NEW MUSIC: NORMAN WISE - COUNTENANCE

Hello again, long time no see. Not a year's absence this time, but another absence nonetheless. I've alluded to creative struggles before on this blog so I won't mention them again here. What I will say is that in the last week I have heard a song that has made me feel something in a way I hadn't done for a long while, and I simply must write about it.  

A hidden gem in amongst a sea of Soundcloud tracks, 'Countenance' by Norman Wise begins shyly; unassuming vocals are laid ever so gently over summery, unobtrusive synths. Just as your brain begins to form any assumptions, however, they are blown away around 40 seconds in when the track bursts into life, driven along by an indomitable beat and the bounciest of basslines. There's a joy to this song that belies its jaded lyrical content, right through to the end of a dreamy-as-fuck coda. It's hard not to be completely enamoured by 'Countenance'. Why would you resist its many charms? 

I may or may not have convinced you to listen to this track with, let's face it, that slightly bland, writer-y last paragraph, so here's my impassioned plea: listen to this song at least twice, while the sun is still out. Give it your full attention, don't do anything else while you listen. Let your mind wander where it may. Whether you're after the joy of discovering the unknown, or the catharsis of expression, there should be something for you here.  

Why do I like 'Countenance'? It doesn't really matter, or at least it shouldn't. Why did I feel compelled to spend an afternoon agonising over a few hundred words to be flung into the ether? Your guess is as good as mine. There's no reason in the world for you to take my word for it, but if you want to take a chance on this song you're likely to be rewarded.  

2015 RETROSPECTIVE - PART 2

LONE WOLF - LODGE

Music and anxiety often go hand in hand, in my experience. There are records in my music library that foster anxiety that I should probably stay away from; there are others I can turn to for sensory or emotional respite from the shakes and the sweats. I had yet to come across a record that encapsulated both responses, until I first heard Lodge by Lone Wolf. 

Faced with the news that much-favoured recording space The Lodge in Bridlington was closing, Paul Marshall booked some studio time and made what would be his final release as Lone Wolf over the course of a few weekends. The result is Lodge, a record that doesn't shrink away from its subject matter. It is a wonderfully sparse record; ever-present piano is joined in turns by unassuming bass, drums and mute trumpets, all of which are complemented by the sound of a room that almost lives and breathes with the music. There is nowhere to hide here; the elephant in the room must be addressed. 

The sound, therefore, sets up the final part of the Lone Wolf journey, with Marshall going from storyteller to confessor over the course of three records. It couldn't be simpler; he has some things to get off his chest, and he'd like to tell you all about it if you'll listen. Gone are the more abstract lyrics and stories from The Devil and I and The Lovers, and in their place are devastating words that have the power to make the listener recoil. The darkness and self-flagellation of anxiety and depression are explored in their entirety on tracks such as 'Give Up', 'Taking Steps' and 'Get Rough' in a way that is difficult to hear, but at the same time absolutely essential. The elephant in the room is being addressed. 

Addressing these issues is difficult but it can pay dividends, and evidence of this is also present on Lodge. 'Art of Letting Go' is the blueprint; it's no guarantee of success, that's down to you, but it sympathises and lends a helping hand. There is something about the end of 'Token Water' that evokes the giddiness that occurs in the aftermath of an anxiety attack ... an oddly specific evocation that is probably no use to anyone reading this but hey, music belongs to its listeners right? 

Tangents aside, Lodge is a stunning record. It says important things quietly; those who choose to listen have their close attentions rewarded exponentially. Louder records may get more accolades but you shouldn't have to shout for your voice to be heard. 

Lone Wolf

2015 RETROSPECTIVE - PART 1

EAST INDIA YOUTH - CULTURE OF VOLUME

On this day last year I began my look back at 2014 music with TOTAL STRIFE FOREVER, East India Youth's Mercury-nominated debut record. I did not envisage that I'd be starting this year's retrospective with William Doyle's second effort CULTURE OF VOLUME, but I'm not complaining. Spoiler alert: it's a bloody good record. The ideas open out as opposed to the enveloping of TOTAL STRIFE FOREVER; everything sounds widescreen, the vocals are stronger, the production sounds just that little bit slicker. While in many ways this second record is an elaboration on the first, there is one thing that remains the same; both records demonstrate a formidable audacity that manifests itself in multiple ways.

After the unfurling of opener THE JUDDERING, END RESULT is a deftly textured track that creates the effect of walking through some cold, vast expanse that probably doesn't really exist except in the mind (incidentally, this is a record that travels very well). When I listen to HEARTS THAT NEVER, it sounds like a neuroscientist cut my brain open, targeted the exact areas of the thing responsible for my completely random and unintelligible sensory pressure-points and put them all in a song, all happening at the same time. I might be affronted at this blatant invasion of privacy if it didn't sound and feel so unbelievably fucking fantastic. CAROUSEL is simply stunning. To reiterate: it's a bloody good record.

What is most impressive about CULTURE OF VOLUME is its evocative quality. When I think of this record many things come to mind: anxiety attacks, coach rides, a wet December night in Leeds, karaoke (don't ask), walking through the streets of London at 11pm and discovering a beauty in the city that I had never seen before. I don't expect anyone to share in these evocations; they are personal to me, and really that's the point. We don't react to music in the same way, we are shaped by our brains and our experiences and we sift music through those filters. All we can hope for is to find music that is an open and easy conduit, that not only creates associations but refreshes and remakes them as we go along. Luckily for us, records like CULTURE OF VOLUME make the process wonderfully effortless. 

East India Youth

IN THE INTERESTS OF TRANSPARENCY

It has been 5 or 6 days since my last daily 2014 Retrospective post; since then I have dropped the reins entirely. This has been partly for circumstantial reasons, as I've been travelling a lot in this time, as well as having to face up to the fact that it's Christmas and I must do Christmassy things. At the heart of it though, these reasons are merely excuses; I could've still updated this blog every day, if I had really wanted to. The truth is, as much as I wanted to be egalitarian throughout my flurry of end-of-year posts, I had been unconsciously ranking the records as I went along. As I drafted the post for day 11 and Present Tense by Wild Beasts, I realised that this post was my favourite to write because Present Tense was my favourite album. The thought of continuing to traverse the mountain ranges of this year's music, when I had just reached the summit, no longer seems that appealing to me, so I will not continue with the 2014 Retrospective. See you next year ... 

2014 RETROSPECTIVE - DAY 11

WILD BEASTS - PRESENT TENSE

Today's post must begin with a disclaimer; when I comes to Wild Beasts I find it damn near impossible to be impartial. I was so enamoured with Present Tense when it was released in Febraury that I wrote a love letter to it. For all our sakes I won't reproduce it here, but it goes to show the extremity of my affection; if I were pushed to pick an 'album of the year', it would be this one here. Having said that, I find myself somewhat reticent about waxing lyrical here, afraid of tarnishing your view of Present Tense, dear reader, with my muddy footprints.

I can speak about the facts; I could talk about how Present Tense was the band's first UK top ten record, how off the back of it they've played to 5000 people at Brixton Academy, and many more people in support of Arcade Fire and The National. When it comes to how utterly stunning the record is, however, and the ineffable grace with which it has aged as I have listened to and lived with it throughout the year, it is here where words begin to fail me (which is quite inconvenient considering words are my trade). In the end I must defer my words to others; as Jane Austen's Mr Knightley once said, "I cannot make speeches ... If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more".