TheBrit and TheYank

TheBrit’s Number 8 of 2008

I am prone to gushing enthusiastically on most music reviews because I usually only write about music I enjoy. Still, I need to get something out of the way quickly: The Amber Sessions is magnificent. Here’s why:

Jo Gabriel’s album lives alongside its darker sibling The Last Drive In. They’re both naked instrumental recordings borne out of musical passion - a boundless urge to create and to express emotion. The Amber Sessions is also a 4 track affair, but definitely not lo-fi (apart from occasional tape drop-out.) Indeed, the unexpected richness and depth of the recordings is to be admired, and yes, it’s stunning when played loud.

Synthetic string pads and processed loops form the bedrock of much of the album. Jo’s piano accompanies their shifting sounds, diverging at will or brushing across them. Although centred around progressions, it darts off periodically to embrace song structure. Subtle dissonance emphasises the melodies and sometimes the piano falls away completely, to let the accompaniments peek through, unadorned. These tiny moments are breathtaking. This clash of the simulated with the real is critical to the mood and success of the album.

Considerable attention has been given to the sequencing of the pieces, so whilst it’s possible to cherry pick individual tracks that work on their own, the album is probably intended to be heard as a complete work. It can be intensely consuming. Curiously, The Amber Sessions also excels as ambient music - the choice is yours.

Introduction to this landscape comes in the form of the opening tracks Sway, Flicker and Crush. Sway immediately generates tension due to the slowish attack on the lower strings, which rub against the organ drones and chord-less piano lines. The melody changes subtly, incorporating additional pads to round off this slow starter. The shorter Flicker picks up the pace, but cuts back on the melody. Here, little sonic experiments begin to emerge - a trait which considerably enriches the second half of the album. Crush uses abrupt organ stabs and delayed piano to tease out variations in rhythm, relishing the space it has been given.

Delightful though these are it’s only when Moments Like Drops arrives that the first fully realised tune unfolds. Here the piano deviates from its previous excursions through greater variation in tone and dynamics. Only a cycling plucked instrument keeps it company. Savage Bliss continues on this new course, re-introducing the organ and strings, then constructing recurring cascades of harmony and modulated tempos. By now the importance of those first three tracks becomes obvious.

Passing / Arriving temporarily returns to that isolation with crumpled samples and screeches but chooses to re-invent itself twice, firstly as lounge music, which confines the piano to one side, then again by adding strings, becoming more elaborate and beautiful in the process. This stunning piece boasts the vital links between what has already been heard and what is to come.

In the meantime, the strings and guitar that open The Sun King tempt three times before the long-awaited keyboard arrives. When it does, this stereo mix contrasts with its recent restriction. Summoning is all about percussive rhythm but it’s important not to ignore the counterpoint which at times becomes the dominant melody.

Mistress of Time begins the four tracks which gradually build to complete the album. Here Jo plays busily alongside a dusty operatic loop. It’s initially unsettling, but through familiarity these two resolve their differences. What follows next is more remarkable: Juno blooms in the wake of Passing / Arriving but nuzzles up to a scratchy, detuned cello which is granted its own little solo for the coda.

The final two pieces, Amber and Mothlight unexpectedly replace the strings with snippets of renaissance music. Amber is the baby of the two - a sleepy diversion from Juno’s perkiness. Mothlight develops further: the ebb and flow of tension that threads carefully through the album is finally released, by using two or three individual piano tracks wrapped around Thomas Tallis’ acclaimed motet Spem in alium. This brings the album to a dazzling and deeply satisfying conclusion.

Jo Gabriel’s most widely known album, Island, is set firmly in the mould of singer-songwriter. Only the brief instrumental If Not hints towards The Amber Sessions and if you love Island I implore you to investigate this too, and indeed her new one Fools and Orphans. The Amber Sessions is a fascinating complex piece of work that becomes more impressive with each listen.

Jo Gabriel - official website
Jo Gabriel - The Amber Sessions

This review originally appeared on my personal blog last year and has been changed slightly for publishing here.

