The gritty rock ‘n’ roll of the so-labelled ‘British Invasion’ bands of the early 1960s like The Rolling Stones and The Animals hit Brazil sometime later that decade, and when combined with the emergent psychedelic wonders of the Tropicalia scene that fused the much loved bossa nova beat with melodic and lyric adventurousness, musical fireworks were the inevitable consequence. American garage bands of the mid 1960s poured a sizeable amount of oversexed adolescence onto many sonic nuggets, but those Brazilians also picked up a thing or two. If I was looking to engage a beautiful girl in a slow dance with anticipated fun stuff to come, I might fast forward to Ele Seculo XX, track 11 on this super appealing compilation of Brazilian psychedelic rock. According to the liner notes, this song is a major rarity released in 1969 from the exotically titled group Com Os Falcoes Reais and serves the dual purpose of setting a desirable mood, and offering a transformed Latin American sound that was conceived in a harsh climate courtesy of a mono-culture loving dictatorship that ruled Brazil from 1964. Although facing imprisonment, exile and possibly worse, the Brazilian Tropicalia garage-rockers deserve much respect for not only planting a middle finger firmly in the face of an oppressive authority, but also coming up with some first rate psychedelia that would get a dance dufus like myself blissing out under multi-coloured strobe lights.
The gritty rock ‘n’ roll of the so-labelled ‘British Invasion’ bands of the early 1960s like The Rolling Stones and The Animals hit Brazil sometime later that decade, and when combined with the emergent psychedelic wonders of the Tropicalia scene that fused the much loved bossa nova beat with melodic and lyric adventurousness, musical fireworks were the inevitable consequence. American garage bands of the mid 1960s poured a sizeable amount of oversexed adolescence onto many sonic nuggets, but those Brazilians also picked up a thing or two. If I was looking to engage a beautiful girl in a slow dance with anticipated fun stuff to come, I might fast forward to Ele Seculo XX, track 11 on this super appealing compilation of Brazilian psychedelic rock. According to the liner notes, this song is a major rarity released in 1969 from the exotically titled group Com Os Falcoes Reais and serves the dual purpose of setting a desirable mood, and offering a transformed Latin American sound that was conceived in a harsh climate courtesy of a mono-culture loving dictatorship that ruled Brazil from 1964. Although facing imprisonment, exile and possibly worse, the Brazilian Tropicalia garage-rockers deserve much respect for not only planting a middle finger firmly in the face of an oppressive authority, but also coming up with some first rate psychedelia that would get a dance dufus like myself blissing out under multi-coloured strobe lights.
Eminem - Recovery [Interscope / Shady Records]:
Recovery is a statement. A statement of what is really up to the listener; for me it’s all about vindication. One thing you realise on the first listen of Recovery is that everything that has happened in his whole career has happened for a reason: experience.
After being disappointed by the direction of The Eminem Show and Encore and only slightly reignited by Relapse, true fans of the trailer park troubadour have finally been served a decorous dish in the form of his new album.
Although some might say the use of several different producers on the record takes away the ‘album’ feel and makes it sound more like a collection of songs, I think it works as an advantage. Tracks like 25 to Life, Spaceman, Going Through Changes and Cinderella Man are just brilliant. Recovery is Slim Shady at his most re-listenable; this is a rap album with character more than a pop chart album laced with street poetry. The real strength of this album lies in the combination of catchy choruses, the variety of flows and the consistently unbelievable rhymes.
I can say without a shadow of a doubt that the lyrical delivery on Recovery is the best I have ever heard, and I am a huge hip-hop fan. Recovery is raw, honest and complete. This is Eminem throwing his critics the microphone and saying ‘tell these people something they don’t know about me’.
The demise of Ohana in 2008 left a gaping hole in the Australian post-hardcore scene. Ohana announced a split only a few months after releasing their critically acclaimed sophomore LP Dead Beat. Neil Thomason at Head Gap recorded Dead Beat and this year he recorded Bone’s second EP Face Prison. Making the move from Perth to Melbourne this year, Bone could well be the band to fill Ohana’s shoes. Bone draw on the tone of ‘90s noise rockers Shellac and The Jesus Lizard and elements of mathletes Battles and Oxes.
Ants and Billy Ray Cyrus Collosus are the stand out tracks on the EP as they have the strongest motifs often built on distorted bass lines with a punk swagger. The distorted yelling from Jonathon Shub is not without melody and though his lyrics are effectively inaudible, it is their abstract quality that avoids some of the awkward angsty lyrics that befell Ohana and Refused before them. Some of the angular guitar melodies recall At The Drive In though Bone avoid ATDI’s chaos in favour of a seething restraint that incorporates silences that hit as hard as the riff before it. On Double Pen and McClane, Bone hint at metal guitar riffs and obvious rhythms that sometimes seem a little dated. Though on the whole, Face Prison is an EP that offers moments of brilliance and a glimpse of a band on the verge of something great.
