Nelly Furtado - Folklore

Dreamworks: 2003

You namedrop one Canadian pop singer, and the CanCon Commission comes knocking at your door. “How come you're reviewing a Japanese pop starlet, but not one of our own?” they ask. Look, chaps, I think I've been quite fair in my mandatory Canadian content. Why, I've even given two hip-hop acts that aren't Drake some shine here. Besides, R&B and pop really isn't my area of expertise, so...

“Nope, you're reviewing at least Nelly Furtado's first three albums, and if not, we're sending you to the Ellef Ringnes Island gulag.”

(Disclaimer: re-enactment – may or may not have really happened!)

Nelly Furtado was undoubtedly one of my country's biggest stars at the turn of the century. Not only popular enough to go multi-platinum on her debut, but managed to re-invent herself into a damn phenomenon, truly becoming a global star. By alphabetical decree, however, I'm starting with the record between those two flashpoints, the so-called sophomore slump of Folklore. Aww, c'mon, guys, it ain't that bad, really.

Following her breakout, however, she was something of an in-demand vocalist. Paul Oakenfold tapped her. Swollen Members tapped her (at the height of their popularity, no less). For most though, it was appearing on the remix of Missy Elliot's Get Ur Freak On that showed and proved she wasn't some one-hit wonder. That Nelly could hang with the pop world elite. Logic dictated that she should pursue that particular audience, maybe even work with Timbaland in an official capacity. Instead, she stuck with her original production crew (alt-rockers Philosopher Kings alum Brian West and Gerald Eaton) for an album that's, well, diverse, if nothing else.

There's no denying the album sounds big and bold, unafraid to toss whatever influence strikes Nelly's interest into the pot. Opener One-Trick Pony has a bit of folksy twang, follow-up Powerless throws in more Mediterranean influences (gotta' show those Portuguese roots), Explode aims for something more clubby with brisk rhythms and heavier low-ends, and Try... ah, there's the radio-friendly adult contemporary song I've heard for the last two decades.

All well and good, but I get why regular folks may not have connected with all the genre dalliances, especially when few offer quite the earworms Ms. Furtado had sang before. C'mon though, how can you not get a silly grin on your face hearing her crack up on the blues singalong Saturdays with Jarvis Church?

Sykonee's 'Sportsing' Surveys: DELERIUM / CONJURE ONE

Ah, Delerium. Some love 'em. Some hate 'em. Some loved 'em before they hated 'em. Some didn't know they existed for a decade before coming to love 'em. A great many more are probably indifferent but know at least one or two of their songs - typically in a remixed fashion. Wherever you stand on their worth, it's undeniable the group - primarily helmed by Bill Leeb, with Rhys Fulber as his frequent fellow muse, and a whole gaggle of lady vocalists in later years, have done much in the worlds of musical scenes most would deem incompatible. Are they really so?

Yes, if you were to take their very earliest industrial and dark ambient records against their most recent ethereal dance-pop outings, you'd wonder how that link ever formed. Or at least I wondered. And with wonder comes an interest in exploring an entire discography. Buckle-up, me buckos, this one's a three decades spanning dive!





























That sure was a dive that felt longer than I anticipated - probably didn't help I took on an additional discography in the process. That'd be like if I'd done all the solo albums of the original Genesis band members along with that band's primary output! Felt like I'd have done Rhys dirty if I didn't include his stuff with Leeb's though: the two remain so synced with each other after all these years, and the two projects were relatively similar overall. Ooh, does this mean I'll be tackling all the other Leeb/Rhys projects out there? Front Line Assembly does have quite the extensive discography too, not to mention other, smaller outings like Synesthasia.

Hhmm, no, I need to listen to something a bit different for a while. How does New Order sound to y'all?

Neil Young - Chrome Dreams II

Reprise Records: 2007

I do wonder, if this may be my last Neil Young review. Like, I'll get Archives Vol. 3 whenever that comes out (surely before the heat death of the universe), but far as mainline albums go, I've gotten just about all I've ever cared to get (and then some). What's even left? His wayward '80s material? More Crazy Horse jams from the '90s? That ultra middle-of-the-road music from the turn of the century? The almost insufferably preachy albums with Promise Of The Real? Maybe at some point, I'll take a nibble - Mirror Ball's gotta' be in some used shops - but I'm in no need either. If Chrome Dreams II truly is the last time I write about a mainline album from ol' Shakey, it's a suitable bowing.

For those just tuning into this electronic music blog's inexplicable, excessive coverage of Neil Young, Chrome Dreams was a '70s album that may have gone down as an all-time classic of rock and folk music. In typical Neil fashion though, it was scuttled for something more slapdash, persistent musings of 'what if?' lingering over his catalogue ever since. When the Young team started putting together the first Archives collection, I'm sure some quips came about maybe releasing that album as once intended.

Then Neil would chuckle to himself, saying, “How about I release a sequel instead, with songs I still haven't released from back in the day?” His team would look at him, concern crossing their face, fearing what mischievous ideas Neil was cooking: “Um, how far 'back in the day', exactly?” Mr. Young's eyes sparkled. “Remember that stuff I did with the Blue Notes...?”

And so, not only did Neil unearth the live-only Ordinary People from his big-band blues period, but recorded an eighteen-minute long session of it! The song ended up being his longest track committed to disc to that point (Arc doesn't count), and wouldn't be exceeded until the uber-jams of Psychedelic Pill. I think it's cool – hearing his wild guitar distortion with a triumphant brass section is quite invigorating – but I know I'm kinda' in a minority in actually liking the Blue Notes stuff. Yes, even among Rusties.

That's the only song like that on Chrome Dreams II though, and oddly placed at track three, leaving one exhausted for the rest of the album. The ramp-up was nice, a couple country folkies including Beautiful Bluebird. A couple more country folkies follow Ordinary People, then we're into some Crazy Horse styled rawk, even if it's only Ralph Molina on hand. Dirty Old Man sounds like a dumber, drunker version of Piece Of Crap, and at over fourteen minutes in length, No Hidden Path drags some – maybe needed the proper-Horse for that one.