TheBrit’s Number 9 of 2008

Miss Kittin first came to my attention when she worked with Felix da Housecat on his 2001 album Kittenz and Thee Glitz, which was one of the first electroclash albums - a genre with which she is still associated, but if anything electro house would be more appropriate now. A more substantial collaboration came that year in the form of First Album, co-written with The Hacker, compiling tracks written since 1997. It exploited her coolly detached spoken vocal style, made more enticing by her French accent. But Caroline Hervé is a DJ at heart, having mixed since 1994. Inevitably, as is the case with all DJs nowadays, this led to her debut solo album I Com in 2004 which gave her a greater opportunity to experiment and bring forth her varied musical influences. Whilst critically acclaimed, I Com was merely a launch pad for BatBox, which arrived last year.

Its cover, designed by Emily The Strange creator Rob Reger, bares black bat motifs, and this style lives deep within the sound of the album - stretching back over 25 years to its birth in house, goth and synthpop, although this is unclear from the opening track. Kittin is High retreads early Detroit techno, with splashy percussive loops, but adds sophistication via evocative vocals, sweeping ravey basslines and a blissful refrain. These gorgeously sung but wordless backing vocals, give a clue as to the main progression on this album: Miss Kittin has started singing and I wished she’d begun sooner.

Because it suits her music. She’s admitted that her music is technical and listening to many of the tracks on this album gives a strong indication that everything is assembled with care and precision. For example, the interlocking drums, clipped percussion and mangled leads of Metalhead all blend together brilliantly, whilst not forgetting the dance-floor. It would sound fairly cold were it not for the smallest vocal loops that occasionally lighten the mood. Elsewhere, at the other extreme, she demands we focus on her voice: Wash ‘n’ Dry is a ‘dust yourself off’ ballad, delivered and mixed torch-song style, and although awash with effects, it makes for a daring addition to the album. Later, final song Lightmaker is more naked, summoning comparisons with downbeat, played out Depeche Mode songs.

There’s still evidence of her earlier music. The sweat and leather post-gig romp of Solidasarockstar adds her already established vocal style to reggae techno and an incisive knowledge of how pop music works. Her influences are quite obvious, although maybe not to her: DJs have to really learn the tracks they mix and the songs she’s mixed over the past 14 years have left their mark, not merely directly, but through their own progenitors. Play Me A Tape gathers these years together then adds icy, misshapen chords to turn a song about building playlists for a loved one into something darkly romantic.

BatBox works best when Miss Kittin’s more upfront about its intents. Grace provides the first instance, applying a throbbing guitar bass-line (last used to good effect on Juliet’s album Random Order - and whatever happened to her?) to a clinically crisp prominent groove, evoking memories of late-80s goth clubs. If its mix was dirty and full of reverb you’d easily detect the musical DNA of The Sisters of Mercy. This heritage is clearer on Barefoot Tonight, her paean to live gigs, where the claps are tight and the hi-hats hiss. But Pollution of the Mind is where the collision of genres works best; using an arpeggiated, delayed synth bass to drive Teutonic rhythms which are then elevated by her cooing, dreamy vocals.

Her love of music appears more genuine than most club DJ’s turned album artists, who cynically adopt musical tricks to generate emotional responses. Consequently BatBox is better for it. Especially in its most impressive song Machine Joy. Everything is focused, club oriented and heavy, but over the top Miss Kittin half-sings her praises to the abandonment one feels when locked inside a song, either as creator or listener, only to conclude “Joy is in the rhythm of the machine.” Which is why I’ve written about it here.

Play it black.

Miss Kittin - official website
Miss Kittin - BatBox (official website, Amazon UK, Amazon US, iTunes)

TheBrit’s Number 10 of 2008

Ryan Lott’s debut album is one borne of rumination. His classical training brings real instruments and cut-up electronica together in a mix of broken beats, perfectly reflecting the nightmarish scenarios that we find ourselves in occasionally: lying awake at night, where order can barely be found out of the chaos of our thoughts and fears. This is emphasised further through the songs themselves. One word titles convey the bleakness of everything and the lyrics, which are mostly repeated phrases, endlessly plead or question.

