A secret wish - Propaganda

If pop was always this obscene and this beautiful, a discovery that only you've made crawling into the myriad sounds conjured up by the machines, selling your soul to the statuesque alabaster carved of English and German uniting in the hands of megalomania of sound...  power force motion drive propels its forward on wings of fairlight constructions, is it a sense of humour or wilful perversity that drops a jazz solo for goodness sake into this teutonic wilderness, lives and loves are lost in the blink of an eye, you murdered love 'I was the witness but now I'm the judge... I am the judge!  And I judge this to be more than a guilty pleasure, dripping in the decadence of the 80s mania for pop - dance away the shoulder pads and celebrate the melancholy redolent under mascara tinged skies.  Sorry for laughing but how can you turn a hyper-mania indie dirge legend to a synth drenched industrial pop dirge only a genius would even have the lunacy to attempt it but to pull it off... there is magic here in spades, the most unlikely spaces thrill with glitter; Jewel the sound of cheese graters if they could sing, its counterpart Duel so ludicrously conventional you have to wonder... 'Frozen faces can always melt' so throw away those assumptions now!  Its sooooo 80s but can you forgive just a teeny bit for the marvellous pomposity of it all, feel the drama as everything AND the kitchen sink is flung in (somewhere even synth pop supremo David Sylvian lurks before he turned his back on artifice and reclaimed his soul).  Selling my soul, selling my soul, never look back (goodbye the modern age with your dreary copyists)... it has the super shiny sheen of gloss Trevor Horn's sticky fingers by association even if he was too taken by the sleaze of Frankie and the hyperbole of Morley taints it still but a synth pop treat best consumed vociferously.

'There you stand making my life possible' - The music of David Sylvian

If you told me a few months ago that I would be listening to music which seems to be inspired by those who live in the endless deserts grassy savannahs and tangled forests away from the superficiality of the western world, the silence in-between the puzzle of existence, isolated communities, ambient jazz noodlings and mystical spiritualism then I probably would have laughed for a long and hysterical moment.  Needless to say my changed has been changed from contact with the long and interesting career of David Sylvian.  Prior to recent David Sylvian had existed for me in that periphery in the mind rarely explored, a name with such connotations attached as world music, difficult, obscure, a pretentious and aloof chap (also mixed up with David Byrne) but with little actual meaning.  So when the name becomes something real it is hard to resist the category being dragged up, assumptions and all, to be re-fashioned into something new and exciting.  So the category David Sylvian now means a rich complexity of sound, the only singer I can give time to for ambient jazz (yes really) David Sylvian I have to hand it to him.  He has kept me going in the times when I felt down, the rich melancholic timbre of his voice at once soothing and troubling, the gentle hush of twilight in an over-stimulated world.  Like Billy Mackenzie he underwent something of a dramatic change from a very mannered, (if not as hysterical as Billy M), approach to singing, finding and settling in with his voice over a number of years, along with the relentless desire to experiment with music and seeming to push himself into new territory with each new release.  The one thing holding it all together is his voice, familiar, easing gently into more adventurous soundscapes.

Perversely I started with the album which is considered to be the most difficult to listen to - Blemish - written during the break-up of Sylvian's marriage and completed in a relatively short time.  Although the accompanying instrumentals were stark (at times the scratching of a guitar is the only embellishment) and the songs at times could be accused of being rambling, I was surprised how quickly I took to the album.  Particularly compelling were the sentiments explored - 'How little we need to be happy' and 'The heart knows better' really struck a chord and filled me with confidence that experimental music does not have to be a chore or a pose but can be enjoyed.  

Going back in time Brilliant Trees was Sylvian's first solo album after the split with Japan, interesting in that it sounds almost nothing like his previous work (see the Dolphin Brothers Catch the Fall for a more obvious take on what Japan might have sounded like had they not imploded) but explores different musical textures including jazz (shudder) and acoustic.  It could be a mess but musically its coherent and held together by its themes of understanding your place in the world (inspired by reading Sartre's Nausea which accentuates the desire of intellectual pretensions so missing in some music).  'Pulling punches' opens the collection in an exhilarating way, perhaps the most upbeat number, followed by 'Red Guitar' which is my absolute favourite even despite the obvious jazz influenced piano, regarded rather disgustingly by a friend of mine, which only endeared it to me more.  More introspective are 'Nostalgia' and 'Brilliant Trees' and no less wonderful for it.

