Album of the Month: FIVE WAYS TO SAY GOODBYE by Mick Harvey

Mick Harvey is one of the unsung rock heroes of our time. Not just for the work he did with Nick Cave (I still shudder at saying this in the past tense) - but for the excellent production and instrumental work he has provided for other artists, from PJ Harvey to Robert Forster. For his solo career, too. For the masterful interpretation of Serge Gainsbourg's music. For the rare but precious moments of singer-songwriter brilliance that have led to underrated albums like Two of Diamonds and Sketches from the Book of the Dead. 

That said, I could probably make a good point that Beth Gibbons's Lives Outgrown is, inevitably, the best album of the month. Or could I?..

Five Ways To Say Goodbye was such a low-key release that I almost missed it (as I have done multiple times with some of his earlier work). So much so that its appearance on Spotify was a bit of an afterthought, and I first heard it in the impenetrable jungle that is Bandcamp. 

While the album consists of just four original compositions, they merge so seamlessly with his interpretations of other people's work that you start to understand why Harvey has never trusted the word 'cover'. Truly, guessing which songs on Five Ways To Say Goodbye were self-penned and which were written by other artists would not be easy. A certain sombre, pensive atmosphere permeates the album and makes everything his own. 

The string arrangements are beautiful (soaring in "Alone With The Stars", chilling in "A Suitcase in Berlin" - an ode to Berlin first recorded by Marlene Dietrich in the 1950s) and the melodies are sung in that delicate voice that makes the material extra subtle and majestic. The one time when he rocks out is when he does Dave McComb's "Setting You Free" (this would be a good place to recommend McComb's passionate, masterful Love Of Will album) - he does it with conviction and a certain roughness that the song requires. Still, my favourite piece on this extremely even LP would have to be Harvey's take on Ed Kuepper's "Demolition". It is gorgeous beyond all reason (it makes me think of The Paradise Motel's version of "Drive"), and the way he roughs up the ending while retaining the aural bliss of that chorus is a truly special moment. 

A great, great album that deserves to be cherished - or at the very least heard by more people. And to go full circle with this review... I remember how I first found out that Mick Harvey had a solo career. It was while reading a British music magazine that features a brief review of his Australian Rules soundtrack. It was a glowing four-star piece that concluded with something like "the sooner he leaves that one-trick charlatan Cave, the better". That is taking things way too far, obviously, but Mick Harvey solo work deserves a lot more recognition than it has received over the years.  

May Round-Up

Paul Weller has written some of my favourite songs of all time ("Going Underground", "The Bitterest Pill"). Sadly, none of his solo albums have even come close. They have all been... fine, I guess, but there is an uncomfortable sense that each time he succeeds, he just sounds like someone else. That said, 66 is one of his stronger albums - with the soulful, elegant waltz of "My Best Friend's Coat" and the timeless melody of the opening "Ship Of Fools" being especially noteworthy. A subdued, introspective affair with one point of interest: the verses of "Flying Fish" sound like "The Winner Takes It All" by ABBA. 

Times being what they are, Camera Obscura should be huge. With their lightweight, twee-tinged pop, they provide the perfect escape from the current state of things. Just consider that album cover for a second. Look To The East, Look To The West is all lovely and cute, but very little sticks beyond the breezy chorus of "We're Going To Make It In A Man's World". Melodies should have a little more meat to them. Unassuming and inoffensive. Six out of ten (on a good day).

I have similar feelings towards Jessica Pratt's new album, but there is a certain mystery to her, something pleasant yet elusive. Here In The Pitch is a decidedly retro affair. Think of the early 60s, of folk pop so subtle it almost slips through your fingers. Good stuff but I'm afraid I need a little more edge in this kind of music. 

Lives Outgrown is Beth Gibbons's first album in a million years (22, to be exact - her last LP was 2002's Out Of Season with Rustin Man), and it is just as good as you hoped it would be. Subtle and undeniably powerful. These shapeless folk songs are not particularly immediate but further listens are rewarding. The tunes may not reach the autumnal heights of Out Of Season, but you can't deny the voice and a certain profound tension which cuts through the album. 

