Showing posts with label rock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rock. Show all posts

Saturday, 18 April 2009

PJ Harvey & John Parish -- Live

A couple of days ago (on Thursday night, to be precise), Heavy Soil was fortunate enough to witness the musicmaking of Ms PJ Harvey and Mr J Parish (and band), in Oxford Brookes Student Union. Take a glance at the following video, courtesy of petemanning1975, for a wee taste:



I twittered my impressions as follows (if you want chronological sense, go from the bottom up):

... So, yes, it was rather good. Though I couldn't help but think: if PJH is this good live when playing only collaborative numbers (the songs were taken from just the two albums released jointly by PJH + Parish, with no PJH solo material), she'd be friggin' excellent doing her own stuff.

I like the PJH/Parish music, but it generally (taken as a whole) lacks the variety and intensity of the solo albums.



Thursday, 2 April 2009

Review: A Woman A Man Walked By, by PJ Harvey and John Parish


So, you've seen the video for 'Black Hearted Love'? Good, innit?

But what about the album?

It's called A Woman, A Man, Walked By, and it was released on Monday. PJH's site altruistically offers a list of emporia in which you can snaffle it up.


Something New, Or More Of The Same?

PJH is all about reinvention. Few artists (and extraordinarily few with a comparably high profile) have explored so rich an array of voices and identities over the course of their career. How much of a change is A Woman, A Man, Walked By, relative to what's gone before?

Like White Chalk, there is a fascination with textures (meaning the combination of instruments and sounds at any one time) and timbres (meaning the tones and sonic characteristics of each individual instrument or sound). And also like White Chalk, there's a lot of percussion going on, but hardly ever courtesy of a drum kit. PJH and John Parish seem to favour not only acoustic, minimalist percussion (tambourines, hand drums and the like), but also percussive instrumentation and production.

So guitars are real rhythm instruments – woody and brittle or diced, metallic, rattlingly hacked ... And they're equalised in such a way as to accentuate the attack of each strum or pick – so that the songs drive without having their detail obscured by tub-thumping.

Guitars figure centrally, then. Nevertheless they're not perhaps as prominent or as open-throttled as the single 'Black Hearted Love' might've led us to expect. There's not as much uncomplicated rocking out as I'd expected having heard the single, with its expansive riffing and bluesy crunch – but there's lots of sonic inventiveness.


Not that I want y'all to think that this is a delicate, subtle record.

It's not. Fourth track 'Chair', for instance, is unsettlingly rootless, trip-hop-laced, oscillating between squally, punctuative rock onslaughts and eerily warbling pipe-organ-like sounds ... With its sudden, vertiginous transitions, the overall effect is something akin to Radiohead's 'Trans-Atlantic Drawl' [youtube] – a song (incidentally) that's criminally neglected thanks to its obscure B-side status, but actually one of the best – most interesting – things they've written.

(Radiohead's has way more key changes, though ...)

[Hey – why don't you just download PJ Harvey's 'Chair' as an mp3 and see what you make of it?]

Vocally – as ever – PJH is ventriloquistic. In 'April', she takes on the voice of a wheezy old soul singer – which, in combination with the rotary organ accompaniment, gives the song a tawdry, jaded, weary quality – until it soars to its impassioned, cracked climax, before subsiding again.

Then, in closing 'Cracks In The Canvas', she's doing the poetry-set-to-music thing that's so cringeworthy in the hands of those like George Pringle [last.fm]. It's not cringeworthy here – though she's still not quite as good at it as Jarvis Cocker (compare Pulp's superb 'David's Last Summer' [Last.fm link]).

'Passionless, Pointless' is all delay-soaked melancholy and hypnotic tremolo – but perhaps a little directionless (a nice unexpected key-change would've made it for me. But Heavy Soil is a shameless courtesan in the harem of the unexpected key-change, as you'll know by now).

