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1. She Knows – The Goon Sax
The Goon Sax are from Brisbane, Australia. ‘Sax' is clearly a reference
to ‘saxophone’, so what we’ve got going on here is a play on words. Such
punnery is usually a bad sign, but The Goon Sax are actually rather good. Or
were. They split up in 2022 after releasing three albums over a six year
period, which isn't a bad innings by any means.
It should perhaps be said that lead-vocalist Louis Forster is the son of
Robert Forster, co-founder of The Go-Betweens. He doesn't sing on 'She Knows',
James Harrison does, whose father I know nothing about. I heard this song
playing in the St Margarets Tavern at the tail end of 2023, and a year on I'm not remotely bored of it.
Made up of 25
tunes, this year's compilation comes in at around 1 hour and 20 minutes.
Compare this to the playlist I compiled in 2023, which was 24 songs long and
lasted 1 hour 43 minutes. Or the one in 2021 that amounted to just 23 songs but
went on for 1 hour and 39 minutes. This is to say that many of the tracks on
this year’s anthology are on the short side, which was not premeditated.
At 1 minute 48 seconds, 'Slab' by Wombo is a case in point. Spotify recommended
it in March, along with a load of other stuff I’ve already added to previous
playlists. Wombo are another three-piece, but from Louisville, Kentucky. Lead
singer and bassist Sydney Chadwick reckons she’s a concrete slab and ‘don't
align with nothing’. ‘Slab’ is taken from the EP of the same name, released in
2023.
A. (for Andrew) Savage is co-frontman of the indie-rock band Parquet
Courts. He’s also recorded two solo albums: 2017’s Thawing Dawn and 2023’s
Several Songs About Fire. Driving somewhere or other, Gideon Coe played ‘David's Dead’ on the radio (a BBC 6 session version, dated 7 Feb 2024) off of the latter (subsequently purchased on sale from Eel Pie Records in Twickenham). Savage has a wonderful way with words, and ‘David’s Dead’ is no exception: ‘... and I remember what you
wore: a turquoise dress and tequila grin, a mirthful mess when you walked in
the door.’
Lewsberg are from Rotterdam. I was introduced to them during the same
Spotify session that introduced me to Wombo. My musical impression of Rotterdam is derived from a squat party I went to in the year 2000 where the order of
the day was drum and bass and hard techno. Lewsberg are not that. Their sound,
if their 2023 album Out and About is anything to go by, revolves around
a Parquet Courts/Velvet Underground type of groove with words half-spoken over
the top. ‘Canines’ even adds a violin.
Another Spotify suggestion, but this one came later, in July. Vehicle
are from Leeds, and as much as I approve of the name it makes finding information on them rather difficult (try running an internet search for Vehicle
band Leeds and see what you come up with). They have an Instagram account
but that doesn’t give much away, other than that they’re snappy dressers.
‘Uncle Roy Orbison’ is the group’s second single and sounds a bit like The
Stranglers with Steve Harley standing in on vocals.
In my liner notes for 2002’s Come on Let’s Go I claim that I own most of Stereolab’s albums. Although this is strictly true there’s an awful lot of their material I don’t have, if only because of the sheer weight of it. I keep meaning to buy the first Switched On
compilation to add to volumes one and two (there are five in total) but have yet
to do so. In the meantime I’ve downloaded ‘Doubt’ off of Stunning
Debut Album, which is neither an album nor a debut; it's their second single.
'The Games You Play' by Broadcast is taken from Spell Blanket –
Collected Demos 2006–2009, the third and penultimate posthumous release
since Trish Keenan's untimely death in 2011 (not counting reissues or
repackaged compilations). It is in fact a re-working of the instrumental track
‘DDL’, a kind of noise experiment that appeared on a ‘various artists’
compilation entitled All Tomorrow's Parties 1.0 and was later included
on The Future Crayon, a collection of rarities and B-sides that
Broadcast put together in 2006. Thereafter Trish Keenan added her vocal
melody, possibly with the intention of including it on the album Broadcast were
working on when she died. Given in its nature, there’s a lo-fidelity,
unfinished quality to it that is quite pleasing. The vocal, though, is
crystal clear.
‘You Look Certain (I’m Not So Sure)’ by Mount Kimbie, featuring Andrea
Balency-Béarn, is another hangover from 2023, again heard in the St Margarets
Tavern. [As with the London Apprentice in Isleworth, the Tavern is owned by Greene King, and they often play the same tunes.] Mount Kimbie are part of the post-dubstep scene, such as there is one, and have in the past collaborated with James Blake.
