8 & 9 June 2013 (Days 159/160) – David and Dave

Despite extravagant sleep ins,  I found myself with sufficient time to listen to all three of the recent releases I bought on Friday as well another that had arrived from overseas.

(# 415) The Strokes – Comedown Machine (2013)

The first Strokes album, Is That It, was the product of a youthful band showing off their ability to knock off three minute new wave-ish gems.  Clearly they do not what to be accused of endlessly repeating the formula and have shown the urge to grow.  However, the most successful tracks on this, All The Time, Partners In Crime and Happy Ending are those that still remind me of that debut.  The problem appears to be here is that their sense of growth now seems be defined by putting a modern twist on 80’s song structures.  One Way Trigger appears to have been inspired by A-ha, whilst Tap Out and Welcome To Japan both seem to contain strong New Order touches and Chances contains fairly generic 80’s keyboard flourishes.  Rather than looking to the past, perhaps the band should trust their instincts and look to the future as they do on the ballad which closes the album, Call It Fate Call It Karma.

(# 416) David Bowie – The Next Day (2013)

Bowie, on the other hand, has reinvented his sound and image so many times that I think he gets confused who he is/was.  That’s why this album comes as such a surprise.  The lazy, amended version of the “Heroes” album packaging suggests that the music would be very much in same vein as that recorded in Berlin during the 70’s; instead what we have is a confident set of, for Bowie, straight ahead rock songs set to typically inscrutable lyrics.  Tracks are of a uniformly high quality, Bowie seemingly content to let the listener luxuriate in this unexpected comeback.  Then, just before the end of the album, he unleashes the twin bombs of How Does The Grass Grow? and (You Will) Set The World On Fire.   Both tracks, throwbacks to the catchy skewered rock on albums like Lodger and Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) are positioned to take you completely by surprise and keep you off balance.  The message?  Don’t count me out just yet.  

(# 417) Sleep – Dopesmoker (2003)

Sleep were one of the pioneers of what became known as stoner rock.  The album is called Dopesmoker and, when originally released, consisted solely of the title track which runs for 63 minutes and 34 seconds.  Or, put another way, 1 hour, three minutes and 34 seconds.  Do I need to say anything else?   If I was lazy – or stoned, dude – I’d leave it at this.  Actually, it’s an intricately constructed piece of music which, as a photograph included in my reissue copy of the album reveals, is no meandering jam.  My only complaint about it is that the main riff used to drive the piece and as a form of interlocking device between its sections is fairly undistinguished and this prevents the piece from scaling the heights that it really would have otherwise.  My reissue contains a second track, a poor quality, probably audience recorded, 11 minute live performance of Holy Mountain.

(# 418) Sound City – Real To Reel (2013)

This is the soundtrack to Dave Grohl’s documentary about the Sound City studios in California where, as a member of Nirvana, Nevermind was recorded.  To tell the history of the studio Grohl invited musicians who had recorded there (and some others) to record a new track with him, more or less on the spot within 24 hours.  It’s a great concept but unfortunately, it would appear that Grohl may have exercised too much control over the songwriting process with just about every track sounding like the Foo Fighters.  Only two tracks buck the trend.  One is the final track, Mantra, where Grohl deals with even the greater forces of Josh Homme and Trent Reznor.   The other is the absolutely brilliant rocker Cut Me Some Slack where the surviving members of the final version of Nirvana – Grohl, Krist Noveselic and Pat Smear – are joined by none other than Paul MacCartney. 

7 June 2013 (Day 158) – Aussie Albums 1979-1986

It is hard to work on the day before a long weekend.  Not that “M” and I have made any plans.  Actually we had made plans to use the long weekend as the start for a week’s vegetation on an island somewhere in the Pacific but her operation put paid to that.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself.  There’s still a day’s work to negotiate which I throw myself into with gusto.  After work I collect “M” and we head off into the long weekend.  First stop is a shopping centre where I buy my weekend listening.  From there we head off to “M”’s sister for dinner.  In between starting work and getting to dinner, I’ve ended up playing six albums, all by Australian acts and all released between 1979 and 1986. 

