Number 1 of 2004 — Cinerama
Something has to be really good to enrapture me. To quote someone else: “Is It Just Me or Is Everything Shit?”. Way back in my indie-discovering past, I bought an album by Dead Can Dance and I was suitably impressed. Much to the surprise of my flat mates, I bought their entire back catalog. A ready made collection documenting their evolution from their first penny-pinching synth-approximations of acoustic instruments that they could only afford on later releases. Paving the way for Lisa Gerrard’s career as a acclaimed soundtrack composer and vocalist.
I felt the same way about Cinerama last year, so my favourite album of 2004 is not just one album, it’s five.
Formed after David Gedge put The Wedding Present on hold in 1997, Cinerama came into being with David and his girlfriend Sally Murrell. Possibly the most appropriate name that a band such as this could have, simply because everything they have written seems made for films, either as musical accompaniment to the films of the 1960s and 70s that are quintissentially of their time, or because the lyrics are visually arresting that you can make up the scenes in your head whilst listening to them.
My introduction to Cinerama came with their 2002 (and latest) album Torino. But for a full appreciation, it’s best to start at the beginning: Va Va Voom, and then move forward.
Released in 1998 Va Va Voom features the core Cinerama duo, plus The Church’s Marty Wilson-Piper and Emma Pollock from The Delgados. As someone who isn’t (wasn’t?) a fan of The Wedding Present, Va Va Voom is a revelation as it exposes David Gedge’s incredible songwriting skills which were, to my ears, hidden amongst the noise and choppy guitars of The Wedding Present. I despair at all the popular music of today that simply cannot compare to the mastery presented on this album.
Cinerama covers the same themes as The Wedding Present, expanding into other areas gradually over successive releases. So, the opening track of Va Va Voom, Maniac starts with a telephone message and the break up of a relationship. Comedienne swaps roles around “You want to leave him and you’re looking for excuses” and introduces Sally’s backing vocals. But it’s not until the third track Hate that one comes across the initial trademark Cinerama sound: strings, brushed drums, acoustic guitars, organ and vibes “Because I hate your lies and the guys you call friends / In fact just everything’s telling me this is where the love affair ends” all wrapped up brilliantly in just over three minutes. There are overheard whispered conversations retold in Kerry Kerry, the wah-wah loving peacefulness of Barefoot in the Park: “And the world before I met you / I can’t remember now, what was that like?”. You Turn Me On sounds to me like New Order without the basslines and keyboards. Ears is a slow duet with Emma Pollock, beginning with “Gone as far as I can go with this crap” and then moves into territory that quite possibly shouldn’t be recorded. Rarely are the lyrics explicit, but you get the feeling that you shouldn’t be listening to these private thoughts. Me Next takes things further. A part of me knows those feelings. And it shocks me. Dance, Girl, Dance turns reality into fantasy on one phrase: “But of course none of this has happened at all, yet”. And so it goes on…
By now you’d be right to assume you know the kinds of things that Cinerama are about: love, sex, fidelity, infidelity, break-ups, jealousy, fantasies. Va Va Voom sets the environment for the remainder of the albums. And it’s those later albums where things really start to happen.
By the time the second album Disco Volante was released in 2000, the band had settled on a core team of Gedge, Murrell, Wedding Present guitarist Simon Cleave and Goya Dress bassist and drummer Terry de Castro and Simon Pearson. This album was recorded by Steve Albini in Chicago, with more acoustic overdubs added afterwards in London. I like to think of this album as the Should I, Shouldn’t I? album. Because most of the lyrics on this album centre on decisions which you probably shouldn’t say ‘yes’ to. But we’re still on familiar territory. The Morricone inspired 146 Degrees opens with “You’ve just walked in this room but things have changed forever now” and teases for the remainder of the song… except this time there’s a crushing guitar solo that bursts out, and everything sounds more coherent – part of the development of the Cinerama sound. Please keep notes.
“You shake, I sweat, it stings / I ache, you’re wet, I cling” (Lollobrigida)
You were keeping notes, weren’t you? Your Charms, about a woman who is seemingly unaware of her feminity has the buzzing guitars that characterised The Wedding Present. There lies a key for the future. Lyrically, things evolve too: Heels moves from infidelity to serial infidelity. Unzip documents one of those aforementioned decisive moments: “Just unzip your inhibitions, but, honey, leave on those shoes”. And Aprés Ski is a one night stand between an older woman and a younger man, and the corresponding fallout: “She gets what she wants but still ends up losing”. Already I’m missing Sally’s vocals. Fortunately, they come back on Because I’m Beautiful (about which others have written whole paragraphs, but you’ll just have to listen to it yourself instead) and they’re there again on Let’s Pretend (as in “Can we pretend we never met? / Pretend there’s nothing to forget”). There’s more WPG (Wedding Present Guitar) with the extended version of Wow. The strings, horns and flute lifting it to euphoric levels, perfectly matching the rush of the storyline.
