New Albany is a state of mind … but whose? Since 2004, we’ve been observing the contemporary scene in this slowly awakening old river town. If it’s true that a pre-digital stopped clock is right twice a day, when will New Albany learn to tell time?
Welcome to the music playing inside my head. It won't necessarily play to everyone's taste, and that's as it should be. It's my damned blog, and I'll do with it as I please.
In 2018, I've resolved to offer a musical recap every two months. For those just tuning in, note that I no longer can carry a tune across the street without breaking both legs, but music's still playing in my head every waking moment.
I'm completely convinced that when the music stops playing, death will be near.
In addition, I'm the quintessential old fogey's stogie when it comes to music; no iTunes or playlists for me. Perversely, no vinyl, either; my albums are stacked over at the Public House, and I don't own a turntable.
As with books, each year I research and buy those CDs that seem best suited to my tastes. They're usually augmented with impulse buys and random excursions, and of course I listen to snippets of radio, YouTube and the like.
Before proceeding, here is another vicious and deadly accurate assessment of my deteriorating condition. Still talkin' 'bout my generation? That's nice, but my generation is utterly irrelevant insofar as its album-oriented preferences are concerned.
Sales are plummeting, and the music industry is returning to the era of track-led consumption. Is the LP doomed?
Make no mistake, the album is fighting for its life.
Sales of music’s most beloved format are in free fall in the United States this year. According to figures published by the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America), the value of total stateside album sales in the first half of 2018 (across download, CD and vinyl) plummeted by 25.8 percent when compared with the first half of 2017.
If that percentage decline holds for the full year, and there’s every indication it will, annual U.S. album sales in 2018 will end up at half the size of what they were as recently as 2015. To put it more plainly, U.S. consumers will spend around half a billion dollars less on albums this year than they did in 2017.
The CD album is, predictably, bearing the brunt of this damage. After a comfortable 6.5 percent drop in sales in 2017, in the first half of 2018, revenues generated by the CD album in the USA were slashed nearly in half – down 41.5 percent, to $246 million ...
Broadly speaking, these selections are listed in order of impact, but there are bits of value in them all. Links are to reviews with which I agree, except for Bill Champlin's album; it seems to have been reviewed nowhere.
Jason Williamson is the singer of Sleaford Mods, and as far as Andrew Fearn's t-shirt is concerned in this clip from earlier in the year, Louis CK hadn't yet been exposed.
Now, prepare for brutal honesty as Jason considers the British royal family in the context of current events.
The royal couple’s visit was probably as far north as they dared go to publicise their already overhyped nuptials
Did the Windsors’ PR look at statistics for which area of the UK holds the highest number of bloodless cap doffers? Is Nottingham full of them? The doughy-eyed apologists.
Perhaps this was as far north as Harry and Meghan dared go. To be honest I’m surprised they made it past Luton. And for what? To re-announce an already heinously over-publicised wedding engagement that will extract millions from us when it hits its big day? I’m assuming the convoy of Range Rovers didn’t have to experience the growing number of homeless people who are slowly being exterminated by the subzero temperatures, helped along by the guiding hand of this eternal austerity.
Before reading on, whether you’re seasoned or green with Sleaford Mods, it’d be helpful to watch two videos of the band. “Jobseeker”, performed on Later… with Jools Holland, and “Tied Up In Nottz” are certainly good starting places.
... The band’s discography is built on wordplay that offends and indicts, each syllable recounting the British class wars that have shaped Williamson’s life. Equal parts manifestos and barroom rants, Sleaford Mods songs find power in the amorphous boundary between the two. English Tapas, their newest release, is no exception.
SLEAFORD Mods have taken charge of Britain after staging a coup against the government.
The Nottingham double act stormed Whitehall armed with loud rants about the current state of affairs and successfully removed Theresa May’s government in less than eight minutes ...
Henceforth, the duo known as Sleaford Mods has been a very British phenomenon. Since last year's Brexit referendum, the analysis has reached the continent.
We’re in a situation now where I think people really need to take on a responsibility to learn, and to educate themselves. People need to feel angry about it; they should feel angry about it. In the poorer areas, there’s no education about politics. There’s no education about the system and how it works and what we need to do to survive.
As I write, Jason and Andrew are stateside for their first-ever American dates.
... The healing here is in the act of throwing yourself into a hopeless vision, a spin on the “getting on with it” intrinsic to Britishness. This impulse could be borrowed. Before Americans can sort out how many different cohorts sold out how many other cohorts, they — we — can find a way to say “we fucked up” without giving up.
I'll be kicking myself in the arse for not going to Chicago on Monday.
In early 2014 the Guardian hailed duo Sleaford Mods as ‘the most uncompromising British protest music made in years’. Here, we go backstage at a Sleaford Mods gig in their hometown of Nottingham to hear what singer Jason Williamson thinks about Brexit and the politicians drawing up the rules, while fans applaud the band for representing the world they live in.
