the correct use of soap - magazine

there is something highly claustrophobic about the new wave, post-punk movement; after all the social values against which punk railed, perhaps the only ones brave enough to show the ugly side (despite the condemnation of punk as nihilistic and yobbish, who else has had the guts to reveal the true exploitative nature of the royal family except the sex pistols?), remain seemingly as permanent and indestructible as ever even today thirty years later. for me its encapsulated in the title to magazine's third album (1980) - why does it matter if there is a correct use for soap? who defines what is the correct and incorrect way? should we care, I think so! so whilst you are dreaming up a myriad incorrect uses for soap and revelling in that remaining freedom, allow Howard Deveto (singing), John McGeoch (guitars), Barry Adamson (bass), Dave Formula (keyboards) and John Doyal (drums) to soundtrack such irreverent musings with their brand of nervy, anxiety ridden collection. And does the anxiety seep into everything here! It's a new decade but seemingly there is nothing to celebrate, only the misguided attraction towards being in love which is anything but joyful ('I want to burn again') or based on irrational, negative impulses ('Because you're frightened.') "I'm a party' alludes to the least amount of fun you might have at a party ever - 'a song from under the floorboards' poignantly details the feelings of those who cannot fit in and 'model worker' reveals why because it's about having to fit in with demands of others ("I just want to know while the revolution lasts, will it enable me to swallow broken glass?") Yet despite the disillusion felt, this album avoids drowning in gloom retaining a funky, jaunty edge, with Deveto's often flat, slightly cynical voice the most obvious manifestation of doubt. evident to are all the hallmarks which would eventually be abused throughout the 80s (saxophones, female backing singers, synthesisers) but here are used sparingly to create effect rather than swamp. as relevant today for anyone who feels all at sea in the modern world...

The Radio 1 Sessions Vol 2 1984-1985 - the associates

In which Billy Mackenzie attempts to re-write Associates history. Well it was probably not his intention but launching into the speedy delivery of Associates' classics minus Alan Rankine offers a very different prospect to the originals, conveying a vague, if not quite there, sense of 'let's get these over and done with.' 'Message Oblique Speech' in particular is twisted into some almost semblance of straight forward (if murky) guitar pop without the strange undercurrents of sound created on 'Fourth Drawer Down' and 'Kites' lacks the delicate sonic flourishes of the 39 Lyon Street version, its gentleness butchered by an un-sympathetic guitar. However, the insouciance with which Billy's voice soars and spins and meanders around with the melody keeps his performance compelling as always on this second volume of songs culled from the Radio 1 archives. So here are sessions for Richard Skinner, Janice Long, Saturday Live and Phil Kennedy. More successful is a suitably melancholic version of traditional weepy 'The Crying Game' where the beauty is all in voice and unobtrusive piano, and a low key 'Dogs in the Wild' which makes it into a kind of jazz version somehow working and likewise 'Gloomy Sunday' retains an incongruously uptempo backing along with a calmer, if still dramatic, vocal. I find the cover of 'Heart of Glass' unfortunately pedestrian. 'Obsession Magnificent' is better, Billy sounding re-energised and begging the question what happened to it? The equally powerful 'Give' would eventually turn up on Wild and Lonely as 'Something's got to give' and hearing it in its earlier form breathes life into what would be trampled into submission by lacklustre production (even if the production here is not the best either). And although I am not a fan of 'Take me to the girl' it endears with its softly spoken introduction from Billy (suggesting he could have had a fantastic career as a Butlins entertainer if that had floated his boat... I'M JOKING) and the casual delivery of the song itself, although the synths in the background spoil things by sounding cheap and nasty. The last three songs also appear on 'Perhaps' in a very similar guise, it might be my ears but I couldn't discern much difference to the finished article except 'Breakfast' sounds somewhat richer, slightly more lavish. But as I say that might just be my ears.

