No history of “Alternative” music would be complete without The Cocteau Twins. Once their style became fully realized, their body of work became such a cohesive sound that it’s hard to pick a defining or landmark release. The adjectives typically assigned to their music - “ethereal,” “atmospheric,” “lush,” - have become so synonymous with their style, and that of their followers, that the words fail their descriptions and have become more opaque hallmarks of a stereotype than translucent explanation of a dense and highly unique musical style. Even more so, with the emergence of the “Shoegazer” aesthetic that followed them, the style flourished into more “accessible” expressions making the real foundations of the style even more opaque. So given the challenge, I’m picking 1984’s “Treasure” as The Cocteau Twins’ landmark album.
Take a moment to think about 1984. No matter which side of the pond you were on, there wasn’t much music around that sounded like this. Punk had transformed to “New Wave,” MTV had exploded into our lives, and with it brought us the “marketable concept” artist like Duran Duran, Madonna, Def Leppard. Music and image were wed like never before. The complaint of older music afficianados was that music videos were too obvious and too specific. Instead of music inspiring individualized interior movies of the listeners’ imagination, the role was reversed. The music was now subverted to the soundtrack of elaborately produced and styled mini-movies force fed to a generation. The impact of MTV and music videos on the history of modern music is certainly a separate and lengthy topic, but it sets the stage for understanding the Cocteau Twins.
Meanwhile, back in London, a guy named Ivo Watts-Russell had a little independent record label called 4AD. In the early eighties he had assembled a roster of artists that could only be described as ‘artsy’ or ‘ecclectic’. Bauhaus, The Wedding Present, The The - These were the misfits of the eighties, artists that had one foot in the rich tradition of british pop songwriting, but the other foot wandering far afield into experimental fields of dark atmosphere, strange emotional landscapes, experimental sound sculptures, and dark, now called “goth”, romantic narrative. The Cocteau Twins started their career in this pool of motley peers. It took a few albums to find their feet and truly establish their style, but it was clear from the start that part of their uniqueness was the vocals. Even in their debut album, with its grinding punk-ish songs, Elizabeth Fraser’s voice was pushed to the forefront of the mix where it dominated the guitar and weak drum machine with almost operatic, gymnastic bravado. It was clear in their earliest recordings that Fraser’s voice was capable of something more than the confines of the 3-4 minute pop-song. Within a single phrase or sometimes even word, her voice seemed to push the limit of the literal words and inflect them with an emotional energy that would push their meaning in new directions. But still mired in the seemingly purposely dark and obscure songwriting of that early eclectic style (encouraged at 4AD?), the Cocteaus failed to truly reach their potential.
Finally in 1984, they recorded “Treasure”. It’s hard to pinpoint what changed. Undoubtedly the change of bassists was part of the shift that moved them away from the more aggressively rhythm driven arrangements to the more relaxed space that gave Robin Guthrie the space to expand his approach to guitar and effects. Perhaps too, their concurrent collaboration with label mates Dif Juz taught them to let go of the more traditional expectations of the pop song for their more ‘ethereal’ sound. Whatever the reason, the result was a landmark album that would inspire a legion of followers, not to mention establish a style that would resonate in the halls of 4AD for years to come. (* I have to take a moment to note that Watts-Russell’s guidance has born similar fruit at 4AD where he’s simultaneously encouraged their stylistic development, as well as gave them the artistic freedom to deviate from the norm. Perhaps one of these entries needs to be about Landmark record labels and Producers, for surely they are as important to the history of modern music!)
Musically, the change was not so much a change of elements as it was a change in approach. The trio continued its framework of sequenced percussion, bass, and echo/effect-laden guitar work as the back ground for Fraser’s unique voice. But instead of trying to wrap that framework around pre-conceived and externally defined songwriting standards (i.e. the pop-radio and MTV marketing machine), it’s as if they closed the studio door, and let the framework itself determine the shape of the songs. The bass no longer sought to drive the composition, the guitars no longer were driven to find a hook, and most notably of all, Fraser’s voice freed itself from language. Stripped of the constraints of literal meanings or connotations the vocal now simply conveyed emotion, and in doing so released Fraser’s full range. What previously sounded forced and operatic, now leaped from angelic tones to earthy and primal growls, to dynamic swells and overdubbed layers of self-harmonies. Its almost as if her vocal styling took a page from Guthrie’s guitar style book where he was no longer concerned with using the guitar as a guitar per se, but instead let the instrument’s inherent physical attributes (open string harmonics), and the manipulations of electronic effects (distortion, echos and sustains) create music based more on pure sound than on the rigid expectations of genre.