Some of the unflinchingly aggressive, testosteroney delivery – which can veer into unpleasant territory, I presume deliberately – recalls Uh Huh Her (to my mind, her least successful album). I'm thinking of 'Pig Will Not' (which actually contains distorted vocal frequencies harsh enough to make me wince) and the brawling, sneering vocal assault of the album's title track. I have little doubt that it's intelligent as opposed to mindless shape-shifting and histrionics – and (boy) it certainly has an effect – but it's not necessarily easy or pleasant to listen to.

(... But is that what we come to PJH for? Methinks not.)

There is certainly a Kid A quality to this record in its combined austerity and pugnacious defiance. I'd link it, too, to Portishead's brilliant Third (indeed, songs such as 'The Soldier' tap into very similar sonic territories – washed-out, desaturated operating-room-folk). While White Chalk was veiled, subtle, shimmering, sunbleached, dignified, A Woman, A Man, Walked By is neurotically restless, by turns demandingly hysterical and obscurely reticent.



Put it all together then, Heavy Soil. It's what we pay you for.

(Eh? You pay me?)

Well, we're swinging from the excesses of Uh Huh Her to the otherwordliness of White Chalk, all imbued with something of the spirit of To Bring You My Love. There's a kind of rabidness –a glassy-eyed, bolshy unpredictability to the whole thing – and the album certainly feels (at times) as close to the edge as did Rid Of Me.

Musically, though, it meanders a little at times. Part of its nature (the artistic conception behind it, I'd hazard) is to be far less consistent, less encapsulated-in-amber, than White Chalk. It sets out to do something quite different – something far more intrusive; active, not passive. And the music successfully sets my head spinning. As might a bloke who clocks me round the bonce with a baseball bat, before tenderly kneeling at my side and reciting Gerard Manley Hopkins.

But if I'm judging the album as a deliberately provocative piece of art, I think it falls slightly short of excellence. At times, it's treading water. Not often, perhaps. But enough occasionally to let up on the bewilderment and to allow me to relax into a degree of familiarity.

In a way that albums such as the aforementioned Third (and, for that matter, Kid A) do not.

I suppose what I'm saying is, if PJH and John Parish are going to go for the unpredictably neurotic, they have to make sure it doesn't slip. And occasionally, it does. And, whatever they say, there are times on this record at which I feel I could be listening to an outtake from earlier album recording sessions. 'The Soldier' – to pick one song – could be a track on White Chalk.

... And, curiously, it's songs like the superb, soaring, matt-laminated 'Black Hearted Love' (certainly one of the album's most enjoyable) that jar in the context of the more aggressive, uncompromising stuff.

It's a good album, definitely. But (funnily enough, given the raw immediacy of some of the material) I don't think it's been pushed quite hard enough in places to be entirely what it wants to be.




As ever, the mp3 is provided in order that you may appraise. If said appraisal is positive, Heavy Soil urges you to position your money in a similar position to your mouth and buy the album.

Tuesday, 25 November 2008

Andrew Lloyd Weezer


Weezer's Pinkerton is a brilliant album. Some people debate its preeminence, focusing their adulation instead upon the band's debut 'blue' album.

To them I say, 'I respectfully yet emphatically disagree with your point of view.'

Heck yes.

Falling For You (download mp3 via YouSendIt) is all about the guitar solo from 2.10, and the accompanying extra-matured-cheddar-cheesy sequence of key-changes, which could almost come from an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.

IN A GOOD WAY.

... All culminating in a lovely interrupted cadence (/key change) at 2.35 (translation: you were expecting triumphant and happy; it goes sad and wistful). The beauty is that these are such hackneyed musical motifs and devices. It's almost banal. But – crucially – not even slightly so in this context.

It mentions cellos, too, thereby notching up several bonus points.

Weren't Weezer so much better before they went compression-mad? Why the hell doesn't Rivers Cuomo write songs like this any more? Songs that teeter majestically on the upturned drawing-pin balanced on the hairline division between irony and intense self-revelation.


Tuesday, 7 October 2008

The Beatles' Hymn to Bank Failures

Well, let's get an obvious choice out of the way:


Lyrically, the first verse of this is eerily apposite:

"You never give me your money;
You only give me your funny paper,
And in the middle of negotiations
You break down."