Everything and nothing (with its plaintive cover) is a quick way to come up to speed with the work of Sylvian, an anthology of his work whilst with Virgin records, including the albums Dead Bees on a cake and Secrets of the beehive as well as various rarities and singles that have not made it onto previous albums.  It also includes the glorious 'Pop Song' which Sylvian apparently wrote in response to being asked to do something more commercial... as you can imagine it is anything but, merging discordant chords with grumbling lyrics and for the possessor of such an emotion-filled voice it emerges that it is possible for Sylvian to sound utterly blank.  A superb two fingers to the charts (needless to say it didn't get anywhere but are we surprised?)  'Bamboo Houses' continues the Eastern influences so explicit in Japan's music and it is the diversity of the styles covered that so intrigues; Sylvian has the intelligence to surround himself with excellent musicians that are as eager to deconstruct sound as he is.

Despite the power of his voice, the largely instrumental albums that Sylvian has released are not disappointing in that they lack which is so appealing.  Gone to Earth contains some of the most evocative music I have ever heard, conjuring up hidden idylls in their titles as well as the soundscapes created; 'A Bird of Prey vanishes into a bright blue cloudless sky' and 'Sunlight seen through towering trees' leave no mystery as to the atmospheres they wish to create in the imagination.  This is the second half of the album, the first half is concerned with songs that are just as beautiful, even the lengthy 'Wave' (over nine minutes) does not outstay its welcome and (excuse the terrible analogy) ebbs and flows with Sylvian's emotional lyrics, very compelling.  'Taking the veil' is much gentler yet throbs with the same power.  It is purely an emotional engagement, I find myself at a loss exactly how to articulate the impact... the same too with Alchemy: An Index of possibilities which brings together other instrumentals, the short 'Words with the Shaman, Pt 2: Incantation' (featuring lively percussion from Steve Jansen) is gripping, impossible to guess exactly where all the sounds come from (real or taped) but of this earth.  It is grounded, evocative of the difference to be discovered when conventional approaches are abandoned.  It is a constant; Japan were playing with difference, even if it seems submerged under style, and Sylvian to me represents the ceaseless roaming of an unsettled soul, seeking for constancy, perhaps not finding (or wishing) to find it...

Catch the fall - the Dolphin Brothers

Having become worryingly addicted to David Sylvian in the interim of writing my last blog post (but more about that later) I found this little gem of an 80s album (1987 to be precise) lurking on itunes accessible through one of those handy little collections that itunes cunningly puts together to tempt you to buy more stuff having, as it does, a tenuous connection to some loved performer (in this case Japan).  In this case the connection is not so tenuous as the Dolphin Brothers are bona fide former members of Japan, Steve Jansen (brother of David Sylvian, clatterer of drums) and Richard Barbieri (wielder of synth) sounding here very much like Japan 'gone commercial', Jansen even sings spookily like his big brother.  In many ways this album is atrocious, it has that forgettable late 80s production sheen, world music pretensions, too many instruments, obligatory female backing singers but with enough of a smattering of the stuff that made Japan so brilliant, lurking there just beneath the surface... but lacking (really) whatever made them so compelling (also see John Foxx's and the Associates' work around this time which is enough to knock any hero from their pedestal).  However there is something endearing about how from the wreckage of a band implosion comes offerings that are not quite but almost...  so 'Catch the Fall' floats into consciousness pleasantly enough, 'Shining' wears its POP pretensions all over its sugary saturated sleeves... theres some wonky guitar wriggling through 'Second Sight' ... then I realise that Jansen and Barbieri are standing by some trees, ahem in a very similar (arty) manner to Sylvian on 'Brilliant Trees' a bit too convenient and the pink filter looks naff... well you get the idea I suppose, the guitars get a little bit more bombastic on 'Real Life real answers' but this is a mostly inoffensive affair.  'Pushing the River' ends on a positive if melancholic note, despite its lightweight sound at strange variance to the attempt at portentiousness it has one of those chord changes that weaves it's magic and invites surrender... one of those magical moments that exists in the space between voice, chord, instrument when there's a pause, Steven Jansen sings "I'd die for you" and the music swells to meet him as the lump rises in the throat... and you realise that even trifling obscure 80s music can have that impact and pretentiousness evaporates.

