Oopsy: Archive's Londinium

Was looking through the 'B' CDs this morning and found, yep, one last 'A' CD.

Since Massive Attack's Mezzanine came out, I've written extensively about how trip hop, as a genre, had run its course. Save for aforementioned Massive Attack, a glut of trip hop had been released following the success of the various Bristol acts, and we were thus introduced to a whole new wave of coffee table music suitable for retail stores, bistros and nicer dental clinics.

Lost in that fat was Archive. Londinium, their debut, was lost to the excess. This was undeserved, because, as an album, Londinium is much more cohesive and flowing than the majority of trip hop albums, with uniformity perhaps its only fault.

Londinium works mostly because the production's just sharp enough to capture interest, but not to the point of being jarring. The group behind this are as equally skilled on their string arrangements ("Organ Song" is a great string piece)as they are on their computer programming, and thus Londonium sounds more mature than the tier two Bristol trip hop acts like Purple Penguin or the Sneaker Pimps. Unlike other trip hop outfits, Archive aren't overly dependent on their vocalists, who, despite doing a good job, don't have the signature of a Beth Gibbons or a Martine Topley Bird to make them quintessential to the product.

It's a shame, then, that Archive never mustered more attention than they did. The album stands up to much of the 'classics' of that period, and it's too bad they never got a better push from Island Records than they did.

Two-fer: Abba's Greatest Hits and Art of Noise's Drum and Bass Collection

The last and probably the least: here's the two remaining 'A' CDs I have in my collection, and I've been avoiding both like the plague. In an effort to get onto the more interesting 'B' CDs, I figured I'd just get both of these out of the way at once. I'll probably need to start it off with this caveat: I haven't re-listened to either in any significant way, apart from scanning "Gimme Gimme Gimme" after being so infatuated with Madonna's "Hung Up," and giving the Art of Noise remix comp the once over to see what little I could remember of the band.

I originally pilfered this Abba greatest hits collection from my parents, who had in turn seized onto it from my sister. My folks were modest Abba fans when we were growing up, and thus it was hard not to be at least familiar with these songs (although I'm still much more familiar with Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett and Teresa Tang). I'd have a somewhat nostaligic vibe for Abba, but I don't ever recall ever seeing my parents dance in the kitchen, sway their hips, or doing anything remotely close to what Abba's context usually is.

And that usual context is exactly why I, instead of my parents, have this compilation - I used to DJ weddings. DJing around clubs and lounges in town is generally an irritating affair (although an extremely easy and well-paid one at that), but DJing weddings is where the demands and the money really rolls in. Whereas I used to make about $175 plus amenities max a night in a lounge, I'd make double that for half the time DJing a wedding. For that, concessions were made for our typical "No Requests" policy, and thus: Abba.

There's something about Abba that's just so amazingly catchy and infectious that it's somewhat of a universal phenomenon (Muriel's Wedding is ample proof). When they named this compilation Gold, they weren't kidding: this stuff is shiny and bright, and, used in the wrong context, can end up being just as cheesy. Abba can range anywhere from a gold earring to a gold chain around some balding fat guy in a sweat suit. Taken just as music, Abba's the purest, catchy pop as it comes; taken as phenomenon, Abba's as potent as disease.

I had the same recollection of Art of Noise. The only real memory I have of Art of Noise are their covers of "Peter Gunn" and Prince's "Kiss" with Tom Jones, both of which I've readily dismissed as the cheesiest of cheese.

That said, it's a bit obvious that I don't own The Drum and Bass Collection because I'm a big Art of Noise fan. Rather, I have this CD because (i) it was free and (ii) I was fascinated with drum and bass at the time (1996). Drum and bass seemed like the last completely unique genre of electronic music to me, with little in the way of forerunners save for some polyrhythmic jazz drumming. Thus, this collection, a remix of the Art of Noise by some of the more famed drum and bass producers of the time (largely of Goldie's Metalheadz crew and some LTJ Bukem affiliations (PFM, Lightfoot), though neither Goldie nor LTJ appear), was intriguing, and it certainly didn't hurt that there's little to no traces of Art of Noise in the least on any of their remixes.

Scanning through it ten years after the fact, though, is a funny chore. As much as Art of Noise will forever be relegated to the 80's, the drum and bass of this compilation smacks of the 90's, and as nostalgically cheesy as the Art of Noise may be, the remixes on this comp are equally as guilty.

