FEATURE: An Arresting and Soul-Moving Title Track: Kate Bush’s The Sensual World at Thirty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

An Arresting and Soul-Moving Title Track

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1989/PHOTO CREDIT: Guido Harari

Kate Bush’s The Sensual World at Thirty-Five

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AHEAD of marking the album’s…

thirty-fifth anniversary, I wanted to spend some time with its title track. The Sensual World was the first single released from one of Kate Bush’s most acclaimed albums. Released on 18th September, 1989, this amazing single was a departure from what we heard on 1985’s Hounds of Love. Not that The Sensual World was the next single after that album. Bush released Experiment IV in 1986. That was the only single released from her greatest hits album, The Whole Story. The Sensual World was a new phase. Not a massive departure from Hounds of Love, it at least did show new side’s to Bush’s music. The first single released in her thirties, there is a depth and lyrical aspect to the song that hinted at a different approach. If Hounds of Love was quite a masculine album in a lot of ways – especially with percussion and sound -, The Sensual World was more feminine. Regarded as one of her greatest singles, I wanted to celebrate and explore The Sensual World ahead of its thirty-fifth anniversary. I will go deeper with the song. Before that, Kate Bush Encyclopedia provided some critical reception to the song. Some words from Kate Bush about The Sensual World:

“Critical reception

The first Kate Bush single in three years was met quite positive reviews.

A dazzling return to form after a few slightly indifferent releases. The best song she’s written since ‘Army Dreamers’, even if slightly on the long side.

David Giles, Music week, 23 september 1989

She’s got bloomin’ sexy… in which talk of desire, touching, and Kate’s own breasts is rife. But these aren’t merely shock tactics… a delicate and all-consuming song.

Tim Southwell, Record Mirror, 23 September 1989

She sings of a deep sensuality that ensures that I have to wear baggy trousers when I dance. Beautiful, warm, and ever-lasting.

Kerrang!, 23 September 1989

Kate about ‘The Sensual World’

Because I couldn’t get permission to use a piece of Joyce it gradually turned into the song about Molly Bloom the character stepping out of the book, into the real world and the impressions of sensuality. Rather than being in this two-dimensional world, she’s free, let loose to touch things, feel the ground under her feet, the sunsets, just how incredibly sensual a world it is. (…) In the original piece, it’s just ‘Yes’ – a very interesting way of leading you in. It pulls you into the piece by the continual acceptance of all these sensual things: ‘Ooh wonderful!’ I was thinking I’d never write anything as obviously sensual as the original piece, but when I had to rewrite the words, I was trapped. How could you recreate that mood without going into that level of sensuality? So there I was writing stuff that months before I’d said I’d never write. I have to think of it in terms of pastiche, and not that it’s me so much.

Len Brown, ‘In The Realm Of The Senses’. NME (UK), 7 October 1989

The song is about someone from a book who steps out from this very black and white 2-D world into the real world. The immediate impressions was the sensuality of this world – the fact that you can touch things, that is so sensual – you know… the colours of trees, the feel of the grass on the feet, the touch of this in the hand – the fact that it is such a sensual world. I think for me that’s an incredibly important thing about this planet, that we are surrounded by such sensuality and yet we tend not to see it like that. But I’m sure for someone who had never experienced it before it would be quite a devastating thing. (…) I love the sound of church bells. I think they are extraordinary – such a sound of celebration. The bells were put there because originally the lyrics of the song were taken from the bookUlyssesby James Joyce, the words at the end of the book by Molly Bloom, but we couldn’t get permission to use the words. I tried for a long time – probably about a year – and they wouldn’t let me use them, so I had to create something that sounded like those original word, had the same rhythm, the same kind of feel but obviously not being able to use them. It all kind of turned in to a pastiche of it and that’s why the book character, Molly Bloom, then steps out into the real world and becomes one of us.

Roger Scott, Interview. Radio 1 (UK), 14 October 1989

There’s a few songs that have been difficult to write. I think the most frustrating and difficult to write was the song, ‘The Sensual World’. Uh, you’ve probably heard some of the story, that originally it was written to the lyrics at the end of ‘Ulysses’, and uh, I just couldn’t believe how the whole thing came together, it was so… It was just like it was meant to be. We had this sort of instrumental piece, and uh, I had this idea for like a rhythmic melody, and I just thought of the book, and went and got it, and the words fitted – they justfitted, the whole thing fitted, it was ridiculous. You know the song was saying, ‘Yes! Yes!’. And when I asked for permission, you know, they said, ‘No! No!’ That was one of the hardest things for me to swallow. I can’t tell you how annoyed I was that, um, I wasn’t allowed to have access to this great piece of work that I thought was public. And in fact I really didn’t think you had to get permission but that you would just pay a royalty. So I was really, really frustrated about it. And, um… kind of rewrote the words, trying to keep the same – same rhythm and sounds. And, um, eventually, through rewriting the words we also changed the piece of music that now happens in the choruses, so if they hadn’t obstructed the song, it would have been a very different song. So, to look at it positively, although it was very difficult, in the end, I think it was, it was probably worth all the trouble. Thank you very much.

Kate Bush Con, 1990”.

The video itself is arresting and cinematic. Co-directed by Kate Bush and Peter Richardson, it is one of her most iconic. Reaching number twelve in the U.K., it was her most successful chart placing in the country since Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God). Technically, if you count the Peter Gabriel song, Don’t Give Up, it was the highest placing since that song - though in Kate Bush’s universe, The Sensual World was seen as a return to form. The history is interesting. When Bush re-recorded the song and titled it Flower of the Mountain for 2011’s Director’s Cut, she finally got permission to use text from James Joyce’s Ulysses. Whether this version was better than the original. Many argue that The Sensual World is better because of its suggestiveness and Bush’s lyrics. How she produced her own version of Molly Bloom’s soliloquy. There is not a lot written about the song itself. People explore the album and the songs from it though, for its amazing title track, there are not that many words dedicated to it. It is a pity, as The Sensual World is one of the most interesting and arresting songs! I love the composition and musical richness of The Sensual World. Paddy Bush on whips. Some incredible bass work from Del Palmer. Charlie Morgan’s percussion. The most essential and powerful musical element is the fiddle from John Sheahan, uilleann pipes from Davy Spilane and Dónal Lunny’s bouzouki. Sheahan and Lunny worked alongside Kate Bush on Hounds of Love.

Some of Kate Bush’s most evocative and poetic lyrics can be found on The Sensual World. The verses are incredibly moving and vivid: “Then I’d taken the kiss of seedcake back from his mouth/Going deep South, go down, mmh, yes/Took six big wheels and rolled our bodies/Off of Howth Head and into the flesh, mmh, yes”. I do love Bush’s words. How she builds her own world. Touches al the senses: “To where the water and the earth caress/And the down of a peach says mmh, yes/Do I look for those millionaires/Like a Machiavellian girl would/When I could wear a sunset? mmh, yes”. I like the idea of Kate Bush hearing Irish actress Siobhan McKenna reading the closing soliloquy from James Joyce’s Ulysses. Her character recounting her earliest sexual experience with her husband-to-be. Bush felt that that Joyce’s text was in the public domain, so she paired it with the backing track that she had created. Jimmy Murakami was the man she approached to make a music video at the time. He would later direct her for King of the Mountain. That was the single from 2005’s Aerial. I think, in some ways, that song and The Sensual World share some DNA. Also, that title connection between King of the Mountain and Flower of the Mountain. It must have been frustrating not being able to use text from Ulysses. Kate Bush had always had an interest in exploring sounds and scents from other nations. I think this came more to the fore on The Sensual World and its follow-up, The Red Shoes (1993). In terms of genres, Bush exploring everywhere from Africa to Europe. Working with the Trio Bulgarka on both albums. The incredible Bulgarian vocal trio. A traditional Macedonian piece of music, Nevestinsko Oro (Bride’s Dance), was in her mind. It makes me think back to her earliest years and her brother Paddy introducing her to unusual and untraditional sounds. Music that many of her friends and peers would not have known about.

 PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

I want to end with section of an interview from 1989. Kate Bush was speaking with NME’s Len Brown. Bush gave a song-by-song guide to the album. I think it is very interesting reading the interview and how Bush approached the title track for The Sensual World. Almost defining the album in terms of its energy and lyrics, this was Bush exploring different sides to her artistry and personality. Always inspired by literature and film, The Sensual World is one of her most captivating and acclaimed songs:

“Four years from Hounds Of Love, 12 months since we last met in the company of three Bulgarian grannies called Trio Bulgarka, Kate’s changed little physically. Still petite, naturally older, her hair’s still long and henna-ed and the nervous laugh is as infectious as ever.

Musically she’s been gone a long time. Sure there’ve been collaborations (Gabriel’s ‘Don’t Give Up’), charitable outings (Amnesty, Comic Relief, Ferry Aid) and The Whole Story compilation, but The Sensual World is her first fresh substantial work since the ‘Experiment IV’ single in late ’86. Reasonable people were beginning to wonder whether, at last, she’d lost it completely and thrown in the towel.

What’s always been remarkable about Kate Bush has been the ability to withdraw from the music world, escape from the machine, and return months or years later with something rejuvenating, original, set apart from chart-fodder disposable pop. Like Bowie in the 70s, Bush in the 80s has been one of the true oddities, exceptions to the rules. Always out of step, always unique.

And always, as The Sensual World implies, provocative. Bells ring as you enter her ‘Sensual World’, bells of celebration, of sensual joy. "The communication of music is very much like making love," she once said, so it’s entirely appropriate that she should derive her title track from James Joyce’s Ulysses and, in particular, Molly Bloom’s thoughts on sex, sensuality and oysters at 2/6 per dozen.

"Because I couldn’t get permission to use a piece of Joyce it gradually turned into the songs about Molly Bloom the character stepping out of the book, into the real world and the impressions of sensuality," says Kate, softly, almost childlike. "Rather than being in this two dimensional world, she’s free, let loose to touch things, feel the ground under her feet, the sunsets, just how incredibly sensual a world it is.

"I originally heard the piece read by Siobhan McKenna years ago and I thought ‘My God! This is extraordinary, what a piece of writing!’ it’s a very unusual train of thought, very attractive. First I got the "mmh yes" and that made me think of Molly Bloom’s speech, and we had this piece of music in the studio already so it came together really quickly. Then, because I couldn’t get permission to use Joyce, it took another year changing it to what it is now. Typical innit!"

The result is extraordinarily sensual mouth music, far removed from the cod-pieced crassness that usually passes from physical love songs: "And at first with the charm around him, mmh yes / he loosened it so if it slipped between my breasts / He’d rescue it, mmh yes".

"In the original piece it’s just ‘Yes!" – a very interesting way of leading you in, it pulls you into the piece by the continual acceptance of all these sensual things. ‘Ooh wonderful!’ I was thinking I’d never write anything as obviously sensual as the original piece but when I had to rewrite the words I was trapped.

"How could you recreate that mood without going into that level of sensuality? So there I was writing stuff that months before I’d said I’d never write," she laughs. "I have to think of it in terms of pastiche and not that it’s me so much."

Having begun her career on The Kick Insider singing lines like, "Oh I need it oh oh feel it feel it my love" and "feeling of sticky love inside", and then gone on inLionheart to write a lyric like "the more I think of sex the better it gets", her reluctance to get too sensual, too fruity a decade later may seem a little strange.

But as Bush has increasingly gained control over the presentation of her music and her image during this period, stepping back from early marketing attempts to titillate (God, how they worked!) these reservations are understandable.

She claims The Sensual World contains the most "positive female energy" in her work to date and compositions like ‘This Woman’s Work’ tend to enforce that idea.

"I think it’s to do with me coming to terms with myself on different levels. In some ways, like on Hounds of Love, it was important for me to get across the sense of power in the songs that I’d associated with male energy and music. But I didn’t feel that this time and I was very much wanting to express myself as a woman in my music rather than as a woman wanting to sound as powerful as a man.

"And definitely ‘The Sensual World’, the track, was very much a female track for me. I felt it was a really new expression, feeling good about being a woman musically."

But isn’t it odd that this feminist or feminine perspective should have been inspired by a man, Joyce?

"Yes, in some ways but it’s also the idea of Molly escaping from the author, out into the real world, being this real human rather than the character, stepping out of the page into the sensual world."

So is this concept of sensuality the most important thing to you at the moment, is it one of the life forces?

"Yes, it’s about contact with humans, it could all come down to the sensual level. Touch? Yes, even if it’s not physical touch, reaching out and touching people by moving them. I think it’s a very striking part of this planet, the fact there is so much for us to enjoy. The whole of nature is really designed for everything to have a good time doing what they should be doing…

"Fancy being a bee, leading an incredible existence, all these flowers designed just for you, flying into the runway, incredible colours, some trip…"

Mmh, buzz.

Many mumbles have breathed their last since Kate Bush first arrived on our screens, flouncing about in dry ice and funeral shroud, oddly crowing ‘Wuthering Heights’; obviously different and apart from any musical movement before or since. But whereas the all-conquering, universally acclaimed Hounds Of Love affair at least slotted into the-then pop world, The Sensual World is clearly even more out of step with the current piss poor post-SAW scene.

Probably because it’s got a slightly ethnic feel, founded on Kate’s use of Irish and Bulgarian musics and musicians in the creative process. Perhaps because she’s been free from pop for so long. Maybe because she’s crossed the threshold of 30?

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in the cover photo from The Sensual World’s single/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

"God! Yes, I’m sure it’s all tied in with it," she laughs. "I think it’s a very important time from 28 to 32-ish, where there’s some kind of turning point. Someone said in your teens you get the physical puberty and between 28 and 32 mental puberty. Let’s fact it, you’ve got to start growing up when you’re 30, it does make you feel differently, I feel very positive having gone through the last couple of years."

She’s not specific about what she’s actually gone through in recent years, apart from the usual trials by media. If you were to scan back through the smeared pages of cheaper organs you would probably come to the conclusion that she’s been a) pregnant b) fighting drug and alcohol addiction c) 25 stone and d) having several flings with Peter Gabriel.

More credibly, it seems she’s been reclusively struggling with her music and even living in bliss (somewhere near Kent, apparently) with long-term lover, bassist and moustachioed-mixer Del Palmer.

And yet one is naturally tempted to peer into The Sensual World and inquire whether or not a song such as ‘Between A Man And A Woman’ is a personal account of romantic difficulties? ("It’s so hard for love to stay together / With the modern Western pressures".)

"But anything you write, people tend to think it’s about you," she says, nervously. "Like Woody Allen, his films are obviously very personal, there’s obviously an awful lot of him in his work, but you see him being interviewed and as soon as he’s asked if it’s personal he gets really defensive, it’s a very awkward area…”

In a recent feature, MOJO ranked The Sensual World twenty-second in their top fifty Kate Bush songs listing. It is interesting reading what they say about a song that still sounds fascinating and moving to this day. Thirty-five years after it was released into the world:

“Like trains of thought continually tumbling” is how Kate Bush described Molly Bloom’s soliloquy at the end of James Joyce’s 1922 novel, Ulysses. It isn’t hard to see why the rhapsodic conclusion of Joyce’s modernist masterpiece took root in the singer’s subconscious. With Wuthering Heights, 11 years previously, Bush had alchemised Catherine Earnshaw’s tormented pleas for Heathcliff’s forgiveness into a sexual fever dream and if anything, Molly’s speech was an even more suitable case for such a treatment. From the first “Mmh, yes” that emerges from the opening peals of wedding bells, Bush’s languorous performance astrally vaults the listener to the mother of all postcoitally sunny Sunday mornings. One ironic consequence of The Sensual World’s success was that, by the time Bush set about re-recording it for 2011’s Director’s Cut, Joyce’s estate had clearly been won over by the purity of her intentions. With permission now granted, the new version – retitled Flower Of The Mountain – duly reverted to the original words, and saw Bush confer a breathier, worldlier ambience on Bloom, as if channeling the woman enjoying the memory of first love, rather than the woman in the memory. For all of that, it’s the first version that remains the definitive one”.

In 2018, The Guardian ranked The Sensual World in fifteenth. That was in their feature where they were placing her singles. What Hi-Fi? published a feature this year where they named the songs of Kate Bush which are best to test your stereo to. The ones with the best sound. The Sensual World was in there. Also this year, Classic Pop placed The Sensual World ninth in the top forty Kate Bush songs. A track that is respected and regarded highly today. Even if it was an unconventional single release and very different to what was being released in 1989, there is no doubting the fact that it is popular and seen as one of Bush’s best moments. So much groove, sensuality and dance through the song. This waltz and dizzying dream that the listener gets sucked into. So many scents that entice the heart and entice the mind. It is a wonderful song that I first heard in the 1990s. Ahead of The Sensual World album turning thirty-five, I wanted to spend time with the single. Released on 18th September, 1989, we need to spotlight and celebrate this song. Introducing this amazing new Kate Bush album, it was clear there was a mix of positivity and slight confusion from critics. Some maybe not embracing this new direction. Many noticing the clear potential and prowess of the song. It is both grand and intimate. I thought that I knew everything about The Sensual World’s title track. I have learned something new writing this feature. Amazing that new layers of this stunning track are being revealed…

AFTER thirty-five years.

FEATURE: Juicy: The Notorious B.I.G.’s Ready to Die at Thirty

FEATURE:

 

 

Juicy

The Notorious B.I.G.’s Ready to Die at Thirty

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ON 13th September…

we will mark thirty years of The Notorious B.I.G.’s debut album, Ready to Die. Its title is quite chilling, The Rap prodigy was killed less than three years after its release. He died at the age of twenty-four. I want to spend some time with one of the greatest debut albums of the 1990s. An artist who burned briefly but helped change the course of Hip-Hop history. Ready to Die was recorded from 1993 to 1994 at The Hit Factory and D&D Studios in New York City. This groundbreaking debut  album, a loose semi-autobiographical concept, tells of the rapper's experiences as a young criminal. We lost The Notorious B.I.G. days before Life After Death in 1997. I want to bring in a few features about this incredible album. One of the very best of all time. The first of three features is Stereogum. They highlighted and dissected Ready to Die on its twentieth anniversary in 2014:

“Word around the campfire is that Biggie Smalls, when he was recording Ready To Die, wanted to record a track with DJ Premier and M.O.P. and Jeru The Damaja. Can you even imagine what that would sound like? How fucking incredible that would’ve been? There are precious few Biggie/Premier collabs, but every last one of them is a solid-gold classic. Premier’s creative peak coincided exactly with Biggie’s all-too-brief career. And Biggie could do no wrong during those Ready To Die sessions. Imagine if he was on a track with three guys who knew that Premier sound inside and out. Biggie could be as raw and rugged as M.O.P., and he could be as intense and cerebral as Jeru. If he’d been on a track with those guys together, he would’ve had to be both at the same time, and he could’ve done it. But Sean “Puff Daddy” Combs vetoed the plan. And here’s what kills me: Puffy was right. He wanted Ready To Die to have a slick, populist sense of focus to it, and that’s exactly what it had. As much as I want to hear that hypothetical collab — and I would punch a puppy in the eye to hear it — it’s honestly better that the song never had a chance to exist. Ready To Die is, for my money, the best rap album ever made. It is as close to full-length perfection as rap music has ever come. I have a hard time believing that any extra song, even that song, could make it better. Best to leave Ready To Die alone, to let it be great.

There are a few non-Biggie voices on Ready To Die. There are those shards of older rap classics on the intro track, those sampled swirls of old soul songs. There are those breathy Puffy interjections. There’s reggae singer Diana King growling all over “Respect.” But there is only one guest-rapper on Ready To Die, and that turned out to be a very canny casting decision. The one guy is Method Man, easily the hottest rapper in New York at the time, a guy who carried a mysterious forbidding energy to everything he did. Meth, at his peak, had a dangerous sing-songy purr, a way of hopping around the track while staying dead in the pocket. Everything he said sounded cool as fuck. He had gravity.

Every single song on Ready To Die sounds like the final word in an argument. “Juicy” remains the best up-from-nothing inspirational song in rap history, transcending because Biggie knew how to take the specifics of his own life and make them resonate as something bigger, something mythic: “I never thought it could happen, this rapping stuff / I was too used to packing gats and stuff.” He never works to make himself sound larger-than-life. Instead, he’s vulnerable and goofy, remembering taping mix shows on the radio and freezing when the landlord cut the heat off, and using those hardships to luxuriate in everything he’d earned. But for all his warmth, Biggie could be chillingly cold and violent. And it’s hard to imagine a better crime narrative than “Warning”: Biggie playing the two sides of a stressful conversation, slowly building tension, layering on details until those details take on their own character. “They heard about the pounds you got down in Georgetown / And they heard you got half of Virginia locked down” — another rapper could’ve made a whole album out of the backstory that that one line implies, but here it’s just another narrative touch, a piece of the puzzle. But when he does make threats, he’s tense and concise, never wasting words: “Fuck around and get hardcore / C4 to your door, no beef no more.” It’s expert pulp-fiction storytelling, as vivid and brutal and economical as a Parker novel.

Biggie contained multitudes. The whole drug-kingpin character wasn’t exactly new in rap, but nobody had ever pulled it off with anything like Biggie’s level of panache. And he did it so well that everyone who came after, including his friend Jay-Z seemed to be playing catchup. But Biggie was, of course, never a kingpin. He was a midlevel street guy, and the album has even more power when he’s talking about the fears and hazards that come with that trade. He could confess to younger, dumber mistakes, sympathizing with his younger self but still conveying the idea that the decisions he was making were stupid ones: “Put the drugs on the shelf? Nah, I couldn’t see it / Scarface, King of New York, I wanna be it / Rap was secondary, money was necessary / Till I got incarcerated, kinda scary… Time to contemplate: Damn, where did I fail? / All the money I stacked was all the money for bail.”

If there’s a narrative thrust to Ready To Die, it’s in Biggie’s conflicts with his mother, a woman who would become famous as a public mourner after his death. On first song “Things Done Changed,” he’s describing the savage age he grew up in, but he’s reveling in it, not mourning the supposedly-more-innocent time that had passed. There’s a twinge of bitterness to the song (“Back in the day, our parents used to take care of us / Look at ‘em now, they even fuckin’ scared of us”), but there are more threats, more boasts about the guns he’s carrying. Throughout the album, he mentions arguments with his mom, ignored advice, times when he got kicked out of the house. He lists his mother’s breast cancer as the reason he’s stressed. He gives off a vague impression that he knows he’s wrong during all his fights, but he never changes his ways. On the album-ending “Suicidal Thoughts,” he gets so deep into his own failings that he portrays himself killing himself, shooting himself in the head while he’s on the phone with Puff. It’s a weird and telling ending to such an otherwise-triumphant album, and a chilling listen in light of the way Biggie’s life would end just three years later. That ending, and those arguments with his mother, turn every moment of overcoming the odds into a hollow victory, and they add pathos to an album that could be exultant. On Ready To Die, every silver lining has a cloud.

I haven’t even mentioned Biggie’s voice yet, a booming clarion that cut through everything around it. That voice was malleable — he loved playing two different characters on the same song, and he could always make both of them distinct — but it was a bulldozer, not a finesse instrument. That voice was all blunt-voice power, which made it all the more startling when you noticed the writerly poise that went into so much of what Biggie was saying. There are turns of phrase on Ready To Die that couldn’t possibly be any better-crafted. “I don’t chase ‘em, I replace ‘em”: I think I giggled with stupid glee for 20 minutes the first time I heard that line. “How you living, Biggie Smalls? In mansion and Benzes, giving ends to my friends, and it feels stupendous”: That’s probably my favorite good-life line of all time, a note-perfect description of how good it feels to help the people around you. There’s a reason why so many rappers have stolen so many lines from Ready To Die at various points: When those lines entered your brain, they wouldn’t leave. (There’s also the reprehensible shit, the robbing pregnant women and “talk slick, I beat you right.” But in the way the album discusses Biggie’s own failings, it’s possible to think of those moments as Biggie adding more moral wrinkles to his character. That’s how I’d like to think of them, anyway.)

In a way, Ready To Die sounds even more current 20 years later than Illmatic, the other impossible-not-to-discuss New York rap masterpiece of 1994 — and that was an album explicitly designed to stand outside of time. Ready To Die was focused on sounding current in 1994, but rap has never gotten over it, and we still have stars like Rick Ross who are trying to equal its sense of larger-than-life cool. Illmatic is an absolutely incredible album, but one of its greatest assets is the way Nas sounds like he’s lost in a dream, completely trapped within his own head. Biggie doesn’t sound like that. Even when he’s rapping about workaday struggles, he radiates impossible confidence. He was 21 and 22 when he was recording Ready To Die, and he sounded like he already knew he was the baddest motherfucker in the whole city. Think of how you were at 21 or 22. Imagine feeling that self-assured. It’s impossible. It doesn’t compute. And that’s one of the things about Biggie’s way-too-early death that stings the worst: If he sounded that confident, that put-together, at 21, how would he sound now”.

In terms of accolades, Ready to Die has been heralded as a classic by so many sources and sites. One of the greatest Hardcore Rap albums of all time, this sensational debut reinvented East Coast Rap. For those who have not heard Ready to Die, its thirtieth anniversary is a perfect opportunity. It still sounds like nothing else! A truly original and mesmeric work of supreme confidence and invention from The Notorious B.I.G. Earlier this year, Rolling Stone ranked Ready to Die twenty-second in their list of the 500 best albums ever:

“Ready To Die’ is the debut record of The Notorious B.I.G., and the only one to be released within his lifetime. Biggie Smalls was signed by Sean “Puffy” Combs to Uptown Records after the latter heard his demo tape. Biggie would subsequently start recording the album in 1993 but when Combs was fired from the label, Biggie’s future was left in the balance. Combs would ultimately start Bad Boy Records, to which Biggie would be signed, but in the interim he made ends meet by selling drugs. By the time the recording was finish, Biggie was 22-years-old.

The record opens with the narrative of a woman giving birth. As the baby comes we hear the song ‘Pusherman’ by Curtis Mayfield playing. Brilliant subtlety as that single was released in 1972, the same year that Smalls aka Christopher Wallace was born. This gives an indication that the record is somewhat autobiographical. That song is about a drug dealer, foreshadowing Wallace’s brief stint later on. The track then cycles through ‘80s and early ‘90s Hip hop songs, ‘Rapper’s Delight,’ ‘Top Billin’ and ‘Tha Shiznit,’ a clever device to illustrate the passage of time. It ends with Biggie being released from jail, mirroring his real life as he was arrested in 1990 for dealing crack. Lead single starts off the lyrics, “Yeah, this album is dedicated/To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'/To all the people that lived above the buildings that I was hustlin' in front of/Called the police on me when I was just tryin' to make some money to feed my daughter (it's all good)/And all the niggas in the struggle.” The song documents his struggles and rise, discussing how he had realised his dreams. Second single, ‘Big Poppa’ is one of the most recognisable Hip Hop songs of the ‘90s. Heavily sampling ‘Between The Sheets’ by The Isley Brothers, the title references on of his nicknames. Third single, ‘One More Chance’ held the record for highest debuting rap single on the charts at #5, until that record was smashed by Puff Daddy and the song, ‘I’ll Be Missing You,’ which was a tribute to Biggie himself. The song interpolates Jackson 5’s ‘I Want You Back’ in the chorus. The album is smooth and his voice is one of the most recognisable in Hip Hop. His flow was just so natural. Biggie Smalls would elevate East Coast Hip Hop and raise the bar. His ability to tell stories was second to none in Hip Hop. Wallace would be murdered 3 years later, 16 days before the release of the follow up, ‘Life After Death’ (#179). Never before have the titles of two albums had such a sense of dramatic irony”.

