Music
Eminem is an Artist. And as an Artist, he has always known it; as a society, we have always denied it. After all, how can someone who makes disgusting, foul-mouthed and tastelessly jokey songs about the brutal murder of his own wife be an artist, a term which we use to describe Shakespeare?
Well, if anyone can deny that Othello examines in horrifying detail the murder of one's beloved, whilst using coarse humour and bad language throughout, then I'll eat my culturally egalitarian hat.
'Encore' stands proudly in Em's tradition of self-referentialism. Luckily for all listeners, it also stands in his tradition of top-quality music too. Whilst using the album to delve more deeply than ever into wider, literary questions about the nature of the artist, Em keeps the heads satisfied with beats that are effortlessly above the par; this is at once typical Dre-brand funk and Detroit-driven invention, sonic landscape on several levels fleshed out with contrasting, multi-layered beats. 'My 1st Single' stands out as an example of this originality. "This was supposed to be my first single," he proclaims, "but I fucked it up." Explaining why the song is too experimental, not to mention too filthy, for air-play, Mathers actually makes the song too experimental, not to mention too filthy, adding comedy burp-sounds and random outbursts of profanity as proof.
On paper, a record as self-obsessed as this would actually be evidence of nothing but the death-knell of the artist involved; an angry man with no more relevance using more of himself in a desperate bid to save his career à la Sid Vicious. Yet Eminem's main component, himself, is as reliable as ever, turning in consummate raps on every track. And besides the navel-gazing, there is much more here: compellingly dark social satire ('Mosh'); touching examinations of love (both familial and sexual); and, of course, irresistible school-boy humour ("Gwen Stefani, will you pee-pee on me?").
It is at moments like these that one imagines Eminem offering a cheeky wink to the audience: those who will insist on writing him off because of such childish stunts will always continue to do so, whilst those who listen to him only because of such filth will continue to do so too. The wink is for those listeners who believe they are on his level, those who are willing to accept this for what it is - Marshall Mathers' reflections on the role of his creation Eminem, his main character. Don't get the two confused, or you won't be screaming "Encore!", so much as "Get off!".
Twisted Sister were never the most popular band in their genre, so is there any point in re-recording their Still Hungry 20 years after the no-brainer tune of 'I Wanna Rock' first got hair-metal fans' fists pumping?
This time around the songs have a fuller sound with 'Stay Hungry' galloping off into the distance with chugging rhythms and a defiant although formulaic chorus. However, as the album progresses you realise what an accurate pastiche of the genre Spinal Tap was. There is nothing that sets this record apart from any of the others from the hair metal scene, and whilst the songs are adrenalised and enjoyable they are also on the whole instantly forgettable. The only way to listen to the record is to turn it up to earbleeding levels, with beer in hand.
If you like your music intelligent or emotional then this is certainly not the record for you.
If networking doesn't come naturally to most hip-hop personalities, Handsome Boy Modeling School certainly show that it can. Perusing the album credits leaves you in little doubt that Monsieurs Nakamura and Huston scoured every page of their leather-bound Mulberry address books when tracking down A-list collaborators. Pharrell, Chester Bennington, RZA and Alex Kapranos. The only notable exception provided by the likes of Jamie Callum (whose retch-inducing warbling is enough to have you reaching for the nine). That painful incident aside, this album is tour-de-force of 21st century hip-hop in all its omnipresent glory.
'Rock & Roll...' provides the album's centre-piece; a six minute epic courtesy of Vivaldi, El-P, DJ Q-bert and one third of Linkin Park. While not the most cohesive of pieces, the enthusiasm with which each artist lends their own talents to the mix makes for tremendous fun. 'The World's Gone Mad', a down-tempo reggae number, is stylistically less incongruent and boasts a real head-nodder of a chorus, thanks in no small part to the vocal contribution of the legendary Barrington Levy.
It's a pleasant surprise to find an album otherwise defined by its big-name collaborations to be greater than the sum of its parts. Nakamura and Huston are more than happy to let their guests take the plaudits while they shy away from the limelight; attempting to reinvent the common perception of hip hop. One thing The Handsome Boy Modeling School can teach you is the value of a varied musical diet.
Gwen Stefani
What Are You Waiting For?
Oozing style and boasting lyrics of female 'empowerment': "Ya know you're (wigging out) cuz of your sex chromosome", this is an energetic tour de force whose dulcet/sleazy tones entice, seduce, and ultimately leave you feeling as thoroughly dirty as the bass that punctuate the deliciously vacuous and booty-shaking solo offering.
