R.E.M. - Live at the Olympia (2009)

CD1: 1) Living Well Is the Best Revenge; 2) Second Guessing; 3) Letter Never Sent; 4) Staring Down the Barrel of the Middle Distance; 5) Disturbance at the Heron House; 6) Mr. Richards; 7) Houston; 8) New Test Leper; 9) Cuyahoga; 10) Electrolite; 11) Man-Sized Wreath; 12) So. Central Rain; 13) On the Fly; 14) Maps and Legends; 15) Sitting Still; 16) Driver 8; 17) Horse to Water; 18) I'm Gonna DJ; 19) Circus Envy; 20) These Days
CD2: 1) Drive; 2) Feeling Gravity's Pull; 3) Until the Day Is Done; 4) Accelerate; 5) Auctioneer (Another Engine); 6) Little America; 7) 1,000,000; 8) Disguised; 9) The Worst Joke Ever; 10) Welcome to the Occupation; 11) Carnival of Sorts (Box Cars); 12) Harborcoat; 13) Wolves, Lower; 14) I've Been High; 15) Kohoutek; 16) West of the Fields; 17) Pretty Persuasion; 18) Romance; 19) Gardening at Night

We never got a proper, stand-alone live album from the early days but this'll do just as well. Nostalgia tripping, but with purpose and passion. 

Key tracks: Who could choose! And it's all really great anyway. May as well link to "Harborcoat" on the account there's a decent video of it.

"This is not a show". R.E.M. were very clear about pointing out the difference when hosting a five-night residency in Dublin's Olympia Theatre in 2007. It started out as an idea to quickly road test the new songs the band had been writing (most of which would see the light of day on the following year's Accelerate) in front of a small live audience, ironing out the bugs before heading to the studio. The idea soon turned into a full-on public practice session as the band wheeled out songs they had not played in decades, de-rusting them on the spot, while learning and rearranging their new material on a daily basis. The fans had a rare chance to get an intimate glimpse of their favourite band like they hadn't before - sharing their practice space. 

The band certainly felt at ease, despite the strange situation they had thrown themselves in. There's a marked difference between Live at the Olympia and the previous live album, 2007's Live, which featured a stadium band playing their hits like professionals working a shift. Live at the Olympia couldn't be any more different. Everyone's relaxed and loving it, trading comments back and forth between songs they're clearly having a great time with, with Stipe frequently breaking into entertaining, lengthy banter (most memorably when he addresses some ancient lyrics he's had to rely on the internet's interpretations on). The idea that this is a practice run is proven with a couple of mistakes left on tape, but they're more charming than anything, certainly when Stipe struggles to get back into the flow while stifling his own laughter. It's not just an atypical concert for the band, but it's not the kind of show you'd often think to record for a live release. The off-beatness makes it memorable though: a step beyond an intimate setting into a camaraderie-like relationship with the listener, smiling with the band like they're right there. It's a fun record, in ways you'd rarely come to expect from a live album.

The setlist is another big difference to the usual R.E.M. live footage. A good chunk of the band's lifetime from the 90s onward is passed by with barely a nod, and that includes all the big hits - no "Losing My Religion", no "Everybody Hurts", no "Imitation of Life", closest there is is "Drive". The main emphasis instead is on the 80s and specifically the band's years on the IRS label, which makes up the dominating majority of the 39 songs. Even then, they dodge the obvious big ones like "It's the End of the World" and in their place bring out an eclectic mix of fan favourite deep cuts, the band's own pet likes that haven't witnessed the light of day in decades and a few complete left-field obscurities (who even remembered that the rare soundtrack cut "Romance" existed in the first place?). Somehow the decades of difference have made them sound even more energetic than they did before: everyone is clearly loving the chance to blow the dust off these songs, like they're seeing old friends for the first time in forever, and the band inject an incredible amount of sheer force into each track. R.E.M. and their cohorts are on downright incredible form here, and any notion that this would just be a nostalgia-fest goes away fairly quickly just on the strength of the performance alone.

The select few songs from beyond the 80s are there to compliment the other songs, whether in sound (the guitar-crunchy "Circus Envy") or tone (the jovial mood of "Electrolite"). The always-incredible "New Test Leper" is the closest to an obvious selection on the entire album and it further reassures its place as one of the most quintessential R.E.M. songs that brings together the band's various facets, and here it's almost akin to a bridge between the eras. "I've Been High" is the most surprising inclusion and quickly becomes one of the highlights: the Reveal synth-ballad got a few stage reinventions during the band's autumn years and the gorgeous alt-country-esque take here is among the greatest. "The Worst Joke Ever" is presented like to prove a point, because when moved away from the overproduction of Around the Sun the strength of the actual song is allowed to shine, and it slots comfortably beside the rest of the back catalogue presented.