Arab Strap are reliably brilliant. This new album I'm totally fine with it 👍 don't give a fuck anymore 👍 is seedy, dark, strangely hypnotic. Sometimes uncomfortable but then they bang you on the head with a huge chorus. Sometimes too disco-ish and straightforward but then they knock you down, beautifully, with that unsettling Scottish whisper. Great stuff. 

Did I really love Lousy With Sylvianbriar and give it a 10 out of 10 back in 2013 or something? Because I have no idea what Kevin Barnes is doing these days. This latest of Montreal album, Lady On The Cusp, is a fluffy slab of nothing. The man has lost it to the extent where you would be excused to think that he never really had it in the first place. Whimsical, psychedelic? Maybe. Mostly, though, just bloodless and dull.  

Finally, Steve Albini went out with a bang. Shellac's last LP, To All Trains, is a rough post-punk explosion of noise and energy. It is not pretty but it never tries to be. And, at 28 minutes, it is criminal to avoid this premature goodbye.

Songs of the month:

"Dreg Queen" - Arab Strap

"Demolition" - Mick Harvey 

"Frogs" - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

"Beyond The Sun" - Beth Gibbons

"Ship Of Fools" - Paul Weller

"Claw Machine" - Sloppy Jane

Best Synthpop Songs of the 80s

Whenever someone brings up the 1980s, there is always talk of 'the worst decade ever'. I could never get it. Kate Bush? The Triffids? The Go-Betweens? The Fall? What are you talking about? If you don't measure music by whatever Paul McCartney and Eric Clapton were doing in mid-80s, you are fine. 

The Rolling Stones did not suck in the 1980s, and synths and drum machines did not ruin music. With that in mind, here is a list of ten best synthpop songs of that much maligned decade. Obviously many classics had to be discarded (for the record, both "Don't You Want Me" and "Take On Me" failed at the final hurdle). 

10. "The Look of Love, Pt.1" by ABC (1982)

From the great debut The Lexicon of Love. I could of course choose "Poison Arrow" but it is this song that has always wowed me with its slick production and immaculate backing vocals. With not a second wasted, this is an absolute classic.

9. "Girls On Film" by Duran Duran (1981)

I have expressed my love for the MTV live performance of this song far too many times now. The song appeared on the band's honestly-quite-good self-titled debut LP. "Girls On Film" is the sort of 80s dance pop you would not be ashamed to dance to. 

8. "Like A Prayer" by Madonna (1989)

Well, I'm not so stupid as to deny the total genius of this song. Madonna had enough great singles in the 80s, but this was it. This was the one. 

7. "Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money") by Pet Shop Boys (1986)

I wish I could like Pet Shop Boys more than I do - sadly, each time I try to get into them, I end up liking the odd song rather than a whole album. "Opportunities" was, of course, synthpop par excellence. Choruses did not get much better than this in the 80s. Or ever.

6. "All You Ever Think About Is Sex" by Sparks (1983)

In Outer Space is one of Sparks' most underrated albums. "Please, Baby, Please", "Rockin' Girls" and "Dance Godammit" are all incredible, but it is the dumb-yet-oh-so-smart "All You Ever Think About Is Sex" that I have always loved the best. The lyrics from the opening verse are absolute Mael perfection. Sparks would get quite bad in the 80s but the fall did not happen here.

5. "Bizarre Love Triangle" by New Order (1986)

 

Can you think of a more perfect synthpop song?.. New Order had to be on this list, and while you may love your "Blue Monday" or "The Perfect Kiss", it is "Bizarre Love Triangle" that I consider their peak. The song is subtle and exhilarating at the same time. 

4. "Party Fears Two" by The Associates (1982) 

 

While the bizarre, wonderful "Tell Me Easter's On Friday" may be my favourite song by The Associates (and one of my favourite songs ever), "Party Fears Two" was their classic synthpop single. It was grandiose and epic and the detached vocals of Billy MacKenzie made it a typically otherworldly experience.  