Some more gentle tunes round out the rest, and you have yet another Vintage Neil Young mish-mash of clashing styles album, not seen since Freedom. If only Chrome Dreams II had its own Rockin' In The Free World, it'd be a classic.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 2: Disc 7 - Homegrown (1974-1975)

Reprise Records: 2020

This album was pencilled in for a release after On The Beach. Pre-hype from those who'd heard it thought it would be just the record to resuscitate Neil's career back to his Harvest glory. Bold claims, and maybe words that should have been left unspoken in Mr. Young's presence, as at the eleventh hour, he pulled it from publication, going with the two-year old Tonight's The Night instead.

The long-held reasoning behind this is due to the fact both were played back-to-back off the same reel of tape. Comparing the two, Neil felt Tonight's The Night was the stronger collection of songs, and perhaps he's right in that regard. As time's passed, however, with more music from this era of his career emerging, a clearer picture's formed. As the previous disc in this Archives collection can attest, Neil's relationship woes were at an all-time low, songs almost exclusively being written about his feelings over Carrie Snodgress' absence. Some of these were strong enough to consider studio time with, with a backing band, proper LP roll-out, and everything.

Swell beans, but gosh, these are still quite personal and emotionally raw, aren't they? Like, at least the songs in Tonight's The Night also dealt with broader topics of living life on the skids, not just about the tragic deaths of friends. Maybe best to shelve Homegrown for a little while longer, let it sit while those emotional wounds heal some. See if you're feeling the same after, and if it's really such a good idea to let the world get this close to one's broken heart. And wait... and wait... and, oh, hi, fine lady, your name's Pegi, you say? Life moves on.

Still, it's undeniable that Homegrown would have made for a fascinating companion piece to Harvest, had it been released back when. Heck, it still could serve as such, should you choose to listen to them back to back. With songs like Out On The Weekend, Harvest, Heart Of Gold, and A Man Needs A Maid, you can glean a sense of growing puppy-love from Neil, a whirlwind relationship on the rise. Homegrown, meanwhile, is the inevitable break-up, bitter and despondent. I didn't say it was a happy companion piece.

Musically, we're in familiar territory as Harvest, with slide-guitarist Ben Keith and bassist Tim Drummond from The Stray Gators on hand. There's a couple more rocky country jams on here (Vacancy), some talking about weed (We Don't Smoke It No More, the titular cut ...yeah man, feckin' 'home-grown' *anxious pat of the head*). Elsewhere, White Line, a song that remained unpublished until 1990's Ragged Glory, is given the gentle acoustic go here, while Star Of Bethlehem with Emmylou Harris would appear much sooner on American Stars 'n Bars. And smack in the middle is Florida, an... abstract spoken-word bit? Huh, just when you thought you'd heard Neil Young do every style of music under the sun (and beyond!), he throws in something leftfield like this. What's next, Yacht Rock?

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 2: Disc 6 - The Old Homestead (1974)

Reprise Records: 2020

Despite the rather jovial start to the Tonight's The Night tour, it didn't take long for things to go just as sour as the Harvest tour. Unsurprisingly, poor ol' Shakey grew even more despondent, retreating back to the studio with some pals, took a bunch of supplements called 'honey slides' (surely up on Erowid, if you're curious), and came out with On The Beach, an album that goes about as deep into the 'ditch' as you'll ever hear. Yeah, it has some peppy tunes like the Crazy Horse regular Walk On and the 'rawker' Revolution Blues. Gads though, Motion Pictures, On The Beach, Ambulance Blues... does that poor violin ever sound like a sad, howling hound dog.

I've already covered most of this in my review of On The Beach though, so let's skip that particular disc in Archives, Vol. 2, and move onto disc number six, The Old Homestead (1974). Seems things just kept getting worse for Mr. Young, his relationship with Carrie Snodgress crumbling as well. Makes sense that he'd start writing a pile of songs dealing with his feelings on the matter, using his own studio to record acoustic versions of them. Never mind if he ever intended to release them to a wider audience, there was at least some cathartic release in performing them to an audience of a few behind a mixing board.

A handful of these songs did emerge down the line. Blues-rocker The Old Homestead cropped up on the relatively forgotten Hawks & Doves. The laid-back country vibe of Deep Forbidden Lake earned a spot on the Decade retrospective. Moody acoustic number Bad News Comes To Town got a big-band blues cover during Neil's This Note's For You period. Still, most sat in his archives, untouched, unloved, mostly hidden from the world. It's quite possible these songs cut just a bit too deep into the emotional wounds he was feeling at the time, old scars he really didn't want revisiting, much less making known to a wider audience that was already rather invasive into his erratic activities.

Which makes Neil's decision to join with Crosby, Stills & Nash again for a massive American tour all the more strange. Maybe he thought 'getting back with the boys' was what he needed to knock him out of his funk, but while he was gung-ho about it during rehearsals, he turned right back into 'The Loner' while they went out on the road. Which may have been just as well, since by all accounts, 'the Doom Tour' (as Crosby put it) was a debauchery mess, if not financially successful – performing in stadiums would do that. A couple recordings from that tour appear on this disc, but it's clear Neil doesn't want it to be a focus of this collection.

By the end of The Old Homestead, the vibe does seem to be turning around a little, some regained confidence and peppier mood permeating the final clutch of songs. Neil wasn't quite done with the tunes of relationship woes, however, piecing together what would become one of his long-lost albums...

Neil Young with The Stray Gators - Archives, Vol. 2: Disc 2 - Tuscaloosa (1973)

Reprise Records: 2019/2020

The Archives series is a continuous project, segments coming out with great frequency. In typical Neil Young fashion though, it remains an erratic one. Instead of a steady, chronological re-telling of his discography, it's made massive time-jumps with each release of the Performance Series. Confounding things further are additional items released after they should have been properly sequenced, relegating them to x.5 in their numerical order.

Example: Live At The Cellar Door, a show recorded between the Live At The Fillmore East and Live At Massey Hall sessions, is designated PS02.5. This is all very dorky, OCD-levels of going about re-issuing one's discography, but it does leave some tantalizing hints of what else might come out, especially when there's a six volume gap between Live At Massey Hall and A Treasure (the country shindiggin' tour of Old Ways).

