Bat for Lashes - Fur and Gold (2006)

1) Horse and I; 2) Trophy; 3) Tahiti; 4) What's a Girl to Do?; 5) Sad Eyes; 6) The Wizard; 7) Prescilla; 8) Bat's Mouth; 9) Seal Jubilee; 10) Sarah; 11) I Saw a Light

Welcome to the mystical world of Bat for Lashes - even though it's not quite the welcome you once might've thought it to be.

Key tracks: "Horse and I", "Trophy", "What's a Girl to Do?"

Time has unexpectedly removed some of the charm of Fur and Gold. Back in 2006 this was an incredibly exciting debut release from a new artist with a particularly characteristic touch to her music, and whose debut gave us the chance to peer into the musical fairytale world she called her own. Since then we've had many more Bat for Lashes releases which have built up on that initial excitement, and which have at the same time accidentally revealed just how one-note Natasha Khan's debut actually was - and in retrospect, just how much of its magic was reliant on two songs in particular. One of them, "Horse and I", is one of the defining debut album openers of the new millennium - a thrilling journey of a song that sets out Khan's entire ethos and manifesto and then crafts a world around those in just under three minutes, built on a small number of very particular elements (with a harpsichord of all things in the lead role) but marching on like a juggernaut, making for an incredibly powerful introduction. The other, "What's a Girl to Do?", takes those same ideas and marries them to a more traditional pop song format with the result coming across like a gothic nightmare take on Motown; with Khan's alluring personality, an instantly attention-demanding set of hooks and a swooning, theatrically bombastic chorus, as well a classic music video, it easily set itself out as one of 2006's best singles and still commands attention the moment the music player queues it up.

Beyond those songs Fur and Gold just isn't as superlative as it felt originally though, which is as strange as it is a little sad. Khan has a very particular vision for her music - all widescreen, dramatic and mystical, lyrics full of wild conjurations and bat lightning hearts - and in her later albums she's weaved those ideas into a multitude of sounds and styles that she now calls her own. Fur and Gold in comparison is all gothic gloom, crawling tempo and sparse arrangement where the lack of elements is as much of an instrument as the steady simple beats, strings, the occasional bass and Khan's keyboards are. Which isn't a bad formula to build songs upon and many of the cuts here - the hypnotic "Trophy", seductively sleazy "The Wizard", the Nick Cave -esque "Sarah", the quiet "Sad Eyes" - do well with it. It simply gets very similar very soon when there's little variety involved, which is all the more apparent towards the backside of the album when Khan has started to exhaust her bag of tricks, and what initially impressed now already seems rote. "Bat's Mouth" and "Seal Jubilee" already run on fumes, and the closing "I Saw a Light" is practically exhausting with its six-and-half minute duration and ends the album with by committing the cardinal sin of being boring. Khan has laid out a solid foundation for herself but the relative lack of range gets a little monotonous, and sonical shake-ups like "What's a Girl to Do" and the surprisingly bright-eyed and airy "Prescilla" that liven things up just by way of offering something different are few and far between.

Khan herself is incredibly compelling as a storyteller for these surreal dream-like scenarios she sets out in her songs and she's by far the stand-out aspect of Fur and Gold. Even when the music threatens to turn into a bog you have to wade through and the lyrics veer a little too close into particularly vivid teen diary poetry, she's front and centre with her charisma pulling everything together into a functionable whole. Without her in lead this'd be half the album it is now because as far as the material itself goes, apart from the handful of highlights Fur and Gold sticks a lot less than it gives the impression of. Still, it's not an album I can badmouth even as the years have dimmed its shine. Khan's simply written better, more consistent records further on in her career and by assessing her journey (so far) as a whole, I guess I've finally come to realise that I only ever did listen to this album on the strength of a few select songs while the rest acted as enjoyable enough padding in-between. It's a compelling sound with much promise, but promise turns out to be the key word after all.

Rating: 6/10

Magenta Skycode - IIIII (2006)

1) Hands Burn; 2) People; 3) Compassion; 4) Open Air; 5) Pleasure of Love; 6) I Know You're Sleeping With Your Dolls; 7) Go Outside Again; 8) Luvher Oh Hater; 9) Red Eyes; 10) This Empty Crow

Big songs, big production - enough to create emotional heights from those grand swoons alone.

Key tracks: "People", "Compassion", "Luvher Oh Hater"

Jori Sjöroos is a man of many hats. Since the 1990s he’s been splitting his abundance of time between a vast amount of different names, restlessly starting and ending projects on a whim and in process quietly become one of the most ever-present names in Finnish music while largely keeping himself out of the actual spotlight. He's gone from the doom metal of Thergothon to the trendy and radio-friendly club beats of Fu-Tourist, and from cult success with This Empty Flow to actual critical and commercial success as the invisible third member of PMMP. Sjöroos has stretched his wings far and wide across his career, launching new projects each time he wants to try doing something new but most of the time he’s remained intentionally in the background for each of them, the connections between the albums only clear for those who read liner notes. Magenta Skycode is one of the few times when Sjöroos earnestly became the leading star in one of his CV entries, taking on the role of the frontman of a band though in reality he wrote and recorded everything by himself behind the scenes anyway. Magenta Skycode's relatively short period of existence is in tandem with the rise of PMMP where Sjöroos wrote and produced some of the catchiest and most openly direct music of his career for entirely different front personnel to put their lyrics to, and though different from a genre perspective Magenta Skycode comes across like a way present that more melodic direction he'd been immersed in with his own voice front and center.

The widescreen sound of IIIII has its roots in both 80s goth rock and the bombastic indie of its time period, but its core lies in pop-like instancy of its melodies. With Sjöroos being a producer first and foremost, he coats his melodies in kitchen sink antics and a pristinely perfect, multilayered sound. It’s all unashamedly high and mighty, but it’s guided with a vision - each layer highlights the strengths of the melodies churning in the core of it all and the production makes all those layers apparent. The one thing that Sjöroos does bury is his own vocals, which appear as largely incomprehensible series of syllables following a melody (with no lyrics in the booklet to help decipher them); thus the attention moves completely to the actual sound and the strength of the rest of the songwriting, both of which can withstand the extra scrutiny. IIIII sounds really beautiful, from the light twang of the bass groove to the shimmering guitars and shining keyboards - the band line-up may be a facade but Magenta Skycode do somehow sound like a genuine group of musicians banded together with a real dynamic based on the way the instruments interact (the drums are a constant highlight especially). They're lush and clear, while still having the type of warmth these studio-perfected records sometimes miss.  

The dark-clad visuals of IIIII are a red herring: Magenta Skycode is Sjöroos' vehicle for indulging in any stadium torchlight anthem fantasies he has and so he plays them bright and loud. It's exciting and exhilirating in a way pop music does best, where each regal melodic swoon comes like a moment of victory worth cheering for, where each grabbing chorus is a rollercoast riding the thrilling downhill. It's all really confident in its own skillset, and Sjöroos has got the songs to back that ego up. His creativity was at its peak during this time as evidenced by the music he was writing for PMMP simultaneously, and IIIII comfortably rides that same imperial phase train. “People” and “Compassion” stomp with a rhythm-driven urgency as they throw in new hooks and layer old ones with each go-around, “Open Air” and “Go Outside Again” harmoniously reach out in wide open gestures in accordance with their titles, “Hands Burn” is the kind of a majestic slow-burn opener that would make any major publication’s year-end song list, (the horribly titled) “Luvher Oh Hater” and “Red Eyes” lean fully into the album’s ambitions of grandeur and present real stadium soarers, the former with one of the album’s biggest choruses and the latter with a fantastic instrumental finale with Sjöroos indulging in dramatic guitar solo gestures. Each song on IIII strives to be a capital Moment, even the slightly filler-adjacent vibe check "I Know You're Sleeping With Your Dolls" which brings the album to a moment of quiet before a sequence of multiple epic finales in a row in its back half. The excellent thing is, he manages to pull that off for most of the record.

