Music
The biggest news to emerge from the Blur camp in recent months has been the acrimonious departure of guitarist Graham Coxon. Reputedly, tensions between vocalist Damon Albarn and Coxon came to a head over the production involvement of Norman Cook. Band tensions, techno super-producers, recording time in - ahem - Marrakech; Think Tank had all the makings of a disappointing and indulgent record.
Indulgent, yes; disappointing, no. Think Tank is a somber, languid affair full of atmospheric brooding, and squiggles and squeaks where Coxon's guitar used to be. Thankfully, Albarn and co. don't forget to include a handful of beautiful, fragile pop hooks, most evident on ace single 'Out of Time.' Rather than layering endless overdubs of strings, keys, horns, and whatever-else-is-lying-around-the-studio, Think Tank achieves its luxuriant texture with warm tones and loads of subtle nuances.
It was feared that Blur's seventh full length, would be either a dance record or a "world music" album. And to a certain extent that prediction is borne out here; the surprise is from which part of the world this music drawn. Think Tank's best tracks are those that revolve around rubbery, pulsing bass lines and repetitive beats, ideas indebted to German pioneers like Can, Neu!, and Kraftwerk. Tracks like the bouncy 'Moroccan Peoples Revolutionary Bowls Club,' and the beat-heavy 'Jets' are a far cry indeed from the guitar pop of Blur throughout the 1990s. Instruments drop in and out, swirl off into a trail of reverb and feedback, and then reappear. Quintessentially English it is clearly not, but neither is it the Britpop equivalent of Graceland that some may have feared.
The album does stray on occasion. 'Crazy Beat' is an overdriven guitar heavy rocker placed between the laid back 'Out of Time' and the delicate 'Good Song.' More importantly, the track isn't even particularly good at being a guitar heavy rocker. The same goes for 'We've Got a File on You,' a quasi-punk song that could have appeared on some Thatcher era hardcore LP sandwiched between songs about Nicaragua and the Falklands. The indulgence also takes its toll on occasion, especially on the ridiculous sax solo at the end of 'Jets.
In the end Think Tank succeeds far more often than it fails. The album feels like a step forward for a band that survived the heady days of Britpop precisely because it didn't keep rehashing the same clichés. As long as they don't lose sight of the songs, they aren't out of time yet.
Ah, Turin Brakes. It's not often a band can completely polarise the listening public and still remain pretty anonymous. To some people, the Brakes are here to save music and spearhead the new-acoustic movement. To others, Olly Knights voice sounds like a cat shitting a melon.
However, nobody can deny that Turin Brakes are developing more rapidly than most bands out there, and as they find new variety in their music and build their own sound, you can't help but think that they're infinitely preferable to most of the dross we hear in the charts. 'Average Man' is catchy and full of contrasts, with melancholy verses and strangely optimistic choruses ('Have another drink my son, enjoy another cigarette, because it's time you realised you're just an average man'). The single shows just how much Turin Brakes are improving, and for the sake of out pop-charts, I hope they continue.
It has to be said, 'Retreat' is something of a strange choice for a single. Lifted from the band's excellent debut, 'The Neon Handshake', it's a simple and effective song, which ushers itself in politely, trots along for a little while in a pleasant way, before doffing its cap and strolling off into the sunset. While it's a satisfactory end to the album, characterised by Justin Schlosberg's impassioned cry, as a stand-alone song it's something of a damp squib. What it certainly doesn't have is the crunching distorted guitars and devastating swing of last single 'You Drove Me To It': this deals in melancholy exhaustion, rather than in fizzing zest.
Still, Hell Is For Heroes have proved to be reliable in providing B-sides of a consistently high quality, and they don't disappoint here. 'We're Making It Up' is a typically exuberant blast of focussed energy, and well worth the price of admission, while The Cure's 'Boys Don't Cry' is rendered suitably unrecognisable. The inclusion of a Black Sabbath cover on CD2 will doubtless also prove of interest to fans. 'Retreat' may not be the best introduction to this rather fine band, but hey, it'll still piss on the majority of the singles it'll be sitting next to on the shelves this week.
LateNightTales is trying to be another Another Late Night (in fact, it's brought to you from the same people), offering "A fluid journey through the twilight hours where your favourite artists let you in on their innermost aural secrets."
George Evelyn, a.k.a. Nightmares On Wax, is certainly an obvious choice if you want someone to come up with an eclectic leftfield/downbeat hip hop mix CD. Other than the N.O.W. mix of Ian Brown's 'Gravy Train', his own 'Brothers On The Side Of Dub' (a Cymande cover) and Dusty Springfield' 'Spooky' you're unlikely to have heard of many of these songs. That's not to say you might not recognise other parts - such as the beat of Tom Scott's 'Sneakin' In The Back', which has been sampled on several hip hop records.
Ultimately though, compilations like this smack of self-indulgence and a lazy attempt to catch in on the god-it-must-be-over-soon chillout craze (probably popularised by 40 year old bankers trying to stay cool). The only surprise this CD offers is the last track - the first part of 'The White City' read by Brian Blessed (which is to be completed over the next four chapters of LNT).
If you're a big fan, it might be worth it for this alone - but only if you're a really big (obsessive) fan. Otherwise just raid your mate's Massive Attack etc and make your own late night CD, it'll be more interesting.
8th May 2003