3. "Say Hello, Wave Goodbye" by Soft Cell (1981)

I'd put the whole Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret album here if I could (surely the best pure synthpop album of all time), but if I had to choose one song I would probably go for this closing ballad which has a spellbinding melody and one of Marc Almond's most powerful vocal performances ever. 

2. "Living In Another World" by Talk Talk (1986)

So much for 1985 and 1986 being the worst years in music history. The Colour Of Spring was the album where Talk Talk began their transformation from just a synthpop band into post rock geniuses. "Living In Another World" goes on for seven minutes and remains completely captivating all the way through. And the details? The details are exquisite. That infectious harmonica break? Those subdued guitar bursts? Mark Hollis's subtle vocal intonations? Utter brilliance.

1. "Someone Somewhere (In Summertime)" by Simple Minds (1982)

I will be honest here: it is impossible for me to hear those 25 seconds at the start and not conclude that there is simply no competition here. This is the best song from the 80s. That synth line just kills me. And it certainly helps that the rest of the song is just as perfect. "Someone Somewhere" is a song that manages to be both ecstatic and impossibly sad at the same time. 

Album of the Month: ALL QUIET ON THE EASTERN ESPLANADE by The Libertines

If you love The Libertines of 20 years ago and your heart does not start pounding faster during the verse melody of "Run Run Run" (which did not impress me as a single but which is a perfect opener for this album), you are simply lying to yourself. Because this is it, plain and simple, the best album by The Libertines since Up The Bracket. 22 years, too. No small thing.

It is easy to sense how much craft and thought went into making this album. That said, it never feels overwrought, overbearing or overproduced. When they do the Swan Lake sample in the beautiful "Night of the Hunter", they sound clever rather than pretentious. 

To me, the pleasant surprise is definitely Carl Barât. While Peter Doherty never really lost it, Barât has done nothing of note in years. Well, he sounds completely rejuvenated here, and gives us tough, terrific rockers "Run Run Run", "Oh Shit" and (to a slightly lesser extent) the reggae-fied "Be Young". Brilliant hooks, great energy. Best of all is the swaggering "Mustangs" that features quirky lyrics and a truly cathartic coda. 

Doherty is in good form, too (I'm actually in the small minority that enjoyed the pastoral delights of his 2022 album The Fantasy Life of Poetry & Crime). Regardless of its Libertines-by-numbers title, "Merry Old England" is a lovely melodic ode to Britain, "I Have A Friend" is a brilliant rush of energy and the old outtake "Songs They Never Play On The Radio" wraps things up nicely, with a wistful tune and a few giggles. 

Only the fragile, folksy "Baron's Claw" and the aforementioned "Be Young" miss the mark slightly. Everything else is tight, engaging, tastefully ragged and filled with great songwriting. If you were looking for something else, you should not have bothered with The Libertines in the first place. 

April Round-Up

Somehow, this new single by Fontaines DC is all wrong. "Starburster" is a busy, well-realised song, with strong hooks and clever production, and yet each time that I listen to it I start thinking of fucking Kasabian. Merged with Massive Attack. With an ending lifted off some 90s ballad by Blur. Or Broadcast. I don't know. NME called it their most experimental song to date, but if that is so, then why does it sound like a heavier version of Gorillaz? I guess they crammed so much into one song, they ended up sounding like everyone else. Also, the rapped chorus comes off as ugly as that new album cover. 

Slightly disappointed with the new album by House Of All, too. Second time around they bring the style but not the tunes. And while I like the style, I can't find much to be excited about on Continuum beyond the upbeat "Aim Higher" and the murky, dreamy "Murmuration". The lyrics are mostly good but those genius bass lines by Steve Hanley are in very short supply.