I do readily admit though that my love for IIIII is purely superficial. The production is beautifully perfect in a strictly hifi-ist way, and that's an approach that works for me by default when it's done this well and the songs themselves have rich melodies for days - strictly as a piece of music, IIIII simply sounds great. The superficiality comes in on how I don't find this a particularly deep record, and that’s largely in part to how the music is constantly fixated on delivering those instant highs while the vocals are pushed to the back, so the intended emotional tone remains a mystery and the songs only speak with the exciting rush of cinematic hooks exploding in the sky. I don't think that's an indictment against Magenta Skycode or IIIII - the second Magenta Skycode album opens up by stating "the simple pleasures are the greatest" and I feel like that's a motto that speaks for the whole project. The songs on IIIII pull towards their exciting dramatic archs with staggering intensity every time the album is on, and that is absolutely more than enough to create a completely captivating record. If you're a fan of maximalist melodies and grand gestures, then IIIII is an easy bet.

Rating: 7/10

Karkkiautomaatti - Kaikilla (2006)

CD1: Levy-Yhtiö 1993 EP: 1) En kai koskaan löydä sitä oikeaa; Rakkaudella EP: 2) Ei oo ei oo toivookaa; 3) Hei Johanna; 4) Annathan anteeksi; 5) Hyvää matkaa, kulta pieni; Kävelyllä EP: 6) Ja mua harmitti niin (joo joo); 7) Rakkautta ensisilmäyksellä; 8) Luulitsä niin; 9) Maailman komein poika; Karkuteillä: 10) Jää beibi jää; 11) Aina vaan jaa jaa jaa; 12) Kai vielä joskus muistat mua; 13) Toivon että huomaat; 14) Hei okei mä meen; 15) Paina kaasua, honey!; 16) Äl-oo-vee; 17) Särkyneen sydämen twist; 18) Taaskin turhaan... 19) Tanssi vaan; 20) Takaisin en tuu; 21) Yeah yeah Jenni; 22) Kaikki menee pää edellä surffaamaan; Trallalalla EP: 23) Ymmärtää jos voisit näin; 24) Nyt lähtee rock 'n' roll; 25) Hyvästi Yyteri; 26) Uskomaton tapaus; 27) Ykkösbussi; 28) Modesty Blaise; Kaksi-nolla: 29) Niin oot kaveria!; 30) Huimaa, huimaa (Maagista vetovoimaa); 31) Inhat silmät tuijottaa; 32) Luonnon helmaan; 33) Minun ikioma kesälaulu; 34) Nimi muistiossa; 35) Karkkiautomaatti bop; 36) Pliis Denise; 37) Sovitelma: erätauko; 38) Viikonloppu kahdestaan; 39) Vanha älppärini soi (Soi dadididididamdaa); 40) Ja kesä hiipuu hiljaa...

CD2: Lämmöllä EP: 1) Hölmö kaikkein aikojen; 2) Toinen onneen vie; 3) Stimango; Seikkailuun (Single): 4) Kuutamo; Susan (Single): 5) Kuutamox kaikuu; Suudelmilla: 6) Rio Wamba; 7) Arvoitus on meille poika tuo; 8) Seikkailuun; 9) Nyt heitän arpakuution; 10) Toinen onneen vie (Albumiversio); 11) Yks-kaks-motocross; 12) Minne vaan; 13) Parisuhteen aakkoset; 14) Mä tahdon romanssin; 15) Voi kuinka on tää maailmain; 16) Kemijoki; 17) Susan; 18) Wambada; 19) Kaks-kol-motocross (Chinon & Rhodes Remix)

The collected works of an uniquely charming Finnish cult classic band, with one genuine classic in their back catalogue.

Key tracks: "Niin oot kaveria!", "Seikkailuun", "Minne vaan"

The 59 songs on Kaikilla collects together the entire recorded output of Karkkiautomaatti, a Finnish cult band who operated between 1993 and 1998, and who never had any option other than to be a cult band. With lyrics and attitude directly indebted to 50s rock 'n' roll and Finnish schlager, melodies straight out of bubblegum pop, the energy and playing style of the dodgy punk band your friends put together for fun and Janne Kuusela’s ridiculously saccharine vocals, Karkkiautomaatti were a baffling concoction who had so much inate charm that they inspired grassroots devotion with their overly earnest puppy love songs, often played side by side with hard rock covers in the live set. But behind the quirkiness were real strengths: Kuusela had a genuine talent for arrangement and melody, and bassist Sami Häikiö and particularly drummer Mikko Huusko were the energetic firecrackers underneath.

The first disc of Kaikilla covers the first two albums - 1994’s Karkuteillä and 1996’s Kaksi-nolla - as well as various peripheral EPs and singles around the long-plays. Despite the breadth of material, everything goes forward pretty breezily, with both albums running at 20-25 minutes and the EPs barely reaching five minutes, as the band finish their songs in an average of a minute and a half. The brevity works in their favour. Karkkiautomaatti had a consistent style (90% of the first disc is more or less the same song over and over again but with a different vocal hook), but wildly inconsistent quality control: one minute you're face to face with an ingeniusly lovely melody, and the literal next minute you may as well be listening to a school band’s first practice session going awry. It doesn't make for a great listen per se but the adorably slapdash nature of it all is part of early Karkkiautomaatti's charm and it plays well together with the song material. With the songs being so short and everything flying by so quickly, any clunkers are quickly brushed off and barely slow things down. Taking it all in during a single 70-minute block as presented on Kaikilla can get a bit hectic, and so the original running lengths for these releases make sense: something as syrupy and at times shambolic as this is best enjoyed in small bursts.

 

There isn’t much development across the first set of releases either. The recording quality gets better as time goes by, and Kaksi-nolla sees the start of the band developing their sound a bit further, with some additional instrumentation, introducing an acoustic song and even going as far as getting close (but not over!) the prog-tastic three minute song length barrier. It does feel bad to brush off so much of the first disc with barely a mention but overall, while there’s a number of genuinely fun, great little pop nuggets across the early days, Kaksi-nolla is the apex of Karkkiautomaatti’s initial sound and it houses the best songs on the otherwise somewhat samey (positively or not, depending on the mood) first disc. If there’s a song that perfectly describes the ethos of the band, it’s the Kaksi-nolla opening track “Niin oot kaveria!”, with its obnoxiously catchy backing vocals, ridiculously sweet melodies and the scruffy-round-the-edges playing that binds them together into a stupidly jolly ray of sunshine.  

Karkkiautomaatti had almost as many drummers during their lifetime as they had releases, but the Lämmöllä EP released after Kaksi-nolla found the band in a limbo point in-between percussionists, and it turned out to be an unexpected sea change moment for the band. Rather than the EP seeing the now-duo acting out a stripped down interpretation of the band, Kuusela and Häikiö started to experiment in a homebrewed version of a studio wizardry moment. The three songs on the EP, which starts the second disc, represent the birth of Karkkiautomaatti 2.0. "Hölmö kaikkein aikojen" reimagines the band's traditional sugary pop formula with vintage keyboards and drum machines in lieu of the rock & roll aesthetic of the releases before it, "Toinen onneen vie" is an honest-to-earth anthem that grows and develops further than any of the 40 songs before it, and the instrumental rock-out "Stimango" has a muscular touch previously amiss from the band even at their most punk rock. The goofy and naïve band of the first disc who embraced their amateurish charm have finally decided to stop fooling around and to take some time to grow up a little, in the process tapping onto aspects that were always in the background but had been perhaps intentionally obscured before.

This leads directly into the band’s third and final album, 1998’s Suudelmilla. The liner notes for Kaikilla features, alongside a general biography, a number of small blurbs by friends and industry mates of the band, and even nearly all of them admit it’s Suudelmilla where everything finally clicked and Karkkiautomaatti became something to seriously watch out for. With the additions of drummer Vesa Lehto and arguably more importantly Jenni Rope on keyboards, Karkkiautomaatti built upon the previous EP’s growth and took it to a full length format. It sees the band staying honest to everything they stood for before, but elaborating further and thinking bigger. So, with Suudelmilla, Karkkiautomaatti moved from cult classics to releasing a straight-up classic.

