Hiatus: 50 songs

Contemplating three years' cultural diet. Secondly, the music.

Returning to Edinburgh has kicked the blog back to life after three years of repose. Having already picked over the best films I've seen during this hiatus, now comes the opportunity to select fifty music tracks I have discovered (belatedly in many cases), and which then took me over and were played again and again.

Many songs have brought fun – those which found me dancing on repeat include Basement Jaxx, Lizzo, Camp Lo and Teena Marie. Some have a more emotional pull and will always, for me, be tied to a time and place; the Mark Kozelek, Francis Harris and Aretha Franklin tracks have each had an impact.

There is music new and old to consider. New music has taken a back seat the past few months whilst I have become thoroughly obsessed with Andy Kellman's excellent and comprehensive R&B blog. It's been a deep and extended dive into this world, only partially reflected below; but I am sure I will resurface at some point soon to try some fresher produce again. These things happen in cycles.

This list might not consistently reflect the very best music I have heard in this time, although much of it is sublime. These grooves and jams are the ones which embedded themselves. This is a more personal list than the films and compiling it a more personal quest. The fifty tracks tell a story of three years of my life.

A Spotify playlist appears after the list, which is presented in High Fidelity-style autobiographical order. Please listen.

Matthew Dear – Her Fantasy
Toy – Heart Skips a Beat
Spoek Mathambo feat. Yolanda – Let Them Talk
John Talabot feat. Pional – Destiny
El-P – Request Denied
Villagers – The Waves
John Grant – Pale Green Ghosts
Louis Armstrong and His Hot Five – Fireworks
Basement Jaxx – Back 2 the Wild
Deerhunter – Dream Captain 

Arctic Monkeys – Crying Lightning
Oneohtrix Point Never – Boring Angel
Tricky – Aftermath
Kelela – Bank Head (Extended)
Lizzo feat. Sophia Eris – Batches & Cookies
Billie Holiday & Her Orchestra – Strange Fruit
Triosk – Lost Broadcast
David Bowie – Jump They Say
Wild Beasts – Wanderlust
Mark Kozelek & Jimmy LaValle – Gustavo

Jimmy Hughes – Steal Away
Jimmy Scott – Sycamore Trees
Kate Bush – Lyra (The Golden Compass)
Ono with The Brother Brothers – Yes, I'm a Witch
Digable Planets – Rebirth of the Slick (Cool Like Dat)
Zebra Katz feat. Njena Reddd Foxxx – Ima Read
Yarbrough & Peoples – Don't Stop the Music
Bonobo – Noctuary
Teena Marie – I Need Your Lovin'
Camp Lo – Luchini AKA This Is It

The Time – 777-9311
Stevie Wonder – Do I Do
Zapp – More Bounce to the Ounce
George Benson – Turn Your Love Around
Cherrelle – I Didn't Mean to Turn You On
Shabazz Palaces – Forerunner Foray
Francis Harris – What She Had
Aretha Franklin – Call Me
The S.O.S. Band – Just Be Good to Me
Michael Jackson – Who Is It

Rick James – Big Time
Donny Hathaway – Giving Up
Herbert – Something Isn't Right
Blackstreet feat. Dr. Dre & Queen Pen – No Diggity
Erykah Badu – On & On
En Vogue – Hold On
Gladys Knight & The Pips – Midnight Train to Georgia
Bobby Womack – Across 110th Street
Ann Peebles – I Can't Stand the Rain
Ólafur Arnalds & Alice Sara Ott – Verses

Note: sadly, Breakdown by Prince and The Screams of Passion by The Family (written and mostly performed by Prince) are not available on Spotify. Happily, this made room for Kate Bush and George Benson. Enjoy!

Waltraud Meier & Joseph Breinl

After something of a silence I return, boldly reaching into the deeper blogosphere.

Fortunate enough to be part of this year's official blogging team for the Edinburgh International Festival, my first assignment has been posted here. I saw mezzo-soprano Waltraud Meier (dressed in splendid pink) singing Lieder at the Usher Hall, accompanied by Joseph Breinl on piano.  It was all jolly good fun.

In all, I will be seeing seven concerts at the EIF this year (some assigned, others of my own volition). The International Festival has long been my favourite of the patchwork of festivals going on in Edinburgh each summer. Look out for the reviews to see why.

Dracula: the Music and Film

Children of the night. What music they make.



Bela, Philip and friends (photo credit: widdowquinn)

Unassuming and droll, Philip Glass surely ranks amongst the Pleasantest Composers Ever to Have Lived. His enormous commercial success and widespread appeal has more to do with his complete lack of pretension than any surrender of integrity. This was the third time I have seen him perform live. The success of Dracula was more variable than that of the similarly presented Koyaanisqatsi (at last year's Edinburgh International Festival), but to see Glass amble onstage and applaud him starry-eyed is always a pleasing experience. I'm a fan.