For me this was a great era in Australian music.  The live scene in Melbourne was booming, FM stations that played album tracks were on the air, quality music shows were on TV, albeit late at night, and not many of the big overseas bands were coming to Australia.  This enabled punters to save their money to buy more records and, more importantly, support the local industry by going to gigs.  At this time we were in no doubt whatsoever that Australian acts could match it with the world’s best and it was felt that it would only be a matter of time before these acts would conquer the world.   

None of the acts I played today did indeed conquer the world. A couple of these did fairly well and just about every act that didn’t was able to carve out a niche somewhere in the world marketplace.  Listening to these albums again, I don’t think the music was much at fault although I think the production values were on occasion a little on the thin side. 

But looking back I think I can explain why.  My theory is the Australian acts that have made it reasonably big have usually been those with something different to offer at the time or were seen as a replacement for something that was relatively scarce.  Let’s face it, no one in the world comes close to offering what AC/DC does.  Nick Cave is probably viewed overseas as unique as is most likely The Avalanches, Goyte and the Dead Can Dance.  The Little River Band hit big in the States because The Eagles took such a long time between albums and Men At Work were one of the first bands to hit big through their ability to project a persona via their early videos.  Kylie Minogue had the advantage of her Neighbours popularity (the Aussies soap opera being something the Brits actually crave) to launch her attack on the British market as did Delta Goodrem.    

Ultimately I think that the world’s response to Australian music is a little bit its response to anything we produce; in other words it will be mass consumed only if the overseas marketplace sees a need for it.  For the British and American music marketplace, why would someone in say Leeds or Kansas City choose to buy a record by an Australian act when there are other artists in their home country producing the same style of music?  If so, I think that’s a shame as there is a great deal of fine music out there just waiting to be discovered,  such as;

(# 409) Midnight Oil – Place Without A Postcard (1981)

For a micro second during the 80s it did appear that the Oils were going to take over the world but ultimately I think they were just too Australian and confrontational  in outlook for the world’s music lovers and, let’s face it, Peter Garrett’s voice really is an acquired taste.  Place Without A Postcard is just about my favourite Midnight Oil album.  It is extremely parochial in outlook, especially over the original vinyl side 2 which contains Burnie, Quinella Holiday, If Ned Kelly Was King and Lucky County, all song titles rich in meaning to Australians and probably no one else.  It’s also the album that contains Garrett’s least convincing vocal performances, the a capella start to Love’s On Sale being a particular low point.  Additionally the production by Glyn Johns has its critics as being a little on the thin side.  And yet all of these factors have conspired to produce a great record.  Vinyl Side 1 contains the flat out rockers Don’t Wanna Be The One and Someone Else To Blame, the mid tempo Brave Faces that continually builds in intensity before culminating in barely controlled chaos and the sombre Armistice Day.   The Australian tracks along with Love’s On Sale on Side 2 basically amount to a suite about the 1980s Australia that is still relevant today.  Lucky Country is as good a summation on Australian life as has ever been committed to vinyl.

(# 410) The Celibate Rifles – Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang (1986)

The Celibate Rifles (the title is basically the opposite of Sex Pistols) are unquestionably my favourite Australian band.  This is the first of two live albums on the market, this one a recording of a show at CBGB’s in New York City in 1986 and showcases tracks from their first four albums.  The Vinyl Side 1 of this album contains the most hair raising punk you’re ever likely to hear as the twin guitars of Dave Morris and Kent Steedman go for broke.  Back In The Red is a ferocious opener, with the band barely stopping its attack as it careens into Temper Temper and JNS.  Pretty Colours features a scorching intro before settling down into a pleasing mid-tempo grove.  Nether World picks up the pace again and Some Kinda Feeling brings the side to an raging conclusion.  It is about as perfect a side of live music as you would ever want to hear.  Side 2 pales a little in comparison but does contain covers of City Of Fun (The Only Ones) and Burn My Eye (paying its stylistic debt to Radio Birdman).  Covers are a Rifles live speciality and an album full of those – especially their awesome take on Donna Summer’s Hot Stuff – would be greatly appreciated.  In a word, essential.