Suudelmilla is brimming with honest ambition, abandoning the quickfire format and instead opting for longer song lengths which allow the band to expand and adapt their writing in ways they were restricted from before. The keyboards and organs have become a definitive part of the band’s sound alongside a generally more layered production style with all kinds of vintage sounds and sampled sound effects bouncing wildly like they’re overflowing, and the band have all but switched out of the tongue-in-cheek punked-up pop in favour of more analytical songcraft and indulgement in new ideas. Thus, you end up with unprecedented moments such as the psychedelic breakdown of “Nyt heitän arpakuution” that practically interrupts the song’s ordinary flow, “Yks-kaks-motocross” that could have soundtracked a video game action sequence, the atmospheric instrumental “Kemijoki” that stretches its soft textures across over seven minutes, and the bizarro tropicalia of “Rio Wamba” and “Wambada”. But the absolute best part of of Suudelmilla is how breaking away from their conventions underlines and emphasises Kuusela’s talent for songcraft, because those sweet indie pop melodies are now paired with songs that give them the throne they deserve. Any Anglospheric peer of the band would’ve killed to have the gigantic “Susan” in their back catalogue, “Minne vaan” and its swirling guitars and genuinely epic extended finale is quite possibly the best thing Karkkiautomaatti ever released, and the frolicking “Seikkailuun” even landed the band with a genuine radio hit which feels bizarre given how whimsical it is. As if to prove a point, “Toinen onneen vie” appears on Suudelmilla once more, this time polished to perfection with a new drive underneath and hunger in its eyes, crowning itself for the throne it was destined to be after making its initial EP appearance.

Suudelmilla is undoubtedly the highlight of the entire compilation and the key reason why Karkkiautomaatti have retained their relevance to date rather than ending up as a curio for musical archivists. As charming and lovely as the majority of their discography can be, the first few albums and EPs are a scattershot display split between what’s actually good fun and what’s just pleasant filler. Meanwhile, Suudelmilla has become an iconic and influential part of the Finnish independent music canon, and so much of what would take place in the Finndie scene in the decade after its release would be coloured in its shades - and it remains just as charismatic and magical today. That the band amicably split shortly after the release of Suudelmilla (for no apparent reason that I can find) just further enhances its legacy: for their last act they captured a lightning in a bottle. and in doing so closed off a short but genuinely unique career in a way that no one could have predicted. The existence of Kaikilla is a small pop cultural act of importance, and a wonderful way to dig into a truly memorable discography even if after the matter it's the second disc that ends up getting most of the airtime.

Rating: 8/10

Manic Street Preachers - Everything Must Go (10th Anniversary Deluxe Edition) (2006)

CD1: 1) Elvis Impersonator: Blackpool Pier; 2) A Design for Life; 3) Kevin Carter; 4) Enola/Alone; 5) Everything Must Go; 6) Small Black Flowers That Grow in the Sky; 7) The Girl Who Wanted to Be God; 8) Removables; 9) Australia; 10) Interiors (Song for Willem de Kooning); 11) Further Away; 12) No Surface All Feeling Bonus tracks: 13) Enola/Alone (Live); 14) Kevin Carter (Live); 15) Interiors (Song for Willem de Kooning) (Live); 16) Elvis Impersonator: Blackpool Pier (Live); 17) Everything Must Go (Live); 18) A Design for Life (Live); 19) A Design for Life (Stealth Sonic Orchestra Remix)
CD2: 1) Dixie; 2) No Surface All Feeling (Demo); 3) Further Away (Demo); 4) Small Black Flowers That Grow in the Sky (Demo); 5) No One Knows What It's Like to Be Me (Demo); 6) Australia (Acoustic Demo); 7) No Surface All Feeling (Acoustic Demo); 8) Interiors (Song for Willem de Kooning) (Acoustic Demo); 9) The Girl Who Wanted to Be God (Acoustic Demo); 10) A Design for Life (First Rehearsal); 11) Kevin Carter (First Rehearsal); 12) Mr. Carbohydrate; 13) Dead Trees and Traffic Islands; 14) Dead Passive; 15) Black Garden; 16) Hanging On; 17) No One Knows What It's Like to Be Me; 18) Horses Under Starlight; 19) Sepia; 20) First Republic; 21) Australia (Stephen Hague Production); 22) The Girl Who Wanted to Be God (Stephen Hague Production); 23) Glory, Glory  

Good remastering, all the b-sides, loads of other nice bonus material, no tracklist edits...

Key tracks: Of the bonus material and across the various types of it, "Sepia", "A Design for Life (Stealth Sonic Orchestra Remix)", "Australia (Stephen Hague Production)"

(This review is for the 10th anniversary re-release, for the review of Everything Must Go itself please click here).

The Manic Street Preachers catalogue reissue series is a chaotic journey with twists and turns around every corner, the teasers for each new addition being met with concerned anticipation from fans. You never know what format they might go for, how they’ll treat the bonus material, and with the later releases how they’ll even treat the track list to the original album. And with all that in mind, the 10th anniversary reissue of Everything Must Go is the closest they’ve gotten to a perfect fan-pleasing deluxe re-release.

Most importantly, all nine of the original b-sides have been included, which is arguably the most important aspect of these re-releases given the Manics' strength as a b-sides band - only the three covers from the "Australia" single have been dropped. Some of the b-sides bear a similarity to the mother album's anthemic elegance, and the stadium ode to mundanity “Mr. Carbohydrate”, the melancholy and drop-dead gorgeous “Sepia”, and the flute-driven "Dead Trees and Traffic Islands" could have all slotted finely to the album, including from the quality perspective - with "Sepia" being one of the standout Manics b-sides. The brooding and moody "Black Garden" is like a reverse-transitional bridge to the dark mindscapes of The Holy Bible, nudging the idea that despite the gigantic transformation between the two albums they were still only two years apart. As per usual the b-sides offer a little bit of a ground for experiments and the band's first instrumental (and still among the best of its ilk), the suave "Horses Under Starlight" is a prime example, gliding along smoothly with its trumpet and ba-ba-bas; on the other end of the spectrum "First Republic" and "Dead Passive" are b-sides primarily because of how scathing their lyrics are, the former bringing down the government with some good ol' fashion riff-rocking and the latter making an elegant death march out of its litany of celebrity couples. The only real weaker b-sides are "Hanging On" and "No One Knows What It's Like to Be Me", which are rather uneventful and somewhat boringly straightforward three-minute rockers which sound like they took fifteen minutes to write, together. But, this reissue also contains the original demo for "No One Knows What It's Like to Be Me" and what seems like a weird inclusion at first turns out to be a brilliant one: the song actually sounds so much better in its original demo form, with a bit of a kick to it that got lost on the way to the final version.

The other demos offer interesting little insights to the process with melody and lyric changes, and the acoustic solo versions prove that Bradfield's melodies stand up strongly even when the guitar walls are stripped away. The live versions are a good mix of hits and deep cuts (I particularly appreciate how much the generally underappreciated “Interiors” gets wheeled out across the two discs), and the Stealth Sonic Orchestra remix of "A Design for Life" is one of the band's best remixes and iconic in its own little way by way of its appearance in various segues and interludes along the years, so it's great to have it here. It's a shame the Stealth Sonic Orchestra remix for "Everything Must Go" hasn't been included and it probably would have been better to have than the rehearsal versions of "A Design for Life" and "Kevin Carter", which are neat to hear once but too shoddily recorded to warrant for repeated listens. The two Stephen Hague mixes are the best part of the alternative takes and are genuinely fascinating: the band started the album sessions with Hague but soon realised it wasn’t just working, and you can hear why through the versions of “Australia” and “The Girl Who Wanted to Be God” but as fan fodder they are incredible. His take on “Australia” is incredible for all the wrong reasons, as the song is driven through a happy-go-lucky Britpop filter with handclaps and tinny horn sections - but it’s so interesting.

From a general perspective, the remastering is generally really well done. Everything Must Go didn’t necessarily need a touch-up job, but to my ears the original sounds a little flat at places (mostly in the drums); this reissue doesn’t tweak the mix as such, but it does give it a little extra boost that adds to the anthemic volume of the songs. As per usual for Manics re-releases the liner notes are more visually oriented so rather than track-by-track breakdowns or interviews (beyond a guest essay on the album serving as the introduction), the focus is more on showcasing various artwork and photography from the period. The DVD features a talking heads documentary with the band on the album, the music videos and various peripheral performance material - all which make for a decent evening’s viewing. It all comes together into one particularly strong reissue, with little to actually criticise. The only real complaints are that the three covers would have been nice to have been included for the sake of representing the complete the era (and unlike the covers of "Velocity Girl" and "I Can't Take My Eyes Off You", the original 1996 version of "Take the Skinheads Bowling" never made it to Lipstick Traces), and the intro to "Black Garden" has been chopped off and given its own track ("Glory, Glory") which makes no sense.

