Phonology - Reviews

Malcolm Middleton - Into The Woods

sisterphonetica — Thu, 11 Aug 2005 18:56:26 +0000

    Malcolm Middleton is obsessed with bears. His new album, Into The Woods, redolent with delicate arrangements and sonically adept, just keeps coming back to bears. It's no teddy bear's picnic though.

    An accomplished lyricist with conversational delivery and self deprecating humour, Malcolm Middleton has produced an album full of surprises. If you're put off by regionally accented vocals, don't discount this album as on repeated listening the strength of the songwriting breaks through.

    Despite the self absorbed melancholia of many of the songs, Middleton has his tongue in his cheek. The opening track Break My Heart proclaims I don't want to sing these shit songs anymore. There's a hint of Aztec Camera, a fiercely Scottish Roddy Frame in Devastation.

    But it doesn't stop there. Distorted noise and pop electronica add to the layers of sound and keep challenging the listener's expectations of what this album's all about. At times there are are so many twists that you think Middleton's tied himself in knots, but the songs and lyrics are distinctive enough to hold it all together.

    A collaborative work with a wealth of Scottish talent Into The Woods has contributions from members of the Delgados, Mogwai, The Reindeer Section and Aidan Moffat, also of Arab Strap.

    Having stated that this is a more positive album for him, the lyrics are uniformly bleak. Mentions of being knifed for Christmas (Burst Noel) and realising I hate myself (A Happy Medium) are cynically delivered on a cushion of soothing sound. Often funny because it's true, and riddled with puns, he wears it well.

    What are the bears all about? Maybe he just wants a cuddle.

Brought to you in association with the reservoir.

Mercury Rev @ Glasgow Barrowlands, 6/3/2005

sisterphonetica — Thu, 12 May 2005 09:02:55 +0000

Oops, This has been hanging around on my HD for months. Better late than never...

Mercury Rev hail from a land of twinkly dreampop where everything shimmers. Following the release of The Secret Migration,this tour demonstrates that they are still at the very top of their game. The set consists mainly of songs from the most recent three albums, the most accessible and successful of their catalogue being Deserter's Songs.However, the show is a sounding board for The Secret Migration and shows they can really cut it live. The album suffers from overproduction but in the live setting they can carry off the pomp and psychedelia. In a Funny Way, the stand out track from the album is earnest, upifting and sweet, held together with a 60s pop beat. Throughout the set Jeff Mercel's drumming is outstanding and holds the often ethereal experience together. In fact, during A Secret for a Song his skill is so effortless it looks like he's drumming in slow motion

Mercury Rev are certainly a band of great contrasts, with thunderous expansive soundscapes topped by fragile vocals and wistful lyrics. They love to put on a great show, with psychedelic visuals, inspirational quotes and theatrical gestures. During Black Forest (Lorelei), vocalist Jonathan Donahue looks and sounds as if he might just float off.

Opus 40 (from Deserter's Songs)is accompanied by its strangely beautiful video shot in black and white. It seems like this is the moment that the crowd has been waiting for and suddenly the spacious hall is filled with love. From this moment on, we're swept up into the psychedelic dreamworld of the Rev,and no-one, least of all the band, want to leave.

Brought to you in association with the reservoir.

Roots Manuva and M.I.A., The Arches, Glasgow 27th February 2005

sisterphonetica — Mon, 07 Mar 2005 12:40:51 +0000

    M.I.A. swoop onto the stage with a wash of tiger graphics as a backdrop. It's a well publicised fact that Maya Arul comes from a Tamil family in Sri Lanka, and her visual art rarely lets that drop. The music, however, is a fusion of exotic and dancehall rhythms with some great, energetic rapping. A bass heavy drone fills the room accompanied by whiny grimy girl rapping. More melodic than most rappers, the intricacies of the programming and subtle grooves of finger piano are lost in the poor acoustics of the venue. But the groove won't stop. The lyrics are topical, feminist and sometimes political. The debut single, Galang whilst suffering from feedback, remains the stand out track with its infectious rhythm and quirky groove.

    Roots Manuva has grown up. He's still as funny and bombastic as ever, but tonight's show proves that he has some hidden depths. Imagine having your very own cheerleader, a man with the smoothest soul voice announcing your arrival on stage. And that's how it begins. With a full live funk band in addition to turntablists and boffins, Roots Manuva is in control of this whole shebang. And it is, to borrow his terminology, splendid.