(# 411) Hunters & Collectors – Hunters & Collectors (1982)

This was the debut album for this Melbourne band that took their name from a track by German experimental band Can.  Their early albums, and especially this one, sees them trying to mesh 70s German (i.e “Krautrock”) song structures with heavy doses of percussion and Australian pub rock.  (After all they needed to have something that would enable bookings in Melbourne’s band venues.) For the most part the results are incredibly successful and surprisingly melodic, especially on the opening track, and unlikely hit single, Talking To A Stranger.  Alligator Engine and Skin Of our Teeth are very much in the same vein and Boo Boo Kiss betrays a debt to The Birthday Party.  But ultimately everything bows down before the mighty 9 minute closer, Run Run Run, where jerky post punk guitars, claustrophobic percussion and sheer melody all collide to magnificent effect.  Strangely, the next album, when they employed the producer most associated with Krautrock, Conny Plank, was nowhere near as effective.   Nevertheless this debut set the foundations for a two decade career and a formidable reputation as one of this country’s finest ever live acts.

(# 412) The Saints – The Monkey Puzzle (1981)

This was the fourth Saints album and the first without the mercurial Ed Kuepper and his patented buzz saw guitar sound.  Lead singer Chris Bailey was then free to pursue his vision of the band and with this release moved the band away from the raw punk on the early albums to a much more melodic slightly poppier sound.  It is one of the most overlooked Australian albums containing a number of gems including Let’s Pretend, the magnificently catchy In The Mirror, Simple Love and a ramshackle version of Dizzy Miss Lizzy to end proceedings.

(# 413) Ed Kuepper – Electrical Storm (1985)

After leaving The Saints, Kuepper formed The Laughing Clowns and released three great albums of jazz influenced rock.  Electrical Storm is his first solo album and sees him fronting a trio alongside pianist Louis Tillet and drummer Nick Fisher.  The album introduced a number of tunes that were to remain staples of the Kuepper live set for a long time including Car Headlights, Told Myself and the wandering title track.  When The Sweet Turns Sour also shows Kuepper’s mischievous streak incorporating snatches of what appears to the theme to Spiderman cartoon series.  It proved to be a nice low key introduction to a long and fruitful solo career, although he is today a member of Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds.

(# 414) Mondo Rock – Primal Park (1979/extended version 2009)

What’s this doing here?  I suspect anyone asking that question only has memories of the top 40 mainstream pop band this act mutated into.  But this is a rather wonderful debut set of footstomping rock, all overseen by one of Australian rock’s true pioneers, Ross Wilson.   The original album was split between a studio A side and a live B side.  Question Time, Searching For My Baby and the title track dominate the studio side all catchy tunes with taut guitar work and excellent vocals from Wilson.  The live side shows an unexpected tougher side to Wilson’s work although closer Live Wire – The Mondo Showdown is probably longer than needs be.   The extended version, released by Aztec Records brings together the singles which preceded the album’s release, including the great The Fugitive Kind, and additional though less impressive live tracks.

June 2013 (Day 157) – Gurrumul

It’s an extremely busy day, incorporating a 3 hour in house occupation health and safety seminar and an off-site meeting.   I have only two shortish stints at my desk and I opt for music on the quieter side starting with;

(# 407) – Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu – Gurrumul (2008)

This is one of the most feted albums released in recent Australian music history and the great majority of people who heard it cannot understand a word.  Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu, is a blind Aboriginal from Arnhem Land, north of Darwin who sings mostly in his native language accompanied on most tracks with nothing more than an acoustic guitar and double bass.  But there is an emotion and clarity in his voice that cannot be denied; to hear it is to fall under its spell just as I do whenever I hear artists of the calibre of Aaron Neville, Curtis Mayfield and, on occasion, Marvin Gaye.  You’ll have to seek translations to discover what the songs are about but I’m reliably informed that the songs are about matters close to home rather than of protest.  This is borne out by the only song that utilises some  English, Gurrumul History (I Was Born Blind), and which is suitably affecting.

(# 408) Opal – Early Recordings (1989)

Sometimes my memory plays tricks on me.  Seeking something to follow on from Gurrumul, I thought this would be the best bet.  Opal was effectively the duo of David Roback and Kendra Smith.  This album contains their first two EPs and some outtakes of their take on psychedelica and folk music.  Whilst Smith’s voice floats like an American Nico, it is the guitar work of Roback that frequently catches the ear on tracks such as Empty Box Blues, Empty Bottles and Fell From The Sky in a manner that reminds you of his previous band, The Rain Parade.   A full length album followed these EPs and afterwards Smith left to record a couple of ethereal albums. She was replaced by the even more ethereal Hope Sandoval as the band became Mazzy Star, the band I actually wanted to play

I was in need of such reflective music because “M” were due to meet with her specialist for a post operation briefing.  Whilst we had already received the good word, one cannot fully put these things out of your mind until you’ve heard it directly from the source.   Fortunately, were we reassured that everything was benign and were briefed about her future outlook.  We left the meeting more relived than anything else and ready to face whatever life has next in store for us, just like Gurrumul.