About now, you’re probably thinking that Cinerama are a one-trick pony. The same song written dozens of times. But you’re wrong. Musically, each track varies distinctively from its peers, and the endless variations of similar scenarios are compelling.
But Cinerama were (are?) perhaps as much about the singles as the albums. Indeed, you can judge the strength of a band by the quality of their b-sides. In 2000, This Is Cinerama compiled their first four singles, followed in 2002 by another compilation Cinerama Holiday. The b-sides of the singles shows Cinerama in more playful mood. Love is a lush overlapping duet of lists which join in the line “And please, just believe me, when I say Don’t ever leave me”, and then swap around. Model Spy is an instrumental with cooing vocals. And I probably don’t need to say much about Au Pair, so I won’t. It’s really that obvious. Shiny happy vibes abound in Mr Kiss Kiss Bang Bang which unfolds just the way it should do. And it’s bliss. Crusoe starts off with “You can’t start a sentence like that and not end it”, and then uses that TV theme tune as a break between verses. Pacific – yes, it’s a b-side, and quite possibly their best track. There are plenty more wonders on these two compilations. Take Manhattan (no pun intended Leonard Cohen fans). I might be a sucker for harpsichords, but it’s the guitars and the vocals that do it for me, and this time, the protagonist says No. It’s a triumph. London is marvellous too, hooked around an unanswered telephone call, a grinding bass drives the song and it blooms into a deeply moving musical finale. The 2002 compilation Cinerama Holiday launches with the single version of Wow, but the remainder of the tracks are equally brilliant. Piano, string orchestration and handclaps all combine on 10 Denier and it makes me melt. Everything sounds fuller and more musically focused on these tracks, and songs such as Girl on a Motorcycle, Starry Eyed and a cover of Yesterday Once More point the way to the future, being heavily guitar oriented.
From 2000 the Cinerama line-up had Finnish drummer Kari Paavola replacing Simon Pearson and Sally Murrell stopped performing live. So here we are at Torino, released in 2002. There’s worry, confusion, dread, guilt and despair in the lyrics, driven by more WPG than before. It’s certainly the darkest of their albums. There’s no pussy-footing around problems, no winks, no hints, no sly suggestions. Everything is out in the open:
“You are perfection personified
While, frankly, she’s undignified
Trust me, she disgusts me, she dares me, she scares me
She bites me, excites me, annoys me, destroys me
And if I say you’re beautiful and kind
I can hear her laughing in my mind
Because she mocks me, she shocks me, she sours me, devours me
She chokes me, provokes me, she hates me, she devastates me”
(Two Girls)
Thankfully, guitars aren’t everywhere. The short, but sweetly poignant Airborne is accompanied only by strings: “So now, you’re airborne / But I could have sworn / That you’d be here forever / That wasn’t so clever”.
David Gedge has this knack of writing great first lines: “And when you said: “I’ve got nothing on beneath this dress”, that was such great flirting! / I usually find such candidness sort of disconcerting” (Quick, before it melts) The witty follow-up is completely unexpected.
The remainder of the album rediscovers various themes and ways of being unfaithful, and the consequences. Okay, you can write albums about relationships. But there are few bands that seem so singularly hooked on a specific subject, at least not through an entire career. In some respects, I shouldn’t be praising these albums: sometimes things are really crap, but this makes great songs! Still, isn’t that what the whole genre of country music is based upon? Plus, not everyone likes, has or needs happy songs – take Kristin Hersh’s Murder, Misery and then Goodnight. In any case one should pay respect to the music and the performance. Because with these albums, and Torino in particular, the music is stunning.
And what of the future? At the end of 2002, Gedge and Burrell broke up after 14 years. He moved to Seattle and wrote a new Wedding Present album – Take Fountain, which was released in 2005. It turns out, at the conclusion of Cinerama, that that band was not much different from The Wedding Present. For Take Fountain is a musical successor to Torino. But for the review of Take Fountain.. well, you’ll have to wait.
Special mention must go to The War Against Silence which I discovered during the writing of this review.
