Number 5 of 2005 — Ayria: Flicker

Ayria’s debut album, Debris was, by my definition, “EBM meets 21st century club music meets 1980s electronica,” and one of my favourites of 2004.

It’s Been Fun launches Flicker, the lengthy thirteen track follow-up album, and it’s immediately clear that this is somewhat different. The instrumentation and arrangement of many of the earlier songs appears to indicate a simpler, more primal form of synth-based music. When I first listened to the album, I thought that this was a terrible mistake. Fortunately, this view was only fleeting. One evening, a week or so later, I listened to the album again. This time around I realised that this simpler music better reflects the lyrics and the intent of the Ayria ‘project’, whilst giving better scope for Jennifer Parkin’s vocals. Consider the vocal break and drop in Counterblow, where-after the track builds once again into a fierce retribution: “Can’t seem to fix what I’ve broken down / Worn out and now I just don’t care / Stripped down the girl I must repair / You made me do things that I didn’t like / Unfair”.

Thematically, Flicker is “one angry machine” (Selling Rebellion), musically and lyrically, which draws back from the light that was buried within Debris into the darkest places. Darker, even, than Ladytron’s latest album. The lyrics too are, in most places, exquisitely written and delivered. In my review of Kristin Hersh’s The Grotto, I wrote that “I just dig it out every couple of months so it can cut me into little pieces and put me back together again all shiny and new.” Flicker, doesn’t do this. Flicker just breaks me apart, then leaves me abandoned. It’s frightening.

There is one curious exception to this, and I’m still puzzled about its inclusion and its meanings. St. Edith is a string-laden ballad, almost anti-negative. It’s a genuinely calming experience after what has preceded it. But I continue to wonder why it’s on this album. Is it a glimpse into weird gothic positivity, of hope, of faith even?

“I’ve always noticed there’s nothing bigger than all the little things” (Infiltrating My Way Through The System)

By the time one reaches Infiltrating.., it’s clear that the apparently simpler approach is only a veneer, because musically and technically it is a complex animal. None of the songs is short, but none of them outstays their welcome; there are always nuances and further ideas explored. Be Me includes oodles of ideas, including a fabulous percussive vocal cut-up, right before the song temporarily slows down. I love it.

And then there’s Cutting which encapsulates the devastating feelings and physical consequences of self-hatred. But none of these is enough preparation for My Device, which detonates on a short-fuse, containing some of hardest electronica heard in decades, and the most brutal put-downs. Going it alone never felt this good.

After the title track, Flicker (which is about as political as Ayria gets) we’re left with Lovely Day, closing the album. Perhaps the coldest song on the album, full of lonely Tuesday nights, “fearing rejection more than being alone” and “will I ever find someone who understands my mind”. The multi-tracked vocals towards the close of the song are gorgeous, until the album fades out with just guitars.

“I’m overwhelmed again.”

Me too.

Ayria
Ayria MySpace
Kittenflug
Flicker [iTunes]
Debris [iTunes]

Number 6 of 2005 — Nerina Pallot: Fires

In August 2001, Nerina Pallot [4Play video bio] released her debut single Patience [video]. It was the video for this song that persuaded me to buy her album Dear Frustrated Superstar, which ended up being my favourite album of that year. And what a title. Patience charted at number 61. The album, followed two weeks later, charting at number 82. Nerina wasn’t happy with the way she was being treated as an artist and musician. She wrote about this online. Her record label, Polydor withdrew the album and dropped Nerina, minus contracted financial compensation.

Wilderness years ensued, during which Nerina carried on writing music, gigging and studying. Her music publisher Chrysalis Music stuck by her, providing her with money to record her second album. It wasn’t enough, leading to Nerina re-mortgaging her house to complete the job.