If you're worried about losing your love of new music, your fears are justified. That's according to new research that finds listeners reach "maturity" around age 33. In other words, you're done with discovering new music when you reach your mid-thirties.
If I weren't a card-carrying atheist, I'd thank the alleged deity for allowing me to escape this sort of dreary purgatory. While I often may listen to "old" bands and performers, I'd like to hear them do "new" things. Keeping fresh is life's blood and mother's milk, and I had no intention of dying at 33 ... or 33 1/3, either.
Now, for the Top Five.
Numbers five and four were fixed in my mind, but the final three candidates kept changing position, and so I was compelled to devise a tiebreaker. Looking at the names of the songs on each of the three albums, how many times did the song in question start playing in my head without the benefit of prompting?
By this measure, there was distinct order, and a clear winner.
---
5. Sleaford Mods … Key Markets
Google this duo (Jason Williamson and Andrew Fearn), and see the words "post-punk alternative hip hop," without the modifier: "English." I wrote about Sleaford Mods twice ...
... and purchased two previous releases, Austerity Dogs (2013) and Divide and Exit (2014). By September, these tracks were synonymous with the campaign for mayor, and the only reason Key Markets doesn't finish higher in the countdown is that I'm still trying to learn all the words.
A defining aspect of the project’s sound is the hyper-specificity to their lyrics. Not only is there a heavy use of regional vernacular, but there are also plenty of references to places and figures that may get lost in translation across the pond. While it helps to know who former Deputy Prime Minster Nick Clegg to get a better understanding of “Face to Faces”, you don’t need to be familiar with British politics to connect with lyrics like “Is it right to analyze in a general sense the capital machine, its workings and what they mean?/ Passive articles on political debate, its implications are fucking meaningless, mate.”
4. Chvrches … Every Open Eye
Next comes the polar opposite of Sleaford Mods in every way imaginable. Synthpop and electronica are not genres populating my CD shelves, but I'm confident the day crew at Quills will corroborate this statement: No other mayoral candidate was listening to Chvrches while drinking coffee before planting yard signs.
CHVRCHES devote themselves to early-’80s British synth-pop the way some bands devote themselves to the blues. On their sophomore album, the cavernous synths of Tears for Fears meet Pet Shop Boys’ lovesick croon and the muscular glitter of Eurythmics, presided over by Lauren Mayberry’s powerhouse coo.
What can I say? When it comes to pop hooks, I have a glass jaw. I also found a cheap copy of Chvrches' inaugural album, The Bones of What You Believe (2013), and it's very good, too. The sophomore effort is stronger overall, though the single from 2013 ("The Mother We Share") is in a class by itself.
3. The Maccabees … Marks to Prove It
Appropriately, we now execute another abrupt u-turn on ridiculously wide East Spring Street, out of sight of ineffectual speed traps, and confront an dear old friend: Melancholia.
My weakness for tuneful pop is mirrored by a love of equally tuneful gloom, although in fairness, this British outfit has its share of brighter moments. I know little about The Maccabees, and Marks to Prove It made no impression until the third listen, after which it has been played once or twice a week ever since (and was joined by Given to the Wild, the band's 2012 release).
The fourth album by the south London quintet has a strange, disconcerting intensity about it – a self-destructive energy battling with mawkish introspection. While recent releases from indie’s new guard – Wolf Alice, Peace, Swim Deep – are hippyishly optimistic, the Maccabees, creeping close to 30, seem despondent when faced with the future.
"Spit It Out" might be my favorite song of the year.
2. Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds … Chasing Yesterday
Oasis fans forever will pine for the toxic chemistry of Noel and brother Liam, and there is something to the contention that a little of Noel goes a long way, crying out for the snarling obnoxiousness of his younger sibling. I'd argue that Noel has turned this equation on its head by transforming himself into a curmudgeonly British cottage industry and veritable quote machine, cannily grasping social media's need for constant content and supplying wit on demand.
Of course, it helps that he's a serial writer of great pop songs.
The most impressive thing about ‘Chasing Yesterday’ is the playfulness that’s woven throughout it. It’s there in the snippets of studio banter, the unexpected instrumentation, the massive choruses, and the enduring couldn’t-give-a-fuck attitude he’s surely developed that lets him toss off lazy rhymes while knowing he’ll get away with it. It’s the sound of Noel Gallagher happy at work.
As this acoustic set for the BBC in December amply illustrates, Noel's just fine singing his own songs, and also those songs written originally for Liam. His first two solo albums are filled with quality songs, and they don't always sound Oasis-like. So be it. If I must grow up and move on, so must the rest of you.
1. FFS
Yes, it's true: In the early- to mid-1970s, the Floyd Central Key Market (Thriftway, et al) stocked Circus at the magazine rack, right beside Field & Stream and Good Housekeeping. I'll never know why, but the point is that Circus introduced me to the strange madness known as Sparks; specifically, the 1974 album Kimono My House.