On the flipside of the all the golden oldies are the brand new soon-to-be Accelerate cuts scattered throughout, which have for the most parts already found their general shape save a few small arrangement details. The biggest difference is with "Superserious Supernatural", here still titled "Disguised" to emphasise how work-in-progress the song was as it apparently evolved across all five nights - the final night's version here still has a few major differences to the original (the choruses would eventually become the final bridge and the ending is completely different) and it's clearly not quite there yet, but it's an interesting alternative version. The other Accelerate songs largely also come across as well as they do on the actual album; their more naturally straightforward sound and the shared producer between the two albums makes them sound like slightly alternative takes. They're comfortable companions to the IRS songs: with Accelerate's origin being with the band bringing back their old, unused song drafts, there's a direct line you can trace between them and even the earliest material performed here.

The big fan bait are the two songs exclusive to this record: Accelerate candidates that didn't quite make the grade. "On the Fly" is a pretty torchsong that Stipe pegs down as his early favourite, its wailing guitars and atmospheric keyboards hitting heavy with melancholy. "Staring Down the Barrel of the Middle Distance" on the other hand has Accelerate's signature rock kick to it through and through, and somehow makes its clunky title into an efficient enough vocal hook. Neither of them are anything too exciting, unfortunately: "On the Fly" drags for a little too long while failing to hit the emotional cues it goes for, and "Barrel" comes across as a lesser version of all the other new songs that bear its style. If the two songs prove anything it's that R.E.M. generally have a good judgment on the material they take to the studio: nonetheless, for any big-time fan they're two nice curios to enjoy.

The whole angle of Live at the Olympia points to a curio release overall: the haphazard nature of the gig and the hit-dodging setlist choices mark this one as clearly for the biggest of fans, more so than your average live release. To just file it under that niche category does it a disservice though. Chronologically this is the beginning of the all-out rock and roll direction R.E.M. headed for their last stretch, and it doubles up as both a prologue and a mission overview. The pure energy that flows through the set is genuinely thrilling and engaging, and even though the anniversary re-releases have now brought forward more live material from the actual 80s, hearing R.E.M. revisit their oldest material with the seasoned grip of skillful veterans is a genuine treat (and this is coming from someone who thinks the band's peak golden years started in the 90s). Or to put it this way: it's a live album where I feel excited when listening to it, like I'm genuinely present in the moment and sharing it with the band themselves. There's a lot of R.E.M. live material out there these days and while a lot of it is important in its own way, Live at the Olympia is arguably one the more essential of the lot: even with the intentionally restricted set list, it does an incredible job in highlighting how strong they were on stage.

Rating: 8/10

John Frusciante - Outsides EP (2013)

1) Same; 2) Breathiac; 3) Shelf

Three tracks worth of Frusciante tinkering with his music programs and little else. 

Key tracks: "Same"

Calling Outsides an EP in the greater sense of being a bite-size cohesive body of work is a bit of a misnomer. It's more of a single with two b-sides, except the single is a 10-minute experimental cut.

That song, "Same", is a 10½ minute guitar solo backed by a short drum loop, which Frusciante chops up and repurposes and rearranges throughout those ten minutes in a variety of ways. The solo is merely an excuse for him to test loop manipulation and the song doesn't particularly grow or intensify during its length, but still morphs restlessly as the same beats switch shapes. It's the best song overall on the EP, genuinely good even, but after the first 6-7 minutes it's said everything has to say and the rest is simply made for zoning out if you're in that kind of mood. And it's certainly better than its "b-sides". "Breathiac" is a pile of noise and the worst thing Frusciante has committed on record since the 90s drug days finished - it's a mishmash of dissonant sound with no reason or rhyme, and it's hard to really think what Frusciante aimed to do with it. "Shelf" doesn't begin any better and is initially just a half-brained sound collage, but towards the end an actual song begins to emerge and the final couple of minutes actually get genuinely good, offering exactly the kind of artsy synth pop John promised back when he first announced going electronic. 

The common thread between the three songs is the sound of Frusciante moving further with electronic sound, somewhere more abstract and, at least within his own scope, boundary-breaking. The crux is that they're experiments first, songs second if even considered at all. Outsides is for Frusciante first and foremost, and I can't help but think that the sole reason why there's an official release of this for a wider audience is more to do with the label than Frusciante having a particular artistic itch to scratch. It has its enjoyable parts but none of it feels like it has any impact, whereas Frusciante's prior EPs at least had some element that might bring you back to it later. Outsides isn't a weak release as much as it is forgettable; the sort of thing that even a big time fan could foresee themselves giving a pass.