And song by song, the tracks on “Treasure” exhibit a wide drift through genres that is easily overlooked as the listener is swamped in the wash of sound that unifies the entire album. Where songs like “Ivo” or “Lorelei” showcase dramatic surges in dynamic tension alternating between the heavenly ether and a more earthly sonic blast, “Beatrix” takes inspiration from almost medieval arpeggio plucking, and “Pandora” builds its atmosphere on a jazz influenced, syncopated rhythm. But listener isn’t left feeling like you just listened to a pastiche of styles. The wash of pure sound from both the guitar and the vocal almost bleaches out the connotations of the genres the songs engage. And while the songs are full of melodic hooks and textural fills that fix the attention, the abstractness of the song leaves the listener with only an emotional impression instead of a literal definition. The songs establish themselves at a balance point where they exhibit strong formal presence with a definite dramatic arch in songwriting, yet the abstract application of their instrumentation and voice, allow the song to disappear into the very ether they seemed to suggest. It’s as if each song is a dream from which you awake with a profound feeling, but only a fleeting memory of why you felt it.
With “Treasure”, and the albums that followed, anyone would be hard pressed to say what a Cocteau Twins song is about. I remember a joke in college: “Have you heard that new Cocteau Twins song?” to which you would answer, “I’m not sure, how does it go?” You were left with yodeling and singing to each other in baby talk that couldn’t even approximate the melody or words. Contrast that with what you would say to describe the music of their contemporaries in “The Dawn of MTV”. How do you say what a Duran Duran song is about? Its easy - you have a video to imprint your consciousness with a narrative. The importance of “Treasure” was how it broke with the mainstream of music that was become so dominated by overt messages, and ultimately marketing, and set out in a direction that championed pure sound, and the autonomy of songwriting freed from everything but the drive to express emotion and mood.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Friday, November 16, 2007
Exit Planet Dust - The Chemical Brothers
“Exit Planet Dust” in 1995 heralded the birth of “Big Beat Techno.” A subgenre of electronica/dance music characterized by it broad, almost bombastic and “in your face” hook laden high energy music. All pigeon hole labeling aside, this album successfully bridged the gap between dance/techno/house/electronica and the rock/pop/indie audience effectively bringing techno and dance music to the masses in a way that never happened before.
First coming together in the “Madchester” era of the British Rave scene, Tom & Ed began their career as The Dust Brothers (in homage to the producers of another landmark album, “Paul’s Boutique”) performing in the rabid club scene and progressing on to remixes for more established indie and alternative artists like Primal Scream, The Charlatans and The Prodigy. In these early days, they inadvertently tapped into what would become their signature sound; a meeting between house influenced psychedelic techno and hook heavy indie pop/rock. At the time, their DJ and remixing style hit a perfect niche in the market. The salad days of the infamous Hacienda nightclub were transitioning away from the indie dance band days epitomized by New Order, through the short lived style of “baggy”, and now into the psychedelic-techno laden music of characterized by Paul Oakenfeld and his crew. But instead of hard-grinding of the gears away from the formalities of songwriting and diving headfirst into the abstractions of pure house, The Chemical Brothers proved you could do both. They brought trippy electronic effects and high energy, polyrhythmic techno flair to high profile bands with already established signature sounds, hooks and cult’s of personality. The result was artists you knew from the radio now in a style with new infectious and irresistible dance energy.
Giving up The Dust Brothers moniker for legal reasons, and taking on The Chemical Brothers name, they took the next leap of creativity with a gesture that moved them the famous DJ category, to Artists in the Own Right. Quite a jump. Music critics and fans alike were long divided and firmly entrenched in their camps. You either liked techno, or you liked rock. There was no middle ground. A few DJs had made the leap to “Artists in Their Own Right”, but none had done so and successfully bridged the two genres. Even their previously name-checked idols The Beastie Boys, despite their creativity, seemed to be only able to live in one world at a time as they moved from style to style in their successive albums. But the manifesto was clear in the opening sample of Exit Planet Dust: “the Brothers’ gonna work it out.”
But enough music history, what about the music? What is it about the music on this record that’s so special? Technically, there’s little new to be found here. Indeed from the opening sample, to the following sounds and beats that get folded into “Leave Home” The Chemicals seem to be purposefully retro, foregoing the synthetic sounds and textures of modern techno for old school funk guitar and sonically fat “real drum” percussion loops. Like the metaphoric cover photo of the album with its late 70s imagery, within the first 2 minutes of the first song, you are aware that this is not a typical techno album, but instead music that is built upon the relics of a different age, a different style. Now you could belabor the point that this return/recycling and reinventing of a fetishized past is an artistic move based in whatever post-modernist theory you embrace, but music here kind of insists that you shut your brain off in lieu of a more visceral response. Throughout the rest of the album, the Ed and Tom continue to resurrect old samples from funk, rock, and indie sources in a sort of Proustian pastiche that simultaneously resonates with the listener as both a historian of music, as well as a love of pure raw sound in two ways: in the selection of the sample itself as well as the more digital effect treatment they apply to the sample as they update it. This is really the root of The Chemical Brother’s treatment of samples that falls into two basic categories on this record: Selection and Treatment.
