The Purple Tux

With just enough education to perform.

Open Season by British Sea Power.

I was scared to listen to this album, the sophomore album by one of my favorite up and coming bands. BSP’s debut album, the sardonically titled The Decline Of British Sea Power was, for my money, an instant classic and one of the best debut albums in recent memory (yeah, I’ll even go out and say I like it more than Franz Ferdinand). I suppose BSP might be compared favorably to a band such as Interpol, only with more of a British slant. Maybe a little less Pixies and a little more Joy Division. Comparisons to Joy Division certainly peppered reviews of their first album, but BSP were far from mere post punk wannabes. Revivalist tones seeped through the ferocious and frenetic guitar attacks and furious drum beats, but BSP also knew when to allow the music to convey less intensity and more melody, as evidenced by tracks such as "Blackout." It was deeply engrossing music, appealing to my sensibilities for loudness and softness, and I listened to The Decline of BSP on a regular basis for at least three or four months after I bought it.

So it was with trepidation when I first popped in Open Season by these crazy British men. The opening track, "It Ended On An Oily Stage," certainly introduces the overall tone of the rest of the record. Unlike the choral intro "Men Together Today" of The Decline of BSP, which led into the rowdy and punkish "Apologies To Insect Life" (and its amusing lyrical tribute to Fyodor Dostoevsky), Open Season comes right out with a rather catchy pop tune. Indeed, Open Season is utterly different in tone from The Decline Of BSP. I sure didn’t predict that the band would go in this direction. I expected something more wild and uncontrollable, and I was caught by surprise upon discovering the melodic beauty of their second album. The exciting rhythm section still does its job but now the melodies have caught up, without losing any of the passion of the previous release.

Eleven tracks and each of them are excellent. There’s nothing here quite so wild as an "Apologies To Insect Life," but BSP are anything but one-dimensional. The guitars can still get loud, but there’s a lot of purpose and control with every distortion and special effect. Dig the riff on "Please Stand Up," one of my favorite cuts. It’s harmonious and majestic, conveying, with the lyrics (“If there's anyone asking, did you get a rush? / There's no point in asking, it wasn't enough / There's nobody else here, so please stand up”) a melancholy sense of complacency that is infinitely listenable, universal, and personal at the same time.

Lyrically, BSP still retain the humor and the wit of their first album. Case in point: the ninth track, "Oh Larsen B," which is quite possibly the most touching tribute to an iceberg. Yes. An iceberg. For a lesser band, a song about an iceberg might be played purely for laughs, or at best, may be a throwaway B-Side. BSP play it straight and the results are stunning. It’s a well-paced, driving melodic rock song with amusing and yet strangely emotional lyrics, delivered with just enough sincerity and humor by lead singer Yan. When he sings, "You're fractured and cold but your heart is unbroken / My favourite foremost coastal Antarctic shelf," it sounds like a metaphor for encouraging a depressed friend. And yet, with the following two lines, "Oh Larsen B, oh you can fall on me / Oh Larsen B, desalinate the barren sea," it’s clear that the friend in need is the iceberg itself, which leads to an even more fascinating subtext in the lyrics. It's a bizarre topic for a song, to be sure, but it's unique, pleasant to the ear, and far more touching than I can possibly describe it to be.

I've Got A Taste For Bloc

[This entry's probably the longest of all the ones I have piled up because it was the first one I wrote, way back in June. Also, I had to add a little bit more after all the time had elapsed. Plus the remix album came out, too. You can save yourself the trouble of reading my post by simply buying Silent Alarm by Bloc Party and listening to it over and over until you start feeling it. Then you gotta keep on listening to it.]

“Silent Alarm,” by Bloc Party.

Those of you who know my tastes and artistic leanings should know that I have a huge fondness for British music, and rock in particular. I’m not gonna lie; all it takes to get my attention is to market a young band as the Next Big Thing From Britain. I might not be an expert on indie British bands or anything, but I like to think that I’m familiar with most well-known British groups. Probably, my fondness for the U.K. began when I was a lad. My pop’s favorite music was British Invasion stuff, like the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, the Who, and a host of other groups I can’t really name at the moment. I definitely grew up listening to tons of Beatles songs, so I just have a big appreciation for British music. Enough reminiscing.