Actually, there are a couple more features I will come to. NME published a feature in 2019, twenty-five years after the release of Ready to Die. They explored nine surprising things about an era-defining album. I don’t think I heard the album in 1994. I came to it a bit later. In perhaps the best year for music ever, Ready to Die perhaps didn’t get quite the same sort of acclaim and celebration as others. It is clear Biggie’s debut album influenced a whole generation of rappers who followed:

“It doesn’t romanticise thug life

The Notorious B.I.G. kept things real when it came to describing his life as a drug dealer, making sure to include the downsides of trapping, like the threat of being caught by the police or running into issues with other dealers. That honesty added an extra grit to ‘Ready To Die’ that means its still one of the most real portrayals of thug life in hip-hop.

Contrary to popular belief, Biggie didn’t always freestyle the lyrics

Part of the folklore surrounding ‘Ready To Die’ paints Biggie as a rapper who had no need for a pen and paper, memorising his bars and delivering them off the top of his head instead. But that wasn’t always true – Method Man told Complex in 2011 that the late star had once shown him the lyrics to ‘The What’ as he was writing them, specifically the line “I’ve got more Glocks and tecs than you/I make it hot, n****s won’t even stand next to you.”

One of its tracks was included in an anthology of African American literature

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Way before Kendrick Lamar was picking up Pulitzers, Biggie’s tracks were also being recognised as masterpieces of writing. ‘Ready To Die’’s ‘Things Done Changed’, which explores how life on the streets had changed, was one of only a handful of hip-hop tracks to be included in the Norton Anthology of African American Literature.

The samples are on point

Before ‘Ready To Die’ was being sampled by the likes of Kanye West and Travis Scott, it was Biggie who was doing the sampling. While some samples were removed from the record after some legal issues, it still contains plenty of great interpolations, from Isaac Hayes’ ‘Walk On By’ on ‘Warning’ to Curtis Mayfield’s stone-cold classic ‘Superfly’ on ‘Intro’.

The baby on the cover was paid only $150

The sleeve for ‘Ready To Die’ features a small child with an afro sitting in the middle of an oasis of white space. While you might assume it to be a childhood photo of Biggie himself, the boy in question is actually Keithroy Yearwood. The now-25-year-old was hired through a modelling agency and paid just $150 (£121) for the shoot.

It didn’t get the recognition it has now until after its creator’s death

Sure, the reviews for ‘Ready To Die’ were good, but the record wasn’t the runaway success you might expect for something regularly near the time of best albums of all time lists. Instead, it missed out on recognition from the Grammys when its only nomination – Best Rap Solo Performance for ‘Big Poppa’ – lost out to Coolio’s ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’.

Some of it is pretty dated now

“Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis,” raps Big on ‘Juicy’. “When I was dead broke, man, I couldn’t picture this.” The track detailed the rapper’s rise to the top, with those two games consoles listed as luxuries beyond his younger self’s wildest dreams. Later, he adds a “50-inch screen, money green leather sofa” and “a limousine with a chauffeur” to his list, but it’s those initial picks that haven’t stood the test of time. These days, they just seem quaint compared to the VR machines he could have rapped about in 2019.

You could get a copy of the album by visiting Biggie’s Brooklyn house

It seems unlikely that any of today’s young rappers would be found pushing copies of their records from their homes, but Biggie did just that back in the ‘90s, according to Busta Rhymes. “I watched Biggie give away ‘Ready to Die’ and thought he was crazy,” he told Vlad TV. “From his house, dubbing the album on a double cassette deck and had a line in front of his crib on St. James like he was selling the best coke ever. That was like the most illest shit because it was his way of marketing himself.”

The title is chillingly prophetic

The record’s narrative charts Biggie’s journey from life to death, with the final track ‘Suicidal Thoughts’ finding him ready to end it all. The album’s title turned out to be something of a tragic prophecy – in 1997, two weeks before the release of his second album ‘Life After Death’, the rapper was murdered in LA”.

There are other articles I want to direct people to. Billboard published a track-by-track celebration of Ready to Die on its twentieth anniversary. Ten years later, Ready to Die still holds so much power and importance. A seminal Rap album from a great that was lost far too soon. I want to end with a feature from Tidal. In 2019, they highlighted the timelessness of a monumental album. One that does not skip a detail lyrically. It is almost unmatched in terms of its skill. A phenomenal debut from The Notorious B.I.G. One everyone should listen to:

“In a letter sent to his school teacher George Izambard, the late French prodigy Arthur Rimbaud wrote: “The suffering is tremendous, but one must bear up against it to be born a poet, and I know that’s what I am.” A poet wasn’t merely a writer to Rimbaud, a poet was a thief of fire.

Christopher Wallace, born 81 years after Rimbaud’s passing, did not call himself a poet, but throughout his 1994 debut album, Ready to Die, under the hip-hop pseudonym The Notorious B.I.G., the Brooklyn-born rapper found the words to describe coming of age as a black man in a New York City that burned of cocaine smoke and sung the harmonies of gunfire.

On the album’s cinematic intro, a baby is born. Vignettes follow, revealing an impoverished upbringing. The baby, now a grown man, ends the song by sticking up a train ― a thief of money, not fire.

The first six songs that follow the intro ― “Things Done Changed,” “Gimme the Loot,” “Machine Gun Funk,” “Warning” and “Ready to Die” ― all encompass the ache of poverty and how starved bellies manifest into a language of violence, robberies and drug dealing. Ready to Die is an album made by a natural-born rhymer who saw the humor in the struggle, who found poetry in the tremendous suffering that unfolded in an unfair world.

The Notorious B.I.G., also known as Biggie Smalls, doesn’t skip a detail lyrically. The beatings are brutal, the sex is pornographic, the joy is inspiring, the stress is suffocating. It’s writing rooted in fantasy and realism ― too vivid to be imaginative, too unbelievable to be trusted as authentic.

Along with razor-sharp storytelling, Biggie grounds Ready to Die as an autobiographical period piece with emotional nuance. There’s sincerity found across the 19 tracks, but few lyrics better represent Biggie’s earnestness than the timeless statement made before the album’s lead single “Juicy” begins:

This album is dedicated to all the teachers that told me I’d never amount to nothin’. To all the people that lived above the buildings that I was hustlin’ in front of that called the police on me when I was just tryin’ to make some money to feed my daughter and all the niggas in the struggle, you know what I’m sayin? It’s all good, baby baby.

In December ’94, three months after the release of Ready to Die, famed author, culture critic, and prominent hip-hop journalist Touré wrote an impressive profile of The Notorious B.I.G. for The New York Times titled “POP MUSIC; Biggie Smalls, Rap’s Man of the Moment.”

“Though many rappers exaggerate about the lives they led before becoming performers, some are actually former drug dealers. Few have ever been as open in detailing their criminal past as Biggie Smalls, and none have ever been as clear about the pain they felt at the time,” he wrote, praising Ready to Die as a balanced and honest portrait of a dealer.

Almost 25 years later, over the phone, Touré is still enamored with the duality of the late rapper’s debut. “Yeah, you’re selling this poison, but you’re doing it for family,” he exclaims, still amused by a drug dealer who berated his neighbors for suggesting how he chose to feed his daughter.

The way Touré views it, Ready to Die added layers to a character often depicted as only treacherous. “Nobody thinks they’re the villain or the bad guy, right? You’re always the hero of your movie,” he says.

Duality is essential to the underworld narrative on Ready to Die. In this story, no one is pure and everyone is hungry, which leads to unethical decisions and unwavering paranoia. Even success is tainted (“Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper”).

“I’m scared to death. Scared of getting my brains blown out,” Biggie confessed to Touré, an admission that came three years before his violent, unsolved murder. But for all the fear that B.I.G carried, there was equal, if not more, love for the rising rap star.

“Dude was big,” Touré recalls, finding no better way to describe Biggie’s career growth following Ready to Die. “Coming out of the Apollo that night, cars were playing his music. He was the total package. It was no performance. He was just real.”

Robert Christgau, one of the first and most revered legends in music criticism and the former Village Voice chief music critic and senior editor, wrote his review of the album in 1999, not 1994, for a book collection. “I’m outraged when anyone gets robbed, beaten, or pimped, descendants of slaves especially,” Christgau wrote, a visceral reaction to the “Gimme The Loot” lyric, “I’ve been robbin’ motherfuckas since the slave ships.” The next sentence begins, “Hence, I’m not inclined to like this motherfucker. But the more I listen, the more I do.”

“On the one hand, that’s a great line,” Christgau remarks to TIDAL, adding, “but on the other, it offended me.” Christgau’s review of Ready to Die doesn’t solely touch on urban survival, but also malevolence. For all Biggie’s lovable charm, there’s cruelty in a line like “I be beatin’ motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina.”

The duality of Biggie’s persona isn’t lost on the veteran music writer. “I’m a critic; I write about music, but I’m moralized, and I don’t have any shame about it,” he says. “I think about the ethics and the moral meaning of everything I listen to, that doesn’t mean I can’t overcome my objections and be taught things about my prejudice”.

To prove its continued importance, Ready to Die gained an honour this year. It was selected to the National Recording Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, and/or aesthetically significant". On 13th September, it is thirty years since the release of Ready to Die. A work that introduced Biggie Smalls to the world. We lost him less than three years after his debut album came out. Regardless, in his short life, he left an indelible mark. Ready to Die made a huge impact when it was released in 1994. It truly is a Hip-Hop masterpiece that has lost…

NONE of its significance.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Magdalena Bay

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

PHOTO CREDIT: Lissyelle Laricchia

Magdalena Bay

_________

ONE of the most talked-about…

PHOTO CREDIT: Lissyelle Laricchia

and talented acts in modern music, Magdalena Bay have just released one of this year’s most best albums. An instant classic. Imaginal Disk was released on 23rd August and has received unanimous praise. This incredible duo hail from Miami, Florida and are based in Los Angeles, California. Consisting of Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin, Magdalena Bay have released two studio albums, three E.P.s, and three mixtapes (called Mini Mixes) - comprised of one-to-two-minute songs with accompanying homemade green-screen music videos. Their music has evolved quite a bit since their earliest work. I wanted to draw attention to a duo who are getting a lot of attention but might not been known to everyone. Magdalena Bay are coming to London on 13th November. Prior to that, they are touring through North America. You can purchase tickets here. I am going to end with a couple of interviews for Imaginal Disk. It is a concept album that is really fascinating. Rare for an act to put out a concept album in this day. There are examples, though most studio albums released are a lot straighter and tend not to have a conceptual arc. I am going to start with a few recent interviews. So we can get more detail and background about Magdalena Bay and their stunning second studio album, Imaginal Disk. A duo whose new album twins Pop and Prog-Rock. Vogue’s interview gives us some insight into this incredible two-piece:

“In the current pop landscape, there are few acts as exciting—or as remarkably consistent—as Magdalena Bay. The duo, made up of Matt Lewin and Mica Tenenbaum, high school buddies turned partners in life and work, have spent the best part of a decade quietly churning out slices of synth-pop genius, married with distinctive visuals created by the pair themselves. That journey culminated in their debut album, 2021’s Mercurial World: One of the year’s most inventive pop records, it served as a rollercoaster ride through the band’s eclectic sonic universe, while also boasting some of the catchiest hooks in recent memory. (Seriously: Three years later, I still can’t get “Hysterical Us” out of my head.) Why, then, have they remained something of an in-the-know favorite for pop fanatics, when in a more just world their singles would be topping charts?

Their second album, Imaginal Disk—released tomorrow—may change all that. Across 15 all-killer, no-filler tracks, the duo flex their preternatural instincts for writing an irresistible pop melody, while also venturing into uncharted territory. The theatrical sweep of lead single “Death and Romance”—all groovy, ABBA-esque keyboards and thundering drums—flirts with psych-rock, while the delightfully bonkers “Tunnel Vision” builds and builds with Tenenbaum’s cherubic vocals over twinkling piano before it erupts into a epic prog-rock breakdown of guitars and live drums, synths squiggling around them like fireflies. And you’d be hard-pressed to find a catchier, cleverer slice of pop perfection than “Image” on any other record this year.

“It’s conceptual, but I wouldn’t necessarily call it a concept album,” says Lewin when he and Tenenbaum dial in from their Los Angeles studio. (In the background, their walls are covered with guitars and a Memphis Group-inspired sculpture the pair sourced from Facebook Marketplace.) While in the past, their visuals have consisted of a charmingly chaotic mish-mash of the post-Internet and the new-age—their old website was inspired by the Y2K kitsch of GeoCities pages—this time around, there’s a greater focus on the world they’ve constructed around the record, with an overarching narrative following an alien called True (played by Tenenbaum in the videos) who is implanted with, then rejects, an “imaginal disk” and begins her journey towards understanding what it is to be human.

It somehow never feels overwrought, or like the pair are being bogged down by the more outré aspects of what they’re doing. Indeed, when you boil it down, the appeal of Magdalena Bay is actually fairly simple: they’ve got fantastic melodies, immaculate production, and a welcome lack of self-seriousness. Because as any great pop songwriter knows, there’s a genius to simplicity—and Imaginal Disk is nothing if not a window into the minds of two weird and wonderful geniuses at work.

Here, Magdalena Bay talk about their unique take on the classic concept album, why they returned to their high-school roots when it came to the record’s influences, and their plans to bring the Imaginal Disk world to life while on the road.

Vogue: How are you feeling right now, a couple of weeks out from the release of the album?

Matt Lewin: I think we’re just eager to get the whole thing out, because you do the singles and it’s heartbreaking—well, not heartbreaking, but it’s a tough process, because you really just want people to listen to it all the way through. So you give people these little tastes of it, but you feel like you’re not getting the full thing. We’re ready for all of it to be out.

Mica Tenenbaum: Very ready.

Given it’s something of a concept album, what came first: the songs or the concept?

MT: At first, the music.

ML: The songs always come first.

MT: But I was entertaining some concepts while we wrote the songs. Because with Mercurial World, it was very much a case of songs first, concept later. So I did want to keep those broader ideas in mind when working on this one, without necessarily forcing anything.

ML: I would say it’s like a loose concept album. It’s not like a Tommy situation where the songs outline the story. I think there are themes throughout the album, but I feel that’s the same with Mercurial World. It’s conceptual but I wouldn’t necessarily call it a concept album. I don’t know if you agree, Mica?

MT: I think I agree. We just started writing the music in between touring gaps, the little time we would have at home in LA. Maybe 60% of it was written that way, and then we had a dedicated chunk of time to finish the rest of it, which was nice.

ML: I think once we had the music and we had the sequencing and we listened through the record, we were like, “Well, we could overlay this story on top of the music”—and that’s the story of the visuals. But it’s not necessarily inextricably tied to the music, it’s just a layer of meaning on top of the record.

Where did the Imaginal Disk title come from, and what does it mean to you both, exactly?

MT: I think we first came across the title because I was just really... Wait, how did we find the stuff about the insects in the first place?

ML: It was almost reverse engineered, because we came up with the album cover concept first, so we had this idea of someone inserting a disk into someone’s forehead. Then I think separately Mica was reading about the caterpillar-butterfly metamorphosis process, and there is a biological term called an imaginal disc, but with a C, which is a genetic code carrier that exists within the caterpillar that basically once the caterpillar completely melts into a goo in the cocoon these imaginal discs are the instructions with how to rebuild it into the butterfly. So then it became this double entendre with the CD disk concept that we had for the cover, and this symbol of metamorphosis that tied into a lot of the themes that Mica was already writing about and had in mind for the record.

MT: The cover came first? I’m not convinced by that.

ML: I swear!

Those themes of transition and evolution definitely recur throughout the record. Was there anything specific going on in your lives while making it that drew you to those questions?

MT: I had restarted therapy. It’s interesting, because when I was in high school I would go to the same therapist, so I returned to her a bajillion years later—I’m from Argentina, and the therapist I go to is from a Lacanian school of psychoanalysis, which is very hip now. I’m not super educated on those details, it just feels like what I imagine regular therapy is, but with a lot more focus and importance placed on dreams and the subconscious, which I find really inspiring as an artist. When we were talking, there were a lot of big questions coming up—and the record ended up being about the big questions too.

ML: I remember you were asking me all these questions like, “What do you think forms your identity? Are you the same person that you were when you were 10 years old? What really exists and what’s the through-line between your consciousness?” Because you feel like a completely different person, and it feels like almost a different life from a child version of yourself to the adult version of yourself, so what really constitutes you? What’s the ship where eventually every part of the ship was replaced?

MT: I was just reading about that, I forget what it’s called.

ML: It’s still the same ship if at some point every single piece of it was replaced over time. So it led to these questions of what constitutes the self—what is the core of that?

Was the character of True based on yourself in any way, Mica?

MT: She’s based on me, for sure. I feel like the lyrics within themselves have their own logic and story, and they are complete and intact in a way. And then we’ve layered this story over it, which is also informed by the lyrics. So it’s almost like another version of me. It’s the sci-fi interpretation of the personal story the lyrics tell.

It’s always pretty tough to pin you down in terms of genre, but one of the things that stood out to me was the really epic prog-rock moments on the album. Was there anything specific that led you down that path this time around?

ML: I think it was just a shift in what we were listening to at the time. We reverted to a lot of what we listened to when we were in high school when we first met, which is a lot of classic rock, ’70s prog-rock, Radiohead. I think when we were making Mercurial World we were really tapped into the contemporary pop scene and were really inspired by that, but the wave we were on while we were writing Imaginal Disk was very different and I’m sure that made its way into the music. It also ended up being that a lot of the songs required live drums rather than electronic programming, and I think that helped a lot to shape the sound of the record and push it in a different direction.

It definitely lends the album a very epic quality. Did you set out when writing the record to go bigger and bolder in that sense?

MT: I don’t know if it was conscious.

ML: Yeah. It’s hard to pin down why. I feel like some bands are like, “Okay, we’re going to make our disco record,” and before they even get in the studio they’re like, “I have a vision for how the record is going to sound.” But I feel like our writing style is that we just get into a flow state and then something comes out, and all the little micro-decisions you make while writing are informed by your tastes at the time, and then it ends up formulating into a song”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Lissyelle Laricchia

I want to move on to a great interview from Stereogum. Magdalena Bay discuss how Flash Gordon, Peter Gabriel, Björk’s Dancer in the Dark score and other influence go into their stunning high-concept conceptual album, Imaginal Disk. If you have not heard of the duo and any of their music, then I seriously suggest you have to. They are going to be a massive festival act very soon. With each new release, they are establishing themselves as one of the most spectacular and original acts around. I am a fairly recent convert to their music:

“Magdalena Bay are bringing back the heady concept album. Much of contemporary pop music is concerned with past trauma, astrological signs, and capital-V Vulnerability, and it feels like ridiculously conceptual pop music has fallen to the wayside in lieu of self-mythologization and not-so-subtle autobiography. On the other hand, the pop duo comprising Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin made a record about a character named True, whose body rejects a “disk upgrade” forced into their forehead by aliens, designed to bridge the speculative connections between humans and apes. Or something like that.

The album in question — Imaginal Disk, out this Friday — underlines a different type of vulnerability, one in which truly believing in your outlandish ideas pays off to the highest extent. The whole narrative is as unapologetically weird as the music is relentlessly catchy. If Grimes wasn’t up to whatever the hell she’s doing right now and went back to making excellent synth-pop in the vein of Art Angels, then it would probably sound something like Magdalena Bay.

Still, the ideas presented here are entirely Tenenbaum and Lewin’s own. Even aside from the sci-fi story bred into the record, the music itself is immaculate. It refines on the solid, shimmery foundation the two established on their debut, 2021’s Mercurial World, by somehow making their world even more mercurial. These songs take twists and turns that mirror the futuristic bent of the lyrics, and it’s immediately memorable despite its thrilling unpredictability. The Miami-bred, Los Angeles-based musicians double down on their ideas here, and it’s refreshing to hear glimmering pop music that is this unafraid of itself, carving its own singular path.

It makes you wonder where one even gets these kinds of ideas in the first place, so it only seemed natural to probe Lewin and Tenenbaum’s brains about the inspirations that led to Imaginal Disk. In a wide-ranging conversation, the duo shared how Suspiria (1977), Fiona Apple, ELO, the Unarius Academy of Science, and more influenced their excellent new album. Below, press play on new single “That’s My Floor” and enter the world of Magdalena Bay.

Paul McCartney

MICA TENENBAUM: I got into my first Beatles phase and then Paul McCartney phase in 2022, which would have been right as we were starting to write the album. So that’s probably some sort of influence, right?

MATTHEW LEWIN: Yeah, it was fun. I’ve been a lifelong Beatles guy, and it was fun to go chronologically through their discography with Mica.

TENENBAUM: I remember it was right when that documentary came out, which was so fun. I’ve been obsessed with Ram ever since.

Get Back is what made you dive in?

LEWIN: It came out right when we were starting to go through chronologically. So it was probably what brought it up for me. I was like, “You should probably get familiar with the history to appreciate it.”

Is Paul your favorite Beatle, then?

TENENBAUM: Yes, I think so.

LEWIN: I’ve always been a George guy my whole life, and then I think Paul took over as my favorite in the last maybe five years or so or during this deep dive we’ve done.

The documentary kind of portrays him as this mastermind behind the whole enterprise. And George is just like, “I want to be more involved.” And he’s like, “No, do what you’re told.”

LEWIN: For sure. It’s kind of annoying. But he’s good, which makes him annoying is that he’s undeniably good. [laughs] What can you do?

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Fiona Apple

TENENBAUM: We’ve been Fiona Apple fans for a long, long, long time. And in high school, when we were in a progressive rock band together, she was a very big songwriting influence for me. So it aligns with this situation where, as we were starting to write this album, we were listening more to what we were listening to in high school and revisiting things and regressing a little bit. [laughs] We totally stopped listening to any contemporary music and delved into Fiona Apple, a little bit of Radiohead, and some ’70s stuff. I feel like, in some way, she might have influenced the songwriting a little bit more than some previous Magdalena Bay stuff.

Björk’s Score For Dancer In The Dark

Is Björk also within that, as you put it, regressive high school era?

LEWIN: We watched Dancer In The Dark, which was new for me. I’d never seen it before even though I was into Björk for a while. That’s one of the things where we picked up on little elements, like the opener track to that film score is just this beautiful horn arrangement. It’s like, French horns and trombones and all brass. In that aspect, it really made us want to include more orchestral brass on this album, and there are a few songs on it that were pretty directly inspired by that and in some of the brass arrangements. I guess it’s probably not an overall songwriting influence. It’s more just like little things here and there.

Donkey Skin

TENENBAUM: We’re fairly inspired by that visually, just the sets and the color. As we’ve been working on our videos, films in that vein have been a big source of inspiration for us.

LEWIN: There’s something about the color palette or the set design. We were watching just generally the way film looked in that era of late ’60s and ’70s. It’s not something that we are following directly because our music videos don’t have that. They’re filmed on green screen, so we don’t have those practical status backdrops, but hopefully there’s something we’re taking from that because we do love it so much.

TENENBAUM: So whether it’s the color treatment or just some sort of mood, there’s some inspiration going through.

Peter Gabriel Music Videos

LEWIN: Obviously “Sledgehammer” is the big Peter Gabriel video that everyone knows and loves. But you have to watch the video for “Steam.”

TENENBAUM: That might be my favorite, I gotta say.

LEWIN: It’s like peak early CGI craziness; it looks so horrible but so cool at the same time. “Sledgehammer” is amazing because it’s all stop-motion, and you can see the frame-by-frame work. It has such a nice look to it. But “Steam” is just so cool in a completely opposite way where it’s so obviously digital. There’s something really funny and cool about that”.

Before getting onto some reviews, there is another interview that I am keen to highlight. The Line of Best Fit spoke with an amazing duo who are keen to defy your expectations. The Line of Best Fit sat down with Magdalena Bay and chatted about conceptualism and weirdness in Pop. For a duo who some might feel are eccentric or have an oddness, Travis Shosa notes how the conversation with Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin was one of the most normal of the past year:

“Imaginal Disk, the duo’s new album, is the fruit of that desire to marry accessibility with eclecticism. It is patently the most “out there” thing Tenenbaum and Lewin have recorded together, precisely because it is neither normal nor strange, but instead a heated wrestling match between pop convention and the more fanciful tangents and progressions that threaten to twist pop’s form up like a pretzel. There’s no “Killshot”: there’s really not even a “Secrets (Your Fire)” or “Hysterical Us.” Which is to say that the simple immediacy that some fans might be expecting from Mag Bay has been traded for songs readily shift and sprawl out from their origin points, placing a greater emphasis on soundscapes, new vocal techniques, and oddly layered rhythms. In a sense, it’s Tenenbaum and Lewin re-engaging with their musical roots and working out what place they have in their music going forward.

Mag Bay swung hard with the album’s first music video back in June: an eight-minute off-kilter sci-fi odyssey for “Death & Romance” and what would later be revealed as its unofficial outro, “Fear, Sex.” Tenenbaum plays a character named True, who spends most of the video gyrating in a spatially displaced aquamarine bedroom or in the foreground of some uncanny bucolic scenery. Lewin is a being of pure light: the two kiss, and Tenenbaum gets some of the light stuck in her mouth. All the while, they’re being monitored by aliens or gimps or alien gimps, and they attempt to kidnap this being of pure light before he escapes in his UFO, leaving True behind. Then she gets “updated” with what is presumed to be the titular Imaginal Disk.

That the video is bizarre isn’t surprising: Magdalena Bay has established a bent towards the absurd early on through their TikTok clips and full mini mix videos. Rather, it’s the style and grandiosity of the song itself which is striking. “Death & Romance” is effectively the best baggy revival tune since George Clanton’s “I Been Young,” though if that song is for swaying lighters at the club, “Death & Romance” is a big, bombastic epic that launches itself into the cosmos. Synths crop up, but the core instrumental hook is built around these punchy piano chords and the choppy drums that shuffle underneath. It’s catchy in the way that pop often is, but it’s also a bit disorienting. Mag Bay has a habit of nestling little references into their lyrics and melodies (see the pseudo-interpolation of Madonna’s “Material Girl” on their first album’s title track, “Mercurial World”). Here, the “wires in your head” line calls back to Pink Floyd’s “If.”

Lewin more directly compares “Image” to another of Gabriel’s videos. “You have to check it out if you haven’t seen the video for ‘Steam.’ ‘Sledgehammer’ is super claymation, very analog. ‘Steam’ is like, Peter Gabriel fucking around with early ‘90s CGI.”

Tenenbuam chimes in with, “‘Steam’ is like, so weird, yeah?”

And while Imaginal Disk’s mysterious and alien aesthetic and sense of atmosphere might be more closely aligned with Roger Waters-era Pink Floyd, it’s Gabriel’s writing with Genesis that seems to most closely inform the writing on the album’s proggier cuts, such as “Tunnel Vision.” Gabriel’s had a gift for imbuing his dense compositions with a sense of lightness and levity, and Mag Bay does the same here with its delicate but tightly layered and constantly evolving synth lines. By the time the track reaches its back half, however, it melts down into this swathe of heavy droning, frantic drum fills, and squelching electronics. I remember lines from “Image” that get me hunting down timestamps: the first chorus makes a reference to “22 more minutes.” A minute later, the next chorus kicks in “21 more minutes.” This feels like the initiation of a countdown. So I go to check what comes 22 minutes after that first chorus and “Image.” It’s that back-half breakdown in “Tunnel Vision” which leads into the album’s next act. It’s the reboot, the “brand new image.”