Cagey marketing aside, there's a more practical reason why some of these archival performances come out in non-chronological order: they're harder to resuscitate than others. Or put another way, even though Tuscaloosa (1973) was always intended to be volume four of the Performance Series, getting a good remastering of those recordings was apparently a herculean effort.

This is from the Harvest tour with The Stray Gators that went down as one of the most disastrous tours from Neil's long career, one that started on a rather bleak note when their practice sessions with Crazy Horse guitarist Danny Whitten wasn't turning out, got sent home and promptly overdosed. Those arenas were already sold out though, folks eager to hear hits like Heart Of Gold live. So hit the road Neil and the Gators did, though not before financial wrangling added even more sourness to the proceedings. Throw in Mr. Young's insistence at playing new material over Harvest songs as the tour progressed, and it lurched to an unsatisfying end once the American portion was completed, a European stretch cancelled.

As fascinating as it would be to hear those shows, Tuscaloosa wisely gives us a glimpse of the tour in its earlier days, when things hadn't quite gone to such shite. Even then, there was only so much audio they could cobble, portions of it apparently going unrecorded.

So we get a couple solo acoustic numbers to open up, then it's right into the Harvest tunes with the Gators. The opening salvo of Out On The Weekend and Harvest sound great, the live energy vastly improved over the studio versions. Old Man and Heart Of Gold are as they are, but it soon settles in that, as professional as the Gators are as a backing band, that's all they are. Neil really wants to coax a little Crazy Horse out of these Nashville pros, but it just isn't happening.

The set ends off with Don't Be Denied, somewhat of a harbinger of things to come. Neil goes autobiographical, his voice gets harrowed and raw, and the music fades away, in doing so jettisoning the traditional post-song applause of a live album, the audience disappearing before us.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 2: Disc 1 - Everybody's Alone (1972-1973)

Reprise Records: 2020

Aw shit, here we go again...

Like, you knew this was inevitable. It was only a matter of time before Neil Young put out another Archives collection. It's why, despite the various, unearthed items that had recently come out from this period of his career, I let them pass by, fully expecting them to appear within this box-set. And for sure I'm gonna' review Every. Single. CD. that's included here, mwa-ha-hah! Okay, I'll probably skip on discs that are heavy on material from the albums I've already reviewed (Tonight's The Night, On The Beach, Zuma), because who needs redundant reviews like that? There's already ten discs on Archives Vol. 2 - gotta' cut corners wherever I can.

That all sorted? Good. Now, where were we? Ah yes, Mr. Young had just released Harvest, achieving a fame and fortune few could have dreamed of ten years deep into a music career, much less ol' Neil. In fact, he was so flustered with all the success that he kept trying to run away from it, which seemed to have the opposite effect. Part of a break-out rock band? Break away and do folksy solo stuff for a while. Get popular enough to join a super-group and play to crowds of thousands? Buy a ranch to get away from it all. Feel so inspired by your surroundings that you write some of your most heart-felt tunes yet, leading to chart topping albums and tours in sold-out arenas? Well, now things are just getting ridiculous. What must one do to get away from all this success? Drown yourself in a ditch?

That's jumping ahead a little though. Archives, Vol. 2 instead kicks things off in the immediate aftermath of Harvest. Titled Everybody's Alone (1972-1973), it's a sort of mish-mash of demo recordings and previously unreleased material of Neil trying out new and old songs with The Stray Gators, his backing band of Nashville session musicians (save an original recording of future tune Human Highway with Crosby, Stills, & Nash). Some of these would end up on the album Time Fades Away, including previously unreleased versions of The Bridge, L.A., and Time Fades Away (a right hootenanny of a tune!). In fact, I think the only tune that appears as on this disc that also does on that album is Yonder Stands The Sinner.

And you may wonder, why not just include the actual Time Fades Away songs, remastered, like as done on the previous Archives collection? To which I respond, “Have you actually heard the quality of those recordings?” They're not good, infamously recorded as performed live, with little in the way of proper studio tapes or mixing console used in the process. It remains one of the only Neil Young albums to never see an official CD re-issue, Neil either unable or unwilling to polish it for modern ears. It has finally found its way onto streaming services if you're insatiably curious, but you're probably better off with the versions as heard here.

Wintersun - Wintersun

Nuclear Blast: 2004

You wouldn't think the Viking metal scene was large enough to allow for splintering. Maybe occassion personnel rotations, but if a band struck it hot with success, you'd be best served sticking things out together. That's not what happened with Ensiferum though, the lead vocalist and guitarist, Jari Mäenpää, striking out on his own after just two albums with the band. Okay, that's not quite accurate.

Seems Jari had been writing his own material before joining the Finnish folk metal band, and though having success with Ensiferum, continued stockpiling songs for future side-project consideration. Why not produce them with his current band? These just weren't compatible with the type of themes Ensiferum was exploring, Jari having visions of grand, majestic, and even melancholic in mind. Less pure folkish influence, more “spacy”, as he put it. So committed to the project he was, that Mr. Mäenpää decided he'd do all the music himself. Then he realized he couldn't do the blast-beat drums he'd wanted, so got Rotten Sound drummer Kai Hahto to join in. Everything else though, from vocals, guitars, synths, and miscellaneous, he'd produce.

So sounds good, and after a while, Jari managed to compile enough songs to see his 'Wintersun' project to fruition. Only, he'd booked studio time that would conflict with an Ensiferum tour. He requested a break to meet his studio schedule, but the band apparently fired him instead. Cold, man, like a Nordic winter.

If I thought the Ensiferum stuff was at a blistering pace, it's got nothing on Wintersun. In fact, it sometimes sounds too fast, like the guitars are pitched up and the drums can't quite keep up, though Kai is doing it absolute best to try. Or are the drums too fast? Is there any need to be ultra blast-beating during the operatic bridges? Plus, the overall mixdown seems rather tinny to my ears. As I've said, I don't know enough about Nordic death-folk-speed metal to know what the scene's bassline of production standards are, but surely it's beefier than this? Mind, as it is Jari doing almost everything here, having to record each part separately across many studios, so it's remarkable this debut album came together as well as it did. And while even Jari admits Wintersun can sound a bit 'demo-ish' compared to his later efforts, it certainly wasn't lacking in songwriting ambition.