The thing is, those two points have already been addressed on the later 20th anniversary reissue, which arguably is the better version - it lacks the demos and other unreleased alternative versions, but it's more complete in terms of all the official non-album releases and gathers every single b-side (remix, cover, live or original) that appeared during the era. So, the main issue for this one becomes the simple fact that the band decided to outdo it when cashing out on this album again and thus this version has basically outlived its usefulness. But I can’t say I’m too bitter about it - this is still a fantastic reissue of a great album, and the bonus material is enough to kick the original's rating up a notch.  

Rating: 9/10

Nicky Wire - I Killed the Zeitgeist (2006)

1) I Killed the Zeitgeist; 2) Break My Heart Slowly; 3) Withdraw/Retreat; 4) Goodbye Suicide; 5) The Shining Path; 6) Bobby Untitled; 7) You Will Always Be My Home; 8) So Much for the Future; 9) Stab Yr Heart; 10) Kimono Rock; 11) Sehnsucht; 12) (Nicky Wire's) Last; 13) Everything Fades

A rough and raggedy ugly duckling with a heart of gold. So, a Nicky Wire record.

Key tracks: “I Killed the Zeitgeist”, “The Shining Path”, “Bobby Untitled”

Nicky Wire had been writing the lyrics for Manic Street Preachers for years but barely contributed to the music. James Dean Bradfield and Sean Moore were the musically gifted wonders, meanwhile Wire had spent years talking down his own musical skills even long after it stopped being relevant. Still, a spark remained and the experimental, laissez-faire sessions around 2001’s Know Your Enemy gave Wire the informal go-ahead to have a go at writing music. A few years later and Wire was actively writing a song here and there (even if they were relegated to b-sides), and had started to hint at writing a solo album. When the band took a break in mid-2005, he was the first member to announce one.

To put this into context, no one was expecting anything out I Killed the Zeitgeist. In the band's early days Bradfield would record the bass parts for the albums and the band couldn't play certain songs live because Wire couldn't consistently play the riffs, and while he'd gotten much better over the years the reputation stayed. The first songs written by him for the Manics were chaotic, rudimentary and divisive, and even though by the mid-00s he had learned to write more melodically, there was still the issue of Wire's voice - i.e. the fact that his grovely, inherently out-of-tune voice just wasn't cut for singing. In short, the general expectation was that whatever Wire would release would be a complete mess.

I Killed the Zeitgeist is most definitely a bit of a mess, but so is Wire and it’s an album that very explicitly embraces it just like Wire would. It’s ramshackle and scattershot by purpose, almost antagonistically showing off its unpolished rough edges on the spot - including the complete lack of bass on the record, simply because Wire's whim dictated that it would be hilariously subversive on account of him being the bassist in his band. But Wire picked the perfect sonical playground for his irreverent attitude. Musically I Killed the Zeitgeist is a love letter to his punk roots and love for 80s lo-fi indie and the C86 scene, and its collection of primal punk anarchy, introverted ballads and cacophonic noise is all glued up on top of another like a collage of clippings. The liner notes and artwork for the album consist of typewriter printouts of the lyrics with scribbles in the margins, typographical errors and hasty after-edits in multi-colour pens, surrounded by scruffy polaroids, puppy stickers and glittery stamps, and it's the perfect visual insight to the world of I Killed the Zeitgeist perfectly. It's a chaotic tumbleweed of whimsy and guts, a peak to the leopard print world of a man who has always straddled between a tortured poet and a provocative brat.

And it is good. The range of I Killed the Zeitgeist proves that Wire is a good songwriter, who has evolved leaps and bounds since his first songs. Much of the album operates on his trademark glam punk aesthetic, but there's plenty of surprises too - some successful (the finale gear change in "Stab Yr Heart" that's almost Bradfield-esque), some less so ("So Much for the Future" devolves into noise in a way that isn't as interesting or artsy as it thinks, the instrumental "Sehnsucht" isn't interesting enough musically to stop being more than a pleasant filler song). But besides the few dips, I Killed the Zeitgeist is remarkably consistent. "Break My Heart Slowly" is an absolutely classic pop anthem dressed up in rags and eyeliner and coming from the most unexpected source, "The Shining Path" houses some of the album's strongest hooks and neatest arrangements (love that sharp acoustic guitar playing the lead melody, flipping the album's general acoustic/electric roles) and shows that Bradfield isn't the only one in the band gunning for big rock anthems, and "Stab Yr Heart" is a low-key highlight even before it switches to its remarkably good extended instrumental outro full of elegance and style. In some parts Wire channels his old Generation Terrorists self, full of cheeky attitude, sardonic sense of humour and a borderline arrogant conviction in his own message as he plows through the livelier numbers like the sing-along happy "Withdraw/Retreat" and the cock rock of "Kimono Rock" (the former which features Bradfield in a vocal cameo, the latter in guitars). The rugged punk of the title track which may not be very intricate, but  it latches onto the listener so well in so many ways (the big hook of a chorus, the gratuitous German, the DO DO DO) and its placer as the opener is the perfect introduction to the album as the song reveals all its quirks and traits right off the bat. They're carefully balancing on the border between entertainingly raggy and genuinely good, and come through full of swagger, point blank effective hooks and a sense of rock 'n' roll fun.

The biggest surprise is the number of songs where Wire conjures up something more poignant, and produces some genuinely lovely songs that run almost in antithesis of the image he projects elsewhere on the record. "You Will Always Be My Home", "Bobby Untitled", "(Nicky Wire's) Last" and "Everything Fades" are atmospheric, tender and sometimes flat-out beautiful songs, with melodies strong enough to work in a Manics album. "You Will Always Be My Home" and "Bobby Untitled" in particular could be called almost sophisticated compared to the rest of the album, the former showcasing one of the album's best vocal melodies and the latter coming across as the most fully-realised composition and arrangement of the entire record, and "(Nicky Wire's) Last" goes a great way to show just how well Wire's introspective lyrics can work when he's the one singing them for once. The general raw aesthetic around the album also suits the more tender songs perfectly, and that's including Wire's voice - because my mutant superpower is actually liking it. You honestly can't really call Wire's voice good and this album takes placebefore he got more confident with it, but there's a rough power to it that perfectly suits the soundworld he's chosen for the album. With the gentler songs it adds a layer of vulnerability; with the more explosive songs, his voice is perfect for their eyeliner and spraypaint aesthetic. It may not be a pretty voice and is absolutely an acquired taste, but part of me thinks these songs might be lesser if someone more polished sang them.

Secret success then? Much like Bradfield's 2006 solo album The Great Western is ultimately best enjoyed by people who are fans of the Manics already, so is I Killed the Zeitgeist and certainly even more so. In case of Bradfield this was because the inherent qualities of his solo album were ones already familiar from the Manics and thus unlikely to convert anyone new. Meanwhile Wire's solo album somewhat requires that you're so invested in the band you'd listen to anything related to them, because Wire's divisive (to put it kindly) voice and the album's rough exterior certainly aren't the kinds of things you'd be able to present around to any unsuspecting person. But where it's awkward on the surface it can be a genuinely lovely thing when you dig underneath, with a lot of genuinely good songs strictly in terms of their melodies and arrangements, and others that win over with charm where they might lack a little on other intricacies. Where the strengths of The Great Western are almost obvious, it's the unpredictability and whimsy of I Killed the Zeitgeist that makes it almost special. It's a little short of great but not too far - and while I still wouldn't recommend it to anyone who isn't a big fan of the band, this might just be one of the most underrated and misunderstood albums of the wider Manics universe.