American Analog Set and White Magic's Songs of Hurt and Healing EP

For whatever reason, Tylenol felt it needed to up its presence in the indie hipster demographic (yep!) and released this split EP in a variety of magazines in 2004/2005, providing further proof to the world that the pharmaceutical companies want to increase their deathgrip stranglehold on you, me and everybody we know (kidding!). The 6 song EP features three songs by American Analog Set, three songs by White Magic. I've never heard of White Magic, always identified this EP with the AASet, and thus here we are in the tail end of the "A" reviews.

That said, I hadn't ever listened to this EP until this morning. I've avoided the American Analog Set over the years, associated it with the passive/passive melodramatics of the indie hipster cardigan set. I tried listening to Golden Band without much success, lumped the AASet with that bulk of fragile-pop that seems like it'll break with too much attention. I'm a fan of the bedroom recordings as much as the next guy, but this was stuff that needed a nightlight. To listen to an EP actually called "Songs of Hurting and Healing," then....

...It would've been funny if they could've stuck with the Tylenol joke, but the EP's pretty much what I've already described, and the three songs by the AASet are as light weight as expected, and, thus, forgettable. I had to go back and re-listen to it one song into the latter half of the album to try and remember the AASet's three songs...and that was only ten minutes past, give or take.

The White Magic songs are related, but more adventurous. The group turns in a psych-folk set reminiscent of a less melodic Animal Collective, nods to the Velvet Underground in check. What results is slightly more interesting, though the songs are ultimately too meandering and devoid of premise to be worthwhile of re-listening.

It's a good thing, then, that this EP came out for free. Still not sure as to what Tylenol was trying to accomplish, as I'm quite certain that the pill won't heal whatever pains fans of the AASet or White Magic may have - that shit can't be healed by acetaminophen. Unfortunately (and let's hope they figure this out soon), they probably can't be healed by the AASet or White Magic, either.

the Art Ensemble of Chicago's Les Stances a Sophie

The Art Ensemble is a heady topic to write about, and any one of their landmark albums, of which Les Stances is, makes it even more difficult. Here you have one of the foremost free jazz/experimental music outfits of the past four decades (probably of all time), a group that theses and books are written about. For a blog like this to pass judgment on Les Stances, then....

...Well, to some extent, it's kinda easy: Les Stances is certifiably a masterpiece. That's a no-brainer. The soundtrack (haven't seen the film - it's a French new wave flick, coinciding with the Art Ensemble's temporary relocation to Paris in the early 70s) is the Art Ensemble at their most accessible, but with the bubbling tension of experimentation, free jazz noise, and ethno-rhythms that dominate the rest of the Art Ensemble's catalog.

The focus of Les Stances is easily "Theme de Yo Yo," featuring Fontella Bass, who had a pop hit with "Rescue Me" in the 60s and who was married to Art Ensemble member Lester Bowie at the time. Bass belts it out on "Theme de Yo Yo," which is the quintessential funk-jazz hybrid of all time. Bass rumbles "Your love is like an orwhale," with Bowie, Roscoe Mitchell and Joseph Jarman following suit with free jazz blurts, shaping the song into the growliest of growls, the most gutteral of funk. The song, quite simply, can not be perfected further.

The rest of the album is more along the experimental vein, with the Art Ensemble tackling 17th century classical composition. "Variations Sur Un Theme de Monteverdi" is what the title implies, a performance of "Lasciatemi Morire" from Monteverdi's Lamento d'Arianna. The first version is more cut and dry, an almost gothic performance of a classical piece. The second version is a New Orleans funeral romp, still tinted with darkness, but with a boisterous party atmosphere, a constant theme in much of the Art Ensemble's work - the re-shaping of more 'classical' notions of jazz into modern experimentation.

Or at least I think it is - the Art Ensemble's too complex to summate in a few paragraphs. Couple what I just wrote with the Art Ensemble's involvement with the AACM, American race politics of the time, an arguable Afro-American renaissance of the time...this could go on for days, if not years. Les Stances is a good place to start with the Art Ensemble, if only because "Theme de Yo Yo" could easily be a pop hit on its own (if not for its incredible length), but to start unravelling the album further would require me getting an academic research grant. Until then, check this out: Joseph Jarman's opened a Karate dojo. From preeminent jazz experimentalist to Karate Kid...anything is possible with the Art Ensemble, I suppose.

A:xus' Soundtrack for Life

It's always surprising when an album as diverse as A:xus' Soundtrack For Life hails from Canada, land of gazillion-member-bands-that-could've-done-fine-with-two-people bands. Our country's not particularly known for musical diversity; even with its critical acclaim, the glut of new Canadian bands all pretty much sound the same. This was particularly so when Soundtrack for Life came out half a decade back.