Much later, Franz Ferdinand appeared -- not the ghost of the Habsburg heir whose assassination prompted World War I and sent me scurrying through Europe hunting traces in his wake, but the Scottish pop band.
Finally, yet another decade further along, Sparks and Franz Ferdinand joined to produce a delightful collaboration album.
While both acts give and take from each other, Franz ventures further into Sparks’ musical world than vice versa. The edgy post-punk cool that’s long been the Franz hallmark gets toned down to mesh with the Maels’ warped synthpop vision. And in the end, the wily veterans in Sparks uncover a little more of the pop band that lies at their younger proteges’ core.
"Piss Off" might be the unofficial national anthem of the New Gahanian resistance movement ...
... but the song "The Power Couple" cements the deal for me. First the audio, then the lyrics.
We need to relax, it's not a big deal
We cannot relax, it's such a big deal
The Power Couple's coming around
A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend
Is friends with their cook, and so, in the end
The Power Couple's coming around
The Power Couple's coming around
Ah, ah, ah, ah
The Power Couple's coming around
The glasses are clean,
the wine has been chilled
I'm starting to feel a little bit ill
The Power Couple's coming around
Intelligent talk, but naturally so
And if he should gawk, they'll say, "gotta go"
The Power Couple's coming around
The Power Couple's coming around
Ah, ah, ah, ah
The Power Couple's coming around
Segovia seems a fairly safe choice
We'll cue it all up
when we hear the Rolls-Royce
The Power Couple's coming around
The Power Couple's coming around
We've closed the garage and hidden our Kia
And wait for the chance to raise our idea
The Power Couple's coming around
Our future depends on how they respond
I hope that we're both extremely on
The Power Couple's coming around
The Power Couple's coming around
Ah, ah, ah, ah
The Power Couple's coming around
And should they respond, we'll go to Step 2
We planned it all out, we know what to do
The Power Couple's coming around
This could be the day that changes our lives
The day that good fortune finally arrives
The Power Couple's coming around
The Power Couple's coming around
We must make a good impression
We must make a great impression
After all, every neighborhood association needs an anthem.
"Ten years ago the Sleaford Mods frontman Jason Williamson was lucky if he could afford a Mars bar and a can of Special Brew."
I'll forever remember the period of my mayoral campaign as the time back in '15 when Sleaford Mods and New Albany became absolutely synonymous in my mind. Jason Williamson kept saying what I was thinking. Some might say associations like this were enough to disqualify me as a "serious" candidate.
I think they identified me as the ONLY serious candidate.
... Among critics in particular, there remains a longing for music that deals in hardened social comment, as evidenced by the feeling of relief bound up in the belated recognition of the Nottingham duo Sleaford Mods. In early 2014, their first notice in the Guardian hailed “the most uncompromising British protest music made in years”, and the fact that the album they released the previous year was titled Austerity Dogs only heightened the sense of the cavalry coming over the hill. Their songs were – and still are – bound up with the arse-end of modern work, the grimmer aspects of weekend hedonism, and a very contemporary awareness of horizons shrinking at speed. Who else in modern English music is doing anything similar?
Jason Williamson speaks of the way he began taking "mental shapshots" of his own failure.
... The eureka moment came one morning in spring 2006. "I had no money. I'd just have enough for a Mars bar, most days, and a can of Special Brew. And I wrote a song called Teacher Faces Porn Charges, about going to the shop in my pyjamas, to buy the Mars bar and the can."
A friend, Simon Parfrement, (nicknamed "Parf"), and still an integral part of Sleaford Mods' set-up) suggested combining Williamson's words with a loop lifted from a Roni Size record. "And it worked, straight away," he says. "It was better than anything I'd ever done. I took it home, and I couldn't believe how good it was. That's how Sleaford Mods was born."
... When I say culture, I don't mean something that can be packaged up and sold back at people so they accept their own inferiority. Austerity Dogs isn't "we're all in this together" claptrap, nor some expensively educated pillock holidaying in other peoples' poverty like they've never heard 'Common People'. Rather, it's soaked in the impossible realities of the everyday, and it reworks that into something truly astonishing. Each song is a stream-of-unconsciousness from the collective dream-time of the dead-end worker who's pissed off with his boss, pissed off with shit drug dealers, pissed off with aggro cunts in clubs, pissed off with "Brian Eno – what the fuck does he know?" It's Chris Morris with a class consciousness, laying bare the surreal tapestry of horrors that face the working class in Britain today.
... A recent tweet from Sleaford Mods succinctly sums up both the position they find themselves in and the feeling they reflect in their music: “This is our time.”
Williamson works up a spectacular level of poisoned anger across these 12 songs – about the vapidity and duplicity of modern party politics, and about crap bands, but just as often about unnamed nemeses from his personal life. (NME)
An earlier video concludes. Don't we all know one?
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