Fires was released in April 2005 on her own label. Named after a collection of Raymond Carver stories and poems, it was preceded by a download-only single Everybody’s Gone To War, also the first track on the album. In 2006 Nerina signed to 14th Floor, home of Damien Rice, and Fires was re-issued with more “spangly” versions of some songs and an adjusted track order. It’s now sold over 100,000 copies. Such is the fickle nature of the music industry that Polydor have found the money and inclination to re-release Dear Frustrated Superstar.

Anyhow, on with the review of Fires. But which version do I choose to review? I could be elitist and review the original version, or I could help promote the album by reviewing the reissued version. Let’s see.. it’s the reissued one, although I believe the track sequencing on the original version to be better.

Fires kicks off with Everybody’s Gone To War [video], opening with overly shiny drums and underpinned by too many guitars. It’s immediately clear what’s changed during the past four years. Nerina’s music was previously firmly entrenched in the singer/songwriter mould. Now her songs are more expansive and many have taken on a mid-Atlantic tinge. That’s probably a bad thing, as I shall illustrate later. Lyrically, however she has matured greatly, encompassing more pathos and wit. There’s no Watch Out Billie on this album either.

For example, Halfway Home, an anthem of sorts, leads off with the line “I’ve got a quarter in my pocket of an apple left to eat” later becoming “I’ve got a quarter in my pocket, I’m advancing to the booth”. In between “In the shadow of a thousand veiled Victorian goodbyes / Jewels of litter come to greet me, and it stings my eyes”.

Damascus [video], about the ending of a relationship which had long been in decline, is a highlight of the album. This live video for Damascus proves two things: that talented songwriters don’t need spangly arrangements or A-list musicians to help their music, which is ironic given who ended up playing on Fires (including Matt Chamberlain and almost omnipotent Jon Brion); and that a basic arrangement increases the emotional impact of the song.

Prior to the release of the album, Nerina’s MySpace page had a couple of exclusive songs on it. It still has them. One of these is Idaho. I loved it then, and I love it more now. Idaho was the song that marked the point when Nerina knew she’d make a second album. The lyrics appear to reflect this growing realisation, putting to an end her depression later documented in the poignant, reflective Mr King.

Learning To Breathe builds upon this before the introspective nature of the album turns to look forwards and outwards. Geek Love is a song which flirts with infidelity, being witty and sexy, opening with the lines “In the race to get out of this place / I am checking my face in the back of a spoon”.

And then there’s Sophia, a piano ballad about “falling in love with a person, and books, and needing to find the right words to express those intense feelings”. Oh my. Oh my. Again. It’s only on this song that the beauty in Nerina’s voice becomes blindingly obvious, especially on “Do you hurt but still feel alive, like never before? Oh, Sophia. Sophia.” (my emphasis). Sophia will be released as a radically reworked single in September 2006.

All Good People is a Sheryl Crow song straight out of Tuesday Night Music Club. Sorry. It’s nice and all that, and I do like the line “Why should we worry, when we can do anything?”, but the arrangement is pedestrian. Fortunately, the closing two tracks return to the quality of the rest of the album. Heart Attack is a furious exclamation of self-belief and Nickindia is a tearful look back at one’s life (and these are my tears). The latter points me towards Kristin Hersh’s Listerine.

Fires is the first album I’ve managed to review without needing to listen to it at the same time. That’s a measure of how good it is, and how memorable it is.

Better than Rocketboom.

Number 7 of 2005 — Ladytron: Witching Hour

Up until the release of this, their third album, I thought of Ladytron as a somewhat quirky, pop-obsessed electroclash outfit. Their previous releases contained some great pop songs (e.g. Playgirl, Seventeen), and some throwaway giggles (i.e. P.A.C.O.!), along with an overuse of foreign language. Useful to have in your collection, critically acclaimed, but never vital.

Witching Hour, on perhaps its third listen, became something much more than I had expected. Daniel Hunt, Reuben Wu, Mira Aroyo and main vocalist Helena Marnie have produced an album that is scintillating. Perhaps the problem was the single that immediately preceded the album. Destroy Everything You Touch [video] sounds great in the context of the album, but as an introduction to where Ladytron are now, not so great. So let’s rewind, back to the start.

