Technicolour Dream Cats: In Praise of Love and Rockets

A friend introduced me to Love and Rockets (the band, not the comic) in 1985. I was well aware of Bauhaus. I knew they'd broken up two years before, but didn't know that three-quarters had spun off into this psych-rock outfit. It was love at first listen. On The Seventh Dream of Teenage Heaven, Daniel Ash's Brit-inflected vocals and Mick Ronson strumming merge with Joy Division keyboard-playing (for which all receive credit) and the majestic drumming of Kevin Haskins, who pounds out a rolling, thundering, but never overpowering beat.

Back in the mid-1980s, I purchased most music on cassette. I didn't pick up this recording on CD until a few days ago. It sounds as good as I remember, although I prefer the original blue artwork (especially since albums two and three were red and white). Aside from the original nine tracks, there are four singles and two remixes. The former includes their 12-inch version of "Ball of Confusion" (the Temptations), the first L&R release. I love the trio's glam-tastic take on the track, but it's quite different from the rest of the disc, which sounds more like Echo and the Bunnymen covering the Moody Blues (the group has also name-checked Roxy Music and the Jesus and Mary Chain, analogies that hold up).

In picking up the 2000 remaster, I came across bass player/vocalist David J's liner notes (he is, incidentally, Kevin's brother), which describe the band better than I ever could, so I reproduce a portion here. Some might dub his prose "purple." Maybe so, but he perfectly captures L&R's exotic-yet-accessible early essence through his colorful turn of phrase.



1985 and a change of style. New clothes, different hats and, embroidered on our sleeves, all the influences previously locked up in a box marked "unshared treasure."

As our former co-provocateur, one Mr. Murphy, was not complicit in our cult of rabid enthusiasm for all things psychedelic, that particular potent genie was kept bottled up and only occasionally made manifest in spectral wisps of green vapour within the sepulchral locale of the castle Bauhaus. Once that dark entity had called it a night however, then the technicolour dream cat was free to burst from the bag. Consequently, we three found ourselves delighting in the exploration of the flora and fauna of a strange chimera
haunted jungle, resplendent with night blooming flowers dripping with opiated sound.

At the heart of this midsummer night's dream, a Puck in the form of that fragile visionary, Syd Barrett. A shooting star, we followed in the wake of his dazzling flare. With Bolan as our Oberon and the psychedelic Beatles our Titania, casting spells
to call home, we wake to dream.

Anchor to this heady flight, a world weary sardonic attitude
(see "The Game" and "The Dog-end of a Day Gone By").
Here the acid drenched brew is cut with humour of
the desert-dry and arch variety.



Though the group kept going for 14 more years--outlasting the mothership by almost a decade--I lost interest long before. I was living in England in 1986, when L&R released Express, which I loved. (I also got to see them live and, separately, Peter Murphy solo.) Their mainstream breakthrough arrived with the 1987 single "No New Tale to Tell," which I quite liked (the surrealistic video, too), but Earth, Sun, Moon seemed like a step back, and 1989's more rock-oriented Love and Rockets was the nail in the coffin. Time to call it a day, boys. Ironically, "So Alive" turned out to be their biggest hit and was followed by three more albums.

I give up on a lot of artists around the time of their third long-player, but that's when many lose momentum. The record in question may make for a pleasant enough listen, but if it isn't as strong as the previous two, that's often a warning sign (mediocrity ahead!). Still, two great albums is better than one. A few naff lyrics aside ("Throw the world off your shoulder tonight, Mr. Smith"), The Seventh Dream of Teenage Heaven is a great album.



Endnote: Image from the AMG, video from YouTube. (You know it doesn't hurt that Ash is kind of sexy in that video; it isn't just about knowing how to sing or play, it's about knowing how to move.) And while I'm at it: Long live the Bubblemen!

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Reason #486 to Love Gnarls Barkley

I'm listening to the record as I type. I didn't plan it that way, but it's the most addictive concoction of the year. Come to think of it, I should probably stop singing its praises. Like me, you may have a hard time extracting it from your player, so as to give something else a chance. Or maybe not. Maybe Danger and Cee-Lo, as Wayne and Garth [right], already have enough fans. After all, they pulled "Crazy" from the UK after they figured it had sufficiently penetrated the British psyche. When's the last time a band made a move designed to curtail sales? It doesn't happen, and it's not as if the song was controversial. Just overplayed. And it isn't even the strongest track on St. Elsewhere. So, what is? I dunno. My opinion changes daily. For now, it's "Who Cares"...



