Rufus Wainwright is in the country, touring his new album All Days Are Nights. The show he’s put together has a certain schizophrenic charm. The first part is a straight run-through of the album, with projected visuals, gloomy lighting, and Rufus in costume, wearing something that’s a cross between a black bridal gown and a pageboy’s suit. It’s an enormously theatrical set, showcasing a very strong collection of songs. The stark setting works well, I think, highlighting the simplicity of one man at the piano. In the second half, he’s more relaxed, chatting and telling stories, and even forgetting the words to old favourites like Cigarettes And Chocolate Milk, allowing the audience to cheerfully yell out reminders.
There’s a discussion to be had here about an artist’s relationship to his audience, and what they can and can’t get away with. Any fluffed lines in the carefully rehearsed and constructed first half of the show would have been unacceptable in the heightened atmosphere he had created. This sepulchural feel was extended to include a request that there be no applause until he had left the stage at the end. His walk-off was part of the act. This has raised some eyebrows and comments, and it was a request that was ignored at his show in Glasgow. I think it’s fair enough to ask for this, but there was a palpable sense of relief in the second half. It’s also interesting to note that his request that there be no photography in the first half was respected, but also taken as a tacit approval for the cameras to come out for the second half. Which they did, with a vengeance. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a theatre gig, and it was interesting to see that the stop and search approach for cameras that seemed to be the case a couple of years ago seems to have evaporated. Madame WDW was accompanying TLC and I, and was certainly making the most of the opportunity, taking photos and shooting video with her new Flip HD. But then, let’s face it. You can’t very well confiscate everyone’s phones at the door, and a couple of YouTube vids of Rufie fluffing the second verse of Cigarettes is hardly going to hurt his profile.
Separating new and old material quite so directly is bound to be a polarising approach, though, and Rufus Wainwright is not for everyone. A couple to the right of us couldn’t wait to get out of the theatre, tutting “I hope you won’t force me to watch that rubbish again.” I thought it was a bold approach that suited Rufus’ theatricality. This is, after all, a man that has written his own opera, which is not something you can say for your average singer-songwriter. Furthermore, performing All Days Are Nights in it’s entirety meant that there was none of the “here’s something off the new album” moment that’s normally a cue in a gig for a rush to the loos. He made the new material an event in and of itself, and by creating a church-like atmosphere, gave these songs of mourning and release a framework and context that they wouldn’t have had otherwise. But it did mean that the audience was slightly tentative in the second half, and Rufus had to remind us that it was OK to applaud – hence the quote that makes up my title. There was a genuine air of not knowing what to expect – which I think is unusual in a rock show these days. I’d imagine there was a certain set of expectations – after all, he was touring a bare-bones set of piano ballads based around the death of his mother. I think if you wanted show tunes and costumes you were an album too late.
On the whole, then, one of the more unusual gigs that I’ve attended recently – and one of the most memorable.
Here’s a taster, with my favourite song on the album thus far. This is Zebulon.
Yesterday, the popular link-forwarding site Reddit was asked to generate a list of songs to get you out of bed and moving on a Monday morning. The response was – shall we say enthusiastic? As I had some spare time, I decided to plug those results into Spotify, and ended up with a mix that will last you through most of the day.
It’s here, and it’s collaborative, so if there’s anything you think should be added, go right ahead. Usual Spotify caveats apply – no Beatles, but then that’s true of digital media in general. No Led Zep either, as far as I can tell. I’ve tried to keep the list to one song per artist, and I should stress these are not my choices, so don’t be raggin’ on me about the Phil Collins, mmmmkay? However, in general I think it’s a great list, and will work for any day you need to get your lazy ass out of bed and getting the day by the short hairs.
(If anyone doesn’t have Spotify yet, and would like an invite, hit me up in the comments. I have plenty to spare, and it’s a service that’s worth a look.)
Rage Against The Machine is the UK’s Christmas No. 1. That still feels like such a strange phrase to write. It outsold the record that most industry voices had assumed would be a shoo-in, Joe McElderry’s “The Climb”, by a cool 50,000 copies. This is A Very Good Thing, for a number of reasons.