Rating: 5/10

LCD Soundsystem - LCD Soundsystem (2005)

CD1: 1) Daft Punk Is Playing at My House; 2) Too Much Love; 3) Tribulations; 4) Movement; 5) Never as Tired as When I'm Waking Up; 6) On Repeat; 7) Thrills; 8) Disco Infiltrator; 9) Great Release
CD2: 1) Losing My Edge; 2) Beat Connection; 3) Give It Up; 4) Tired; 5) Yeah (Crass Version); 6) Yeah (Pretentious Version); 6) Yr City's a Sucker (Full Version)

A slightly slapdash establishment of the basics of James Murphy and LCD Soundsystem, and some essential non-album singles bundled together to both support and carry the official debut.

Key tracks: "Daft Punk Is Playing at My House", "Tribulations", "Losing My Edge"

Much like Murphy's self-cultivated image as the guy who's slept in the same suit for a full weekend, the self-titled debut for LCD Soundsystem is stylishly unkempt. Murphy was a producer, a DJ and a label head who found himself to be above average age in the crowds he was hanging out with and then made a snarky one-off song about it for his own fun, which then ballooned into a full-time band. So, the self-titled debut album for that band isn't a cry of passion from a set of young hopefuls, but rather a producer mashing together collected ideas from the past three decades of dance and rock music, like a DJ mixing his own songs. It's irreverent, but that's also its charm. At this stage LCD Soundsystem was still more about singles than albums, and the debut is really just around because he found an audience that wanted one. No grand statements or glimpses into the inner state of its creator just yet: it's all about having a good time in a way only tragically cool urbanites can.

There's a real act of fan service here in that the second disc that is included as standard with the album collects all the loosies released prior to the album. The mix of foot-tapping indie disco, ragged garage rock and off-kilter pop hooks is something that would form the backbone of the actual album too, so both discs are kindred spirits in that regard, but the one-offs are naturally a bit more uninhibited and some of the essential LCD Soundsystem cuts are in fact gathered among them. "Losing My Edge" is the obvious one, of course: Murphy's debut single is a glorious seven-and-half minute sardonic rant sent to a slick groove, it's full of immortal and infinitely quotable lines and it culminates in the most beautifully manic listing of one's record shelf in a fit of madness dear and near to any music geek's heart. It's a perfect debut single in how it establishes everything there is to know about LCD Soundsystem right from the get-go, from Murphy's dry delivery and the wit in his words to the music built on repetitive but gradually intensifying jamming, all introduced clearly. The "crass version" of "Yeah" is another mainstay favourite, offering more of that extended jamming in what is one of Murphy's best long-form dance-offs, and with other highlights like the brilliantly punchy house deep cut "Beat Connection" or the 'pretentious' brother of "Yeah" (instrumental but longer and slightly fancier arrangement), the pseudo-bonus disc would be worth the price of admission alone. The only real below-par song is "Tired", a stab at grimy garage rock which later morphs into a more recognisable LCD Soundsystem form but never shakes off coming across as an ill-fitting set of clothes you're trying to force yourself into.

The difference between the one-offs and the actual album is that the latter is a little tighter in its composition, with its shorter songs steering clear of too much jamming and with some semblance of a cohesive structure in tow. Only some; the nature of the album is still more resembling of a curated mixtape, flipping between styles and sounds. Some of these would form the basis of LCD Soundsystem to come, e.g. the swerve, swagger and post-millennium ironic snark of "Daft Punk Is Playing at My House" would form the pattern for many of Murphy's later lead singles. Others are curio snapshots of Murphy trying his hand out with different things without a greater plan in mind: the ragged near-punk of "Movement" is more of Murphy's early fascinations with something rowdier and "Never as Tired as When I'm Waking Up" is a 90s alt rock ballad through and through, and neither sound would make another appearance again after this album. While those offshoots have their charms (I have a particular affinity towards the somber laziness and nostalgic guitar of "Never as Tired..." especially), the strengths of the tracklist lie clearly in the material Murphy would later choose to expand upon. The lightning-in-a-bottle feeling of "Daft Punk Is Playing at My House" is enduringly exciting in its wonderful 'dance hit for people who are too cool to dance' aesthetic and the synth-heavy floor fillers "Tribulations", "Too Much Love" and "Disco Infiltrator" deliver the hooks like uppercuts, striking right to the nerve. Of these, "Tribulations" especially is a bit of a hiden gem: its urgency and a more fixated tone is a mile away from the rest of the album and it picks up steam brilliantly as it progresses until it sounds like Murphy is fighting to steer it.