First and foremost is the selection of the sample. Instead of following the methods of the dominant DJ scene of hoarding an esoteric record collection of obscure beats and hermetically sealed creativity loops of records made by DJs for DJs, they followed the “Paul’s Boutique” method of selecting samples that were both recognizable to a large audience, and focusing on the singular, bombastic and sometimes dominant HOOK of a song. Where the House DJ selected samples based on their intricacy and cleverness when juxtaposed against other samples and rhythms, the Samples here are based on their ability to stand alone; and ultimately how remarkable they are as pure sound isolated from the context of their source. The listener can almost imagine Tom and Ed in their bedrooms sifting through each other’s record collection and picking out “the coolest parts” of their favorite songs. Not only a stylistic innovation, this approach of building a techno song around building blocks gleaned from recognizable and explicitly rock/indie sources actually brought a new audience together, as listeners who favored British Indie bands over techno, no had a touch stone in the abstract audio soup of house music – the recognizable sample.
Of second but equal importance to a Chemical Brothers’ sample is the treatment, or the effect processing they apply to the source material. Often grabbing a snippet of a hook that was in the middle of its musical phrase, they isolated the elements of the hook into a more abstract sonic flourish, forcing the listener to hear the thick analogue and poly-tonal qualities of guitar based samples. Then sequencing the sample itself into a tightly rhythmic loop they push that sonic flourish to the limit between hook and texture. Taking a cue from the sonic indulgence of the so called “shoegazer” movement (and even sampling them directly) the samples themselves form a wall of sound which on one level embody a driving energetic and visceral rhythm, while simultaneously carrying a sonic richness that rewards close listening. It’s not until this framework is established in the song that The Chemical Brothers add in the more traditional techniques of the DJ genre utilizing digital effects and sequencers to layer in atmospheric effects and more traditional techno/dance motifs. The innovation here allows the songs on Exit Planet Dust to sound very analogue and rich in texture, while still using the crisp exacting digital techniques of modern electronica. For example the slow pan of the bucket flange over the tightly wound funk guitar sample of “Chemical Beats” takes away the harsh repetitive edge of the sample itself and allows the listener to wallow in the pure sound. Furthermore, the slow filter pan application to their sample repertoire helped to blend the old school analogue sample sound with the slick new 303, and modern sequencer driven elements of the compositions.
Finally, The Chemical Brothers bring to Exit Planet Dust the element that had for so long been truly lacking in electronic/techno music: Songwriting. Raised on the indie band standards of the 80s and 90s, Tom and Ed didn’t forget their roots – these songs have structure. Unlike the long sonic arc’s of a Paul Oakenfeld album or a typical house groove where one song is often indistinguishable from the next in a DJs set, the songs of Exit Planet Dust seem to have a verse/chorus/bridge structure similar to pop and rock. Indeed tracks such as “Life Is Sweet” or “Alive Alone” go so far as to even employ vocals and true songwriting (anathema to the faceless manifesto of modern techno). Yet, these songs don’t need vocals to feel like cohesively structured songs. The dynamics of compositional choices made as they weave samples and rhythms together follow the familiar “8-bar blues” format of traditional rock songwriting where the dynamic grouping of samples, melodies, rhythms follow predictable groupings within the meter of the songs. Take as an example again “Leave Home”: the samples that comprise the main groove of the song are introduced in successive groupings of 4, after each repetition of 4; the next sample is introduced, and so on, until the main groove is established. They let this main groove ride in the center of the composition on another multiple of 4, before breaking it entirely in a dynamic counterpoint introducing the next section of the song. This is a major departure from the slow sonic progressions of traditional house where sounds and textures gradually transform themselves over an interminably long stretch of rhythm, where the only major dynamic change is the infamous “drop the base” move: removing either the high end or low end of a groove for a period to highlight an intricacy of the remaining textures, only to then experience the rush of the return of the main beat to the groove a few bars later.
This is not to say The Chemical Brothers don’t indulge in stereotypical DJ moves. The album is full of them. But the dynamic shifts, filter pans and space age sound effects are less the foundation of the song, as they are the flourish and ornament over a song framework based on a very different approach
Ultimately, Exit Planet Dust is a landmark album because it exists as that juncture between genres. It is that point where the house/techno genre embraces pop and rock. It does so without sacrificing the energy and aesthetic of electronic music, but still satisfies the ear of an audience that demands more structured musical genre. And like all great landmarks, it inspired a legion of followers, popular radio play, and even commercial appropriation where the sound itself became symbolic of an energetic atmosphere and became and The Chemical Brothers themselves became sampled as the signature sound of Budweiser commercials in 2007.
