Just Played - On The Record #7

Still going

Regular readers of my writing will know that I am more than a little fond of Damon Albarn’s musical output from the past thirty years or so. Whether as part of one of his trio of groups or flying solo, I would say his work moves me more consistently than any other artist. Of course, there are some releases that haven’t become firm favourites, but not many. I still marvel at 2018, when he released ‘The Now Now’ and ‘Merrie Land’ only months apart. Continuing my recently explained policy of largely avoiding teaser tracks for anticipated albums, I was tentatively excited to have my first play of ‘Cracker Island’ last Friday. In the time since, I’d estimate I have played it around twenty times. I’ve previously suggested that my standard response to many Damon projects is to be initially quite pleased and then fall head over heels in the days and weeks that follow. But this one got me almost immediately.

As ever, there’s a degree of genre-hopping and bending of the sound to meet any guest stars half-way. For example, ‘New Gold’ undeniably feels like a sturdy disco retooling of Tame Impala’s more exciting moments and the vocal layers for Stevie Nicks’ guest spot on ‘Oil’ could only be her. However, the fairly common criticism that this album is business as usual strikes me as a little odd. This is, at the very least, their best since 2010 and, quite possibly, their most tightly realised of all time. In a truly fantastic interview film with Damon, Zane Lowe was effusive in his suggestion that ‘Cracker Island’ is his favourite Gorillaz record and I get it. These are huge songs, with instant hooks and precision-engineered choruses. I’ve had at least one track from it looping as an earworm since the start of the weekend and they shuffle about, suggesting it’s not being hung on a couple strong pieces. The fruitful collaboration with revered producer Greg Kurstin has clearly energised Albarn.

The title track with Thundercat has an irresistible propulsion to it, ‘Tarantula’ is gloriously tight and ‘Baby Queen’ is one of those mid-paced Albarn growers that shimmers and glitters its way into your affections. Oh, and ‘Precision Island’ could be a The Good, The Bad & The Queen song. But, ‘Skinny Ape’ has to be heard to be believed. It starts beautifully and ends sensationally, like one of those mis-triggered fireworks displays where everything goes off within several seconds of each other. It’s magical, ridiculous and utterly, utterly brilliant. I love him. And ‘Cracker Island’ has somehow made me love him even more.

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Misc-Cogs

Did you know that the Discogs app has a neat feature for the indecisive mind? When on the collection tab, give your phone a shake and it’ll select something at random from your library. Each week, I flex my wrist and see which disc comes up. No censoring - if it’s Eternal’s ‘Always and Forever’, I’ll give you my thoughts on it. The first one was John Martyn’s ‘Solid Air’, followed by Lone Wolf’s superb ‘Lodge’, Kylie’s ‘Infinite Disco’, Steve Mason’s ‘Boys Outside’, The Cardigans’ ‘Gran Turismo’ and, last week, Hen Ogledd’s ‘Free Humans’.

There are certain bands who are seemingly condemned to disappoint no matter what they do. When you’ve made an era-defining record or two, so many people can’t accept anything that steps away from that. Massive Attack, depending on how menacing you like your electronic music, should have knocked it on the head, apparently, either after their debut (soulful, not so menacing) or their third outing, ‘Mezzanine’ (industrial, terrifying on headphones.) Either way, it doesn’t really matter to some what Robert Del Naja and Grant Marshall have come out with since as it cannot match those records. I’ve never really understood this viewpoint. I would if new releases meant that every singe copy of those classic albums were instantly erased or destroyed. But they’re not. They’re still there, if you want them. The instant access culture was already a huge factor in prominent releases getting dispatched out of hand by 2010. Plus, ‘100th Window’ was a bit shit and people hadn’t forgotten.

‘Heligoland’ is not a Massive Attack masterpiece. It does, however, contain some quite remarkable pieces of music. ‘Splitting The Atom’, which preceded the album in 2009 as part of a taster EP also containing ‘Pray For Rain’, still sounds indestructible, the relentless organ throb set against a chugging beat and vocal contributions from both 3D and Daddy G, along with Massive staple, Horace Andy. Drifting synths towards its close enhance the paranoia and it leaves you feeling ever so slightly on edge. And all the more receptive for what is arguably the album’s stand out track, ‘Girl I Love You’.

Slightly lazy reviews at the time branded it a close relative of ‘Angel’ – presumably because it has a brooding bassline and features aforementioned legend Horace Andy. Other than that, they’re totally different. The musical equivalent of a hall of mirrors – on a dark, stormy night at the fair, of course – it ebbs, flows, parps and pulses towards an oddly celebratory ending, resulting in a rapturous cacophony prior to taking its leave.

That’s without mentioning the sterling track featuring this week’s sponsor Damon Albarn, ‘Saturday Come Slow’, which is epic in the Massive sense of the word. Albarn’s tortured rendering of the phrase ‘do you love me?’ is genuinely affecting and is a fine example of the kind of unusual collaborations Massive Attack always managed to deliver. Take ‘Paradise Circus’, featuring Hope bloody Sandoval which was released to radio to promote the album and is of course now thought of as the ‘Luther’ song, or ‘Flat Of The Blade’ a disorientating, jittery little beast featuring Guy Garvey in full emotive flight.