If not already apparent, the accurate take to take away from the album is that's more of a blueprint or a template for later works. Whether or not Murphy foresaw himself taking the band beyond this in the first instance is one thing, but it's evident that at this stage he was still testing the waters and stretching his wings, operating on a more single-oriented mindset even within the actual album. They're fun waters and LCD Soundsystem has nothing to be ashamed of next to its more famous counterparts, but it's decidedly a little rough around its edges and while the Murphy trademarks are on full display, the overall sound is lacking the later albums' greater vision and realisation of how he can merge the extroverted and introverted. It's also an odd case where the "bonus" disc is just as if not even more essential than the album itself: the two really are rather inseparable even if they're ultimately independent works, and as a full package this is so much more because of its inclusion. Summa summarum, Murphy and co's debut is a lot of fun and is full of charm, but it's very rarely anything actually essential; it's a slapdash party album for music nerds who don't want to go to parties and doesn't set its sights beyond it, but it's got the hooks and grooves to make it a load of fun regardless.

Rating: 7/10

Rubik - Jesus Vs. People (2007)

CD1 (Jesus): 1) Jesus; 2) Motorik Haiku; 3) Telec; 4) Swim Swim Swim; 5) Hell=; 6) Yes I Know But Thank You Anyway
CD2 (People Go Missing): 1) Telecvokning; 2) Haiku Motorik; 3) Don't Take a Swim; 4) Feel Like a Spark; 5) (untitled); 6) Just Heads Dropping

A set of two EPs: one the band's debut EP, the second a reimagination of it. Musically and conceptually intriguing.

Key tracks: "Haiku Motorik" / "Motorik Haiku"

Jesus vs People pulls together two EPs from both sides of Rubik’s debut Bad Conscience Patrol. On one side you have the debut EP People Go Missing, while the other is a set of new songs dubbed the Jesus EP, named after and tied behind the radio mix of the Bad Conscience Patrol cut “Jesus/Hypnotist”. The really interesting thing comes with the tracklists - half of Jesus features half of People Go Missing, re-envisioned and re-recorded by a now more experienced and adventurous band. What could just have been a re-release or a set of stop gap songs in-between albums is now instead a fascinating snapshot of a band in development, hinting at the future by reworking their own past. 

People Go Missing managed to create a bit of a buzz around the band when it was first released, including myself, and if there’s one specific reason for that it’s “Haiku Motorik”. Early Rubik were moody and intense, coming across as a mixture of Radiohead’s atmospherics and Mew’s dynamics, and “Haiku Motorik” was where the two met perfectly. Initially propelled by a steady beat and a twinkling piano melody, it eventually explodes into a swarm of guitars, keyboards and sheer muscular power as if by a flick of a switch - and for myself and I presume for many others, that flick is the moment when Rubik went from a better-than-average MySpace act to a genuine point of interest. It’s still by and far the best thing on the EP and a highlight even in the overall discography, its primal power never getting old. It’s bookended by good company: the creeping, stop-start/quiet/loud starter “Telecvokning” gets into a good swing with its guitar-heavy choruses (it’s easy to forget how guitar-driven this band was in the early days) even if the constant pauses start eating the song away a little towards the end, while “Don’t Take a Swim” completes the great starter trilogy with its laidback lounge groove that builds up nicely during its runtime, complete with some deliciously earworm-y melodies and details. The second half of the EP doesn’t quite measure up to its first: there’s a clear focus on slow-building creep and further quiet/loud dynamics, but while the calmer “Feel Like a Spark” and the rawer “Just Heads Dropping” (as well as the untitled instrumental interlude) are fine, they’re clearly cut from a less memorable cloth than the first three songs. 

Which is why it makes sense that it’s the first half that’s been chosen to go through the facelift process on the newer half of the collection. The Jesus EP foreshadows the band’s move away from the more traditional rock sound of their debut into a more developed sound of their own, toning away some of the guitars and beginning to introduce new sonic elements – in this EP’s case it mainly manifests in some electronic flavourings. “Motorik Haiku” is the clearest example as the original’s name is flipped and its sound turned into a full-on electronica/synth-pop form, with the previous structure and arrangement twisted and played around with. It’s enjoyable and groovy in its own way, but the dynamics have been smoothened out as well and the result isn’t as explosive as the original. “Telecvokning” (now just “Telec”) on the other hand gets a rekindled fire under its belly with some processed sound that underline the atmosphere, a more powerful production that really gives it an oomph and a more consistently rocking finale in place of the original’s dynamic flips. “Swim Swim Swim” keeps mostly to the original, but it speeds up the tempo into a rapid shuffle. It could go either way – I prefer the surreal chill vibe of the original but the band sound more hyped up in the remake, and they both have their strengths to an equal degree. 