Of course, there is the argument that both records are effectively making money for the same company, Sony. This misses the point. The X-Franchise has lost the war of hearts and minds pretty severely this year, and that is going to hurt the brand badly. The realisation that there is a large enough percentage of the population out there that are not just indifferent or unwilling to spend money on supporting the X-Franchise, but despise it actively enough to independently source another track, successfully campaign for it and buy it in sufficient numbers to make it the popular choice must be horrible for Cowell and crew.
This year has seen a bit of a sea change in the way music is offered and distributed to the public, and Rage’s victory shows that clearly. It was not available to buy in the shops, and had not been re-released by Sony. It was a song that went to number one because people wanted it there, and the fact that it has made it the top slot today could send marketing departments in record companies worldwide into a panicked spin. What do you do if your carefully concieved, hideously expensive campaign to push the next big thing to the top of the charts gets shoved aside because some scrote with a Facebook camplaign decides it’s time Mr. Blobby made a comeback?
This is the harbinger for absolutely massive change in the delivery of music, as it proves without a doubt that crowd-sourced PR works. It’s to Rage’s credit that they saw the groundswell and ran with it, zipping to London to record a live session on Radio FiveLive (“now, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you don’t want me to sing the line “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me to. That’s what you’re telling me. Just so I’m clear.”) that will go down as a classic comedy swear moment in radio history. They have announced that the profits from the single will go to Shelter. There’s a seperate campaign running that has already raised over half a million quid for the charity. I’ve dropped a fiver to that one. Seemed only fair. The download of the single cost me 29p from Amazon.
Rage have shown themselves to be connected with their audience, filled with humour, charity, compassion and fun. The X-Factor camp, on the other hand, have come across as curmudgeounly, whiny and increasingly self-centred. It seems to be all about little Joe’s dream of getting to number one, and anyone that buys the Rage single is stomping on that dream.
Aces. I bet people started buying “Dying In The Name Of” twice when they heard that tripe.
But the one sign that has cheered me most this Christmas is contained in the choice of song that the X-Franchise chose to launch little Joe’s career. Choosing a ballad for the grannies to swoon over is a decision that has stood Cowell and his band in good stead for several years, but it’s backfired pretty impressively in 2009. Let’s not forget, this campaigning idea began last year when Jon and Tracy Morter put Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up against Alexandra Burke’s Hallelujah. Then, the campaign was too fragmented, with a lot of punters choosing to buy the Leonard Cohen or Jeff Buckley versions of the song instead. But the point was that the song won. Hallelujah is an excellent choice for a Christmas No. 1 record, with the right balance of festive charm and bittersweet sentiment. Never Gonna Give you Up was a bit too joky a choice.
This year the choice was a lot clearer, and a lot simpler. The ballad was trite and turgid, and up against a song you can jump around to while swearing at the top of your voice. Barely a choice at all, really. But the result could have been very different.
One of the early choices for Joe’s first single was a cover of the journey track “Don’t Stop Believing”. A much stronger song, and one with the right balance of cheese and X-Franchise will-to-power. I think it would have won.
This shows us something rather enlightening. This is the point where Cowell has either lost his sure touch, shown he’s either fatally out of touch or has simply stopped caring about the singles-buying market. He’s facing a public that has clearly demonstrated that they do care about music and the charts very much, thank you, and are perfectly prepared to show that they have the will and the ability to take the wheels off the hit-making machine. It’s a lovely moment, and a great Christmas present for music fans across the country.
The only thing that could make it sweeter is for the franchise to release Joe’s version of “Don’t Stop Believing” as the next single. And for the Journey original to make it to number 1 instead.