Rating: 7/10

James Dean Bradfield - The Great Western (2006)

 

1) That’s No Way to Tell a Lie; 2) An English Gentleman; 3) Bad Boys and Painkillers; 4) On Saturday Morning We Will Rule the World; 5) Run Romeo Run; 6) Still a Long Way to Go; 7) Émigré; 8) Say Hello to the Pope; 9) To See a Friend in Tears; 10) The Wrong Beginning; 11) Which Way to Kyffin

Key tracks: “That’s No Way to Tell a Lie”, “Bad Boys and Painkillers”, “Émigré”

After 2004’s Lifeblood, Manic Street Preachers took the first break of their lifetime. Nicky Wire had been pondering about doing a solo album for a while so he set out to record one; Sean Moore took the opportunity to just enjoy time with his family; but James Dean Bradfield had no idea what to do. The Great Western, Bradfield’s first solo album and named after the train line between London and Wales he wrote most of the album on while travelling back and forth, was the result of circumstance and not really what he was driven to do: James has spoken many a times that he prefers to play and create music with the Manics and he had no real itch to make a solo record, but when you’re a man who obsessively loves to create music with a lot of spare time in his hands, it’s something that’s practically expected to happen. Even at the time of its release Bradfield was almost sheepish that The Great Western existed - like he was cheating on his band by writing music by himself and playing with other people.

Bradfield is the main songwriter in the Manics and so from that perspective The Great Western bears no surprises - it is all very identifiably JDB, melodic solos and impressive vocal theatrics and all, with a lot of detailed arrangements and additional instrumentation as if to highlight his role as his day job band’s instrumental wiz. Where it differs from the Manics significantly is that it’s a really cheery record, close to cheekily winking at the listener at times. It’s full of bouncy melodies, playful Beach Boys backing vocals and frolicking glockenspiels, to a point that many of these songs could be called summertime jams with no trace of irony. The more obvious change is that while Bradfield has always been the voice of the Manics, prior to this he had only ever sung his own words once. The Great Western gives him the chance genuinely sing his own material for most of the album, and for inspiration he's chosen his own past. Bradfield's (actually really good and in no way lacking next to Wire's) lyrics are full of hazy, uplifting nostalgia inspired by people and places of his past and present, partly happily reflecting on his memories and part wistfully looking back. The comfortably homey tone of the lyrics tie into the more genuinely positive musical ideas he’s rarely played with in the Manics, and so The Great Western isn’t an opportunity for Bradfield to experiment with musical styles he couldn’t do with his own band. Instead, it’s the chance to write some happy pop songs for once without feeling like he’s betraying the hard-worked reputation for anthemic misery.

There’s a certain level of freedom you can only get when you’re completely in control and that kind of boundlessness is what defines The Great Western. Right from its title the album invokes travelling as its central theme and it does invoke the same open-ended freedom of roaming the world around you and not bound to any given location - and if I owned a car, it’d be exactly the kind of record that would be in its element played out loud on the road. Bradfield makes everything on The Great Western sound so effortless as well: it’s awash with melodic riches, masterfully angled hooks and consistent highs, but it doesn’t sound meticulously planned or laboured even though you can tell so much attention went into its smallest details in a typical Bradfield style. The big pop moments are the obvious hook-in points to pin this down, simply because they’re where the album’s key tenet of breaking away from routine is best displayed, and they’re so charming in their unexpected directness. “That’s No Way to Tell a Lie”, “An English Gentleman”, “Bad Boys and Painkillers” (what a killer opening salvo) and “Say Hello to the Pope” are a celebration of James’ guitar work, his voice and especially the greatness of abundant backing vocals - an element of the album that deserves every single separate mention it gets because the use all the contrasting melodies, layered voices and call-and-answer sections make so much of the album’s magic. “That’s No Way to Tell a Lie” in particular is the kind of instantly addictive, succinct and precise single that Bradfield’s been trying to write for each Manics album ever since but rarely coming even close to this - and not even the most optimistic Manics albums would dream to feature something as outrageously upbeat as the sha-la-las and handclaps of "That's No Way to Tell a Lie". Another big highlight is“Bad Boys and Painkillers” (with lyrics by Nicky Wire, making this a Manics song in disguise), which swoons so wonderfully in its little world of harmonica licks, waves of keyboards and harmonies and intricately growing arrangement details - it’s massive, without ever really trying to sound as much.

The Great Western isn’t completely bereft of the more traditional James Dean Bradfield flair, and some of its strongest moments come from Bradfield going back to his old guitar hero habits. The drama of the stadium torchlit “Still a Long Way to Go” is the closest the album gets to the Manics and maybe would have deserved a shot to become part of that canon, with Bradfield showing off the sheer awe-inspiring volume and strength of his voice as he belts out the chorus in a way that gets your hair stand up. The conceptual title track and the heart and soul of the album “Émigré” is an all-out rock stand-out and also the album's most resonant track, Bradfield surrounding himself with guitars that manage to be both delicate and muscular at the same time, urgently pushing forward like the album’s titular train. While it's great to hear Bradfield play around with more novel ideas to excellent results, you can tell he's most at home here, and these two songs together form a slide towards the more contemplative side of the record. The less extroverted moments of The Great Western have the same warmth as their sunnier counterparts, so even at its moodiest it still feels like a comforting shoulder to lean against rather than anything truly melancholy: the contrasting intimate quiet of the Jacques Brel cover “To See a Friend in Tears” perhaps comes the closest, but it’s beset by the gospel-flavoured and choir-backed “The Wrong Beginning” and the dreamland sunset scene of “Which Way to Kyffin” - the latter of which especially is one of the album’s most evocative and quite frankly beautiful cuts.

Overall, The Great Western is a consistently great album where even the somewhat lesser cuts (“Run Romeo Run”, “On Saturday Morning We Will Rule the World”, to some extent “The Wrong Beginning” that plods a little too much before it gets really going) have parts that sparkle and shine. But did anyone expect anything less? Manics had been comfortably cruising from highlight to highlight in their golden age right before this record and Bradfield is their the primary musical contributor, so of course The Great Western is really good - there was never a risk it wouldn’t have been. I would imagine Bradfield knew that there weren’t many risks involved in writing it either, but rather than coasting along knowing there’s an audience ready for it, it’s clear the lack of pressure made recording the album all the more comfortable and relaxed. It’s a repeated point but it’s kind of the gist of the record: no chips on the shoulder, no weight on the shoulders. Simply a selection of great songs from a great musician, treating this sort-of peer-pressured solo album chance as a method to unwind and play something more relaxed and upbeat for his own fun, and the benefits of that lack of self-censorship is apparent all over the album. As far as solo records and side releases go The Great Western isn’t the sort of breakaway record that would establish Bradfield as someone who could convince you even if the Manics left you cold, and so it comfortably slots in the category where it is probably more of a fan record - but that absolutely does not tarnish its strengths or simply how good it sounds.

Rating: 8/10

R.E.M. - And I Feel Fine... The Best of the I.R.S. Years 1982-1987 (2006)

CD1: 1) Begin the Begin; 2) Radio Free Europe; 3) Pretty Persuasion; 4) Talk About the Passion; 5) (Don't Go Back To) Rockville; 6) Sitting Still; 7) Gardening at Night; 8) 7 Chinese Bros. 9) So. Central Rain (I'm Sorry); 10) Driver 8; 11) Can't Get There from Here; 12) Finest Worksong; 13) Feeling Gravity's Pull; 14) I Believe; 15) Life and How to Live It; 16) Cuyahoga; 17) The One I Love; 18) Welcome to the Occupation; 19) Fall on Me; 20) Perfect Circle; 21) It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)
Limited Edition CD2: 1) Pilgrimage; 2) These Days; 3) Gardening at Night (Slower Electric Demo); 4) Radio Free Europe (Hib-Tone Version); 5) Sitting Still (Hib-Tone Version); 6) Life and How to Live It (Live); 7) Ages of You (Live); 8) We Walk (Live); 9) 1,000,000 (Live); 10) Finest Worksong (Other Mix); 11) Hyena (Demo); 12) Theme from Two Steps Onward; 13) Superman; 14) All the Right Friends; 15) Mystery to Me (Demo); 16) Just a Touch (Live in Studio); 17) Bad Day; 18) King of Birds; 19) Swan Swan H (Live Acoustic); 20) Disturbance at the Heron House; 21) Time After Time (AnnElise)

As comprehensive a best of as you could get, really. And for the fans, that bonus disc has some surprisingly nice rarities.