The last two songs on Jesus are new to the EP, but still follow the footsteps of People Go Missing by ending the suite on two slow, atmospheric dirges. Much like with the first EP as well, these are lesser works compared to the rest; though, that said, “Hell=” turns out be an understatedly pretty song that almost becomes a highlight of its own, thanks to its admittedly nifty guitar work. The apocalyptic “Yes I Know But Thank You Anyway” builds wall of sound around itself as it grows into its booming ending, but for all the dramatic bluster it still struggles to stand out. In addition to the two final songs, there’s also the lead-in track “Jesus”, originally one of Bad Conscience Patrol’s highlights with its unexpextedly softer and lusher tone. Now the extended collapse and rebuild of its middle section has been chopped off and it carries a more radio-shiny mixing courtesy of outside mixer Michael Ilbert, but it’s hardly a radical reworking and all the song’s strengths are still intact. It’s a little superfluous and out of place here, carrying little similarity to any of the other five songs, but it’s still a lovely song - and out of everything on the EP, it’s “Jesus” that would signal the band’s upcoming progression the clearest.

Neither of the two EPs are all-out great as they both fizzle out towards the end, but the inclusion of the Jesus side in the first place turns both into something more interesting than the pure sum of their parts. They’re not only just an interesting duo to compare and contrast with each other (clearly intended by the band), but it quickly yet effectively doubles up the amount of great moments. Even if they’re interpretations of the same material, they’re fully distinct enough for neither to fully overthrow the other. This is obviously a curio grab for the bigger fans and the main attraction is the re-issue of People Go Missing, but the band were kind enough to make it more than just a plain re-release. 

Rating: 7/10

Regina - Katso maisemaa (2005)

1) Elokuva; 2) Pidä varasi, tyttö!; 3) Tokio; 4) Katso maisemaa; 5) Olisitko sittenkin halunnut palata; 6) Kohtaamisia kaupungissa; 7) Pieni ystävä; 8) Nyt on jo myöhäistä; 9) Uusi resepti; 10) Minua ollaan vastassa

Retro kitsch synth pop. Doesn't quite ride its concept as far as it could but gets almost there.

Key tracks: "Pidä varasi, tyttö!", "Katso maisemaa", "Olisitko sittenkin halunnut palata"

In this day and age Katso maisemaa might not seem like much of a big deal stylistically: enticingly 80s-inspired production together with a female singer full of personality is commonplace as anything. In Finland though, and in 2005? This was wild. And it still kind of is, or at least it has stayed remarkably fresh because Regina go over and beyond that descriptor on the album. Here Regina sound like the concept came first and the band was formed solely to make it come true: songs that curtsy around retro sounds and revelling in careful simplicity in how it’s been written, musically and lyrically. Iisa’s child-like delivery and the naïvely direct lyrics about everyday things (watching a movie, moving house, looking at the scenery on a road trip) are right in the forefront and blur the line between knowing winks and genuine expression, and the music desires to be catchy so unashamedly that the song about going to Tokyo features a koto-esque melody and sudden Japanese words - which of course it would. Katso maisemaa is so twee it’s practically kitsch.

The sheer dedication to their chosen musical concept makes the first four songs of Katso maisemaa still a thoroughly giddy, incredibly charming little journey into a world where everything can be seen through wide-eyed wonder and there’s a big hook around each corner to accompany it. “Pidä varasi, tyttö!” still feels like a signature song for the band even if they abandoned the style it represents right after this album: its three minutes are a near-perfect condensation of Katso maisemaa, as Iisa warns about the bad girl in school over a ridiculously addictive chorus that bounces around so jubilantly. The only real niggle is that it’s perhaps a little too pristine for its bedroom production aesthetic: I don’t mean to go all “the demo is better” here but I have heard the originally released the demo and the slightly more lo-fi soundscape does suit the retroism better. “Elokuva” and “Tokio” are bright and colourful energy rushes that suit the unicorn reindeers and rainbow comets of the album cover perfectly, and together the three songs form an introduction that still sounds fresh and genuinely gets you giddy. The title track rounds off the start perfectly: there’s a bittersweet tang to its atmospheric swoops and dreamy textures, and the way they build up make the premise of simply watching the world go by from the passenger seat feel otherworldly. It’s the best song on the album, and befittingly to its theme it’s also a milestone on the album’s flow because after it, Regina changes things up slightly.

It’s not too radical - the shtick is still firmly there - but Regina start thinking beyond their concept for the latter half of the album. The songs begin to introduce little added nuances beyond the faithful verse-chorus-verse template and extend their lengths, the mood starts to vary from technicolour explosion and the lyrics start tackling adult relationships, albeit still in a charmingly direct fashion. It’s welcome because a full album of Regina’s brand of musical cotton candy might have been a little too much ten songs in a row, but more seriously toned songs like “Olisitko sittenkin halunnut palata” and “Nyt on jo myöhäistä” move some of the overt cutesiness aside at a comfortable pace. The former manages to launch a formidable build-up towards the end despite its short length and “Nyt on jo myöhäistä” has brilliant house piano breakdowns cutting through its tense urgency. Admittedly, on a more general note the latter stages of Katso maisemaa aren’t as immediate (or excellent) as its first run of songs, and the almost annoying “Uusi resepti” is a decent example of how badly Regina’s chosen style could easily bite against them, utilising every trick in their bag in a somewhat more grating way. In fact, apart from “Minua ollaan vastassa” which closes the album in a more solemn rendition of what the first set of songs aimed to do, towards the end Regina are in danger of becoming a little too ordinary for their own good. It’s a dangerously front-stacked album.