Thank God for Einstürzende Neubauten. Their new album Rampen (apm: alien pop music) is as weird and stimulating as you would hope. Listen to them do the minimalist, experimental "Planet Umbra" and engage you into its primitive groove with Blixa Bargeld's smooth, silky vocal delivery. Even when they are disjointed they remain oddly appealing. As ever, with their clanks and clatters they take you to a dark and damp place that offers glimpses of somewhat uncomfortable beauty. 

On a completely different end of the spectrum, there was a new album by Mark Knopfler. With song titles like "Watch Me Gone", "Before My Train Comes" and "This One's Not Going To End Well", it all feels a little grim. Sonically, One Deep River is your usual well-behaved latterday Mark Knofler album with a tired voice you have long learned to love. The hook in "Two Pairs Of Hands" is as familiar as it is irresistible. 

Connla's Wall is a new EP from the Manchester band Maruja that occupy a post-punk world inhabited by other British contemporaries like Squid and Black Country, New Road. With their adventurous instrumentation (lots of alto saxophone) and charismatic sound, they may end up as big as those two I have mentioned above. The intense, swirling "The Invisible Man" towers above everything else here and I can sense some production issues, but this is excellent stuff. The last instrumental is just beautiful. 

Finally, I still do not understand what it is about Vampire Weekend that does not quite sit well with me. The easy answer would be Ezra Koenig's fey vocal mannerisms but there is more to it. That "Classical" riff, for instance, just gives me headache. That said, I see no problem with Only God Was Above Us being one of the most celebrated albums of the year (many already call it the best album of 2024). It is inventive, diverse and well-written, and I can get behind the pretty "Hope" that closes the album, but otherwise I'm left slightly annoyed and mildly amused.

Songs of the month:

"The Invisible Man" - Maruja

"I Have a Friend" - The Libertines

"Reaching Out" - Beth Gibbons

"Aim Higher" - House of All

"Le Silence" - Juniore

"Hope" - Vampire Weekend

The Necks in Warsaw, 19.04

Now that I have finally seen them live, I know for certain: these three are the only three musicians in the world who could be doing what they are doing. While this may not be a unique thought, I had never felt it as strongly as I did last week in Warsaw. The degree of idiosyncratic chemistry, of sheer professionalism, was such that any tiny moment of distraction on my part seemed like a terrible waste of time.

A Necks live performance does not feature too many songs. This night in the grand but intimate setting of the Concert Studio of Polish Radio they played two extended hour-long pieces separated by a brief intermission. Famously, a live piece by The Necks starts as a very quiet, minimalist, jazzy piano melody augmented by a subtle drum roll and a barely audible bass line. It is fragile and slightly unnerving but also hypnotic. This initial groove never really goes away. Rather, it grows in intensity and acquires new details, constantly, over the next thirty minutes or so. These details are sometimes very slight but let your thoughts take you away for a short while and you will suddenly notice that the groove is much wilder now, and fuller, and louder. Look closer, and you will see that the double bass is currently being played with a huge bow.

                                                                                                   photo: Krystyna Kubacka-Góral

There will be many twists and turns before we reach the ending but to me the most exciting bit is this lengthy denouement, the part when they start to unwind and deconstruct the groove. All of a sudden, there is a new beauty that you had previously missed. Slowly but assuredly, the music begins to subside while never giving up any of its insane technicality. The groove is just as tight as ever. The groove is totally controlled, and I cannot even begin to imagine how much stamina it all requires from the musicians. Actually, the final few minutes reminded me of a story I once read about The Who's shows in the late 1970s. During one of those, Keith Moon passed out onstage due to drugs or alcohol and they had to find a replacement in the audience. A young drummer climbed onto the stage and managed to hold the beat for a song or two before succumbing to exhaustion. Well, I can't imagine anyone doing a minute of this Necks stuff. It is totally breathless. 