obscure alternatives - japan

the early incarnation of japan was inspired by the de reigeur roxy music, david bowie and new york dolls, 'obscure alternatives' an apt title being largely ignored by the UK music press (so obscure) as being derided for their outmoded approach to music in the light of post-punk and new wave (so alternative). it rather goes against that quaint British idea that we like to champion the underdog. so there is a certain misery pervading japan's otherwise brimful of youthful enthusiasm and defiance throughout (not least on the cover where they stare dolefully), echoed in titles 'sometimes i feel so low' and 'deviation' and subject matter which deals with colonialism (Rhodesia), as well as more traditional subjects. it is not hard to imagine why the band decided on a complete overhaul in time for their next album (Quiet life) however it is not so bad, instrumental 'The Tenant' revealing a calm and quiet beauty that exists alongside the claustrophobia.

the very best of... japan

the musical journey continues albeit meandering down another path which appears to be sign posted 'new romantic' but then has been hastily scribbled out by another hand rather crudely. ah Japan, until today only a dimly acknowledged existence in my mind but from today an essential part of a late 70s, early 80s musical odyssey. and yes you have to be quick as japan had a pretty short shelf life, like the associates imploding at the height of their chart success, a long-winded climb which saw many fits and start, break-ups and changes of direction from glam rock poseurs to new romantic visionaries. japan are also credited with producing one of the most oddest chart hits in 'ghosts', its anxious vocals laid over seemingly random, atonal synth creations (like someone messing in the studio) but strangely compelling as these songs always are. 'ghosts' kicks off this retrospective which largely ignores the glam rock beginnings and starts from third album 'quiet life' where they ditched this direction and set off on a far more melodic path augmented with synths, brass, sax, but as opposed to their peers (like Ultravox for instance) setting it off on a creative tangent towards the East. i would suggest that whilst every CD insert wishes to claim some kind of superiority for every single outsider 80s band in inspiring a myriad copyists, Japan is the only band so far where I can hear the obvious. 'Quiet life' for instance resonates with staccato guitar, chundering synth and David Sylvian's rich, languorous, if drawling, voice, immediately showing where Duran Duran got most (if not all) their inspiration from - 'girls on film' is clearly 'quiet life' recycled and re-processed. sure there are also references in the music, most obvious to me from roxy music (sometimes sylvian sounds uncannily like bryan ferry) and probably david bowie as well since every band in this period seems to owe a debt to Bowie (one day I might listen to him to find out how). a glance at the videos on Youtube also shows why japan are credited with the 'new romantic' tag, they are all bouffant hair, lipgloss, eyeliner and quiet flamboyance. apparently david sylvian was thrown out of school for wearing make up and dying his hair, still pretty subversive now since you only have to look at the comments on youtube to see that people cannot cope with such expressions of individualism without having to denigrate them. Like the best pop songs here you will find defiance in the face of indifference, flamboyance shot through with melancholy or something more sinister. the lyrics of 'gentlemen take polaroids' for instance seem to have a creepy subtext but you would not guess that from the way the song floats along woozily from the speakers and into your ears, until the prolonged ending of ghostly sighs. two songs about parties - 'the art of parties' and a cover of 'all tomorrow's parties' - promise disappointment rather than the smiles that come from balloons and jelly and ice cream (add 'party fears two' and 'i'm a party' to make the most miserable party ever!) as i'm keeping a tally i might as well mention that yes there is saxophone, most noticeably on 'methods of dance' which is also the stand out track for me here, blending female vocals, the afore-mentioned high keening noodling sax, moaning bass, glockenspiels, and near-indecipherable lyrics, all of which hit their emotional receptors in my brain with gusto. kudos also to the mesmerising 'taking islands in africa' and 'nightporter' which showcases Sylvian's voice with minimal backing of piano and oboe (or clarinet), very affecting. as an introduction it worked its magic on me and now I am seeking to investigate the japan back catalogue. see you in the racks!

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'.