We may be making progress. The Mandelson-backed shift in the government’s policy towards file-sharing (cut people off from the internet on a record company’s say-so) has attracted enough negative attention that the members of the Open Rights Group have snagged a meeting with his staff on Monday to put their point (internet access is too important to cut off on a record company’s say-so) across. This is because people who care about freedom of speech and expression, people like you and me, Readership, are willing to raise their voices to say no thanks, actually, this is not the sort of thing I voted you into office to do. Actually, remind me. Who voted you into office?
Aaaanyway. A couple of linkies for you. First and foremost, to the ORG petition on the issue. 3000 sigs so far, and they’re aiming to get 5 grand for Monday. Stick your moniker on this one, it’s important.
And I’m gonna repost a great piece on NRRF which makes all the right noises while simultaneously making a politician after a few column inches look like a complete knob. This HAS to be a good thing.
Many, many years ago, oh lordy, we must be talking at least 2004, my old boss offered me a lend of an album. “This looks like your sort of thing, Rob,” he said cryptically.
It was the first, self-titled Dresden Dolls album, and curse him for seeing the convolutions of my twisted little soul, he was right. It was skewed, wonky, unafraid of it’s influences, powerful, bold and brave. And I instantly fell in love with the stripy-stockinged loon that was Amanda Palmer. A clockwork Sally Bowles, a ticking song bomb. Greasepaint, corsets, minor chords and love songs to robot boys. What’s not to love?
Time moves on. The Dolls go into hiatus, and Amanda works on a solo album, Who Killed Amanda Palmer? Produced by the mighty Ben Folds, it focuses on her piano-driven pop sensibilities, and is a work of utter joy. She makes a couple of cheeky, funny promos skewering the pop world, low-budget gems that show off her penchant for dressing up and being a bit silly. I fall in love all over again.
And then the wheels come off. Her record company, Roadrunner, best known as a metal label, clearly have problems with her. And they start to interfere with the way she portrays herself, calling into question her approach, her songcraft.
Then they start calling her fat.
And here’s the vid in question, so you can see what the fuss is all about.
Bellygate is clearly the thin end of the wedge as far as Amanda’s concerned. She is now involved in a turf war with Roadrunner. At stake, nothing less than her career. She’s making the perfectly valid point that Roadrunner don’t get her, never did, and are not treating her with any kind of respect or even mild interest. She wants out, and she doesn’t care who knows it.
Here’s her latest offensive, a song written especially for her label, that really tells you everything you need to know about the conflict this far. It’s utterly typical of Amanda that she should take a situation that’s clearly causing her pain and misery, and turn it into entertainment. The sign of a great performer.
Here’s to the exit sign, Ms. Palmer.
Props to Rick for pointing me at this in the first place.
I’ve been following the shift from the traditional form of music retail to something a little more random access with great interest over the last couple of years. I’m an enthusiast of anything that’s not the HMV style music shed, where a depressingly small range of new release and back cat stock is kept at the front of the store at loss leader prices, while the interesting stuff is racked at the back, extortionatly priced.
With the disappearance of my favourite music chain Fopp last year (although I’m glad to see the brand’s reemerged in a form truer to it’s independent roots, with 7 shops in key locations. Not Reading though, darnit) I’ve found that my shopping for music is all online these days. I will frequently impulse buy using my iPhone, and snag interesting stuff from links and recommendations using my RSS feeds through favourite sites like WFMU’s Beware Of The Blog, Boing Boing and The Word (all on the blogroll to your right, Readership. Have a nose). Making the decision to dump all our CDs onto hard drive has had an impact on the way I purchase and listen to music too. I’m much more likely to listen to random, off-the-wall things (take for example, my 2008 song of the year, a sweet slice of poppy Georgian jazz) and am much happier listening to my library on shuffle than to discrete albums. I grab and listen as and when the mood takes me.
The exception to this rule is, of course, vinyl, which remains a pleasure bordering on the ritualistic and fetishistic, and the one truly joyful way to spend a rainy Sunday afternoon. Rekkids and booze. Ohhhh yeeeah. That little habit is neither cheap nor easy, but I will happily contradict my earlier argument in this case.
