British urban beats; Frankmusik's 'Ghostly Groom' dub mix, despite being somewhat grating and frenetic, and a dub mix no less, is more catchy, bouncy, and melodic; Phantom Bride (Dogmatix's 12'' Tearless Mix) is weirdly abstracted from the original with an incongruous melody and psychedelic trance sound; the Plastic Operator mix of Chains of Love is very pleasing, preserving much of the original melody, chords, and vocals of the original version in a slick, quick, relentless glide which balances low-frequency basslines, middle-frequency strings, and high-frequency twiddle-dee-doo-dee sounds in a wash of glory, especially in the last two minutes of the track; but the diamond in the crown of the Phantom Bride EP is a remix by Erasure themselves: Hallowed Ground (Vince Clarke's Big Mix). The track begins with an eery, almost inaudible, primeval chant followed by a faint recorded voice chanting "nothing has changed" and Andy singing: "Everybody's intent on killing someone / The streets are closed, and there's a kid on the run. / The bullets scream out from gun to gun. / Everybody's intent on being someone." The chorus is introduced by a sudden, alarming burst of bass drum, bass guitar, and middle-frequency synthesisers which echo eerily in the background.

If even for this one remix, which is truly an improvement on its original version (a very rare accomplishment), Phantom Bride EP is a delightful foray for Erasure until the much-anticipated release of their next album, as well as Andy Bell's latest solo release.

Desire

One of the blessings of recording music through an independent label, apparently, is the intimate camaraderie and collaboration between band members. This is certainly true of Italians Do It Better, perhaps my favourite new dance label. Producer Jimmy Jewel performs not only with Chromatics and Glass Candy, both of whom have released work through the label, but also with Desire, a new project he formed in Montreal with vocalist Megan Louise.

Desire's debut album, II, released 23 June, echoes the aesthetics of Jewel's other projects, offering understated, mysterious female vocals atop soft, pulsing rhythms and glimmering instrumentation. As if eschewing the discordant, broken-record barrage of more hardcore styles of dance music as well as the abstract, remote peak-and-trough wave structure of progressive trance, Desire embrace a classic verse-chorus song structure, strong melody, and alternating hooks; through this technique, they manage to avoid the inane simplicity of cheap, dust-bin electro or American Top 40 pop as well as the boring, burdensome complexity of more conceptual works in experimental music. A prime example of Desire's ear-catching motifs is the chorus to the infectious Miroir Miroir, a glowing masterwork of nu-disco which carries a simple refrain by relying cleverly on lines from a widely known folktale recorded by the Brothers Grimm: "Mirror, mirror on the wall / Who's the fairest of them all?" The coy lyrics combined with eerie, numinous background strings offer a dark yet playful commentary on vanity. A similarly tongue-in-cheek effect is achieved in If I Can't Hold You, which sets a frolicking bass drum to a melancholy requiem for a dead lover.

II's pop sensibility offers a refuge from more wearisome, "progressive" styles of music--a collection of catchy and accessible yet moody and sophisticated songs which are equally delightful to sing to, dance to, and ruminate on. It is a pleasure to discover yet another band (and I expect even more from Italians Do It Better) who reject the artificial division between traditional, poetic song structure and dance-friendliness, recognizing that the combination of these two only doubles the pleasure. The highest art, in Aristotle's view, combines a comical overtone with tragedy lurking at the core. In this way, Desire craft songs which show human warmth, thoughtfulness, and physicality while preserving the eccentricity and spontaneity that define dance music.



Image ©2009 Italians Do It Better

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