Maybeeee Someone’s Gonna Save Meeeee

Tickets bought to see Stephen Malkmus at ULU on April 12, hooray, hooray!!! But now there’s a dilemma – I assume he’ll sing lots of songs from his solo album, so do I go buy it so that I don’t end up listening in ignorance? I originally intended to wait till it was available second hand at Django, or buy it cheap in Singapore when I go home for the summer. And is it an affront to him as a solo artist to hope he sings some Pavement songs as well? I’m not asking for much, just AT&T, Shady Lane and In The Mouth A Desert. Please?

Now that’s done, I have to go toddle down to various roadside ticketing agents and see what I can scrounge up for Yo La Tengo (April 10). And hey, contrary to my previously voiced fears, I’m not going to have to slink in alone and grit my teeth in envy eavesdropping on everyone else talking to their friends about how much they love Slanted And Enchanted, or I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One, because Marten, sole indie-lovin’ friend in London, decided that the gigs were just too good to pass up.

Yay. :) Going to these two gigs will go far towards lessening my genuine pain of missing Bon Jovi when they play here in June!

And hordes of indie readers leave in disgust.

My Manta Ray’s All Right

You know that exquisite pain you get when a fantastic song is in your head, but circumstances prevent you from getting to actually hear it? I don’t know why there’s such a huge difference between hearing it in your head and hearing it from your speakers, but there undoubtedly is. You’re walking around for hours with it in there, and if it’s a song you love, chances are you know it intimately and your memory’s playing every note, but when you manage to get to your room and actually hear it in stereo, it’s like that moment’s a screaming orgasm and everything before was just indifferent foreplay.

At some point during lunch with Tamara at Belgo’s yesterday, Pixies’ Manta Ray started playing in my head.

I tried lots of ways to get it out. I went to Borders and listened to Sigur Ros, Black Box Recorder, Kid Loco, DJ Krush, Handsome Boy Modeling School, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and Sibelius. (Increasingly strange looks from the guy manning the listening station.) My find of the day: Pinchas Zukerman playing Bruch’s Violin Concerto No.1, Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole, and Vieuxtemps’ Violin Concerto No.5, conducted by Zubin Mehta, for 5.99! That’s the great thing about buying classical music that isn’t usually possible with indie rock – you can get so much good stuff for cheap. Supporting an indie rock habit, where every CD you want has an IMPORT sticker on it and costs twice as much as an ordinary CD, generally requires a willingness for turning tricks, drug dealing, organ farming or investment banking.

So anyway, nothing worked. I still kept having to remind myself not to burst out into “Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo, YEAH!” in front of other people, and it was torture not being able to. Then I got home, scrambled to my computer, put it on and turned up the volume, and…

HOO-HOO, HOO-HOO, YEAH!!

:)

3 CDs & Some Wishful Gig-Thinking

More money spent at Django, hooray, alas, whatever!

Death Cab For Cutie: We Have The Facts And We’re Voting Yes
Starlight Mints: The Dream That Stuff Was Made Of
Kruder & Dorfmeister: The K & D Sessions

The first two are for me, and the third’s for Nick, who turns 21 on March 29, and I hope hope hope he doesn’t go and buy it for himself before then.

A scrounge through the latest Time Out in Budgens revealed more gigs I’d really like to go to but’ll probably end up missing, primarily for lack of company:

Sunny Day Real Estate, March 6
Low, March 22
Yo La Tengo, April 10
Stephen Malkmus, April 17
Sigur Ros, April 24

I may well do a repeat of my Flaming Lips/Built To Spill/Wheat/Smashing Pumpkins lone woman experience for Yo La Tengo and Stephen Malkmus, but it really isn’t much fun. Sigh. All I really want is some rich generous indie-rock loving friends with vast amounts of free time on their hands. And a pony.

Placebo Poetry

Oh God, I have discovered one of the greatest comedic writing geniuses of modern times. The only problem is that I don’t think Brian Molko of Placebo means to be funny.

I was brushing my teeth this morning when Xfm played Placebo’s new single, Special K. By the chorus I had ingested half the toothpaste and sprayed the other half onto the mirror. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t expect every song to be Strange Fruit, and one of my favourite singers did start an album by confessing “Father, I killed my monkey” and my favourite band did give the world My Friend Goo, but really, Brian, leitmotif?

SPECIAL K (words in bold are particular gems IMO)

Coming up beyond belief
On this coronary thief
More than just a leitmotif
More chaotic, no relief

I’ll describe the way I feel
Weeping wounds that never heal
Can the savior be for real
Or are you just my seventh seal?

No hesitation, no delay
You come on just like special K
Just like I swallowed half my stash
I never ever want to crash
No hesitation, no delay
You come on just like special K
Now you’re back with dope demand
I’m on sinking sand
Gravity
No escaping gravity
Gravity
No escaping… not for free
I fall down… hit the ground
Make a heavy sound
Every time you seem to come around

I’ll describe the way I feel
You’re my new Achilles heel
Can this savior be for real
Or are you just my seventh seal?

