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Songs of Praise
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Oh, how I despise January.
For me, it’s always been firmly at the tip of my top ten cruellest months.
Consider also that February is almost always static at number two in
that chart, and you can possibly begin to imagine how miserable this
time of year makes me feel. I can feel every fibre of my being yearning
for the warming suns of Spring, and the knowledge that it’s still so
very far in the future is depressing as all hell. Thank goodness then
for the things that help me make it through; praise the records, the
books and the movies. Praise the simple thrill of moments shared and
projected onto the bleak canvas of winter.
So praise Early Day Miners for their lovely All Harm Ends Here album
on the Talitres label, released under license from the great Secretly Canadian
(home of the peerless Jens Lekman) who have just issued this gem in the Northern
American territories. The press release calls it “Midwest post-goth” and I can
see the point in that, as its suffused with themes of death, decay, suicide and
the kind of general abstract bleakness so beloved of those who like to hang out
in graveyards pointing at crows and whispering about spirits. If that puts you
off (and goodness knows it probably should), don’t be misled, because in fact
Early Day Miners inject their brooding darkness with thin treads of colour and
light. Hope springs eternal, and whilst you might need to listen closely and
peer through the layers of cobwebs and black lace, the fires of redemption are
there burning gently in the distance. And it’s that partially obscured gem of
colour that makes All
Harm Ends Here perfect January music, in the same way that, say, Red House
Painters or American Music Club can be perfect January music: raw pain and desolation
that gives way to the creeping warmth of pale sunlight falling into attic bedrooms.
Highly recommended.
Praise too the bizarrely named low low low la la la love love love and their
eponymous set on the equally strangely named the birds and the rodents records.
Rooted firmly in the world of low/no-fi folk, this is a charming record that
recalls the same juxtaposition of fragility and strength of character that suffused
the early Elliott Smith albums. Singer songwriter Kelly Dyson sounds a mite like
Smith too, and whilst that’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s when his straining
voice blends with the gentler tones of Natalie Brightmore that the songs really
kick off their shoes to dance in early morning embraces before flickering fires.
And here too, as with Early Day Miners, there is a sense of underlying warmth
and the suggestion of uplifting escape that infuses the melancholia. Certainly
worth investigating. |
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And what about recent
Rough Trade signees Phantom Buffalo? Well, yes indeed, praise to Phantom
Buffalo. Or praise to The Pony’s, if you prefer, as the Portland
groups Shishimumu set is reissued here under their new moniker. And
a fine record it is too, fizzing and popping with a sweet 60s soft psych warmth
blended with a contemporary character that would have me filing Phantom Buffalo
next to the likes of The Shins, Of Montreal and Belle and Sebastian if I weren’t
the kind of sad individual who files all their records alphabetically (with the
occasional lapse into sorted by label). Shishimumu is one of those grower records;
the kind that really does reward repeated listening to allow the multi-layered
textures to unravel themselves into your psyche; to allow the melodies to inject
themselves into your bloodstream and to take over your subconscious. Recent(ish)
single ‘A Hilly Town’ is the most obviously storming Pop moment, with its marvellous
twang and loping gait, but there are many less obvious and immediate highlights:
the jangling moonkissed surreal love song of ‘Distracting Salamander’; the rumbling
Country of ‘Anywhere With Oxygen’ that comes over like some comic response to ‘Hey
Mr Spaceman’; the light headed/fingered delicious homage to the ‘60s of album
closer ‘Cheer Up My Man’, a song that starts off referencing the mighty Turtles
and ends up sounding for all the world like it wants to sneak off and join Tigermilk.
That it’s certainly fine enough should be recommendation enough for anyone with
even a droplet of taste. With one of my favourite covers of recent times featuring
fabulous
collaborative artwork by the band, I have a sneaking suspicion that Shishimumu is
going to end the year as one of those albums I’ll always come back to in moments
of need. It’s
certainly helped keep me sane all through January.
Also from Rough Trade is the confusingly titled EP set by The Fiery
Furnaces. Of course its not an EP at all but rather a collection of singles sides
that never featured on any of their two ‘proper’ albums. Maybe it’s the fact
that these tracks showcase the band’s more upbeat and Pop side that has won me
over, but whatever, it’s led me to heaping somewhat surprising praise on a band
that has previously left me cold. Lots of highlights, not least of which is the
magic and previously unreleased ‘Here Comes The Summer’ that, whilst it does
little to recall the Undertones classic of the same name, instead references
the mighty Wah’s ‘Remember’. And if you’re talking the language of uplifting
Pop, well, you can’t
get much finer than that. |
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Finally, praise to a couple of Swedish acts who’ve
made the kind of Pop that’s
always guaranteed to lift me out of the blues. Praise to The Legends and their Up
Against The Legends set on Labrador for grabbing the Pop blueprint laid
down by The Boo Radleys on their Everythings Alright Forever masterpiece (received
Indiepop wisdom puts it behind Giant Steps, but received wisdom, in my experience,
is often wrong) and making a contemporary gem of mangled Pop genius. Throw in
the influence of Psychocandy and The Ronettes, and you start to see where this
is all going. I dare say that The Legends are already darlings of Indiekids the
world over, but if they aren’t then they damn well should be. Ditto the very
wonderful Fibi Frap, whose sparkling ‘How Fast Is Your Heart Beating’ EP
on the marvellously obscure My
Secret Garden label has had me all aquiver of late. I’ve said it before but
I’ll say it again: Fibi Frap remind me of a whole range of memories, from Bad
Dream Fancy Dress to Action Biker to Lispector and beyond. In other words they
really do sound how Pop ought to be: all sweetened rough edges, drums that clatter
and one-fingered keyboards that pierce the heart like laser beams. And really,
how can anyone NOT love a song that has lines about being 'tall skinny and blonde'?
I for one certainly can’t
resist. My copy is hand numbered as being number 8 of 50, which means that this
EP is the kind of ludicrously limited edition that Pop should insist upon. Get
yours whilst stocks last.
©
2005 Alistair Fitchett
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