As you should have surmised, Bloc Party are British, and according to some quarters, they are The Next Big British Thing. Or maybe they were until this album came out. Maybe they still are being hailed. I don’t know. I haven’t read the latest couple issues of Q Magazine (quite possibly the greatest music magazine in the history of mankind) or NME or Melody Maker. Bloc Party sound like a less quirky, more straight forward Franz Ferdinand. Not that I want to pigeonhole Bloc Party as FF clones, but the current indie rock/semi-new wave-ish sound is a good starting point. I will say that Bloc Party’s songs tend to be more structured than the average “it” band. There’s less weirdness and more accessibility. The guitars are loud and cackle with electric grit but there’s less dissonance and more melody.

The problem is that few of the songs are particularly infectious or catchy on first listen. That was the first thing I noticed the first couple times listening to the album. Most of it sounded like typical modern post punk rock and roll. The hooks were few and far between, or they just weren’t hooky at all. The album as a whole, I thought, was passionate enough and definitely listenable, but there just wasn’t that extra bit of juice to raise it to the next level in my view.

I basically decided to buy the album after hearing just one particular song: “So Here We Are,” a chiming, rising, slower song with some of the most pleasant and subtle vocals on the record. The track starts off with layered electrics that continue throughout the song and build a steady sense of longing. Eventually, the rhythm section is introduced slowly, and a break in the song at the climax provides a chance for Kele Okereke’s vocals to soar and reach a pointed crescendo at the high point of the music. Certainly, my description probably makes this fine tune sound like an ordinary wankfest, but it’s really quite a beautiful and emotive piece of work that manages to grab me for almost four minutes of bliss. It’s less forumulaic than I make it out to be and the intense build of the song is organic, not mechanical.

Anyway, I suppose I was expecting most of the record to follow the pattern of “So Here We Are,” but the truth is, nothing else on the disc sounds anything like it. Most of the tunes here rock a little harder. And there ain’t nothing wrong with rocking a little hard.

After numerous listens to “Silent Alarm,” I found my initial impression to be quite off the mark. I had initially felt that the album was a droner, that far too many songs sounded too similar, and that there weren’t enough catchy hooks to make it fun to listen to. After a bunch more listens, I still feel that the songs sound too similar and that there aren’t enough fun and catchy hooks. However, this album is not boring in the least. It takes some time to grow on a listener. The greatest strength of the band has got to be their rhythm section. Drum and bass players do an excellent job of bringing this music to life, and the rhythm section definitely emits the passion of the music’s soul. If the rhythm section weren’t so intense, this probably could be a boring album. Instead, by hiding the heart of the record within its danceable rhythms, Bloc Party have made a record with a good deal of depth to it. It takes several listens to get to the core of the music and to absorb everything- the melodies, the beats, the bass, the vocals- simultaneously.

I doubt this album will be well-received by those who don’t have the patience to invest themselves in the music. (It’s good enough that it’s fun to listen to once in a while, but to seriously get into it will probably take a little patience.) It’s simply not poppy enough, at least not by American standards. But for anyone open to listening to some mainstream British rock with a credible indie-rock sound, this is a good place to start. It’s a worthy purchase because the songs don’t grow old after three weeks. It’s a record with musical depth thanks to the beats and the bass. And one utterly brilliant song in “So Here We Are.” The album is worth it for that one song.

Addendum 1- Okay, I’m writing this post script in the middle of September and everything you just read up to here, I had written back at the end of June (it was just chilling in my hard drive for all this time). As such, I’ve had another two months to spend time with this marvelous album and I have to say that some of what I wrote above (especially all the negative-sounding bits) is rubbish. But in the interest of keepin’ it real, I’m posting all that other stuff as well, and I’m writing this while I’m on a Bloc Party high, so make of this what you will.

Obviously, I wouldn’t be writing this post script if I haven’t still been listening to Silent Alarm. The fact that I’m still listening to it rather regularly even though I bought it something like four months ago should be enough of a clue as to how much I love this record. I can’t really explain it, but a few weeks ago, maybe a month ago, I finally “got” it.