This performance at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall (another in their recurring Minimal series) featured the Kronos Quartet alongside the man himself and Michael Riesman (a Philip Glass stalwart since forever), both on keyboards. They performed Glass' 1998 score, accompanying a screening of the 1931 Tod Browning film. Bela Lugosi's flickering image loomed over the auditorium and the music see-sawed ominously. The combination works well, with the drawing room elegance of the string quartet adding momentum and a little extra menace to the film. (It featured no score originally, being such an early talkie.)

To my usually more purist mind, the film benefits from this extra drive. Despite its cultural impact and abundance of iconic images, Dracula does not entirely convince as a whole. Its faults also caused the performance in Glasgow to sag occasionally. Chiefly, for much of the second part of the film, the characters stand stiffly in a parlour and talk – "I'll be waiting for you in the library," and so on. The early sound recording is thin and at times became inaudible beneath the rich Kronos sound. The score suddenly seemed too busy or unnecessary, fighting a one-sided battle against weedy dialogue and exposition.

Much stronger, both in the film and consequently in the concert hall, are the purely visual sequences – for instance Renfield's coach ride and arrival at Castle Dracula, and Dracula's bedroom attacks. The Gothic romanticism of Dracula is given the setting it craves and Browning, Lugosi and Glass all work at their best. The music brings renewed life to the film at these moments and the effect is exciting; Glass also does well not to obscure the best and most famous speech in the film, as Count Dracula makes his first appearance.

And so the success of the live performance worked in tandem with that of the film. It flourished when the emphasis was on atmosphere, and it was frustrated by staginess. The musicians certainly played solidly throughout, and when the scurrying music ran well beyond the final frame, we were given time to focus on the music alone. It was one of the highlights of the evening. The film being rather brief, I wished that there could have been more besides. But of course, I always wish to see more of the pleasant Mr Glass.

Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 – SCO

Discovery, surprise and cornicing

Gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh.

How exciting to hear Beethoven's Choral Symphony live for the first time. I was already very familiar with the piece, I reckoned. I have studied it and listened to it many times (sometimes on big headphones). I confidently informed my fellow Beethoven-goer that it would be “long and awesome”. I stand by that, but I could not really predict anything besides. The Scottish Chamber Orchestra's final Edinburgh concert of their 2011/12 season was a first for me, unleashing the Ninth in the Usher Hall and revealing much more than I had expected.

The pairing was a selection of six movements from Beethoven's The Ruins of Athens. It proved a suitable hors d’oeuvre, not least because of its famous Turkish March, foreshadowing that unexpected ‘Turkish’ interlude in the symphony’s finale. Beyond that, the bass-rich chorus and sensitive woodwind writing gave the SCO (under conductor John Storgårds) a chance to impress with its beautifully balanced sound. In particular, I was rather taken with the March and Chorus which finished the selection. It could be Haydn at first, for its Classical poise. But as the orchestral music unfurled, we were treated to the sort of gleaming, unbuttoned, Pastoral loveliness which characterizes the third movement of the Ninth.

Onwards to the Ninth itself, and I was struck by how the music can retain so many hidden corners. It remains surprising and fresh. Maybe that is natural, given there is so much of it and its range is vast. But also it is often wild and unexpected, right from the strangely unanchored opening notes. The tremulous and snaking coda to the first movement still raises hairs; the kettledrums in the Scherzo still prompt a laugh. Its huge and twisting depth resists familiarity. It is a characteristic which brought to my mind other supposedly familiar ‘greatest’ works of art. I am surprised yet by the Ninth, just as I am surprised yet by Citizen Kane, The White Album, Guernica.

Of course, live performance sheds the brightest light on these hidden corners. For instance, that third movement loveliness I have mentioned. The clarinets and horns played together, and I was transported to somewhere quite above the Usher Hall’s cornicing. Why had I not noticed that sound before? Again, the balance and proportion of the SCO brought the music into focus. The sound was crisp and clear. The only surprise which seemed to jar came with the dancing C major fortissimo near the start of the Scherzo (let’s not get into bar numbers), when the strings’ pedal seemed to drown out the whirling woodwind chorus.

The Ode to Joy finale could barely fail to miss; by this point, sheer elation carried us along. More surprises here, with startling shifts and turns – much of the movement borders on the eccentric. I had tremendous fun. The SCO Chorus and the soloists were spirited, particularly the commanding young bass Jan Martiník. The orchestra's energy never seemed to let up, and the frenzied last few bars were ecstatically received. Ears ringing with joy, I left beaming. I had discovered so much in this piece I knew so well.

Minimal Extreme

Going through to Glasgow for Einstein and dazzling Flux

For the past couple of years, Glasgow's Concert Halls have been hosting weekend-long festivals celebrating Minimalism in music, from visionary 1960s beginnings to current manifestations. Among the attractive features of these weekends are the inexpensive hour-long concerts in the afternoon. These are imaginatively programmed and feature top performing artists, and I decided to make the trip across for two of the latest. This time the festival came with a qualifier: Minimal Extreme. I had a preparatory pint.