I should offer a couple of links to recent discoveries. First up, The Damnwells are offering up their new album One Last Century for free. It’s fine and classy pop and well worth a listen. The main man of the band, Alex Dezen also gives a great argument for why he’s chosen to share his music.
I have never worked so hard or put so much of myself into a collection of recorded songs. It is for just this reason that I want to give it away. To me it makes perfect sense. I just want people to hear this music, and I don’t want them to have to enter into some kind of contractual agreement with a third party to do so. Download the record, copy it and give it to your friends, lovers, and enemies. Whatever. It’s so hard these days just to get the actual music into people’s houses and cars, let alone their ears. Besides, I know everyone’s broke, maybe I can supply the soundtrack. So, I just want to give this music away because I want people to hear it.
You can’t say fairer than that, can you?
The other model to nod at is “Pay What You Like”, which I like for the way it instantly gives the music a sense of perceived value. It’s an experiment that can work very well, as people will frequently pay more for product than you’d think if you give them the choice. Look what that method did for Radiohead, to take the high-profile example. Or, to expand the argument, what it’s starting to do for innovative restauranteurs.
With that in mind, I present Sophie Madeleine’s album Love. Life. Ukulele. One of the sweetest things I’ve heard all year, with solid tunesmithery and a sharp sense of humour. Yours for a minimum donation of three and a half quid. At the very least, check out the single, The Stars.
Finally, for those of you enjoying the pure random thrills of Spotify (and if not, why not?) here’s my first playlist. Arty Gallic electronikie. I’ve made it collaborative, so feel free to add anything you think would suit. Merci, mon Lectorat, et appréciez la musique!
(Postscript, as it’s not out of closed beta yet, but I should point out that WFMU’s Free Music Archive is going to be positively head-expanding when it finally breaks. It won’t be for everyone, but if you have an eclectic ear, there’s enough here to keep you up for DAYS. More news on this later, and if I get any invites you’ll be the first to know. Meanwhile, the site has a couple of taster compos for your downloading pleasure, to give you an idea of whet to expect.)
Hey ho let’s go. Here, in no order of preference or alphabetical…ness… are the songs that most moved, inspired or cheered me during the last tumultuous twelvemonth. Complete with commentary, so I apologise for the length of this post. Just listen to the songs if you’d rather.
The Hold Steady: “Lord I’m Discouraged.”
“Stay Positive” is the most recent Hold Steady album, and an instant favourite. It was conspicuous by it’s absence on a lot of critics best of years lists – a criminal omission in my view. It’s an epic song cycle of Catholic mysticism, rock and roll hedonism and dirt poor street tribalism. A triumph, and on pretty constant replay here at X&HTowers. There are better tracks on the album (although the guitar solo is a thing of majestic beauty), but this is the one that gave this website it’s name, and it gets the nod for that.
AC/DC: “Rock and Roll Train”
Oh, yes, here’s the good stuff. “Black Ice” marked a return for one of my favourite bands after an eight year absence, and they did it in style by not changing a damn thing. Their irascible refusal to put the album on iTunes hacked me off a bit, but the album gets plenty of routing into the regular playlist, so they are forgived. And I’ve bought tickets to see them at Wembley this June, which is gonna be a great day out. “Rock And Roll Train” is the chosen track. As solid a statement of intent to head up an album as any I’ve heard in a while.
Bruce Springsteen: “Radio Nowhere”
“Magic” is a fantastic album, and seeing Broooce at the Emirates last summer was one of the highlights of the year for me. The three-hour show he pulled was non-stop energy, fire and thrills. I’m a rabid fan, and he lived up to every expectation. Like “Rock And Roll Train” above, “Radio Nowhere” tells you exactly where Bruce is heading from the first 20 seconds of the record. A new album coming this January, and rumours of him headlining Glasto this year are going to make me a very happy fanboy.
Elbow: “Grounds For Divorce.”