I think after listening to so much music over the years, I’ve become used to listening to music that wasn’t immediately ear-catching in the poppy sense (read: I discovered alternative, indie, and underground like any good college kid). I think I’ve become so used to listening to music that would typically be branded as “difficult” by the average person* that when I am approached by music specifically designed to succeed as a hot single, I get a bit confused.

*In other words, I’m one of those guys who loves “Kid A” and knows in his heart, without a doubt, that “Kid A” is one of the greatest albums ever.

I am now convinced that every song on Silent Alarm is very good, if not stellar. Call it reverse-disenchantment. It took a while for me to get the hooks, but as an album that aims to make each track a potential single, it’s a success. Typically, I’m an album man, and that means that a lot of times, there are weird, random songs on an album that would never fly on the radio, but I like ‘em anyway, especially in the context of the album. Other people might not dig album tracks (and they’ve even invented dirty little f-words like “filler” – geez, I hate that term, but that’s a rant for another day), but it’s all part of the hustle and flow, son.

But with Silent Alarm, the idea behind the album seems to be the notion of every single song being able to stand on its own, each one a pleasant warning for you to LISTEN TO BLOC PARTY. At fourteen tracks and fifty-four minutes, this makes the album a bit long for my taste, but I certainly can’t fault the band for packing in as much good material as they do. I mean, what song could I possibly cut off the album? I don’t think there is a weak track (although it would have been nice for “Tulips,” one of their best B-sides, to make an appearance here). Every song is worthy of being a single or on an iPod commercial. From the blistering, intense, and rousing opener, “Like Eating Glass” to the angular guitar attacks of “Helicopter” to the melodic and emotionally subdued, yet hopeful “This Modern Love” to the haunting closer “Compliments,” there isn’t a boring moment to be found. “Filler” has no meaning in Silent Alarm.

Objectively speaking, as a debut album, I’d consider this stronger than something like Franz Ferdinand’s debut (which I really liked a lot). Maybe Silent Alarm as a whole doesn’t stand up to other fairly recent debut albums from bands such as The Arcade Fire or British Sea Power, but I probably like it just as much as those two. If I were to go into detail as to the spirit of every song I like and what I like about it, I could be writing fourteen separate essays tonight.

Addendum 2- I add this particular post script on the night of Thursday, September 15.

You know what albums came out this week? Quite a few, including new ones from Paul McCartney (produced by Nigel Godrich, too!), Sigur Ros, and a Bloc Party remix album. (Oh yeah. And if by some chance Mike is reading this, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that the new Switchfoot album also came out this week. I’m assuming you’ve already got it and you love it, but report back to me anyway.)

I never, ever buy remix albums. In my college career, I hardly even downloaded any remixed tracks. Outside of a small handful (the Daft Punk remix of Franz’s “Take Me Out” being an unforgettable and recent example), it’s rare that a remix sticks in my mind, and rarer still that a remix be essential listening. I suppose hip-hop does remixes all the time, and those can be pretty good, but it’s a different type of art, I think, to remix a rock and roll song. And I’ve had enough experience checking out techno remixes of rock songs, which can be pretty terrible. Don’t believe me? Ask me sometime to hear a techno remix of Blur’s “Song 2.” It’s so awful, I keep a copy of it on my computer, and I listen to it periodically to remind myself why I hate techno remixes.

Getting on with it, I ended up buying a copy of the Bloc Party remix album, appropriately titled “Silent Alarm Remixed.” As you can imagine, it’s a track-by-track reinterpretation of their debut album. Some of the remix producers were familiar to me. I’d heard Ladytron, M83, Four Tet, Mogwai, and Nick Zinner of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The rest of them were mysteries to me. Fortunately, no Black Eyed Peas and no Puff Daddy (or whatever he’s calling himself these days. Who gives a…) in sight. How refreshing.

I’ve listened to it a few times now. I think it’s worth getting, even if you don’t have the original album. None of the remixes are bad; a few of them fall short of the glory of the originals, but most of them do bring proper homage. As for what to expect, most of these remixes tend to fall close to the glitch-hop sound, along with some dub, and decent and even arty club grooves.