No escaping gravity
No escaping gravity
No escaping gravity
No escaping gravity
Gravity (x4)

Oh, and while we’re on the subject, Brian, friendly note: calling a song Slave To The Wage and having this chorus –

It’s a maze for rats to try x2
It’s a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die
It’s a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die

– does not make for penetrating social commentary. It sounds asinine.

Adagio For Last-Minute Essays

Last night had to be one of the most chilled last minute desperate essay rushes ever.

Having been obsessed with Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings over the past couple of days, I had Adagio for Strings, Agnus Dei (its choral arrangement) and William Orbit’s version of the work on repeat in WinAmp, and it’s interesting how each version creates a mood of its own quite distinct from that of its counterparts.

The strings arrangement gives me a feeling of overwhelming grief, tempered with dignity. The sort of grief that is tight-lipped and painfully controlled in public but collapses into shattering sobs in private. You feel almost disrespectful if you don’t stop what you’re doing and listen. (This didn’t help the essay-writing process much)

In contrast, there’s little or no sadness in the choral arrangement. I think of worship and reverence, buoyed by quiet hope. This is obviously also due to its title and lyrical content, but even without my Catholic consciousness of what Agnus Dei means, I get a distinctly different feeling from this one than the strings arrangement.

To me, the William Orbit version lacks the warmth and depth of the previous two. It’s a wash of synth, from which I get little or no feeling at all. I just keep thinking of that beloved tribal gesture of trance clubbers, usually made while one track is seguing into another – the “raise your upturned palms in the air as if you are a lightless people and have just seen the sun”. Hmm. Sounds like a Godspeed You Black Emperor! album title. Where was I? Oh, the William Orbit version. I guess this illustrates my point – it’s just really forgettable.

It was almost cosy. Me, Samuel Barber, and the European Court of Justice.

Afternoon With XFM

Song on the Xfm playlist I’m enjoying:
Clint Eastwood (Gorillaz) – Every time this plays I am overcome by a strange compulsion to do that embarrassingly unhip headboppin’ thang. Damon Albarn’s vocals have that laid back Stephen Malkmus vibe he’s gotten good at since Blur’s self-titled album, and as for the rapping in the verses…well, I just like it. I don’t know why. (Note to self: do not quit study of law to become world-famous music journalist just yet.) I’m not sure what to make of the whole virtual reality group concept (Idoru?), but the quality of the two singles released so far suggest we might just be into something good.

Song on the Xfm playlist I’m hating:
Butterfly (Crazy Town) – Will someone please explain to this band that if they want to be yet another nu-metal band, they need to actually have some metal. These guys do the whole Limp Bizkit rap stylie thing, but there isn’t a single overblown, whiplash-inducing riff in this song. If that isn’t bad enough, the song’s called Butterfly, and includes “sugar-pie” in its lyrics. Disgraceful. I want my nu-metal songs to conjure up images of socially dysfunctional adolescents wearing black clothes and neck-braces. File under just “nu”.

Song on the Xfm playlist I’m ashamed of enjoying:
The Next Episode (Dr Dre) – I have no explanations. No excuses. I offer this personal revelation in the hope that public humiliation is good for the soul.

Just randomly:
Thank you, Spencer Owen from Pitchfork, for giving Coldplay’s Parachutes a review it deserves – by this, I mean a review that fully acknowledges its stunning mediocrity. Spot on about the blatant Jeff Buckley influence in Shiver as well, as well as the fact that Jeff did it so much better. I sometimes raise my eyebrows at some of their reviews, but I couldn’t agree with this one more. The mainstream UK music press really should stop relying on that one brain cell they pass round.

Break free
From NME!

Classical Re-Education

A radical change in listening choices today. I was doing reception duty in my hall this morning, and was about to put on Xfm when I noticed a cassette tape lying beside the stereo. Nigel Kennedy playing Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor and Bruch’s Violin Concerto No 1 in G minor. I put the tape on, and ended up listening to each work two or three times through.

My links with classical music have become somewhat eroded over the years. I finished Grade 8 in violin and piano, and meandered for a while after that, unwilling to take on the practice required for performance certificates and diplomas, due to my increasing commitment to competitive debating. I was a first violinist in the Singapore Youth Orchestra from when I was 13, and left when I was 18, also because I needed time to train for the World Schools Debating Championships.

The music this morning took me back to that time of my life. They were pieces I’ve played, and loved, and I suddenly felt a sudden and acute loss of those days when classical music was so much a part of my life. I might pop down to Oxford Street later and look for some of those old loves, but I realize the inadequacy and stagnation of my knowledge here now – which interpretation?

Who does the best rendition of Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole? Stravinsky’s The Rites Of Spring? Who will give me the sound and fury I love in Mussorgsky’s Night On Bare Mountain and Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances, but preserve the sinuous beauty that peeps in every now and then? I know nothing about Mahler but want to, who will teach me to appreciate him? Can anyone play Paganini’s violin caprices and do them justice? Bach’s Goldberg Variations?

Ignorance is anything but bliss.