About flippin’ time that everyone caught up with me. Winning the Mercury Music Prize was one of those moments when the world made sense, and one of the most genuinely innovative bands on the planet finally got the recognition they deserve. “The Seldom-Seen Kid” is a record in widescreen. Stirring, moving and endlessly rewarding. A true highpoint.
I’ve chosen this track because, let’s face it, why would I not choose a track that starts with the line “I’ve been working on a cocktail called Grounds For Divorce”?
Eddie Vedder: “Rise”
This is from the soundtrack to Sean Penn’s Into The Wild, a film of rare restraint and beauty. The same could be said of Eddie Vedder’s accompanying music. Acoustic textures and Eddie’s trademark croon makes this album a late night favourite. “Rise” is the perfect example of the pleasures that the soundtrack offers.
Fleet Foxes: “White Winter Hymnal”
I played this album on Christmas Day. After Bruce doing “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town,” of course, which has been a family ritual for as long as I can remember. The Fleet Foxes album, an evocative rendition of crisp, cold winter days could become an addition to that tradition. White Winter Hymnal gets the nod here as the absolute distillation of that “Beach boys fronted by Jim Jones from My Morning Jacket in a church” vibe that permeates the album. Chilling in all the right ways.
Freezepop: “Less Talk More Rokk”
A Boing Boing find, and one of those perfect pop moments that just digs under the skin and hides in the hindbrain. I love the balance of cool female vocals and deranged electronic riffage. This track also appears on Guitar Hero 2, and I can imagine it tying your fingers in knots. That intro is harsh.
The Gutter Twins: “Idle Hands”
Mark Lanegan and Greg Dulli, both artists I admire greatly, got together this year as The Gutter Twins, and came up with one of the albums of the year. Epic, taut, vicious and oozing a bruised romanticism all at once. “Idle Hands” is the theme to the best horror movie never made.
Martha Wainwright: “Tower Of Song”
Time to get meta on your asses. I had the distinct pleasure to see both Leonard Cohen and Martha Wainwright live this year. The Martha gig was especially memorable, as it was an intimate gig at the Borders in Oxford St for winners of an online competition. It was a thirty minute acoustic set, which showcased her brilliant album “I Know You’re Married But I’ve Got Feelings Too” (one of the titles of the year too!) That album contains a track called “Tower Song”. This, though, is a cover of my favourite Cohen track for a Mojo covermount.
The cross-contextuality makes my head spin.
“Dig, Lazurus, Dig!!!“: Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds
Three exclamation points in a song is always worthy of comment. A big, fat swagger of a track from a big fat swagger of an album. Nick Cave has never been afraid to deal with issues of faith and filth, and he’s utterly confident on both on this record. I find I drop into a strut whenever this comes up on the playlist. Don’t be afraid to do the same.
“5:05“: Paul Westerberg
This track appeared as a free download earlier in the year, as a taster for a new album that PW was going to release under a similar model as Radiohead’s “In Rainbows”. As yet, that album is yet to appear, but the ramshackle charm of “5:05” makes me eager to see if the album can live up to the promise of the single. The title? It’s the duration of the track, of course…
“The Rip“: Portishead
Soundtracky noir and I have always got along especially well, so it’s no surprise that I’m a Portishead fan. But 3, their long-awaited third album took all the preconceptions about what they were, gave them a noogie, a spitclean and a long hot kiss and sent them off to do great things. I love the single, Machine Gun, the best use of syndrums since New Order’s Blue Monday, but The Rip is a movie in miniature, a transforming monster of a track that gets better with every listen.
“The Great Gig In The Sky“: Pink Floyd
Richard Wright’s death finally ended all speculation of a Pink Floyd reunion. It was a deeply poignant event, as he had been playing live again with Dave Gilmour, and was beginning to be regarded as the quiet still point at the heart of the Floyd. I offer up his greatest moment, the song he wrote that is the highwater mark of their greatest album. I always found it especially moving, and even more so now.