I wouldn’t know if ‘You Look Certain’ is typical of this genre, but I suspect
not. In some ways, taking into consideration Balency-Béarn’s vocal, it doesn't sound too
dissimilar to what you could imagine Broadcast doing if they were still around.
It's no coincidence that I’ve put these bands next to each other, or that Stereolab precede them.
We would all do well to dress more like Dickie Greenleaf, Marge
Sherwood and Tom Ripley. Instead, modern society has variously embraced:
tattoos, fake tans, fake nails, fake eyelashes, multiple piercings, augmented
lips, re-formatted eyebrows, a panoply of beards and moustaches, the occasional
mullet, more tattoos, sportswear, trainers you can’t train in, ‘hoodies’, socks
with sliders, shoes without socks, items of clothing designed to be worn
indoors worn outdoors, an overly loose fit, an overly tight fit. Generally speaking, there is
nothing you can put your finger on, no defining look. The unifying quality is
that there is no unifying quality.
Ripley doesn’t impose on the viewer the era in which it is set –
the early 1960s. To do so would be to invite pastiche and distract from the
characterisation and the narrative. It would be equally diverting to disregard
the period altogether, so we get a subtler version of it, and probably a more
authentic one. It’s not just about what the characters wear but the whole mise-en-scene.
The visual detail isn't beholden to any particular time or place, and the cinematic
compositions might rather invite painterly comparisons to Caravaggio, Edward Hopper
or de Chirico (as well as film noir).
But the clothes! There’s not much to
them really, but if you want a description then you might reach for the adage
‘less is more’.
'Ripley'
The Belgrave Music Hall & Canteen is a bar on the northern edge of
Leeds City Centre, specialising in pizza and live music. On my visit there the DJ
played some interesting records, and one in particular caught my attention:
‘Lember Kuring’ by Yanti Bersaudara, an Indonesian group comprised of three
sisters. The self-titled album it came from was released in 1971, re-issued in
2023, and is described on Discogs as belonging to a genre called Indo-Pop. To
my ears it sounded soulful and slightly psychedelic.
I found ‘Engine Number 9’ by Wilson Pickett while trying to identify the
samples used in ‘Fade to Black’ by LA Star, a rap tune dating back to 1990, and
an old favourite of mine. She borrows two elements: the percussion that kicks
in towards the end of ‘(Get Me Back On Time) Engine Number 9 (Part II)’ off of Wilson
Pickett in Philadelphia, and the organ that features in both parts I and II
as well as ‘Engine Number 9’, which is merely a shortened version of the same
recording released as a single. The extended mix is better, but I felt the
abridged iteration was more suited to this compilation.
The soul ballad ‘That's How Strong My Love Is’, written by Roosevelt
Jamison, is covered by the Rolling Stones on their album Out of Our Heads.
That same year (1965) it also turned up on The Great Otis Redding Sings Soul
Ballads, a record that I do not possess. Jagger’s performance on ‘That's
How Strong My Love Is’ is a strong one, but because I already know it, it’s not
allowed on this playlist. Nor is Redding’s rendition; it also crops up on The
Best Of Otis Redding (1972, ATCO Records), a record that I do possess. I’d
somehow overlooked this fact, but it didn’t matter. On listening to The
Great Otis Redding Sings Soul Ballads, it was another track, ‘I Want to
Thank You’, that grabbed me. Highlights include Steve Cropper's guitar
and the way Redding enunciates the line 'all of your sweet loving charm' at the
end of the second and third verses.
Not for the first time, I tried tracking down the samples used by Billy
Woods on the 2022 track 'Haarlem' (still no joy). In the process I somehow
ended up listening to 'Happy Survival' by Childish Gambino, featuring
Khruangbin, from his latest album Bando Stone and the New World. The
tune is credited to both Khruangbin and a Nigerian musician by the name of
Eddie Okwedy, who produced the song in its original form in the early 1970s. It
is entirely appropriate that I found the song this way, given that the Billy
Woods record from whence 'Haarlem’ comes from – Aethiopes – deals with
slavery and colonialism, while 'Happy Survival' concerns the effects of the
Nigerian Civil War, which was indirectly caused by the very same thing. 'Happy
Survival' is an example of (Igbo) Highlife, a genre that originated in Ghana
around the turn of the 20th century, combining traditional melodic and rhythmic
structures with western instrumentation.