    The fact that he's wearing a white baseball cap in Glasgow raises a smile as does his lucky waistcoat. The show kicks off with Babylon Medicine, a ragga style monster with a rolling squelchy wobbling bassline, accompanied by the best lightshow ever seen in Glasgow. Huge insanely bright LEDs pulsate behind the band and Roots is blown away by the response of the audience. Throughout the night his catchphrase is that it's Insania in here!

    Join the Dots is like playing catchup with the rhythm, bass booming, with technical vocal skill and the crowd completely swept up in the whole experience. Tracks from the new album Awfully Deep are on the whole less challenging musically, but lyrically and vocally more touching. Some of the artifice has been stripped away and this sounds like the Real Rodney. Thinking and Too Cold, in particular, are a departure from the macho posturing we expect from Hip Hop and Ragga artistes.

    The night finishes off with Dreamy Days and Witness (1 Hope), leaving the crowd mulling over what they've just experienced and screaming for more.

Brought to you in association with the reservoir.

Embrace - Glasgow Barrowlands 22nd February 2005

sisterphonetica — Sun, 27 Feb 2005 16:11:22 +0000

    Anechoic are a young, white t-shirted 4 piece. Their sweet three part harmonies, swooping counterpoint and often sparse, light touches are faintly reminiscent of Crowded House. The crowd of Embrace fans welcome them generously to the Barrowlands. Surprised at the warm reception, the band mention their debut single release Just Like You on 14th March, to rapturous applause. The crowd at an Embrace gig are easily pleased though, and all seem a little bit overexcitable.

    As Embrace take to the stage to a brief intro of gospel and blues, it seems there might be something here to prove. Good Taste perhaps? They have a funny way of showing it. The capacity crowd practically drowns out the band from the first tune of the night - Ashes. Doubtless, Danny McNamara has a mostly effortless pop voice, but if he thinks standing with his arms outstretched, letting the audience do all the work is "working the crowd", he's sadly mistaken. They're at the top of their game, they have fans who love them. It's all too easy to just get plain lazy.

    Their uplifting style of pomp rock really is fairly solid, but churning out turgid anthems one after another seems a fairly pointless task. Music for allcomers? This bland melancholic tripe is music for people who don't actually enjoy music. It's music for chanting along with your drunk mates down the pub on a Saturday night, All You Good Good People being a prime example.

    Brand new material such as Contender gets a groove going, with a fuzz guitar riff, megaphone filtered vocals and ends up a stoned lazy wigout. It may be flawed, but at least there's less of the atonal dirge about it. The crowd can take it or leave it, as they don't know the words.

    If you like music, check out Anechoic, but leave before Embrace come on.

Brought to you in association with the reservoir.

Mercury Rev - The Secret Migration

sisterphonetica — Tue, 22 Feb 2005 14:15:46 +0000

Having formed in the late 1980s, it took Mercury Rev a good ten years to break through into public consciousness. Their moment of glory, Deserter's Songs (1998), was a critical and popular success, laden with ghostly soundscapes and the eerie sound of a musical saw. Now, seven years later, their psychedelic leanings have been drenched in reverb and lost in a wall of sound.
    The Secret Migration is in some ways a masterpiece of dreamy psychedelic pop. From the hallucinatory mothwoman artwork on the cover, to the fey lyrics and thin, reedy vocals it's trippy through and through. But not much more. The piano is often beautifully played, but the songs themselves only hint at the anthems they might have been. In fact, it's very much like a weaker Flaming Lips album.
The overdubbed vocal harmonies give a lightness in tracks like Diamonds and the too brief Moving On, but they're too light. There's some exceptional drumming on the album, particularly in Black Forest (Lorelei), but technical proficiency doesn't make up for the fact that the individual parts just never gel. The production is almost entirely made up of reverb and echo, but instead of creating a formidable wall of sound, it's overblown, like wading through a swamp with Tori Amos.

    The keyboard and synth sounds are stuck in the mid eighties, but not in a good way, and Jonathan Donahue's vocals, unique and unselfconscious seem to grate quite rapidly. The lyrics are acid washed love poetry through and through, and sorry, we've had our fill. The highlight of the album, In a Funny Way, is the only point where they really get it right. Here the drums take centre stage with a straightforward 60s pop rhythm and some meticulous jangly and twangy guitars.

    It would be a shame to see such obvious talent and musicianship go to waste, but with this album, it seems Mercury Rev have jumped the shark.

Brought to you in association with the reservoir.