“Consoler Of The Lonely“: The Raconteurs
This came out of nowhere. Released within a fortnight of it’s completion, “Consolers Of The Lonely” is a monster of an album, like “Music From Big Pink” as played by Led Zeppelin. Jack White has never been on better high-hollerin’ form. Love it to bits. The first track tells you exactly what to expect. Incidentally, the first verse describes the low points of my mental and physical state over this year pretty accurately. Another reason I relate so strongly to it, I guess…
“I’m Gonna DJ“: REM
2008 saw my Georgia boys finally step up and deliver the album they’d promised for the past decade. A tight, sharp, bright shot of sunshine, Accelerate included a live favourite that was part of the mythos to such an extent that lyrics from it had featured on official tour t-shirts. It’s great to see it finally on record, cos it’s a stomping beast. Music will provide the light. You cannot resist.
“Please Read The Letter” – Alison Krauss and Robert Plant
“Raising Sand” is a spare, intimate and subtle album that feels like an intrusion into a delicate, careful courtship. Planty calms the wailing loverman act, tempering his urgent heat in the face of Alison Krauss’ sweet ice-cream coolness. “Please Read The Letter” is the track that does it for me, a tale of yearning, loss and sacrifice that fills me with emotions that I cannot quite name.
“Inní Mér Syngur Vitleysingur“: Sigur Rós
One of my favourite bands and one that I was lucky enough to see live this year, at the Westminster Methodist Hall. At this point in their career, they have learned that melancholy can only get you so far. They lightened up, and started to sing and dance. With a track as infectious as this, you can only join in. Even if you don’t speak Icelandic.
Oh, and one of the weirdest points of the year – Sigur Ros interviewed on More4 News about the collapse of the Icelandic banking system. A true WTF moment.
“I Feel Alright“: Steve Earle
The final season of The Wire was the major TV event of the year for me, and the soundtrack to that show, “… And All The Pieces Matter” is a perfect counterpart. This Steve Earle track, that played over the end of the final episode of season 4, sums up the show for me. Bitter, beaten, yet eternally hopeful in the face of a cruel and arbitrary universe that seems to delight in punishing you for doing the right thing. And it’s said Americans don’t do irony…
“That’s Not My Name“: The Ting Tings
I heard this for the first time on Jonathon Ross’ show, and instantly had that spinal zap-chill that told me it would be a phenomenal hit. Feminist anthem, the 21st century’s own Clapping Song (a debt that Katie and Jules acknowledged by having a double dutch crew on stage with them at Reading), an earworm of the highest order. It’s a track that polarises people, but I bloody love it.
The random one. Not even sure where I heard this first, but this dose of Georgian jazz-pop gets my tag as Song Of The Year. Dating back to the late 60’s, it starts as a choral exercise of rare medieval power, before morphing into a finger-popping bounce groove that just grows and grows. It’s one of the reasons I love random surfing for music, and shuffle remains my playback mode of choice. Quite simply, I love it when music surprises me, and that’s something that every song I’ve featured here has done.
I hope you approve of my choices. Here’s to more of the same this year!
Guess it had to happen. Justin of the mighty MP3 streaming service Muxtape has finally called it a day after months of pointless wrangling, negotiations and lobbying with record companies and the RIAA. Such a shame. It was a great service for radio streaming, with a clean, sharp interface and a musically literate community that never ceased to come up with nice surprises. I didn’t tend to build many mixes myself, partially as I don’t have the encyclopaedic music collections of a lot of the good Muxers, and partially cos most of my music tends to be AAC rather than MP3.
I’ve played around with Mixwit for a while (as you can see in one of the earliest posts to X&HT last month) but it can be a bit glitchy. Last.fm is a favourite now and on the iPhone was an absolute gem up until the 2.1 update broke it. Seriously, it’s a way of carrying the whole of your music collection around with you without needing a big storage device. I’ve just started playing with Blip.fm, which seems like a lot of fun. Kind of like Twitter for music. And in fact, you can hook it into Twitter and your Last.fm feed, so you can harangue your followers with your suspect musical tastes. Which sounds like a winner to me. Radio Conojito. Coming in your ears.