But don’t let that tarnish the fun too much. Katso maisemaa is still an inspired, engaging album which succeeds in sounding one-of-a-kind even as rest of the world caught up - and Regina’s own decision to move away from its sound after its release certainly helped with that. It’s not anything more than a fun pop record but Regina make it their own: you can’t mistake the 30-odd minutes they’ve created here for anyone else’s creation. In the end what stops it hitting any higher echelons isn’t the fault of the style in one direction or another, and regardless, what you have is still a good album and one impression-leaving debut.

Rating: 7/10

John Frusciante - Letur-Lefr EP (2012)

1) In Your Eyes; 2) 909 Day; 3) Glowe; 4) FM; 5) In My Light

Round one for Frusciante's re-invention. An EP of one-offs before the actual album, but somehow this pulls the trick far better than its big brother.

Key tracks: "909 Day", "In My Light"

John Frusciante officially confirmed his departure from the Red Hot Chili Peppers at the end of 2009, though he'd been unofficially out of the picture for a little bit longer than that. One of the reasons cited was getting tired of the rock star life and the music he was playing; so, after moving away from the Peppers, he pushed his guitar to the side and started focusing on electronic music. 2012 would also see the debut release of Frusciante's new chapter, PBX Funicular Intaglio Zone, but it was first preceded by Letur-Lefr EP: described as the pathway to Frusciante realising his new vision, it was meant to consist of random songs that Frusciante created while still developing the sound he was aiming for. Now, you can easily make the argument that it probably benefits from its shorter length, but for a set of trial runs Letur-Lefr is actually a far tighter body of work than the main album.

Much like PBX Funicular Intaglio Zone, Letur-Lefr's theme is Frusciante exploring new territories, but unlike the subsequent album, Letur-Lefr is much more playful about it. Perhaps chalk that down to it effectively being a collection of things done just for fun, but where PBX has the sound of an ambitious project being let down by its creator's choice of production, Letur-Lefr is giddy with new ideas. There's a fair few ideas new to Frusciante's solo records scattered across even only these five songs, and particularly from a production standpoint the new era seems to be as much about Frusciante fitting himself into that role above being the sole frontman. There's a great hip-hop influence throughout and a handful of rappers, most prominently RZA and Kinetic9, feature throughout and on "FM" Frusciante takes the backseat completely from the way of the guests, which acts like a surprisingly successful try-out for a new job as a hip-hop producer (Frusciante would in fact go on to produce a full album for Black Knights later on, though I've not heard how well this turned out).

Synthesizers and drum machines aren't a new thing for Frusciante but the heavy emphasis on drum loops in particular really characterises both the sound of the EP as well as its playfulness. The brief instrumental "Glowe" is effectively just a series of different sampled loops glued onto each other by a simple guitar line, but even at barely a minute long with little in the way of a grand idea, it sounds like a ton of fun was had piecing the jigsaw together and it manages to create a hectic groove for itself. "909 Day" is a similar sort of near-instrumental musical quilt collection, and has a similar infectious joy to its wild abandon of throwing everything into the mix - but then halfway flicks into a drastically different gear, its synth stabs moving towards something more epic and atmospheric as the vocals return.

The biggest difference between the EP and the subsequent album are how those abrupt musical changes and beat switches, which would become the signature elements for this electronic period, sound far more more natural and in control here - which, once again, is the opposite of what you'd expect from a series of supposed experiment takes. Perhaps because these were written and recorded during a transitional period of sorts, the songs still take influence from the songwriting and arrangement ideas of Frusciante's prior decade of music, but they're now fearlessly mashed together with all the new ideas he's hatching. If the big center of the EP is the wild west of those ideas, then it's the bookends that really shine the strengths of the new course. Frusciante dubbed his new style as "progressive synth-pop" and "In Your Eyes" and "In My Light" exemplify this the best: both are almost hook-driven and sound both familiar as well as unique to Frusciante's back catalogue, and while they twist and turn and change shape, there's always a red line running throughout them. "In My Light" is particularly brilliant -  it's probably the best thing to come out of this entire period for Frusciante, primarily because of its first half that for an all-too-brief moment becomes a stunningly glorious ascent of swirling synths and falsetto. The song then quickly leaves that section behind and takes the flight following that ascent, racing around briefly like it's already doing victory laps, before settling down again. It goes from aching to awestruck and back again in an impressive instant.