And back to High Rise. It’s the first chord change on High Rise that blows the previous two albums away. It marks the merging of rock music and electronica. No guitars were hurt in the making of this album. And it shows that analog modelling has come a long way. Helena’s insanely reverbed dreamy vocals add to the vast space that this song inhabits. Then there’s the tension leading up to the break before everything bursts back to life.

Only after listening to High Rise can one appreciate Destroy Everything You Touch. High Rise is the teaser, but Destroy.. leaps in with punishing beats and lyrical decisiveness. “Everything you touch you don’t feel / Do not know what you steal / Shakes your hand / Takes your gun / Walks you out of the sun”. By the time International Dateline hits – only three songs in – we’re deep underground. Music this dark shouldn’t sound this uplifting. And it gets darker.

Soft Power, amTV – all nightclubs and aftermaths, Sugar [video] with its glistening wails all provide more aspects of the dark side of humanity. It doesn’t stop with the Bulgarian vocals of Mira Aroyo on Fighting In Built Up Areas.

But when Last One Standing appears, the album becomes personal, reducing everything previously sung to an issue between two people. Weekend appears to relish in the torment of the rat race, and what some people do to compensate for it. Beauty#2 is their prettiest song, despite its lyrics, “I sent you out to play last night / The alarms went off at three / Funny how I know nothing now / Loneliness the guarantee”, borrowing heavily from the synth-goth movement of the 1980s, and White Light Generator takes a turn on the shimmering effected guitars that Cocteau Twins loved. Closing song, All The Way takes this idea and their techniques even further, becoming a pulsing ambient ballad.

Witching Hour sees Ladytron become more confident in songwriting and production. Their music has evolved into an almost perfect mix of two genres, which elevates them above those who ache to be this cool and aloof. Lyrically, too, things have improved. Now listeners get sideways glances into what’s being sung about. It’s an album that’s so chilled, so cold that it burns.

Number 8 of 2005 — Emm Gryner: The Great Lakes

There’s a lot of good Canadian music. There’s also a lot of bad Canadian music, as the Much Music Video Awards proved. If you don’t like your singers to wear tea cosies, then perhaps Emm’s your bag.

Apart from a short-lived dalliance with a major label, resulting in her second album, Public, all of Emm Gryner’s albums have been released on her own label, Dead Daisy Records. The Great Lakes is her eighth album. A limited edition homemade album, now out of print, “written, recorded, mixed, printed, hand-stamped, stapled, embossed, cut, burned and packaged especially for you by me”. Mine’s number 30. It’s so homemade that the lyrics to four tracks are missing. Instead, two blank pages. Whoops!

Recorded mostly in Montreal, this album makes my year-end list, because it’s simply a great collection of songs. It epitomises Emm’s musical philosophy, in which music is a way of expressing one’s self – something that needs to be done – rather than a means of making money. Nothing says this better than the first track, Crystal Falls, a ballad, if you like, accompanied by just an electric piano.

Case of Tornadoes begins a general pattern of loud song / quiet song, and this song harks back to the days of Public. The lyrics “I got a case of tornadoes / When you come around / Everything that matters goes underground” thematically reminds me of Tori Amos’ The Power of Orange Knickers.

But it’s not until the fourth track, Billy Hang On, that something magical happens. This, too, is a piano ballad. And it proves, undeniably, that if you’re a great songwriter, you need nothing more. No fancy effects or auto-tuned vocals. Nor an orchestra of millions. One day, I’m hoping that Emm releases an album of just piano tracks. But then, I’m hoping the same for Tori, too.

You see.. there’s another track that does the same: Star/Crossed, piano and the exquisite singing of exquisite poetry. It kills me every time I hear it. And I’m aching to hear the version of this song on her forthcoming album The Summer of High Hopes.