The Rising Storm was a garage rock band from Andover, Massachusetts,
known for their 1967 album, Calm Before. A lot of bands of this ilk are recognised
for individual songs rather than whole albums, which makes them something of
an anomaly. An original pressing of Calm Before can fetch a four-figure
sum, and it's hard to understand
why. It is certainly a good record, but is it any better than those of their
contemporaries: by The Sonics, The Seeds or The Left Banke? Is it just down to
scarcity? In any case, it’s worth a listen, even if over half the tunes are
covers. Written by The Rising Storm’s guitarist, Rich Weinberg, ‘The
Rain Falls Down’ isn’t one of them.
Rome
There’s still room for paths less travelled, and I followed him down a
few of them. The most intriguing was Nelson Angelo E Joyce by Nelson
Angelo and Joyce Moreno, a one-off collaboration between two Brazilian singer-songwriters,
released in 1972. It’s got a sort of folky bossa nova vibe to it, with another
hint of psychedelia. The track you find here – ‘Tudo Comeca De Novo’ – is
reminiscent of ‘Friends’ by Led Zeppelin, with added percussion, a softer
vocal, and bells.
In 2023 I discovered the Dunedin Sound. It was The Clean that did it, and Spotify soon started suggesting other bands that were part of the same scene, like The Chills, whom I had heard of, and Look Blue Go Purple, whom I hadn’t. The Chills are probably the best known of all the Dunedin bands, as became evident from the press coverage that followed when founding member and principle songwriter Martin Phillipps died in the middle of the year. The way defined by him in ‘This is the Way’ is to, ‘Fill your head with alcohol, comic books and drugs.’ When I was listening to this in late spring I assumed he was pointing a negative finger at people who withdraw into themselves. Turns out that although Phillipps had been living clean for quite some while, it hadn’t always been that way, which was a contributing factor towards his relatively premature death. The lyrics, then, may well have been directed towards himself, and bring with them a sense of tragedy and loss.
In 2023 I discovered the Dunedin Sound. It was The Clean that did it, and Spotify soon started suggesting other bands that were part of the same scene, like The Chills, whom I had heard of, and Look Blue Go Purple, whom I hadn’t. The Chills are probably the best known of all the Dunedin bands, as became evident from the press coverage that followed when founding member and principle songwriter Martin Phillipps died in the middle of the year. The way defined by him in ‘This is the Way’ is to, ‘Fill your head with alcohol, comic books and drugs.’ When I was listening to this in late spring I assumed he was pointing a negative finger at people who withdraw into themselves. Turns out that although Phillipps had been living clean for quite some while, it hadn’t always been that way, which was a contributing factor towards his relatively premature death. The lyrics, then, may well have been directed towards himself, and bring with them a sense of tragedy and loss.
I found out about Canadian singer-songwriter Jon McKiel after indulging the Spotify algorithm,
prompted by the realisation that my compilation was short on minutes. Despite
having never self-imposed the stipulation, I also wanted more tunes that were
current, just because I think it’s a good way to anchor my playlists in time. ‘The Fix’, from McKiel’s latest album Hex, helps on both counts.
‘Sin’ by Rick White and the Sadies was discovered earlier, in June, but serves
the same purpose. They’re also Canadian but have more of an alternative-country
thing going on.
Look Blue Go Purple were one of the Dunedin scene’s later bands, and as a
result less well known. This might also be attributable to the fact that they
were an all-female group and thus not taken as seriously as some of their peers
– or didn’t ask to be, or didn’t want to. It certainly wasn’t down to the
music, which is great. They only released three EPs, all on Flying Nun Records
– the Dunedin Sound’s primary means of communication – repackaged in 1991 as Compilation,
and again in 2017 as Still Bewitched. ‘As Does the Sun’ is fairly
typical of Look Blue Go Purple’s work, but maybe not so much of the Dunedin
Sound. What sets it and them apart is Norma O'Malley’s flute, as if Jefferson
Airplane had been reincarnated as a Sarah Records’ band.
Talking of which, after I finished reading These Things Happen: The Sarah Records Story
by Jane Dufus – quite a hefty tome – I finally made a start on In the Jingle
Jangle Jungle: Keeping Time with the Brian Jonestown Massacre. Aside from
the amusing anecdotes, it describes in some style what it’s like to be young
and skint but somehow having the time of your life, of not being in a position
to have separate summer and winter wardrobes and how a particular item of
vintage clothing can mean so much. Such was my appreciation, I thought I may as
well check out some of Joel Gion’s own music. I went for Apple Bonkers, and
it’s surprisingly good. ‘Dart’ is its best track, which is comparable to something
off of Their Satanic Majesties Request, replete with Mellotron.