Oh yes, despite all this, Wintersun does kick a lot of ass, in an epic, over-the-top sort of way. I can't take much of it seriously, but when that chorus in Battle Against Time erupts, holy Hell, do I ever want to fist pump along with. Plus, each successive song is longer than that last, showing some thought and care in the album presentation as a proper journey. Which is a fancy way of saying it does drag by the end, but I'll allow it. Given all the struggles Jari had in seeing this album to completion, Wintersun deserves a little indulgence.

Ensiferum - Iron

Spinefarm Records/Icarus Music: 2004/2012

Not that it matters to readers of a blog supposedly dedicated to electronic music, but I should probably clarify a couple things regarding Viking metal band Ensiferum. For one, this band isn't strictly a Viking metal band. Yeah, they use Viking iconography and all, but they tend to fall more in the Folk metal branch of things.

And you may wonder, what's the difference, aren't we splitting braided hairs here? Hey, glass houses and all, fellow electronic music lovers. Especially psy-trance lovers (I'm looking at you, Goblin Psy). But okay, the fact that Ensiferum are Finnish does raise an eyebrow over the band finding inspiration in themes supposedly originated by the peoples of classic Scandinavia. Isn't that like Scots doing Celtic metal? Not that geographical neighbours aren't allowed to crib things from one another – cultural exchange and all that. It would properly make Ensiferum more Folk than Viking metal though, so if the nagging pedantic is bothering you about it, there's the necessary trivia.

After a successful debut and tour, the band struck again while the iron was hot, hence the title of this album. Heh, no, it's in reference to Ensiferum itself (know your Latin, kids). While I haven't done enough research to know exactly how stuffed the Viking/Folk metal scene had gotten by the mid-'00s, I can't imagine a complete retread of Ensiferum would do. No, this band went full-in with the Folkish traits. Instead of brief interludes where acoustic guitars or kantele would play a traditional ditty before erupting back into the blast-beats and heavy riffage, you now have full songs dedicated to it, complete with backing orchestra! Okay, synthesized orchestra, but the intent is still there. Honestly, if you found this CD sitting in some ye' olde Renaissance fair merch booth (just ignore the anachronistic nature of it), opener Ferrum Aeternum and closer Tears wouldn't seem out of place in the slightest. Heck, they even got Kaisa Saari to do vocals in the latter, and if you look at the Discogs page of her folk rock band Tarujen Saari, you'll be astounded by how un-metal they be.

But metal is what Ensiferum are, and by golly, metal is what they give. With added synthesizers. And more folkish interludes. Plus much crisper production, such that I can actually hear and understand Jari's vocals now. Well, when he doesn't go full-throated growl, though he's added the classic falsetto wail to the Ensiferum repertoire. And I can't get enough of good ol' group choruses and chants. LAI LAI HEI indeed!

Iron is also a much shorter album than Ensiferum, and not so relentless as the debut either, plenty of pause between its pummelling portions. When the band does go off though, it's as full-tilt as anything from before. And gosh, is it just me, but do some of these songs sound like Metallica's Battery? I must not be the only one, because the 2009 re-issue included a bonus cover of that very song. Inspiration not only regional, but timeless!

Neil Young - After The Goldrush

Reprise Records: 1970/1993

A little unfinished business, this. I totally skipped After The Goldrush when going through my block of 'A'-titled albums, because the record was already significantly covered when I reviewed the Neil Young Archives collection. Still, I can't very well claim to have reviewed everything in my music library if I don't also do this, even if there's little more I can add. One thing did come to mind though.

In its commitment to presenting the tracklist in chronological order, the Archives collection failed to showcase one of After The Goldrush's best strengths, how each side of the record mirrored each other. A wonderful, group acoustic love song opener, followed by a reflective commentary on society, then a lovelorn ditty, a hard rocker, and finishing off with a charming doodle. Okay, Side-B doesn't quite match up, what with an extra song there, but put I Believe In You where Birds is, and it matches, mang!

That's all I got left to say. Here's what I wrote before to eat up the rest of my self-imposed word count obligation. Enjoy!

Despite taking a step back from the limelight, Neil Young once again found himself a very important person in the world of American rock. It'd only been half-a-decade since he sought music fortune in Los Angeles, and he'd accomplished more commercially and creatively than most could have ever hoped for, even for the fruitful '60s. What else could he do beyond being part of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, one of the country's most popular bands?

“How about scoring a movie?” suggested Young's Topanga neighbour Dean Stockwell. Yes, that Dean Stockwell, who'd been interested in scripting and filming a movie called After The Goldrush. It piqued ol' Shakey's interest enough to start writing a few tunes for it, and though the film never materialized, some of the intended music turned out to be some of the highlights of Young's album of the same name (Tell Me Why, After The Goldrush, Don’t Let It Bring You Down). It also sparked his creativity ever further, vivid lyrics compared to songs past, and unafraid at stretching his limited vocal range into areas yet attempted. You can really hear him crackling the high notes in After The Goldrush for the first time, exposing a naked sincerity to his music.

The other two standouts from these sessions are Southern Man (an incendiary condemnation of, well, southern redneck ‘justice’ and treatment of African-Americans) and When You Dance, I Can Really Love, capturing Young and his Crazy Horse band in full-on swagger musically. Added to the mix is seventeen year old Nils Lofgren, a budding guitarist that’d been something of an understudy to Young. In what had to been either crazy brilliant or brilliantly crazy, Neil suggested Nils play piano for these songs, an instrument lil’ Lofgren had no prior experience with. The kid fuckin’ smashed it! That’s Mr. Young for you though, so often bringing the best out of those around him.