Electric Six - Glasgow Barrowlands, February 20th 2005

sisterphonetica — Mon, 21 Feb 2005 11:42:25 +0000

    After a Led Zep lite, Suedette support by Hoggboy, Electric Six take to the stage in a blue light. Accompanied by a gospel mumbo jumble the six piece band are cocksure and ready to rumble. Living up to their Wildbunch reputation vocalist (Dick Valentine) is happy to announce that he's hammered, losing it, and in need of a day off. Not an encouraging start, whatever way you like to look at it.

    True to their title, the band actually is a six piece, with leanings toward white boy funk meshed with twangy stadium rawk. Valentine, very much the centrepiece of the band, tries to be cool and charismatic, but ends up looking faintly ridiculous. His stage persona is so much of an act that it's difficult to keep it going. However, the crowd lap it up, moshing to Naked Pictures (of your Mother), while drummer Percussion World (yes, that's what they call him) bangs away dismally. Valentine's headbanging looks rather like Kermit the frog.

    The camp fun you hear on an Electric Six record is all but lost. Valentine's diction is less tortuous live than on record and to be honest, he enunciates so clearly that your mother might approve. The falsetto vocals are weak and tired sounding, and only Johnny Na$hinal's twangy guitar rings true in songs like Gaybar and Danger! High Voltage! Everything sounds muddier, heavier and saggier than you might have hoped. There's cowbells on that drum kit, but the disco flavour only shines through for seconds at a time. By the encore of Radio GaGa, both the sea of clapping hands and the band are just going through the motions. All interest and groove is lost in a swamp of cock rock.

Brought to you in association with the reservoir.

The Fiery Furnaces - EP

sisterphonetica — Wed, 26 Jan 2005 18:41:18 +0000

    Pop opera is one of those genres that just doesn't come round or stay around very often. But on first listen, The Fiery Furnaces' new album EP is just that. All very knowing and self conscious. And this is their pop side. It's like Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody cranked up times 100 and trying to be clever. A million different time signatures, asides, tempos and multiple sections in each song. After three or four songs it's starting to get more than a little irritating. Calm down and stop showing off, please.

    As an album, it's a lesson in how musical intelligence doesn't always work. There are some great singalong moments, and some of the indie kids are going to love its archness. Whether it's alliteration overload in Sullivan's Social Slub, or the shock of setting domestic violence to a happy pop tune in Single Again, it's certainly full of surprises. The musicianship throughout is superb, and there are plenty catchy tunes, but it just won't settle. Shifting around to such a degree makes for uncomfortable listening. In some ways it's similar to the prog pop of Mansun's Six, with its segues and self conscious lyrics and production. It's all well and good doing something because you can, but when it doesn't gel it's time to think twice.

    If you don't get the references (e.g. Duffer St. George rips the piss out of the Shoreditch set) some of that archness is lost, and the music becomes more of a focus, making everything seem much more lighthearted. This would be a much more likeable album if it didn't take itself so seriously. Lighten up, Furnaces!

Brought to you in association with the reservoir

Emiliana Torrini - Fisherman's Woman

sisterphonetica — Sat, 22 Jan 2005 20:53:54 +0000

    Emiliana Torrini has one of those highly individual, quirky voices that provoke strong reactions in the listener. Some might find her ever so affected and fey, but a closer listen unveils hidden depths in her lightly accented voice. The half Italian, half Icelandic singer specialises in simple melodic songs and lightly poetic lyrics.

    After an award winning success with the song she wrote for Kylie (Slow), and Gollum's Song for the second film in The Lord of the Rings Trilogy: The Two Towers, Fisherman's Woman goes back to basics. The album was written with Brixton based producer, Mr Dan and is a largely acoustic, stripped down affair.

    A concept album of sorts, Fisherman's Woman is based around loss yet a sense of hope. The opening track: Nothing Brings me Down sets the scene, with a haunting, shifting guitar and a steady melody. Her voice is sweet, quirky and cute, but there's hidden depths there, like someone old before her time. More traditional than Björk and less annoying than Stina Nordenstam, her voice is touching and uplifting.

    The first single from the album, SunnyRoad is reminiscent of Nick Drake in pop-folk mode, simple well crafted and joyful. The whole album is lightly hypnotic and comforting, the melodies sometimes repetitive, but never boring. Lifesaver creaks like a familiar old ship, lulling you into a false sense of security. Listen carefully and you can hear her smiling gently as an accordion drifts along in the background. The track Honeymoon Child, is set apart slightly from the main thrust of the album, as it was penned by Bill Callahan of (smog), but acts as a turning point rather than a distraction, as the second half is brighter and more upbeat. The title track Fisherman's Woman is a modern blues gem, playing with rhythm, wistful and heartbreaking, but much too short.