Of course for me, that means continuing this blog……. 

5 June 2013 (Day 156) – Indigenous Voices

When I got to work today, I realised that I’d forgotten to bring my copy of Yothu Yindi’s Tribal Voice.  How was I going to pay tribute to Mr Yunupingu? The most obvious thing will have been to play something by his nephew Gurrumul Yunupingu who is the aboriginal singer most known around the world.  Then I realised that in addition to him I had at least three other acts on my iPod and others in my collection in a non digital format. If I did, Yothu Yindi’s Tribal Voice, Coloured Stone’s Black Rock From The Red Centre and No Fixed Address’ From My Eyes, would be automatic walk up starts.

Coloured Stone and No Fixed Address were practically unique in that they incorporated reggae music into their sound.  Indeed, No Fixed Address were one of the acts that helped me appreciate reggae music and for a while in the early 80s were popular among promoters who frequently used them as a local support act for visiting overseas bands.  I’m reasonably sure they were the support act on The Clash’s only Australian Tour (or at least they were in Melbourne) cementing the link between reggae and punk that had developed in Britain.  Their brilliant song We Have Survived (from the From My Eyes mini album) is a tune that by all rights should have been a massive worldwide hit especially with its infectious hook “ We have survived the white man’s world/And you know, you can’t change that.”

But for the most part, the great majority of Aborigines who entered the Australian music industry did so via country and western music.  In his great book Buried Country – The Story Of Aboriginal Country Music, Clinton Walker identified a number including Herb Laughton, Dougie Young, Auriel Andrew, Vic Simms, Bob Randall, Bobby McLeod, Isaac Yama and Roger Knox.  I can’t remember how well known these acts were to the general Australian population – certainly they would have been reasonably well known on the Australian (bush) country circuit – but I do remember world champion boxer Lionel Rose having a top 10 hit via the country tune “I Thank You” and also the incomparable:

(# 404) Jimmy Little – Messenger  (2002)                 

Although this is not a country album, Jimmy was taken on a Johnny Cash journey and refashioned a number of well known, mostly alternative, Australian tunes from the previous couple of decades.  His aged yet honeyed to perfection voice sat well with his reinterpretations of The Church’s Under The Milky Way, The Reels Quasimodo’s Dream, Crowded House’s Into Temptation and  The Sunnyboys'  Alone With You. But the highlight is his take of the Warumpi Band’s  Blackfella/Whitefella where its refrain “Stand up/Stand up and be counted” is rephrased from a call to arms to a dignified request that daren’t not be missed.

(# 405) The Warumpi Band – Big Name, No Blankets (1985)

Formed in the Northern Territory, The Warumpi Band eventually moved to Sydney where they caught the eye of Midnight Oil.  As a result of this association came this debut album which, for the most part consists of straight ahead rock on aboriginal themes.  Fitzroy Crossing is a nod the country music origins.  But its big selling point is as the home to Blackfella/Whitefella one of the finest and catchiest calls to action. If you get a chance, try to find the documentary of their tour of inland Australia with Midnight Oil.   It ends with the band playing Blackfella/Whitefella with members of the Oils singing to one side.  As the song proceeds each member gives up his instrument to one of the Oils that by the end of the tune the latter has already begun playing The Dead Heart.

(# 406) Kev Carmody – Cannot Buy My Soul [disc 2 only] (2007)

Carmody is a singer songwriter from far north Queensland who has released only a handful of albums.  But each of these contained enough gems for long-time advocate Paul Kelly to put together this compilation.  (Disc 1 of this set consists of versions of the same songs as performed by a range of present day [white] Australian acts.)  Just the song titles should be sufficient to alter listeners to the likely lyrical content – I’ve Been Moved, Thou Shalt Not Steal [about the British colonists who insisted on instilling Christianity and the 10 Commandments in the Aborigines whilst simultaneously stealing the country from them], River of Tears and the title track.  Comrade Jesus Christ is a powerful spoken word piece in which Carmody makes a convincing case that Christ would today be regarded as a communist if he were to arrive and preach his basic messages.  Naturally, it contains his best known and frequently covered number From Little Things Big Things Grow.