First coming together in the “Madchester” era of the British Rave scene, Tom & Ed began their career as The Dust Brothers (in homage to the producers of another landmark album, “Paul’s Boutique”) performing in the rabid club scene and progressing on to remixes for more established indie and alternative artists like Primal Scream, The Charlatans and The Prodigy. In these early days, they inadvertently tapped into what would become their signature sound; a meeting between house influenced psychedelic techno and hook heavy indie pop/rock. At the time, their DJ and remixing style hit a perfect niche in the market. The salad days of the infamous Hacienda nightclub were transitioning away from the indie dance band days epitomized by New Order, through the short lived style of “baggy”, and now into the psychedelic-techno laden music of characterized by Paul Oakenfeld and his crew. But instead of hard-grinding of the gears away from the formalities of songwriting and diving headfirst into the abstractions of pure house, The Chemical Brothers proved you could do both. They brought trippy electronic effects and high energy, polyrhythmic techno flair to high profile bands with already established signature sounds, hooks and cult’s of personality. The result was artists you knew from the radio now in a style with new infectious and irresistible dance energy.
Giving up The Dust Brothers moniker for legal reasons, and taking on The Chemical Brothers name, they took the next leap of creativity with a gesture that moved them the famous DJ category, to Artists in the Own Right. Quite a jump. Music critics and fans alike were long divided and firmly entrenched in their camps. You either liked techno, or you liked rock. There was no middle ground. A few DJs had made the leap to “Artists in Their Own Right”, but none had done so and successfully bridged the two genres. Even their previously name-checked idols The Beastie Boys, despite their creativity, seemed to be only able to live in one world at a time as they moved from style to style in their successive albums. But the manifesto was clear in the opening sample of Exit Planet Dust: “the Brothers’ gonna work it out.”
But enough music history, what about the music? What is it about the music on this record that’s so special? Technically, there’s little new to be found here. Indeed from the opening sample, to the following sounds and beats that get folded into “Leave Home” The Chemicals seem to be purposefully retro, foregoing the synthetic sounds and textures of modern techno for old school funk guitar and sonically fat “real drum” percussion loops. Like the metaphoric cover photo of the album with its late 70s imagery, within the first 2 minutes of the first song, you are aware that this is not a typical techno album, but instead music that is built upon the relics of a different age, a different style. Now you could belabor the point that this return/recycling and reinventing of a fetishized past is an artistic move based in whatever post-modernist theory you embrace, but music here kind of insists that you shut your brain off in lieu of a more visceral response. Throughout the rest of the album, the Ed and Tom continue to resurrect old samples from funk, rock, and indie sources in a sort of Proustian pastiche that simultaneously resonates with the listener as both a historian of music, as well as a love of pure raw sound in two ways: in the selection of the sample itself as well as the more digital effect treatment they apply to the sample as they update it. This is really the root of The Chemical Brother’s treatment of samples that falls into two basic categories on this record: Selection and Treatment.
First and foremost is the selection of the sample. Instead of following the methods of the dominant DJ scene of hoarding an esoteric record collection of obscure beats and hermetically sealed creativity loops of records made by DJs for DJs, they followed the “Paul’s Boutique” method of selecting samples that were both recognizable to a large audience, and focusing on the singular, bombastic and sometimes dominant HOOK of a song. Where the House DJ selected samples based on their intricacy and cleverness when juxtaposed against other samples and rhythms, the Samples here are based on their ability to stand alone; and ultimately how remarkable they are as pure sound isolated from the context of their source. The listener can almost imagine Tom and Ed in their bedrooms sifting through each other’s record collection and picking out “the coolest parts” of their favorite songs. Not only a stylistic innovation, this approach of building a techno song around building blocks gleaned from recognizable and explicitly rock/indie sources actually brought a new audience together, as listeners who favored British Indie bands over techno, no had a touch stone in the abstract audio soup of house music – the recognizable sample.
Of second but equal importance to a Chemical Brothers’ sample is the treatment, or the effect processing they apply to the source material. Often grabbing a snippet of a hook that was in the middle of its musical phrase, they isolated the elements of the hook into a more abstract sonic flourish, forcing the listener to hear the thick analogue and poly-tonal qualities of guitar based samples. Then sequencing the sample itself into a tightly rhythmic loop they push that sonic flourish to the limit between hook and texture. Taking a cue from the sonic indulgence of the so called “shoegazer” movement (and even sampling them directly) the samples themselves form a wall of sound which on one level embody a driving energetic and visceral rhythm, while simultaneously carrying a sonic richness that rewards close listening. It’s not until this framework is established in the song that The Chemical Brothers add in the more traditional techniques of the DJ genre utilizing digital effects and sequencers to layer in atmospheric effects and more traditional techno/dance motifs. The innovation here allows the songs on Exit Planet Dust to sound very analogue and rich in texture, while still using the crisp exacting digital techniques of modern electronica. For example the slow pan of the bucket flange over the tightly wound funk guitar sample of “Chemical Beats” takes away the harsh repetitive edge of the sample itself and allows the listener to wallow in the pure sound. Furthermore, the slow filter pan application to their sample repertoire helped to blend the old school analogue sample sound with the slick new 303, and modern sequencer driven elements of the compositions.