PHOTO CREDIT: Lissyelle Laricchia

Tenenbaum and Lewin don’t deny Imaginal Disk’s conceptual nature, but they do sort of undersell it. “The way it makes sense in my mind is these layers of meaning… the album within itself is just an exploration of self and consciousness, and is quite personal in some ways,” says Tenenbaum. “But of course, we love to sprinkle in the sci-fi within the lyrics and narrative and storytelling.”

Regarding the narrative of the album versus the story being told through the videos, Lewin adds: “It’s like another interpretation of it. It's not like we’re not doing like Tommy or something where the album is the story and very intrinsically one in the same. And you could listen to the album like you’re watching the movie. I think for us, the idea is the album exists on its own, as its own piece of art, and then the videos that we’re making are one interpretation of that.”

Tenenbaum concedes that she is inspired by vocalists that are more naturally aligned with her range. “But I think on this record, I was trying to expand that a bit, and I was listening a lot to Paul McCartney and David Bowie. And of course, I’m never gonna sound like them. But I’m trying to pick up on what I can, whether that’s the tiniest things, like enunciation, or a certain earnestness or more bravado on others. I try to think less about gender and style constraints, and just more about a character, depending on what a song is saying.”

Characters — multiple — are at the center Imaginal Disk, despite Tenenbaum boiling the record down to an exploration of self. “I think “Angel On a Satellite” feels very like me.” I hang on that a bit, mainly the uncertainty of it. “Maybe to me, at least. Someone else might listen to it, and I just think it sounds like me, but in my head — where I have a huge microscope on every sound that comes out of my mouth, it sounds a little different to me than what I’ve sung before. Like, more raw, more natural, a little lower in my register. Maybe more Fiona Apple-inspired. I don’t sound anything like her, but I’m trying to channel that more natural delivery.” I find myself stuck on the idea of channeling naturalism. “And then in “Cry for Me,” she continues, “where I’m singing in a different way at the end — more dramatic and shouting — that’s another type of character there. I mean, like, literal character, but also character to the voice.”

The best I can piece together is that Imaginal Disk involves multiple personified facets or aspects of Tenenbaum’s perceived self. We could go as far as to call Imaginal Disk “Jungian.” While there’s no specific admittance that True from the videos is one of the characters of the album itself — at least in a literal sense — the symbology of the name itself can’t really be ignored. If I were to theorycraft, Imaginal Disk seems to be a metaphor for working through a personality crisis. Are Mag Bay up-and-coming pop stars or are they still the Genesis heads from a decade and a half ago? Tenenbaum’s shifted her vocal style so much since then that she has to “channel” her natural register. And there’s a sort of duality between horror and wonder between realising you can be whoever you want to be, but you might lose sight of “True” along the way.

But again, Imaginal Disk seems to be about rectifying that. Some fans have playfully referred to the disk insertion in the “Death & Romance” video as a lobotomy. But Occam’s razor dictates I look at it as software: an appropriate Internet-age representation of how our minds develop over time. We patch out bugs and create new ones, add new features, etc. Some features are worth reimplementing”.

I am going to end with some reviews. In their five-star write-up, NME examined post-Internet existentialism on the duo’s second studio album. An album that “captures the visionaries at their most expansive: kaleidoscopic and overproduced in all the right ways”. I think that Imaginal Disk is going to voted as one of the best albums of this year very soon. It is a phenomenal work that everyone needs to hear:

“You are formless, yet you are still you,” write LA synth-pop duo Magdalena Bay on the eerie corridors of the darkly sci-fi website that accompanies their second album, ‘Imaginal Disk’. It’s the sort of metaphysical, techno-spiritual world-building fans expect: today’s alt-pop is no stranger to otherworldly e-girl pantomime and puzzling fictional websites, and Magdalena Bay’s expands upon their mysterious universe.

Over five years, Mica Tenenbaum and Matthew Lewin’s vaporwave fantasia has spanned post-internet mysticism and new-age philosophies. Their acclaimed debut, 2021’s ‘Mercurial World’ – a surreal silvery disco that landed somewhere between Grimes and Chvrches – was cacophonous and maximalist hyperspace pop, vast and unending. Satire and sincerity drove their Y2K retro-futurist vision, where the overstimulating internet became a portal to self-discovery. Their chops garnered a credit on the debut EP from TWICE‘s Jihyo, and even Lil Yachty got Magdalena-fever on 2023’s ‘Running Out of Time’.

Across the kitschy pilgrimage of its cerebral follow-up ‘Imaginal Disk’, Tenenbaum and Lewin further consolidate this lore, but cracks in the matrix – the real world, the negative effects of being terminally online, etc – threaten the euphoria of online escapism. It’s soundtracked by the same anachronistic, trippy synth-pop of its predecessor but grounded by the busk-y tambourine and analogue percussion of indie-pop.

There’s an artful slant thanks to Chairlift-indebted avant-pop, yet it’s never pretentious or – despite its sci-fi narrative – too concerned with the future. It’s still innovative, mind, but where ‘Mercurial World’ was informed by modern pop, ‘Imaginal Disk’ avoids the influence of new music almost entirely, according to press material.

Nostalgic instrumentation softens the synth-pop edge of ‘Imaginal Disk’, which has the added benefit of cementing its instant timelessness, imbuing the record with a campy, psychedelic, maudlin approach – one that feels all the more interesting as a counter to minimalist, bratty, party pop.

While gothic, theatrical St Vincent-ish vocals infatuate the wistful ‘Vampire in the Corner’, a Woodstock shrooms trip inspires the hypnotic delusion of the satirical ‘Love is Everywhere’ (which interpolates that sun-drenched Lil Yachty cut). Then, an 80s-inspired, I Saw the TV Glow-coded monster stalks the accompanying video for indie-disco track ‘Image’; celestial horns and echo chambers usher soft-pop armageddon on the unravelling groove-rock of standout ‘Tunnel Vision’, and Tenenbaum is a dancefloor deity on noughties grunge banger ‘That’s My Floor’.

By the time the technicolour show-stopper ‘The Ballad of Mica and Matt’ reprises the cutesy melody of its earthbound, pacifist opener ‘She Looked Like Me!’, it’s crystal that ‘Imaginal Disk’ captures the visionaries at their most expansive, yet corporeal. Stylishly gauche and expertly overproduced, kaleidoscopically experimental and expressionistic, ‘Imaginal Disk’ is a zeitgeisty time capsule of anxious post-internet existentialism and the online condition observed through a synthy flower-power lens. Here, Magdalena Bay are underrated pop messiahs at the top of their game”.

The final review is from The Line of Best Fit. Giving it 9/10, they salute a duo “discovering their sci-fi synthpop niche”. Even if you are not a fan of this type of music, I guarantee that you will love Imaginal Disk. The more you listen to it, the more it grows on you. It is very much a modern-day great that will rank alongside the best albums of the decade. It will be exciting when Magdalena Bay come to the U.K. as they have a large and growing fanbase here:

“A pairing of metaphors this nerdy – one deriving from the process of metamorphosis, the other pulled straight out of the science fiction canon – is par for the course for Matthew Lewin and Mica Tenenbaum, the precocious young duo that makes up Magdalena Bay. The two started out in a prog band in high school before realizing that nobody listens to prog anymore. At least, nobody that they cared about. So instead, as they went on to study at the most elite universities in the United States, they dropped their band entirely and swapped inspirations from art-rock to Top 40 radio in search of notoriety. Making synthpop would be simple, they thought – after all, they had spent their time writing insane twenty-minute jams moving in and out of 7/4 time, and what’s a short radio bop compared to that?

It could have been that easy. But Matt and Mica never quite discovered how to be normal, and eventually, it seemed like they didn’t want to. Even on their debut album and (many) other releases, the duo’s pop music paid homage to and subverted the pop zeitgeist in the same breath. They put Mariah Carey-esque love songs back-to-back with EDM slow-burners back-to-back with shoegaze-y pop rock, stitched together by song transitions smooth enough to make their releases appear more like megamixes (or, sometimes, literal “mini mix”es that they released as EPs). The elements of pop were there – verse-chorus-verse structures, hooks that would get stuck in your head for months, et cetera – but they were augmented with something more unique and artsy. Call it music theory geekery, or a lingering desire to make something as grand as their past work. But whatever that quality is, it has blossomed to full fruition on their sophomore album: prog-rock or otherwise, this is the most weird, complex music they’ve ever made. Imaginal Disk is a testament to good old-fashioned artistry – it’s the product of a band intensely honing what they want to sound like and ending up with a style so unique that it’s barely possible to describe. It’s dorky and strange and dramatic, like the duo themselves. And it sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard.

Imaginal Disk is held together by a loose concept: a character named True being coerced into getting a disk inserted into her head, leading to the creation of a new parallel being. This story is explored extensively throughout the surreal music videos released alongside many of the album’s singles. But that concept isn’t strictly important to the album: the band told Best Fit that the album is a broad “exploration of self and consciousness” and that the videos’ overarching narrative acts as a complementary interpretation of the album’s themes. By that framing, Imaginal Disk looks less like a sci-fi rock opera and more like just a collection of pop songs centered around a common theme. But the album still feels like something larger than the sum of its parts.

Perhaps that’s because the whole album, unlike anything Magdalena Bay has made before, has a unified aesthetic. That’s not to say that the album is homogeneous – anything but. Trying to describe this album in terms of its contemporaries, I only ended up with meaningless word salad: Age of Adz-era Sufjan Stevens if he made space rock revival, the Pet Shop Boys covering ABBA, every Kero Kero Bonito song mashed into one. Despite that, every track on Imaginal Disk somehow manages to sound like the same album.

Part of that is Mica’s distinctively airy vocals, part of it is the wash of psychedelia that coats every track in a hypnagogic aura. It’s also because everything on Imaginal Disk, no matter the sound, is turned up to 11. The lyricism is musical-theater levels of dramatic, and the instrumentals match that vibe – the raging distorted guitars swallowing the mix on “That’s My Floor,” the crunchiness on the final chorus of “Image,” the 80s string-synth-drum-machine combo on “Cry For Me”. Magdalena Bay’s past work had that same bombastic vibe, but when it’s surrounded by a unified theme and aesthetic, it feels so much more gratifying.

As great as Magdalena Bay’s previous releases were – and they were great – they didn’t exactly have a sound, as much as they were good at every sound. By contrast, in press releases, Lewin said that the process of creating Imaginal Disk was realizing “what a Magdalena Bay song sounds and feels like.” On one hand, that sounds like nonsense, because the album barely has a consistent genre. Even calling this “synthpop” feels like a disservice. But Imaginal Disk still feels like a band discovering their voice.

If I had to describe this album’s ethos, perhaps it wouldn’t be that far from the truth: it’s a prog-rock band making pop music and refusing to compromise on the best qualities of either. There are weird key changes and genre modulations and grandiose stories packed throughout this whole album, right next to some of the catchiest hooks of the year and danceable rhythms and nostalgic 90s-throwback material. It’s avant-garde, catchy, accessible, confusing, and fantastical, all in the best ways. It’s fitting that the album’s biological namesake is a metaphor for evolution, because Imaginal Disk sees Magdalena Bay channeling their overflowing creative energy into something novel – in a way, like an animal metamorphosing and inheriting its full body”.

Go and follow Magdalena Bay. They are an incredible duo have released one of this year’s best albums. Imaginal Disk is a brilliant introduction to them. I would suggest also going back to the start though. Not just listening to Imaginal Disk. Even though Magdalena Bay are rising and have an army of loving fans, there are some that are unaware of their brilliance. Make sure that you check out this duo…

STRAIGHT away.

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Follow Magdalena Bay

Official:

https://imaginaldisk.world/

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/MagdalenaBay/

Twitter:

https://x.com/MagdalenaBay

TikTok:

https://www.tiktok.com/@magdalenabaymusic

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/1oPRcJUkloHaRLYx0olBLJ

YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/c/MagdalenaBay

FEATURE: Trump Card: The Backlash Against the Former President from Artists Angry He Is Using Their Music Without Permission

FEATURE:

 

 

Trump Card

IN THIS PHOTO: Beyoncé (whose song, Freedom, was used in a Donald Trump campaign video and was removed after it was contested by her and the label)/PHOTO CREDIT: Rafael Pavarotti for British Vogue

The Backlash Against the Former President from Artists Angry He Is Using Their Music Without Permission

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IT is not a new thing…

 IN THIS PHOTO: Donald Trump is standing as the Republican candidate for U.S. President in this year’s Election

where politicians use artists’ songs without their permission. We see it in this country. Boris Johnson was criticised for using songs from artists that did not want to be aligned with him. Rishi Sunak too. Rather than approaching artists to see if their music can be used, instead it seems politicians are playing whatever they like at rallies, speeches and events. It does create this issue for artists. They do not want to be aligned with a particular politician and party! Also, it is exploiting their music and using it without permission. Rather than suing an individual or network that uses a song, this is a politician. It is more complex and harder to get a result. They can take to social media to blast them and call them out. Even so, politicians can dig in deeper. They are only interested in whipping up fervour and controversy. This is especially true when it comes to Donald Trump. The Republican candidate for the presidency of the U.S.A., we are at a time when he and his Democrat rival Kamala Harris are campaigning. She has won support from a range of artists. The campaign advert for Harris uses Beyoncé’s song, Freedom. From 2016’s Lemonade, this song has a deeper meaning and significance. Trying to make history as the first woman to be elected President – and also the first woman of colour -, it is great that she has support from a Megan Thee Stallion, Sheila E., John Legend, Maren Morris and so many others. There is this strong and varied group of artists with a lot of pull and sway who have thrown their support behind Kamala Harris. It is a very positive movement and moment where we hopefully will see history made! And Trump defeated. Hopefully a loss will mean him retreating more into the shadows.

One of the biggest issues with Donald Trump – among many! – is how he uses music without permission. Artists that really detest him. One case is Bruce Springsteen. A political football, as ana article from Rolling Stone recently noted – and I will quote from soon -, The Boss is angry that Donald Trump has been using his music. He is not the only artist. As Rolling Stone explore, he has a history of unauthorised use of music through the years. Playing whatever songs he wants. The artists he does play lashing back and demanding he stop using their music:

“Sure, it’s not uncommon for politicians to use popular songs at events and campaign rallies — but lots of artists have drawn the line when it comes to Donald Trump. Since the former president began campaigning ahead of the 2016 election, some musicians have not been happy to hear that the Trump team has played their music, often without authorization. From Canadian singer Céline Dion to the family of soul icon Isaac Hayes, they’ve done everything from issuing public statements to sending cease-and-desist letters to Trump through lawyers.

Here’s a list of the artists who have told Trump to back off and stop using their songs.

Beyoncé (2024)

While most complaints have focused on music played at Trump rallies, Beyoncé and her team issued a cease-and-desist letter after a Trump campaign spokesperson used her song “Freedom” in a short video shared online. The clip paired the Lemonade track with a 13-second clip of Trump getting off an airplane — a pretty pointed choice as “Freedom” has become an unofficial anthem of sorts for the Kamala Harris campaign. While Beyoncé did give the Harris campaign permission to use the song, a source close to the musician told Rolling Stone they “absolutely did not give permission” to Trump campaign, and that Bey’s label had threatened to issue a cease and desist. —J.B.

Céline Dion (2024)

Céline Dion was not happy when Donald Trump used her Titanic classic “My Heart Will Go On” at a recent campaign rally. “And really, THAT song?” she wrote on social media when she learned he’d been playing the hit. The Canadian star’s team issued a statement on Aug. 10 slamming the former president for “unauthorized usage” of the track from the Nineties film. “Celine Dion does not endorse this or any similar use,” the statement from Dion’s team said.

The family of James Horner, the song’s composer who died in 2015, also said in a statement that “the Horner family does not endorse or support the Trump/Vance campaign or its use of the song at its events. The campaign does not reflect the beliefs and values of James Horner or his family. It is important to the family that his music not be used by those seeking to profit inappropriately from his work after his death.” —T.M.

Isaac Hayes’ Family (2024)

The family of late soul singer Isaac Hayes wants to stop Trump from playing the hit “Hold On, I’m Comin’” at rallies and events, including at an NRA convention. Hayes’ son, Isaac Hayes III, shared that they planned to file a lawsuit after learning that the Trump team has used the song about 135 times without licensing the song or asking for permission. “I was pissed,” Hayes told The Hollywood Reporter. “There’s just been a mass shooting. So why are we using it at the NRA convention? I wanted to take legal action because Trump has made statements against women, and here is a man who has been convicted of sexual abuse. I’m a brother to seven sisters, and I don’t want anybody to think of ‘Hold On’ and think of Donald Trump.” —J.L.

Sinéad O’Connor’s Estate (2024)

Sinead O’Connor’s estate quickly shut Trump down when he started using the late singer’s song “Nothing Compares 2 U” at his rallies in Maryland and North Carolina. “It is no exaggeration to say that Sinéad would have been disgusted, hurt, and insulted to have her work misrepresented in this way by someone who she herself referred to as a ‘biblical devil,’” O’Connor’s estate representatives shared in a statement to Variety. “As the guardians of her legacy, we demand that Donald Trump and his associates desist from using her music immediately.” —J.L.

Johnny Marr (2024)

While the Smiths might seem wildly out of place at a Trump rally, the camp certainly tried it. In early 2024, multiple political reporters took to Twitter to share how the hopelessly desperate “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want” was making its rounds with MAGA folks. Founding guitarist and the song’s writer, Johnny Marr, immediately responded when he quote-tweeted a video saying, “Ahh … right … OK. I never in a million years would’ve thought this could come to pass. Consider this shit shut right down right now.” —M.G.”.

As I mentioned Bruce Springsteen is an artist that has been quoted by both Donald Trump and Tim Walz (the Democrat nominee for Vice President). Whereas Walz is someone who is a genuine fan of Springsteen (and, in turn, The Boss would be pleased to have his support), Donald Trump seems to pick up on a song title that fits a general message of theme and uses it. No care for the artist or what they are feeling. This Rolling Stone article charts the history of U.S. politicians employing The Boss’s music. Why Donald Trump’s involvement is particularly jarring for someone who genuinely hates him:

“Just over 40 years ago, Ronald Reagan became the first American president to name-drop Bruce Springsteen. “America’s future rests in a thousand dreams inside your hearts,”  he told a crowd at a New Jersey campaign stop in September of 1984. “It rests in the message of hope in the songs of a man so many young Americans admire — New Jersey’s own, Bruce Springsteen.”

Springsteen was, of course, at a pop-cultural peak in that moment, fresh from the release of the world-conquering blockbuster Born in the U.S.A., with a flag on the cover and an easy-to-misconstrue title track. In the decades since, he’s made his left-leaning political views quite clear, campaigning for Democratic candidates and even partnering with Barack Obama for a podcast series and book. And even in the far-flung political era of 2024, where Beyoncé’s “Freedom” scores Kamala Harris‘ campaign, Springsteen’s name and music keep popping up — Donald Trump has him on his mind, Tim Walz is a vocal fan, and “Born in the U.S.A.” played at the Democratic National Convention.

Steven Hyden‘s excellent new book, There Was Nothing You Could Do: Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the U.S.A. and the End of the Heartland, traces the pop-cultural and political impact of that album. He recently sat down with Rolling Stone to discuss Springsteen’s continuing political relevance and more.  (To hear more from Hyden on his book, check out the Rolling Stone Music Now podcast — his segment begins around the 42-minute mark of the Katy Perry episode above. Go here for the podcast provider of your choice, listen on Apple Podcasts or Spotify, or just press play above.)

The first big Springsteen moment of this campaign was when Donald Trump started musing onstage, pretty much out of nowhere, about the fact that Bruce doesn’t like him. What did you make of that, especially in the context of your book?

Trump’s relationship with classic rock is really interesting. He’s obviously a big fan of Sixties and Seventies rock music, as a lot of people his age are, and it’s an awkward situation because it’s not reciprocated from any of these people — Springsteen among them. These are his heroes, in some respects, at least musically speaking, and yet they view him unanimously as being bad for the country.

There’s so many musicians who don’t like Trump, but he keeps zeroing in on Springsteen. The fact that Bruce doesn’t like him — called him a moron, specifically, when I talked to him for Rolling Stone in 2016 — really bothers him. And I think that’s connected to the way Bruce carries some sort of American weight that other rock stars don’t.

Yeah, I think there is something with Bruce where that felt true 40 years ago, and it’s probably even more true now. He’s not seen totally as a political figure, but he feels more like a political figure than any other rock star. But he also has the populist thing going with him. There’s probably a part of Trump that feels like these are the people that I’m speaking to — Bruce should respond to me as well because he’s the middle-American-type guy, speaking up for average Americans. Now, of course, Trump isn’t actually doing that, but I think that there is some delusional thing in his mind, thinking that he and Springsteen in some ways are on the same side. So there probably is a little extra sting there, to not get that acceptance from Bruce”.

It is quite damaging for artists when a politician like Donald Trump uses their music. Fans of those artists might think they have given permission and they support him. That can be devastating. Although most fans know the truth, there are some who will jump to conclusions. At a particularly charged time in U.S. history, a lot rests on the result of the Election! If a recent poll suggested Kamala Harris is edging Donald Trump, artists and music an have a lot of influence. On the positive side, many artists have come out in support of Harris and that reaches millions of voters. There is this negative. Music being played by Donald Trump. How damaging that can be and what impact that can have on the vote. Also, it calls into questions a decades-running issue around political figures using music without permission. There does need to be a framework where we should have clearance and a process. Not simply a politician can play any song they like without authorisation. It is not fair on artists and it does create this uncomfortable conflict. Donald Trump is especially reckless and prolific. Using it as his own trump card. A song that gives him an advantage. Pulling this trick out of the bag. People thinking the artist whose song is playing has endorsed him. It creates this atmosphere and mood that fires up his supporters. Even the backlash and publicity from him stealing songs works in his advantage. In the sense that more supporters will come his way. It needs to stop. Although M.I.A. recently showed support for Donald Trump, not many credible or reputable artists ever will. He has to use these dirty tricks to get their attention. Playing their music against their wishes. Politicians who know artists will turn them down. They are then left with precious few options. Whilst the use of music at events and rallies does not have a massive impact on voting habits, we do all hope that Donald Trump’s use of music against artists’ wills does not create…

ANY lasting damage.

FEATURE: Anonymous Homogenous: Are Our Music Tastes Becoming Too Samey and Digitally-Led?

FEATURE:

 

 

Anonymous Homogenous

 PHOTO CREDIT: Dziubi Steenbergen/Pexels

Are Our Music Tastes Becoming Too Samey and Digitally-Led?

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I read an interesting feature…

 PHOTO CREDIT: John Tekeridis/Pexels

from The Guardian recently. It asks a question that has been posed through the years. That relates to whether modern music tastes are being directed by algorithms and streaming services. Whether we are all listening to the same music. It is clear that there is a big hegemony when it comes to Pop. There are a few artists that are dominating a lot of tastes and direction. Although Sabrina Carpenter, Charli XCX and a few others are grabbing a lot of the focus, it is Taylor Swift who dominates. I do wonder if we have ever seen a case of an artist getting so much attention and press coverage. It is great Swift is succeeding and doing something great, though it seems to be a symptom of modern tastes and how we are guided to music. If you look at streaming sites and are in the mood for discovery or something unusual, how accommodating are sites? I tend to find that I am caught in this loop of listening to the same stuff. Daily Mix playlists collate artists I have been listening to. It is divided in terms of genres and styles. Any suggestions that come up are really close to what I listen to. It is easy to get caught in this trap of relying on these suggestions and playlists. Stuck listening to the same music. Looking on the front pages and any suggestions and the same artists crop up. I guess you can turn off these algorithms and not have playlists suggested and built. It makes your music discovery more fluid and diverse. That is not to say that all we are listening to now is Pop or music from this generation. It does seem to be the case that even some of the same legacy artists are proving popular year-in-year-out. What is driving that? It is interesting to ponder:

“That may be true, but what if we looked at it from a different perspective? Think of those aerial shots of the festival site, which attempt to capture the sheer scale of 200,000 people descending on 600 hectares of land for the weekend. Then reinterpret them as a kind of heatmap of taste. There are more than 100 stages at Glastonbury, but certain areas heaved with bodies while others were notably sparse. More palpably than in previous years, there was a sense that everyone wanted to see the same thing. What if, guided by some invisible hand, we were all converging on the same likes and dislikes? What if taste was no longer a question of making finer and finer distinctions, but of being nudged towards uniformity?

Another example of vast numbers of people coalescing around a single musical point of reference comes in the form of Taylor Swift. Her global Eras tour, now completing its European leg in London, is already the highest-grossing of all time: she is expected to make $2bn from it, all told. Her concerts regularly break attendance records and have even been known to cause measurable seismic activity. For audiences in Seattle and in Edinburgh, the earth literally moved. It’s not like everyone on the planet listens to Taylor Swift, but those massive profits and the ground-shaking impact of her gigs suggest that there are an awful lot of us who do.

Her most recent album, The Tortured Poets Department, was streamed 1bn times on Spotify in its first week, adding yet another record to the teetering pile. Swift’s megastar status means she’s one of the few artists not reliant on playlists to direct passive listeners to her work, but these often machine-made selections still have a reinforcing effect. There’s no denying that the algorithms streaming and social media are built on have dramatically altered how we listen. Spotify launched 16 years ago and now claims to have 615 million users worldwide: in less than two decades, it has fundamentally changed the way we consume music.

Despite some heel-dragging, the musical establishment has been forced to adapt to its rhythms. In 2014, the Official Charts Company finally started taking account of streams in compiling its rundown of the biggest hits. But this has painted a strange portrait of contemporary taste. As well as five separate Taylor Swift entries, the top 20 bestselling albums of 2023 included the greatest hits of Fleetwood Mac, Eminem, Abba and Oasis. This is the taste of our parents or grandparents, reflected back at us. Streaming was supposed to do away with traditional gatekeepers, such as music journalists and radio DJs, and many speculated that genre would collapse completely. And it’s true that pop, rap and country have become surprisingly fluid and interchangeable. Yet, oddly enough, we’re seeing an increasingly samey musical landscape, in which taste has become trapped in a feedback loop of the algorithm’s making. “Spotify tells you what to listen to,” says Milo, the sharply ambitious student in Andrew O’Hagan’s latest novel, Caledonian Road. His advice? “Say no to algorithmically generated playlists”.

It is true that algorithms are creating an issue. Maybe we are relying less on radio and more traditional sources when it comes to music discovery. That is not to say that music sounds the same. There is variation and difference. It seems to be the case that, the more we rely on the digital, the more homogenised our music tastes become. The fact that, when it comes to the albums most bought, there is that singularity of Pop being represented. One artist getting so much of the market share. Questions could be asked in regards to the media circus and focus that has been put on Taylor Swift. Is the Pop market too singular and same-sounding to engage a wider audience? Are we living at a time when Pop and other genres are too simple and repetitive? In another article published  recently, Tom Breihan studied seventy years of past Pop. Even if songs now are shorter and less complex, that is not to say they lack depth. The modern Pop scene is fascinating:

“In a study published in July, researchers from London’s Queen Mary University algorithmically studied the melodies of decades’ worth of US Billboard chart hits, and came to the conclusion that the melodies driving those songs have grown less complex over the years. The researchers stress that this isn’t a qualitative judgment, and they’ve taken pains in the discussion to compensate for the popularity of rap music, a genre where melody can often be incidental. Still, the existence of this kind of study can serve to bolster certain bar-room conversations. If you’re convinced, for instance, that the music of your own youth is superior to whatever’s being made these days, then you can now cite a scientific paper to claim that today’s hits are just dumbed-down slop.