At little over ten minutes Letur-Lefr is over annoyingly quickly, but the more I listen to this chapter of Frusciante's 2012 release couplet, the more it feels like this is the more important piece purely in terms of its quality and the enjoyment derived from it. PBX Funicular Intaglio Zone, while enjoyable to a degree, is a direct continuation of the themes explored here but the wrong lessons have been learned, leading to an ultimatly disjointed album. Letur-Lefr is chaotic as well, but the actual songs sound positively empowered by it while still holding together within their own confinements. You can tell it's a practice round by how it sounds like a sketch page of ideas dotted around, but Frusciante clearly had a really good time trying out each of those ideas and that results in a set of short but really good songs, the likes of which I would happily listen for another ten minutes or more.

Rating: 8/10

John Frusciante - The Empyrean (2009)

1) Before the Beginning; 2) Song to the Siren; 3) Unreachable; 4) God; 5) Dark/Light; 6) Heaven; 7) Enough of Me; 8) Central; 9) One More of Me; 10) After the Ending

A cohesive tracklist, an expanded studio palette and a concept to tie it all together - Frusciante expands his boundaries again as a culmination of his past decade of solo records.

Key tracks: "Song to the Siren", "Unreachable", "Central"

The last time Frusciante was releasing music under his own name, it was a show-off of inspiration: several albums worth of music all recorded in a handful of binge sessions and later assorted into a variety of records, all released within the space of twelve months. This was then followed up a few years later by the release of Stadium Arcadium with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, a scattershot double album which was another result of vastly fruitful recording sessions where no one nixed any song stem that someone thought up. You could imagine that The Empyrean began as an intentional counterpoint for all of that, just to switch things up. It's only ten songs, all of which were designed from the beginning to be firmly together: an album designed as an album first and foremost, with little extra material beyond what was meant to be within it in the first place.

The Empyrean is a concept album but as usual for Frusciante, the lyrics are fairly oblique and more interested in imagery than a solid narrative; so, unless you go actively digging for it the actual story is fairly hard to track and there's a degree of that being intentional. It's meant to be a metaphysical narrative of sorts of an artist dying (literally or metaphorically), traveling through afterlife, confronting God and his own soul, and finding meaning in the universe through art... or something along those lines. When asked, even Frusciante's own explanations have been full of words like "probably" and "maybe", and it's obvious it was never meant to be a clear story as much as it is a framework for the music. In fact, beyond the obvious connections in the song titles nudging towards a greater concept it might not even be that obvious that this is a concept album. But how that concept manifests itself more concretely is in the music itself: the way it's arranged, the way the album flows, the little links or shared melodies across the songs. It's very obvious that a great amount of time has been spent on how the actual album progresses, far more than on any Frusciante album before. Even if you can't find a story in the words, it's obviously in the music.

I want to in particular geek out about the opening trio here: a brilliant showcase of sustaining a mood and building up a resolution across several tracks, with the most patient opening Frusciante has ever featured across his records. Normally his albums open up with their respective signature cuts that introduce the chosen sound with the most instant melodies of the record; instead, "Before the Beginning" is a nine-minute slow-burner instrumental, mainly featuring Frusciante expanding on a relatively simple solo melody with his guitar atop a simple, steady drum beat. It's little more than an intro that could have probably been several minutes shorter, but its long lead-in is a scene-setter for the full album, a lead-in for the listener to sink into. The Tim Buckley cover "Song to the Siren" is a gentle continuation, introducing Frusciante's voice for the first time on the record. The calm pace is kept but instrumentation now expanded and arrangements getting more detailed, and Frusciante interprets the song beautifully - it very much is a literal siren song beckoning the listener deeper into the sound, and it's one of the most vulnerably beautiful pieces Frusciante has committed on record. The almost cold open of "Unreachable" is the wake-up call after the two dreamers before it. Its steady pace is reminiscent of "Before the Beginning" just with a brisker touch, but eventually it culminates into a furious crescendo that finally, after two and a half songs, kicks the album truly into motion. If that sounds like a really slow, meandering opening, it's anything but: the way the opening trio is paced and quietly builds up on one another as a long-form slide into the album's world is spectacular, and when "Unreachable" unfurls after all that subtle build-up, it's phenomenal.