4 June 2013 (Day 155) –Black & white?

After overcoming yesterday’s grey day, I’d thought that I’d play a bit of jazz and blues today.  But I only got as far as;

(# 399) Earl Hines – In Paris (1971)

If Hines has a place at all within today’s pop culture consciousness, it would no doubt be due to the presence of a gig poster of his that adorned the staircase wall of the Malibu beach house set of Charlie Sheen’s character in Two And A Half Men.  Hopefully, its spurred some souls into investigating his music.  Hines is one of the great jazz pianists having fronted his own orchestras, played with other acts, solo or in small combos.  This album is an example of latter and was recorded relatively late in his career.  It is a brilliant set of jazz instrumentals, the most known of which is the George and Ira Gershwin Foggy Day.  My copy of the album is a 2004 reissue that also includes the standard Almost Like Being In Love in which Hines also contributes vocals.

By the time this ended I was in need of a caffeine fix.  As I was sourcing this, I came across a copy of The Age and discovered that the former leader of Yothu Yindi, Mr Yunupingu, had died aged 56 of kidney disease brought about by alcohol misuse.  His death was not a shock; his recent poor health had been widely reported and, unfortunately, his death is still typical of the health fate that still awaits a significant proportion of Australia’s indigenous population.   

But what stunned me was a statement that Yothu Yindi’s famous track Treaty in 1991 made them the first Aboriginal musicians since Jimmy Little in the 1950s to have made the Australian music charts.  (This doesn’t mean that Aborigines didn’t chart at all in the interim.  The boxer Lionel Rose, for example, charted in the 1970s with his song I Thank You, but I suspect he did not meet the definition of musician.)  However, the song only charted when the track was remixed as dance music by white Australian DJs.

 Nevertheless it was the first song in an Aboriginal language to ever chart.  And it has helped in registering in the minds of white Australians that there were (and still are) barriers between our indigenous and non-indigenous populations that require bridging.  Certainly Yothu Yindi showed that music is a tool that can bring this about.  The only time I saw them live was when they supported Santana at Rod Laver Arena in April 2003.  In addition to their support set, they later appeared alongside the headliner for a spirited and deeply felt run through Bob Marley’s Exodus which incorporated snatches of Treaty and I think One World One Voice.

But the irony remains that their success was aided by the DJs who somehow were able to make the song “palatable” to the white mainstream.  It’s also an illustration of rock music’s rather complicated relationship to race relations.  This is also something it shares with jazz.  Music essentially developed by black people that was embraced by the white population.  Popular jazz musicians like Earl Hines got to experience this first hand especially when his orchestra was the first major black one with sufficient popularity to tour the Southern States.

And it was this factor that guided my listening – in the absence of any Yothu Yindi on my iPod – for the rest of the day, starting with the recordings by the man whose voice really shook things up:

(# 400) Elvis Presley – The Sun Sessions (1954/5 released as album 1976)

One of the most famous quotes in the history of rock belongs to Sam Phillips, the owner of Sun Records and Presley’s first producer.  It went something along the lines that he would earn a million dollars if he could find a white man who could sing like a black man.  It’s a sentiment I cannot even begin to comprehend.  Music is something that is heard and felt; how the skin colour of the person performing the music can influence that feeling is mystifying, particularly in the 1950s when most people’s discovery of music would have still been over the radio.  Does this mean that some of the basic rock ‘n’ roll texts found on this compilation of his recordings at Sun, such as Mystery Chain, That’s All Right, Baby Let’s Play House and Good Rockin’ Tonight, would never have been embraced by the white audience if he were black?  