The odd track might not linger long, but this is actually a very good record. It seems oddly forgotten in the band’s history and ill-feeling at the time wasn’t helped by the Vinyl Factory pressed 3LP edition, which retailed at around £30 back when that wasn’t entirely normal for a single disc. That said, it is a beautiful package with its ornate and high-quality triple gatefold sleeve and the cut is superb. If, like me, you’ve not heard it for a while, you might be surprised by what you find inside.

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It’s a shorter little ramble this week, given the length of several other sections. I have found myself revising my opinion of Zane Lowe since he went to Apple Music, most notably since they started making really substantial video content out of his long-form interviews. The piece above with Damon is, as I’ve said, absolutely wonderful, but he’s managed similarly excellent exchanges with many artists in the last few years. He clearly does his research and his unapologetic enthusiasm for music visibly relaxes his subjects.

Whether it’s Harry Styles, Kendrick Lamar, Florence, Robbie Williams or even Cate Blanchett, he is able to draw out reflections and extended ideas that are hard to find elsewhere. He’s come a long way from the intensity of his MTV work and the occasionally sulky attempts at being enigmatic for the BBC, making peace with his natural approach to all sorts of different music and people. I’m amazed to find myself so enthused by his work, but he’s offering extended conversations with contemporary pop stars in a void caused by the loss of Q, NME and less straightjacketed music radio. Long may he continue.

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First Look

Shall we have another quick RSD preview from Demon Records? Ian McCulloch’s 2003 solo album ‘Slideling’ is finally getting a vinyl outing. Have a look at the sleeves and hype sticker below:

Front cover & inner sleeve of the first vinyl release for Ian McCulloch's 'Slideling'

The reverse of the above and the record's hype sticker

And what about this? Chrysalis have expanded the legendary ‘Dance Craze’ 2Tone soundtrack album to a 3LP box set with a sizeable (though folded) poster. Have a look at it below:

The outer slipcase & included poster for the 3LP expanded edition of ‘Dance Craze’

The front of the single LP and bonus 2LP set from the 'Dance Craze' box, followed by the reverse of the same and the inside of the 2LP gatefold.

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Something for the ‘read all the way to the end’ folk

I recently noticed Mirry’s self-titled album popping up in a few online indie store sales and flagged it to any Twitter followers who might actually still manage to see my tweets. I have a great fondness for it and this prompted a fresh listen. At the end of the bleak lockdown year of 2020, one of the team behind the independent record shop vinyl initiative Dinked, Drift’s Rupert Morrison, sent me the audio. He was, understandably, very excited about a title they were preparing to announce and which had its full release in February of 2021, following an early edition with alternative artwork on smoke-effect clear vinyl. Regular readers will know that I’m not easily won over by such details and that is has to be all about the actual music.

And what had me hooked was the unique sound of the album and the story of its creation. It is built upon the recordings of Mirabel Lomer, who was born at the turn of the twentieth century and spent much of her adult life as a carer, firstly to her elderly parents and then another couple in Wiltshire. Having grown up in a strict household where she was forbidden from playing music, she had secretly composed a selection of pieces for piano and they were captured on cassette by her brother. Thirty years ago - Lomer having passed during the preceding decade - musician Tom Fraser made a discovery during the house clearance that followed his grandfather’s death that would form the basis of this album. A scratched and battered Transco master disc had been tossed aside but Fraser tucked it in a box and put it to one side.

The time afforded by lockdown meant the disc was discovered once more and Fraser’s Great Aunt Mirry’s long-archived but unknown work was suddenly alive again. Using it as the basis for these pieces, he has collaborated with Simon Tong (this section’s Damon link) to produce some startling, lyrical and vivid soundscapes. Fans of Gavin Bryars and Virginia Astley should drop everything and get hold of a copy right now.

Perhaps most striking is the sense of decay. Notes drifting into the inky blackness, crackle from the abandoned disc, fragments of broken sound as generations are spanned in the studio. ‘Study In F’ is especially textured, at times evoking the burbling atmospherics of Nils Frahm’s stunning ‘Spaces’ set. Distorted beats play off against reverb-drenched, sparingly-sampled piano notes in one of the most modern sounding pieces here.

By contrast, album opener ‘Anthem’ begins with a section of the original recording all bathed in its contemporary hiss before a percussive scaffold emerges to elevate it in a suitably stately manner. One of the great achievements here is using the found sounds and inherent noise of the recording as such coherent textures. This isn’t like those moments when a producer who’s phoning it in opts for a bit of vinyl crackle at the start of a track in a misguided quest for authenticity. The noise is Mirry’s life, the moments when that disc got played and those performances were decoded as an analogue signal that reflected her own creativity back at her. It’s as central to the pieces as the birdsong on Astley’s absolute classic ‘From Gardens Where We Feel Secure’.

These pieces are quite remarkably coherent considering the distance in time, experience and instincts at play. ‘Consolation’ somehow sounds like a celebration of a life in under four minutes. Stately organ swells offer a sense of sombre service while playful claps position a lightness of spirit at the heart of proceedings. The creative urge kept so hidden by someone committed to the support of others is here honoured and evolved by musicians keen to bestow some care on the carer. I won’t spoil the end of ‘Anthem Reprise’ for you, but brace yourself.

Closer ‘Nicholas and Alexandra’ is a shimmering finale, an ascension of melody and deftness of touch that leaves these melodies as living things released from long-forgotten grooves. Buried treasure that still remains out of sight of many, it felt like an ideal tip for a bleak, chilly early March day.