And there’s more, or rather, less. Emm, like Kristin Hersh, can do short tracks. Ex-Boy, all 65 seconds of it is also piano-led. One verse. One chorus. By this time, you’ll have probably noticed that I’ve ignored the more jaunty, electrified tracks in this review. Those too are good songs, but they pale in comparison to the more minimal ones. Win The West, however, is worthy of mentioning. A countrified, poetrified song which is several decibels quieter than the heavy metal anthem it could have been. Thankfully.

And Bulletstorms finishes the album, and the remarkable set of piano ballads on this album:

“You lost Vancouver / Bulletstorms ago / In a war of mistakes / And flying high / Your severed symphonies / Floating on the sea / With ferryboats / Of restless girls like me”

You need Emm in your life. Really you do.

Number 9 of 2005 — Kelli Ali: Psychic Cat

Kelli Ali’s career launched when she became the lead singer in Sneaker Pimps. Their debut album, Becoming X was an album that pushed the trip-hop sound more into the mainstream, to critical acclaim, but not commercial success in the UK. The US however, lapped them up, and one year of touring left the band’s relationship in tatters, culminating in Kelli leaving. She spent time travelling then sat down to start writing songs. Inspired by co-writing songs with Satoshi Tomiie she started sending demos to record companies. Most wanted a facsimile of Sneaker Pimps, but Derek Birkett from One Little Indian offered her the opportunity to make her own music. Her debut, Tigermouth, was released in 2003. The follow-up, Psychic Cat, inspired by a meeting with a psychic cat on 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica, came in 2004.

Kelli writes that “I wanted to try and capture a spirit of freedom and beauty that I felt was always there”. The opening two tracks, Hot Lipps and Psychic Cat meet these objectives. The first is psychedelic 70’s rock which leads into the second track: acoustic guitars, half dark trip-hop, half techno bashing. Both underpinned by girly choruses and breathy vocals.

Speakers is buzzy anti-capitalism rant: “Where’s the love? Where’s the love? Inside the melody that’s lickin’ your speakers?”, or as Kelli writes on her website “Greed and ignorance is what they want to feed us, need to feed us so that in our comfortable lethargy, we dream of one day being rich and famous and perfect instead of lost and bored and confused, the fat cats can sneak out into the big old mother world and rape her for all she’s worth. They treat nature like a whore and make justice and liberty a joke.” But there’s no stopping the tunes. The entire album is simply a collection of expertly crafted songs. It eschews commercialism, whilst being effortlessly commercial.

Case in point is Home Honey I’m High. A truly stoned immaculate song grabbing handfuls of Vienna, Cars and sneaking in a bit of a nod to Soft Cell: “Run baby run / I’m your setting sun / Hello, goodbye / Home honey I’m high”. Essex electro via Altered Images.

There is experimentation. Ideal features visceral guitar work from Primal Scream’s Andrew Innes and more techno bashing (Joey Beltram plays pop?) before an unexpected drop into two minutes of acid dub. In Praise of Shadows exploits Kelli’s dreamy vocals with an exhaled intro, providing a nice balance to the previous song. But despite the kitchen-sink “let’s try this” approach to each song, there is an overall continuity throughout the album. No track feels wholly out of place. And there’s attention to detail, lyrically and musically. Graffiti Boy features the opening line “Hey man, you shake my heart like a spray can”, subtle extra hi-hats on the second verse and one-off backing vocals. It’s exquisite. Voyeur is even more loved-up.

Groupie has more rainbow smiles, taking the psychedelia of earlier songs and weaving a chilled ambient love song. The extraordinarily beautiful chorus is unexpected, as is the use of Detroit-techno style strings.

However, the closing track Last Boy on Earth doesn’t quite work as a final track. It’s an acoustic number, being thematically out of place with the preceding tracks. Perhaps it should have appeared earlier on, with the closing tracks being Voyeur and a faded-out mix of Groupie. But this is a minor issue, because Kelli Ali’s second album is particularly impressive.

Biography
Psychic Cat [iTunes]
Writing Psychic Cat
Recording Psychic Cat