The earliest days of the Hot 100 coincided with the rise of rock’n’roll, when the new breed of stars competed with and sometimes sought to emulate an older generation of big-band crooners, and those guys prized a certain sophistication in vocal phrasing. The doo-wop groups of the late 50s and early 60s also built their melodic structures mostly out of vocals, so maybe that skews the graphs, too. Still, I don’t think a song like Elvis Presley’s Are You Lonesome Tonight? sounds any more melodically rich than, say, Taylor Swift’s Anti-Hero. Maybe I’m just not hearing the Midi files or looking at the notation.

But nobody looks at Midi files or notation when they’re processing pop music. It’s an in-the-moment art form, one much more dependent on technological rupture and societal context than pure melody. In recent years, for instance, the pop charts have become the dominion of online fan armies who attempt to manipulate chart figures to juice their favourites’ stats. In the US, pop consistently sits at the centre of conversations about sexuality, class and especially race – and those won’t show up on a chart of melodic notation.

This year, one of the big stories on the Billboard Hot 100 has been the preponderance of diss tracks, with Kendrick Lamar and Megan Thee Stallion reaching No 1 by taking explicit shots at their rivals. Another has been the ongoing conversation between country music and hip-hop, as Beyoncé, Shaboozey, and the duo of Post Malone and Morgan Wallen have landed huge hits that fall somewhere in the Venn diagram of two genres that play vastly different roles in US life. Maybe those songs have simple melodies, but that doesn’t mean the songs play simple roles. Pop music is more than melody. Maybe you can’t see it if you’re looking at sheet music, but the pop landscape is as fraught and fascinating as it’s ever been”.

Although many of us go deeper than streaming-led suggestions and away from the modern charts – which still seem to be skewed towards certain artists and do not give a full picture of modern music’s diversity and eclectic nature -, there is this danger many of us face. Listening to the same music. Either getting caught sticking with music we are familiar and comfortable with, or being directed by modern charts, vinyl sales, megastars in the media. In an effort to obtain the same sort of acclaim and traction as modern superstars, are artists consciously releasing music that sounds similar to an artist like Taylor Swift so that they can get included In Spotify playlists?! That homogenisation occurs. I am not sure we are quite there yet, though that first article I quoted raises some interesting points. It is worrying that vinyl sales seem to have one or two modern artists dominating and then a selection of familiar older artists. Maybe people exploring more of the past and classic artists because they feel the modern scene lacks real appeal. A rebellion against the fact modern algorithms do direct us to the same artists. I don’t know. I have noticed I listen to the same music and tend not to break out of bad habits. Listening to certain stations and genres like Pop, it can be very repetitive. So many modern artists consciously sounding the same because that is what is deemed commercial or popular. Other genres and types of music not been played as much. Perhaps streaming does dictate what we hear and creates this false impression of modern music. A very samey playlist. Once was the time when our peers and friends helped shape our music tastes. Our parents too. Now, technology has a much bigger role.

PHOTO CREDIT: Bryan Catota/Pexels

There are music apps that can actually help broaden our music tastes and rewire habits. In terms of getting caught in this loop of listening to the same thing. This feature from Steve Kupferman of The Globe and Mail, provided a different perspective on technology and it can be beneficial when it comes to music discovery. How some apps can open your mind up to discover artists that might not have otherwise have been on your radar:

“I found that I was still developing fixations on particular artists, but now they were brief. At one point I spent a few weeks listening to a Chicago-based group called Finom, whose most recent work I can only describe as sounding as though it is written and performed by sexy androids with music-theory PhDs. The app guided me to an artist called Jim Sullivan, a spaced-out wannabe cowboy singer who cut two very good albums before literally disappearing off the face of the Earth in 1975. (He was last seen in a remote part of New Mexico.)

How we – by which I mean the app and I – got here from Elliott Smith is a mystery to me. The app’s makers say its algorithm weighs a number of different factors, including how frequently users group particular songs together on playlists they create. The app also automatically analyzes songs for qualities such as “danceability,” “energy” and “instrumentalness.”

But to me the process did not feel as though it was being directed by software. My mind felt like it was spreading feelers at random and sending up shoots.

And this is precisely what is so pernicious, and so wonderful, about the algorithm. I have a whole new musical sensibility now that feels as though it came from within, but that actually was imposed, at least partly, from outside. The precise ratio of algorithmic conditioning versus personal free will at play here is at best a trade secret, and at worst completely unknowable – a matter of philosophical debate.

Rewiring a person’s musical preferences was once seen as a social act, or even an act of love. It was something that used to be done by radio DJs, or cool older siblings, or mixtapes compiled by dorky guys trying to express mind-enveloping romantic obsession to their crushes without freaking them out.

Nobody gave any thought to what it might mean for us, as a society, to automate this process. For all we can tell at this point it could be the end of music as we know it. We could be entering a world where music is no longer a marker of identity, but rather a product of it – a world where songs are no longer recommended algorithmically, but are actually written algorithmically, to tickle the pleasure centres of each individual listener.

But that’s not where we are today. For now, even though I feel as though my mind may have been colonized by Big Tech, I also feel … great? Discovering new music after my long period of incuriosity had effects I couldn’t anticipate and can’t quantify.

I think my emotional aperture has expanded, ever so slightly. Listening to music on public transit or while walking through the city, which I had not done for years, is a cheap and effortless source of joy. For the first time in my marriage I can play music for my wife that isn’t “too depressing.” I went to a concert, after a decade of mostly avoiding them, and saw a crowd of a few hundred people who all have at least one thing in common with me.

And my relationship with music is no longer a source of weird, neurotic shame. In a small but important way, I feel like I’ve been transformed for the better. Everything else had changed; this was the last thing that hadn’t.

There are so many ways big online platforms have damaged the world. Even the streaming app is notorious for leveraging its market dominance to underpay musicians.

But as bleak as the future of automation sometimes looks, dealing with the music app has made me wonder if there’s still hope that these new systems will find ways to integrate with human minds that aren’t exploitative – that promote grace and humanity, rather than the opposite. I now think it’s possible, though I wouldn’t say it’s likely”.

Whilst I do think modern Pop is not overly-simple and samey, I do think that a lot of artists are falling into something narrow. A lot of artists possibly reacting to what is recommended on streaming services and making music geared to that. There is this danger with algorithms all providing the same suggestions. If we rely on technology alone, then there is this worry then our music tastes will start to merge and be the same. Some apps are a bit different, yet many people (me included) are not broadening our listening tastes as much as we should. I think that radio plays an important role. Getting suggestions and new music from there. We can also discover older artists that we may not have considered. Discovering music websites that give suggestions about new acts. Looking to traditional media and outlets rather than being directed by and dictated to by streaming and digital. We can’t and shouldn’t discard streaming sites and apps. However, there is something to be said about their influence when it comes to our music tastes. Maybe not set up to explore the full depth and breadth of modern music. A colourful and expanding landscape is not fully being covered. That is worrying. Modern Pop being focused very much on a select few artists. It can easily create this homogenisation. That is something that we need to get out of. Whilst those who love music will be curious and go out of their way to broaden their tastes, technology should react to that. Lead us to interesting discoveries. Ensuring that they do not have the same artists in their algorithms. It is not only music where algorithms do have a huge role. T.V. and film. We do need to explore this in more depth as the way music is recommended to us on streaming sites is…

PHOTO CREDIT: cottonbro studio/Pexels

A troubling trend.

FEATURE: The Digital Mixtape: Underrated or Under-Loved Songs from the 1990s

FEATURE:

 

 

The Digital Mixtape

PHOTO CREDIT: Nadin Sh/Pexels

Underrated or Under-Loved Songs from the 1990s

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THERE is a lot of talk around…

 PHOTO CREDIT: Dmitry Demidov/Pexels

the 1990s at the moment, as some legendary albums from the decade are celebrating anniversaries. A few have reached their thirtieth anniversary. Portishead’s Dummy, Jeff Buckley’s Grace and Oasis’ Definitely Maybe. There are more 1990s anniversaries coming soon. Big occasions for some classic albums. We talk about the best songs from the decades. Lists dedicated to the soundtrack of the 1990s. We do not as often spare a thought for overlooked songs from the decade. Some that are perhaps maligned by critics or under-loved. It can be a subjective thing, though there are songs that get a bad reputation or are seen as grating or novelty by the press. They may have massive streaming or viewing figures, yet they are not as embraced as they should be. Songs that simply have never gained the same respect as the huge and obvious songs from the 1990s. Again, these may be quite popular in their own way, though we never really see them often appear in the best songs of the 1990s lists. Some might disagree. Others might have their own selections. I wanted to represent these tracks here. Below is a playlist containing some gems from the 1990s either underrated or that have not been wholly embraced by the critics – but they should have been! Even if you were not around in the 1990s, these awesome cuts from the decade should…

PHOTO CREDIT: Andrea Piacquadio/Pexels

TICKLE your fancy.

FEATURE: Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Thirty-Nine: The Ninth Wave: The Unseen and the Unknown

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Thirty-Nine

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush during The Ninth Wave photo session/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

The Ninth Wave: The Unseen and the Unknown

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I am looking ahead…

to 16th September and the thirty-ninth anniversary of Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love. It is worth getting to some background about the album before coming to its incredible suite, The Ninth Wave. There was this period of recovery and rest following The Dreaming. That album came out in 1982. Clearly, Bush was exhausted and needed to stop. Her father, a doctor, diagnosed nervous exhaustion and prescribed bedrest. If she had ploughed on and worked to the same extent she did through The Dreaming, it could have meant an early end to her career. It was a crucial moment where she had to heed advice. She did. Spending time with family and friend, 1983 especially was a fruitful period of rare relaxation. She bought a VW Golf and drover herself around. She went to films and spent time at home. Together with her boyfriend Del Palmer (who was in her band and engineer), Bush hung out and enjoyed downtime. She listened to music (mainly Classical) and went for walks. Gardening came into her life and provided this calm and focus. Buying fresh fruit and vegetables, she prepared one good and healthy meal a day. Instead of the takeaways and unhealthy life she had before – I can picture late night recording, smoking a lot, lousy T.V. shows, very little sleep, together with a lot of stressful and tense moments -, this was a new chapter. I am engrossed in Graeme Thomson’s Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush and what he writes on this period. How there was a lot of press speculation around Bush ‘disappearing’. That she had a drug habit or was vastly overweight. I have written on this before, though it is worth reiterating. How she was viewed and pictured by the press, compared to the actual reality. This very busy and hardworking human was not an addict or majorly depressed. Instead, she was being a normal human and not out and about at parties and being in the public eye!

Kate Bush and Del Palmer moved into the Kent countryside in a seventeenth-century farmhouse that was close to the family home of East Wickham Farm. Bush, taking dance back up and in a healthier space, was living in this very romantic and idyllic house. There was a sense of darkness and doom from 1981 and 1982. Days and days of recording The Dreaming. A period which took a toll. I mention all this because, to over-analyse or over-simply, that trajectory from 1981 to 1983 sort of is mirrored through The Ninth Wave. That initial stress and fear that ends with relief and sanctuary. Whereas some of the tenser, anxious and frightening moments of The Dreaming reflected a very present and personal significance, I do think there was more in the way of fiction and detachment with the fears of Hounds of Love. One could say that the title track is Bush exposing her fear, cowardice and worries about love and herself. I  always think the song has positivity and strength. The same goes with nearly everything on the first side of the album. Much more in the way of the positive and optimistic mindset she would have found from 1983 onwards. How much of The Ninth Wave is genuine fear coming to the surface? I think that that idea of a woman being lost at sea and at the mercy of what is underneath was a genuine one. Kate Bush has said she imagined nothing more frightening. Some could say that this, psychologically, was Bush feeling vulnerable about her career and security. Metaphors for the industry and the capricious nature of her career. How she was maybe adrift and could be lost at any moment. It is a whole different thread to examine. I think there is much more in the way of fiction and fantasy than any hangovers from The Dreaming.

That said, one could say that there was lingering depression or anxiety from that time. If there was, it was channelled in a very ambitious and positive way. Perhaps her greatest achievement is that song-cycle from the second side of Hounds of Love. It is a masterpiece. If you want to analyse things, you could see this as a nod to Kate Bush’s life for the previous couple or few years. The fatigue and being lost. That need to stay awake and alive. Family and friends waiting for this woman who might never return to them. The sense of a spirit watching over them and, finally, rescue and a return to land – though the woman who returns is a shadow of her former self. Each song could very much be attached to a particular career moment or time in her recent life. I think there is more warmth and different sound on The Ninth Wave. If percussion and a heavy and grittier sound was used in The Dreaming and the Fairlight CMI was very much used to project a lot of dirt, smoke, guttural and grime at times, I feel there are different emotions and textures on The Ninth Wave. Beautiful and tender moments then sweeping and grand symphonies almost. Heady and intoxicating sound collages and spirited, rousing songs. Think about the joy and energy of Jig of Life. The simplicity and heartbreak through And Dream of Sheep. The atmospheric and affecting The Morning Fog. The choral and huge Hello Earth. I think this work was from the mind of someone happy and content enough to think in a more abstract way. Perhaps putting less of her own emotions and strains through machinery. Of course, there as some of that, though her mind and body was healthier. Awake and alive to opening up her palette and imagination, there is this mystery and sense of the unknown about The Ninth Wave.

There is so much to uncover and explore when it comes to The Ninth Wave. Think about a real lack of podcasts or documentaries about it. There has been a literary adaptation of the suite, though very little in the way of articles and new examinations. Maybe there will be more of it next year for Hounds of Love’s fortieth anniversary. Apart from the relatively overlooked Mother Stands for Comfort on the first side of Hounds of Love, every other track has got quite a bit of write-up and focus. Maybe The Big Sky should have more. I think that The Ninth Wave has this mystique. We do not really know much about it beyond the interviews Kate Bush has given where she has discussed it. Nearly thirty-nine years after the world first heard The Ninth Wave, there are questions and gaps. One of the most obvious things to note is how none of the songs on that second side were released as singles. The only video representation of any of the songs is when Kate Bush filmed And Dream of Sheep for 2014’s Before the Dawn. The only time where she performed The Ninth Wave in its entirety. Across twenty-two dates, it was an undertaking pulling it off every night! We have no filmed documentation of those performances. There is the live album audio. So, really, the only people who sort of know what Kate Bush had in her imagination are those who were in Hammersmith ten years ago. I have pitched how there should be a filmed version of The Ninth Wave. Something Kate Bush was keen to do once Hounds of Love was released. It just never came together. As someone desperate to see The Ninth Wave in all its glory, you wonder if it will ever come to pass. I guess that everyone who hears the suite has their own interpretation and vision.

Whether you think the woman does get rescued – Bush said she did in interviews around the album and years after, but those who were at Before the Dawn think she never made it out alive - or not, one cannot deny how eclectic and extraordinary The Ninth Wave is. Many talk about the singles from Hounds of Love. I don’t think The Ninth Wave gets enough attention. With few videos or much audio dedicated to this collection of songs, there is that need and desire for more. The Ninth Wave was part inspired by Idylls of the King: The Coming of Arthur by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Also, by Aivazovsky's iconic 1850 painting, The Ninth Wave. This great article goes more into that. Once more, Bush influenced by literature and art. With that mix of personal and fictional in the main character and the story arc, The Ninth Wave is truly fascinating and mysterious! Everyone will have their own interpretations and theories of what happens and how things end. The Kate Bush Encyclopedia have transcribed part of a 1992 interview where Bush talks about this incredible suite:

“The Ninth Wave was a film, that’s how I thought of it. It’s the idea of this person being in the water, how they’ve got there, we don’t know. But the idea is that they’ve been on a ship and they’ve been washed over the side so they’re alone in this water. And I find that horrific imagery, the thought of being completely alone in all this water. And they’ve got a life jacket with a little light so that if anyone should be traveling at night they’ll see the light and know they’re there. And they’re absolutely terrified, and they’re completely alone at the mercy of their imagination, which again I personally find such a terrifying thing, the power of ones own imagination being let loose on something like that. And the idea that they’ve got it in their head that they mustn’t fall asleep, because if you fall asleep when you’re in the water, I’ve heard that you roll over and so you drown, so they’re trying to keep themselves awake.

Richard Skinner, ‘Classic Albums interview: Hounds Of Love’. BBC Radio 1, 26 January 1992”.

There have been fan theories and messages about The Ninth Wave. Not a lot in the way of column inches or minutes of audio. I hope The Ninth Wave is given more love and light by next year. I am going to end with this article from 2021. An examination and nod to wonderful and rich musical storytelling. Even if there is no beginning and end – where we see how the woman got into the ocean and we never know what happened when she got back to land -, it is that period where we are with her at sea that is so evocative and tense. Never really knowing which direction things would go and if she would be safe. Never knowing for sure how things worked out:

“So in which direction did Kate Bush take her ocean story? Well, many. The tracks do play out like the film which was in Kate’s imagination, beginning with the wonderfully lonely “And Dream of Sheep,” in which the narrator floats alone in their life jacket, drifting in and out of consciousness. As the character falls into the “warmth” of a hallucinatory state, the scene is set for Kate to experiment with their mental state and the dreams they experience.

Beginning with “Under Ice,” the music becomes much darker and more intense. The lyrics of the track give a warped impression of the cold and hypothermia that the narrator is likely experiencing. We transition to the sudden direction to “wake up,” the theme of the track “Waking the Witch” (my personal favourite,) where things start to get more chaotic, the calm voices of the introduction being replaced by broken, fragmented jitters of speech — “Help me, listen to me, listen to me, tell them baby!”

IN THIS IMAGE: Ivan Aivazovsky The Ninth Wave

With the most intense section of the suite over, Kate continues her experimentation into mental states, where in “Watching You Without Me” she describes an out of body experience — as a ghost in her own home, watching her loved ones worry. A third hallucination appears with “Jig of Life,” and we are suddenly enveloped in the sounds of Irish folk music — violin, fiddle, pipes, and drums. Confronted by her future self, the narrator is persuaded to fight for their life — the relentless, powerful instrumental driving the story forward.

The final tracks of the suite lead to and take us through the serenity and relief of the narrator’s ambiguous rescue. “Hello Earth” is Kate floating away further and further from the life she knows. We hear samples of NASA communications, conveying the feeling of being so far from human contact.

The iconic “The Morning Fog” is the final track of the album, in which Kate is rescued. The joyful tone highlights the journey we have been through, loss, mental states, hope, and finally the serene, joyous feeling of being safe. Kate stated in interviews that the suite was always intended to end in rescue, but it could be argued that “The Morning Fog” is instead the narrator succumbing to the water, experiencing the final moments of life”.

On 16th September, it is the thirty-ninth anniversary of Hounds of Love. I know that there will be talk of the album and iconic singles like Hound of Love and Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God). I still feel that The Ninth Wave has been left aside. Google results for it and there is not a lot in the way of videos, articles or anything recent. You do feel there is so much to navigate and explore. Go deep with the songwriting, the sounds, the psychological and the imagery. The fact a relatively small number of people have and will ever see the only visual representation we have of The Ninth Wave. The way Bush talked about the suite in 1985 or 1992. How she altered that when mounting it for Before the Dawn. So much to discuss. Maybe we will next year. Such an accomplished cycle of songs. Almost like a Classical symphony! Something with moving parts and this narrative that takes us through a dark and tense night. The different moments, moods and emotions that switch between songs. Rooting for this woman on her own at sea. The salvation and possible safety of the final song. Kate Bush’s stunning production vision and talent present in every note and line. It is her masterpiece! I think it subsumes and overpowers the rest of the album. Rather than Hounds of Love being defined by its singles, its true heart and core is The Ninth Wave. People should cover the songs. We need to remix the tracks. Separate them and rank them. Dissect each one and do more. Or maybe a relative sense of mystery is what makes it so intriguing and powerful. This piece of work swims in the imagination, gets inside the heart and…

OVERWHELMS the senses.

FEATURE: Groovelines: The Sugarhill Gang – Rapper’s Delight

FEATURE:

 

 

Groovelines

IN THIS PHOTO: From left: Henry ‘Big Bank’ Jackson, Guy ‘Master Gee’ O’Brian, and Michael ‘Wonder Mike’ Wright, New York, 1980/PHOTO CREDIT: Anthony Barboza/Getty Images

The Sugarhill Gang – Rapper’s Delight

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ONE of the most important…

songs in Hip-Hop history turns forty-five soon. On 16th September, 1979, The Sugarhill Gang’s Rapper’s Delight was released. The debut single from the trio, it was produced by Sylvia Robinson. This mammoth song is credited with introducing Hip-Hop to a wide audience and the world at large. A bigger success in the U.K. than it was in the U.S., the New Jersey trio changed music. Referencing and interpolating Chic's Good Times, it did create some legal issues when The Sugarhill Gang were almost sued by Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards. Because this iconic song is forty-five soon, I am bringing in a few features. This NPR feature from 2000 takes us inside this one-take hit. A song that is among the most influential of all time:

"Rapper's Delight" is built on the rhythm of an earlier cultural phenomenon: disco. The groove was taken from the tune "Good Times" by Chic. The song was such a big dance hit that a small New Jersey label thought it might be able to capitalize on its popularity. All Platinum Records was co-founded by Sylvia Robinson, who'd had a few hits of her own — "Pillow Talk" and "Love Is Strange" — as part of the duo Mickey & Sylvia. But by 1979, her label was facing bankruptcy.

Robinson's son Joey says she saw a way out of Chapter 11 one night at a Harlem club.

"She saw where a DJ was talking and the crowd was responding to what he was saying, and this was the first time that she ever saw this before," Joey Robinson says. "And she said, 'Joey, wouldn't this be a great idea to make a rap record?' "

The story goes that Big Bank Hank, Wonder Mike and Master Gee met Sylvia Robinson on a Friday and recorded "Rapper's Delight" the following Monday in just one take.

The "Rapper's Delight" 12-inch was released in September 1979. It was 15 minutes long, and yet black radio started playing it — so much so that Sugarhill Gang recorded a seven-minute version for pop stations and introduced the black neighborhood sound of the 1970s to white listeners.

Harry Allen, from The Village Voice and Vibe magazine, says that, until then, rap had been for young black males with few opportunities. It gave them a way of making their voices heard.

"So what hip-hop fashioned," he says, "was a conduit whereby people who normally are locked out of telling get to tell."

But perhaps the reason "Rapper's Delight" crossed over was that it was anything but political.

"It wasn't too heavy," Wonder Mike says. "It wasn't the message that was years later. It wasn't 'bash the police' — that was years after that. What I wanted to portray was three guys having fun. We were always bragging about stuff we didn't have to impress the chicks."

Like a lot of hip-hop culture, "Rapper's Delight" created its share of controversy — starting with the fact that its playful groove did not reflect the urban anger of other rap at the time. The Sugarhill Gang was also criticized because two of its members were from New Jersey. And none of them had ever been a DJ or an MC.

"DJ AJ, Grandmaster Flash, Afrika Bambaataa, Kool Herc — all of these guys were local DJs who would do local shows here in New York," Bronx rapper Kurtis Blow says. "So when the Sugarhill Gang made it, the guys who had been doing this thing sort of felt like they were being ripped off — or, you know, 'These guys are not a part of the Bronx, and they didn't struggle to bring hip-hop to this point to 1979.' And so there was a lot of animosity toward the Sugarhill Gang in the beginning."

Despite some additional controversy surrounding who wrote the rhymes, "Rapper's Delight" is an important record. Kurtis Blow said it jump-started the careers of several Bronx rappers, including himself.

"When it came out, nothing was the same afterwards," writer Harry Allen says. "It made everything else possible. I was speaking to my good friend Chuck D, of Public Enemy, and when he first heard that there were going to be rap records, his thing was, 'How are you going to put three hours on a record?' Because that's the way MCs used to rhyme. They'd just rhyme and rhyme and rhyme for hours”.

Taking things forward to 2017, The Guardian spoke with ‘Master Gee’ and ‘Master Mike’ about making this classic. A song whose true impact and influence is almost impossible to define. Forty-five years after its release, we are still feeling and seeing the influence and power of this track. Rapper’s Delight is a track that can never be dated. It sounds so fresh and original, we will be listening to it for decades to come:

“Guy ‘Master Gee’ O’Brien, songwriter-rapper

When I was in 10th grade in New Jersey, I went to a party and heard someone talking rhythmically through a mic. “That’s rapping,” he said. “That’s what they’re doing in New York.” I had started DJ-ing to make some money and added rapping to my repertoire.

At this point, it was something we did at parties. Nobody thought of it as commercial. Then Sylvia Robinson, founder of the hip-hop label Sugar Hill, decided to make a record, and looked for talent in New Jersey, where she was living. Big Bank Hank rapped and made pizzas, so she auditioned him in front of the pizza parlour. I rapped in her car, then Wonder Mike was next. “I can’t choose,” she said. “So I’ll put you all together.”

Chic’s Good Times was great to rap to. The tempo was right and the bassline was high. That became the basis of Rapper’s Delight. The intro came from Here Comes That Sound Again by a British group named Love De-Luxe. There were no samplers at the time, so the backing track was laid down by Sugar Hill signees Positive Force, who played the Chic rhythm, which we rapped over. I was unknown, but figured if I rapped about “foxy ladies and pretty girls” it would get me more attention. It worked. My line about being the “baddest rapper” was wishful thinking, though.

Chic’s Nile Rodgers wasn’t happy, but he now says Rapper’s Delight is one of his favourite tracks. It is one of his most lucrative – we gave him a credit. Then it turned out that Hank’s rhymes had been written by another MC, Grandmaster Caz. We’ve given him credit in public and done shows with him, and he’s cool about it. But I’m sure it bothers him every time he hears it.

I thought we’d made the first rap record. Then I was at a party and heard the Fatback Band’s King Tim III, which featured rapping with singing. I thought someone had beat us to the punch. But they’d made it a B-side. Ours became a smash.

Michael ‘Wonder Mike’ Wright, songwriter-rapper

At parties, guys would pass mics around for hours, so rapping for 20 minutes in a studio seemed like nothing. When we made the record we kept coming up with clever things and the producers never stopped us. The finished recording was 19 minutes long, all the rap done in one take, but we cut it to 15, making the intro shorter and cutting out some party noise.

My rap was part planned, part spontaneous. I wanted the start to be powerful and was inspired by that old sci-fi show The Outer Limits, which began: “There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture.” So my introduction went: “Now what you hear is not a test, I’m rappin’ to the beat.” And, because I wanted to appeal everyone, I said: “I’d like to say hello to the black, to the white, the red and the brown.”

One line was a spoken drum roll: 'To the bang-bang boogie, say up jump the boogie to the rhythm of the boogie, the beat'

No one has ever been able to ascertain whether Lovebug Starski or the Furious Five’s Keith “Cowboy” Wiggins came up with the term hip-hop, but I’d heard the phrase through my cousin and just started going: “Hip-hop, hippie to the hippie, to the hip-hip-hop and you don’t stop.” The part where I go, “To the bang-bang boogie, say up jump the boogie to the rhythm of the boogie, the beat” is basically a spoken drum roll. I liked the percussive sound of the letter B.

When I was seven, I saw the Beatles’ film, A Hard Day’s Night, with all the screaming girls. When Rapper’s Delight hit, there was a lot of hysteria. We were in a record shop and the manager had to ferry us out through the back. I remember thinking: “Man, this is just like A Hard Day’s Night”.