Key tracks: It's a best of album!

R.E.M. knew how to write a brilliant song right from the very start. While they're mainly known for jangling and mumbling during the days represented here, they knew how to vary their recipe and push their own boundaries, leading to a five-album streak that while varied, sounds like a logical path from A to B. The now-defunct I.R.S. and whatever labels that have since absorbed its material into themselves have been pumping out compilations of the band's early material at a steady pace throughout the years, and they've been doing an alright job in condensing the highlights from the period: after all, we're talking about only five albums and an EP here so it's not like picking up the key tracks is particularly difficult. 2006's And I Feel Fine... The Best of the I.R.S. Years 1982-1987 seems like an unnecessary release in that sense, but rather than pushing out yet another pointless copy/paste compilation, this one actually has the band behind it. It's a fully curated, carefully compiled selection that for the first time involves R.E.M. themselves influencing the song selection, with the idea that this would become the definite I.R.S. era R.E.M. compilation that clears out the rest into the bargain bins they were destined to.

It's a success. Whether you're a newcomer wanting to get a summary of the early days or already familiar with the material but wanting to just run through the best bits, And I Feel Fine is a successful cut-through the period. The 21 songs represented feature all the singles (bar The Clique cover "Superman") and most of the major album cuts; each of the five albums is represented with an equal, respectable amount of songs and the Chronic Town EP is rightfully represented by "Gardening at Night". Everything has been remastered well and the cross-era sequencing forms a brilliant, natural flow. The only nitpick is the lack of "Maps and Legends", which to me has always been one of the key tracks of 80s-R.E.M., but it's hard to really complain about it when the rest of the collection is so well done. It absolutely blows away the previous budget compilations and should do its job perfectly as an introduction.

And then the established fans can move onto the deluxe edition bonus content.

The second, extra disc starts from where the main package left off. Each of the four band members has selected a personal favourite deep cut, nicely picking some highlights left off the compilation proper. In addition you've got the excellent version of "Superman" that was missing off the main disc, the 'last song left off the compilation' ("King of Birds") and the original pre-Murmur single versions of "Radio Free Europe" and "Sitting Still" to round off overflow studio material. From there, the disc starts branching off into more uncharted waters. The deluxe edition bonus disc is primarily a collection of non-album choice selections, with an emphasis on variety - no studio b-sides have been included, probably because Dead Letter Office compiles all those pretty comprehensively. In their place are live highlights, including a storming version of "Life and How to Live It" that blows the album version off the charts with its sheer manic energy, and alternate takes such as an intriguing slowed down "Gardening at Night", and and some demos. Some of these demos offer the album's biggest fan-snags, by including the original demos of "All the Right Friends" and especially "Bad Day" (which is one of the few things here previously unreleased): songs which the band wouldn't actually finalise until the 00's, and it's fascinating how close the band kept the final versions to these demos. 

Some effort and quality checking has gone into compiling the second disc as well because it's far more consistent than simply the collection of thrown together curio rarities it looks like at first sight. A lot of the alternative versions, live or otherwise, are actually genuinely good and worth one's time beyond the initial listen, and the few pure archive clear-outs do not overlap with any other widespread R.E.M. release so they have a reason to be included. It's a treasure trove for any fan, and the cherry on top are the liner notes. The whole band including Berry go through each and every song, revealing historic anecdotes and personal feelings about them, in a thoroughly interesting way (as a disclaimer, the 2-disc version only contains descriptions for all the bonus disc songs, so I can't say for sure if the 1 disc version features the same for primary disc).

Whether it's the main content or the bonus disc, And I Feel Fine is far more a labour of love than your average compilation. A clear goal was set out here - to focus on quality above all else while presenting an accurate summary of a period that very few casual appreciators ever even think about. The second disc is the missing companion piece to Dead Letter Office that fans should seek out, covering everything essential it was missing and then a little extra. I'd be lying if I said this is a regular listen but out of the best of compilations I've heard across the years from artists I love, this is easily in the top tiers.

Rating: 9/10

Blossoms - Blossoms (2006)

1) One Night; 2) Downtown; 3) Sonando de la Luz; 4) Dust to Dust; 5) Love Me for a While; 6) Get Laid; 7) Celebration; 8) Go Get It!; 9) Skyhigh; 10) Beach

Not the British 2010s crew, but a group of wild-spirited party monsters from mid-00s Finland with an infectious groove and floor-filling jams to back it up. 

Key tracks: "One Night", "Love Me for a While", "Beach"

There are party albums - records that go down a storm in any social gathering - and then there are albums that sound like they're part of the party. Each song is a sensory experience that takes you right in the middle of the crowd full of frenetic energy, soundtracked by someone's friend's band playing in a packed-up corner and making joyous noise that everyone is lapping up - and the band is actually good as well. Blossoms' (not that more famous British band from the 2010's) debut sounds like the ideal kind of house party that only exists in someone's exaggerated imagination, and its greatest feat is how just tangible that feel is in their music.

I saw Blossoms live shortly before the release of this album and while the stage was tiny and the audience almost as small, they commanded the vibe to perfection and turned a mid-day open air stage into what felt like a tight nightclub set. The greatest thing that the self-titled debut does is what so many albums try but never quite grasp, and that's perfectly capturing that raw power and chemistry the band had while performing. The songs are straight-forward and to the point, there's no messing around and nothing to hide in - the rhythm section keeps it four-to-the-floor while the band flick between funkier rock and groovier pop, the hooks are underlined for obvious sing-along purposes and everything leads to the big obvious chorus designed to get the audience jumping. But Blossoms know what they are doing and the band operates on a telepathic level to pull it off, and the album captures that completely. A lot of it is thanks to frontman Aki Toivoniemi: his Nordic accent is strong but so is his charisma, and it's that party ringleader aura that pulls the brash and bold album together. If there is one main takeaway here, it's that Blossoms were natural born stage commanders.

Two of the songs here are already familiar (to a tiny subsection of people like me): "One Night" and "Beach" were both found on the band's also self-titled debut EP and have been re-recorded here on account of becoming the obvious standouts of the EP, and both sound better than ever. "One Night"'s girl-boy cruiseship disco duet sounds bigger and bolder, and the promising could-be-hit has now gone through a training montage and is now kicking down doors to claim its throne, with a beefier backbone powering the great melodic strength of the original. The original duet partner Sara Nurmi reprises her role as well which is a delight, because her chemistry with Aki is perfect: it's equally great that she is almost part of the band throughout the record, with her vocals appearing throughout the album and working so well with Aki's with their intertwining vocal hooks. "Beach" is the one moment where Blossoms get a little more serious, closing the album with a yearning and intense rumination on life's fleeting nature: it's atypical for the band, but it's a powerful, crunchy rock and roll finale that's as close to perfection as the album gets. Of the wholly new songs, the sweat-dripping dancefloor cruiser "Get Laid" and the pogoing "Downtown" with its Britrock-flirting chorus are instant standouts; the real big one is "Love Me for a While" though, which builds from its suave string-accentuated funk rock into a series of jam finales which each could go on for minutes alone, tightening the groove bit by bit. On an album full of house party anthems, it's a giant destined for a larger stage.

The ten feel-good anthems presented here are consistent throughout: Blossoms have a clear formula that they know how to pull off and which the album barely ever deviates from. The thing with having such a clear chosen direction is that it makes the difference between the big keepers of the record and the rest that much clearer, and so is the case here too, but it's nothing to the extent that would break the tone. The album gets a little newspaper bop on the head from the faux-Latin flair of "Sonando de la Luz", whose occasional charms aren't enough to overcome my allergy for cheap Latin references, but that's the album's only real tripping point. Even on the rare occasion where things aren't necessarily quite as exciting (e.g. "Go Get It!" is a bit of a lesser retread of the relentless energy of "Downtown" and "Get Laid"), Blossoms' wild spirit picks things up - it really is an album where the interaction between everyone participating in its recording absolutely shines, and it always takes me back to that brief live appearance I saw. I'd wager that even without that personal reference point, it's clear just how captivating the band's energy throughout the record is.