Note: Image from the Gnarls Barkley MySpace Page, video from YouTube. Props to Mario Van Peebles, who could've camped his way through this Blaxploitation-tinged Hammer Horror, but instead invests his Vamp with a little--dare I say it--humanity.

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Bees, Ducks, and Other (Cinematic) Delights

I realize it makes me the world's biggest geek, but I write down every film I see. And I've been doing so for years. Otherwise, I won't remember, and I need all the help I can get as I participate in an annual countdown. I also compile a personal top 30--the Axman's party only requires 10 titles--so it helps to have a master list from which to work.

This weekend, I hit the big 250, so it seems like a good time to bring my favorites to light. I've arranged them in chronological order, since I won't be doing any actual organizing until late-December/early-January. Also, I still haven't seen some of the year's most critically acclaimed movies, like Babel and Inland Empire. Nonetheless, I've used bold to indicate the 20 entries, including re-releases, most likely to make it onto my top 30.

To save space, I present the following with only the occasional editorial comment, although I've provided links when available.

*****

A Good Woman, The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, The Intruder, Sophie Scholl : The Final Days (should've won the Oscar for best foreign film over Tsotsi), Dave Chappelle's Block Party (y'all slept on this one--for shame!), Thank You for Smoking, Duck Season (see Dave Chapelle comment), Inside Man (Spike's biggest box office opening ever!), The Devil and Daniel Johnston, Friends With Money (I preferred it to Lovely and Amazing...guess I'm in the minority), Spirit of the Beehive, Mouchette, Innocence (for the final sequence alone), Classes Tous Risques, Sketches of Frank Gehry (some dismissed this as a puff piece; they might want to take another look), Pusher II: With Blood on My Hands (for Mads Mikkelson alone), I:I, C.R.A.Z.Y., Art School Confidential (see Dave Chappelle comment), Quinceañera, The House of Sand (watched it twice; it holds up), Who Killed the Electric Car? (see previous comment), The Proposition (yes!!!), The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, Old Joy, We Go Way Back, Sa-Kwa (for Moon So-ri alone), Lunacy, Wristcutters - A Love Story (please ignore the crappy title), 13/Tzameti, Brothers of the Head, Starfish Hotel, 49 Up, Linda Linda Linda (yes yes yes), Heading South, Who Is Harry Nilsson (and Why Is Everybody Talkin' About Him)?, Backstage, The Science of Sleep, Gravehopping, Time to Leave, Jonestown: The Life and Death of People's Temple, Russian Dolls, The Devil Wears Prada (because I'm nuts!), Superman Returns (see previous comment), A Scanner Darkly, Lemming, Army of Shadows, Leonard Cohen: I'm Your Man (for Cohen, natch), Half Nelson, Idlewild (see Dave Chappelle comment), Burn to Shine: Portland, The Queen, and last but far from least, The Departed (Scorsese's back--as with Spike, his best opening ever).



Endnote: And there you have it. Note that Michael Mann and Clint Eastwood didn't make the cut. Miami Vice and Flags of Our Fathers have their charms, but failed to move me as much as Collateral or Million Dollar Baby. Then again, I'm still tossing Flags around in my mind; it may well be a grower. Images from my photo gallery: Spirit of the Beehive, Romain Duris (Russian Dolls), Dave Chappelle's Block Party, and Half Nelson.

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Been Caught Stealing

Stefy, The Orange Album, Wind-up/Sony

I put off playing this CD for the longest time because the packaging is so slick and anonymous. Well, I kind of like it--but for all the wrong reasons. First of all, the music is just as slick as the cover art (see below). To quote the Digable Planets, "It's slicker than grease." What I like is that it brings me back to my high school days. Not to the music I was actually listening to at the time, like the Talking Heads and the Police, but to the music I couldn't quite get away from, like Pet Benatar, Missing Persons, and Berlin.