(# 401) Led Zeppelin – BBC Sessions [disc 1 only] (recorded 1969/released 1997)

In the late 1960s there were plenty of British acts that paid tribute to American black and, mainly Chicago, blues acts.  Whereas The Rolling Stones have been portrayed as middle class white boys displaying an enthusiasm for the genre, an act like Led Zeppelin were reviled for essentially doing the same thing.  The key point here seems to be that Led Zeppelin was thought to not grant appropriate song writing credits to the black acts whose music they were revamping.  (Although one should never rule out the influence of their late manager Peter Grant here.) But all that the early Stones  did was to cover tracks by black artists and thus the attribution  of songwriting credits was an easy task.   Led Zeppelin were trying to create original music in a genre that recycles basic riffs, etc.   This disc shows evidence of their earliest work, comprising in studio BBC sessions recorded during 1969.  (Disc 2 is a live show from 1971).   It effectively distils the essence of the first two Led Zeppelin albums and contains all of the key tracks. Yet the criticism of Led Zeppelin becomes supremely ironic for two reasons.  First, even if they were guilty of misappropriating credit on these tunes, how different would such a practice have been when compared to how the black acts were treated by the companies for which they recorded?  And even more ironically, Led Zeppelin’s songs, alongside that of a number of similar pioneers, were to create a form a music – hard rock/heavy metal – that is noticeable in part for its failure to be embraced by black audiences.

(# 402) Living Colour – Time’s Up (1990)

Ask most people to mention a black hard rock or heavy metal act and chances are they will cite either  The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Bad Brains or Living Colour.  The latter is a superb band, with a stand out guitarist in Vernon Reid, that is adept in playing a range of styles.  This is their second, and probably best, album containing the slamming title track, the hit single Love Rears Its Ugly Head and the brilliant rocker Type.  But the standout here is Elvis Is Dead.  On this they quote from Public Enemy’s  Fight The Power and twist a line from Paul Simon’s Graceland to read “I have a reason to believe that we all won’t be received at Graceland”.  On top of this Little Richard delivers a rap pointing out that a black man taught him how to sing only for the band to point out that essentially died as a [black] slave strung out on those interminable dates in Las Vegas.

(# 403) Eminem – The Marshall Mathers LP (2000)

In my opinion, Eminem is the current day version of Elvis Presley, being the artist most responsible for opening up rap music to the American white population.  He did this by proving that white boys could rap and was then clever enough to strike a chord with those that shared the same poor backgrounds as himself.  Forget about the skits and the foul language; this is a howl from the streets from a man hell bent on communicating with his, mainly fellow Americans, that all is not well and that for some people even satisfying personal relationships are impossible let alone glimpsing the American Dream.  And for people like me who have never experienced the type of upbringing or lifestyle he sings about, there’s also the brilliance of Stan and The Real Slim Shady to keep things interesting musically.

3 June 2013 (Day 154) – Mysterious Sounds For Grey Days

I wake up this morning and don’t want to get out of bed.  As we approach the winter solstice, mornings are cold and dark.  Eventually I make my way to the kitchen and “M” has the coffee ready and hot.  We sit at the kitchen table and have breakfast but for all intents and purposes it’s still night time.  By the time we’ve showered and dressed, light has begun to filter through but the outside world still seems dark.

As we drive into town the rising sun alters that world to a dark shade of grey, a sense not helped by the number of new towers and concrete elevator shafts of skyscrapers under construction.   Surely it must have dawned on someone to paint the new buildings, I grumble.  “M”, who knows how dispiriting it is to grow up in a city dominated by grey concrete buildings, agrees.  Then comes the moment I least look forward to each week, as I drop “M” off at her work, marking in my mind the formal end of the weekend. 

I get to my Office and sit at my desk.  I turn on my computer and look at of the window to its left and take in the view of my workplace car park.  I don’t notice other staff members as they arrive.  All I notice is the grey.  I look down at my iPod and decide that I must have music.  Whilst my computer turns on the various programs I need to work I try to find something to match my mood and the outside world.

(# 395) Slint – Spiderland (1991)

Acknowledged as an underground classic this was this band’s second and final album.  Almost the entire album consists of slowish guitar numbers  with lots of space.  In parts the guitars are so low you can barely hear them; you know they’re there, you can sense they’re there but you have to strain to hear them.  Yet everything is audible – guitar string licks, faint reverberating strums, glistening cymbals and lyrics mostly about an alienating existence.  Only on the middle track, Don Aman, does the tempo accelerate with almost all of the remaining tracks sounding like variations of the same ghostly track.  The other exception is the final number, Good Morning, Captain, one of those masterful tracks, such as the final track on Sigur Ros’ (   ) album, that appears to have been inspired by Stairway To Heaven.