Blossoms feels like it could have been the first steps of a future cult next big thing but for reasons unknown the band ended up on near in-definite hiatus following this and that alternate timeline never happened (and I would have called it a split had I not learned of the surprise follow-up album roughly a decade after this one). Very few seem to be aware of this ever existing but given its strengths in what it does, it's become a regular entry in various party mixes, playlists et al I've had a hand in over the years. So, at least in a microscopic scale Blossoms' talent for a good celebration still makes itself known. There are musically greater albums than this that sound less convincing about their creators' chemistry than this low-key self-release, and that's always going to be to Blossoms' credit.

Rating: 7/10

LCD Soundsystem - 45:33 (2006)

1) 45:33 (Pt.1); 2) 45:33 (Pt.2); 3) 45:33 (Pt.3); 4) 45:33 (Pt.4); 5) 45:33 (Pt.5); 6) 45:33 (Pt.6) Bonus tracks 7) Freak Out / Starry Eyes; 8) North American Scum (Onanistic Dub); 9) Hippie Priest Bum-Out

Murphy and co get to make a LCD long-form dance jam without any constrictions or inhibitions.

Key tracks: If you want to split the main song, parts two and three.

James Murphy was explicitly commissioned by Nike to create 45:33, but he likely had something like this in his mind regardless and getting asked to do so was just a fortunate twist of fate. Ostensibly designed for a jogging promotion campaign, Murphy got to indulge in his dream of creating a single, album-length song and the true nature of 45:33 is in fact to be the most uncompromised incarnation of the standard long-form LCD Soundsystem jam track - this time running for nearly 46 minutes. Mostly focused on rhythm and groove and sustaining the energy for as long as possible, 45:33 is the dancefloor jam to end all jams - and just to make it clear, this is probably the purest indie disco soundtrack filler that Murphy has ever released, all four-to-the-floor and none of the introspective lyrics.

Whether coincidental or not, the six untitled parts which make up the complete composition vaguely follow the form of a standard exercise routine. Part 1 is little more than a gentle warm-up intro, parts 2 to 4 make up the body of the work-out, 5 is the last intense push and the final part is the wind-down. The part splits aren't particularly precise and in some formats it doesn't exist to begin with (instead served as one long 46-minute piece), but cutting this into chunks was never the intention either way; 45:33 is intended to be a singular session and its various sections exist solely in context with one another rather than to stand out individually. The only real exception to that is part 3 and that's completely retrospective in nature: Murphy repurposed the particular section into "Someone Great" from Sound of Silver, and because of that familiarity it now sticks out from the rest of the composition here, like it's unintentionally gatecrashing a party it wasn't aware of. For the most parts though, all the parts are built on the same ideas: mechanically precise drum hits, groove-driven bass, the occasional odd vocal sample (from Murphy or one of his friends - the second part's "shame on you!" being a particular favourite) and lush but carefully concentrated additional keyboard and synth accompaniments, served in varying tempos. While varied, once you've heard the first section you have a rough idea where the rest of it's going to go, even if there are a few minor swerves in the way.

Regardless, purely from a compositional standpoint 45:33 succeeds remarkably, in that Murphy has managed to build a long-form song that holds up together for its entire duration. While there aren't any central melodies or leitmotifs that spring throughout, each part builds on from the previous one, taking its core and spinning it into another route, and the end part of that route is then transformed by the next section; while the sections therefore are ultimately 'individual', they share so much of the same DNA throughout that you get that they're part of the same song. And perhaps the only reason I notice these sections so clearly is because I happen to own this on a format that marks them separately - maybe if I had this as a single track, I wouldn't pay so much attention to this? Still, some of the indicated parts work better than others, admittedly: the cool cat lazy funk of Part 2 is a particular favourite, while the athletically energetic 5th part - which is all racing rhythm sections and quick horn stabs - gets a bit too samey already a few minutes in.

All that said, while it all holds up together well this isn't the kind of epic showcase that many other artists' album-length songs are. In the end it's a piece set to accompany a work-out session rather than careful listening, and so its aim is to keep a set pace rather than offer all the things you'd normally find in a LCD Soundsystem release. Its main importance to the greater mythos is that that arranging this arguably helped pave way for Murphy to utilise the tricks learned in his later dancefloor-ready cuts - as an actual song, it's an enjoyable ride but not one that's so striking that it really justifies a 46-minute listening session on its own. It's background music - foot-tapping, head-bopping background music of course, but still something to occupy a space where your focus is on something else. Its impressive in many ways, but not as a song per se.

The CD version also features a handful of Sound of Silver b-sides as bonus tracks (also released separately as the Confuse the Marketplace EP). "Freak Out/Starry Eyes" is another long-form LCD jam: the "Freak Out" half is slow and thick, all deep bass, sultry synths and funk horns, while "Starry Eyes" sounds like a synth remix of the first half. It's fine, but maybe not 12-and-half minute fine, though it's best of the three. The Onanistic Dub remix of "North American Scum" is your average kind of remix, i.e. one that's listenable but where barely any of the original track remains and which goes on for at least five minutes too long. "Hippie Priest Bum-Out" relatively speeds by in comparison to the other two songs, but while it's a nifty little instrumental jam with a particularly involved percussion section, it sounds like a sketch or a demo for something that would be developed further later on. For a completionist it's nice to have the b-sides but what Murphy showcases in the two originals, he's done it better on the actual albums.

Rating: 7/10

Ben Folds - Supersunnyspeedgraphic, the LP (2006)

1) In Between Days; 2) All U Can Eat; 3) Songs of Love; 4) There’s Always Someone Cooler than You; 5) Learn to Live With What You Are; 6) Bitches Ain’t Shit; 7) Adelaide; 8) Rent a Cop; 9) Get Your Hands Off My Woman (feat. Corn Mo); 10) Bruised; 11) Dog; 12) Still; 13) Bitches Ain’t Shit (Reprise) [hidden track]

Folds has always had a sense of humour, and out of all his albums it's this collection of odds, sods and alternate takes that really highlights it in his discography. 

Key tracks: "In Between Days", "Bruised", "Still"

Ben Folds was incredibly prolific between his first two solo albums, but you probably had no idea. After Rockin’ the Suburbs and presumably all the expectations that came with it, Folds wanted to return to the idea of simply writing and recordings songs for the sake it, with sharing them becoming a secondary concern. Between 2003-2004 he kept himself occupied in his own private studio, recording stylistic experiments, choice covers, old castaways and ideas for his next album and releasing them hap-hazardly in small batches as internet-only EPs: Speed Graphic, Sunny 16 and Super D under his own name and The Bens with other two Bens, Lee and Kweller.

Supersunnyspeedgraphic, the LP was released shortly after Songs for Silverman as both a nod to fans as well as a way for Folds to canonise some of his favourite cuts from the eclectic EP sessions by bringing them together into a ‘real’ release – and to sweeten the deal further, a few other non-album cuts from around the time that deserved better than to be forgotten in obscurity were added into the tracklist. Supersunnyspeedgraphic isn’t an all-encompassing catalogue of the sessions and due to its brevity it’s presented more like an album than a b-side compilation, even if stylistically it’s obviously all over the place: it’s happy to chuck in comedic covers and quirky goofball jams right next to sincere ballads and earnest anthems, but it does it in an appropriately Foldsian fashion that arguably describes him better than either the studio slickness of Rockin’ the Suburbs or the sombreness of Songs of Silverman alone could. The sound, too, is appropriately like the missing link between the two releases, keeping the playful nature of the former but moving towards the arrangements of the latter. The unique ingredient is the sheer fun of it all – Folds is clearly having a blast writing off-kilter character studies and fusing them with bouncy piano melodies, enjoying the relaxed nature of the sessions that produced the songs.