Emiliana Torrini - Love In The Time Of Science

Virgin: 1999

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

I don't know much about Emiliana Torrini, but I've apparently heard her a couple times without realizing it. The most prominent example I've noticed in her 'Top Spotify Tracks' list is Gollum's Song, the closing credits theme to Lord Of The Rings: The Two Towers. Now, even though I didn't get the soundtracks for those films (as lush as they are), I know I've heard that song in full, as I've watched the end credits all the way through, and the extended editions! If nothing else than for the lovely sketch artwork included during the runtime. Or simple movie viewing inertia. Gotta'... see... to... the... END!

More than that though, I know I've heard Ms. Torrini as far back as this particular album, even though I didn't know it at the time – probably thought the song a Björk tune when I heard it (not without good reason to, more on which in a bit). I am, of course, talking about Summerbre- No, just kidding, it's Wednesday's Child, which is baffling to me because, according to Lord Discogs, there's almost no way I could have heard it so prominently. The album it came from, Love In The Time Of Science, had sprung half a dozen singles, not one of which was this particular tune. Yet, the gentle organ chords, orchestral swells, the lyrics in the chorus, the “ba-ba-ba ba, ba-ba-ba baaa” bridge... I know I've heard it before, and frequently, as though it was a minor radio hit back in the day. How? Where? Why??

Emiliana Torrini had released a few albums in her native Iceland prior to Love In The Time Of Science, plus provided vocals for GusGus, but for all intents this was her debut to a wider audience. Being that she hailed from the same country as Björk, and was signed to the same label as Björk, One Little Indian, it's not surprising that this album feels like her producers were trying to mould Ms. Torrini into a similar star. Especially as Björk had grown a tad too esoteric for pop radio by decade's end. Don't worry, folks, here's another Icelandic chanteuse doing singer-songwriter trip-hop! Not sure those were shoes Emiliana was eager to wear, especially as her following body of work generally steered further way from the trip-hop as heard here. Plenty of guest features and writing credits in that wake though.

The '90s certainly drip in Love In The Name Of Science, if that's any way to describe an album of singer-songwriter trip-hop. It sometimes comes off a little over-produced for the simple, intimate nature of the lyrics, though I never feel Emiliana is overshadowed by the orchestral flourishes or wall-of-sound rhythms. The gritty, chaotic guitar squall of Telepathy wouldn't hurt with a Tricky guest verse either. And yes, Summerbreeze does provide an acoustic outing for the whole album, like a gentle closing credits sequence to all that came before. Would be good for future consideration in soundtracks, especially if Björk isn't available.

Neil Young - A Letter Home

Reprise Records: 2014

With all the agreed-upon classics and intriguing second-tier albums already in my collection, I've grown fussier over which Neil Young projects I'm interested in laying down fresh cash for. A new album needs something unique about it if I'm gonna' check it out. Like, I have plenty 'nuff of his standard folksy-rocksy music – give me something on a conceptual level, like a mini rock opera (Greendale), or a different recording session with a famed producer (Le Noise). Playing music inside an ancient recording booth, refurbished by Jack White, as though it's a transmitter to his deceased mum? That'll do.

First, the technology. Always a hound for quirky recording equipment, Mr. White found himself a 1947 Voice-O-Graph to toy around with. For some reason, the specific year was important – maybe he saw a photo of famed blues musician inside one? Whatever the case, these units were more a novelty than anything, where you could go inside and record your very own words or music to vinyl and play back at home, kinda' like those CD booths you'd find in malls throughout the '90s. Obviously, the recording quality of these booths were rather shite, folks more pleased with just having their own material on a record than any practical use of them, though some in the army found them handy ways of sending spoken letters to family back home. Also, bootlegs, especially of banned music in communist countries.

Anyhow, Jack White got himself one (a 1947 one!), and invited Neil over to his studio to check it out. Seeing the archaic contraption got ol' Shakey's muse all a'twitter, and never one to waste a moment of inspiration, got in the booth and started recording some cover tunes. I'm not sure whether he intended the 'letter to mom' idea to be as though he was sending it to heaven, or to the past. Why not both?

And I know what you're thinking: “wait, isn't Neil Young that old coot who's always complaining about sound quality, even taking his music off streaming services because it didn't match the fidelity of his failed Pono project? Why on earth would he make a record that sounds as cruddy as this?” Ah, therein lies the trick. A Letter Home isn't about making some folk covers sound as pristine as modern production can make them, but making them sound as authentic to the recording process that was used. And if that recording process contains all manner of weird warping noises, swooshing sounds, pops and crackles, then that, by g'ar, is what you're gonna' hear.

Oh, the music? Charming, I guess, with covers from Dylan, Lightfoot, Nelson, Springsteen, and a few others I'm not familiar with. This probably would have been an utterly forgotten album were it not for the Voice-O-Graph gimmick, but it does add a strange, otherworldly vibe to the whole process. You can almost imagine this is how music would sound if you could transmit it to another plane of existence.

Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Zuma

Reprise Records: 1975

Sometimes the best way to get out of a depressive funk is to abandon one group of music buddies, reconvene with another group of music buddies, and hang out on the beaches of Malibu getting all up in that mid-'70s bachelor life. Lots of booze, lots of 'rawk', probably some drugs too, though none of that super-heavy shit that had been going around, leading to too many deaths of colleagues. Or maybe a little on the psychedelic bent, Zuma marking the point where Neil Young started singing about ancient Aztec and Incan lore, the sort of stuff one can't help but be inspired by after ingesting a little psilocybin. Me, I just go and listen to every album I own in alphabetical order, but if writing music about Cortez the killer and mythical lady-birds is what does it for you, have at it, guy.

Weird inspirations aside, one of the reasons Zuma came to fruition is Young's old band Crazy Horse had found themselves a new guitarist after the passing of Danny Whitten. It'd only been a few years since then, but in Neil Young terms, that's practically a lifetime, a whole stage of his career cycled through. Insisting he come and check out the dude's chops on the axe (or however you say it), Mr. Young was impressed at how well he could perform both lead and rhythm guitar parts on such classic Crazy Horse collaborations like Cowgirl In The Sand and Down By The River.

That's because this here Frank Sampedro was a huge fan of the group, often jamming away on his own to the album Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. So much so, in fact, that ol' “Pedro” joked he'd probably played those songs more than Young and Whitten ever had. Feeling that familiar fire that made their earlier works such kinetic monuments to classic rock, The Young & The Restless Horse hit the studio with the same carefree approach as before, cranking out tunes about blue barstools, stupid girls, and other love-lorn chestnuts.