David Lang: genial

The first concert was devoted to an interesting composer with whom I was unfamiliar, David Lang (in attendance and providing a short and genial introduction). It began with two pieces in differing moods. Ark Luggage, for soprano and string quartet, received its premiere. It lists ninety-two things Noah may have brought on the Ark, as proposed by Peter Greenaway. The Smith Quartet and Else Torp were crystalline in the gently oscillating piece, which came across as a curious but pleasing vignette. Then came Pierced, a pounding concerto for piano, cello (amplified here) and percussion, with the tremulous Smith Quartet alongside. It is an ominous and thrilling piece.

The main course was The Little Match Girl Passion, Lang's Pulitzer Prize-winning choral work based on a mixture of Hans Christian Andersen's story and Bach's St Matthew Passion. Performed beautifully by four singers from Theatre of Voices, with sparse percussion, it is static and haunting. I only felt restless when the concert overran by nearly half an hour, after a late start and a fair amount of stagehand fuss throughout. I sadly forwent my inter-concert gin.

On to the second concert, another predominantly vocal offering but a rather different affair. Titled “Glass/Flux”, we reached back into Minimalism's earliest years. The five Kneeplays from Philip Glass' seminal opera Einstein on the Beach were interspersed with pieces by the composers from the Fluxus group. In the 1960s, this varied collective of artists and musicians developed forms of conceptual art and 'event' performance, extending the work of John Cage.

The rarely heard selections here were dazzling, masterfully performed by Ars Nova under the direction of Paul Hillier. The pieces favour simplicity and blur distinctions between art forms. La Monte Young's Composition 1960 #7 was in progress as we entered the hall, the singers quietly humming a perfect fifth, marked in the score “to be held for a long time”. This established a mood of hushed continuum; we moved from piece to piece largely without applause.

The Fluxus offerings were playful, Dadaistic and often fiendishly difficult. In Dick Higgins' Hank and Mary, four singers recited “Hank shot Mary dead”, each repeating every word a different number of times. It created a scattered and hilarious cascade, a kind of exploded cantus firmus. Meanwhile, Paul Hillier's solo performance of Genesis by Emmett Williams played a clever trick with broken word sounds, intoned whilst he extinguished a dozen candles in turn. Both pieces could not help but break the audience's stillness: there was spontaneous applause at their close.

The Kneeplays are choral tours de force. Glass involves the singers in complex counting patterns with added violin and fragments of poetry. Ars Nova, Hillier and violinist Jonathan Morton were again impressive and a joy to watch. How I wish I could see the revived Einstein on the Beach on its current world tour. The inspired presentation here, mingled with Fluxus, was exciting and something I would love to have shared – another success for the Glasgow's Minimal series. Philip Glass will be at the next instalment in person, and my ticket is already booked.

Freedom of Speech – Speech Debelle

A successful return with a hidden edge

Following Speech Therapy was not going to be easy for Speech Debelle. That album won the Mercury Prize in 2009, but its disappointing sales led to a spat with her record label. They now seem to have made amends, and Speech's second album has arrived. She sounds confident and her music has moved forward, often offering a tougher response to the intimate jazz–hip hop of before.

Having so much fun, she's a new age thespian

The singles Studio Backpack Rap and I’m with It are marvellous; both are catchy and immediate dancing tunes. The cracking drums and synths of Studio Backpack Rap provide a driving background to Speech’s excited delivery (including a hilarious lesbian/thespian rhyme). It opens the album with a blast and is the highlight of the whole record. The four-on-the-floor beat which breaks out in the final minute is an irresistible invitation to dance, a genius coda to my new favourite song.

Meanwhile, I’m with It has an upbeat disco-soul vibe. It claps and sings, bringing a welcome breath of fresh air to an often downbeat album. But while nothing else can match it for exuberance, there is plenty to embrace among the more subdued songs. In particular, Blaze Up a Fire fascinates, with its relaxed groove and changes of gear.

It features Roots Manuva and Realism, and its call-to-arms lyrics turned out to be so prescient of the riots in England last August that Debelle released the song on the internet as the news broke. She had on her hands a perfect encapsulation of that specific time, noting in her explanation of the free release, “These young people are not aliens dropped down from outer space on Friday night.”

Following this, the sweeping strings and spacious production of Elephant in the Living Room lend a nocturnal trip hop feel to its break-up story, and X Marks the Spot is spiked with electric guitar fuzz and a dub-like beat. After the power of Studio Backpack Rap, this sound is what characterizes the first half of Freedom of Speech; the mood is low-key, but there is a hidden edge, in both music and words.