Busted
She Wants To Be Me
Here those loveable Tory scamps tackle the difficult subject of gender dysphoria with delicacy, tact, and an obnoxiously catchy chorus. The guitars crash, the boys whine: about as much satisfaction as you can get from three small inches of collectible pocket single. ("she's so obsessed with me, now she stands up to pee" may well be their best couplet yet.)
Brian McFadden
Irish Son
Awful. Terrible. Bilious. Poor. Mundane. Dreary. Monotonous. Offensive. Evil. Turgid. Trite. Stale. Nasty. Dreadful. Appalling. Tedious. Inexcusable. Atrocious. Unforgivable. Bad. Cringing. Shocking. Ghastly. Horrific. Dire. Dismal. Frightful. Yes, I spent longer coming up with words to describe it, than actually listening to this piece of crap.
Nas
Bridging the Gap
For those of you who think it's all been done before, this really is living proof it hasn't. Mr Kelis takes a harmonica driven blues riff, his dad Olu Dara and his own inimitable style and creates a masterpiece which proves rap is as creative a genre as the best of them. It's almost good enough to forgive those his and hers gold teeth.
This weekend saw the opening of the London Jazz Festival at the South Bank's Festival Hall, featuring such international superstars as Ravi Coltrane (Trane's son), Gilad Atzmon and Brandford Marsalis. The evening began at the Pizza Express FreeStage, where the Youngblood Brass Band impressed with a mixture of Brazilian Capoeira grooves, jazz standards and hip-hop influenced funk which had even the Festival Hall's usually rather staid, upper middle class clientele head-bopping like crazy.
Compared to the US, the UK youth jazz scene can be rather limited, but the FreeStage is showing no fewer than 16 acts until November 21st, some of which are being aired on BBC Radio Three.
In the Hall itself, 13-piece jazz crossover collective Future Sounds Of Jazz opened the festival in style. The line-up consists of two female vocalists, tenor sax/rapper, alto sax, two drummers, synths, piano, electric bass, guitar, two visuals experts and DJ Biznizz on the turntables.
The overall effect is like a sensory onslaught, seen, heard and above all felt, because there is no other way to describe their sound than, well, big.
They flit from swinging jazz, to thumping funk to R'n'B (in the original sense of Rhythm and Blues) with enviable ease, every member of the band proving themselves skilled soloists at one stage or another.
The visuals played on the old George Bush/Monkey theme a little obviously, but also included the innovative 'Jazz Fruit Machine', in which a random selector on the big screen chose three members to improvise a number together, usually generating some pretty impressive results.
They were joined on four tunes by Mercury Award-nominated rapper Ty, whose unique crisp style livened up some of the many school parties in the audience.
Judging by the enthusiasm of some of the students throughout the evening, though, the incorporation of modern urban styles and world beats may well nourish some future British Art Blakeys and John Coltranes, as well as aspiring MCs.
The much-vaunted King's Consort interspersed four of Bach's motets with instrumental works by other composers for this concert.
This was well advised, as with the monumental motets you can certainly have too much of a good thing; the rest, though, seemed like light relief in comparison. That it did was largely because of the arresting quality of the Consort's choir.
Some choirs striving for "authenticity" see their strength in limited numbers: through this they claim accordance with period practice and achieve a well-defined sound. The Consort's choir, however, aim big, performing with between 18 and 32 voices. In their hands, Bach's florid semiquaver runs were so well handled that the contrapuntal textures never became confused. Maintaining a large group, moreover, enabled a huge and expressive dynamic range - well suited to the motets' mood changes, and so often lacking from 'one-voice-per-part' choirs.
Minimalism was the order of the day in the concerti. Corelli's Concerto Grosso number nine was performed without the ripieno.
The small ensemble maintained for the Vivaldi and Geminiani concerti conferred real benefits in conveying the nuances of the parts.
Above all, the lively tempi gave a sense of the freedom achieved in this pared down form. The swaying harpsichordist Robert King kept things in good order.
The inclusion of these other works ostensibly provided a context, in form and inspiration, for Bach's works. The latin motet by Kuhnau, Bach's predecessor at the Thomaskirche in Leipzig, served this purpose especially well, and was a well judged inclusion of a little-known work.
Although usually performing in London, the King's Consort venture further afield than Oxford, taking Bach's St Matthew Passion to Manchester next year, for instance. On this showing, they're certainly worth looking out for.
18th Nov 2004