The centre-piece, the attention-hogger and likely the only reason this album ever made ripples outside the fanbase is undoubtedly the already-infamous version of “Bitches Ain’t Shit”, which did the whole sincere pop cover of a rap song thing way before it became a thing. The most miraculous thing about it is that it completely avoids the pitfall of being a novelty song that wears off really thin really fast. The arrangement is absolutely superb – all lush and moody – and best of all the performance takes itself completely seriously. There’s no “winky-winky look how funny and subversive we are” ethos behind it – it’s full of pathos instead, with a lot of surprisingly heartfelt delivery that at least attempts to pay respect to the original despite the inherent ludicrousness of it all. The version doesn’t rely just on the humorous absurdity of pale white guys reciting gangster rap lyrics with a serious face, and it ends up being actually quite brilliant with a lot of longevity to it.

As great as “Bitches Ain’t Shit” is, Supersunnyspeedgraphic is also much more and turns out to be a pretty fun album in itself. The other covers include a brilliantly rollicking take on The Cure’s “In Between Days” that threatens to be near-essential, The Divine Comedy’s “Songs of Love” that could have easily come from Folds’ own writing pen and a trash-the-piano, shout-duet version of The Darkness’ “Get Your Hands Off My Woman” that says ‘screw it’ at the delicacy of the other covers and just goes crazy. The Folds originals are largely a quirky mix of snarky commentary and curious humour, keeping the mood pretty light throughout. “All U Can Eat”, “Adelaide”, “Rent a Cop” and “There’s Always Someone Cooler than You” all compete on which could be the most sarcastically bitchy, while marrying the sentiments to various degrees of bouncy piano rock – only “All U Can Eat” goes for a subtler approach in its music but its expletive-laden lyrics sound just the more vicious for it.

There’s a few earnest parts scattered throughout the album in a way that juts out completely, and they end up being among its best. “Bruised” off The Bens EP (“the extended version!”) is a shining spotlight of arrangement and performance with its vocal harmonies and a killer chorus melody that the song builds up as it goes along. “Still”, taken off the Over the Hedge soundtrack (where Folds’ half of the score was the best thing about the film) takes the build-up angle and makes it the point, growing from a lightly arranged, hauntingly introspective ballad into a wall of sound in a dramatic, emotional fashion that really doesn’t befit the film it came from. Here, it sounds far more in place and gives the fantastic song a chance to become the solid part of Folds’ oeuvre it deserves. The promotional single “Learn to Live With What You Are” is a little too alike to Folds’ other string-laden torchlight anthems to truly leave a mark into his full discography, but here it represents that side largely on its own and its loveliness gets to shine for its duration.

When “Still” has finished, the notion that Supersunnyspeedgraphic is a collection of odds and sods has become easy to forget. Only the slightly half-baked “Dog” sounds like a typical off-cut – its ideas not supporting its length as much as it could - but the rest act as testament’s to Folds’ writing as well as his proper albums.  As an album it’s obviously an erratic little beast that goes all over the place, both because it’s a compilation as well as due to the “anything goes” nature of the sessions in the first place, but to Folds’ credit he’s curated the right material to be included and managed to make it into a consistent ride. One of the best compliments you can give to a b-side compilation (which is what this sort of is) is that it holds up strongly against the artist’s actual albums on its own and doesn’t feel like just a product for obsessive fans, and it’s a compliment that Supersunnyspeedgraphic easily deserves.

Rating: 7/10

Beck - The Information (2006)

1) Elevator Music; 2) Think I’m in Love; 3) Cellphone’s Dead; 4) Strange Apparition; 5) Soldier Jane; 6) Nausea; 7) New Round; 8) Dark Star; 9) We Dance Alone; 10) No Complaints; 11) 1000 BPM; 12) Motorcade; 13) The Information; 14) Movie Theme; 15) The Horrible Fanfare / Landslide / Exoskeleton Bonus track: 16) Inside Out

Rating: 8/10

That genre-bending eclecticism Beck's known for? Somehow he's managed to make it sound cohesive this time.

Key tracks: "Think I'm in Love", "Cellphone's Dead", "Nausea"

The Information isn't another stylistic transformation for Beck. The preceding Guero was a throwback to the indie rock/hip-hop mashup that Beck had made his name with and The Information is a smooth follow-up for it, Beck seemingly wanting to claim a particular signature style for himself after years of genre hopping. Smooth is an appropriate descriptor in general: The Information was produced by Nigel Godrich whose experience with many finely arranged rock albums layers The Information with a particular kind of well-oiled execution. The vast majority of Beck's albums are to be enjoyed with their warts and all - the motivation for teaming up with Godrich feels like an attempt to tackle that.

The Information sounds slick and sharp, a deliberate move away from the oft-ramshackle sounds of the past albums. The songs are fairly short with a few specific ideas and focal points each that Beck and Godrich concentrate on: a particular sonical element the song is built around, a specific rhythmic impact, a few notable hooks that everything else supports. You could call it economical, but focused is more appropriate. Beck's tendency to go everywhere with his mad creative streaks is as much of a thorn for his albums as it is a boon, but with The Information the goal has been to keep a careful eye on everything that's being done. If most of Beck's work before this has sounded like he turned up in the studio and improvised a hundred ideas within a few hours, The Information feels a little more workman-like: get in the room, fine-tune a few good ideas and push them as far as you can, and make sure it's all completed before moving onto the next.

If that sounds too rigid for Beck, The Information is very insistent on making it clear that it's anything but. A sense of looseness and playfulness is all over the album, quite literally - the album comes with a semi-randomised set of stickers you can use to create your own wacky cover if you wish (I will forever regret I attempted, graphic design is NOT my strong suite). The bonus DVD tacked onto some editions features videos for every song, starring Beck, his friends, a strange selection of seemingly random props and a green screen. The songs are short, snappy and restrained from going overboard but they're still fun: alongside the few earnest songs you have feel-good pop hits, apocalyptic rapping, hip-hop by way of a carnival march (Rio, not circus) and general joyous nonsense, with some general indie rock sensibility having been rubbed off on everything throughout by Godrich's influence. On top of that the album even actively samples itself, which doesn't just contribute to a more consistent production angle but actively makes it feel like Godrich and Beck were mischievously playing around with the studio equipment.



It's obvious that a lot of the good spirit emanating throughout the record comes from genuine musical inspiration, and with the concentrated effort to keep things derailing turning out to genuinely work, it means that The Information is a rare beast - a thoroughly excellent Beck album. The 15-strong tracklist stays tight, consistent and good throughout; the closing suite "The Horrible Fanfare/Landslide/Exoskeleton" feels like a deliberate antithesis to that with its 10-minute, multi-part collage build but even that's not a bad track per se either - just a small mess that's as charming as it is needlessly long. The flipside to that consistency is that The Information isn't an album which stacks up one classic after another either. It sails smoothly on a 7-8/10 level throughout the ride, with only a few back catalogue all-time best to its name: chiefly the wild & bonkers ramshackle acoustic punk percussion explosion "Nausea" and the aforementioned carnival hip hop jam "Cellphone's Dead" where the final build up is everything and among Beck’ top bits of music alone. Sure, there's other key tracks (the groovy "Elevator Music", the classic pop feel of "Strange Apparition", the atmospheric "Movie Theme" and "Think I'm in Love" which sounds like a mashup of the other three) which represent the album at its best in many ways, but they don't jump out that much from their peers. But they don't need to either - just being equally good to the rest is more than enough.

The Information is a funny one, in the sense that it's rarely the first album you - or even I - think of when Beck is mentioned: it's not his flashiest nor his most convention-breaking, and it doesn't house any of the big tracks most frequently attached to his name. It's deliberately a little restrained and in the background, doing its own thing rather than coming supplied with a big "Beck does X!" banner. And yet, it subtly and quietly shoots to the top of Beck's discography by simply being a consistently really good record that emphasises quality control over chameleon-like musical statements. That may not sound much, but in effect it makes one of the best journeys you can have with Beck and that's genuinely welcome.

My copy of the album comes with the bonus track "Inside Out", a single-trick groove jam. It's clear why it was left out of the album proper, but at the same time I've found myself enjoying it much more when I've let the album ran through it after everything else than when I've listened to it in isolation. Its no-frills, straightforward energy is a fitting epilogue to "The Horrible Fanfare/Landslide/Exoskeleton", a quick release of energy after the long chaotic suite. It's a nice additional chapter - by no means essential but one of the few cases where a bonus track actually feels like it adds something to the actual flow of the album.