The edge is dulled by Angels Wings. Its acoustic sound is reminiscent of Debelle's debut, but lacks the skittering jazz tint which lifted that album. Here, the sound is soft but doesn't move with the emotional weight the personal words deserve. More than anything, at the climax we are admiring the drumming (which is great throughout the whole album). Coming as it does after a run of slow-burning tracks, the momentum is lost.

I'm with It notwithstanding, the second half of the album is then less engaging than the first. Despite Collapse's menacing, piano-heavy backing, Speech's rhymes come off as naive, as she takes on environmental catastrophe and the evils of oil. There are some amusing barbs (“You'd better call some Ray Mears quick, son”), but what prevails is anger without heft. The sound of Eagle Eye directly continues that of Collapse, this time sticking it to the Man. It's good, but by this time things are starting to get wearing.

But at the end, the blissed-out Sun Dog lets in a ray of light. It shuffles along, with Rhodes piano and cello rising from the mist. The quick-fire verses also give Speech a liberating chance to show off her vocal skill. The cathartic and crashing ending feels unnecessary, but it's one of the most beautiful tracks on the album, leaving us with a high.

Speech Debelle has made some great music here. Hers is a promising, maturing talent, and Freedom of Speech is an exciting album. I shall be listening closely to whatever comes next.

7.5

Top 109 Motown songs

Happy birthday, Motown! Fifty-three years ago today, the first single was released on Tamla Records. It was Come to Me by Marv Johnson, a pleasing slice of doo-wop with surprise flute. I love Motown and happily devour it to excess. There is so much of it, after all – so many genius takes on the famous Sound of Young America beat.

Below are my 109 favourite Motown songs, starting with the very best. It is a list I put together over two years ago, following a request from a faraway friend. Perhaps the request didn't specify quite so many tracks, arranged in order; obsession just works that way. Of course two years later, I'm sure I could minutely rearrange it (and again tomorrow), but I shall hold myself back.

A lot of the choices seem obvious (they are classics after all), but hopefully there are enough surprises to lend a personal touch. There is a noticeable lean towards the Four Tops and Stevie Wonder. I don't care, because the list is mine. What is important is that all of these songs fill me with joy. They make me dance and cry. Motown was a hit machine at the poppier end of the soul spectrum, often lacking the grit of Southern soul. But to me, that does not make the music any less valid or powerful. The voices sing, the music snaps, and my feet dance...

1. Reach Out I'll Be There – Four Tops (1966)

2. The Tracks of My Tears – The Miracles (1965)

3. What Becomes of the Brokenhearted – Jimmy Ruffin (1966)

4. Superstition – Stevie Wonder (1972)

5. Every Little Bit Hurts – Brenda Holloway (1964)

6. Dancing in the Street – Martha & The Vandellas (1964)

7. I Want You Back – The Jackson 5 (1969)

8. Where Did Our Love Go – The Supremes (1964)

9. This Old Heart of Mine – The Isley Brothers (1966)

10. I Heard It Through the Grapevine – Marvin Gaye (1968)

11. Get Ready – The Temptations (1966)

12. Go Ahead and Laugh – Kim Weston (1964)

13. I Wish It Would Rain – Gladys Knight & The Pips (1968)

14. Stop! In the Name of Love – The Supremes (1965)

15. Ain't No Mountain High Enough – Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell (1967)

16. Money (That's What I Want) – Barrett Strong (1959)

17. Didn't You Know (You'd Have to Cry Sometime) – Gladys Knight & The Pips (1969)

18. What's Going On – Marvin Gaye (1971)

19. I'm Gonna Make You Love Me – Diana Ross & The Supremes and The Temptations (1968)

20. Higher Ground – Stevie Wonder (1973)

21. Just a Little Misunderstanding – The Contours (1966)

22. I Was Made to Love Her – Stevie Wonder (1967)

23. I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch) – Four Tops (1965)

24. Baby Love – The Supremes (1964)

25. Sir Duke – Stevie Wonder (1976)

26. Please Mr. Postman – The Marvelettes (1961)

27. Baby I Need Your Living – Four Tops (1964)

28. Living for the City – Stevie Wonder (1973)

29. Stoned Love – The Supremes (1970)

30. Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology) – Marvin Gaye (1971)

31. Uptight (Everything's Alright) – Stevie Wonder (1965)

32. Shotgun – Jr. Walker & The All Stars (1965)

33. A Simple Game – Four Tops (1972)

34. Love Child – Diana Ross & The Supremes (1968)

35. My Girl – The Temptations (1964)

36. I Want to Go Back There Again – Chris Clark (1967)

37. Standing in the Shadows of Love – Four Tops (1966)

38. You Can't Hurry Love – The Supremes (1966)

39. My Cherie Amour – Stevie Wonder (1969)

40. Love Hangover – Diana Ross (1976)

41. Ooo Baby Baby – The Miracles (1965)

42. Do I Love You (Indeed I Do) – Frank Wilson (1965)

43. You're All I Need to Get By – Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell (1968)

44. Twenty-Five Miles – Edwin Starr (1969)

45. (Come 'Round Here) I'm the One You Need – The Miracles (1966)

