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Music Toes - by Alexander Hine

 
Here are my strange and, perhaps, unfair and irrational views on music and its practitioners. As a musician myself I am passionate and obsessive about music in all its forms. As a writer I am dogmatic, rhetorical, polemical and unfair to my subjects. But that's just journalism.

Song Reviews, 2nd Edition

Well, it’s been longer than a week…but before you criticise me, recall that I really don’t care what you have to say. Well, a busy boy I’ve been – what with trying to find gainful employment, struggling to keep my sanity as the government rolls out one stupid paternalistic, mummying, shitkicking law after another and staring at visions of clouds tremulous perched on the horizon of the world. Despite these and other setbacks I have assembled another collection of songs, both esoteric and mainstream, over which to drool for your amusement and gratification. Bing.

1. Bombs Over Baghdad, Outkast, from Stankonia


Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. This song changed all my thinking on rap, before hearing this epic hip-hop expedition I thought all rap was stilted, boring, misogynistic, soulless, dirgelike crap. But this is a masterpiece of joy and energy despite it’s serious themes - everything is perfect, from the echoing bass drum to the funk guitar to the gospel choir to the wickedfast synth riffs and the distorted keyboards. The track has a deceptive opening, with little bells preparing you for a lullaby, but this illusion shatters very quickly under a verbal assault from Andre 3000. The chorus is catchy and backed up by funk, scratched, wah wah guitar. Big Boi’s rap has a different feel to 3000’s, it starts sparse and slowly builds, with a devilishly quick staccato synth line and the re-introduction of the distorted keys from the first verse. The lyrics are fantastic: a diversity of subject matter and rhythmic word play. After the second chorus we are even treated to an extended guitar solo, gospel singing and then a dirty rock/rap interlude before the whole thing turns into a jam on “Ha-ho music electric revival” and funks and crunks into the sunset.

Get hold of a car (by ANY means necessary) take it to the highway, hit 120 and turn this up very, very loud.

2. Speigel Im Spiegel, Arvo Part, from Alina

If there were a music of the spheres, if there was some song that the dying heard to draw them into heaven, or a lullaby sung by angels to newborns, this would be it. I really can’t describe the feeling of light, sad perfection that listening to this song creates throughout the entire body. It is only a piano and a cello, the melody is simple, as is the accompaniment and yet, somehow, Arvo Part creates a whole world with this piece. Listen to it on good headphones anywhere, anytime – you will see the world transfigured.
I am an atheist most of the time but, while I’m listening to this piece, there is a God.

3. My Detractors, The Black Swans of Trespass, from Duttigalla Exile

The Black Swans of Trespass are a blend of bluegrass, funk and reggae, with vocals similar to Tom Waits. Led by the very tall CC Thornley, they are a very unique band making their gritty way around the Melbourne music scene. In My Detractors, Thornley revels in the promised pleasure that his own failures will bring to his enemies. The song is very danceable with jazzy drums, bluegrass banjo and stabbing guitar. Thornley’s vocals are at their Armstrong/Waits/Throatgrowl best and the lyrics are bitter and funny, my favourite line being “Oh my vultures, oh my vultures, won’t you pick up your knife and fork and carve yourself a portion while we’re sippin’ our wine and we’re talking.” The song also features a tasty double bass solo, melodically plucked – despite a few minor dud notes. The banjo and guitar trade some nice melodic solos too. This is a good song to chuck on after one too many wines with the windows open and your dancing shoes on.

4. Sun Is Shining, Bob Marley and the Wailers, from One Love: The Very Best of Bob Marley and the Wailers

I have never been hugely into reggae. Too much homophobia, religious fanaticism and overly positive songs for me. This made me very unpopular with all my lefty/hippie/stoned friends and so I gave the old Bob Marley a try. This song really stopped me in my tracks and got me to rethink reggae. I’m still not a huge fan, but I see the virtues now, and this song still gives me shivers. There is something haunting and passionate in the descending chords, the slight dischords, the feeling of celebration, but also sadness. The vocals are spot on and, personally, I find that the gentle groove of the band taps into something deep within my brain, closes my eyes, and takes me to heaven. The guitar is soulful, the organ well placed, the percussion inventive, the harmonies natural. This is reggae with a difference – I can’t explain why, but it will always be the one Bob Marley song I really care about
Just get stoned and listen to it.

