BLACK FLAG – My War

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Black Flag’s second full-length was released in 1984, after a long period of imposed inactivity following a long drawn out court case. In theory, their return to the studio should’ve heralded a fantastic release, since it’d been almost three years since any new recordings were made. In reality – maybe as a reaction to their legal struggles – ‘My War’ is, at least in part, a wilfully difficult and oppressive album. This is the only release recorded by the three-piece line-up of Rollins, Greg Ginn and Bill Stevenson (who became Black Flag’s full time drummer while his band Descendents were taking a sabbatical), and as such, presents the band at a transitional time (all bass parts are credited to Dale Nixon – a pseudonym for Ginn). Throughout this release, the band sounds unfocused, with more than half the album meandering into the realms of self-indulgence.

The album starts out well enough, as side one is upbeat as well as aggressive. There’s a noticeable shift away from the more basic hardcore punk elements of their previous sound; in places it’s still evident, but as the album progresses, there’s more focus on an intense brand of sludge-rock. This generally presents a more mature Black Flag, and the fusing of these two styles would become the band’s signature sound on their later releases.

Bill Stevenson drives the title cut with some great hi-hat work and angry drumming. Rollins makes his presence very much felt, his lyrics of delivered with pure anger. Ginn’s guitar work, meanwhile, hovers between edgy riffing and angular soloing. At the track’s close, Ginn bashes out two chords, creating tension as Rollins’s already frustrated delivery steps up a gear, spitting his last few lines as if he were trapped inside the music. ‘Can’t Decide’ follows a similar musical path, but is smoother around the edges, with an extended arrangement allowing Ginn to stretch out a little. Delivering a set of lyrics concerning anger and indecision, Rollins sounds like the ultimate hardcore frontman.

Featuring an arrangement which constantly shifts between the punkier sound of ‘Damaged’-era Black Flag and the sound of mid-paced frustration, ‘Beat My Head Against a Wall’ is one of the album’s truly great numbers. During the slow parts, Ginn and Stevenson deliver grinding rock riffs over which Rollins adds to the tension. It’s during the faster parts, though, where Black Flag show their true greatness. Bill Stevenson’s drumming is tight, over which Ginn churns out great riffs and pointed solos in a manner which would pave the way for the basic sound of his post Black Flag jazz-punk instrumental trio, Gone. ‘I Love You’ steps up the pace and is a throwback to the band’s more classic sound. While it never quite matches the punk throttle of the best moments from ‘Damaged’, it shows that despite a slightly maturer sound, Black Flag can still pack a punch. The straight-ahead driving force of ‘Forever Time’ also shows a no-nonsense Black Flag – the energy of some of ‘Damaged’ is very much present, yet the overall tone (particularly during Ginn’s solo) hints more at ugly guitar based rock. Rollins doesn’t always sound at his best here – his shouty vocal delivery giving way to screaming in places, but as with a couple of the earlier tracks, Stevenson is on fire – his hi-hat work and fills showing far more sophistication than most other hardcore/punk drummers of the era.

‘The Swinging Man’ brings the first half to a close with an off-kilter rhythm and some superb drumming from Stevenson (quite possibly the true musical hero with regards to the first half of ‘My War’. Rollins is at his most frenzied, and the end result is more than threatening. It’s a pity that any subtleties in the musical performance are drowned out by Ginn hammering his fretboard in a manner more jarring than ever before. While the track features some decent musical ideas, there’s no restraint in the arrangement, and as such, it’s very difficult listening – unless, of course, you’re able to focus on that brilliant drum part.

The album’s second side can best be described as intense, but not in an exhilarating sense. Taking the grinding approach explored on ‘Damaged I’ (the definitive version of which can be found on Black Flag’s ‘Damaged’ full-length), ‘Nothing Left Inside’ slows things to a crawl. The guitar riff cranks its way through nearly seven minutes, which shifts between Rollins howling in pain and Ginn’s atonal guitar work. ‘Three Nights’ is marginally better thanks to part of Rollins’s delivery carrying a spirit of an angry poetry reading as opposed to a hardcore punk/rock vocal. By the time he screams ‘I’m going to make you feel the way I feel’, he’s gonna make sure you absolutely empathise with his torment, it’s intensity grabbing you and ripping your senses apart. ‘Scream’ takes a similar approach again, but turns the intensity up as far as possible, with screaming moments taking place for a proportion of the vocal. During this number, Ginn’s jazz-punk noodlings become so grating, that by the end of the track you’ve not so much been beaten into submission, as much as left feeling rather queasy, then wondering what the point of it all was.