46. Bernadette – Four Tops (1967)

47. As – Stevie Wonder (1976)

48. Super Freak – Rick James (1981)

49. For Once In My Life – Stevie Wonder (1968)

50. You Keep Me Hangin' On – The Supremes (1966)

51. Papa Was a Rollin' Stone – The Temptations (1972)

52. Come and Get These Memories – Martha & The Vandellas (1963)

53. (I'm a) Road Runner – Jr. Walker & The All Stars (1966)

54. Nowhere to Run – Martha & The Vandellas (1965)

55. I'm in a Different World – Four Tops (1968)

56. You've Made Me So Very Happy – Brenda Holloway (1967)

57. Do You Love Me – The Contours (1962)

58. The Hunter Gets Captured by the Game – The Marvelettes (1966)

59. Without the One You Love (Life's Not Worthwhile) – Four Tops (1964)

60. Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler) – Marvin Gaye (1971)

61. It's the Same Old Song – Four Tops (1965)

62. Got to Be There – Michael Jackson (1971)

63. Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing – Stevie Wonder (1973)

64. Actions Speak Louder Than Words – Mable John (1961)

65. Helpless – Kim Weston (1966)

66. Loving You Is Sweeter Than Ever – Four Tops (1966)

67. I'll Pick a Rose for My Rose – Marv Johnson (1967)

68. My Guy – Mary Wells (1964)

69. Behind a Painted Smile – The Isley Brothers (1968)

70. I Got a Feeling – Four Tops (1967)

71. I'll Be There – The Jackson 5 (1970)

72. Number One in Your Heart – The Monitors (1966)

73. Leaving Here – Eddie Holland (1963)

74. Still Water (Love) – Four Tops (1970)

75. Live Wire – Martha & The Vandellas (1964)

76. I Heard It Through the Grapevine – Gladys Knight & The Pips (1968)

77. Love Having You Around – Stevie Wonder (1972)

78. Can I Get a Witness – Marvin Gaye (1963)

79. Going to a Go-Go – The Miracles (1965)
80. Heaven Must Have Sent You – The Elgins (1966)

81. Too High – Stevie Wonder (1973)

82. No Matter What Sign You Are – Diana Ross & The Supremes (1969)

83. Who's Lovin' You – The Jackson 5 (1969)

84. My Baby Loves Me – Martha & The Vandellas (1966)

85. All Your Love – Brenda Holloway (unknown: unreleased until 2002)

86. The Tears of a Clown – Smokey Robinson & The Miracles (1967)

87. Something About You – Four Tops (1965)

88. Take Me in Your Arms and Love Me – Gladys Knight & The Pips (1967)

89. I Wish – Stevie Wonder (1976)

90. Heat Wave – Martha & The Vandellas (1963)
91. It Takes Two – Marvin Gaye & Kim Weston (1966)

92. Brick House – The Commodores (1977)
93. Shake Me, Wake Me (When It's Over) – Four Tops (1966)

94. Whisper You Love Me Boy – The Supremes (1965)

95. Cloud Nine – The Temptations (1968)

96. Your Precious Love – Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell (1967)

97. I Can't Give Back the Love I Feel for You – Rita Wright (1968)

98. Who's the Fool – Singin' Sammy Ward (1960)

99. ABC – The Jackson 5 (1970)

100. Chained – Paul Petersen (1966)

101. Keep on Running – Stevie Wonder (1972)
102. Ain't That Peculiar – Marvin Gaye (1965)
103. Don't Leave Me This Way – Thelma Houston (1976)
104. Just My Soul Responding – Smokey Robinson (1973)

105. My Whole World Ended (The Moment You Left Me) – David Ruffin (1969)

106. One Day in Your Life – Michael Jackson (1975)

107. Ain't Too Proud to Beg – The Temptations (1966)

108. Shop Around – The Miracles (1960)

109. When I'm Gone – Mary Wells (1964)

Lau

Discovering dazzling folk music

Something of a folkie-newbie, I was not previously familiar with Lau. A trio of accordion, guitar and fiddle, they play music blistering and fresh. I saw them last night at the beautiful Queen’s Hall, supported by MacMaster/Hay, whose combination of electric harp and percussion delivered some interesting sounds.

With Lau onstage, the atmosphere was inviting. There is little precious or staid about this folk group. Amid the music, banter and asides on whisky and East Anglia engaged the crowd, with nods to concerts and collaborations past and future. The band is generous with wit and chemistry, with accordionist Martin Green the willing and splendidly outfitted target of jibes from Aidan O’Rourke (fiddle) and Kris Drever (guitar and vocals).