the warp of pure fun - paul haig

Whilst the 60s and the 70s are usually deemed revolutionary times for music, the poor 80s are usually remembered in the terms of the dross that clogged up the charts. Oh there has been a reconsideration of the early part of the decade when songs like 'party fears two' could ride high in the charts and the 'New Pop' seemed to offer a new hope for literate, melodic and fabulously camp pop that would engender some delight in watching re-runs of Top of the Pops. But why bother when you know you will only get Tiffany, Debbie Gibson, Frankie goes to Hollywood or the hideous clones peddled by S/A/W and their ilk? My archaeology into 80s music (following links and connections) however has peeled back the layers to reveal that just below the surface of the glossy horror of the charts is an entirely different picture of artists sticking to their guns and experimenting the sounds in their heads without finding any glory or respectability from the majority of the record buying public, despite critical acclaim. Such is Paul Haig, formerly of the pneumatic Josef K, and about to release his tenth album. Leaving behind the spiky guitars and urgent vocals that characterised the Ks, Paul Haig has (according to my 'net researches) since dabbled in swing, funk, electronica and rock. There is also the collaboration with Billy Mackenzie (Memory Palace) uncovering a vision between the two men to want to swing precariously between genres, not labelling themselves as purveyors of crowd pleasing similarity. I started with 'The Warp of Pure Fun' purely on the subjective connection with the other Associate, Alan Rankine, who helped produce most of the tracks here and contributed guitars and keyboards. Although recorded in the mid 80s the album was never released until much later; like Billy Mackenzie, Paul Haig seems to have suffered from poor relations with his labels.

Enough of the history, which is probably very poorly expressed anyway! Considering my less than positive views of the mid 80s music - partly conditioned by a fear of descending into nostalgia - I approached with trepidation. But I found much to enjoy even if my powers of description are limited at the moment. Haig's voice is not the most romantic, but is dramatic and although it seems he might overpower the lighter arrangements, such as on 'One lifetime away', when the music builds to meet him it creates a pleasing juxtaposition. It cannot be said that you completely escape the typical 80s touches, including (horror of horrors) sax, overwrought female backing and those strange synth noises that they loved so much then, but generally it fulfils what I increasingly appreciate in pop music, conveying an intelligence and flamboyance without losing sight of the ephemeral joys pop brings, so not too clever by half to be horribly ironic and destroy whatever beauty and meaning it had. Most compelling is 'Endless Song' which I am currently playing to death because its combination of squalling guitar, minimal synth and Haig's pronouncements sends me into raptures for the unknown reason that it just does. How can you explain these things? Anyway, other good things come in the shape of 'The only truth' where Haig is helped by Bernard Sumner from New Order and others, and 'Sense of fun' where some poor sucker is lambasted for not having one (perhaps not so poor if directed at the record label ha ha). One to convince those who feel that the 1980s have nothing to offer, along with 'Sulk' and 'Metamatic'.

interview with Alan Rankine, Resonance FM Tuesday 11 March 2008

Personally I had never heard of Resonance FM and probably never would have had it not been for a message on the Associates list that I belong to telling of an interview with the great Alan Rankine! Resonance FM itself appears to be one of those strange arty type things that Bourdieu would have a field day with because god only knows who it caters for. When I dutifully turned on at 7.45 just prior to Alan Rankine's interview at 8pm I was greeted with the sound of wolves howling and then some guy joined in with them on the guitar. Apparently he records his songs live with the animals around him. It was surreal but I could not help but think what it would have sounded like if Billy Mackenzie had ever done a duet with his whippets in tow! Whilst the interview with Alan Rankine was far less surreal, it was great to have the Associates' history from the man himself. Probably having nothing to lose, Alan seemed to have a refreshing honesty - lots of people in the Associates career history were 'shits' and talked about their drug taking without managing to glorify it in any shape or form, unless panic attacks in hospital are appealing! I guess if you are used to Heat magazine revelations there will be nothing new here but not having tracked down a copy of Tom Doyle's book, or sure that I want to, it was interesting to hear the band's trajectory from low budget cabaret stars, to naive young men agog in the brutal English capital full of shifty record company types, beating them at their own game only to freeze at the moment of stardom and reach a point of no return. Although heavy on the history there were enough quirky personal details to bring to life the relationship that the two men must have shared (along with Michael Dempsey and John Murphy who were treated at least by Alan and Billy as members of the Associates) having no money, experimenting at weird times of night, looking for kindred spirits who shared their sense of music and mischief. It is not surprising the pressure got to them and sometimes it seems difficult to enjoy the intensity of Sulk because it signals the beginning of the end. Poignant also to hear Alan Rankine speak of Billy Mackenzie's suicide, but also with warmth from his memories of a man who spent many hours perfecting his appearance before going out but who was also happy to muck out his whippets and be covered in dog shit. And therein lies the surreal world of the Associates of which we can only have tiny glimpses but it helps to flesh out the question when listening to Sulk etc, 'who would have the balls to make this?'