5. Stickshifts and Safety Belts, Cake, from Fashion Nuggett

Rockabilly Cake style! A fantastic protest song against road safety, easily understood by us poor oppressed Aussie’s with our seatbelt laws. The singer laments “Stickshifts and safety belts, bucket seats have all got to go when I’m driving in the car they make my baby feel so far.” This song is perfect for parties and breakfast-time, the thumping arpeggio bass and the slick rockabilly guitar make this a real feel-good song. The harmonies are great too, with those lovely high whiny notes we’ve all come to associate with the best hick music around. Oh, and I nearly forget the drumming: very reminiscent of Johnny Cash if his music took speed – a fast paced, rock solid freight train of a drum line.
A great pick-up for any time of the day, you’ll never get it out of your head and you’ll have even more trouble wiping the smile off your face.

6. Smokey Mountain Lullaby, Chet Atkins and Tommy Emmanuel, from The Day Fingerpickers Took Over the World, composed by Chet Atkins

This might sound like a bad thing, but it’s not: this track is perfect to fall asleep to. The two guitar masters interweave their melody and harmony lines with a simple string arrangement. They take perfect solos – simple, aching, haunting – in which virtuosity is put aside for a mastery of the simple melody, the perfect cadence.
If you have kids, fool them into bedtime with this one, it’s sweet, relaxing and perfectly realised.

7. Rudie Can’t Fail, The Clash, from London Calling

There are good reasons for people to idolise The Clash, and this song is one of them. It opens with the classic line “How’d ya get so rude and reckless, thought you’d be so crude and feckless, sipping chicken brew for breakfast” – or something like that, it’s a bit hard to tell, but I don’t care because it’s surrounded by one of the more dynamic bands I’ve ever heard. The band have a motley sound, but somehow also sound incredibly tight – the drums follow the feel of the song perfectly, the brass pops and wails, and several vocalists muck around and improvise, giving the song a genuine party feel.
Joints, wine, volume, singalong, dance – a good song for that state in between drunk and puking when all you want to do is laugh, sing and make ludicrous pledges of love to the moon.

8. Do You Realize?? (Remix), The Flaming Lips, from Fight Test (Single)

Ah, The Flaming Lips. This is a great remix – part Flaming Lips weirdness, part clichéd house beats. The remix retains the dreamy ethereal quality of the original, but adds something more to it. The driving beat, thumping on every crotchet gives a new urgency to the song’s message of immanent beauty and mystery – “Do you realize that you have the most beautiful face?” – “Do you realize that everyone you know someday will day?” There’s not much else I can say about this song, I find it very beautiful and I can’t stop listening to it long enough to write, just buy it and listen to it and write the review yourself.

9. Vitr, Yellow Sisters, from Singalana
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Yellow Sisters are a four-piece a Capella group from (I think) Czechoslovakia. As well as being gorgeous one and all, they are very talented. Vitr is a tapestry of interacting voices, listening to it is similar to sitting at the centre of a beautiful storm – you can’t really decipher what’s going on around you, but it is stunning to witness. Throughout the song there is a solo line accompanied by lilting harmonies and increasingly percussive syllabic sounds. As the song reaches its peak the rhythmic voices become faster and more urgent, and start to break off from the main harmonies and rhythms into a frantic rising semi-quaver pattern in close harmony. At it’s climax the song dissolves into a hypnotic burst of jagged sound spray, that feels as if it comes from the primeval belly of an African desert tribe, long lost to the sands of time. By this point you should be floating through a dimension of space dissimilar in every way to supermarkets. I wish you luck navigating the waves therein, and we will meet again some sunny day.

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Charlie Smyles and the Smyles (LINK)

Bender Bar, Northcote,
4/4/2008


A quote from Rumi came to me in an SMS just now:

He was asked once what to do about a young man doing some indecent act:

Rumi told them not to worry about it. “It just means he’s growing feathers. The dangerous case is a child who doesn’t engage in indecent acts, who then leaves the nest without feathers. One flap and the act has him.