Individually, each of these last three tracks would have been tolerable on any Black Flag album (but still unlikely to be enjoyable), but here – sequenced next to each other, with a playing time of near twenty minutes – the intensity becomes almost too much for the listening audience. It’s as if after the long period of studio inactivity, Black Flag are so angry they’ve deliberately trying to provoke their audience into feeling the kind of claustrophobia they may have experienced, not being allowed an outlet for new recordings for so long.

If you want a snapshot of the second half of ‘My War’, the war is one of internal anguish; a sound which takes the slowest moments of Black Sabbath and twists them into almost impenetrable ugliness. This approach undoubtedly became influential to some bands which followed, though – most notably those much-loved sludge merchants (the) Melvins. Although this kind of intensity could be admired, it’s incredibly hard to take when delivered over such a long duration; there’s also a feeling that the pounding, slow delivery of these three songs is a waste of drummer Bill Stevenson’s talents.

The release of ‘My War’ marked the beginning of a rush of releases over the next two years. Over the course of another four studio discs, Black Flag honed their brand of distinctive, grinding hard rock and punk (and even offered some spoken word material on side one of ‘Family Man’). The music on those albums comes across much better than demonstrated here – and often far less sludgy (in part that’s due to the arrival of Kira Roessler on bass, whose playing would show far more style than Ginn’s heavy handed approach). While ‘My War’ features a handful of great moments, overall, it isn’t a great Black Flag release. It has plenty aggression, but even during the album’s best moments (except for perhaps ‘Beat My Head…’) it’s at the expense of that spark which makes their other work so captivating.

March 2010/January 2011

“Mike Starr: April 4, 1966 – March 8, 2011”

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Mike Starr, last seen on the US MTV show ‘Celebrity Rehab’ in 2010, has died. At the time of writing, no details have been released regarding his cause of death, but police do not suspect foul play.

Starr will be best remembered as former bass player with Seattle legends Alice In Chains, playing bass on their first two (and arguably best) full length releases ‘Facelift’ and ‘Dirt’ (released in 1990 and 1992 respectively). Alongside Nirvana’s ‘Nevermind’ and Pearl Jam’s ‘Ten’, ‘Dirt’ become one of the biggest selling and best loved albums associated with the 90’s grunge phenomenon, eventually shifting three over million units in the US. The album also spawned three US Top Ten hit singles.

After leaving Alice In Chains shortly after the release of ‘Dirt’, Starr became a member of Sun Red Sun, a supergroup which also featured Ray Gillen of Badlands/Black Sabbath, ex-Rainbow/Black Sabbath drummer Bobby Rondinelli and Al B Romano (formally a member of Anthrax vocalist Joey Belladonna’s eponymous band).

Starr can be seen in the video-clips from the Alice in Chains VHS release ‘Live Facelift’ below:

R.E.M. – Collapse Into Now

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After R.E.M.’s golden run of albums between 1989’s ‘Green’ and 1994’s ‘Monster’, the band’s popularity hit stratospheric levels. They could seemingly do no wrong. Then came the marginal ‘New Adventures In Hi-Fi’ – an album which polarises fans. While some praise it for its moodiness, others find it song-less and more than a bit dull. From that point on R.E.M. continued releasing million-selling albums, but there was a general feeling they were past their best – a feeling which culminated with the release of 2004’s often maligned ‘Around The Sun’.

Nearly seven years and a couple of albums later, the early buzz surrounding ‘Collapse Into Now’ suggested that R.E.M.’s 2011 release was something a bit special. While no ‘Automatic For The People’ or ‘Monster’, it certainly comes loaded with its share of winners. In fact, it plays like a voyage through each of the styles and whims of R.E.M.’s long career, as if they’ve made a conscious effort to try please all of their fans on one all-encompassing release.

With ‘Discoverer’ the album opens with a rather crashy number. Weaving its charm by way of chiming guitars, naturally, this evokes a ‘Monster’ style REM. There’s more than a hint of ‘Bang and Blame’ surrounding this number in places, and while musically it isn’t too complex, it has a couple of nice touches – most notably a great bass courtesy of Mike Mills, shining through the small wall of guitars. Stipe’s vocal isn’t always completely audible, though I suspect his lyrics are a collection of oblique words. While musically it holds its own, it’s let down a little by a chorus which fails to stretch much beyond Stipe repeatedly shouting ‘Discoverer’. ‘All The Best’ follows in a similar mood, with a focus on electric guitars and general rock posturing. It has the quality of a comfortable pair of shoes; the kind of number which feels like you’ve always known it.