Some of the longer remixes are a bit repetitious (the “Erol Alkan’s Calling Your Dub” mix being a particular offender), but that may not bother some people. Other than a couple of repetitious bits, then, I’d say these are pretty good remixes, good enough to be considered actual reinterpretations in some cases (see: the “Luno” remix featuring Death From Above 1979).

The most important thing, to me, is that most of this remix album sounds remarkably fresh. It definitely helps that the producers had such quality source material. Most of the producers manage to bring out and accentuate the hooks and highlight moments of each song, and they often do it while remaining true to the spirit of the original song (a fine example is the remix of “This Modern Love”). Four Tet’s remix of “So Here We Are” is also fittingly beautiful.

Music Is My Radar

It’s been quite some time since I last posted about music. I’ve been listening to a lot of stuff lately so I figure it’s time to post and promote the good stuff I have been bumping. Having a blogspot with a readership in the single digits may seem like I have no audience, but the truth is, the few devoted readers ought to have enough loyalty that they will trust me. My loyal readers will surely be swayed by my recommendations. In fact, I expect all three of you loyal readers to rush out and buy some of this good music I’m about to discuss.

Right now, I am thinking about which albums to write about. Well, I’m done thinking about which ones. I’m just gonna write about albums released in the year 2005. I have gotten a bunch of stuff over the past several months and a lot of it is actually new music released this year. [Um, if that little intro sounded weird to you, it's because I wrote it in MS Word like 4 or 5 months ago as a placeholder, only to realize now that I have no motivation to edit and update it. On with the show, then.]

1. “Anniemal,” by Annie. This album garnered plenty of street cred and indie hype when it was released in Europe sometime last year. Critics pointed out Annie’s tragic backstory- the Norwegian pop singer came out with a sleeper hit a couple years ago and was poised to record an album, but her producer and boyfriend suffered from a terminal disease and tragically passed away. Understandably, Annie took some time off from music before picking herself up for her debut album. It was generally hailed as a superb debut. The American release came out several months ago and it’s easy to see what all the fuss is about.

While I admit it’s kinda weird to throw around terms like “indie pop” when that sounds like such a contradiction, it’s tough to talk about her music without the somewhat pretentious term. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t need phrases like that, but I guess we have to just swallow it. So. Indie pop. Because Anniemal is a prime example of pop music- it’s designed to appeal to as many listeners as possible. And yet, for now at least, it’s also hopelessly indie because Annie lacks the big label marketing muscle to promote her image to the masses (that, and she doesn’t try to sell her music by exposing her body).

When it comes to outright pop music, what I really care about is two things: 1) it’s gotta be catchy without being too childish and 2) production. The corollary (rule 2a) would be that the music have at least some substance to it. The reason why I never cared for and never respected the music of most of this generation’s pop singers (Spears, Aguilera, boy bands, the Simpsons, Lavigne, Clarkson, et al) is because all of those pop singers rely far too heavily on an obviously fabricated image… which honestly wouldn’t be that big of a deal to me if their music had any substance whatsoever. But trite, predictable production values (always designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator) have ruined their pop. [That’s why I think “Since U Been Gone” is a poor song while I think “Hollaback Girl” is one of the year’s best singles. “Hollback Girl” features a really great Neptunes beat with a funky horn section, one that somehow melds Queen and hip-hop, while “Since U Been Gone” simply apes every convention used by mid-nineties middle of the road pop/rock bands (y’know, like Sister friggin’ Hazel and such) and drenches it up in a post-Alanis Morrisette, Matrix (the production team, not the movie) sheen.]

Annie doesn’t have any of those problems. Image? Hell, you don’t even see her entire face on the album cover art. Most importantly, the production (even featuring some work by fellow Norwegians Royksopp) and the tunes are great. Her voice is kinda thin, but it manages to do the job.

Dig the bouncy bubblegum pop of the aptly titled “Chewing Gum.” Dig the orchestral flourishes, dramatic and far-off sounding drums, and invigorating studio tweebs and vibes of “Always Too Late,” one of Anniemal’s best tracks. Dig, dig, dig the pulsing bassline and swirling synths and driving drums and subtle guitar of “Heartbeat,” an incredible song which contains an intense build-up big enough to get lost in. It may well be regarded as Anniemal’s defining moment.

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