I chuckled as I read it, and felt a blessing descend on my evening, and evening in which I go to see the mysterious Charlie Smyles play at the Bender Bar. I have met Charlie a few times previously, and I find him an intriguing character. I imagine him a man of moods, flights of strange mania and dark rifts of melancholy. But these are only inferences from a few short, drugged encounters in which I have discussed with him Nick Cave, Tom Waits, and the excellence of his dress sense.
On the tram ride to the city, I saw an entire tree torn up and dumped over the fence of a terrace house on Flinder’s Street. Wreckage from the 130km and hour winds that tore through the city only days before, turning the braches of otherwise picturesque trees into blunt and deadly weapons – threatening at every moment to fall and crush flat the tender, pink brains of any one of the stream of accountants, bankers, whores, children and hobos who passed below…
The Bender Bar was quiet when I arrived, just a handful of patrons murmuring quietly around an empty bar. I took a few photos while I waited for the barman to finish his smoke – the Bender is a dimly lit, cosy bar, illuminated entirely by soft pink and yellow lamps at odd angles. At the rear, one of the walls features a massive, almost frightening, wall-hanging showing a grotty Asian boy (Tibetan, maybe) in festive, traditional garb – blowing a pink bubble of gum from his dirt-stained lips. Quite intriguing.
Having bought my wine, I was driven outside by a change in music – All Tomorrow’s Parties: a song that might have been okay if it weren’t so leadenly sung by the sexless and lobotomised voice of Nico – and ran into Charlie, shrouded in a 1930’s style coat and hat and a nightmare of an op-shop tie. Finally, the judgements could fly thick as arrows through the night.
It turned out that this was not a simple gig. Instead it involved poetry readings, Djs, several solo artists and a cheesy-as-fuck Jim Morrison based poster, which informed us that this was Feast of Friends featuring Scarlett Cooke, Mild Sparrow, Queeny Cups, Charlie Smyles, spoken word by Kris Allison and DJ Zaziz. I had been tricked, hoodwinked, and I was in no mood for such a variegated and potentially tedious assembly, thank sweet Zombie Jesus Charlie was up first.
Smyles was accompanied by some every fine saxophone, I will get that out of the way now by saying that it perfectly complemented the songs with smooth and tasteful blues lines – a great combination. On to the songs. The first was a standout, with lyrics about gypsies, women and heartache, sung in a voice and style reminiscent of early Tom Waits records. The tortured refrain – “some things should be left unsaid” – held beautifully aloft by a simple chord progression, splashes with flurries of blues licks. The fourth and last songs were also particularly good, being a strange, slow, dreamy, haunting version of Summertime melting out of a Fur Elise introduction and the infectiously singable and distinctly Melbournian Last Tram Home, respectively.
The entire set was of a high calibre: Smyles is an honest performer who seems genuinely committed to his art, both lyrically and musically, which lends his better songs a moving and, at times, spine tingling quality. In some songs the vocal line became overshadowed by the piano and sax (but this may have had something to do with the bad sound system obscuring many of the lyrics) and the connecting dialogue between songs was often mumbled to the point of obscurity (a notable exception being Smyles’ desperate plea, “Please buy my CD, I need sales. I wouldn’t say this if I wasn’t broke” – that was crystal clear). But these are minor criticisms, having as much to do with the speakers and the mix as with Smyles’ occasionally stock melodies and nonchalant stage presence.
If I permit myself one criticism of Smyles that is more fundamental, and I do, it is that he wears his influences a little too much on his sleeve for my taste. Smyles has grown many feathers but, perhaps, not yet left the nest. That is: the songs are good, the chops are solid, he sings well, he writes well – it’s all there and yet, for me, his music lacks a certain completeness. As if Smyles’ influences - of which I’ll hazard a guess Tom Waits is the biggest - have not been fully absorbed and worked into a unique style but, instead, hover above the style and the songwriting as unattainable spectres of perfection.
Then again, maybe that’s just the beer and stimulants talking. Smyles is undoubtedly an artist to watch – he has talent as a performer and a composer, he has soul, a great voice and an impeccable dress sense. Check him out, and for God’s sake buy his CD – the man’s broke!