Aside from Cortez The Killer though (sounding kinda' short to my ears at seven-and-a half minutes, since I'm used to the live Weld version), Zuma doesn't have much in the way of classic Young material. Some good, solid rock music, for sure, a few tunes of which are little more than excuses for the band to just go off while bemoaning past relationships (as I said, a total bachelor fest). There's also Danger Bird, the closest thing to a companion piece to Cortez The Killer in its epic sense of scope, though it doesn't reach the seven minute mark, nor has been trotted out for live sessions as often, so it's unsurprising the song goes overlooked in the annals of Young et Cheval de Fou music.

Which is Zuma in a nutshell. The players involved were basically rediscovering their synergy with this outing, and would create greater works together after this.

Dido - Life For Rent

Arista: 2003

Dido already had a decent run of solo success by the year 2000. Even in an overstuffed '90s market of lady singer-songwriters, she managed a couple minor hits, not to mention an association with her big brother's super-mega popular club band Faithless didn't hurt her prospects either. Then her career went meteoric when Eminem sampled the charming ditty Thank You for an all-time classic cut in Stan. Not only did it break Dido to an entirely untapped young American demographic, but their moms too, who couldn't stand that potty-mouthed rapper but constantly inquired their sons about that one track with the catchy chorus. No joke, I had middle-aged women coming in my music shop buying The Marshall Mathers LP just for that Dido chorus alone. Fortunately for them, we soon 'found' a whole album of Dido music for them to enjoy, without all those gay-bashing, pop-celebrity slamming, girlfriend-murdering antics.

So No Angel went on to be a platinum-selling album in many countries, which naturally left expectations for her follow-up album sky-high. She smashed it, Life For Rent hitting the number one spot in several countries, lead single White Flag her best selling song by a mile (well, technically Stan is, but y'know). Honestly though, I think Ms. Florian Cloud de Bounevialle O'Malley Armstrong lucked out a little, filling in the lady singer-songwriter gap that had emerged after many Lilith Fair alum had significantly retreated from the spotlight by 2003. There was still a market for light, folksy brunch-pop, just not as large as before. Might as well indulge in that UK lass who did the Thank You song – that White Flag is catchy enough, so the rest of Life For Rent should be just as good.

While I've enjoyed her contributions to Faithless tunes and whatever other projects her bro' Rollo's up to, I've only taken a passive interest in Dido's solo music. Maybe it's just how overplayed her hit singles ended up (dear Lord, was White Flag ever abused through the mid-'00s!), but I never felt the need to dig further into her album material. That said, I cannot deny some curiosity in how Rollo's production would translate into the folk-pop arena. The chap's always had a flair for the dramatic, but was equally capable of dialing things back for proper chill moments too. And there's plenty of examples of his touch in Life For Rent.

Yes, Dido's lyrics and guest guitarists generally take centre-stage (including Rick Nowels, Adam Zimmon, and Dave Randall). Scope out those dubby Balearic touches in Stoned though! Or the gentle, sweeping pads in See You When You're 40. Or the cavernous sonic depth in the mini-breakdown in Do You Have A Little Time. Or the trip-hop flourishes in Who Makes You Feel. Sand In My Shoes even has a minor, clubby build, though that's likely Sister Bliss' additional production at play. I know these aren't the things I'm supposed to focus on in a Dido album, but old habits, y'know?

U2 - War

Island Records: 1983

War, hah! What's it good for? Giving a budding Irish band the proper break-out they needed, is what. They'd already made oscillations in new wave circles with their debut Boy and follow-up October, but it was their third album that we hear the germination of what most consider the definitive U2 stylee. Arena rock anthems, political issues... um, wait, something's missing here. Oh yeah, that Eno touch. Right, the true definitive, universally adored sound of U2 didn't manifest itself until subsequent albums, but there's a contingent of O.G. U2 fan-Zs that claim Brian and Daniel Lanois ruined what had been a promising raw alternative rock band. That, if you want to experience Bono, The Edge, Adam, and Mullen (the cute one!) at their honest, roughest best... you should probably go with Boy.

But hey, War was still a Steve Lillywhite produced album, so not quite as arty as Eno would go; besides, they'd already tried that with October. War instead finds the band returning to a purer rock approach – it was only appropriate for such a heavy, politically-driven topic, getting their music into the knit and grit of conflict and the aftermath's ugliness. Plus, just in case you figured they might be going for something more abstract or glorified in selling the notion of war, they used a similarly posed photo of Peter Rowen on the cover, except now replacing the innocent boy of Boy with a stern, aged glower, suggesting the human cost of senseless struggle.

The band doesn't pull its punches either, opening the album with the strident, military march of Sunday Bloody Sunday, a song about the Bogside Massacre, where over a dozen civilian Irish protesters were killed by British soldiers, many more injured. Add in a wailing violin and Bono's harrowing cries of “I can't close my eyes; And make it go away”, and you've a song that definitely sticks in your memory.

It's the lead single though, New Year's Day, that really gave U2 their distinct panache for arena rock. That instantly memorable piano line, the propulsive bass, the jangly guitar work, and Bono's wailing – you can't think of U2 without thinking of this song, even if you don't realize it's from the War album. I sure didn't, the echo, reverb, and polished production having me think it latter-'80s U2 for the longest time.

A criticism often levied upon War is that the remaining eight songs don't reach the same highs as Sunday Bloody Sunday and New Year's Day, especially dragging in the back-half. Can't deny that, though they're by no means weak songs either. Two Hearts Beat As One and Like A Song... are strong rockers, Drowning Man features more soul-tugging violin work, The Refugee sounds like something The Police might have wrote, and Surrender climbs close to the same lofty peaks of New Year's Day. It all makes for a strong rock album, but if you come to U2 for their artistic dalliances, perhaps a little one-note overall.

