I always want to hear something new. Or unique.
Or challenging. Or groundbreaking. Even better is something that’s all of the
above, although in this instance my definition of the word “new” would be
flexible enough to include acts or albums from music history that was barely
heard when first released.
The challenge for today’s rising musicians though is to
produce something that will challenge the musical status quo and/or stand the test
of time. However, the question that’s been
voiced over the last decade or two has been whether there are any new
directions that can be explored. To
recall a sentiment I read in a Rolling Stone
article about 20 years ago, is it possible that rock will become a form of
music that will increasingly become out dated and seen as something emblematic of
a bygone era like the 1940’s big band and their crooners (a.k.a. the “rock stars”) of the era?
It was an interesting analogy. Who could have possibly foreseen the rise of Harry
Connick, Michael Buble and others as well as the resurgence in popularity of Tony
Bennett when that Rolling Stone sentiment was written? Whatever one thinks about that style of
music, it is reasonably clear that the musicians concerned have taken advantage
of modern recording technologies to produce something that is now seen as
fresh. Tony Bennett, of course, is
simply continuing to do what he’s always done but has been able to seem fresh
via his alliances with present day acts.
And this is what today’s newer acts have in their favour. Technology has given them some advantages in
terms of recording equipment, computerised instruments, sampling and
alternative distribution modes such as the internet. The internet, in turn, also enables them to
far more easily discover a wider range of music from around the world and/or through
history.
But what is also reasonably clear to me is another factor
that allows newer acts to develop. It is
a general lack of knowledge of music history on the part of the audience. One of the things I’ve continually noticed throughout
my life is the acclaim that’s been heaped upon new acts whose initial
recordings have been based in part upon music from the past that the
audience had either forgotten or never knew about. (The same thing also applies to individual songs. How many times have you or someone you know
express admiration about a “new” song only to be advised that it is a cover of
a long ago hit?) I well remember the
explosion of praise that, for example, accompanied The Strokes first album. I saw the band touring behind it as special
guests of You Am I on an Australian tour.
After their set, punters around
me excitedly spoke about their “unique” or “new” sound. Although I thought they’d done well, I didn’t quite
share that level of enthusiasm. The
Strokes had demonstrated a great ability to recreate the sounds of 70s NYC new
wave but not much else. But I knew it
was a great platform from which to develop.
As for the level of enthusiasm in the audience, I did notice I was in
the upper percentile of the age bracket present that night and realised that to the bulk
of the audience, The Strokes were producing music that seemed to them fresh, new and exciting.
That young musicians should produce music based upon acts or
records they’ve admired is completely understandable. After all, everyone needs a frame of
reference, a form of standard to which they strive in defining initial
success. This should never be the basis
for negative criticism, unless the act claims that they haven’t been influenced
that way. However brilliant the first
couple of Led Zeppelin albums were, they were widely and justifiably criticised
for the band’s refusal to acknowledge that key tracks were blatant rewrites of
electric blues standards. On the other
hand, a local journalist here inappropriately tried to argue that Silverchair’s
first album was a blatant Nirvana rip off.
There are a couple of distinguishing features in these examples here. Led Zeppelin already had two session music
veterans in the guise of Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones within its ranks; the
refusal to acknowledge the sources for specific songs might well have been
forced upon them by their manager, Peter Grant.
But Silverchair at the time was a trio of 17 year old kids. No one had claimed they had ripped off a
specific Nirvana track and the criticism made little allowance for their
age. If you were a teenager and wanted
to form a rock band in the mid 1990s who were you likely to adopt as a musical
role model other than Nirvana? But what both
examples also have in common is that by their end of their respective lives,
each band (Led Zeppelin obviously far more spectacularly and enduringly) was
producing music that far outstripped their original sources. I’m not necessarily saying that Led Zeppelin
ended up producing music that was better than the Chicago and delta blues
masters and I’m definitely not claiming that Silverchair ended up producing
music that surpassed Nirvana’s. What I’m
suggesting is that both bands ended up producing music that was the product of
their own imaginations and which is clearly and recognisably theirs.
And this is one of the great thing to me about hearing new
acts or albums. Who are going to surpass
their initial influences? Who’s going to
take the great leap forward? Like
Radiohead shrugging off an R.E.M influence to produce Kid A and its
successors. Or like XTC’s early punkish
evolution into the lush pastoral sounds of Skylarking? Or, Metallica forgoing its thrash roots to collaborate
with Lou Reed? Maybe, just maybe, it
will be one of these acts, who I’ve only discovered over the last 12 months,
and which I listened to today;
(# 383) Beach House –
Bloom (2012)
This is the fourth album released by this American band that
hails from Baltimore. On the basis of
this album they produce a dreamy form of rock very much in the vein of Mercury Rev
and The Flaming Lips albeit without a lot of the eccentricities associated with
either act. (Lead vocalist Victoria
Legrand even has a voice that sounds not that dissimilar to Mercury Rev’s
Johnathan Donahue.) Lazuli is reminiscent
os the blissed out portions of My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless album and The Hours adds Beach Boy harmonies and
instrumentation to the mix.
(# 384) Laurels –
Plains (2012)
Incredibly, this debut album from a band in New South Wales,
appears to musically pick up exactly where the Beach House album ends. The great opener Tidal Wave is very much in
My Bloody Valentine mode, or perhaps more appropriate the (ahem) flood of shoegazing
bands that followed in their (ahem) wake.
The remainder of the album has them showing off what I suspect is a deep
range of musical influences. This City
Is Coming Down and Glacier are acoustic variations of the opener’s
approach, Manic Saturday deploys jangly
guitars of a type beloved by so many young Australian bands and Sway Me Down
Gently suggests an affinity with Come’s classic album Eleven:Eleven.
(#385) Grimes –
Visions (2012)
This is the third album by Canadian singer songwriter Claire
Boucher. She possesses a girlish voice,
sort of early Madonna meets Enya and Bjork and Korean popsters which is
deployed over New Orderish synth lines to mesmerizing effect. She really hits her stride in the middle
portion of this release; Circumambient brings some Crystal Method type touches
to the mix whilst Vowels = Space and Time and Visiting Statue are incredibly catchy.