The Empyrean features a similar sort of arrangement galore throughout. The flow of the album is brilliant and there's a clear indication it was designed from the get-go to be listened to as a whole unit. There's little arrangement delights throughout both musically and from a more meta perspective: songs called "Enough of Me" and "One More of Me" that share the same melody, surrounding a song titled "Central" is just the most overt of them. The aim to create a musical narrative leads to a cohesive but an increasingly free-form nature of the actual song structures to guide the ebb and flow of the drama rather than racing for the ABABCB structure, and together with the often extended lengths of the songs Frusciante's familiar songwriting style has gained a gentle prog rock undercurrent. To complement this, The Empyrean also features the richest sound Frusciante has ever featured on his albums to help bring all the nuances to life. It's an all-star cast ranging from frequent solo collaborator Josh Klinghoffer and RHCP-bandmate Flea dealing with most of the rhythm section throughout the album, to one-off guest spots like Johnny Marr (on "Central", where his guitar either drowns under Frusciante's or he chooses to imitate Frusciante's style). A string quartet features regularly - a Frusciante first - to lend select songs a slightly more epic scope. It's all very uncharacteristically indulgent for Frusciante, but after a series of records that had a humble, home-recorded sound, it's positively boastful.

Where it only so slightly falters is that so much of the album is dedicated to act as one narrative piece, that when considered piece-by-piece it comes across less impressive. Apart from the opening trio there's only two other big stand-out songs scattered across The Empyrean, and it's the two lengthy ones, "Dark/Light" and "Central". The other songs feel like they've been written primarily to pad the narrative forward, enjoyable as they are. For example, the keyboard-heavy rock-out "God" and the more traditionally Frusciante-like autumnal mid-tempo "Enough of Me" are good songs, and I particularly love the penultimate section of "Enough of Me" as the song switches onto a brighter note; but measure them against earlier album deep cuts and they're not quite as exciting after all. It's the same across the rest. "After the Ending" makes for a really effective closer with its atmospheric and slightly ethereal sound, sending the listener alongside the protagonist to some great void into the unknown, but as a song it's not much to write home about; "One More of Me" is mainly notable for Frusciante adopting an oddly guttural singing voice and for being a sneaky reprise; and "Heaven" simply sinks between more memorable cuts. For a person like me who always makes too much of a point about the context of the whole album and who listens to these things in full more often than not, this shouldn't really be an issue - and it's not, because while it's on The Empyrean makes a very good sonical journey, in particular through a good set of headphones. But when it takes a good moment or two to remember how some of these songs go following a regular stint of listening to the album, something's a little amiss enough to point it out

But you do have those two latter-album highlights, and what songs those two are. "Dark/Light" moves from a glacial and solemnly spatial piano piece to a bright, choir-starring call-and-answer cut that might go on a little bit too long perhaps, but the switch between the two sounds is a delight each time and the "Light" section is full of wonderful elements, from the choir trading lines with Frusciante to the lively bass riff that's jamming its own thing over the simple drum machine. "Central" is the centerpiece colossus, the Moment that the rest of the album seems to build up to and then spends the remainder recovering from - it sees Frusciante firing at all guns to create a monster of an anthem, with roaring guitar solos, string sections, intense vocals, explosive breakdowns... you name it. It's a huge song and a powerhouse of a performance that sounds almost unhinged if not for the clear precision in its production. Both move well beyond Frusciante's typical musical borders in scope, showing off he can do something larger than life if his mood strikes right. The album would be a greatly lesser work without them, both from the perspective of how much life they bring to the sequence but just from a quality perspective as well; the latter, in particular, is the real winner of the record and the one that rises above everything else the most.

The Empyrean would go to close off an era for Frusciante. The 2000s were a humongous decade for the man musically, not just as as a wildly prolific and consistent solo artist but at the same time also leading the Chili Peppers through the most successful part of their career, solidifying himself as the all-time iconic guitarist for the band who had seen so many of them come and go. Roll forward to the next decade and Frusciante would leave the Peppers for good and subsequently reinvent himself musically, leaving behind his standard rock background and ditching his guitar behind with it. It's hard not to then see The Empyrean as something of a culmination point for the decade it closes off. It's a sum of all the lessons learned and tricks showcased throughout the past decade before they were to be washed away, from distilling its tracklist to the very essentials rather than sprawling 15+ song albums, to bringing back a full-fledged studio production without straying too far away from the living room warmth of the 2004/2005 set of releases. After a decade of sprawling records and recording sessions there's finally an album that's a cohesive unit from its origination to the final release, as if to finally give a nod to certain parts of the audience and say it's always been possible, just never been in the mindset for it. For all that I give it the applause it deserves, because above all The Empyrean is a gorgeously constructed whole - in the right context and place it's absolutely a journey that seizes the attention. It only really suffers when compared against its kin in a wider context, but artistically it's a showcase for Frusciante and at its best it's downright brilliant, even if its sole focus in its own singular experience can be both a boon and fault. It's only that which makes me downrate this slightly; most days of the year I'd find myself moving towards another solo record of his simply because they're stronger to stand out, and that ends up accounting in the rating. It's only when it's on that I actually remember the strengths of The Empyrean.

Rating: 7/10