beat pyramid - these new puritans

this
ALBUM pulls me back in
to present times with its irresis-
table meld of intense beats, shouty voc
als and obsession with numbers a theme whi
ch ties this relatively short collection together. It g
oes or even harks back to when bands announced their
modus operendi in no uncertain terms to fuck with the min
ds of their unexpecting public - here for instance despite the ap
parent volume of songs the bulk is killer tunes with the odd filler. but
it does not suffer for it when the actual contents are so compelling. 'Num
erology (aka numbers)' marries a catchy riff with an interesting question that
is actually answered (hooray, how many songs bug you with their unanswered q
uestions?). Although tied to the new wave heritage I hear shades of rap here, even
hot chip in the wobbly synths and young tremble / cocksure certainty of the singer's vo
ice which takes the mash up further than a mere exercise in 'how many indie bands can you
name.' 'Swords of truth' possibly even references Star Wars ('strike me down') but we'll not hold
that against them, neither that they have already become so achingly trendy that they have been as
ked to provide aural backdrop for a fashion show - instead just enjoy the twitchy sound of 'swords of
truth' and '£4' which runs the bizarre lyric by you repeatedly 'four of your pounds' until it seems quite nor
mal and enjoy the fact that they can create musical soundscapes far better than I can create a pyramid of words (because blogger won't let me)

freaks - pulp

Pulp are mostly famous for their brillantly observed paeons to the marginalised, the outsiders who drift along on society's margins wryly looking in and revelling in the irony that being 'normal' is either overrated or as strange as the freaks are accused of being. Such traits were formed early, however the dry humour which characterises albums such as 'His and hers' and 'different class' appears to have been a later addition. Whatever humour there may be is buried deep in 'freaks.' Take the first song 'fairground.' Here the fun usually associated with eating too many sweets and candy floss and feeling sick after going on the rides and shooting at silly plastic ducks in return for an evil incarnation of zippy in a red dressing gown is tainted with a hideous hysteria, reminiscent of those fears that enabled Stephen King to create an evil clown (It) and convinced fellow Sheffielders Human League to sing about the 'circus of death.' Russell Senior intones in his flat voice the horrors of the specimens in jars he has dragged his sister to see (a dog with two heads) whilst Jarvis and the rest of the band shriek madly in the background. This is 1980s Pulp, a far remove from their shiny 90s incarnation. Tales of madness, malfunctioning relationships, melancholy and claustrophobia, exploitation and dismay abound. Jarvis alternates between Scott Walker type crooning ('I want you', 'they suffocate at night', 'don't you know'), cold and distant ('master of the universe'), frightened/frightening ('I'm being followed home' / the 'never-ending story') and plaintive ('there's no emotion', 'life must be so wonderful'), his knack with a lyric already evident in the sketches he draws. For the most part the music serves to echo the narratives that are built through the songs, such as 'being followed home' which reaches a crescendo as the narrator is chased down a 'cobbled street' that stinks of piss and fish (you have to love Jarvis for the incidental details he furnishes us with), or the simplicity of slide guitar and keyboards for the ballads like 'don't you know' which captures its fragile beauty perfectly. 'The never-ending story' is the total converse of the soft 80s pop-porn of Limahl and nameless female singer, tribal rhythms bizarrely reminiscent of the Rite of Spring and so sounding completely unlike anything else you can imagine, rising and falling with the tale of a (surprise) malfunctioning relationship where the male protagonist is treated / treating with utter contempt. After the intensity 'Freaks' is closed with another tender ballad, even if the sentiment is anything but tender - 'Festering in silence, growing in the dark... and this they saw as love' Oh dear love is evidently a tragic subject in Pulp land if you haven't already noticed here and for ever after. But it has a gloomy reality about it - 'she met his wishes, he found that he had changed his mind' and it is difficult not to be affected by Jarvis' wounded howling as the song winds to a close, backed by squalling violin and a gentle lullaby-like plod. Overall its a schizophrenic album, seemingly unsure what to do with itself and terribly traumatised as a result, but somehow endearing in its desperation.