When the set ends I move outside and start writing in the present tense. Queeny Cups is up next and I observe her discreetly as I talk with Charlie, drink my Agwa, and smoke other people’s tobacco. Queeny Cups reminds me of Joni Mitchell, but without the great woman’s grace or genius. Queeny’s songs have a jagged beauty about them – schizoid chord progressions, powerful voice, interesting lyrics – but let’s face it: they’re far too strange for a teeny-bopper like me. And, anyway, at this point my mind is drifting from music to civil chaos and the terrifying implications of the universe’s disorder.
-At any moment the bombs could fall, the sun implode, the asteroids shred us, the abyss devour us. Our existence is a pale flower perched above the churning flame of the gods’ maniacal designs. Let us pray each day that we waste no time praying.

Keep listening, eat some good pasta and please, please leave the Chinese alone, it’s just the Olympics.

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Song Reviews - First Edition

I’ve decided that, in the fine tradition of narcissism that pervades the internet, I will share with you, each week, reviews of 10 of my favourite songs. From all eras, genres and etcetera. Hopefully you will find them enjoyable and, perhaps, I will even point you towards something new that delights you and causes you to send me fragrant gifts through the outdated “solidmail” system that some of us still cherish.

1. It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue, as performed by Van Morrison on the Basquiat soundtrack, originally composed by Bob Dylan
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Twelve Tone Diamonds, Bar Open, Fitzroy - Friday 28th of March, 2008 (LINK)

With a highly worrying look in his eye, Doug tramped through the glass he had so expertly shattered on the twinkling pavement and produced a small lightbulb from his pocket. All at once the burn on my finger took its appointed place in a series of swiftly remembered events, which had almost ended in catastrophe.
But before we get to that, the beginning. We, Aaron, Doug and I, had decided on the psychedelic, Zappa-esque Twelve Tone Diamonds for our Friday night foray into Fitzroy on the strength of their excellent “New Twin”, which we mumbled about enthusiastically whilst ravaging with tooth and tongue the shank of a young lamb, slaughtered beyond the bounds of our experience. A band such as the Diamonds are best appreciated through the lens of a certain mindset. This set of mind we achieved with a finely balanced mix of abstract violence, guarana, cocoa-leaf liqueur, cheap red wine, fruity lexia* and 10 jugs of Carlton Draught. Having ingested the second and third items on this list, we set off with a bottle of the fifth along the tram lines of this fine and degraded city of Melbourne.
The gig in question was taking place at 'Bar Open' in Fitzroy, host to many musical delights, where I had, the previous Friday, witnessed with joy the trombonist from The Bone Palace Orchestra Really Long Link climbing the walls and swinging from the aircon system fifteen feet above the audience, causing me to scream uncontrollably "Swing wider, further! Swing harder!" But anyway, the Twelve Tone Diamonds had already started playing when we arrived, so we settled in with our beer and examined them. They were something quite spectacular to behold. Comprising seven members who play drums, bass, guitar, an array of percussion, whistle, alto sax, tenor sax and their voice-boxes variously, Twelve Tone Diamonds are essentially a jam band, sounding at times very much like early Mothers of Invention recordings and at others like a straight (well, a Miles Davis/John Coltrane version of 'straight) Jazz band. The band have a very organic sound, flying seamlessly through time signatures and moods, with a phenomenal feel for shape and colour in their music, and a refreshing taste for expressive dynamics: so often lacking in live bands. The guitarist and the sax players all took a generous number of exhilarating, melodic and angular solos, and the rhythm section were rock solid, fluid and incredibly vigorous.

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Well here I am

Well, here goes. I have never delved into the deranged and fascinating realm of blogging before, but there appears to be a rumour about wonderful cash prizes humming around this site, so I guess I'll join the hunt. I look forward to lots of readin, writing and unimaginable riches!
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