I am going to end with a 2023 article from SPIN. Taking things more up to date, this is a new perspective from ‘Wonder Mike’. So interesting reading how Rapper’s Delight came together. On 16th September, we mark forty-five years since the release of a seminal record. It is not too grand to say that it changed the course of music history. I discovered the song when I was young and was fascinated from that first listen. A unique and timeless track:

“Rags to Riches…Literally

I was between residences when we recorded that song and when I auditioned. Miss Robinson didn’t know who to pick. She originally wanted one rapper, but we all went up there. We were up at her house until like 3:30 or 4:00 in the morning. She said she couldn’t decide, so she put all three of together to make the group. She said three was her favorite number because she had seen groups in the past with three members like the Moments and some other people. That was a Friday night — and she didn’t bullshit.

On Monday, we went down to the studio and a group called Positive Force laid down the music. It took about eight hours. They played everything for 15 minutes — actually 19 — and we cut it down to 15. And then we went in there and did our parts. I was on the left, Hank was in the middle, and Gee was on the right. That was it.

I was still homeless when I recorded “Rapper’s Delight.” We listened to it until about 4:00 a.m., and everybody said, “I think we might have a hit here.” And I said, “Play it again!” I had nowhere to go. I thought to myself, “Well, I can kill two hours and then go to the diner or something when it opens.” But everybody started leaving, and I was pretending I was waiting on my cousin in the parking lot of the studio, but I was really going to go across the street to the park. Miss Robinson pulled up and said, “Hey, Mike, what are you doing?” I told her I was waiting on a ride from my cousin. She said, “No, you’re not. You’re going to sleep in that park.” I was like, “Oh, wow.” I couldn’t say anything. She said “jump in,” and I went from the park to her eight-bedroom, Spanish-style mansion up on a hill.

I was emotionally blank when she said that. I was like, “Oh, damn, I don’t want anybody to know this shit.” But she’s driving a Rolls-Royce, and I know she’s got money because she’s Sylvia Robinson. Pride is foolish. It’s the original sin. This was August. Next month was September, and the seasons were getting colder. I thought, “Nope, I’m getting in the car—nevermind this pride mess.” I got to her house, everybody was asleep and she went to bed. I was down in the kitchen, and there were some dinner rolls that were rising on the counter. I didn’t know anything about rising rolls, and to me, they were half-baked. So, I ate 10 half-bakedrolls. To me, it tasted like steak.

All Night Long

There was nothing hard about making this record. Nineteen minutes wasn’t nothing to us because we’re used to throwing parties—that’s forever on record. But it didn’t feel like anything to us because we were used to rapping all night. All of us were instrumental in making the song. It was collaborative effort. I was influenced by hunger pangs in my stomach. I was influenced by looking up at night and seeing the stars instead of a ceiling.

To tell you the truth, I was never insecure. But I knew my bad luck had to turn around somehow. I was trying to make it turn around. I was working at a candy factory, moving furniture, breaking up swimming pools and hauling them away. I was going to go into the Air Force, but then I heard about the audition. I was the last one to audition, but we all got the job. And that was that.

Working Like A Dog

I was 22 years old when “Rapper’s Delight” came out. Fifteen years earlier, at just seven years old, I went to see A Hard Day’s Nightwith the Beatles. Women were going nuts and screaming and all that, and that’s what they did at our shows. It was like deja vu. And the Saturday after our first two shows, Miss Robinson took us to 225thStreet in Harlem. We got a bunch of clothes and we walked around, and we kept hearing “Rapper’s Delight” in the stores…from different radio stations in cars, barber shops, butchers, clothing stores, buses, tow trucks—everybody was playing it. But we knew we had a hit the night we recorded it because nobody had ever done it. They hadn’t heard this yet.

Living the Dream

It’s crazy because there are a million hip-hop groups now, and there’s been like six…seven different genres, time periods, and styles. The first voice they heard on this record was mine, Michael Wright, son of Dolores and William, who grew up in Newark. Me. We used to sing Beatles songs after school and the girls would chase us just like A Hard Day’s Night. I dug it. Next thing I know, it’s happening in real life. I’m living it.

Mike Vs. Wonder Mike

I catch myself sometimes just in awe of what I’ve accomplished. But when I’m at home, I take the trash out, whatever, and I don’t trip about this business. I’m just Mike at home. When I cross a threshold into that arena into that world, I have a healthy respect for my position in this business.

Before There Was Instagram…

We didn’t have an official music video for “Rapper’s Delight,” but somebody filmed our performance one night at the Soap Factory in New Jersey. It was right next to Route 80. They used to actually make soap and then it turned into a coffee shop. By September 1979, when we performed there, it was a club. But seeing the video doesn’t elicit anything nostalgic anymore. It used to. But I’ve seen it a trillion times and I remember that night. That’s about it. But if it’s a good day, hearing “Rapper’s Delight” takes me back to the early days when the song was new. And, you know, the girls would chase us off the stage before we finished, and we’d have to run out the alley. Those are good memories.

Chic Regrets

Nobody went about it doing it the right way as far as getting written permission and all that. If you’re going to cover a song, I think that’s different. I don’t think you have to get permission to cover a song, but if you use part of a song to make a new song by you, then you gotta straighten that shit out.

Some things worked out and some things never will because of how they were situated the first time. When we first dropped the record, our names and Miss Robinson’s name was on it—not Nile Rogers and Bernard Edwards. They sued. We said, “Okay,” but the next round of records had only their names and none of ours. I think it stayed like that for like 40 years. We were like, “No way, Motherfucker. You didn’t write any of our lyrics. We did. Put our name on it.” We didn’t write the music and I’m a fair person, so we put your names on it. You didn’t write any of the lyrics, so put our names on it. But we didn’t redo “Good Times.” We should have just had what Chic sang, then it wouldn’t have been a problem. But we made a new song using their shit. I’m glad they finally gave Curtis Brown [Grandmaster Caz] his props. He wrote all of Hank’s raps. We’re still getting love off of it.

I Said-a Hip, Hop

My advice to my younger self would be to keep writing. I got married and had four kids. That was 13 years where I wasn’t doing anything with music. Nothing. I was moving furniture, painting houses and refinishing wood floors. which I loved because it was my company. I didn’t work for anybody. But when I got divorced, I kind of gave my ex-wife the company and I was like, “I’m not going back to being assedout.” So, I got back with the guys and started touring.

My relationship with Master Gee is good. I don’t have any relationship with Hank obviously because he died [in 2014], but me and Gee are still tight. In fact, we were still going out until I got sick last year. Sugarhill Gang still goes out, but they have a replacement for me right now. People are understanding because who the fuck sticks together for 40-something years? That’s rare. When you think about it Journey was together for 10 years, we were together for 43. But yeah, I gotta get back on stage—and I will”.

If we look at hip-Hop songs and those that define the genre, everyone will have their own opinions and thoughts. When it comes to those that moved things forward and did more to push the genre to new people I don’t think that Rapper’s Delight can be beaten! The debut single from The Sugarhill Gang, their incredible song has done more than any other. I don’t think that any Hip-Hop song is…

AS important as this.

FEATURE: Sleeping on An Icon: Why We Need to Cherish and Share Music Legends Whilst They Are With Us

FEATURE:

 

 

Sleeping on An Icon

 IN THIS PHOTO: Paul Simon/PHOTO CREDIT: T.J. Kirkpatrick for The New York Times

Why We Need to Cherish and Share Music Legends Whilst They Are With Us

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RATHER than this being grim…

PHOTO CREDIT: Diana Onfilm/Pexels

and talking about the mortality and lifespan of musicians, it is a plea to music fans out there. Specifically younger listeners. Those who maybe ignore an artist because they are ‘before their time’. I think this is a real problem. Others might be too involved with modern music to really appreciate those who have inspired these current greats. What happens when we lost an amazing artist that has been recording for years is that many people come out of the woodwork. They will express their sadness and write how big a loss it is. How they love that person’s work and that this is a huge tragedy. I don’t know how genuine this is. Whether you get this rather phoned-in or copy-and-paste reaction to death. If you pressed a person, would they really have that knowledge and relationship with that artist?! It does seem morbid. I think that we do need to investigate and spend time with icons now. Rather than leave things until they pass and we express how much that artist meant to us – when they probably didn’t really -, there needs to be more of an attachment to these legends. It does come back to that thing as to whether we are led to same-sounding music. If algorithms and streaming services point us towards music that is quite similar. If we get caught in this cycle of being recommended daily playlists on streaming services and will always listen to what is suggested. In terms of the mainstream and what is around now, there is a lot of samey music. Not enough diversity and range within. This might also affect what we listen to and how we approach music. If we stick with a very similar sound. There is a generation that grew up on icons and that is what they listen to most. I am conscious that there are generations that either do not know about these artists or listened to them when they were children or teens - and they have now put them aside. Because these people are not recording or not as frequently as they used to, we tend to forget. Everything is about the new and upcoming. I do feel that we slip by older artists.

Think about some of the true greats who, in a decade or so, might not be with us. Possibly less. Joni Mitchell, Paul Simon, Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Bob Dylan. Maybe they need not be as huge as them. These are artists who have given so much and I don’t think we should leave it there. Recognise how important they are now and what they have given to music. It makes me wonder whether there needs to be documentaries about these artists. I have been thinking about artists like Paul McCartney, Joni Mitchell and Paul Simon. These amazing songwriters who might leave us in the next decade. It is not too late for people who maybe have been sleeping on these icons to do something about it. We are in a culture where older music is not as recognised and recommended as it should be. There is this thing about what is new and current being trendy and preferred. There is a whole generation of musicians that are almost being ignored. Assumed their day is done. Even someone like Madonna. Popular when she goes on tour, yet I wonder whether there are generations that should be picking her music up and talking about it more. As she is not recording at the moment, she is seen as less relevant as a  modern-day great. There aren’t really documentaries or anything new about these legends. If I think about these icons that are still with us and we need to celebrate, there is not really a lot of new investigation and appreciation. Making sure that young generations know about them. That those who briefly engaged with their music know more. It is quite sad to think that we will loss some great artists and many people will post half-hearted or cliché reaction – and they would have missed out on so much.

We do need to appreciate these artists whilst we have them. It is quite sad when we see this parade of famous people come out when an artist dies and say how they have always been fans or it is a massive loss. How sincere that is. Maybe time is against some of the oldest artists who might leave us shortly, but not necessarily so. There is this archive for each of them. In terms of the music itself and interviews with them. Again, I think we are driven in modern culture to listen to what is new. A lot of what sounds similar. We really do have to get out of that habit. It is so important to cherish some of these magnificent and decades-long artists who have given us so much. Really understand how much they have contributed. Without them, so much of what is around today would not exist. There are studies that show how we explore new music less as we get older. It might mean that people who grew up with music greats are less likely to move forward and may stick with what they know. I am talking to those people who have either overlooked a great or did not grow up around them. This feature was inspired by a phrase in the recent book, Quantum Criminals: Ramblers, Wild Gamblers, and Other Sole Survivors from the Songs of Steely Dan. Written by Alex Pappademas, it is a book about the characters in Steely Dan songs. Pappademas was writing about the death of Walter Becker in 2017 and how all these celebrities came out and expressed how much he meant to them. How inauthentic their words were. How, as he said, they “slept on an icon”. Missed out on someone great whilst they were with us. It is the way with many artists we have lost. It was that way when Amy Winehouse died in 2011. It is quite sad that we miss out on so much. That thing when we loss great artists and didn’t really spend enough time getting to know their music. Rather than leave things until then, we need to spend time away from what is new or in our collection and embrace these legends. The media and filmmakers doing more to highlight these artists and putting something out that will engage with younger listeners. Rather than rely on a certain generation(s) keeping this music alive and it being assumed icons are cherished by all, I don’t think that is the case. So many are being overlooked. We need to talk about them now and tell them how much they mean to us…

BEFORE it is too late.

FEATURE: State of the World: Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814 at Thirty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

State of the World

Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814 at Thirty-Five

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THERE is debate…

as to which Janet Jackson album is best. All of them are worthy, though I do think that Control (1986), Janet (1993) or The Velvet Rope (1997) could get in the medal positions. These albums are all hugely acclaimed and successful. All different and astonishing. Within this golden run of albums was Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814. Released on 19th September, 1989, I wanted to mark thirty-five years of perhaps her best album. I think it just shades Janet. I have not heard whether there is a special anniversary reissue of Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814. A chart-topper in the U.S., 1989 was a year where Janet Jackson was at the peak of her powers. After the success of Control, A&M Records wanted something similar. One of the worst traits of record labels: if an album becomes successful then artists should do the same once more rather than evolving or having a say. Instead, Jackson built this concept album that tackled social issues. She worked with some amazing songwriters like Terry Lewis and mixed a range of genres to create this compelling and incredible album. I want to get to some features that explore Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814. I would recommend you read this 2014 feature from Billboard on the twenty-fifth anniversary of a classic album. They spoke with songwriters Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis to guide us through the tracks. I just want to drop in the introduction:

“If Janet Jackson‘s third album, 1986’s Control, was a declaration of independence, the follow-up, Rhythm Nation 1814, was a constitution — a blueprint for the kind of country that this confident, sexy and newly independent 23-year old woman wanted to live in. At least it was for roughly a third of its runtime.

Released 25 years ago tomorrow (Sept. 19, 1989), Rhythm Nation 1814 begins with a pledge: “We are a nation with no geographic boundaries, bound together through our beliefs.” From there, it goes into the title track, a national anthem for this colorblind utopia Janet has imagined. The four digits in the album’s title refer to the year “The Star-Spangled Banner” was written, and with the help of James “Jimmy Jam” Harris III and Terry Lewis — the production team behind Control — Jackson gives Francis Scott Key‘s greatest hit a New Jack Swing remake.

Rhythm Nation stays political for a few songs and then segues into kinder, gentler relationship songs, many of which dominated radio and MTV. An unprecedented seven of the album’s singles made the Top 5 of the Billboard Hot 100, and four of them — “Miss You Much, “Escapade,” “Love Will Never Do (Without You)” and “Black Cat” — hit No. 1. The album, not surprisingly, topped the Billboard 200, vaulting Janet to a level of pop mega-stardom almost on par with that of her brother Michael Jackson”.

Moving onto a feature from The New Yorker written by Amanda Petrusich. Diving into an album that was a “post-racial utopia founded on the power of groove”, it is a fascinating article. I hope that more is written about it ahead of its thirty-fifth anniversary. If you have not heard Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814, I would definitely urge you to do so. It is one of the greatest albums of all time:

“Its title (Jackson added the 1814 because that’s the year the national anthem was composed) suggests a kind of musical Arcadia, where everyone is unified by a deep and undeniable imperative to move: a compulsory shoulder pop, an instinctive wiggle, or whatever it is that happens to your body when you hear someone yell, “Gimme a beat!” D.j.s in particular had been arguing for decades that dance could be a way of minimizing the distance between races, genders, and creeds. David Mancuso, a legend of New York disco, often spoke about the dance floors he commanded as fiercely egalitarian, a place where hierarchies were instantly erased and the crowd became a single, loving organism.

Jackson opens the record with a strange monologue: a call for unity, chanted in a steady monotone.

We are a nation with no geographic boundaries, bound together through our beliefs. We are like-minded individuals, sharing a common vision, pushing toward a world rid of color lines.

“Interlude: Pledge” from “Rhythm Nation 1814”

The citizens of Rhythm Nation are universalists, rallying only for the greater good, which makes “Rhythm Nation 1814” feel, in some ways, like the last major pop record that could credibly be described as optimistic. Already by the late nineteen-eighties, Jackson’s entreaties sounded gentle and idealistic compared to those of more radicalized consciousness-raising artists.

Public Enemy and N.W.A. arguably had a more profound influence on pop culture today; it’s hard to imagine a contemporary pop star, who came of age in an era when intersectionality is the dominant critical framework, successfully insisting that we’re all more similar than we think. The vision of a world in “Rhythm Nation,” in which societal ills such as poverty, drug use, and unemployment are merely individual problems, not inextricably linked to systemic injustice, hasn’t aged especially well. The colossal empowerment anthems of our time—such as Beyoncé’s “Formation,” from 2016—are less about erasing difference than claiming and celebrating it.

Jackson was incalculably influential in other ways, though, including in her use of the music-video format. A thirty-minute long-form music video, which Jackson’s team took to calling a “telemusical,” was produced to promote the record just prior to its release. It contained three distinct, shorter videos—for the singles “Miss You Much,” “The Knowledge,” and “Rhythm Nation”—all shot in black-and-white, surely a nod to Jackson’s vision of a color-blind society. The story line functions as a kind of P.S.A., following two kids with big dreams whose lives are ravaged by drugs.

The video premièred on MTV, and was later released on VHS. The eighties were a remarkable moment for the synching of the musical and the televisual, an idea seeded by Elvis Presley’s provocative, hip-thrusting appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show,” three decades before. Michael Jackson’s fourteen-minute video for “Thriller,” which was directed by John Landis, premièred in late 1983; it was followed by groundbreaking video work from Peter Gabriel, Dire Straits, and Madonna.

Janet Jackson worked with Anthony Thomas, then an unknown choreographer, who later honed the pop-and-lock (he was influenced by the jerky, rousing funk and disco dances developed on the West Coast in the nineteen-seventies), and is now often referred to as “the man who changed the face of hip-hop.” The video for “Miss You Much,” choreographed by Jackson and Thomas, includes an incredibly captivating chair routine that would be imitated for years after.

Jackson’s pioneering integration of the visual and the musical wasn’t immediately recognized or appreciated by critics. In the eighties and early nineties, music journalists often considered too much spectacle a distraction, or evidence of something prefabricated and therefore inauthentic. “Spontaneity has been ruled out,” Jon Pareles wrote of Jackson’s live show in 1990. “Rockism,” as it later came to be known, valued songwriting and a particular kind of pained earnestness over practiced performance. As a young critic, I internalized these values so thoroughly that it took me years to unlearn them, to figure out how to trust pleasure and lightness and drama. Eventually, criticism in general remade itself, and writers now routinely acknowledge that there’s a distinct and sophisticated art to the extra-musical extravaganza”.

I am going to end with an anniversary feature from Albumism from 2019. Marking thirty years of Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814, this is an album that is still so relevant and powerful today. Maybe that is the power of Janet Jackson’s music and voice. It may be a reflection on the way the world is slow to change and we do not learn lessons. It means Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814 will never sounded dated or a product of its time:

“Where Control was an album about a woman staking her independence and coming into her own, the follow-up would cast its gaze wider to the world around her. Heavily influenced by Marvin Gaye’s landmark What’s Going On (1971) album, Jackson wondered if a modern take holding a mirror up to the social issues of the time could be achieved.

And so, with producers and confident confidants Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis by her side, the trio bunkered down during the winter of 1989 at Flyte Tyme studios in Minneapolis to make an album that could inspire a generation to become more socially conscious of the world they live in and the part they can play.

Fueled by the notion of creating a collective not bound by space, race, gender or sexual orientation, Jackson formed the Rhythm Nation, adding the numerals 1814 to reflect the year the Star Spangled Banner was written (and purely coincidentally, R and N are the 18th and 14th letters in the alphabet, respectively.)

Pumping out of the speakers, “Rhythm Nation” is a tour de force of metallic tribal beats, drum loops and samples featuring Sly and The Family Stone’s “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)” and Jackson’s own hits from the Control album. A frenetic industrial groove underpins Jackson’s vocals as she implores, “Join voices in protest to social injustice / A generation full of courage, come forth with me.” The song deftly marches the fine line of being rousing without being preachy, capturing the ideology and purpose behind Jackson’s message all wrapped up in a hard to sit still groove.

From “Rhythm Nation,” we segue into “State of The World” via a channel surfing interlude that mimics Jackson’s own experience of watching news stories on CNN and being moved into action.

“State of The World” pulls no punches as it addresses the scourge of drugs, homelessness, prostitution, school shootings, poverty, teen suicide and teen pregnancy. Rather than trying to solve the problems in a four-minute pop song, Jackson decides to bring awareness to these issues and hopes to encourage her listeners to think about what they can do to drive change. Amidst the clanging metallic beats and wandering synth bass, the dire situation is given a voice and perhaps some hope as Jackson sings “Can’t give up hope now / Let’s weather the storm together.”

If “State of The World” presented real world problems, the following track, the beat heavy “The Knowledge,” offers a way out. Extolling the virtues of the United Negro College Fund’s motto “A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste,” Janet advocates for her listeners to pursue the power and opportunity that education brings and the doors it can open. One of Jackson’s most powerful songs, it (along with many of the songs from Rhythm Nation) remains incredibly vital and modern in both its outlook and sonic representation.

The album’s opening trio of songs clearly establishes the project’s intent and mission. Having challenged and opened minds, Jackson was now ready to give the listener a little reprieve from the social messaging with the dance-pop fare of “Miss You Much.” As she states in the interlude “Get the point? Good, let’s dance,” she’s stated her point and is now ready to celebrate some of the more positive moments in life, namely love.

As the first single from the outing, “Miss You Much” was the bridge between the dance orientation of Control and the new direction of RN1814 the record label, and maybe even fans, pined for. Its instantly catchy groove and playful vocal delivery primed, this dancefloor filler bubbles with pop-funk and sweeps the listener away with its airy vocal melodies and ode to new love.

The slinky bassline of “Love Will Never Do Without You” seduces with ease as Jackson sings about the desire for a fulfilling love, even one against the odds. With a shimmering arrangement beneath her, Jackson delivers one of her finest moments on record. Often characterized as having a whispering vocal, here Jackson sings with strength and confidence and layers the song in lush backing harmonies that glisten with every passing line.

But as reality is oft want to do, these moments of relief are cracked by the harsh brutality of life. Inspired by the Stockton Playground Shooting that took place during the recording sessions, “Living In A World (They Didn’t Make)” is a somber reflection on the ills adults create for the next generation. Again, Jackson isn’t trying to claim she knows all the answers, but rather presents an issue for the listener to ponder.

Closing the midpoint of the album with “Living In A World,” Jackson frees up the second half of the project to explore a brighter side of existence kicking off with the jubilant, springing “Alright” with its New Jack Swing groove and acid house inspired loops and squeaky bass. If the first side of the album is characterized by the dominant black and white moody photography of the album cover, then “Alright” is an explosion of Technicolor bursting at the seams.

“Escapade,” with its pure pop sensibility, is smile inducing. Jackson’s playful personality is perfectly captured on record and underpinned by an irresistible chorus and double clap accompaniment. Its light and airy feel is the perfect counterpoint to the heaviness of the album openers.

As the only wholly self-penned track on the album, “Black Cat” exposes Jackson’s rockier side and gives us a glimpse into the challenging relationships of her past. Set against a classic rock beat and raucous guitars, she growls in her vocals, offering a raspier, rawer delivery that resonated with both rock and pop audiences, giving Jackson one of her four Number 1 singles from the album.

Just as the album opened with a trio of songs focusing on social consciousness, the album closes with another trio of songs, this time focused on relationships, love and sexuality. “Lonely” leads the pack with a slow-jam of densely stacked harmonies and swaying melodies. “Come Back To Me” is a pleading ballad of lament and longing, and “Someday Is Tonight” is the sexual climax of Control’s “Let’s Wait A While,” where Jackson delivers on the promise of being “worth the wait.” Sensual and breathy, Jackson seduces and pulls you in, setting the tone for her more sexual slow burn songs that would close out many of her albums that would follow this.

Rhythm Nation 1814 is perhaps the most perfect encapsulation of Janet Jackson. In many ways it became the blueprint for her albums that would follow both in structure and sequencing. And despite the fears of her record label, it was an unqualified smash success, surpassing the sales of its predecessor and cementing Jackson’s place within the superstar sphere.

Accompanied by a powerful and engaging 30-minute mini-movie, Rhythm Nation 1814 found Jackson wearing her heart on her black military inspired sleeve and dared to make a difference. In what would soon be iconic black and white imagery and oft repeated dance moves, Jackson created a look, feel, and sound of a whole generation to feel a part of.

But more important than the millions of sales and countless Top Ten hits, the album made an impact in people’s lives. It opened eyes. It gave voice to the issues of the day. It encouraged its listeners to make a difference in the world and their own lives. It made them care.

And it made a difference. If music has the power to connect us to an emotion or feel a part of something bigger, then Rhythm Nation did that. Kids hearing “The Knowledge” were inspired to stay on in school or seek a college education. People wary of differences became less fearful and embraced them. It inspired a generation to believe, to have hope, and feel that they could make a change. It engaged and connected with the listener. And it gave the listener a feeling of belonging, a place to feel good, to feel empowered.

Thirty years on and Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814 is still a landmark album. It still resonates. And sadly, it reflects many of the ills that still plague us. It’s both a time capsule and a mirror. A movement for the heart and mind. It’s a near flawless album. One that pulled Jackson once and for all out of the shadows of her elder siblings and made her a bona fide superstar who can still sell out arenas to this day. It’s an important milestone not only in Jackson’s career, but in the musical landscape in general. And when talk centers around great albums with a social conscience, it deserves to be included”.

On 19th September, Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814 turns thirty-five. In my view, Janet Jackson’s greatest and most important album. The Rhythm Nation World Tour 1990 became the most successful debut concert tour by a recording artist at the time. Timely and important in 1989, the themes addressed throughout Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814 are still relevant to this day. It makes me think how we need another album like this today. Thirty-five years after its release, this album still creates shockwaves and impressions. It affects and resounds…

IN 2024.

FEATURE: The Digital Mixtape: Nina Persson at Fifty: An Ultimate Playlist

FEATURE:

 

 

The Digital Mixtape

Nina Persson at Fifty: An Ultimate Playlist

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A wonderful artist and songwriter…

IN THIS PHOTO: The Cardigans

I discovered in the 1990s as a child is Nina Persson. The lead of The Cardigans, she turns fifty on 6th September. I wanted to celebrate this amazing artist. Someone who has also worked solo and as a collaborator. I am going to end with a career-spanning playlist featuring some of her solo material, work with other musicians, plus a good selection of tracks with The Cardigans. A definite icon of the 1990s and a legend in her own right, she deserves to be recognised. Before I ger to that playlist, AllMusic have a biography of Nina Persson. Someone who has had a truly amazing career:

“Known primarily as the frontwoman for the '90s-formed Swedish indie pop heroes the Cardigans, Nina Persson also went on to front the solo project A Camp for a pair of albums in the 2000s. While living in New York she issued a proper solo album, the '80s-inspired Animal Heart, in 2014 before moving back to Sweden. Persson was relatively quiet in the late 2010s, resurfacing every now and then for a guest spot or collaborative single, but in 2023 she shared top billing with U.K. folk artist James Yorkston on The Great White Sea Eagle, which also featured Swedish chamber group the Second Hand Orchestra.

Growing up in Jönköping, Sweden, Persson was a relative latecomer to pop music, only beginning to show interest in it when she was well into her teens. After meeting Peter Svensson and Magnus Sveningsson while at art college, she was asked to front the Cardigans even before she'd performed live on-stage. In the mid-'90s the band issued four albums -- from 1994's twee, soft-released Emmerdale to 1998's three million-selling Gran Turismo -- while steadily finding further worldwide commercial success with each concurrent release; the band managed to achieve this while gradually pursuing darker themes and sounds along the way.