kiss me kiss me kiss me - the cure

from the first throbbing chords and howling guitars 'kiss me kiss me kiss me' sets my nerves on edge; this 'kiss' is not nice and pleasant and soft and warm, its intense and hungry and draining and demanding your concentration, near drowning you in despair one minute, bringing you to intense highs the next. its a schizophrenic masterpiece, always too much and not nearly enough, the closest description of obsession and torment as maybe committed to music; smith sings 'I never wanted any of this I wish you were dead' and you wonder what you have let yourself in for.

a delight definitely despite the less than joyful titles such as 'torture', 'if only tonight we could sleep' and 'the snakepit'. after the hate of 'kiss', 'catch' is laconic and wistful. 'torture' is all melodrama, gothic bass and high chiming melodies whilst Robert Smith sings like a Poe story - but despite the relentless gloom ('hanging like this, like a vampire bat') the melody is ridiculously catchy and I even find myself humming along to the synthetic horn section (?) around the 3 minute mark which for me has to be one of the most sublime moments in music as Smith sings desperately about his unknown torture. it seems wrong though to be entertained by someone's suffering but isn't that the essence of pop music? and why such singers as Mary J Bilge continue to be popular because their life is a soap opera? i would like to think that the cure play on that morbidity if only through the sheer lengths they seem to go to depict the darker sides of the human psyche. 'if only tonight...' has an eastern flavour, a haunting reminder of the (stereotypical) exotic-ness of the Orient with its mystery and melancholy in dark eyes. 'Why can't I be you?' along with 'just like heaven' are perfect pop songs, a headrush of love subverted in some way either through a slightly unhinged desire to submerge into someone else ('I'll hug you to death') or doomed love ('I found myself alone, alone alone, upon a raging sea, which stole the only girl I loved and drowned her deep inside of me'). 'How beautiful you are' has to be the most vivid song I heard about the loss of faith in human nature so starkly detailed in narrative form and startling beginning 'you want to know why I hate you, well I'll try and explain.' the romance created by the words, rustic violin and piano, only serves to bring the world crashing down further, we feel the narrator's crushing reality check as though it were our own.

'the snakepit' is a far less pleasant experience musically, underneath the dirge guitars there is tune seeking to escape but gets lost in the wreaths of echo. 'all i want' sounds raw, guitars slicing through the fragile synths and Robert Smith doing his best to unsettle us with proclaiming tonight 'he's feeling like an animal' and all he wants is to 'hold you like a dog.' Lucky girl! There is clearly more fun times to be had however in the Cure camp as 'hot hot hot!!!' attests; I could even push the boat out and say its funky, a way to sneak the cure into the disco, as could 'the perfect girl' which rambles along prettily. I admit here the appeal of Robert Smith's voice is its indulgent sound, if that makes any sense at all! 'Icing sugar' is even bizarre, a rollicking rhythm built on a high bass line and - of all things - a saxophone moaning away in the near distance (they get everywhere). it ends with 'fight' a pugilistic call to arms, at turns stodgy and repetitive, yet curiously compelling. I have given up trying to understand why I am drawn to particular songs over others ('a thousand hours' and 'shiver and shake' pass me by for instance) yet here I like the chord changes that sound vaguely eastern, conjuring up images of ancient mongol warriors like Attila the Hun. i think he would have agreed with the sentiment 'never give in' at any rate.

The back room - The Editors

Humankind has spent quite a few of its thousand years or whatever on earth devising little boxes to organise the word into. Whether or not these boxes help us to understand it better or simply serve to create deviseness , cliques and misery is not a question to easily answer. I for one despise the concept although I spend a lot of my life organising it into neat little lists which I can then feel miserable at not achieving and I suppose its the same with boxes, we can organise everything to a certain point before we realise there is always something which will not fit. And then they or it are made to feel miserable. Anyway in a spirit of deviousness I present 10 reasons to love this album and 10 reasons to set fire to it and dance around its ashes. Whether I mean them all or not is my little secret.