The New York Times once called The Necks the most powerful trio in the world, and while I have always loved these Australians (hard to say how many times I must have heard LPs like Hanging Gardens or Aether), it took this live performance to really drive home the point. I do not know how much of it is improvisation (I'm guessing none of it) but the whole thing sounds incredibly tight and professional. Interestingly, while technically this is quite impeccable, there is an emotional substance to them. Sooner or later, the beauty gets through. Genre-wise, what they do is mostly jazz but there are also distinct rock and classical overtones. Speaking of the latter, some of the elegant piano lines reminded me of classical minimalists like Satie or Debussy. 

Admittedly, I often treat The Necks as great background music for writing (again, it would be hard to say how many pages I have written listening to Three during the Covid times) - they have this tight, driving rhythm that rarely gets in the way of your thinking. However, seeing these three ordinary-looking men take the places on that vast, empty stage (occupied by nothing but their instruments) created a new sensation in me. They had my undivided attention, and they held it all the way through. There was a lovely complexity to their music, but there was also something greatly appealing about it. Breathlessly, I spent the whole evening watching how effortlessly they go from quiet and unobtrusive to wild and absolutely mind-blowing. A once in a lifetime experience, and quite unlike anything I had ever seen. 

Godspeed You! Black Emperor in Warsaw, 14.04

How many crescendos can you take in one evening?

Quite a lot, as it turns out. When Godspeed You! Black Emperor got into the last crescendo of the night, that of "The Sad Mafioso", I had a strong feeling that I could take on the devil. Drained both physically and emotionally, I suddenly realised that I was getting locked into some endless loop together with the band and the audience (a loop as haunting and breathtaking as the one that ends the vinyl version of their debut). It was a great feeling. It was, too, all you ever wanted from a live concert. 

And "The Sad Mafioso" was not even the last performance of the night. Miraculously, GY!BE did something they almost never do. They performed a song as an encore: "Moya", the side-long classic from their Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada EP. Another crescendo, then, and I distinctly remember breathing out, heavily, at the very end. My stomach was cramped and too much tension had stuffed my chest.

That the concert of Godspeed You! Black Emperor in the Warsaw club Progresja ended up being one of the three or four best in my life was hardly shocking. The Canadian band is known for the intense grandiosity of their live performances. Unsurprisingly, it was every bit as good as I had hoped it would be. Efrim Menuck and the rest (GY!BE are an eight-piece live, including no less than two drummers) built it all up, again and again, the songs smouldered and evolved, and by the end of it a young guy in front of me was contorting ecstatically on the floor. 

Basically, what you get from them in concert is their studio recordings - albeit expanded and amplified. Live, you are able to inhabit them, not just listen. You see them mine noise from beauty and beauty from noise. You can see Sophie Trudeau doing endless bow-runs on her violin. You can smell the fucking chords. It is aural bliss. Visual, too, as each piece is accompanied by a huge screen with obscure, jittery projections of flowers blooming, buildings burning and an old man dancing. There is also, at the very beginning, the word "hope" as they slowly but intently get you into the right kind of mood with the eerily beautiful warm-up drone. 

Last night, they did a piece each from Lift Your Skinny Fists, F♯ A♯ ∞, G_d's Pee at State's End! and Slow Riot. They also did three new songs from the upcoming album (still unannounced). And it all went for more than two exhausting hours, which is something I cannot quite explain. What is it about the Polish audience that makes Nick Cave play "The Weeping Song" for the first and only time during a tour? That makes GY!BE play for 30+ minutes longer in Warsaw than they did the previous night in Vilnius? And do an encore, too, a thing almost unheard of during their concerts? That said, there may have been a hint dropped during "The Sad Mafioso" when, totally unexpectedly, Polish audience started to sing along to an especially haunting section of the song. I guess this could not go unnoticed.

I have always believed that great art happens when everything else ceases to matter - all you are left with is a canvas, or a melody. Which is what happened last night, while Godspeed You! were playing in Warsaw. The world died, and all that mattered was this particular live performance. The world died, and it was like you were inhabiting the words that famously start F♯ A♯ ∞: "The car is on fire, and there is no driver at the wheel...". And what a sweet death that is.