While Soundtrack for Life comfortable sits within one genre (light electronica), A:xus (nee Austin Bascom of Toronto) explores the four corners of said genre, and delivers up a surprisingly mature debut the likes of which our country ain't seen in awhile. It's all here - dancefloor jazz, breaks, deep house, electro - served up in your quintessential coffee table lounge format. Soundtrack for Life can be pedestrian as electronic music, but taken as pop music, it's well-rounded and thought-out, much more so than usual rough-hewn debuts.

Bascom really hit the nail on the head with the lead single, "Callin' U," a cover of Jevetta Steele's track on the Baghdad Cafe soundtrack. Instead of the soul torcher that the original was, Bascom updates it to a subtle jazzy samba number, and Namoi N'Sembi supplies amongst the best vocals of this sort, within Canada and without. The other single, his deep house cover of "When I Fall in Love," was the huge hit, the UK crowd apparently never tiring of Esthero, who does a much better job on this track (and on her other guest appearances with Ian Pooley and DJ Krush) than on her own material.

The rest of the album is thoroughly pleasant, the only stinker being the cheesy "You Make Me Feel Like (Peace, Love and Happiness)," which plays out like a Hallmark card. This is thoughtful Sunday brunch stuff, undemanding yet deserving of attention. It still feels odd that our generally suburban country can produce something this uniquely urban, so maybe it's the context that makes Soundtrack for Life so enjoyable, but either way, it is.

Tsuji Ayano's Haru wa Touki Yume no Hate ni

I first heard Tsuji Ayano (NPR feature here) in Osaka, killing time before catching the train. Her first EP had just come out on Kitchen Records, which had been previously known for more famed Japanese garage rock releases from the likes of the 5,6,7,8's. I gave pretty much everything on the listening booths a shot (including a CD of some car or stereo commercial (couldn't distinguish) of Ryuchi Sakamoto's), most of it being innocuous J-pop. Ayano stood out of the pack immediately, a girl and her ukulele. I bought the EP, thought it was a charming postcard-souvenir from a horrible trip, didn't think I'd ever hear any other music from Ayano, and somehow lost the EP somewhere along the way.

It was a huge surprise for me, then, that Ayano blew up huge in Japan shortly after. In my first few weeks back in Asia following, Ayano was on the radio. Most of the time, this would've been a mistaken occurrence: Ayano's voice is that same little Japanese girl voice that is pretty typical of anything left of centre, particularly of the Shibuya stuff. But that ukulele is some of the most fucked up shit Asia's ever heard, and stuck out like a sore thumb immediately (it's perhaps telling that Ayano's rise to fame was due to soundtrack work for a Ghibli Studios cartoon).

It's odd that any music like that would make it to mainstream radio in North America, much less in Asia, where over-produced lite pop reigns supreme (somebody's got to feed new material to the karaoke bars). I headed over to the CD stores and sure enough, Ayano was huge, but in a kind of novel way akin to...well, akin to nothing. It's an oddity, to be sure.

I picked up this album (the translated title I swiped from an online CD store site; there's nary a word of English on the packaging), which is primarily a re-recording of the aforementioned EP on a major label. Most of the songs have been taken from their no-frills ukulele-only versions into more produced versions, complete with backing band, orchestra, etc. It's still charming, though not as charming: it approximates accessibility a little more, and thus the sheer eccentricity of the matter diminished. The better songs on the album, then, are those that repeat on the same: Ayano and her ukulele, sometimes backed up with a sole trumpet.

If Ayano can make it big in Asia, it's a topsy turvy world. Ayano's fame is a bit affirming, and should give every oddball in the world some hope. Will ukulele players make it big on American Idol? Probably not, but at the very least they'll be big in Japan.

Richard Ashcroft's Alone With Everybody

To get this out of the way: I never really listened to the Verve. I liked "Bittersweet Symphony," maybe listened to that album one afternoon while stuck at my sister's. That's the extent of my experience with the Verve, and thus I'm not going to give any insightful comparisons between Richard Ashcroft's solo output and that.

I can't really remember if I bought Alone With Everybody first or the first Unkle album, which Ashcroft appears on (and does a tremendous job on "Lonely Soul"), but the general theme of what I associate with the man runs constant: strings. The opening strings on "A Song For the Lovers" is a tremendous rush, and was enough to entice me into the rest of the album.