Neil Young - Unplugged

Reprise Records: 1993

Oh hey, Neil. Sure don’t talk about you as often these days, do I? I’ve gone through nearly every album I own of yours now, is why, a smattering of stragglers all that’s left in my collection. Maybe I’ll beef it up some more down the line, but honestly, twenty-five albums from a single artist is quite a bit for any fan of a musician. I’m not sure how hardcore followers of Frank Zappa or Merzbow survive without going insane.

And strangely, what I’m reviewing today is only partially a Neil Young album. This particular live performance was produced in conjunction with MTV Unplugged, the Grammy winning series that featured famous musicians playing acoustic concerts, often emphasizing those with careers defined by loud rock or synthy pop (and a little rap on the side). The series first started in 1989, with acts like Aerosmith, Elton John, Paul McCartney, Stevie Ray Vaughan, R.E.M., The Cure, and, um, Ratt, all scoring gigs. Things rapidly changed for MTV Unplugged though, when Eric Clapton scored a huge commercial and critical hit with his 1992 effort, the series suddenly propelled into the spotlight as an outlet for all manner of musicians looking for a little extra prestige in their resumes. The series’ reputation only solidified when Nirvana did their acoustic performance twenty-two months later. Between those two critical peaks in MTV Unplugged’s legacy, ol’ Shakey did an unplugged set of his own.

Already a darling with the MTV sect, the Godfather Of Grunge was an obvious choice for this concert concept. What joy could we have hearing stripped-down renditions of such classic rockers like Cinnamon Girl, Cowgirl In The Sand, and Like A Hurricane. Or even newer classics like Rockin’ In The Free World, This Note’s For You, and Harvest Moon. Wait, that one’s already rather acoustic to begin with. In fact, three tracks from that ultra-mellow album appear on Unplugged, plus a number of older folksy material too. There’s Pocahontas, The Needle And The Damage Done, Long May You Run, Helpless, and Look Out For My Love. Basically half of this live acoustic album features songs that were already acoustic in the first place. Eh, well, it’s nonetheless amusing that he’d play them for the MTV generation.

Still, the ‘unplugged’ renditions of the other tunes are worth the listen in. For instance, Transformer Man is on here! Yeah, didn’t think ol’ Shakey would ever dust off that synth-pop tune, much less for an acoustic version. The guitar epic Like A Hurricane does appear here, but performed solo on a pump organ, of all things (think mini pipe organ) – though really, it’s about the only ‘acoustic’ instrument that could capture the same grandeur as the original. A couple other way-oldies in rocker Mr. Soul and the originally over-dubbed The Old Laughing Lady also feature, plus an unreleased song in Stringman from the original Chrome Dreams sessions. Guess that about covers it for your typically esoteric Neil Young concert track list. Only thing missing would be something from Old Ways.

Khruangbin - The Universe Smiles Upon You

Night Time Stories: 2015

Damn, it happened again. I was woodhinked. Blambozzled. Tricksied out of my onesie. Led astray by a lass named Mary-Lee into the waiting clutches of Donald Van Baron Wolfenstein. I mean, is it really so hard in this day and age, for the electronic music section of a record shop to have exclusively electronic music? It used to be I’d find the ‘oontz-oontz’ occasionally floating about the Rap shelves (because Hip-House) or Rock section (because Industrial), but never a traditional band rubbing shoulders with my FSOL and 808 State. This isn’t even one of those indie ‘dream pop’ deals again, where some synths are utilized by such musicians.

Nay, Khruangbin (the name’s Thai, though the band’s Texan) is a pure three-piece, taking influences from obscure southeast Asian rock bands of fifty years hence. The only reason I can assume this ended up in the ‘Dance’ section is because The Universe Smiles Upon You comes care of Night Time Stories, a sub-label of LateNightTales, whom have had a long relationship with the chill side of electronic music, often tapping such musicians for their compilation series of the same name. Still, it’s not like Warp Records’ rock releases or Ninja Tune’s jazz outfits haven’t found homes in the wrong sections of record shops either, solely due to said label’s standing reputation within music scenes at large. Plus, how many LateNightTales CDs are filled with anything but electronic music anyway? No, really, I’m asking because the only one I’ve heard through is the Fatboy Slim one!

Anyhow, Khruangbin peddle in a light, breezy form of folksy rock that’s almost entirely instrumental. Only two tracks on this debut of theirs features lyrics of any kind - White Gloves and Balls And Pins - and often very simple ones at that. Deeply challenging words aren’t in Khruangbin’s plans, content in letting the listener drift away in their dreamy tunes drenched in echo and reverb. Mostly they go for a mild funk (Mr. White, Dern Kala, People Everywhere, and August Twelve with the wiki-wiki guitar licks), with a couple dalliances into soul, blues (Zionsville), and whatever it is Little Joe & Mary is doing with that slide guitar business (country? surf??).

I should mention these style tags are quite nebulous where Khruangbin’s sound is concerned. The honest truth is their music doesn’t tidily fit into any of those categories, the band an assemblage of AM soft rock from the ‘70s, with a touch of modern shoegaze thrown in for good measure. My old man made a comparison to Boz Scaggs when I pressed him for some insight into this sort of music, which forced me to take in more Boz Scaggs than the one song everyone knows from him to confirm. Yeah, I’d say the comparison’s apt.

All said, The Universe Smiles Upon You truly is a pleasant little album to throw on (even my Nan liked it), and despite my ranting above, a nice divergence from my usual fare.

The Tragically Hip - Trouble At The Henhouse

MCA Records: 1996

We always assumed they’d be around, consistently making affable alternative rock for the bars and the hockey stadiums and the mega-Canadian events. They’re like that reliable Mom-N-Pop deli shop in your neighborhood that could make a perfect pea and bacon soup, or sports store that still sold that one brand of curling broom. You never needed them in your life, but somehow felt enriched by having The Tragically Hip there, something to return to whenever the Want presented itself. And upon hearing of lead singer Gordon Downie’s terminal brain cancer, and how The Hip’s current tour would be their last with him, every Canadian suddenly found themselves in want of returning to the band’s music. Even those who’d only had passing interest (*cough*) tuned in for their final performance together in Kingston, Ontario. While it’s entirely possible The Hip could carry on as a band without Downie, it’s difficult imagining so, the man such an integral part of what made The Hip who they were. Without those poetic tales of common clay under unusual circumstances, they’d never have wooed such a large swath of Canadians finding some connection within their songs.