Readers of my liner notes might recall how the 2020 Tour de France
highlights on ITV4 contributed to that year's compilation: specifically, ‘Broadway
Jungle’ by The Maytals, which played over the end credits for Stage 13. (They
might also recall the phrase 'Readers of my liner notes might recall' which I
used in the corresponding liner notes: ‘Readers of my liner notes might recall that
The Poets kicked off my 2005 anthology with “That’s the Way It’s Got to Be”.’) Whoever
makes these thematic connections normally does a good job, as they did on this
year’s Stage 9. Stage 9 incorporated no less than fourteen separate gravelled
sections, much to the consternation of the cyclists challenging for the general
classification. Chaos reigned. Entering one of the steeper, narrower sectors,
many of the riders lost their momentum on the chalky surface and could be seen
frantically pushing their bikes up hill. Where traction was sustained, dust
kicked up all around them. Hence ‘Dust’ by the instantly recognisable Parquet
Courts.
Musical artistes
I have seen live two times or more: Stereolab, Tindersticks, Pavement, Pulp,
Corduroy, Delta, Dylan Rabbit, The Fall, The Research, Field Music, Weird War,
Chain & the Gang, Escape-ism, Comet Gain, Herman Dune, Holiday Ghosts,
Sleaford Mods, Public Enemy, The Clientele. And, as of October 2024, The Lovely
Eggs.
My partner and I went to see The
Lovely Eggs at The Garage in July 2021, an event that was scheduled for April
2020 but pushed back, numerous times, because of Covid. That had been a lot of
fun, so this year we decided to go and see them again. It is that sense of ‘fun’
which sometimes gets in the way of the music. What with the wacky online
presence (see EGGS TV), amusing song titles and the duo’s good nature,
you can sometimes forget just how good The Lovely Eggs really are.
Less than a week later I was off to Albarracin in Spain with my
bouldering pals. We flew into Valencia on the morning of the 30th October, the
day after a catastrophic flood that resulted in over 230 dead. We hadn’t known
the extent of it when we left England, or even immediately after we landed. The
devastation was revealed to us once we’d picked up our hired van and driven
away from the airport and towards the centre of Valencia itself (which was
pretty much unaffected). From there we began our steady ascent through the
mountains towards Alabarracin. The Florist was in control of both the vehicle
and the music, as he had been when he’d driven us to Fontainebleau in
2022. It didn't begin well, and after a few of us complained he put on some
randomised playlist more in keeping with atmosphere engendered by our
surroundings: long roads, rolling hills, wide open plains, that sort of thing.
This was the point at which I became aware of Sam Evian.
‘Tell Me Myths’ by SHOLTO (all caps artist’s own) was something Huey
Morgan played on the radio. Adding it to my playlist was impulsive, but
I was still short on minutes and it’s another contemporary release. Hard to describe precisely what it is, but SHOLTO’s Bandcamp page alludes to a fondness for ‘jazz, soul, and
‘60s and ‘70s soundtracks’. Gilles Peterson would probably play it – probably has
played it.
Bilbao
The week before I had spoken briefly with Comet Gain's Rachel Evans at
The Garage (to see The Gories), who warned me that her band was under-rehearsed. (I think she vaguely recognised me from when I'd accosted her
at the Make Up gig at The Dome in 2023). She needn't have worried. It was a great show and triggered a detailed investigation into Comet Gain's back catalogue,
filling in the gaps. A good place to start, for anyone with similar
inclinations, is Broken Record Prayers. A collection of singles,
B-sides, Peel Session tracks and various oddities, it includes 'Look at You Now
(You're Crying)', their contribution to Fields and Streams, a double-CD
compilation released on Kill Rock Stars in 2002. The song starts off
predictably enough but at the beginning of the second verse descends into a wall of noise and distortion. Against this backdrop, Rachel Evans holds steady,
her intonation just right.
Jeff Clarke is yet another Canadian but resides in Berlin, or at least that's where he
recorded the single ‘Palliative Care’. According to his record label, Jeff's
recent output represents ‘a stripped-down, melancholic change of pace’ from his
previous work with garage rock outfit Demon’s Claws. I infer from this that
their brand of garage rock must be quite different from The Rising Storm’s. At
any rate, Bretford Records’ description seems apt, and it's exactly the sort of
note I like to end a compilation on. Unless, that is, I happen upon anything in Bilbao at the end of the month.
[Edit: I didn't.]
[Listen to here.]