Finally, The Chemical Brothers bring to Exit Planet Dust the element that had for so long been truly lacking in electronic/techno music: Songwriting. Raised on the indie band standards of the 80s and 90s, Tom and Ed didn’t forget their roots – these songs have structure. Unlike the long sonic arc’s of a Paul Oakenfeld album or a typical house groove where one song is often indistinguishable from the next in a DJs set, the songs of Exit Planet Dust seem to have a verse/chorus/bridge structure similar to pop and rock. Indeed tracks such as “Life Is Sweet” or “Alive Alone” go so far as to even employ vocals and true songwriting (anathema to the faceless manifesto of modern techno). Yet, these songs don’t need vocals to feel like cohesively structured songs. The dynamics of compositional choices made as they weave samples and rhythms together follow the familiar “8-bar blues” format of traditional rock songwriting where the dynamic grouping of samples, melodies, rhythms follow predictable groupings within the meter of the songs. Take as an example again “Leave Home”: the samples that comprise the main groove of the song are introduced in successive groupings of 4, after each repetition of 4; the next sample is introduced, and so on, until the main groove is established. They let this main groove ride in the center of the composition on another multiple of 4, before breaking it entirely in a dynamic counterpoint introducing the next section of the song. This is a major departure from the slow sonic progressions of traditional house where sounds and textures gradually transform themselves over an interminably long stretch of rhythm, where the only major dynamic change is the infamous “drop the base” move: removing either the high end or low end of a groove for a period to highlight an intricacy of the remaining textures, only to then experience the rush of the return of the main beat to the groove a few bars later.
This is not to say The Chemical Brothers don’t indulge in stereotypical DJ moves. The album is full of them. But the dynamic shifts, filter pans and space age sound effects are less the foundation of the song, as they are the flourish and ornament over a song framework based on a very different approach
Ultimately, Exit Planet Dust is a landmark album because it exists as that juncture between genres. It is that point where the house/techno genre embraces pop and rock. It does so without sacrificing the energy and aesthetic of electronic music, but still satisfies the ear of an audience that demands more structured musical genre. And like all great landmarks, it inspired a legion of followers, popular radio play, and even commercial appropriation where the sound itself became symbolic of an energetic atmosphere and became and The Chemical Brothers themselves became sampled as the signature sound of Budweiser commercials in 2007.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Outlandos d'Amour - The Police
A fitting place to start is with The Police’s debut album. A lot of ink has already been spilled about the importance of The Police now that they’ve re-formed and held their mega-tour, but besides all the nostalgic return of a fantastic body of hit songs, there is something more important about this record.
Released in 1978 (when I was too young to notice by the way) this first full length album was a pivotal record. Punk still reigned in England, and the raw anti-aesthetic was the dominant artistic gesture for musicians. The newly formed Police were not exempt. Their first few singles were raw, undisciplined attempts at a sneering pop-punk anthem. But here was the strange part – punk was the music of the untrained, un-refined, and some would even say un-musical. As quickly as it exploded into the public discourse, it quickly was veering into a kind of antithetical nihilism. The Sex Pistols themselves were the ultimate object lesson of Punk’s self-destructive dead-end trajectory. What could be the point of releasing A Great Punk Album, when the aesthetic itself was bent of de-throning the enshrined standards of greatness? And indeed, what was the point of musicianship, songwriting and or technical prowess when the genre had decreed that the ultimate artistic (or anti-artistic) expression was the raw squeal of feedback? But The Police were very different: Sting was an experienced, and highly educated jazz musician. Stewart Copeland was a wealthy expatriate with considerable training and technical skills at the drums. Andy Summers was an experienced (and surprisingly old for the punk scene) guitarist with a pedigree from Art Rock bands. Yet these three came together and tackled the energy and attitude of punk, as if only to subvert it from within. In hindsight, the pseudo-gibberish title of their first album seemed almost to hint at this agenda – in a musical scene where being anti-establishment was de rigueur, not only were the Police outlaws, but worse yet, they were Outlandos of LOVE. For all of Punk’s rejections, sentimentality and love were at the top of the list. But The Police were to reject even the standards of an aesthetic built on rejections. In this record they wed punk’s energy and attitude to a new emphasis on emotional lyrics, tight disciplined song-writing, and (horrors!) and expansive and refined musical technique.