Yes, that's you down to a tee, Lehman, old boy.

Isn't it nice, the way the piano is panned hard left; guitar hard right? They used to mix things this way, back in the old days, y'know, back when stereo was a novelty.

And, yes, it's another song of the day with extreme and sudden changes. Heavy Soil makes no apologies for repeatedly enriching your days in this mildly predictable fashion – especially when the song itself is so splendidly unpredictable.

So piano balladry and lovely vocal harmonies give way to honkytonk rock'n'roll, to gospel-tinted faux-triple-time, then a charmingly received-pronunciation, children's-jingle finish.

Thursday, 18 September 2008

Joining a Fan Club With Jellyfish

Aw. Bless. Don't they just look so 90s?

The Vinyl District: TVD's Daily Wax | Jellyfish "Spilt Milk"

In my blog-perusals, I chanced upon the Vinyl District's tribute to Jellyfish – which brought a small twitch of glee to Heavy Soil's withered heart. Seldom does one chance upon a fellow Jellyfish-admirer.

So. Jellyfish – especially as incarnated in their (superior) second album, Spilt Milk, is a band about which very little is minimal or understated. As today's song demonstrates eloquently enough ...

It's a glossily-produced, genre-skipping, surrealistically satirical ... well, I can think of no other noun than romp.


Pretty funny lyrics, too.

Tuesday, 16 September 2008

Distinctively enormous (vocals): Shannon Wright


The two things I find particularly interesting about Shannon Wright (artist site, last.fm) are her capacity for vocal yowling (in a good way: she has an extremely powerful voice) and her fusion of classical motifs and rock instrumentation.

In the latter respect, there is something a little Muse-like – though considerably lower on the bombast scale.

As for her voice ... It's enormously distinctive. Distinctively enormous. An incredibly full, forceful alto, with a characteristic waver – almost like a tape warble – to it.


It features a key-shifting, vaguely Chopin-esque arpeggic piano, punchy drumming and aforementioned vocal yowling.

Here's a video of a live show, too – for a taste of her guitary antics. Rock.



Friday, 12 September 2008

Get violent with Rose Kemp. Ooh. Cheap.

Heavy Soil is making a quick post before Heavy Soil goes on the razz.

Leaving you with a good (genuinely unsettling) video for a good song. Violence, by Rose Kemp (website, last.fm)  <--- Um, but, seriously, Rose old gal, get your website looked at. It's migraine-inducingly badly designed. All that small, badly-formated text. Agh!



Good things
Proper big heavyness, preceded by quietness. So, er, that'd be contrast once again, I guess.
And a chorus without singing. Woo.
A female vocalist who sings with body (no, not her body. Body.)

Slightly less good things
Possibly outstays its welcome just a tad? An outro too far?
Lyrically a little glib?

What think'st thou, o reader?

Wednesday, 27 August 2008

Teeter on the brink with Ida Maria

Today, Ida Maria. Who released her debut album about a month ago (which I have not heard). And whom Cogwheel Dogs, in fact, supported when she was in Oxford.

So – quite a good single with quite a cool video. The song is called, not so immensely surprisingly, 'Oh My God'.



It's interesting to reflect that this whole song is made by the simple fact of that delayed attack in the chorus - a quaver's hesitation before the word "God".

Were it not for this tension-raising hiatus, the song would be somewhat unremarkable, save for its aggressive tempo. With the sudden loss of balance – the sense of teetering on a cliff's brink – it's fresh.

Nevertheless, the song is too long, in my opinion, and wears out this initially effective hook. And – for all its raw energy – I don't find her performance quite intense enough to do battle with the PJ Harveys and Bjorks against whom she is pitted ... though the cigarette-serrated edges to her voice are pretty impressive in the high registers.

Finally: the overtly sexual way in which she is presented as an artist (or in which she chooses to present herself? Who knows?) is rather tiresome and unconvincing. Again, she needs either to take a leaf out of PJ Harvey's book in this respect, or else take a different tack. At the moment, it's not working.

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