Released in 1996, First Band on the Moon -- which featured the international hit "Lovefool" -- was the first Cardigans record to include lyrics penned by Persson, and by the time a band hiatus arrived due to various bandmembers' family commitments, she was more than equipped to be the main creative force behind the solo side project that she named A Camp. The 2001-released, self-titled album was produced in the main by Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse, but also featured some production and instrumentation from ex-Shudder to Think guitarist Nathan Larson, who Persson married that same year following their relocation to New York in 2000

In the mid-2000s, the Cardigans resumed work and released a pair of albums, each of which topped the Swedish charts. 2003's Per Sunding-produced, country-influenced Long Gone Before Daylight continued the band's tradition of progressively issuing downbeat material, while 2005's Super Extra Gravity saw the return of Tore Johansson, who had produced each of the band's '90s albums.

The second politically themed A Camp album, Colonia, took influence from classic pop of the '60s and '70s and appeared in 2009, the same year that her contribution to the Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse album Dark Night of the Soul was made available. In 2010, Persson gave birth to her son Nils, and subsequently -- although she contributed vocals to Larson's soundtrack projects of the period, as well as to James Iha's album Look to the Sky -- became less focused on making music in the years that followed. However, by 2014 she had readied a proper solo album, the first to appear under her own name. Released that February, sessions for the '80s pop-inspired Animal Heart took place in collaboration with both Larson and Fruit Bats mainstay Eric D. Johnson. After this Persson and her family relocated from New York back to Sweden and settled in Malmö. Apart from a pair of Swedish-language singles featuring, among others, Bob Hund frontman Thomas Öberg, she kept a low profile until 2022 when she teamed up with Scottish folk singer/songwriter James Yorkston. Released in 2023 The Great White Sea Eagle marked Yorkston's second project with Swedish chamber pop group the Second Hand Orchestra. As longtime admirers of Persson, Yorkston and producer Karl-Jonas Winqvist invited her to be the featured vocalist on many of the album's songs”.

A singular voice and songwriter, I am glad I have an excuse to feature Nina Persson! Turning fifty on 6th September, I do hope that we get more music from her soon. Whether that is another solo album or anything with another musician. I am not sure whether we will get any new music from The Cardigans. In any case, below is a playlist that shows what an amazing artist Persson is. Here is a collection of songs from…

A music icon.

FEATURE: Spotlight: KNEECAP

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

IN THIS PHOTO: Kneecap backstage at Glastonbury 2024/PHOTO CREDIT: Andy Ford for NME

KNEECAP

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I am a little late…

getting to the KNEECAP party. The second studio album from the trio, Fine Art, was released in June. It is one of the most acclaimed albums of this year. I will get to a couple of those reviews to end this feature. Before that, there are some interviews I want to spotlight. Mo Chara, Móglaí Bap and DJ Próvaí are KNEECAP. One of the most respected, promising and controversial groups around.  A film about the band has just been released. KNEECAP charts the rise of the Belfast-based trio. It has won some rave reviews. It is a perfect time to discover KNEECAP. I will start off with an interview from The Line of Best Fit. A thrilling and terrific band who were and are rebelling through rave:

“Sitting alongside him, Móglaí Bap (Naoise O'Cairealláin, and the other half to Chara), is quick to jump in. "You’re not deeply thinking about anything," he quips, prompting a returning slew of insults, a burst of laughter from the third part of this trio, DJ Próvaí (JJ O Dochartaigh), and quickly solidifying the personality of Kneecap.

In the relatively short span since this hip-hop band’s formation, Kneecap has rocketed from local notoriety to international acclaim. The raw energy and irreverent wit that quickly set them apart also led to debut single, "C.E.A.R.T.A," (Irish for ‘Rights’) being banned by the Irish language radio station RTÉ Raidió na Gaeltachta in 2017. In 2019, the South Belfast Democratic Unionist Party openly criticised them for chants of “Brits out” during one of their performances – which later went on to inspire their shamelessly satirical single “Get your Brits Out”. Even now, they’re suing the UK Government after their £15,000 Music Export Growth Scheme grant was revoked, with officials citing it would be inappropriate to fund "people that oppose the United Kingdom itself."

“Where we come from is obviously so cheery,” jokes Bap, “when we started off in music we had criticism coming from both sides of the community. So we definitely don’t discriminate when it comes to taking the piss.” Próvaí adds with a grin, “Though there are some things you can’t joke about.” He doesn’t elaborate on what those ‘somethings’ are; despite their outspoken personas, the group knows where they draw the line. Their debut longplayer Fine Art, released last week on Heavenly Records, exemplifies this ethos. It’s an unapologetic celebration of their heritage, scattered with pointed commentary on the socio-political landscape they tread. However, fans might be surprised if they were expecting something as openly incendiary as their earlier projects.

“We are absolutely thinking about what we’re saying,” shares Bap, reflecting on the band’s hope that Fine Art will still press some buttons, “but here we were thinking about the music a lot more…Not that we were focusing on pissing people off before. It was just the subject matter.”

With Toddla T on board as producer for Fine Art , Kneecap aimed to “up the ante” musically. “Toddla’s like real professional. He’s worked with everyone and had everyone in that studio. It brings out the best in you, being around people like that,” Chara continues. “You really feed off it”.

Kneecap are a band still surprised by their rapid rise: “We started writing tunes about, you know, killing sniffer dogs,” says Chara with a laugh. “We didn’t expect to get signed by a record label…we were quite sceptical of English people kind of profiting off our long-standing history,” adds Bap. With everything falling into place, Fine Art showcases Kneecap’s growth, exploring boundaries and creative depths with newfound support, regardless of their occasional headline-making antics. And still, despite the polish and layers and new instrumentation, their music retains the same confidence, banter, and booziness that defines them.

“We love not being predictable,” shares Chara, backed by murmurs of agreement from his bandmates. “We love collaborations and we love the idea of doing collaborations.” Occasionally these things meet, with Fontaines D.C.’s Grian Chatten delivering an unruffled chorus on the deliberately sedate “Better Way to Live” or Lankum’s Radie Peat lending her voice to the almost mystical opener “3cag.” It’s a benefit of hip-hop, Bap shares, discussing the ways the genre lends itself to experimentation between styles and sounds. After all, Kneecap boldly refuse to be boxed in, a sentiment echoed in their evolving musical expression. While rooted in local culture, this hip-hop trio's music resonates with universal themes of resistance, identity, and revelry, appealing well beyond the borders of the North of Ireland. This is a band that taps into a universal desire to say ‘fuck it’ and have a party.

PHOTO CREDIT: Sophie Barloc

As they reminisce on their journey, Próvaí shifts to their upcoming film, a self-titled semi-fictional biopic releasing later this year. "Flying over to Sundance unexpectedly?! I mean, we never expected a big premiere in the middle of America. Having people come up to you in the middle of Utah. Half Mormons, half Normans,” he finishes with a titter. “We started writing the script in 2019 with Rich [Peppiatt, co-writer and director],” recalls Bap. “It was great fun to sit and have a crate of 20 Guinness and write.” Próvaí adds with a laugh: “It was great until, like, page 40 when the drink kicks in.” This prompts more laughter from the trio, as they excitedly talk over each other, affectionately recounting their raucous writing sessions. “The script was beautifully written for ages, then just terrible after that,” finishes Bap, chuckling.

At their core, Kneecap are storytellers. While the band kept their screenwriting and musical storytelling separate, they do recognise a similar desire to create a world through Fine Art, itself a concept album set entirely inside the fictional raucous Irish pub “The Rutz”. “It kind of incorporates every walk of life,” Bap muses. “One minute someone’s going to be singing an Irish folk song – and if someone’s singing an Irish folk song you have to be very very quiet or else you’ll be shunned – and the next minute you’re going into a cubicle and there’s six fellas taking coke, so it’s the ups and downs of the pub”. Próvaí continues: “It matters that oral tradition in Ireland, going back centuries of storytelling, was passed down by mouth. Whenever you’re in a setting like a pub, you hear all the stories from the local community and it all ties in”.

Apologies if there is crossover between the interviews at all. I was particularly struck by one from The Guardian from February. Interviewed by Miranda Sawyer, she noted how KNEECAP’s riotous music was uniting young people in Northern Ireland and, in the process, reviving the Irish language. This was before the release of the KNEECAP film. It has been such a busy and important year for the band. I was sort of surprised that Fine Art was not shortlisted for the Mercury Prize. Maybe it missed the cutoff. You know that this album will scoop plenty of prizes and honours:

“Though they’ve been bubbling under for quite a while, this year Kneecap are kicking into a higher gear. (And yes, their name is a cheeky reference to paramilitary punishment.) There’s the forthcoming album, a tour of the US and Canada, a main-stage appearance at Reading and Leeds festivals and – the thing that will catapult them to much bigger renown – their excellent, harum scarum, semi-autobiographical film, Kneecap. The band all play heightened, cartoon versions of themselves to tell a heightened, cartoon version of their story, with a Trainspotting-cum-8-Mile feel. It won the audience award at this year’s Sundance film festival.

The band returned home from Sundance before the award was announced, but they’d already made quite the impression. Not only with the film – described by the festival as “a wild, ketamine-laced ride from start to finish, punctuated by songs, touches of animation, and voiceover narration by Óg Ó hAnnaidh” – but with their stunts. They brought a PSNI (Northern Ireland police force) Land Rover with them, and found a place called Provo to have their picture taken with it. “It ended up that we were on the front of all the magazines, because of that jeep,” says Mo Chara.

The hipster Americans might not quite have got the significance of an Irish-language band driving round in a PSNI car, nor indeed of Provo (a genuine Utah city, but also Irish slang for a member of the Provisional IRA), but they got the joke. Like Eminem, Kneecap’s humour is the key to their success. Their wit and eloquence shine through everything they do. There’s a great joe.co.uk interview about “stupid questions you shouldn’t ask Irish people”. After a beautifully argued section from Mo Chara, about how the British will only be able to deal with their colonial history if they tackle it as openly as the Germans did after the second world war, he says: “But the Brits just wanna hide their past, because they feel too guilty,” and makes a fists-to-the-eyes cry-baby face.

Through their very existence, Kneecap are often seen as political, not only by unionists in Ireland’s North, but by the UK government (Kemi Badenoch’s Department for Business and Trade recently intervened to stop them receiving an arts grant, of which, more later). Their songs have been banned by RTE for their copious and celebratory drug references, and for calling the PSNI the RUC (the pre-peace police force). They’ve been escorted from their own concert by security for chanting revolutionary slogans; they’ve got a song called Get Your Brits Out, about a (hypothetical) wild night out with the DUP’s Arlene Foster, Jeffrey Donaldson and Christopher Stalford (“Christy” in the song); another called Fenian Cunts, about Mo Chara having sex with a Protestant (“you can call me King Billy if you want”); and a skit about the IRA coming down hard on drug takers. They’re post-Good Friday agreement bad boys, taking out every old authority figure without fear: “We don’t discriminate who we piss off.”

In 2019 they advertised their Farewell to the Union tour of England and Scotland with a cartoon of Arlene Foster and Boris Johnson strapped to a rocket atop a bonfire. And in 2022, before playing at West Belfast’s Féile An Phobail arts festival, they unveiled a wall mural of a PSNI jeep, also on fire. “They get more upset about a mural of a jeep on fire than they do about a real jeep on fire,” says Mo Chara. “The last time I saw a real jeep on fire was in the [unionist area] Shankill,” says Móglaí Bap. “That’s the truth!”

Though it’s their establishment baiting that makes headlines, far more fundamental to the band’s soul and mission is the fact that all three are Irish speakers (Irish is Móglaí Bap’s first language). This might seem unprovocative to anyone outside Belfast, but official recognition of the Irish language was one of the reasons why the Northern Ireland Assembly was suspended in 2022 (the DUP opposed the Identity and Language Act, which gave Irish a legal status equal to English). The act was eventually passed in late 2022 and the campaign to have the language recognised is a storyline in the film. Kneecap started rapping in Irish to show that it’s a living language that can describe not only the traditional Irish smell of turf on a fire but what’s going on in real life now, from sex to drugs to silly jokes about drinking Buckfast.

And beside all of this, to most of their young fans Kneecap are simply a great band: funny, wild, a brilliant live act, a craic. As one YouTube commenter says: “I do not understand a word they’re saying, but I do understand that this is an absolute banger.” The best rap comes from a living culture, and Kneecap’s is working-class Belfast. They’re self-proclaimed “lowlife scum”.

As you might be able to tell, drugs play quite a part in Kneecap’s world. They invented Irish words for them, because the language didn’t have them. “Snaois” is coke, “capaillín” is ketamine. Tattooed across Móglaí Bap’s chest is 3CAG, the title of their 2018 album. It stands for “3 chonsan agus guta”, the Irish for “three consonants and a vowel”, meaning MDMA. Mo Chara and Móglaí Bap started doing this while hanging out in their teens. Later, they had a squat for a while together and ran events. Everyone would go out until 2am, then pile back and bring out instruments and play Irish music, dancing till 6am. “MDMA and Guinness,” says Mo Chara. Rave, rebel songs and great tunes, all still central to what Kneecap are about.

“Kneecap was born of the need to represent that identity,” says Móglaí Bap. “[We were part of] this weird first group of young people in an urban setting in Belfast to really speak Irish together socially… sharing the words and the youth culture, and taking recreational drugs, and all that melded together.”

And using their own language to express what they want. Móglaí Bap set up an Irish-language festival – it’s how he and Mo Chara first met Próvaí, who came to speak – and he wrote a play in Irish about a young man being addicted to gambling, which he was for a while. “It’s about language and culture,” says Móglaí Bap. “There’s no point in having a united Ireland if it’s just about economics”.

Prior to getting to some reviews for Fine Art, there is one more interview that I want to get to. You should check out other interview with them. DIY featured KNEECAP in March. The trio explained how they want to unite people through their gigs and music. How language should not be a barrier at all:

“The record unleashes several killer collaborations, with Lankum, Fontaines DC’s Grian Chatten and Jelani Blackman among the many guests. “We wanted to show people that a group who rap predominantly in Irish can collab with a Black fellow from London and it works,” Mo explains. “We’re both from backgrounds that have been downtrodden for a long time. Also, Jelani is fucking incredible; he’s criminally underrated.”

After their access to arts funding was blocked by the UK's Business Secretary, we spoke to Belfast trio Kneecap about the significance of financial support for artists, freedom of speech, and what happens next.

The band will also embark on a North American tour and are due at big British festivals such as Reading & Leeds in the summer. “It’s an opportunity for us to inspire people and show them that the language isn’t a barrier,” says Móglaí. “You don’t even think about the Irish language when you’re going to our gigs – that’s why it’s amazing that we’re on the main stage of Leeds.”

Earlier this year at Sundance Film Festival, Sony Pictures bought the rights to Kneecap’s self-titled fictionalised biopic. With an as-yet-unannounced general release date, it’s the highest-budget Irish language film ever made and is every bit as bonkers as you’d expect. Though large parts are not, some scenes in the film are true: the band did perform their first gig full of their beloved 3CAG, and Próvaí did get fired as an Irish teacher for an on-stage photo of his bare arse, ‘BRITS OUT’ painted on each cheek.

Other narratives diverge from the band’s lives, but reflect contemporary issues in their world. A brooding Michael Fassbender plays Móglaí’s fictional father, a hardened IRA terrorist who fakes his own death. “Half the kids in my class, their parents were in the IRA,” says Móglaí. “I’m sure they suffered quite an amount when your parents are involved because it causes a lot of troubles and mental health issues. That PTSD is intergenerational.”

Unexpectedly, Kneecap have recently entered their most audacious act yet by suing the British government. Originally approved for a £15,000 grant under the Music Export Growth Scheme (which is jointly funded by the industry and government), it was overruled by the Tories at the last minute, claiming they didn’t want to give taxpayers’ money “to people that oppose the United Kingdom itself”. Kneecap have now legally challenged them for the “unlawful” decision. “I was loving it,” Mo declares. “Bringing the Tory government to court? You can’t put a price on that for PR.”

It’s a pivotal point in the story of both Kneecap and Northern Ireland. Just weeks ago, the Northern Ireland Assembly was finally restored after two years out of action, and the country gained its first ever nationalist First Minister, Michelle O’Neill. It’s one step closer to Kneecap’s vision of a better future for everyone. “People who went to private schools in London shouldn’t be making decisions based on young people’s lives on a completely different island with a completely different understanding of reality,” says Mo. “You’ve had enough of a chance at it, and you failed miserably. It’s time for an alternative.”

Kneecap are some of the most entertaining, provocative and savvy musicians around, and they’re determined to expose as many people as they can to their culture. It’s a cause close to their hearts, but at the end of the day, the rappers also just want to kick up their heels and enjoy the ride. “It’s time enough now that we can all take a step back and joke about it,” says Mo. “It’s been so serious here for so long that we wanted to do that with our music and have a fucking comedic look on it. We all know how to take a joke, we know how to toe the line. We’ll just keep doing what we do”.

Prior to wrapping up, it is worth getting to a couple of the (many) positive reviews for the simply brilliant Fine Art. I want to start off with a five-star salute from NME. I would be very surprised if Fine Art is not named album of the year by many sources! I have passed through it a couple of times and have been blown away. If you have not discovered the group then I would suggest you get involved now. They are still on the rise, but it is only a matter of time before they are festival headliners:

“Móglaí Bap and Mo Chara rap over DJ Próvaí’s intoxicating beats without ever losing your attention. Skipping between English and Irish, language is no barrier to a good time. Opener ‘3CAG’ (which stands for “3 chonsan agus guta”, Irish for “three consonants and a vowel”, that’s MDMA, kids) features Lankum’s Radie Peat to deliver a modern spin on soulful Irish folk before Kneecap tell you exactly who they are on the title track. Named after their two-word response to the media frenzy that followed their 2022 unveiling of a hometown mural that showed a Police Service of Northern Ireland jeep on fire, they fill in on the headlines from their favourite place, “in a dimly-lit shit run-down pub… seeing how high I can get on government funds”.

Between the skits and the bants, there are highs: the feral rush of cutting loose and buying a packet on payday on ‘I’m Flush’, the sweet R&B romance of ‘Love Making’, the trash meets tradition of ‘Drug Dealin Pagans’. But, as they spit on the profound ‘A Better Way To Live’ featuring Fontaines D.C.’s Grian Chatten, that’s only “the upside of the seesaw”. You gotta come down, too.

‘Sick In The Head’ points out how drugs and booze are ultimately cheaper than therapy (“I’m too far gone when it comes to mental health, rather be sick in the head with a little bit of wealth”). Tthe bittersweet ‘Way Too Much’ speaks of weighing up the release vs the aftermath, and ‘Rhino Ket’ is a nightmare race to the depths (“I can’t hold up my head, this shit puts rhinos to bed”). This is the poetry on the cubicle wall: sometimes funny, sometimes sad, sometimes aggravating, but it’s got your attention.

“This wall was built years ago to stop the Protestants on this side fighting with the Catholics on the other,” comes a quote from the ‘90s documentary Dancing On Narrow Ground on the clubby ‘Parful’, telling the story of how drugs and dancing helped bring some temporary peace in Ulster. “But every Saturday night, hundreds of people go out, just go out clubbing and forget about the divides between each other”. An ode to the abandon and unity that come from chain-smoking with your mates and getting lost in the rave, ‘Parful’ perhaps best captures ‘Fine Art’ and the spirit of Kneecap.

In the dark of the night out, the moment is all that matters and the rave will set you free. To shout that in a ‘dying’ language on a record that couldn’t sound any more alive? That’s power – and Kneecap have it”.

I am going to end with a review from Still Listening Magazine. It is interesting reading the various takes on Fine Art. What various people take away from one of the most important albums of this year. It is a mesmeric and unforgettable listen. I do think we should pay attention to the music coming from Northern Ireland. Whilst bands from the Republic of Ireland such as Fontaines D.C. are getting massive acclaim, do we spend that much time on Northern Ireland?! KNEECAP are putting the country back at the forefront:

“In their own words, KNEECAP basically started making music for the craic, releasing C.E.A.R.T.A. (Irish for “rights”) in 2017 without really expecting it to go anywhere. Local virality, raucous gigs, cult following, Tory condemnation, and an Audience Award at Sundance followed. Now, 7 years later, “Fine Art” has arrived. This is the Irish rap group’s sophomore record, following 2018’s “3cag”, the record is a considerable step up from any of their previous releases, with increased production value and more thematic cohesion while retaining the punk energy which, essentially, defines the group.

Told loosely through the story of a night out in Belfast, the album carries us through some meta-commentary, some anecdotal storytelling, and a dedication to the role of the rave scene in cross-community relations in the North of Ireland, all while looking introspectively at their use of recreational drugs.

Sonically, the record largely blends hip-hop (roughly half in Irish and half in English) with a variety of EDM genres, including house and rave. The first third of the album sees KNEECAP employ their trademark aggression and energy, epitomised by “I bhFiacha Linne”, which basically serves as roughly 3 minutes of threats towards anyone who owes Móglaí Bap and Mo Chara any money. From here, there is a shift towards some more conventional hip-hop, with singles “Better Way to Live” and “Sick in the Head”, which look at the effects of generational trauma on their drinking habits and mental health. Towards the end of the album, “Parful” and “Rhino Ket” then bring the mood back up, rave influencing the sound and the lyrics of these tracks.

Another notable factor in “Fine Art” is the interludes. I think it’s really easy for interludes to be used in a way which can detract from the momentum of an album, they can often fee a little intrusive. However, on this album, the result is quite the opposite. They’re short and sweet, help to tie the narrative together, and allow KNEECAP to showcase their sense of humour.

For me, “Harrow Road” is the strongest track on the record, which follows the only direct jab towards us Brits in “KNEECAP Chaps” (fans of “Get Your Brits Out” may be disappointed by this album). “Harrow Road” tells the story of Móglaí Bap getting lost in London after being dropped off in Wembley rather than on Harrow Road by a taxi driver. There’s a surprising amount of affection in this song, which I think also includes some of KNEECAP’s best flows, particularly from Mo Chara.

There is still room for improvement from this album though. While the blend of English and Irish makes for some unique and cleverly utilised rhymes, I think there are some lines which seem a little clumsy, possibly as a result of this record being written in full in a matter of weeks. I think this sticks out in the hooks for “I bhFiacha Linne” and “Sick in the Head”, where I think the line “I'm too far gone when it comes to mental health” is the worst example on the record. Moreover, I think it would be interesting to hear some slightly darker, possibly more industrial production on a KNEECAP. While pretty much all of these beats undoubtedly go hard, they do tow the line with being a little safe.

“Fine Art” is a real statement of intent as a record. Its energy is infectious, and I have found it really easy to obsess over basically every track on the album, which comes in part from the surprising amount of lyrical depth. Compared to their work in the late 2010s, this release is much more mature and confident, and I hope that they continue this upward trajectory”.

Whilst not a brand new band, I do think KNEECAP should be on everyone’s radar. Perhaps there are a few people who do not know about them. You can well see this band going from strength to strength to world domination! Maybe not as known and revered across Europe and the U.S. as they are in the U.K. that will all soon change! KNEECAP demand your attention, so ignore them…

AT your peril.

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Follow Kneecap

PHOTO CREDIT: Hannah McCallum/The Observer

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FEATURE: Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Thirty-Nine: After The Dreaming’s Release, a Chance for Refresh and Rest

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Thirty-Nine

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1983/PHOTO CREDIT: Brian Griffin

After The Dreaming’s Release, a Chance for Refresh and Rest

_________

ONE has to sympathise with Kate Bush…

as the majority of her career – well, up until 1993’s The Red Shoes – was defined by a work schedule that would burn most people out! Even between 1985’s Hounds of Love and 1989’s The Sensual World, she was packing a lot into that time. I want to focus on Hounds of Love, as it turns thirty-nine on 16th September. I have written about this before, but the period between Kate Bush completing 1982’s The Dreaming and starting work on Hounds of Love was one where she got back a sense of calm and stability. Of course, she was working for some of this time. The Dreaming was released in September 1982. Three years later, she would release her next album. The Dreaming was a hard album to make in a lot of ways. Such an intense period of creativity and production, Bush was clearly burned out an exhausted once it was completed. There was not a tonne of promotion, though she did keep busy during 1982 and there was a lot of travel and energy expended. The period after that was quite pivotal in regards how she approached her next album. Before getting to that, this website lays out what Kate Bush’s 1982 was like:

“March 1982

Kate finishes the overdubs and goes into the final mixing of the album. This session lasts two months.

April 1982

Kate's projected book Leaving My Tracks is shelved until early 1983.

The album's release date is put back to September for marketing reasons.

May 1982

The Dreaming album is completed, after a combined work period of more than sixteen months. Kate goes off to Jamaica for a holiday.

June 1982

Kate does some session work for Zaine Griff, who with her had attended Lindsay Kemp's mime classes back in 1976. She does backing vocals on a track dedicated to Kemp, called Flowers.

The release of the single The Dreaming is delayed.

The first issue of Homeground is prepared. 25 copies are run off on an office photocopier.

July 21, 1982

At 48 hours' notice Kate is asked to take David Bowie's place in a Royal Rock Gala before HRH The Prince of Wales in aid of The Prince's Trust. She performs Wedding List live, backed by Pete Townsend and Midge Ure on guitars, Mick Karn on bass, Gary Brooker on keyboards and Phil Collins on drums.

"The best moment by far was Kate Bush's number, a storming success..." (Sunie, Record Mirror)

July 27, 1982

The single The Dreaming is finally released, to excellent music press reviews saluting Kate's creative courage. The single is stifled, however, by the radio producers and presenters, particularly on BBC Radio 1, who will not play it. The plans for a twelve-inch version are aborted.

August 1982

Despite no daytime airplay on Radio 1, The Dreaming enters the singles chart, but peaks at number 48.

September 10, 1982

Kate appears live at a special Radio 1 Roadshow from Covent Garden Piazza to be interviewed briefly about her new album.

September 13, 1982

The album The Dreaming is released. Written, arranged and produced by Kate around the rhythm box and the Fairlight CMI. The radio programmers and most of the British reviewers are mystified. The album demands more of them than they can give.

September 14, 1982

Kate makes a personal appearance at the Virgin Megastore in London's Oxford Street. The queue again exceeds 100 yards in length.

Kate proceeds by train to Manchester, using a specially cleared goods car to rehearse for a video for the next single. In Manchester Kate records an interview for the BBC TV programme The Old Grey Whistle Test for use on the 17th, when the video for The Dreaming single is shown for the first time on British TV.

September 21, 1982

Kate makes an appearance on the commercial TV programme Razzmatazz, performing There Goes a Tenner, which is to be the next single.

The album enters the charts at number 3.

Kate goes on to Europe to promote the new album. In Munich she performs The Dreaming single [on Na Sowas -- the so-called "giant iguana" version] and is presented with a Gold Record for German sales of Never For Ever during the same television appearance.

The next stop is Milan, where Kate gives the first of four performances of The Dreaming single [on the Italian television programmes Happy Magic, Zim Zum Zam, Riva del Garda, and Disco-Ring.

[She may also have visited Spain during this trip, but I have no confirmation.]

October 1, 1982

Kate appears on the BBC TV programme Saturday Superstore to be interviewed about the new album.

Kate makes personal appearances in Glasgow, Newcastle and Birmingham. The album goes Gold.

October 8, 1982

While in Birmingham, Kate records an appearance on the BBC TV programme Pebble Mill at One, being interviewed by Paul Gambaccini about the new album. The interview is screened on October 29th, and part of the video for There Goes a Tenner is shown; the only time that this video is aired on British TV.

Kate is off again to France for more TV promotion of the album [including a lip-synch performance of Suspended in Gaffa, which is released as a single in Europe; and an in-depth interview for French TV station France-Inter]

November 1982

Kate is in Germany promoting album and single. [She gives a lip-synch performance of Suspended in Gaffa, known as the "puppets" or "marionettes" version]”.