But within each song (if one can call them that) there is musical variety. This allows us to continually re-interpret those phrases, without perhaps finding out what their true subject is. In this respect they end up speaking to us, and Son Lux’s walls and mazes become our own. So, after some time away from this album, re-listening to it yesterday, I discovered that Ryan’s words could in fact be my own.

Strangely, as it turns out, for most of the album it’s not contemplation on oneself. It’s about another. The proper lead song Weapons makes this clear “Lay down your weapons, let me in through your open wounds.” A line that becomes more powerful as it repeats, accompanied by piano, arpeggiated synths and cacophonous trip-hop. Other songs comfort and praise. Wither bears the line “You don’t have to be afraid” and Stand varies its backing to emphasise the thanks in “You stand between me and all of my enemies.”

Son Lux bears the scars (and scares) of relationships going wrong. There’s nihilism behind Betray’s curiously upbeat but languid lushness, conveyed through piano, flute, strings and bass “You will betray me baby, and I will be true.” And Tell is even more empty “Tell me everything you want to tell me. I have nothing to say.” Throughout the album Ryan’s vocals are creased with dispair, burdened through a life of, and in, ruins.

However, what all of these songs do is build a foundation for the surprising finale. War changes tack, albeit with the same instrumentation, but with vocal harmonies and in extraordinary celebration. And the last track Epilogue sends us away with that in our hearts.

What interests me most about this album is that others have concentrated on the music - in particular the attention given to how each song’s melodies and rhythms evolve, breakdown and rebuild. When in actual fact, it’s all about the words. If you listen to this and think it’s merely an album to put on and chill out to, you’ve completely missed its point.

Son Lux - MySpace
Son Lux - Last.fm
Son Lux - At War With Walls and Mazes (Amazon UK, Amazon US, iTunes)

Maybe it was the weight of expectation that led me to conclude that Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ previous album Show Your Bones wasn’t worth many repeat listens. That expectation had come in the form of the explosive lead single Gold Lion, which I played five times in a row after I downloaded it. But I have a saying: “Always be suspicious of albums that begin with the lead single.” Not very catchy, I’ll admit, but I refer you to Madonna’s album American Life for proof that I am right. (Die Another Day doesn’t count, by the way.)

Except that I’m wrong with respect to It’s Blitz! because whilst they have played the same lead single trick here (with the shivery dance of Zero), the rest of the album matches, if not surpasses it. Their identifiable sound is still present, but fused to an electronic backbone accompanied by driving percussion and unashamed use of synth pads. Or so it may appear on casual listen, because instead they’ve gone in the opposite direction to Ladytron (who turn synthesizers into guitars) by mutating the sounds generated by their physical instruments and shipping in the widescreen electronic soundscape that made Ladytron’s Witching Hour so powerful.

The overall effect when it works best is therefore nothing short of overwhelming. Skeletons’ shimmering bagpipe ballad for example, and its schizophrenic successor Dull Life, which plays the soft / loud card very effectively. By the time the opening piano of Runaway appears, you can make sense of why Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ ended up sounding like this and it suits them perfectly. Karen O’s voice has the power and range to stand out against Nick Zinner’s keyboard and guitar backdrops and Brian Chase’s drums decorate, drive and tumble as required. And, for TV on The Radio fans unconvinced by these guys - you know who you are *wink*, Tunde Adebimpe provides backing vocals to Dragon Queen.

I’m not sure this is enough to make me go back to reconsider Show Your Bones, it’s probably best for me to leave that one alone, but this is a leap forward in their sound and their ambition. One of the best albums of this year, so far.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - official website
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - It’s Blitz! (Amazon UK, Amazon US, iTunes, Spotify)