Our Week In Music 03/08/2009

With Soft Skeleton AWOL in some muddy field, surrounded by some muddy people and the shit-stink of sheep, I become your DJ for the week, taking charge of the Spotify beast and force-feeding you the tunes that’re buzzing around my head. My taste is more diverse than Julio Eglasias covering traditional Inuit  songs, so you can expect some genre-bending tracks to jolt you into life on yet another bloody Monday. So shut your door, kick your feet up and immerse yourself my Week In Music.

Elliott Smith – Waltz #2 (XO)

Yes sir, it’s entirely possible that, by the end of this column you will have hanged yourself, but what you do in the comfort of your own home is none of my business. (I don’t think.) With one of the most melancholic voices I’ve ever heard, Smith managed to twist his tale around sublime musicianship, with painfully frank lyrics and through classical forms, best exemplified by this and other waltzes he recorded during his time. Bouncing from drugs to love, to drugs again, Smith attained cult status with songs that we can all relate to, in one way or another. Aside from the fact his songs appear in two of my favourite films of all-time, he is easily one of my top five favourite artists, either living or dead.

Belle & Sebastian – Piazza, New York Catcher

Finding this song in the depths of my sister’s iPod whilst on our recent jaunt around Scotland was a tremendously pleasant surprise. It is another simple song, a rainy day song to crack a smile on the most stern of faces. I’m terrible at deriving song meanings, and often-times, the messages behind them, so I’m going to steer clear of the ‘is it about baseball?’ or ‘is it a love song?’ debate, all I know is that it’s a song to get lost in, in the voice and in the guitar. Lovely, lovely.

Regina Spektor – Chemo Limo

Soft Skeleton stole my thunder last week, and rightly so. Spektor’s work prances the high-wire of quirky pop music with faultless ease, and it is quite likely that ‘Far’ will not leave my CD player for quite some time. But this? Lengthy and with more mood swings than a pop diva it’s not a hit or as easy to listen to as the vast majority of her work. I would also be lying if I didn’t say that, a great deal of affection I have for this song relies on the recurring line: ‘Crispy, crispy Benjamin Franklin.’ It’s out of left-field, and it’s great, so give it time.

Slayer – War Ensemble

Firstly, I warned you. Secondly, I’m the least stereotypical Slayer (I hesitate to use the word fan) fan imaginable. I drum when I have nothing better to do, and have a fancy penchant for the clean-cut guitar sound that died out sometime in the early 1990s (thank you, Kurt Cobain), so don’t pool me with the bearded Hells Angels, just yet.  This song, in its unrelenting run-time gets my feet tapping like nothing else and is a veritable classic in the Air Drumming department. And for those of you who’re still drowsy: if this doesn’t wake you up, you can have your money back. Just get in touch with my colleague for details.

Rodrigo y Gabriela – Tamacun

I know as much about this song, as I do about the pronunciation required to do the title justice. It sounds like some sanitary product to me, but what do I know. I remember watching these two do a set at Glastonbury (don’t worry folks, I was good, warm and comfortable on my sofa) and it astounded me, as much as two acoustic guitar playing people can, at any rate. A perfect accompaniment, if nothing else, to a fine cup of Peruvian coffee…or a Cuban cigar…or any other Latin American product one can enjoy.

Suicide – Ghost Rider

This song, when I heard it for the first time, sat me bolt upright in my chair. My ears pricked like an attentive dog; the combo of Rev and Vega had me. It’s hypnotic and captivating, and another of their songs provided me with my Spotify username. An important, under-rated act which flies under the radar of many people’s lists of influential artists who affected both the rock world, but also the emerging hip-hop scene. ‘Johnny’, a song by Suicide, also is the backing to one of my favourite YouTube videos…which I now see is no longer there. Oh well, nice low point to finish on.

50 Cent (& Justin Timberlake) – Ayo Technology

I can feel Soft Skeleton spontaneously combusting. But this is my show and your tunes, so turn it up. As I may or may not have said, I’m in no way a hip-hop savant – heck – I don’t even capitalise it. However, attentive basketball fans out there will recognise this as the introduction music to the pre-game ritual which the Boston Celtics indulged in during their Championship-winning run the season before last. Personally? 50 Cent’s work is entirely chauvinistic, horrifying and frankly, ear-killing, however, I’m willing to subdue the feminist in me in favour of including this track for your enjoyment. So do the robot or whatever it is that is done these days. Wikki-wild!

Kate Bush – Wuthering Heights

Mostly because I don’t want to like Florence & The Machine, I’m putting this in to show the world how it should be done, wavering voice and all. Unlike anything I’ve ever heard before, it defies genre and is thoroughly enjoyable. More quirks than Spektor, more jaunty than Scottish roads and better than 99.9% of the songs out there. I feel this is a perfectly fitting time to shut up, so you can enjoy all of my selections with the peace and the quiet which they deserve.

As ever, the playlist can be found here unless my computer is being a bitch, in which case, this has been a staggering waste of time.

I have been Horace Blackspur, your resident DJ for the day, and you have been brilliant.

Stornoway // yawonrotS

That’s right, I got unnecessarily artistic with the title, what of it? 

Living on Stornoway for the foreseeable future (that is, the next five days), I felt now was the perfect time to bring you my view of Stornoway, the band. The town on the Isle of Harris, is so far north it may as well be a province belonging to Greenland, is relatively bleak, populated with more sheep than people, lapped by clearer seas than the Caribbean and home to Harris Tweed – need I say more? If I were to liken this island to a band, I’m fairly sure it would be impossible. However a hybrid consisting of The Young Knives and Radiohead might get relatively close to doing this bleak rock justice.  

Stornoway the band, as you might have predicted, are relatively new to me. As things stand, I have listened to approximately one minute of one song – a figure which is liable to change by the end of this piece, but that is far from a guarantee. A friend reminded me of their existence when I informed her of my presence on the island, and so at least one-seventh of the credit for this must go to her. Take a bow, you know who you are.

At heart, I like my music to be mellow – except for the occasions when I really dig some fine, fine drumming – and it strikes me that, Stornoway can be added to the growing list of artists who’re intent on bringing that fabeled quality back. (The mellow music, not the fine, fine drumming.) Folk is making a return, folks, and I for one am extremely happy about that. Given the hype which continues to surround Fleet Foxes, it is difficult not to draw comparisons, but I’m determined not to – if only to give them the credit they deserve, without qualifying it in the reflective praise of another outfit. 

BBC 6 Music equates their sound to that of falling in love, but I’m a glass half-empty kinda guy, so screw the guys that get paid for doing this. Stornoway leave behind the heartbroken woe of Bon Iver; there is a silver-lining in their music somewhere. Stornoway are like a child whose pet cat has just been run over…only the cat-killer was old Greensleeves himself: Mr Whippee the ice-cream man. (And if that’s not something to appreciate about a band, then I don’t know what is.) 

With Fleet Foxes, there is a practiced perfection to it all, as though the ragged and beard-clad members have channelled the very spirits of Crosby, Stills & Nash, and then proceeded to suck their routine, their knowledge and their musicality out through several bendy straws. Stornoway sound fresh, and human, as though a mistake is not the end of the world; but rather an ingredient in the final production of a unique performance. 

At this relatively late stage, I have now listened to 3 songs from Stornoway, and within that short span, they have impressed me greatly. A quick view of their myspace page illsutrates the level of praise they have garnered, from a wide selection of publications. Now however, they have collected the prize which all artists seek (whether they know it or not): Horace Blackspur’s seal of approval. (Something which money can buy, but only in large quantities.)   

I have been Horace Blackspur, and you have been brilliant.