You can see that it was a very busy time! Not a lot of time for rest and any form of recovery. After putting everything into The Dreaming, something had to change. One of the reasons why Hounds of Love is such a grand, ambitious, warm and accomplished album is because Kate Bush had time to recharge. Not to overstate and be too dramatic. Kate Bush was focused and this incredible producer in the studio. Outside of it, one wonders whether she had any sort of life at all. During The Dreaming, she would exist on takeaways for months. Not spending time to cook and relax, her time was spent getting quick meals in and not spending enough time unwinding. So professional and focused in the studio, it would have been so hard for her to relax and shift after a long day (and night) of recording. When she visited Jamaica in 1982, she found the silence and peace there deafening! That was in June. This verdant paradise, it was a real culture shock. In a relationship with Del Palmer, I can only imagine how difficult it was at times. They were with each other all of the time, so there would have been moments of tension and fallout. Supporting one another, I guess their relationship at that time was more professional than it was romantic. Bush not allowing herself much time for enjoying a physical relationship. Bush really did go all-out with promotion. She was becoming so involved with music videos too. Conceiving and co-directing The Dreaming’s title track video – her first solo direction was for Hounds of Love’s title track -, she balanced all this with interviews around the world. I will come to Hounds of Love very soon. It is worth noting how there was this speculation around Kate Bush. Rumours of weight gain and a drug habit in the press. If an artist was out of the public eye for a short time, there was this rumour mill! Kate Bush was not immune.

It is important to look at the lead-up to Hounds of Love’s recording and what was happening in Kate Bush’s life. 1982 and 1983 were crucial. The move to the countryside and her childhood home meant that she could return to the past. A simpler period. She knew that something had to change. Not only did she need a healthy period of creativity and recording. Recording out of different studios around London was expensive and gruelling. Financially able to build her own studio at her family home, Bush had this incredible period where she was writing, dancing and singing. A healthier diet, the influence and benefit of her family and a rural backdrop worked wonders. Bush wrote to her fan club in the summer of 1983 and noted how the year was like 1976. Aged seventeen/eighteen, that would have been when Bush was recording demos and only a year from entering the studio to record her debut studio album, The Kick Inside. 1983 was a year where she returned to East Wickham Farm and would write all night. There was, as Graeme Thomson notes in his book, Under the Ivy: The Life & Music of Kate Bush, similarities between Kate Bush and Peter Gabriel. He built his own studio at Ashcombe House. He and Bush worked on their fifth studio albums at more or less the same time. The year Hounds of Love was released was when Gabriel was working on So. Both masterpieces and career highs. It is no coincidence that autonomy and a bespoke studio was responsible for this amazing creativity and feeling of freedom! In the barn at the farm at East Wickham, Bush was returning to a place where she played the organ after school and would later work through Lionheart (her second studio album released in 1978) with the KT Bush Band. Designing the studio and with a blueprint in mind her father, Dr. Bush, also assisted with various parts of the studio. A hands-on approach that would have been a thrill. I don’t know if any photos exist of the studio being built!

One of the most shocking results of The Dreaming’s recording and release is that EMI almost returned it. There is a clause in many record contracts that a label can turn an album away or refuse to release it. They were close to doing that with The Dreaming! It is great that there was such a quick return and new lease of inspiration for Kate Bush. Bush played new tracks to Paul Hardiman (engineer) on 6th October, 1983. He engineered the first stages of the album. Impressed by what Kate Bush had created and what she and Del Palmer were putting together. From November 1983, sessions began for Hounds of Love. That whole year was a really important one. The building of the home studio and the way Bush was writing in a new way. A familiar environment gave her the strength and comfort to create in a far less stressful and constrained way. In terms of the recording for Hounds of Love, there were not the pressures of studio bills. Everything being judged on cost rather than merit. The fact Bush might have felt stressed trying to do so much in a short time so that she did not go too far over budget. Thirty-nine years ago, Bush’s most successful album came out. I will discuss the songs and the brilliance of the album in the next feature. What I did want to start with is talking about the background. How she was working on The Dreaming and promoted it quite a bit. Maybe less intense than years past, but she was working hard to put The Dreaming out there. The impact that this had on her. 1983 was a year where so much personal development occurred. In terms of her diet, working practice and routine. It was a much more warm and safe space. A different process that resulted in a very different album. I guess there was some concession to EMI and their need for something more commercial or accessible. Little did the label know what she was working on in 1983 and soon…

WHAT she would put into the world.

FEATURE: From Bad Seeds Grow Beautiful Blooms: Has Any Other Artist Achieved the Same Consistency as the Nick Cave-Led Band?

FEATURE:

 

 

From Bad Seeds Grow Beautiful Blooms

Has Any Other Artist Achieved the Same Consistency as the Nick Cave-Led Band?

_________

SOMETHING occurred to me…

IN THIS PHOTO: Bruce Springsteen photographed in July 2023/PHOTO CREDIT: Sergione Infuso/Corbis via Getty Images

when I saw a review for Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds’ new album, Wild God. Of course, when we look at reviews, we have to understand they are subjective. There are albums that get all positive reviews so you have to trust that wisdom of crowds. The collective acclaim. There are some that get mixed reviews. When it comes to Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds’ career, they have been going since 1984. That was when their debut album, From Her to Eternity, came out. Wild God comes out on 30th August. It is the band’s eighteenth album. Not only is that amount of albums impressive on its own. It is the consistency which is particularly stunning. Even if you have this niche sound and hit gold at the start, there is no guarantee that critics will love the same sound further down the line. Those artists that get acclaim consistently through the years always reinvent and move forward. There are not that many acts who have released eighteen albums. Any that do have a few blips. It is only natural. Think about an artist like Paul McCartney and his solo career. He has released eighteen studio albums. There have been those that received mixed reviews. Maybe his highs are better and more important than Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’. And he was a Beatle! asked on Twitter who could match the band and I got a suggestion of Pet Shop Boys. At fifteen albums, they have released fewer than Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and their Metacritic average – a collection of reviews averaged to get a score out of 100 – is a bit lower. I would imagine Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds to be in the 80s at least. Someone else suggests Bruce Springsteen as a challenger. Twenty-one albums in, there have been a lot of classics. Maybe three of his albums have not scored brilliant reviews. Another few have got mostly acclaim and a few mixed. If we add it all together, then he might be the closest to matching Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ scores/average - though you feel Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds will enjoy a better run in the next five or ten years.

There are a lot of questions and considerations. As I say, reviews are subjective. I am not a big Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds fan, and I would say I prefer the body of work from Madonna, Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, Kate Bush – obviously – and other artists who have had long careers and released multiple albums. One has to respect a career without a bad album. One might say that the band has a brief period where they were not at their best. Think about 2001’s No More Shall We Pass and its follow-up, Nocturama. Neither of them bad albums, though the reviews were a little less than universally positive. Even so, the band followed up with 2004’s Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus. That was a triumphant return to form. Some artists would tire and might have had this longer spell of average work. Think about all the greats who have spanned multiple decades and it always happens. There is no telling how long Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds will endure I suspect quite a few more years with the potential for multiple albums. I want to come to that review from The Guardian of Wild God and some things that were observed:

“The album’s songs don’t stint on darkness – pain, suffering and death all feature, including the passing of Cave’s former collaborator and partner Anita Lane – but suggest that life can still provide transcendent euphoria despite it all. The song about Lane is called O Wow O Wow (How Wonderful She Is): it’s gorgeously melodic, decorated with abstract smears of vocoder and a telephone recording of Lane giggling as she recalls their dissolute past, and deals in reverie rather than mourning. On Frogs, Cave walks home from church, pausing to look at a frog in the gutter: “leaping to God, amazed of love, amazed of pain, amazed to be back in the water again.” Even if it doesn’t get far, the song seems to suggest, that’s not the point: the point is to keep leaping.

The music follows suit. Cave has reconvened the Bad Seeds – who seemed a little surplus to requirements among Ghosteen’s beatless drifts and who didn’t appear at all on Carnage, an album credited to Cave and Ellis alone. Wild God deftly melds the meditative, flowing sound of its immediate predecessors with the band’s trademark muscularity (one of the enduring mysteries of Cave’s career is how a band that’s seen something like 23 different musicians pass through its ranks over the years, always sounds like the Bad Seeds regardless). The result is a set of songs that feel simultaneously airy and teeming, not least with a preponderance of glowing melodies. They frequently surge into vast, ecstatic exhalations – there’s a fantastic moment near the end of Song of the Lake, where Thomas Wydler’s drums, which have previously moved things along at a stately, measured pace, suddenly burst into a series of gleeful, clattering rolls. Or the mood flips completely: Conversion initially sounds haunted and stark, before exploding into life midway through in a mass of voices singing and chanting, Cave’s extemporised vocal sounding increasingly rapturous over the top.

The title track, meanwhile, is similarly joyful, although lyrically oblique. One way you could read it is as a sardonic self-portrait, rock’s former Prince of Darkness in his late 60s (“It was rape and pillage in the retirement village”), grappling with the dramatic shift in perception that Cave has undergone over the last decade as it builds to an explosive, cathartic climax, bolstered by choir and orchestra. Said climax seems to reaffirm his faith in the transformative power of music and communality: “If you’re feeling lonely and if you’re feeling blue, and if you just don’t know what to do,” he cries, “bring your spirit down!”

If that’s indeed what that song is saying, the point is underlined by the album as a whole. Packed with remarkable songs, its mood of what you might call radical optimism is potent and contagious. You leave it feeling better than you did previously: an improving experience, in the best sense of the phrase”.

Rather than this being a casual observation of such a positive review for a band who keep on getting them, I have been thinking about that sense of longevity and what makes a band like Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds an exception to a rule. What is it about their songwriting and albums that means they continue to wow critics. It is not a case of them not selling. They are a massive commercial success too. They bring in new fans but hang on to their existing ones. Each album offers something new. There is definitely something in their discography that is rare. Almost unique. I am trying to think of another artist who has released eighteen or more albums and maybe only had two of them score anything less than universal acclaim. It is hard to think of anyone else. Is it possible in a modern music scene to establish that sort of acclaim and solidity?! To have your albums constantly reach new levels of excellence. I guess some might say Taylor Swift could match that. She is in her thirties still and her debut album came out in 2006. A career half as long as a band like Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, she could go for a couple more decades and achieve something almost impossible. I don’t think that even a modern megastar like Swift could keep that record. That run of wonderful albums. Maybe a band like Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds have a sound that is distinctly away from the mainstream. It is not beyond the realms of plausibility that an artist could build a charge and really stands alongside Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. In a modern climate – with so much competition and many artists taking big risks and sometimes falling short -, is there any way we could see this golden run?! I am not sure. I was reflecting on the latest work from Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and how it will like scoop many more five-star reviews. Their past three or four albums definitely have. What next for them?! Probably sticking close to the sound of Wild God, I do feel they are going to keep on grabbing the hearts of critics. Forty years after their debut and eighteen albums-deep, this is a body of work almost unmatched in music history. It is exciting what comes next for…

THE Australian legends.

FEATURE: Kate Bush’s Never for Ever at Forty-Four: Celebrating a Record-Setting Album

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush’s Never for Ever at Forty-Four

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush photographed attending the British Rock and Pop Awards in February 1980/PHOTO CREDIT: Syndication/Mirrorpix/Getty Images

Celebrating a Record-Setting Album

_________

IT is not often now…

where you will get artists setting records for an album’s achievements. In terms of the sales and weeks at number one. You feel that everything that could happen regarding setting records has already been done. Kate Bush has set a few in her time. In 2014, Bush became the first woman to have eight of her albums in the Official Albums Chart at the same time. That was after the success of Before the Dawn. Take it back to 1978 when she became the first U.K. female artist to have a number one single with a self-written song. Someone whose sheer originality, talent and timeless appeal and popularity means that you can not bet against Bush setting another record. It is no surprise that there was this momentum after Wuthering Heights went to number one. Her first two albums, 1978’s The Kick Inside and Lionheart, both went into the top ten of the U.K. album chart. Maybe it was a matter of time before Kate Bush got a number one album (I am referring to the U.K., as The Kick Inside reached number one in a couple of nations). She reached number one in 1985 with Hounds of Love. The same in 1986 with The Whole Story (her greatest hits collection). The Sensual World, The Red Shoes, and Director’s Cut reached number two. All of her studio albums have reached the top ten albums charts here. If some albums have not got huge critical acclaim or have been slightly overlooked, that is not the case when it comes to the public. As far as EMI were concerned, like any record label, it is sales and commercial success that means the most. They are not necessarily looking at reviews and seeing those as a mark of success and achievement. All the same, there was something amiss after the release of Never for Ever on 8th September 1980.

I maintain Bush’s third studio album is her most underrated. It is one of her best. Contemporary reviews were a mixture of positive and some more reserved or less positive takes. To be fair, most of the reviews were encouraging. That was a step up from the more muted response to Lionheart. It was clear Kate Bush was inspired keen to move her sound on. Never for Ever has familiar strands and sounds, yet it was a bigger and more ambitious album compared to her first two. A wider sound and lyrical palette. If there was this exhaustion after Never for Ever’s release that carried into The Dreaming, there was probably a more positive energy going from The Tour of Life into Never for Ever. Even though Bush was tired, there was that energy and desire to create an album following time on the road. You can hear the passion and inspiration through the album. The promotion for Never for Ever was fairly intense. Over the following week after its release, Kate Bush undertook a record signing tour of the U.K. One of the most notable examples of the acclaim and popularity she had from fans was at Oxford Street, London. There were massive queues of fans waiting to get the album signed. Bush then visited Europe to promote Never for Ever. The album entered the U.K. album chart on 20th September, 1980. It reached number one. It held that position for only a week, yet it was in the chart for a long time. It was the first ever album by a British female solo artist to top the U.K. album chart, as well as being the first album by any female solo artist to enter the chart at number one. In 1980, that seems extraordinary!

Kate Bush had come from a hugely adored and acclaimed tour and into the studio where that momentum continued. Never for Ever reached number one. Setting a record and with this huge fanbase with her, I do think that EMI should have had more faith. Consider the fact they were not keen on Bush’s solo-producing The Dreaming. I don’t think it was concern for her mental health or a feeling she might get buried. I feel there was this doubt around her ability and talent. As she was co-producer – with Jon Kelly – on a number one album, why were there any barriers?! I do feel there was hesitancy from EMI for Bush to produce Hounds of Love as The Dreaming did not perform as commercially well as Never for Ever. It got to number three but did have some mixed reviews. I still think there was some reluctance for EMI to let Bush take on the challenge of The Dreaming. She was still very young, though she had more than proved herself. How much personal care and conversation was there?! EMI wanted Bush to promote Never for Ever as much as possible and take it to as many people as possible. I didn’t hear of any particular reward from EMI following Bush’s record-setting number one album. In terms of a budget and supporting their artist, I do keep thinking it would have been great if EMI celebrated Never for Ever’s success and did show more love to Kate Bush. Perhaps they did. However, I get the feeling that there was not a huge amount of allowance. If they ‘allowed’ Bush to produce The Dreaming, they were still strict about completion time. Released two years after Never for Ever, that feeling that she still needed to produce albums every year. Shouldn’t such a commercial success like Never for Ever have meant Bush was more than a commodity or someone who was making the label money?! It doesn’t sit too easy!

Regardless, we need to recognise the significance of Never for Ever’s success. It sounds like it was a great and productive time. With Bush stepping into the producer role, it was this breakthrough. Kate Bush being recognised as this extraordinary talent. Her first album where she was producer going to number one in the U.K. is impressive! I do feel that this sort of success should have seen EMI doing a bit more. Allowing Bush a bit more time to make an album. Not feeling like Bush was taking too much time. I will wrap up in a minute. The Kate Bush Encyclopedia collated interviews where Bush spoke about Never for Ever. Bush pleased that she was producing and had more control over her own work:

“For me, this was the first LP I’d made that I could sit back and listen to and really appreciate. I’m especially close to Never For Ever. It was the first step I’d taken in really controlling the sounds and being pleased with what was coming back. I was far more involved with the overall production, and so I had a lot more freedom and control, which was very rewarding. Favourite tracks? I guess I’d have to say ‘Breathing’ and ‘The Infant Kiss’.

Women of Rock, 1984

From here on there are big progressive steps. I was starting to take control at this point, making sure I had enough time and getting involved in production.

Love, Trust and Hitler. Tracks (UK), November 1989”.

On 8th September, it will be forty-four years since Never for Ever was released. It was a turning point. From there on, Bush knew that she wanted to produce. The Dreaming was her first solo production, though it is clear that recording Never for Ever was hugely important and had some wonderful moments. It is a brilliant album that contains three of her most successful and strongest singles – Breathing, Babooshka and Army Dreamers.

I think more should be written and said about Never for Ever. The context. Those four months between the end of The Tour of Life and working on the album. The four months after and going into The Dreaming. In fact, Bush started recording The Dreaming the same month Never for Ever was released. That sense of her releasing an album and then almost having to be straight into the studio to follow it. Not really allowed time to chill out and enjoy success. That is something that gets to me. How much of that decision to make another album was Bush’s?! That sense of promoting one album and recording another one was something she faced in 1978. EMI really should have said to Bush to take time out. I would love to have heard conversations after Never for Ever went to number one. Whether it was Kate Bush or EMI that drove the conversation around making an album straight away. Or beginning recording at least! I want to end with a nice segment The Quietus’s feature from 2020. They marked forty years of Never for Ever and opened the feature with these words:

“No one was safe once Kate Bush arrived at Abbey Road, not even the people in the canteen. Sessions on 1980’s Never For Ever were fun but punishingly long, especially when she and her band spent hours playing with their freaky new toy, a Fairlight CMI digital sampler. One day, they smashed all the studio’s crockery and recorded the different timbres of each shattering cup and glass, just so they could play an arpeggio of breaking-shard samples on ‘Babooshka’. It sounded incredible, but not everyone thought the effect justified the means: the kitchen staff were so appalled, writes Graeme Thomson in his fascinating biography Under The Ivy, that Bush apparently grovelled for forgiveness with Belgian chocolates.

Maybe the final confectionery-based detail in that anecdote is too good to be true, just like the apocryphal tale of Bush inviting an excited EMI bigwig to her house to show him what she’d been working on during a long, mysterious hiatus, only to then present him with some freshly baked cakes. What is beyond doubt, though, is how much hard graft went into her third album, and what a huge turning point it proved to be. Despite being overshadowed by what followed, it’s the start of her transformation into a one-of-a-kind auteur, the record that made her later, greater glories possible. Tired of EMI’s conveyor-belt approach to rushing out LPs, Bush assumed more ownership in the studio and changed the way she made music forever. “The whole thing was so satisfying,” she enthused in 1980. “To actually have control of my baby for the first time.” Forty years later, it’s no less significant: Never For Ever isn’t Bush’s best album, but it might well be the most important”.

There is a lot more to explore when it comes to Never for Ever. Its amazing eleven songs. The shift from Bush being produced by someone else to going on tour and heading into the studio to produce. The impact and relevance of her reaching number one. How it set the course for the rest of her career. It was a new phase and chapter. Bush not discarding her first two albums…though there was this feeling that she really had to produce and control her own work. If some see Never for Ever as transition to her peak and mere promise rather than brilliance, I think that Never for Ever is…

STILL an underrated classic.

FEATURE: Kate Bush’s The Dreaming at Forty-Two: Technological Leaps and Invention

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush’s The Dreaming at Forty-Two

Technological Leaps and Invention

_________

I am looking forward to…

 IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1982/PHOTO CREDIT: Steve Rapport

marking the forty-second anniversary of one of Kate Bush’s best albums. On 13th September, 1982, she released The Dreaming. Recorded between September 1980 and May 1982, this was Bush’s most intensely focused period of work to date. Her most ambitious, focused, layered and detailed album, it was her producing solo for the first time. As such, this was Bush’s most personal, committed and revealing album to that point. I love the fact that she had this desire to really put herself into the album. Discovering the Fairlight CMI during recording of Never for Ever, it was very much at the forefront of The Dreaming. Opened to its endless possibilities, I want to go more into this side of the album for the first of a couple of features to mark The Dreaming’s forty-second anniversary. I think that Peter Gabriel’s influence was a big reason why technology and the Fairlight CMI was a big focal point. There was another artist who really opened the floodgates and started the process of The Dreaming’s recording. I shall come to that. First, the Kate Bush Encyclopedia has collated interviews where Bush spoke about The Dreaming:

“Kate about ‘The Dreaming’

After the last album, ‘Never For Ever’, I started writing some new songs. They were very different from anything I’d ever written before – they were much more rhythmic, and in a way, a completely new side to my music. I was using different instruments, and everything was changing; and I felt that really the best thing to do would be to make this album a real departure – make it completely different. And the only way to achieve this was to sever all the links I had had with the older stuff. The main link was engineer Jon Kelly. Everytime I was in the studio Jon was there helping me, so I felt that in order to make the stuff different enough I would have to stop working with Jon. He really wanted to keep working with me, but we discussed it and realised that it was for the best.

‘The Dreaming’. Poppix (UK), Summer 1982

Yes, it’s very important for me to change. In fact, as soon as the songs began to be written, I knew that the album was going to be quite different. I’d hate it, especially now, if my albums became similar, because so much happens to me between each album – my views change quite drastically. What’s nice about this album is that it’s what I’ve always wanted to do. For instance, the Australian thing: well, I wanted to do that on the last album, but there was no time. There are quite a few ideas and things that I’ve had whizzing around in my head that just haven’t been put down. I’ve always wanted to use more traditional influences and instruments, especially the Irish ones. I suppose subconsciously I’ve wanted to do all this for quite some time, but I’ve never really had the time until now.

‘The Dreaming’. Poppix (UK), Summer 1982”.

I can understand the impetus for Kate Bush to focus on a studio album following 1980’s Never for Ever. About four months passed between the release of Never for Ever and her starting work on The Dreaming. It was quite a tough time for Bush. Considering the fact she started working on Never for Ever not long after 1979’s The Tour of Life and the same short period of time between Never for Ever coming out and beginning her fourth album, there was not a huge amount of gas in the tank. That period after Never for Ever was quite empty and unusual. A sort of introverted depression, she would try and sit at the piano to write and nothing would come out. Buying a property in Eltham, London, after Never for Ever’s release, it was a cosy if not luxurious part of London not far from the family home at East Wickham Farm. That combination of being close to the comfort of home but in her own space, it was a sensible base. Her brother Paddy moved in next door. There was family and support around her. Thanks to Graeme Thomson and his book, Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush, for being a guide and inspiration for this feature. Bush installed her own eight-track demo studio in her house. With equipment including a Yamaha CS-80 and piano around her, it was a creative hub. If ideas for Houidini and The Dreaming were developed using Never for Ever, it was Stevie Wonder who helped end a sort of temporary writer’s block. When Kate Bush and Del Palmer saw him perform in September 1980 at Wembley Arena, Bush was awed by his sheer energy and stamina. That electricity inspired her to write Sat in Your Lap.

The Fairlight CMI was pivotal when it came to The Dreaming’s palette. Hiring one from Syco Systems to start, she then invested in her own by the end of The Dreaming. She was not alone when it came to embracing that technology. In the early-1980s, there were a wave of Synth-Pop artists who were melding electronics and keyboards. Technology and synthesisers. This futuristic sound. Something new and exciting. Steve Lillywhite, Peter Gabriel’s producer at the time, and Hugh Padgham, who was an engineer on The Dreaming, knew that the friendship between Gabriel and Bush was strong. They connected and were pulled together during a benefit concert for Bill Duffield during The Tour of Life. Bush featured on Peter Gabriel’s third self-titled album in 1980. Inspired by working at his Townhouse studio space and seeing the technology play there, you can feel how that pushed her during The Dreaming. Bush and Gabriel did try and write a song together, Ibiza, but it was not satisfactory or finished. The consoles, drumming sounds, acoustics and sounds being created at Townhouse piqued Bush’s imagination and interest. It was her own creativity and curiosity that makes The Dreaming so immersive and original. Taking that initial seed and starting point and moving in all directions. It does seem like The Dreaming was an unhappy process. Pushing her music to limits and spending tireless hours searching for all sorts of rare and unusual sounds. If a longer break after The Tour of Life might have benefited her more in terms of energy and mental health, The Dreaming would have been a very different album.

I think it is such an accomplished and stunning album because of the commitment Kate Bush put in. Her songwriting was clearly in a different place. There was fantasy, escape and a sense of the ethereal on Never for Ever. Some harder-hitting songs though, for the most part, there is a lightness and airiness to many of the songs. A higher pitch. The Dreaming is a deeper, denser and harder-hitting album. Percussion very much at the core. Angrier, more propulsive and deeper, you get a sense of Kate Bush using technology to filter a combination of restlessness, post-tour comedown; the need to prove herself as a solo producer and show that she could not be easily defined. Shake off tags ands lazy criticism being levied at her. Showing that she was a serious artist. I do love how she was very much in tune with changes at the time. How the start of the 1980s beckoned in this new technology and sound. At her house in London, it was this moment where Bush was stepping away from home and that comfort and embracing multiple studios. The Dreaming was recorded at Advision, Odyssey, Abbey Road Studios and Townhouse. With the Yamaha CS-80 playing a big part of There Goes a Tenner and the Fairlight CMI being present on nearly every track  - except Pull Out the Pin and Suspended in Gaffa -, this was a turning point. The Dreaming was that transition between her piano-based first two albums, the mix of piano and technology on Never for Ever, and pushing things to new heights on 1985’s Hounds of Love. A whole new world was opened up! Kate Bush’s music so radically different to anything she had produced before. If she felt The Dreaming was an album where it seemed like she went a bit mad, it was still a chart success and gained a lot of critical acclaim – even if its singles were not really successful. The biggest takeaway from The Dreaming is Bush excelling as a producer. In terms of what she created and how she embraced and personalised technology of the time. In terms of its layers, sounds, themes and extraordinary palette, I don’t think that The Dreaming has been equalled. Turning forty-two on 13th September, I wanted to celebrate Kate Bush’s…

MAGNIFICENT fourth studio album.

FEATURE: The Tracks of My Years: My Favourite Singles of 2024 So Far

FEATURE:

 

 

The Tracks of My Years

IN THIS PHOTO: Little Simz/PHOTO CREDIT: Karolina Wielocha

My Favourite Singles of 2024 So Far

_________

I have just put out…

IN THIS PHOTO: Laura Marling/PHOTO CREDIT: Tamsin Topolski

a playlist featuring songs from the best albums by women this year. I wanted to do another ‘best of’ compilation. This one is my favourite singles from this tear so far. Featuring those you know and others you might not, there is this eclectic mix of styles and artists. It has been a really strong and varied year for singles. I suspect that we will get more than our fair share of awesome singles before the year is done. It has been wonderful discovering new artists and their amazing tracks. Also hearing wonderful singles from legends and established artists. Such a rich year for music. To honour that, the playlist below sits them alongside one another. You might have your own views and opinions as to which singles are the best. I might have left some out, so suggestions and additions are always welcome! Here are singles released this year that have lingered…

IN THIS PHOTO: SARA/PHOTO CREDIT: Greta Larosa

LONG in the memory.