‘It Happened Today’ explores the band’s Americana pop elements; while the best elements are drawn from Peter Buck’s mandolin work, it’s an album stand out with regard to harmony vocals. The melding of Stipe, Buck and Mills’s voices provide a great sunshine vibe. During the closing moments where those harmonies make up the bulk of the entertainment, they are joined by Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder, though his contribution is somewhat understated.

For those looking for more of R.E.M.’s pastel shades, ‘Collapse Into Now’ features a few more stand outs. ‘Oh My Heart’ is a brilliant acoustic based waltz with Peter Buck’s distinctive guitars and mandolins accompanied by very European sounding accordion and sousaphone work. In these relaxed atmospheres, Stipe sounds superb. This ought to be enough to make the track a fan favourite, despite a slightly wobbly chorus featuring some rather ugly backing vocals. ‘Walk It Back’ is a maudlin, piano-based number which provides a great showcase for Stipe as an understated vocalist. It’s a number which works by virtue of its relative simplicity. The sparse piano, occasional echoing guitar and warm bass work captures the reflective R.E.M. in fantastic form. Those who still find themselves hopelessly attracted by ‘Automatic For The People’ will certainly find plenty of enjoyment from the quirky, acoustic ‘Überlin’, which features great performances from all concerned. Behind great lead work, R.E.M.’s unofficial fifth member Scott McCaughey adds plenty of texture with simple organ lines. Once again, post-‘Monster’ R.E.M. have rarely sounded better than they do here.

‘Mine Smell Like Honey’ is another upbeat electric number, though not the kind of fuzz-driven rock which pumped ‘Monster’s blood. This number is bouncier, more naive – a deliberate attempt to capture some of the spirit which drove their earliest works. With a small amount of tweaking, it sounds like something which could slot into running order of ‘Reckoning’. Such a throwback to an older sounding R.E.M. certainly comes as a surprise. And it’s an even bigger surprise that it doesn’t sound forced or unnatural for them to play in such a style after so many years have passed. A similar musical spirit powers ‘That Someone Is You’, where Buck’s guitars jangle relentlessly. This doesn’t sound quite as natural, however, since moments of organ and a slight treatment on Stipe’s vocal are just enough to remind the listener this wasn’t recorded in 1984. The energy throughout the track cannot be faulted though and pulling in at under two minutes, it certainly clears the cobwebs!

One time Patti Smith Group guitarist Lenny Kaye offers his chops to two numbers. He can be heard playing the featured solos on ‘Alligator Aviator Autopilot¬¬ Antimatter’ and ‘Blue’. ‘Alligator’ is an upbeat offering, all rock swagger and pounding drums. Hardly essential R.E.M., but it’s definitely lots of fun, sounding like it was created with live performance in mind. A guest appearance by Peaches adds very little overall, her performance not much more than an echo of Stipe’s main voice. The angular soloing offered by Kaye brings the track a welcome, but brief moment of edginess. ‘Blue’, meanwhile, is a downbeat number which also features Patti Smith herself. Having first performed on the dreary ‘E-Bow The Letter’ from ‘New Adventures In Hi-Fi’, the idea of Patti Smith collaborating with Stipe and co isn’t a new phenomenon, but thankfully, ‘Blue’ isn’t as flat as that aforementioned track. Throughout, Stipe offers a overly wordy spoken performance, while Smith’s distinctive voice handles the other, more traditional vocal; her off-kilter style given a very haunting quality thanks to the use of atmospherically played reverbed guitars and piano. It’s not catchy by any stretch of the imagination, but certainly ends ‘Collapse Into Now’ on a reflective note. Before the track stops, there’s a brief reprise of ‘Discoverer’ bringing things full circle, but it feels a little bolted on after the drifting atmospherics of Stipe and Smith captured in duet.

In many ways, the early “return to form” hype regarding ‘Collapse Into Now’ can be seen as true. It’s certainly a well-rounded album evoking a lot of the band’s best pre-‘New Adventures In Hi-Fi’ works. It’s not as classic as that run of releases between 1989’s ‘Green’ and 1994’s ‘Monster’, but to expect that it could have been, is somewhat foolish. Thankfully, though, ‘Collapse Into Now’ is streets ahead of the drudgery of ‘New Adventures In Hi-Fi’ and much better than the “R.E.M. on auto-pilot” approach of everything which followed.