Here with ten reasons to love this album:

1. 'Munich.' Enigmatic song title but relatively straightforward ditty about the need for sensitivity because "people are fragile things". It also amounts to the closest they get to a jibe - "you should know by now, be careful what you put them through" - although of course singer Tom is far too earnest for it to sound too nasty. Sage advice for everyone who breathes.

2. You like jangly indie guitars? Great, so do the Editors! You like mostly gentle songs discussing love, life, relationships and the misery of living in a Midlands town (with the worst railway station in the world)? Hooray, you might find solace in its atmospheres created.

3. The Editors aim to be EPIC in their endeavours, which results in some anthemic tunes. But not anthemic in the Oasis-beered-up-hug-your-drunk-mate kind of manner, oh no, in a manner that is far more sedate, more about grandeur, reaching for the stars rather than for the pint glass. In the words of 'Camera' - "you fall from grace, but fall with such grace."

4. If you enjoy songs which collide melancholia with hopefulness you may very well enjoy these.

5. There are moments of frenetic rush amidst the calm, "All Sparks" echoing the sentiment that the subject is rushing to their doom all too soon as the embers fall from their dying cigarette whilst "Fingers in the factories" sees a level of desperation kept under wraps until that point but which rails against the tediousness of a life we are expected to be thankful for.

6. "Bullets" is majestic, its repeated refrain 'You don't need this disease" conveying a real sense of urgency over guitars spiralling heavenward.

7. There are no saxophone solos.

8. There is a pleasing flow to the arrangement of the songs, for all the hits of intensity from songs such as 'Lights' and 'Munich' and 'Blood', we are seduced into calm with "Fall' and "Open your arms".

9. "Blood" is not only a viscous scarlet material but the name of one of the best songs here, an energetic romp about someone living in dubious circumstances: "you're with the red lights, your side of town." Yikes, sounds familiar...

10. After taking your heart and subjecting it to various lashes, highs and lows, they have the wit to end on a note of serenity with "Distance" which is quite spectacular. Lulled by tender voice and gentle guitar we feel a fulfilling end to the listening experience.

Alright that was actually harder than I thought. Here then, are ten reasons to light this album with one of the life sparks and watch it burn, dancing and laughing, until a pile of pathetic ashes.

1. There are some real highlights, however as a whole it gets a bit samey. This is particularly the fault of the guitar which does not radically alter its sound throughout and maintains the same jangly monotony.

2. Like Coldplay, Embrace, and all those dour serious bands, earnestness gets a bit dull after a while. And who are the Editors to keep preaching to all these people? It seems to be a catalogue of telling people off - treat people better, stop being self-destructive, blah blah

3. Why is Munich called Munich? There seems to be no explanation as to why its named after the German city and its annoying me. A justifiable reason to want to burn it.

4. On a good day, the ballads sound tender and warm. On a bad day, they just sound dirgey.

5. Its pleasant but that can be pretty damning. There is little mystery. Its easy to hear what they sing about (although I swear 'Lights' begins with 'I still love the lino baby'), all the songs have recognisable verse chorus structure. Its hardly challenging or creating any provocation.

6. There are loads of indie bands like this, take your pick. Do we really need another? Especially since the Editors do not necessarily bring a new perspective to the themes considered here.

7. They might be a good live band, and the live atmosphere might enable some of the more tedious songs to breathe, become more lovely, but I have not been able to find out, humph.

8. It makes you long for something more experimental. It wears its influences and intentions too much on its sleeve and, although such honesty is endearing, you cannot imagine them coming up with anything different (and the second album is pretty similar). Perhaps a kazoo or a glockenspiel would have livened things up a bit?

9. The songs are pretty enough but as I am finding after returning to this album after some prolonged absence, I am finding it hard to recapture the reason why I felt attracted to this album in the first place. The magic seems to have gone.

10. Because it's fun to burn things.