Sting’s lyrical content and songwriting prowess is at the surface of Outlandos’ and almost needs no further elaboration. His skill for the tightly rhymed lyrical couplet was applied to themes both base and sublime: from lust (Next To You), unrequited love (Cant Stand Losing You), prostitution and redemption (Roxanne), teen obsessions, to existential examination (Hole In My Life, Truth Hits Everybody). While there was nothing particularly original or groundbreaking about his songwriting approach, the glint of his cleverness beneath the swagger of the traditional pop song and the punk-angst sneer, paired up with truly unique musicianship to create timeless songs.
But Sting has reaped more than enough accolades – onto the music. The brilliance of Outlandos D’Amour is how it melded so many disparate musical styles and transformed the Punk era into something new. Within the grooves of this record there lies reggae rhythms, chord progressions ripped from blues and jazz standards, Beatle-esque vocal harmonies, tied together with the raw punk energy that infused the late 70s.
Genre bending/melding aside, there’s true innovation in the musical techniques many listeners never notice. First is Stewart’s drumming. Drummers everywhere champion Copeland as one of the greatest rock drummers of all time. But why? The remarkable thing about his drumming is how he walks the fine line between restraint and indulgence. Outlandos opens with the thunderous drum beat introduction of “Next To You”. The listener has no question that this song is going to be loud, energetic and in your face, but as the song progresses the percussion is a tour de force, not of the force implied in the opening measures, but of percussive style. Copeland varies the beat not only through out the song, but within the very verses, chorus’s and bridges, he changes from tom rolls, to clattering snare and cymbal rides, and beyond even the diversification of the beat, Stewart shows incredible sensitivity to the character of the sound making the listener hear the difference between where on the cymbal bell he rides the rhythm by the different character of the sound. But behind the variety of every ornamentation he applies to the song, is a strong undeniable precision. Later in the Police’s work, what I call ornamentation evolves in the full blown polyrhythmic drumming, but here in Outlandos it is more the form of a sonic spectrum that makes the listener feel the true love of his craft that Stewart obviously lavishes on his drum kit. But the true greatness here is that the highly ornamented percussion, never totally eclipses the simple rhythmic precision of the song, giving Sting’s clever songwriting the room for its nimble dynamic gymnastics. But even more importantly, gives the breathing room for Andy’s guitar work, never competing with Andy’s guitar intricacies, and providing the textural fill where the guitar hovers in a wash of sound.
Andy Summers may well be one of the most under appreciated guitarists in recent history. The guitar work on Outlandos shows incredible breadth of style. While the songs are often built on the blunt crunch of punky power chords, and the occasional wailing rock-solos, there’s something more there when you listen closely. What the hell is a punk band doing playing diminished 3rds, and augmented minor 7ths?! And what’s with those short staccato jazz chords that Roxanne is built upon? Andy’s experience in art rock bands prior to The Police shows through, lurking under the surface. And while this style will forever be one of the signatures of Andy’s art, there’s something else just starting to surface in the guitar work of Outlandos d’Amour. Andy used effects unlike others before him – he used the guitar to evoke atmospheres. There’s echoing swells of sound on this record that sound like the wind; a train; glaring sunlight; glimmering moonlight; sounds that seem to have come from a dream; backward sounds, volume swelled swooshes of sound – sounds that seem to be anything but a guitar. I often say without Andy Summers there would have been no Edge; no Radiohead; dare I even say no Kevin Shields? Hyperbole? Perhaps. But it get’s my point across. Andy Summers was one of the first guitarists to transform the guitar into a new kind of instrument – one beyond chords and arpeggios, into an instrument of abstraction and evocation. This becomes more and more evident in the later Police albums, but the beginnings of it are captured here in Outlandos.
OK, so enough waxing ecstatic about this slab of wax. Despite all this high brow noodling, my point is simple. Outlandos d’Amour is a landmark album because it marks the point in where punk’s death throws and self-destructive aesthetic were infused with new life and resuscitated into a new style of music. I’m not sure I like the labels, “post-punk”, “new wave”… I just call it the foundation of 80s alternative music. Music that transformed it’s current genre by infusing it with both a historicity of music by introducing and melding it with other genres, as well as pure innovation with no agenda other than it’s own creativity.