See, this is what I’m writing about. Who really cares about this singular, twenty year old album of The Tragically Hip when this band that so many of my countrymen adore may have just played their last ever concert! It overshadows everything else in the here-and-now, unlike way back in Spring 2014 (!) when I wrote my first couple reviews of them. I’ll give it the ol’ college try though.

Trouble At The Henhouse was the follow-up to their most critically acclaimed record, Day For Night. The band was probably at the peak of their popularity by the mid-‘90s, and this album quickly capitalized on that, scoring them one of their only Number One hits in this country with lead single Ahead By A Century. Yeah, funny thing about The Hip is, while their LPs typically did gang-busters on the Canadian charts, the singles seldom ever cracked Top 10. Anyway, it’s easy to hear why Ahead By A Century would finally do the damage, a pleasant folksy ditty with a heavier bridge near the end, and instantly catchy lyrics like “And that’s when the hornet stung me; And I had a feverish dream.” The song that always catches my ears though, is Butts Wigglin, though probably entirely due to its use in the Kids In The Hall movie, Brain Candy. (and, um, that title)

Quite a few songs off this album made the rounds on Canadian radio (Gift Shop, Springtime In Vienna, Flamenco), while others get heavier (Coconut Cream, Let’s Stay Engaged) or bluesy (Sherpa, Put It Off). Trouble At The Henhouse doesn’t really offer much new from The Hip though, and the band would start a very long slide into MOR rock territory after this. Enough memorable tunes lurk here that it’s still in discussion as Essential Hip, but probably the least as such from their ‘90s heyday.

ACE TRACKS: June 2016

Guess what! I’ve reached the ‘Tr’s of my epic, endless journey through music I own, so you know what that means: it’s time to kick off a Summer Of Trance! Okay, ‘summer’ is pushing it some, but at least a July’s worth, especially if we include items through ‘trans’. Finally though, all of my trancecracker glories and fails will come to light, everything I own that’s trance. Except for the releases that started with ‘Goa’ or ‘Psy’. And all those In Trance We Trust mixes too, I guess. Plus anything that had ‘trance’ in its title, just not the start, come to think of it. Hell, even some releases that didn’t have ‘trance’ at all, like A Day On Our Planet or Dreamland or Ideas From the Pond or Rendezvous In Outer Space. Fine, this upcoming bundle of trance is but a fraction of the total amount floating about my stores of CDs. Trust me though, after a month of this, you’ll be begging for variety. Gangsta rap, psychedelic rock, minimal derp-haus, anything! Or hey, whatever’s on this ACE TRACKS playlist for June 2016. Yes, nailed the segueway!



Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
Various - Toronto Mix Sessions: Kenny Glasgow
Various - Trade: Past Present Future

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 2%
Percentage of Rock: 34%
Most “WTF?” Track: The Archies - Sugar, Sugar (how do I suddenly have diabetes after listening to this song!?? …but seriously, another Dronny Darko piece is the answer)

Not quite as eclectic as these past couple months, as I mostly spent June wrapping up backlog before carrying on with ‘T’ albums. Heavier on the folky, alternative, and indie rock than anything else, but also got into familiar territory again with trip-hop, d’n’b, techno, and Neil Young. Really not much else to say about this playlist, because TRANCE is coming, man! TRANCE!

The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Strung Out In Heaven

TVT Records: 1998

I’ve hit saturation point of how much alternative music I can handle. What a petty complaint. It’s not like I’m digging into the truly obscure recesses of the indie realms, most names cropping up well-known, respected talent with deserved critical and commercial success. Plus I’ve spent these past two months keeping a toe or two in electronic genres I’m familiar with, all the while exploring the darker regions of a specific sub-genre. Yet here I am, face to ear with another indie rock band I know nothing about, hearing tunes that are all fine and dandy Worhals, but my mind sub-consciously keeps turning it to mush. It’s as though the previous fifty releases I’ve reviewed are a smorgasbord of music, filled with entrees I’m familiar with but several I’ve never actually sampled. And darn it, I’ve paid for the All You Can Eat option, so I’m gonna’ sample everything in this spread. But man, am I ever feeling stuffed finally getting to those last few dishes.

Anyhow, The Brian Jonestown Massacre. This is a band headlined by one Anton Newcombe, the sort of eccentric musician I’m sure many music scribes have described as ‘authentic’ or ‘audacious’, fearing few paths with his sonic adventures. Starting out as a ‘shoegaze’ group, the San Fran band shows no shame in their love of psychedelic rock, and curse their luck getting their start in the ‘90s. No, wait, that's when starry-eyed gazes back to the decade of Dylan, Beatles, Byrds, and Stones kicked in, to say nothing of movie soundtracks revitalizing ‘70s music for a younger generation. This was the perfect time for The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s brand of rock to flourish!

TVT Records certainly thought so, signing the band to a fat, multi-album contract after their underground cred starting bubbling over. The result is Strung Out In Heaven, an album that sounds like an HD remaster of ‘60s folk rock. Apparently band member Matt Hollywood wrote more of the songs in this outing, what with Anton getting too deep in that heroin lifestyle. Silly Anton, you save that drug for the ‘70s throwbacks – ‘60s was all on that acid trip, yo’.

Listening to this album, I feel like it was intended as a soundtrack for an epic Americana indie film, another celluloid attempt at On The Road where the only bad choice the protagonist makes is going home. Seems TVT Records felt the same way, the packaging straight out of some ‘60s pulp cinema, the band members listed on the cover like stars of the film. There’s plenty of dreamy melodies, groovy Hammond organs, folksy strumming, and stoned singing, a total love-letter to times past as envisioned by musicians far removed from the era. Too much of an ode, turns out, Strung Out In Heaven failing to sell anywhere near TVT’s expectations. Realizing the band was a bit too ‘out there’ for the major independent print, Brain Jonestown Massacre mutually split from TVT, and they went back to making weirdo music again.