(# 396) Bitch Magnet – Umber (1989)

Bitch Magnet utilised an approach similar to that which Slint were to use, (the track Douglas Leader would not sound out of place at all on Spiderland) only much more consistently louder and faster.  But the crisp production, on admittedly my remastered version of the album, means that even the feedback on tracks like Americacrusier and Navajo Ace can be clearly picked out by the listener. 

(# 397) Codeine – The White Birch (1994)

This is another album that reminds me greater of Spiderland but with a lusher guitar sound.  The guitars on this, in turn, also remind me of the warmer sound Sonic Youth were to generate on latter period albums such as Murray Street and Sonic Nurse.  Indeed Vacancy on this album could pass for a Thurston Moore track especially with Stephen Immerwahr’s  soundalike vocals.

(# 398) The Sand Pebbles – A Thousand Wild Flowers (2009)

The Sand Pebbles are a guitar driven psychedelic band from Melbourne.   Whilst not exactly in the same mode as the previous three albums, I played this owing to some superficial similarities, notably the emphasis on guitars and the relatively clean production.  This is a compilation album for the international market with tracks taken from their three albums up to this point and some live material.  Full of tunes with marvellous clear guitar lines that twist in and out and around each other, the best way to experience this band is in concert as the live tracks on this attest.  But the real gem here is the epic 12 minute Black Sun Ensemble, the equal of any guitar heaven track you’d care to name.

1& 2 June 2013 (Days 152 & 153) – Ch-Ch-Changes

I don’t know why but I was feeling really fine on the weekend despite the miserable weather.  

Maybe it was because “M” favoured a weekend at home.  Maybe it was my doing some handyman work around the house and effectively repairing a door that was coming off its hinges.   Maybe it was hearing the news that a tree right behind our house that was forever blocking our gutters was going to be felled by the house’s new owners.  Or, maybe it was the Bulldogs making it 2 wins in a row with another 9 point wing over Port Adelaide in Darwin.

All I know is that full of happiness, joy and bravado, I thought I'd take on the challenge of jazzing up this very blog.

First I needed to come up with a visual representation of myself given my wish to remain anonymous.  Easy one, I parted my collection of vinyl and inserted a bio of Otis Redding and a copy of the Deluxe Edition of Sonic Youth’s Dirty alongside each other adding a hastily scribbled biro dot.  For some reason, I added my reading glasses.  I should have added my trusty iPod.

Next, I went looking for a more dynamic presentation and colour scheme.  I tested a number of the template models that Google has on offer and settled on the watermark version.  After arranging the format, I took out my camera and spent a couple of hours composing the most magnificent watermark image.  I created a space and into it placed a number of vinyl albums, visible by their spines.  Next to this I organised a pile of my favourite CDs with all of the titles visible.  A pile of some of my favourite music book titles spine out again was topped by a number of DVDs, also spine out.

My goodness!  The amount of effort that went into composing that image was enormous.  I wanted to have all my bases covered in terms of what was readable.  So in choosing the various items I kept asking myself questions such as; do I have a reggae album?  What about a blues, item?  Jazz?  A pile of Springsteen?  Where Neil?  Patti Smith? ……….

Finally I was satisfied and I took the image.  It was brilliant.  Next I stuck the memory card into my computer for uploading onto the template which promptly rejected it.  The photograph was too big.  Disgusted, for the first time in my life I felt like an artist who had produced his finest work only for it to be spurned. And so [il]logically, I deleted the image.  Stuff this, I thought.  I’ll use one of their images for now and settled for a black and white shot of an empty stage taken from the back of a band venue.  Damn, it looks pretty good!

After doing all of this, I discovered these things called gadgets and found one that allows you to set up images.  I inserted this as a page and then spent an hour going through the images I took at the gigs I’ve attended this year.  Then I uploaded them , placed them into a logical sequence and annotated them.  Mmm! Not bad.  That’s given me another idea but I need to do a fair bit of work before I can pull that off. 

But, by now “M” is complaining that I haven’t spent enough time with her.  I’m shocked into shame and call a halt.  After packing everything away another realisation hits me.  I’d been so engrossed in my work, I’d forgotten to play any music! 

And so after a weekend tinkering about on my computer in my home studio, I use the internet to present top you, my “audience” the results of my experimentation.   It amounts to a change in image or, if you will, my reinvention.

Hope you like the new direction.