Released in 1978 (when I was too young to notice by the way) this first full length album was a pivotal record. Punk still reigned in England, and the raw anti-aesthetic was the dominant artistic gesture for musicians. The newly formed Police were not exempt. Their first few singles were raw, undisciplined attempts at a sneering pop-punk anthem. But here was the strange part – punk was the music of the untrained, un-refined, and some would even say un-musical. As quickly as it exploded into the public discourse, it quickly was veering into a kind of antithetical nihilism. The Sex Pistols themselves were the ultimate object lesson of Punk’s self-destructive dead-end trajectory. What could be the point of releasing A Great Punk Album, when the aesthetic itself was bent of de-throning the enshrined standards of greatness? And indeed, what was the point of musicianship, songwriting and or technical prowess when the genre had decreed that the ultimate artistic (or anti-artistic) expression was the raw squeal of feedback? But The Police were very different: Sting was an experienced, and highly educated jazz musician. Stewart Copeland was a wealthy expatriate with considerable training and technical skills at the drums. Andy Summers was an experienced (and surprisingly old for the punk scene) guitarist with a pedigree from Art Rock bands. Yet these three came together and tackled the energy and attitude of punk, as if only to subvert it from within. In hindsight, the pseudo-gibberish title of their first album seemed almost to hint at this agenda – in a musical scene where being anti-establishment was de rigueur, not only were the Police outlaws, but worse yet, they were Outlandos of LOVE. For all of Punk’s rejections, sentimentality and love were at the top of the list. But The Police were to reject even the standards of an aesthetic built on rejections. In this record they wed punk’s energy and attitude to a new emphasis on emotional lyrics, tight disciplined song-writing, and (horrors!) and expansive and refined musical technique.
Sting’s lyrical content and songwriting prowess is at the surface of Outlandos’ and almost needs no further elaboration. His skill for the tightly rhymed lyrical couplet was applied to themes both base and sublime: from lust (Next To You), unrequited love (Cant Stand Losing You), prostitution and redemption (Roxanne), teen obsessions, to existential examination (Hole In My Life, Truth Hits Everybody). While there was nothing particularly original or groundbreaking about his songwriting approach, the glint of his cleverness beneath the swagger of the traditional pop song and the punk-angst sneer, paired up with truly unique musicianship to create timeless songs.
But Sting has reaped more than enough accolades – onto the music. The brilliance of Outlandos D’Amour is how it melded so many disparate musical styles and transformed the Punk era into something new. Within the grooves of this record there lies reggae rhythms, chord progressions ripped from blues and jazz standards, Beatle-esque vocal harmonies, tied together with the raw punk energy that infused the late 70s.
Genre bending/melding aside, there’s true innovation in the musical techniques many listeners never notice. First is Stewart’s drumming. Drummers everywhere champion Copeland as one of the greatest rock drummers of all time. But why? The remarkable thing about his drumming is how he walks the fine line between restraint and indulgence. Outlandos opens with the thunderous drum beat introduction of “Next To You”. The listener has no question that this song is going to be loud, energetic and in your face, but as the song progresses the percussion is a tour de force, not of the force implied in the opening measures, but of percussive style. Copeland varies the beat not only through out the song, but within the very verses, chorus’s and bridges, he changes from tom rolls, to clattering snare and cymbal rides, and beyond even the diversification of the beat, Stewart shows incredible sensitivity to the character of the sound making the listener hear the difference between where on the cymbal bell he rides the rhythm by the different character of the sound. But behind the variety of every ornamentation he applies to the song, is a strong undeniable precision. Later in the Police’s work, what I call ornamentation evolves in the full blown polyrhythmic drumming, but here in Outlandos it is more the form of a sonic spectrum that makes the listener feel the true love of his craft that Stewart obviously lavishes on his drum kit. But the true greatness here is that the highly ornamented percussion, never totally eclipses the simple rhythmic precision of the song, giving Sting’s clever songwriting the room for its nimble dynamic gymnastics. But even more importantly, gives the breathing room for Andy’s guitar work, never competing with Andy’s guitar intricacies, and providing the textural fill where the guitar hovers in a wash of sound.
Andy Summers may well be one of the most under appreciated guitarists in recent history. The guitar work on Outlandos shows incredible breadth of style. While the songs are often built on the blunt crunch of punky power chords, and the occasional wailing rock-solos, there’s something more there when you listen closely. What the hell is a punk band doing playing diminished 3rds, and augmented minor 7ths?! And what’s with those short staccato jazz chords that Roxanne is built upon? Andy’s experience in art rock bands prior to The Police shows through, lurking under the surface. And while this style will forever be one of the signatures of Andy’s art, there’s something else just starting to surface in the guitar work of Outlandos d’Amour. Andy used effects unlike others before him – he used the guitar to evoke atmospheres. There’s echoing swells of sound on this record that sound like the wind; a train; glaring sunlight; glimmering moonlight; sounds that seem to have come from a dream; backward sounds, volume swelled swooshes of sound – sounds that seem to be anything but a guitar. I often say without Andy Summers there would have been no Edge; no Radiohead; dare I even say no Kevin Shields? Hyperbole? Perhaps. But it get’s my point across. Andy Summers was one of the first guitarists to transform the guitar into a new kind of instrument – one beyond chords and arpeggios, into an instrument of abstraction and evocation. This becomes more and more evident in the later Police albums, but the beginnings of it are captured here in Outlandos.