Luckily, said strings feature prominently throughout the rest of the album, and used to great effect (what is it with Brits and their love of anthems?). Apart from aforementioned single, Ashcroft delivers a great affectionate haze throughout the first 1/3 of Alone With Everybody, with it only succumbing to twangy slide guitar in the last 1/3 (thus making that portion a lot less enjoyable). The first 1/3 features solid, yet self-conscious, love songs, and though one could easily see Ashcroft giving into melodrama, it's well-balanced here, and more warming than cliched (the segue from "A Song for Lovers" into "I Get My Beat" is quite effective). The rest of the album's not bad, but doesn't quite live up to the peak that the album sets for itself, particularly on "New York."

For the most part, then, Alone With Everybody's perhaps a little too caustic, touches on perhaps a little bit of self-importance, and maybe a little inconsistent, but enjoyable nonetheless. I've no idea how it stands up next to the Verve, but the first two songs are enough to stand on their own.

Active Ingredients' Titration

I have no hesitation in saying that Chad Taylor is my favorite jazz drummer - nay, my favorite drummer period - around today, since hearing his work on the Chicago Underground albums, wherein he outshines Rob Mazurek at times by leaps and bounds, and his work on pop albums like Sam Prekop's solo material. Taylor's a versatile machine, subtle in approach but with surgical precision.

My curiosity piqued when I had heard Taylor finally pieced together his own outfit, Active Ingredients. The group features three Chicago players, three NYC players, and Taylor - a good overview of his work in the Windy City and his current work having relocated to New York. It's largely what one would expect, modern compositions heavily dependent on free atonal solos (and thus not strictly free jazz in the purist sense), but with Taylor leading the charge, instead of the usual frontman trumpet or sax.

Taylor's playing here is meticulous and aggressive, often working in differing time schemes, but still understated and minimalist when compared to more famous Chicago drummers like John Herndon (probably not the most fair of comparisons, but whatever...). His pieces are set up to provide healthy frameworks for the horn players to blast through, with David Boykin (tenor sax) giving the greatest of perforances here, particularly on "Slate" and "Modern Mythology," matching Taylor's balanced mix of technical and emotive (this was sometimes a problem with the Chicago Underground, as I've always found Mazurek to be more a technical player (though a great one at that), until they released the amazing Slon).

Titration's a worthy debut for Taylor, providing just enough time for Taylor to showcase his own playing without being overbearing. With less talented players surrounding him, Active Ingredients might not have worked, as Taylor's understated enough to require more push in the front line. Here, Taylor's found the perfect accompaniment and cohesion, making Active Ingredients one of the most exciting jazz outfits around today.

the Angel's No Gravity

I've been procrastinating about reviewing No Gravity, and have oscillated between reviewing this album and the other album the Angel had produced under the name "60 Channels." I've listened to both a number of times now, with nothing grabbing me from either. Both are quite boring, with No Gravity perhaps being the more hip-hop of the two, with heavy inflections of dub throughout.

Neither album is particularly noteworthy, apart from context. The Angel remains one of few female producers in the world of both hip hop and electronica, and certainly one of few female producers that have been at it for over a decade (nothing of note, though, apart from working with Monday Michiru and a few soundtracks). Negating that minute point of interest, though, and what remains is dull. It's not that No Gravity or any of the other work is mediocre (in fact, her remix of Donald Byrd's "Kofi" on The New Groove: Blue Note Remixed was quite good), it's just that it's overly average, with nothing that sets it apart. I've been procrastinating about writing about either, because neither album provides anything noteworthy enough to discuss.

Animal On Wheels' Designs and Mistakes

Animals on Wheels' Designs and Mistakes is largely full of the latter, the largest mistake of which was to release the album in 1997, at the tail end of a glut of experimental electronic music. Whereas Ninja Tune had once been the forerunner of innovation in the genre, it was merely playing catch-up with Designs and Mistakes, what with Squarepusher et al already having dumped album after album in the two-three years preceeding. Simply put, Designs and Mistakes, at the time, just seemed like more of the same...boring.

Remove it from that context, however, and Designs and Mistakes isn't that bad. It's surely lifted from the blueprint of Squarepusher's Feed Me Weird Things, but perhaps done a little better. Instead of relying on fusion jazz, as Squarepusher does, often to detriment, Animals on Wheels has a broader sample. This is the most effective on "Loath" and "Eggshell," where the more erratic and frenetic beats of the genre are paired with the atonal jazz phrasings, hinting at the fact that, ahem, maybe free jazz would've made the most sensible (and rewarding) sample with this stuff.

That, then, surely makes Designs and Mistakes one of the first albums to prove one of the underlying assumptions of the Clutterer: music can not only be salvagable from its overlying context, but can also be improved. Now if only it weren't so generally boring as well....