In other words, Stefy Rae Eustace--how's that for a name--has a powerful set of pipes. She's a petite dark-haired beauty with an ever-present groan in her voice, as if every note is a strain. Benatar and Berlin's Terri Nunn share this quality. It's like a cross between a sexual come-on and a severe case of constipation. And it's exactly why I prefer Joan Jett. She just belts it out.

If you take this formula into a higher register and add some Betty Boop sound effects, you get former Playboy Bunny Dale Bozzio of LA's Missing Persons and Christina Amphlett of Australia's the Divinyls, who even dressed like a Catholic school girl--in the band's early days--and is best known to American audiences for 1991's "I Touch Myself." Everyone repeat after me: Ugh.

Well, Stefy's lyrics aren't quite that cringe-inducing, but it's pretty clichéd stuff. In "Orange County," the strongest track, Eustace references Jay-Z, Gwen Stefani, TiVo, and "prepaid AT&T." It's as if she wants to remind us--maybe even herself--that it's the 2000s, but those Thomas Dolby keyboards say otherwise. And to open the album by quoting the synth line from "Sweet Dreams Are Made of This"? That says it all. Incidentally, Greg Kurstin (the Bird and the Bee, Lily Allen) co-wrote "Cover Up" and "Chelsea." Other name contributors include Tom Lord-Alge, who mixed the disc, and Graeme Revell, who arranged the strings on "Lucky Girl."

So, I tried to hate this record, and Stefy gave me every reason to follow through on my intentions, but The Orange Album inspires images of leg warmers, big hair, Top Gun, John Hughes movies, and cheesy MTV videos. I don't necessarily miss the 1980s, but whenever I'm reminded of that era's silliest by-products, I can't resist a smile. In other words: Not guilty by reason of insanity. I'll leave it up to you to decide whether I mean myself or the band.



Note: Images from the official Stefy website.

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If You're Feeling Sinister

Stars of Track and Field, Centuries Before Love and War, Sidecho/Wind-up

If you're feeling sinister, you've
come to the wrong place. If, on the other hand, you're experiencing a
rush of blood to the head...

With a name like Stars of Track and Field, I was expecting Belle and Sebastian-like indie pop. Well, the Low-meets-Keane sound this Portland combo conjures up isn't a world away, but there's more feedback and electronic effects than their moniker would indicate.

I use the word pleasant too much, but it's the first one that springs to mind. Centuries Before Love and War is competent and tuneful. Augmented by producer Tony Lash (Elliot Smith) on guitar and keys, the trio sounds like they know what they're doing, and there's nothing obviously "wrong" with this disc. But while it's too dynamic to qualify as bland, it isn't that exciting either.



Centuries, their full-length debut, follows 2005 EP You Came Here for Sunset Last Year (these cats dig wordy titles). It's a perfectly respectable effort. There's nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about--either as band member or listener--but that's part of the problem. There's no apparent risk going on either.

This recording is too safe, too smooth, and too indistinct for me to recommend in good conscience. I wouldn't count the threesome out, though. I passed on the Fray, too, and look at them now. It's too soon to say whether "Say Hello" will go the way of Grey's Anatomy anthem "How to Save a Life," but KEXP has been giving the dream-pop bauble plenty of play, so you never know.



Endnote: In case you've ever wondered, I review every album that comes my way--as long as I don't actively hate it. This includes CDs sent from out of the blue, like the one above, as well as titles purchased for myself, like Tales of the Forgotten Melodies. Initially, I only covered records about which I was enthusiastic, but from time to time, I'll continue to review those that don't make as much of an impact. By the way, I love If You're Feeling Sinister. And I have a soft spot for A Rush of Blood to the Head--much as it pains me to admit it. Image from the AMG.

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The Doors of Perception

Evanescence, The Open Door, Wind-up/Sony

This is probably the first and last time I'll write about a #1 record on this site. I've always been more interested in music that's off the beaten path. I doubt that will ever change. Long story short, I was asked to review The Open Door, then the offer was rescinded. Since Wind-up Records was kind enough to send me the CD, even after I let them know it was no longer necessary, I figure the least I can do is listen.

Over the years, Evanescence has been labeled both Christian and Gothic. Joy Division and Bauhaus aside, I'm a fan of neither genre, but I'm not so sure it matters. I hear more hard rock--hard piano rock, that is--on the follow-up to major label debut Fallen than anything else (that album went platinum six times over, sold 14 million copies, and garnered two Grammys). It's kind of like Sarah MacLachlan gone metal, if that makes any sense.