OK, so enough waxing ecstatic about this slab of wax. Despite all this high brow noodling, my point is simple. Outlandos d’Amour is a landmark album because it marks the point in where punk’s death throws and self-destructive aesthetic were infused with new life and resuscitated into a new style of music. I’m not sure I like the labels, “post-punk”, “new wave”… I just call it the foundation of 80s alternative music. Music that transformed it’s current genre by infusing it with both a historicity of music by introducing and melding it with other genres, as well as pure innovation with no agenda other than it’s own creativity.
Monday, November 5, 2007
RE-RELEASED
This past week I picked up a copy of Sonic Youth's re-release of Daydream Nation. Nicely repackaged as a two disc gate fold in a vellum sleeve. Nicely reminiscent of the vinyl era of rock n rolll now returned as a nostalgic fetish, I might add. It's chock full of un-released material specially packaged and priced for discerning music enthusiasts such as myself...
Anyway, as I leafed through the expanded booklet full of pithy liner notes from obscure yet highly credentialed critics I was struck with conflicting emotions. First, I felt the reassuring glow, no doubt intended from the disc's producers, that because of this purchase and my longstanding appreciation of Sonic Youth, that I was somehow part of some cultural elite; some post-rock literati; some post-punk purveyor of musical genius... Quickly on the heels of that feeling was the sting of ironic realisation that I was holding a Sonic Youth record in my hands, and all that self-important ego noodling was at the core of what they were rallying against...
But brushing aside this irony as the inherent dichotomy of modern art, I settled into the realization that I was now part of a new demographic for the music industry. The underground, alterntative, cult, indie, groundbreaking bands of my youth were now crossing that threshhold into... what shall we call it... Classic Rock? No, that doesn't really fit. Maturity? I don't know... much like the music at the time, the labels don't fit. But Sonic Youth is now propped up alongside Pavement, The Pixies, even The Orb as bands to be "re-released", "re-mastered", "re-packaged" and "re-discovered"... What does all this mean... I guess it means that I'm getting old.
And for the most part, I'm OK with that. But as I looked through the CD collection and realized how many of the bands I've loved are now being "re-released," I realized that it is actually more than just the nostalgic glow of my own aging process. And it's more than the slick marketing ploys of the dinosaur that is the record industry making it's last grabs to pull itself out of the tar pits... There's actually important work going on here. I am from a generation who's musical history and legacy could easily be lost.
In my time, I saw music go from the demise of the Top 40, through New Wave, to Alternative, to Post Rock and Electronica. I've raced to record stores on Tuesday mornings to buy the new releases. I've logged on to download them (for free and for a price) to my computer. I've discovered new bands through "tape chains", fanzines, indie labels and record shops, email forums, web sites... I've listened to this music on bedroom stereos, car stereos, "boom boxes", MTV, Marshall Stacks and iPods. There's a unique trajectory that music has taken in my lifetime and so far, I've not seen anyone trace it. This trajectory was not only technology driven, but the music itself has followed a transgressive spiral driving itself further and further from "main stream" and away from the critical imperative to pigeon hole, as bands and the music itself evolved stylistically. So much so, that now when a band like Sonic Youth is re-released as a "Landmark Album", most of the people I know scratch their heads and go "Sonic WHO?".
So there I stood, contemplating all this in front of my CD collection as Lee Renaldo asked over an answering maching a thousand miles away and 20 years ago "...did you find your shit?", captured in re-mastered, re-packaged and re-released version of "Providence". And I came up with this idea for a blog. Most folks that come into my house and see the CD collection have no clue what half of it is... Inevitably, I get the same questions "where did you ever hear of these bands?!" I can never really explain it all. I usually brush it off with a joke "I get transmissions from the mothership telling me what to buy." But in reality, I've got some explaining to do. When I go through my CD collection, it's FULL of Landmark albums. Not just because that was playing at my prom, or when someone broke my heart, or some other life event. I'm talking about albums that changed the course of the History of Music.
Is that pretentious enough for you?
It may be. But none the less, that's what I'm here to do. Explain WHY all this music I've spent so much of my life with is IMPORTANT. It remains to be seen how disciplined I am with all this. I'm sure there will be digressions and personal asides, but I'll try to avoid wasting your precious reading time telling you an album is great just because "I like it". And it remains to be seen how faithfull I am in adding to this blog... I'm a busy guy, and frankly there are days where I would rather listen to the music than write about it. But this opening post is the manifesto. Let's see if Joe can make it through his collection and offer up reviews, commentary, critical theory and philosphical noodling to the void in a consistent way to make some History of the DIS/RE/Integration of Music into a narrative that somehow make's sense. And in doing so, maybe I create my own "re-release" for all this music.
By the way, please leave comments and let me know if you agree, disagree, or even if you just want to throw cybertomatos at my measly little corner of the internet... it's more interesting that way.
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