Splendidly outfitted folk (photo credit: The Queen's Hall)

Their playing dazzles. The musicianship is of a type I find simply mind-boggling: intuitive, telepathic, ferociously skilled. Rooting the music solidly, hallmarks of folk are present and correct. There are strong unison melodies, knotty battles between complex and simple times (between the note-torrent and the bang-bang-bang), and devious changes and tacets.

All of this is tackled effortlessly by the band, frequently at breakneck speed. But the music is never showy; it is organic and has space to breathe. There are gorgeous moments, notably the soaring new island-inspired track Torsa and vocal pieces Evergreen and Ghosts. When it comes, the rush of complexity grows naturally from simple motifs. At one magical point, all three play a rocking, quiet arpeggiated figure together; then, from its elegance springs a virtuosic whirl.

The end of the night brought a glowing display of Lau’s skill. A fine rendition of Lal Waterson’s Midnight Feast faded to quietness, with a chance for each member of the band to shine in turn. Before long, the intensity built up once more and we were carried into a rollicking finale, the band yet again embracing inspired, unexpected turns in the music with power and joy. The crowd were rapturous and I left excited by discovery.

The Kick Inside

The Kate Bush fanatic who doesn’t own Wuthering Heights keeps it quiet. In anticipation of 50 Words for Snow, I recently rectified the problem and bought her debut album, The Kick Inside (along with The Red Shoes, reviewed here).

The Kick Inside (1978)

Now I have Wuthering Heights. This is a song which could barely be more familiar, after so much exposure and dancing along (we’ve all done it). What strikes me now is that it still sounds so strange. Even in the context of this album, that weird voice seems to come from a totally different place. Coupled with an undeniably wonderful and inspired lyric, the song continues to entrance and leap. Mainstream the rock arrangement may be, with a banal guitar solo tacked on the end, but without this grounding it perhaps would never have been a number one smash. It couldn’t help but knock everyone sideways on Top of the Pops.

Let me in

That rock presentation characterizes the album and is handled perfectly well, with piano leading alongside occasional strings, synthesizers and so on. This is the mid-70s, with Elton John and Roxy Music each coming to mind at times. But even the most straightforward tracks have their quirks and one should never be complacent about Kate’s singing. Listen to her playful backing vocals in the otherwise unsurprising James and the Cold Gun, or imagine how much power would be lost if L’Amour Looks Something Like You were stripped of her voice.

And sometimes there is liberation from the safety of four-square guitar-and-drums nestled in the mix. Featuring primarily Kate and her piano, these are the quieter and more exposed songs, such as Feel It and The Kick Inside. These tracks show better what later albums would hold. We are drawn more to the songwriting and remember with awe that Kate Bush was nineteen years old when this was released. In fact, the most famous of these calmer tracks, The Man with the Child in His Eyes, was recorded when she was only sixteen. It is a fascinating song, and the only one I previously knew besides Wuthering Heights.

Most of the rest of the album was completely new to me. The Saxophone Song and Strange Phenomena are exciting; Them Heavy People and Oh to Be in Love are fun. My favourite discovery is Moving, the opening song. Swooning and wheeling, Kate woos with a sensual lyric. The arrangement works well too, built around sparkling piano. Moving gives us the best of Kate Bush’s early work, before she grabbed hold of the production reins and went batshit with a Fairlight. Also, this is great:

There was much to come, but The Kick Inside still endures as a remarkable debut. The teenaged Kate had talent ready to explode.

8

50 Words for Snow

An intimate winter gift

This is Kate Bush’s first album of new songs since Aerial came out in 2005. That album is one I cherish and I lose myself again and again in the complex, beguiling washes of sound. Aerial is the perfect English summertime album. Subdued and whispering, 50 Words for Snow is a handsome winter counterpart.

Blown from polar fur

It is a calmer, more intimate album than we have come to expect. Of course, intimate moments abound on Kate Bush’s earlier records, but here the dominant sound is piano with fewer embellishments than usual. The layered, spacious soundscapes are absent. This is to be listened to holed up indoors away from winter storms, chilling and warming by turns. The songs are all built around the concept of snow and the music softly echoes its magical fragility. We are never trapped Under Ice.

New material from Kate Bush, so rare, is always exciting as she offers so much. Her voice is captivating, the production lush and meticulous, but I relish most the elements of play and surprise. The ideas are fully formed, the characters speaking as clearly as her Cathy in Wuthering Heights, but we are never sure what will happen next. Aerial gave us blackbird song, Renaissance viols and Rolf Harris. 50 Words for Snow is not so dazzling or puckish, but subtle twists still bring smiles and no less so for their quietude.

There are the small, teasing details. In Lake Tahoe, the music pauses and Kate gasps; at the beginning of Snowed in at Wheeler Street, speech melts into song; the wonderful chorus voices in Wild Man are startling. The lyrical themes are astonishingly varied, as usual. Although conceptually linked, they range from a night of passion with a snowman to yeti persecution.