FEATURE: The Digital Mixtape: Tracks from the Best Albums By Female Artists of 2024

FEATURE:

 

 

The Digital Mixtape

IN THIS PHOTO: Beyoncé shot for ESSENCE March/April 2024/PHOTO CREDIT: Andre D. Wagner 

Tracks from the Best Albums By Female Artists of 2024

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I have done this a few times…

IN THIS PHOTO: The cover of Beth Gibbons’ album, Lives Outgrown

before, in the sense of compiling a playlist of songs from the best albums by women. I try and do it a couple of times a year. Highlighting the brilliant queens who are releasing the finest albums around. One cannot deny that for years now, the very best albums have been by women! Rather than dividing and labelling – ‘albums by women’ – or giving them their own genre, I wanted to spotlight the simply amazing work out there. The music industry is still hugely slow in creating balance and recognition of women. Right across the board. It is at odds with the hugely proliferation of awesome and original albums by women. This year has been no exception. The quality has been right up there! Maybe not quickly reflected in terms of playlists and festival bookings, one hopes that the kudos and acclaim that these albums have received means all of these artists get their reward and recognition very soon. That women throughout the industry are giving the respect and attention they deserve! There are some real gems in this playlist. Albums from some astonishing artists. Apologies for missing any out at all that should be in there. As we have four months left of the year, I will do another feature in December that looks at all the great albums from women in 2024. Now, as we are bidding farewell to summer, another opportunity to salute the queens. The songs below are from sensational albums…

BY some absolutely brilliant women.

FEATURE: Cross That Line: Segregation and Division in the Music Industry

FEATURE:

 

 

Cross That Line

IN THIS PHOTO: Tinashe

Segregation and Division in the Music Industry

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I often think about the music industry…

PHOTO CREDIT: Penda Kamati/Pexels

and whether it has improved rapidly and markedly as it should. In terms of interaction, battling discrimination and division. Thinking of women in the industry, there is still so much misogyny and sexism. Very slowly moving towards equality. I do hope I live to see a day when women feel safe, accepted and valued in the music industry. Get the opportunities they deserve in terms of equal pay and exposure. Get festival headline slots and as much time on radio playlists across the board. Are not subjected to harassment and abuse. I don’t think as much has been done as possible to tackle that from the government. Even if racism within the industry is not quite as extreme or widespread as it was in years past, it is clear there is still segregation and labelling. Black artists being divided and separated from white artists on playlists and in genres. I have been thinking this after reading a recent interview from Tinashe. Speaking with The Guardian, she was very frank and open about her career. How she had face misogyny and RCA forced her into working with R Kelly and Chris Brown. What a potentially poisonous move that could have been! The real lack of respect and appreciation for Tinashe. Something a lot of women in music have to endure. This very toxic environment. The fact that she was almost made to work with predatory and abusive men. Tinashe also noted how there is this segregation and racial division:

“Despite trying to ignore much of the music industry, Tinashe still has a strong handle on its mechanics, and feels that it wouldn’t know what to do with her – a Black artist looking to make genreless pop, not just R&B or rap – if she debuted today. “There’s still a lot of segregation in the industry,” she says. “When it comes to playlists, award shows, who works on your music, how they promote you, it’s very black and white, literally.”

And Tinashe still feels she’s fighting an uphill battle when it comes to her own career – despite the huge success of Nasty. “In terms of being able to build to a huge place, a real mainstream-machine type role, that still is very much gate-kept,” she says, letting out a withering laugh. “It’s hard to achieve as somebody who isn’t playing in those systems”.

It is very true that, when it comes to artists of colour, they are promoted and marketed very differently. In terms of who they work with too. Tinashe is living proof of that. You still see so many playlists on radio and streaming services where Black artists are compiled together and often separated. Especially when it comes to genre-specific playlists. Maybe unconscious racism, things are very much black and white. Very few Black artists given the same budget and attention as white counterparts. When it comes to the mainstream and getting the sort of focus and hype as other artists, there does seem to be this segregation there. Tinashe has hit on something that has been present in music for decades. If you look at the mainstream today and the artists getting the most attention and spotlight, you can see this division. There are amazing Black artists heralded and supported, though very few pushed to the top levels. So much more of a struggle for them to achieve the same sort of adulation and respect as other artists. Music charts especially have been segregated for so long. I was reading this 2021 articles from The Guardian, where Kelefa Sanneh (author of the book, Major Labels) talked about this more:

“The more a genre evolves and sprawls, the harder it is to define its essence. Disappointingly for anyone who cherishes border-crossing artists such as Sly Stone, Prince and the Specials, Sanneh shows that these distinctions usually come down to race: country and rock are deemed to be whatever white people like, while hip-hop and R&B are whatever Black people enjoy. Two years ago, there was furious debate about Billboard’s decision to remove Lil Nas X’s country-trap smash from its country chart because it lacked “enough elements of today’s country music in its current version”. Lil Nas X responded: “A black guy who raps comes along, and he’s on top of the country chart, it’s like, ‘What the fuck?’”

“Our music charts are still kind of segregated because our country is still kind of segregated,” Sanneh says. “There are upsides and downsides to this. In America, Black people are 12% of the population so if every genre was diverse in a way that reflected the population of the country, Black people would be a small minority of listeners in every genre. It’s easy to say that country music should be diversified but it’s harder when you look at R&B.”

Sanneh is adept at disrupting simple binaries; his typical argument is a supple chain of “but…”. He says: “It’s important to me not to reduce any music story to good guys and bad guys.” On the hot topic of cultural appropriation, the man for whom Paul Simon’s Graceland was a unifying family soundtrack questions what we mean by ownership of culture. “Once you start thinking about cultural appropriation in music, it’s hard to think where you would stop. Even if you grow up in hip-hop, there’s going to be stuff you hear later that is not part of your childhood. When Notorious BIG released Big Poppa he was borrowing from the sound of west coast hip-hop. Broadly defined, cultural appropriation is absolutely everywhere”.

Thinking about articles like this from 2020 and this in 2021, has there been much progress?! When you look at award ceremonies and there are entire genres defined by white artists. Black artists usually defined and labelled as Soul or R&B. Country music has been very slow in assimilating and accepting Black artists. The Pop mainstream still struggles. So many areas of music segregate and define. We live in a time when fewer Black artists are given headline slots. In terms of the artists that are given the most airplay and focus by the industry. If things are slowly improving, it is clear that it is a struggle for so many artists. Tinashe being an example. New artists coming through and looking at the landscape. How genres and playlists have this bias towards white artists or will often lazily label Black artists. What she said about gate-keeping and how it is also hard to get to the mainstream if you are genre-less or do not play he game or fit the ideal. With racism and discrimination still widespread in music how easy is it to change things effectively and quickly?! There is a lot to think about and tackle. Something that is so deep-rooted is hard to correct overnight. With artists calling it out, there does need to be action. Award shows accused of racial bias and tokenism, things are not really progressing and improving as fast as they should. It is a deep and challenging subject that deserves more investigation and discussion. Tinashe’s words about her experiences will resonate with so many of her peers. That feeling of segregation. Fewer opportunities to get to the mainstream. These barriers in place if you are an artist who is independent and does not want to compromise their sound and identity. For an industry still not doing enough for women and artists of colour, addressing the issues it still has around race and segregation should be…

A huge priority.

FEATURE: Boulevard of Broken Dreams: Green Day’s American Idiot at Twenty

FEATURE:

 

 

Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Green Day’s American Idiot at Twenty

_________

EVEN if it doesn’t…

turns twenty until 21st September, I wanted to celebrate an important album. Green Day’s American Idiot might be their best work. The U.S. band’s seventh studio album, it came four years after Warning. It was quite a time away for them. Although there had been compilations in the gap, this was fresh material. Something much more charged and political. The terrorist attacks of 11th September in 2001 has altered a lot of the musical landscape in terms of what was being written. The presidency of George W. Bush. It was definitely a time that inspired something angry from Green Day. Although there are depths and different shades on American Idiot, the title refers to where their thoughts were. Reacting to the politics and consumerism of the time, there was another album due after Warning. Cigarettes and Valentines had its master tapes stolen. American Idiot was a career revival and transformation. Green Day reacting to the Iraq War and the growing disillusionment in the U.S. A concept album around Jesus of Suburbia, a lower-middle-class American adolescent anti-hero. The first time Green Day included transitions between songs. Joining two tracks into one and having longer tracks. It as an ambitious album that was met with critical acclaim. There will be debate as to which Green Day album is best. Many fans like the earlier work. Dookie (1994) or even Nimrod (1997). To me and many others, American Idiot is Green Day’s crowning achievement. I want to come to an article from Alternative Press. In 2016, they argued why American Idiot is the best Green Day album:

“Many people argue that Green Day’s greatest work is their 1994 hit Dookie.  It’s the record that put them on the map and hosts some of their most iconic songs, even to younger generations. (I once saw a 12-year-old get on stage during the band’s 99 Revolutions Tour and belt the entire third verse of “Longview,” a song about boredom and masturbation.) While Dookie is sonically a punk album, it was still incredibly commercial, dominating radio airwaves and MTV.  It’s a solid pop-punk record that will continue to affect generations to come. However, for the most part, Dookie is pretty static. It’s a surface card at best, whereas American Idiot hosts a lyrical depth that convinced me that breaking into a classroom at 2 a.m. was a good idea. I still think it was a good idea—there’s nothing more rock ‘n’ roll than rebellion.

American Idiot was Green Day’s first album that was truly rock ‘n’ roll, a characteristic that Dookie, Insomniac, Nimrod and even Warning lack.  Pulling from themes set forth by the Who’s Tommy and the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, Green Day embarked on their first rock opera concept record. It was also their first record to openly address and critique the politics of the time. This shift in sound and attitude allowed for a punk mentality told through a rock album more openly accessible to the public, a public who happened to be living in a post-9/11 era looking for a scapegoat.

People wanted to let loose from the stress of the day-to-day pressures presented in a time of mass paranoia and overwrought propaganda. A rock album with iconic, blasting riffs was a simple musical remedy that consumers could easily relate to. But it’s never been the politics in American Idiot that made it so great, though it definitely helped. In fact, there’s really only two politically charged tracks on the album: the title track and “Holiday.” That leaves 11 other movements to shape the story.

So what is this story that makes this release so substantial? It’s an outline of America during 2004. We meet the stereotypical “American idiot” trapped in a culture so invested in materialism, capitalism and war that the general public is seemingly blind to everything else. “Now everybody do the propaganda!” frontman Billie Joe Armstrong commands as if it were just another dance fad. We then meet the cliché suburban youth: the aptly named Jesus of Suburbia. During the huge five-part song of the same name, the album delivers its thesis statement: this is a coming of age story.  Jesus is tired of his humdrum life and seeks adventure by moving into the city, leaving his small, safe world behind. He travels to his metropolis only to be overwhelmed by this new lifestyle (“Holiday”). He endures the hangover and wants to find himself (“Boulevard Of Broken Dreams,” “Are We The Waiting”). He discovers his many vices (“St. Jimmy,” “Give Me Novacaine”). He finds love, or infatuation depending on how you view it, (“She’s A Rebel,” “Extraordinary Girl”) before realizing who he really is and decides to bring himself home (or at least back to reality) (“Homecoming”).  American Idiot is basically “SLC Punk! The Album” sans Heroin Bob.

And yet, this coming of age story we’ve heard “a million and one fucking times” resonates with listeners on a much different level than any Green Day record prior, because, unlike Dookie, it is progressive as well as timeless. American Idiot evolves in meaning and content with the listener as the listener works through his/her own life. It is relevant for the current generation, the one that consumed it in 2004 and the future listeners’ generation that will discover and grow up with the record as life carries on. Teen angst is a monumental part of maturing that is perfectly encapsulated in the first half of the record’s story through the origins of Jesus of Suburbia, but also captured sonically via the majority of the songs. As noted earlier, American Idiot fucking rocks. It hits hard and kids like their music loud, whether they understand the context or not.

In American Idiot, there’s a lyrical sophistication that Green Day taps into seldom seen in any of their other records. They take lines like “I’m not part of your elite/I’m just alright” (“Stuck With Me,” Insomniac) and turn them into “And there’s nothing wrong with me/This is how I’m supposed to be/In a land of make believe/That don’t believe in me” (“Jesus Of Suburbia”). The character St. Jimmy doesn’t just “get high high high/when he’s low low low” (“Misery,” Warning) he becomes “the needle in the vein of the establishment” and the “suicide commando that your momma talked about” (“St. Jimmy”). Problems extend past bored afternoons filled with porn and weed in the ‘90s to severe drug addiction, heartbreak, loss of self, cultural constraints and all the other bullshit today’s set society is forced to endure on a daily/weekly/monthly basis. Green Day are snarky: They’re telling the listener welcome to reality, the real American dream, the land of the free while also asking, “Is that a possibility?”

This dichotomy of resolution and reflection has always been a key factor of the record. After you get dumped and get through the Taylor Swift stage where your whole world feels like it’s crashing down, go listen to “Whatsername.” It’s the perfect summary of the numb feeling you get thinking about your ex, vaguely remembering the good times you had and the void you’ve partially filled without them. The whole song itself becomes a metaphor for looking back on what you’ve done in life and accepting the bad, taking notes of the regrets but moving on and moving forward because you have to. When Armstrong says, “This is the dawning of the rest of our lives” (on “Holiday”) he means it. Once you set forth, there is no going back to the innocence you once had. And that (though it may not seem like it) is a damn good thing”.

I will end with a couple of reviews for the fantastic American Idiot. I am keen to highlight this feature Pop Matters. They took us inside the album. Exploring the tracks. Even if Holiday is my favourite from American Idiot, one cannot deny the potency and power of the title track. So iconic and truthful. One of Green Day’s best songs. I think American Idiot still sounds relevant today. It is an album that should have made us think and change. I wonder how much we actually learned:

“Before 2004, few people would classify Green Day’s music as particularly sophisticated, intellectual, or thematically mature. Sure, “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life),” with its poignancy, fragility, and beautiful orchestration, quickly became the introspective acoustic ballad of a generation, and fun singles like “When I Come Around” and “Basket Case” were amongst the catchiest mainstream songs of their era. However, for the most part, the ’90s saw Green Day dominating the airwaves as little more than a premier punk rock group. The band emblemized a contemporary take on the rowdy counterculture retaliation of ’70s icons like the Clash. While it did an excellent job of it (don’t get me wrong), no one ever expected the trio to branch out of its preset genre limitations stylistically, conceptually, or technically.

But then came American Idiot, and everything changed. Part social commentary and part fictional narrative, the record came out of nowhere and blew everyone away with its biting political subversion, exploration of teenage angst, love, and uncertainty, and perhaps most importantly, brilliant structures, transitions, and overall cohesion. On the surface, it offered listeners a touchingly earnest and emotionally universal Bildungsroman about adolescent romance and rebellion that, combined with its multifaceted arrangements, earned it justified comparisons to the Who’s 1973 masterpiece, Quadrophenia. On a deeper level, though, it served as a scorching attack on the hypocrisy and evils of the Bush Administration (as well as the increasingly credulous and submissive nature of the American public). Combined, these achievements resulted in a wonderfully infectious, explosive, and profound work of art.

Although the album showcased astounding growth for the trio in every way, its greatest achievement was (and still is) exemplifying the truest purpose of art: to represent the struggles of the human condition and/or reflect on the injustices and illogicality of the age in which it exists. Upon its release, it received almost universal praise, with IGN arguably offering the most weighty conclusion (along with a perfect score):

“You will emerge from your experience with American Idiot physically tired, emotionally drained, and, quite possibly, changed forever. It is less an album than an experience that demands to be lived. It is a part of my life now, as well as the most satisfying hour of music I’ve ever heard. Nothing else even comes close. In short, American Idiot is flawless.”

“American Idiot”

Rather than jump right in with its story, American Idiot begins with its title track, an invigorating, catchy, and straightforward punk rock single that has almost nothing to do with the plot that follows. In a way, it acts as a bridge between the aesthetic of its predecessors and the sonic evolution that would follow. It starts with a razor-sharp chord progression that’s modest yet engrossing—naturally, bassist Mike Dirnt and drummer Tré Cool providing a great rhythmic complement too. Musically, the track doesn’t stray too far from this foundation, although some impressive syncopation and a killer guitar solo help it kick ass. No, what makes “American Idiot” so powerful and affecting are its lyrics and vocals.

As usual, singer/guitarist Billie Joe Armstrong bursts into the song with his characteristic tone and delivery, issuing his decrees with vigor and charming attitude. Cool’s isolated percussion leads the charge as Armstrong attacks the troubles of President George W. Bush’s reign, as well as the complacent and judgmental nature of Americans writ large. Every phrase, from its antagonistic opening—”Don’t wanna be an American idiot / Don’t want a nation under the new media / And can you hear the sound of hysteria / The subliminal mindfuck America”—to eventual jabs like “Well maybe I’m the faggot America / I’m not a part of a redneck agenda / Now everybody do the propaganda / And sing along to the age of paranoia”, suggests with pinpoint accuracy how hateful, impressionable, and just plain scared U.S. citizens were following the events of September 11th, 2001. People believed whatever the government and media suggested (such as the colorful “threat levels” that frightened us into limitless suspicion). As a result, they subscribed to a fear of the “Other” (as Freud would say).

Of course, the real question is, have we changed all that much since, or are we even more racist/sexist/homophobic and blindly patriotic since “American Idiot” first aimed to shatter our national security blanket? Regardless of the answer, it’s easy to see how impactful and necessary American Idiot was for its time, right from the start. The title track presented listeners with a blunt critique of the world around them, as well as a call of change, action, and self-reflection. At the same time, it stood as an exceptionally lively, dynamic, and appealing slice of punk anarchy”.

“Holiday”

Having properly set up both the social commentary and narrative construct of American Idiot with the album’s first two pieces (“American Idiot” and “Jesus of Suburbia”), Green Day chose the most logical option for the next track: fuse the two agendas into one wholly kickass amalgam. Indeed, “Holiday” is among the most overtly political songs on the record, which is probably why it was such a big hit back in 2004. Likewise, it followed up on the defiant departure of the album’s protagonist, showcasing the next chapter in his journey. A decade later, “Holiday” is still just as catchy, invigorating, and collectively powerful, igniting a rebellious fire in the soul of everyone who hears it, as well as sparking discussions about its meanings.

When we last heard from the main character (on March 3rd, according to the linear notes of the album), he was “running away from pain” and his “broken home”, so it makes sense that we now find him on holiday (vacation), traveling to wherever his destiny awaits. Specifically, it’s now April 1st, and he’s on the streets, reflecting on “the sound of falling rain / Coming down like an Armageddon flame” and declaring his independence. Other statements, such as “I beg to dream and differ / From the hall of lies / This is the dawning of the rest of our loves / This is our lives on holiday”, demonstrate this newfound enthusiasm for freedom, as well as a formal rejection of the corrupt government. Also, the fact that he uses “our” instead of “my” indicates that he’s inviting others to join him (and they do, eventually).

Interestingly, though, most of the lyrics to “Holiday” point the microscope outwardly, continuing the critical lens that “American Idiot” introduced. For example, the “Armageddon flame” signifies that he (and thus, Green Day singer Billie Joe Armstrong) is also commenting on the “War on Terror” that President Geroge W. Bush started. Essentially, Jesus is predicting that the end of the world will come from this international conflict. For example, “The ones who died without a name” likely relate to both literal casualties (soldiers and civilians alike) and, in a more figurative sense, anyone who’s fallen victim in the hysteria of political conflict. Later on, we’re told that “another protestor has crossed the line / To find the money’s on the other side”, a sentiment that illustrates how people will fight for the “right side” until they realize that perhaps everyone is in on the exploitation.

In the song’s most aggressive moment, the music forgoes most of its straightforward rock construction, allowing isolated percussion to stampede behind a punky “representative from California” as he “has the floor”. From there, he (along with backing chanters) utters bold proclamations, such as “Zieg Heil to the President Gasman / Bombs away is your punishment / Pulverize the Eiffel Towers / Who criticize your government”. Clearly, this is meant to connect the Iraq war to Nazism, as well as suggest destroying anyone who’s critical of the US. He goes on to profess, “Kill all the fags that don’t agree / Trials by fire / Setting fire / Is not a way that’s meant for me”, a statement that mocks both America’s enduring homophobia and its juvenile tendency to label anyone who disagrees with blind patriotism as a “fag” (which, in this context, means idiot, weakling, etc).

Although it’s not especially impressive musically (although it’s still very good, don’t get me wrong), “Holiday” still manages to stand out strongly due to its successful dichotomy, as it simultaneously moves the story along and further encapsulates the dense national critique that pervades underneath the surface of American Idiot. Our “hero” stands tall and free, refusing to buy into the deception and dishonor of both his hometown and country writ large. At this moment, he is content in his boldness and self-reliance, but that will change drastically once he begins traveling down the “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”.

Reaching number one in the U.K. and U.S., you can read more about American Idiot here. It won Best Rock Album at the 2005 Grammy Awards. It is considered one of the best albums of the decade ('00s). One of the best albums of all time. I would recommend people also check out this track-by-track review from Billboard. Before coming to an SLANT review of American Idiot, this is what AllMusic has to say in their review:

“It's a bit tempting to peg Green Day's sprawling, ambitious, brilliant seventh album, American Idiot, as their version of a Who album, the next logical step forward from the Kinks-inspired popcraft of their underrated 2000 effort, Warning, but things aren't quite that simple. American Idiot is an unapologetic, unabashed rock opera, a form that Pete Townshend pioneered with Tommy, but Green Day doesn't use that for a blueprint as much as they use the Who's mini-opera "A Quick One, While He's Away," whose whirlwind succession of 90-second songs isn't only emulated on two song suites here, but provides the template for the larger 13-song cycle. But the Who are only one of many inspirations on this audacious, immensely entertaining album. The story of St. Jimmy has an arc similar to Hüsker Dü's landmark punk-opera Zen Arcade, while the music has grandiose flourishes straight out of both Queen and Rocky Horror Picture Show (the '50s pastiche "Rock and Roll Girlfriend" is punk rock Meat Loaf), all tied together with a nervy urgency and a political passion reminiscent of the Clash, or all the anti-Reagan American hardcore bands of the '80s. These are just the clearest touchstones for American Idiot, but reducing the album to its influences gives the inaccurate impression that this is no more than a patchwork quilt of familiar sounds, when it's an idiosyncratic, visionary work in its own right. First of all, part of Green Day's appeal is how they have personalized the sounds of the past, making time-honored guitar rock traditions seem fresh, even vital. With their first albums, they styled themselves after first-generation punk they were too young to hear firsthand, and as their career progressed, the group not only synthesized these influences into something distinctive, but chief songwriter Billie Joe Armstrong turned into a muscular, versatile songwriter in his own right.

Warning illustrated their growing musical acumen quite impressively, but here, the music isn't only tougher, it's fluid and, better still, it fuels the anger, disillusionment, heartbreak, frustration, and scathing wit at the core of American Idiot. And one of the truly startling things about American Idiot is how the increased musicality of the band is matched by Armstrong's incisive, cutting lyrics, which effectively convey the paranoia and fear of living in American in days after 9/11, but also veer into moving, intimate small-scale character sketches. There's a lot to absorb here, and cynics might dismiss it after one listen as a bit of a mess when it's really a rich, multi-faceted work, one that is bracing upon the first spin and grows in stature and becomes more addictive with each repeated play. Like all great concept albums, American Idiot works on several different levels. It can be taken as a collection of great songs -- songs that are as visceral or as poignant as Green Day at their best, songs that resonate outside of the larger canvas of the story, as the fiery anti-Dubya title anthem proves -- but these songs have a different, more lasting impact when taken as a whole. While its breakneck, freewheeling musicality has many inspirations, there really aren't many records like American Idiot (bizarrely enough, the Fiery Furnaces' Blueberry Boat is one of the closest, at least on a sonic level, largely because both groups draw deeply from the kaleidoscopic "A Quick One"). In its musical muscle and sweeping, politically charged narrative, it's something of a masterpiece, and one of the few -- if not the only -- records of 2004 to convey what it feels like to live in the strange, bewildering America of the early 2000s”.

I am going to end with a review from SLANT. They noted how a band seen as slackers on previous work – who perhaps were not likely to be political or rally for change – had really changed things up and were now calling for action. An amazing transformation from Green Day. American Idiot still resounds and reverberates to this day:

“Of all the negative effects the Bush administration has had on the world (and unless you’ve had your head buried in the sand, then you know that there are many), the most unlikely bit of collateral damage has to be the return of the rock opera. Dissent has always been a fundamental tenet of punk rock, so it comes as no surprise that the forefathers of popular punk would take a stab at the not-quite-popular-enough sport of Bush-bashing. But an all-out punk musical? With American Idiot, their first studio album in four years, Green Day have resurrected the rock opera medium, and not only have they succeeded, they’ve managed to create a musical-political document that should remain relevant for years to come (possibly even longer if Bush actually gets elected this time).

The story begins on Presidents Day and follows two main characters, Jesus of Suburbia and St. Jimmy, who may or may not be the same person but who both stand on the same side of the political fence, with varying degrees of rage. Ultimately the narrative, which feels flimsy at times and ends with too many loose ends (perhaps the inevitable film or stage production will fill in the blanks), seems less important than Billy Joe Armstrong’s own story. “Maybe I am the faggot, America/I’m not part of a redneck agenda,” he sings on the title track. Billy Joe knows he (Jesus) is pretty much alone in his crusade (“Where have all the riots gone?” he begs in “Letterbomb”), but that doesn’t stop him from attacking both sides with equal vehemence on “Holiday,” one of American Idiot’s most potent tracks: “Another protester has crossed the line/To find the money’s on the other side,” and then, my personal favorite, “Zieg heil to the President Gasman!”

In the tradition of The Who and Pink Floyd, American Idiot is a pompous, overwrought, and, quite simply, glorious concept album. While it may be long on narrative and character skteches (Jesus’s muse is a girl named Whatsername, “the mother of all bombs”), it’s certainly not short on hooks. The guitars are stacked, the drums are big, and the message is crystal clear. There are hints of the more adult-skewed pop-punk of Green Day’s last album, 2000’s underappreciated Warning, on the power ballad “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” and “Wake Me Up Before September,” a lament for Billy Joe’s late father, but American Idiot finds the band exploring new ground, drawing not only on classic Clash riffs but, yes, Broadway musicals for a few multi-part, key-shifting epics. In their attempt to reinvigorate themselves as a band (creatively and commercially), Green Day have managed to accomplish what record companies have failed to do with so many useless tacked-on DVDs and net portals to “exclusive” material: they’ve produced an album you’ll want to own, Kazaa be damned.

The cheeky press notes for the album, set sometime in the future, boldly declares that American Idiot is “the album that started a whole cult of people clutching their hand grenade hearts” and that it’s “neck and neck with Sgt. Pepper as the greatest album of all time.” That remains to be seen, but for a band who burst onto the scene 10 years ago with a record called Dookie, the boys of Green Day, now in their 30s, sure have come a long way. They are, in fact, the real Nirvana, their influence more widely felt than any other American band from the ’90s (sorry, Kurt). Ironically, it seems the slackers of yesterday—the ones who were bored of masturbation, smoking their inspiration, and disenfranchised by the politics of Reagan and Bush Sr.—are now the ones rallying for political change, and hopefully their influence will reach a little bit farther than Sum 41 and Good Charlotte come this November”.

On 21st September, American Idiot turns twenty. American Idiot was planned as a film. However, plans were scrapped. It is a shame. However, it did take on a new life as a stage musical. That premiered in 2009. A documentary, Heart Like a Hand Grenade, was released in 2015 film. It featured Green Day during the recording of American Idiot. Directed by John Roecker and filmed over the process of fifteen months between 2003 and 2004. An inflammatory and essential album, it arrived at a time with so much tension and disenfranchisement. I wonder, twenty years later, whether people…

HAVE truly wised up?