From the moment album opener Angels Crying explodes from the speakers to the last dying notes of closer Fallen Angel (and no, not every song here has an angelic theme), you will be captivated. Norwegian chanteuse Issa is the possessor of a frankly gargantuan set of pipes, and, with the aid of a stellar set of Euro metal sidemen (including a bassist going by the spectacular moniker of Nobby Noberg, as well as Helloween’s Uli Kursch on timekeeping duties) she has come up with quite simply the best collection of AOR tunes sung by a lady since Cher’s self titled 1987 album. First single I’m Alive is almost perfect; the sort of rousing anthem one of the Scandinavian countries usually throw into Eurovision, whilst the spine tingling Give Me a Sign is the kind of stuff that, if recorded by Miley Cyrus, would sell by the bucketload.
If it were possible, the ante is upped still further by the spectacular River of Love, Issa’s voice propelling the song to heights of aural nirvana rarely heard in these times of lowered expectation, Peter Huss’s guitar solo setting the whole thing up for a key change that’ll have you out of your recliner, singing along and punching the air whether you like it or not; make no mistake – if you like this melodic hard rock/AOR style of musical exposition, YOU WILL NOT, REPEAT NOT, hear any better this year. Perfect.
After their universally acclaimed debut Funeral and its contentious follow-up Neon Bible, fans and critics speculated endlessly the direction that Montreal’s baroque pop septet would take on their third album. To the surprise of many, the group has not gone back to basics, nor have they tried to build on the epic, complex arrangements that characterised the highlights of their first two albums. Instead, The Suburbs is, initially, rather unassuming. Against a restrained spectrum of indie pop songwriting, Win Butler’s lyrics are less poetic and less aggressive, but infinitely more relatable. In contrast to the escapism of Funeral and the brazen, accusatory tone of Neon Bible, The Suburbs, like its eponym, is ultimately more engaging because its thematic reference points are firmly rooted in the day-to-day world its listeners live in. The arrangements are well considered and not too busy, but manage nonetheless to evoke a broader assortment of emotions than their previous work, encapsulating beautifully the world of urban sprawl in all its sterile, nostalgic, bitter-sweet glory. The Suburbs could easily have ended up as sentimental fluff, but instead may be the group’s crowning achievement thus far.
Stone Temple Pilots - Stone Temple Pilots [Atlantic]:
It’s easy to pity Stone Temple Pilots. Rarely has a band been dismissed so lightly and attracted such undue scorn from perceived allegiances. They were cabin hopping grunge wannabes, cashing in on the gloom rock glory days. Rubbish. Stone Temple Pilots were revivalists in love with rocks golden teenage era - Bowie, Led Zep, The Stooges and Stones. That they found an audience in the early to mid nineties is mere happenstance.
1996’s Tiny Music… proved they could pull off hook-laden scuzzy garage rock and dreamy psych-pop barely raising a sweat. But the backlash was on and the band spluttered to dissolution, creatively nimble but commercially a spent force. Of course Scott Wieland being a massive junkie didn’t exactly help. And so – as per script – the late oughts reformation is upon us.
Stone Temple Pilots is their first album together in nearly a decade but where there should be a sense of urgency – to justify existence – there’s a lazy reliance on old tricks; a lucky dip of influences, a dash of flair, some melodic crunch and a frustrating sense missing the target. As usual, Dean DeLeo is beyond reproach, an undervalued and innovative riff machine who appears to have been listening to a lot of Aerosmith lately. But even whilst coasting Stone Temple Pilots are intriguing – a band lost in time, not really belonging anywhere in particular, making music purely because it feels good.
Trentemøller - Into the Great Wide Yonder [Into My Room]:
The Dutchman has produced a soundtrack for some sort of psychedelic wander through a musical landscape, taking us from the smallest of beats laid with orchestra to heavy guitars painted with haunting vocals, and just a couple of big beats for turning the hell up. The music is so genius and organic in its composition that it could be a concept album, sometimes melodramatic, sometimes minimalist. He begins with interesting simplicity with steel guitars and dreamy vocals through the first few tracks, before a cracking club tune with violins called Shades of Marble and a peak at Silver Surfer, Ghost Rider Go!!! which steers the album into the industrial before smoothing back into the sweet, soft pianos and whispering singers.
Step Into the Great Wide Yonder departs massively from Trentemøller’s first album. The genius bugger fooled us, which is fine, because you become surprised every time the track number ticks over. Every sound plays a part to incite certain feelings which can be rather sinister, such as Marie Fisker’s vocal appearance in Sycamore Feeling, or playful, like with Neverglade. You could easily sit back and just enjoy the beauty in the background, but I recommend closing your eyes and listening intently. It’s the only way you can really break down all the remarkable sounds hidden behind one another and truly comprehend what you’re hearing. This album is completely bizarre, amazing in every way, and you will fall in love at many points.