The first track, Snowflake, may be straighter, but the part of a falling snowflake is played by Kate’s thirteen-year-old son Bertie, whose performance is half-spoken, half-sung. His crystal treble voice perfectly evokes the season and, together with Kate’s warm singing and gentle piano, brings winter light to a yearning, tingling mother-and-son track. It is beautiful. Strings unobtrusively fill out the sound, adding an occasional decorative flurry.

Indeed throughout the album, the orchestration never intrudes on the intimacy. Among Angels, the final track, is oblique and touching in the same way as Aerial’s A Coral Room. Strings enter midway, but the focus is always on Kate and the piano. In Misty, the core sound is piano, bass and drums, coolly recalling a classic Blue Note rhythm section.

Misty is over thirteen minutes long. Kate Bush makes a snowman, with whom she then spends the night (“I kiss his ice cream lips”). In the morning he has gone, melted away. The music sustains the song, shifting to reflect the long narrative and featuring tremulous guitar and a noticeable huskiness in Kate’s voice. Lake Tahoe is similarly lengthy, but remains more static musically and doesn’t carry us in the same way, despite the inventive, ghostly words.

Robber's veil, creaky-creaky

The duet with Elton John, Snowed in at Wheeler Street, contains the strongest emotional breakout, telling a tale of lovers forever divided. The cathartic ending is forced perhaps, but till then it builds well on a menacing pulse and the star cameo from Kate’s own hero is interesting. Then, on the title track, Stephen Fry proposes a list of nonsense synonyms for snow, while Kate counts them off and in the chorus cheers him on (“Just 22 to go, let me hear your 50 words for snow!”). How strange and amazing. I was worried that Fry would break the spell with his familiar QI–Twinings purr, but he intones the words solemnly with just a hint of humour. Currently, my favourites are swans-a-melting, deamondi-pavlova and icyskidski.

In 50 Words for Snow, Kate Bush has produced hushed music which gleams in an icy hinterland. Like snow, it invites and unnerves, giving its gift quietly. I am enthralled by a musical vision which has yet to waver or disappoint. How lucky we are.

8.5

For more Kate Bush, read my review of The Red Shoes here... and The Kick Inside here!

The Red Shoes

The Kate Bush bonanza starts here

There are only four days to go before the release of Kate Bush's new album, 50 Words for Snow. The excitement is tangible. I completely devoured Director’s Cut earlier this year. It features reworkings of songs from The Sensual World and The Red Shoes, in generally warmer, more intimate settings. I love The Sensual World and the new versions fascinated me, but I barely knew the seven selections from The Red Shoes. A shameful secret of mine had been cruelly exposed: I did not own all her albums. No Red Shoes, and no Kick Inside. In the spirit of generating anticipation, I recently rectified this.

The Red Shoes (1993)

This album does not have a particularly strong reputation. There are fewer classic tracks than expected and the digital production is famously of its time. Maybe this is why I had been hesitant, instead choosing yet again to whip out The Dreaming and hee-haw along. In fact, much of it is great, even if things fall apart towards the end. My approach was unusual. I had only a passing knowledge of the singles (Rubberband Girl, Eat the Music), but several album tracks I seemed to know intimately after their appearance on Director’s Cut.

A rubber band hold me trousers up.

Of these, most are not too different here. And So Is Love is still beautiful and The Red Shoes still skitters about. There are sometimes extra details I enjoy, sometimes bits I miss: I pine for the mad-Kate ferocity at the end of Lily. A little disappointing is Moments of Pleasure (heresy!). I fell in love with the mellower version on Director’s Cut and I am glad I heard that version first. Here, the pace is faster and lain over the top of Kate and her piano is a showy Michael Kamen string arrangement. It is needless and too busy, distracting from the beautiful words.

I am now crazy over Rubberband Girl. A dotty lyric is matched with classic Kate Bush production (in a 1990s guise). Layers are built, with chorused voices and crooked synths. Vocals are sped up and Kate makes noises as if indeed she were a rubber band (“Here I go...!”). Whilst it doesn’t hit the emotional highs of some of her exquisite earlier singles, it is still great fun. The sound is light and brittle, but it makes me dance. Eat the Music is less engaging, seeming more cluttered and less immediate, although the lyrics are rather glorious. I wonder what fruit they might have borne if used differently, in one of her sultry, passionate pieces (think of Running Up That Hill or The Sensual World).

The weakness of The Red Shoes lies in the final few tracks. Big Stripey Lie is a pleasing racket, but Constellation of the Heart misfires (despite Bush’s usually dependable shouting crowd). Why Should I Love You? is a collaboration with Prince (Prince!). The result sounds like a throwaway pure-pop track from his early NPG era, and I regret the missed opportunity. If only they had come together five, ten years earlier. Finally, You’re the One does a little better and features the Trio Bulgarka, who had previously illuminated The Sensual World. They are criminally underused on this album.