SHARKS TOOK THE REST – Grounds For Hearts To Swell

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PhotobucketTaking music with strings and an almost spacious approach to the piano would undoubtedly create something atmospheric and possibly cinematic, but on this EP, British septet Sharks Took The Rest take such cinematic music a step farther by adding elements of easy jazz and electronica. This results in five varied numbers which, together, create an incredibly compelling debut release.

The string-led ‘Bring Her Back’ has a sound which is immediately familiar. Gentle drums and upright bass provide a warm loop over the viola and cello. The swirling vocal arrangement on the chorus gives a sense of building up, but largely the number maintains a mellow, flowing quality. The end sound offers something which sounds like Sarah McLachlan, although the use of upright bass lends itself to the work of Elizabeth and the Catapult. The McLachlan feeling runs through parts of ‘Ancestors’, but here, Beccy Owen’s vocal (which occasionally drifts into an uncomfortable pitch) plays second fiddle to the great work from the rhythm section. David Carnegie’s jazzy drumming is spot-on throughout the number, but Ian Paterson’s upright bass work outshines all other musical aspects.

‘Sleeping Conniptions’ showcases the busier side of the septets sound and the use of a frantic programmed drum loop here gives the number a real thrust. While aggressive drum loops don’t often have a place within such atmospheric surroundings, it works well against sounds of the strings – and especially what sounds like a heavily treated electric guitar, adding very eastern qualities. ‘Restaurant’ has a quirky air, as Louise Taylor and Becca Topping’s viola and cello are plucked, over which Nick Pride adds similarly hard-plucked acoustic guitar strings. This is overlaid by a multi-voiced, occasionally complex arrangement which really highlights the vocal talent within the band.

The closing number ‘Isobel’ has an unsettling quality. Adam Kent’s sparse piano work is overlaid by slowly building, cleanly plucked guitar. Owen’s vocal has presence, but her words aren’t always clear; when joined in harmony by a second vocal, it’s almost dreamlike. As the track progresses, the percussion builds to a climax, before falling into something gentler.

Each of the five numbers featured on ‘Ground For Hearts To Swell’ is meticulously crafted and full of warmth, while the chamber pop elements set the band apart from any vaguely similar musicians. Sharks Took The Rest have a rich sound which will undoubtedly capture the minds of listeners who have spent years enjoying other female-fronted acts.  Recommended.

February/March 2011

RADIOHEAD – The King Of Limbs

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Radiohead’s debut ‘Pablo Honey’ threw the band into the public consciousness thanks to hit single ‘Creep’ (a track that’s long since worn out it’s welcome thanks to many cover versions), but overall, the album was patchy. When their second album ‘The Bends’ was released in 1995, the sense of growth was obvious. Every song featured was incredibly strong and Thom Yorke’s song writing showed an increasing maturity. Its 1997 follow-up ‘OK Computer’ was a brave release, which resenbled little of the band from previously, encompassing a far more cinematic style, bringing elements of progressive rock into the mix. This was most notable during the closing moments of ‘Exit Music For a Film’, which brazenly ripped off paid homage to Pink Floyd’s ‘Saucerful of Secrets’ (particularly the version from Floyd’s ‘Live at Pompeii’ movie’). Here was a band three albums into their career, and they were musically already a world away from their debut. [At this point, while NME were still praising Radiohead for being the greatest alternative rock band in the world, it was more obvious that this was the work of a band who’d spent their teenage years soaking up influence from 70s prog bands.]

They returned a couple of years later with ‘Kid A’, an album which seemed to polarise fans. Radiohead’s experimentation pushed itself to new levels over the course of the albums that followed. Some embraced the experimental turn their work had taken, while some were turned off, yet rather surprisingly, the band retained a huge fan base – and still appeared to be winning new converts.

Their eighth studio album arrived ahead of the planned release date as a downloadable release, on the 18th February 2011, to what appeared to be unanimous praise, though at times, it’s hard to work out why. For the first five of the eight featured numbers, Radiohead present a collection of soundscapes, beats and loops – and very little in the way of real songs.

A few bars into the opening number ‘Bloom’, it becomes obvious that ‘The King of Limbs’ can be another wilfully difficult release. Busy drum loops relentlessly drive what is essentially an electronic piece, almost lacking any tune. The drum loops are punctuated by an electronic parping noise until the arrival of Tom Yorke’s vocal line. He wails sporadically, his voice almost used as extra instrumentation, as opposed to singing in the conventional sense. The bass sound which creeps in now and again sounds rather good through a pair of 1970s speakers, but there’s not much to enjoy here. Imagine a beefed up electronica version of Tim Buckley’s ‘Starsailor’ but without any of the talent and you’d have a fair idea of what to expect. Striking, it may be, but for most people looking for a tune, its abstract nature probably won’t inspire further listening.