HMV Got My Number

Argh. After buying 4 CDs at Borders on Tuesday, I suppose I can’t possibly justify buying three more at HMV with the 3 for £20 offer. Stuff I’m tempted by:

  • Outkast: Aquemini
  • Hefner: Fear Of God (although I’m not sure if I should get this or just wait till I can afford The Fidelity Wars.)
  • Spiritualized: Pure Phase or Lazer Guided Melodies
  • Red Snapper: Making Bones
  • Nick Drake: Way To Blue
  • David Holmes: This Film’s Crap Let’s Slash The Seats
  • Miles Davis: Kind Of Blue

As I said, argh.

Student Discount Day Yay

I love Student Discount Day at Borders. Today’s haul:
The Sandman Companion (Hy Bender), £8.99
Grandaddy: Under The Western Freeway, £6.99
Roots Manuva: Brand New Second Hand, £6.99
Stereo MCs: DJ Kicks, £6.99
The Beta Band’s self titled, £6.99
20% off everything. :)

Speaking of Sandman, I just found this new and pretty damn excellent gallery! I also found out that Neil Gaiman has a new book coming out in July, American Gods. It’s already on my wishlist.

Discovering little things like these make me happy, and are good for the stress headache I seem to be suffering from right now. Another site for sore heads is this one in honour of artist Dave McKean. which I’ve been devouring over quite a while. Its parent site, erasing.org is also highly worth a visit – it’s one of the very small number of sites I check every day.

Hmm. What else before I return to my room and my property law essay?

I’m a wallpaper junkie. Even more so when it’s eels wallpaper (the band. Not the long slimy sea thing.)

This Peanuts version of the breakup of the Smashing Pumpkins is funny and all, but after reading it, I sort of just sat here and felt…sad. Say what you will about the theatrics, the tantrums and the teen angst lyrics, but at the end of it all, I loved the music, lusted after James Iha, liked Billy in spite of all the bad press he got, and thoroughly enjoyed the two occasions I saw the band in concert (Singapore 1995ish, London 2000). Current favourite SP song, (though it might well be a different one in a few days time): Soothe. I love the guitar work on it.

Damn it, someone already made a Kilgore Trout page. I often find it difficult to commit myself to absolute rankings i.e. My All-Time Favourite ______, but I think I can say, without a doubt, that Kilgore Trout would probably be my all-time favourite writer who doesn’t exist.

The NME Thing: Mansun/King Adora/Sunna/Mull Historical Society (Astoria, London)

I knew I had to do the NME thing at some point during my time in Britain. Tonight I went to a Mansun/King Adora/Sunna/Mull Historical Society gig at the Astoria with Matt, Alec and Nina. As I’ve said before here, it wasn’t the first gig I’d choose to go to out of all available, but Matt wanted to go, and I figured I might as well go since I’d have company.

We got there during Mull Historical Society’s set. I can’t say I was distressed at having missed any of it. I suppose a charitable music journalist could call their lack of packaging, stage presence or sound quality refreshing in this age of manufactured musicality, but I was underwhelmed. Of course, if they become the next Radiohead, I’ll have to delete this post hurriedly and drop smug little references into conversations about how I watched them when they were unknown and knew they were going to make it big, but somehow I’m not too worried about that happening.

The second act, Sunna, was definitely an improvement. Sure, they didn’t sound like much more than a rather derivative heavy rock/lite metal Bush/Metallica/Pearl Jam amalgam, but they had catchy enough riffs, showmanship, and at least some level of variation in their songs. They had the Metallica ballad, the White Zombie-esque dancey metally track, the Pearl Jam’s Spin The Black Circle stylie thrash, and other appropriately dark toned, minor keyed extended jams, all involving lots of flashing lights and people risking whiplash. All good fun.

King Adora. Hmm. I didn’t realize how many of their songs I actually knew until I heard them perform. I was generally distracted during their set by the antics of a group of what looked like 14 year olds who were obviously huge fans. One had orange King Adora bumper stickers stuck across his face. At the end he ripped them off in a swift and manly gesture and waved them ecstatically in the air. Ten seconds later, one hand came down from its aerial worship and surreptitiously checked an eyebrow. Ouch.

The main feeling I had at the end of Mansun’s gig was frustration. This is a band whose first album I thoroughly enjoyed, whose second album I thought showed a significant evolution of sound, and whose third and most recent album I felt to be profoundly uninspired and so tediously Mansunesque it sounded like a Mansun tribute band.

Live, The Chad Who Loved Me, Taxloss, Blown It/Special and Wide Open Space (all from Attack Of The Grey Lantern and Six) were immensely satisfying, and Paul Draper can definitely sing live. But ultimately, these performances just showed up the mediocrity of the new material even more. I Can Only Disappoint You was as boring live as it is on the album. They tried to give Electric Man some resonance by washing the band in warm yellow light during the chorus (“Bring your sunshine to me, oh, electric man”) but if the music doesn’t move me, clever lighting won’t change that.

Other musings:

Is there some unwritten requirement that when you go to a gig, if you don’t have a T-shirt of a band performing, you have to wear another one with some other band in the “scene” on it?

Do indie boys really think that disgusting haircut (and I use the terminology loosely) looks good? Only Beck looks cool with it, boys. And that’s actually just because he’s Beck. It’s still a dumb haircut even on his dear little genius head.