Overall, The Red Shoes is a pleasant surprise. It contains some vintage Kate Bush and reaches joyous peaks. My love for her is long-standing and remains undimmed. Four days to go...

7.5

PS My review of The Kick Inside will follow very soon. Ta x

Wild Beasts

Hooting and howling

"Good Northern voice," my Northern companion noted, as Hayden Thorpe explained how the romanticism of Edinburgh blew his mind. Voices are key to the Wild Beasts sound. The two frontmen are wondrous singers; Thorpe's falsetto and Tom Fleming's baritone are perfectly matched and bring each song to life. At the Liquid Room last night, they were both on fine form.


Mind-blowing romanticism

Clean, echoing guitar sounds and snapping drums add a from-across-the-chasm atmosphere. It has real impact live and there is no need for deviation or trickery here. The performances are straight, faithful to the recorded originals, and almost always spot on. This Is Our Lot, His Grinning Skull and Reach a Bit Further were all centrepieces and captured the band at their best: hitting an irresistible groove and then taking flight with vocals laced with surprise.

Earlier, Bed of Nails and We Still Got the Taste Dancin' on Our Tongues made a sizeable one-two opening punch. The latter, referencing The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, is a personal favourite and was taken at a spirited gallop. The euphoric mood increased with The Devil's Crayon, as the room was filled with dancing energy. This was a little punctured by The Fun Powder Plot, which was taken at a slower pace than expected and came across a little sluggish. No matter, as the best was to come.

"We fookin' love you guys!" yelled a correct man. He was rewarded, alongside the rest of us, with a chiming Hooting & Howling. As an encore, Lion's Share and an excitable All the King's Men got the crowd singing along. Both Thorpe and Fleming were enjoying themselves, immersed. One only feels they need shirts which are rather less shit, especially next to supercool guitarist Ben Little. End Come Too Soon calmed us down. A wash of sound slowly consumed the song and the band hid from view, re-emerging for the finale. Wonderful stuff.

Lykke Li

Drums and mist in Glasgow, from Sweden

Lykke Li performed at the O₂ ABC at the weekend. I went along, eager to see the Swedish chanteuse move her hips. I have lately much enjoyed her second album, Wounded Rhymes, which is clattering and tender.

The show was originally scheduled for April, but she injured her back in Marks and Spencer beforehand (dropping raspberries everywhere) and it was postponed. So anticipation was high and I had a great evening. Her set was disappointingly short, lasting just over an hour, but the music was at times tremendous.

Lykke Li proves her back is now fine.

Support beforehand was provided by First Aid Kit, two Swedish sisters backed by a long-haired dude with a cool jumper and a beard. Their powerful (loud) singing drives folky, campfire music that is reasonably good but in all rather too earnest. The cumulative impression I had was that their matching dresses were probably homemade.

When Lykke Li arrived, the onstage presence changed completely. Wearing black and continuously shrouded by dry ice, Lykke and her band were predominantly backlit by stark white lights. They were Nordic spectres, emerging from the mist to thundering music at the start; Lykke snaked her way to the front, smashing a cymbal with her hand along the way. As she sang opener Love Out of Lust, her fragile voice floated amid the band’s large, throbbing sound. It was bewitching.

The sound was big indeed, frequently percussive and pounding. Two drummers gave terrific force to the climactic moments, which were many (I'm Good, I'm Gone came second, but would have made a cracking finale), and their beats dominated the evening’s music. Lykke herself often got in on the action with her own sticks. She moves well too, swaying in a gossamer dress and punching her arms outwards. I Follow Rivers got us dancing with her, and it was fun.

My phone's approximation of the stage that night.

The mood was calmed by the stripped-down I Know Places. Her voice is not particularly strong, but with the band’s muscle returning for power ballad Sadness Is a Blessing (one of my favourites from the album), she gave a soulful performance. The delivery was straight, and it was a great moment.

However, after this slower section of the show, the momentum did not pick up again as it should have with the next song, Little Bit. Lykke encouraged us to sing along, but she was vague, dropping out unexpectedly of what is already a light track. She began to get impatient with us and looked uncomfortable. I worried.

Fears were banished by the final few songs. The stage was bathed in red light, the crowd got louder, and Lykke put on a cape. Rave-like beats took us into a rocking Rich Kids Blues. Then, Youth Knows No Pain provided the highlight of the night. The drums were back and it was loud and exciting. And it came with a miraculous twist: suddenly, the backing switched to Kanye West’s Power. Its repeated chant demanded participation, whilst Lykke continued to sing Youth Knows No Pain above. It was clever, unexpected and worked incredibly well.

With final song Get Some, Lykke’s dancing hit a peak. She may have earlier worried about the crowd, but we were sent out into the street elated, still hearing the drums and seeing her sway.