In the liner notes, the quartet gives shout-outs to the late Layne Staley (Alice in Chains) and Darrell "Dimebag" Abbott (Pantera), so I don't think the metal thing is all in my head. Ben Sisario, in The New York Times, describes Evanescence as a "vaguely gothic, vaguely metal band led by the elaborately coutured Amy Lee." And John LeCompt, bringer of the heavy riffs, thanks "Pastor Perry and Family Church" and "My Saviour Jesus Christ."

That's about as Christian as The Open Door gets. It doesn't mean the foursome isn't religious, but their music sounds secular. I scanned the beautifully designed lyric booklet and found more Gothic than Christian imagery, although I suppose that's a matter of perspective. In "Sweet Sacrifice," for instance, Lee sings of "burning ashes" that "blacken the day." Then in "Lithium," she reveals a desire to "stay in love with my sorrow." There's even--shades of Siouxsie--a song called "Lacrymosa." Somehow I doubt Amy Grant will be covering it anytime soon.

As I suspected, Evanescence isn't for me. Granted, I haven't heard Fallen or Origin, the demo that got the Arkansas group signed, but I doubt they'd change my mind (the line-up has altered since 1998, but I understand the basic sound has not). That said, I now have a little insight into their popularity. The Open Door has all the crunch of metal and the darkness of Goth combined with the melody and introspection of folk-pop. If that's what "the people" want, I can't really blame them. But nor can I join them.



Endnote: Programming provided by DJ Lethal...of the House of Pain. Lee thanks him for giving the record "spooky, sexy thump!" Lethal was the one non-Irish member of the LA rap trio, but he did his bit to make Gaelic hip-hop a reality. For that, he has my respect. Images from the official Evanescence website.

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No Waxy Buildup

Wax Tailor, Tales
of the Forgotten
Melodies, Decon

JC Le Saoût (La Formule) is a French DJ with a jones for vintage jazz and film noir, so I was expecting something akin to St. Germain. On his 2005 debut Tales of the Forgotten Melodies, issued Stateside earlier this year, that's what I got. Although the former hip-hop producer is less enamored with house and acid jazz than Germain's Ludovic Navarre, both downtempo denizens have much love for the flute (I share their affection). Granted, Le Saoût opts for movie/television samples over blues/R&B samples, but the neon-lit nightclub-meets-designer boutique vibe is similar.

As with DJ Shadow, circa Entroducing, or sartorial soul brother Moby, circa Play, these English clips make up the bulk of the vocals, although there are a few guests, like Charlotte Savary and the Others. To my ears, Savary sounds a lot like Beth Gibbons (and Le Saoût doesn't deny a debt to Portishead's cinematic sounds).


"Hypnosis Theme" (R-rated video alert!)

Sampled artists, meanwhile, include Doris Day, Woody Allen, Nina Simone, Keye Luke, and Q-Tip. The latter appears on "Between Fellows," in which Le Saoût strings together excerpts from dozens of rap recordings. As his biography puts it, the Kubrick aficianado "uses samples in his music as film directors use actors." Of course, Le Saoût isn't really directing these performances as much as he's editing them, but I can appreciate the analogy.

On the basis of Tales of the Forgotten Melodies, Le Saoût hasn't found his voice yet--there's a lot going on here--but he's filled his first long-player with so many strangely soothing sounds, I just can't deny it. Recommended to fans of the Avalanches and Alfred Hitchcock...and how many records can you say that about?





Endnote: Instead of commissioning a new score, Coline Serreau retrofitted St. Germain's Tourist for the soundtrack to Chaos, one of my favorite films of 2003 (for those who admired Michael Hanecke's Caché, Serreau takes a more female-centric approach to similar material). Tourist's propulsive rhythms elevate the entire scenario, especially the bravura opening sequence--a slow-motion car crash--which sets the complex story in motion.

For more information about Wax Tailor, please see his official website. Among his influences, Le Saoût cites composers Bernard Herrmann, Ennio Morricone, Jerry Goldsmith, and Serge Gainsbourg. Image from Listening Pearls, video from YouTube.

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