‘Morning Mr Magpie’ is a little softer on the ears, with the drum loop reduced to a rather pleasing hi-hat sound, while the rhythm guitar part shows a minimalistic brilliance with its staccato patterns. Colin Greenwood’s bass pattern has a danceable quality in places, helping to give the mechanical feel of the number some warmth. Even Yorke’s performance hints at Radiohead of old – breathy and passionate (while still an acquired taste). If you’re still looking for an actual song with an actual hook though, you may as well forget it. ‘Little By Little’ continues in a softer mood, but here, Yorke’s voice moves from breathy and passionate, into realms of tuneless and whiny – almost breaking completely in places. The guitar work adopts an enjoyable soft twang, but that’s about the only enjoyable element here. After a few minutes, the sounds of the drum loop and Yorke’s vocal become nothing more than an irritation.

‘Feral’ takes the drum sounds into darker territory, as Phil Selway offers a pattern which resembles another dance loop, over which there’s an odd sounding keyboard punctuating the rhythms. During the second half of the track, there’s a bass sound with a real presence which occasionally hints at 90s ambient dance. But despite a couple of good elements, this number doesn’t particularly work as a whole. Selway’s busy drum rhythms are bothered throughout by keyboard sounds and Thom Yorke, whose vocal drifts in and out, eventually becoming an irksome noise. The bass sound makes a return for ‘Lotus Flower’, which in places, has a pleasing tune – again very much driven by the rhythm section. Greenwood’s playing is laid back – almost sounding like it could have been a bass sample – and even the electronic and keyboard parts of the number present themselves in an unthreatening manner. Such a pity that Yorke has chosen to sing in falsetto throughout – without that, it could have possibly been worth listening to.

The last three numbers present a surprising turnaround of fortunes. In a nod to the past, ‘Give Up The Ghost’ is a sparse haunting number led by acoustic guitar. With minimal percussion and a few electric guitars sounding a little like theramins, Yorke takes place front and centre, delivering a ‘Fake Plastic Trees’ style lament. As a Radiohead fan of old, I very much welcome the presence of such an accessible number (one which could have easily been an ‘OK Computer b-side). As the track pulls to a close, Colin Greenwood’s bass rumbles in a lead fashion and then everything fades out (no pun intended) leaving me wanting more. Similarly, the gentleness of ‘Codex’ has more in common with Radiohead’s history than most of ‘The King of Limbs’. A simple, yet cinematic piano line provides the basis for a heartfelt vocal; Yorke in strong voice (perhaps his strongest this time around). The voice and pinao are joined in places by a dark horn sound and a few strings, to create something almost beautiful. It’s almost as if ‘Codex’ and ‘Give Up The Ghost’ are a reward for old Radiohead fans who haven’t given up on the album by this point.

Closing the album, the Massive Attack/Zero 7 inspired ‘Separator’ utilises yet another great drum part from Selway, accompanied by one of Greenwood’s more interesting bass riffs. It’s busy, again with a slight hint of dance, this time with a little funk thrown in for good measure. Midway, a very clean-toned guitar adds an almost sunny accompaniment – and from that point, the track builds to it’s climax. Yorke’s vocals are reverbed and could, once again, be best described as additional music, since it’s very hard to pick out any of the lyrics (aside from a brief refrain of ‘wake me up’ which creeps in at the end). Arguably one of the best tunes ‘The King of Limbs’ has to offer, it makes me wish the disc hadn’t stopped there (despite disliking most of what came previously). How different the album may have been, if only Radiohead could have tapped into their trip-hop qualities earlier…

While it’s necessary to appreciate bands move on and experiment (and in some cases change their sound almost completely), it’s almost remarkable how Radiohead have managed to retain such a huge following by releasing such challenging music as they have from 1997 onward. Over the years, there have been other artists performing music with equally interesting results which have barely had a look in by comparison. ‘The King of Limbs’ as a whole may be more experimental than anything Radiohead have attempted before, but it’s first half is almost devoid of songs. A couple of numbers are even devoid of tunes. Thankfully, the second half is more accessible, but still doesn’t grab the listener in the same way the band’s best was once easily capable. They won’t care, of course. Those who enjoy Radiohead’s wanton electronic experiements will praise this album to the hilt – as for the older fans…at least ‘The Bends’ can thankfully be revisited time and again without it’s brilliance ever waning.

March 2011