     A journey with Fisherman's Woman is like being becalmed on the ocean, a moment of hope and stillness, restful and refreshing.

Brought to you in association with the reservoir.

The Buzzcocks, Neville Staple, Carling Academy, Glasgow, 9th December 2004

sisterphonetica — Mon, 13 Dec 2004 20:35:35 +0000

    Sometimes the old tunes are the best. Neville Staple (of The Specials) has been gigging on and off for almost thirty years and really knows how to put on a show. From the outset the band replicates the joyful skankin ska of the two-tone period, with trombone and trumpet and the solid bass to back it up. Staple and his band are full of the boisterous energy of the post punk period, and include favourites such as Gangsters, Monkey Man and Rudi, A Message to You in their half hour set. Staple is promoting a new album The Rude Boy Returns, but by the sound of it, he's never been away.

    The Buzzcocks begin their set with a light show and monster drums. Those drums are to be the heart of the Buzzcocks set, as Phil Barker, the machine of a drummer never seems to pause for an instant. The set kicks of with an initially unrecognisable rendition of Autonomy, but when Pete Shelley's distinctive vocals merge with the rest of the sound, everything falls into place. Almost every one of The Buzzcocks' hits are rattled off at breakneck speed in a celebration of punk pop perfection. Original guitarist, Steve Diggle, mulleted and sporting a waistcoat å la Francis Rossi (of Status Quo) wrings some skronky punk solos out of his axe with all the enthusiasm of youth. In contrast to the pop punks of today, the old geezers still sound like they mean it after all these years.

    The audience is peppered with old punks with walking sticks, glam goths and casual 30-40 somethings. When called upon to provide the harmony in Harmony in my Head, they do so with vigour, and there's even a tiny mosh pit for the hardcore. The gig is reminiscent of the classic album Singles Going Steady, with classic following classic. Shelley's voice sounds the same as it did twenty five years ago, and the crowd goes ape for definitive Buzzcocks' tunes like Boredom and Ever Fallen In Love?

    When the encore rounds off the night with everyone's favourites, What do I Get? and Orgasm Addict it seems that they've simply run out of songs to play. There never seems to have been a pause of more than ten seconds throughout. You can keep your Blink 182. For punk pop it has to be The Buzzcocks, they might be punks with paunches, but we loved them.

Brought to you with the aid of the lovely people at the-reservoir.

George Melly, The Big Chris Barber Band, Glasgow Concert Hall, 5th Dec 2004

sisterphonetica — Mon, 06 Dec 2004 20:28:45 +0000

It was surprising that no-one started singing "Where Did you Get That Hat" when George Melly took the stage. It is Glasgow after all. Swagger and style in such an obviously elderly gent is a marvellous sight to behold, and Mr Melly has it in bucketloads. Oh yes. This reknowned jazz and blues singer, raconteur, art critic and writer really is a living legend. In his trademark garish striped suit, Melly takes a seat, removes his tiger striped cowboy hat and sings the blues. Booming and bassy, full of character (just like that white and red striped suit) his rendition of Old Rocking Chair really is the blues. He alludes to his wild heyday with a couple of mildly risque jokes, his fruity bass-baritone speaking voice every bit as unique as his taste in hats. The band, led by Digby Fairweather are a motley crew all very obviously having a whale of a time. Fairweather skips and hops about the stage directing the band like a hyperactive child at a wedding. He even manages to play his trumpet with a huge grin on his face. Melly tiptoes his way through some old vaudeville jazz numbers and rounds off his set with a rendition of the old favourite Sweet Georgia Brown, complete with comedy hand gestures.

The Big Chris Barber Band are a force to be reckoned with. Trombonist and band leader Barber and trumpeter Pat Halcox have been working together continuously for 50 years. And they still look like they're having the time of their lives. An eleven piece band of multi-instrumentalists, they specialise in Old Time New Orleans style Jazz, bringing a big band flavour with that great big wall of horns. However, there's more to them than initially meets the ear. Trombonist and arranger, Bob Hunt does a marvellous job reworking Duke Ellington's Black and Tan Fantasy into a magical mystery tour. Tony Carter on flute leads a small section of the band in a breathtaking rendition of Miles Davis' All Blues. The stand out track of the evening though is an improv duet between the bassist Vic Pitt and drummer Colin Miller, utilising every percussive surface on the stage, and a whole lot of laughs. The whole band reunite, ditch the amplification and blast the audience with everyone's favourite Dixieland number, Oh When The Saints! Lets hope the Saints keep their distance for a little longer.