Irk The Purists

Top Deco

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 13:51:00 +0000

Just managed to listen to the new Section 25 long player, and very good it is, too. However, I was a little underwhelmed by the sleeve, which doesn't really fit with the music, and would, IMHO, be better suited to something by, say, Peter Skellern. Since the group's erstwhile designer Peter Saville has mined the catalogues of the Bauhaus designers, theImpressionists, the Futurists and various Dutch typographers for inspiration in the past, did someone from S25 say "Ah, I know which artistic movement hasn't been totally reamed yet: Art Deco! Yeah, let's go with that!"

League Division One

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 19:19:00 +0000

While it didn't hold any great surprises (save for the truly shocking revelation that Chris Carter and Cosey Fanni Tutti don't live in a rubber-lined dungeon as I fondly imagined-- instead their kitchen looked rather like one I was admiring in B&Q a few weeks back), the BBC's Synth Britannia of last week was great entertainment, even if it fudged a few dates for the sake of the narrative. Andy McCluskey of OMD was particularly good value, though Richard H Kirk was dead wrong when he asserted that some people think that Cabaret Voltaire's Red Mecca, rather than Ghost Town, was the soundtrack to the Brixton and Toxteth riots. I've never met a single person that thinks this. Actually, one minor revelation, for me at least, was seeing Alison Moyet of Yazoo at the height of her (and their) success. At my school, and, I'll venture, thousands of others up and down the land, any woman slightly heavier or less attractive than, say, Clare Grogan was considered unworthy of our attentions (ah, if only they knew what they were missing, eh?). By this measure, Alison Moyet was regarded as slightly less attractive than Giant Haystacks. Yes, we really were that shallow. And sexist. And sizeist. The revelation, after twenty-five years, that she wasn't the swamp beast of popular memory, but was actually a fairly normal-looking, even attractive, woman was chastening.

The Human League, quite rightly, played a major part in the story, from Reproduction to Dare, and accordingly Phil Oakey, Martyn Ware, Joanne Catherall and Susan Sulley were wheeled on to give their ten-penn'orth. I saw Ware a couple of times this summer, first sitting on a symposium as part of the Edinburgh Science Festival (where he shared a stage with Stelarc), and second acting as MC at a Future of Sound event at the Gateshead Sage Centre. The latter was great fun and terrific value: about £8 to see The Modified Toy Orchestra, Sarah Nicolls, Threep and the Sancho Plan. As well as hosting the event, Martyn treated the audience to a gratuitous and entirely unnecessary rendition of Being Boiled, performed to a souped-up and funky backing track. He was wearing a shiny-looking double-breasted suit, a shirt and a tie, and, having recently returned from sunnier climes, had a tan that made him look as if he'd been basted in tandoori paste. My companions found the sight of him singing faintly ridiculous, and later giggled conspiritorially. "What is he like?", "What a twonk", "He can't even sing!"

Now, hang on a sec, I said. Now you've gone too far. He might look like Bob Monkhouse's son. He might be pissing all over the legacy of his former group. But to accuse him of not being able to sing? No. I'm not 'avin it (as Liam Gallagher reportedly said when he learned that Spinal Tap were a comedy turn rather than, as he'd thought, an earnest metal band). Martyn Ware wasn't just in Heaven 17 and the Human League to push buttons and play keyboards. He's also an extremely good singer, especially as a backing vocalist and harmoniser. Just ask Tina Turner, for whom Ware performed backing vocal duties on many occasions. Or the many soul artists with whom he's worked, such as Tashan, Chaka Khan and Terence Trent D'Arby. I knew this; my companions at the Sage that night were blinded (or deafened) by the suit and the tan and the general cheesiness of the version of Being Boiled that we witnessed. And yes, it was cheesy. But, dammit, the guy can sing.

If you need convincing, just listen to the League Mark One's version of You've Lost That Loving Feeling, below. Those heavenly backing harmonies are courtesy of one M. Ware. I love this take on the song, as it eschews the misplaced triumphalism of the Righteous Brothers' original, replacing the swelling strings in the chorus with a diminuendo, plaintive synth which is entirely in keeping with the song's sentiment. There's a real sense of quiet longing here, one that's entirely missing from the original. One of the commenters on YouTube says "Best cover ever?" I'd be inclined to remove the question mark.

Wild Boys

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 18:49:00 +0000

Occupying a space somewhere between Sparks and The Smiths, this is The Wild Beasts. I love their new single All The King's Men, and its video, which to my mind is more Stornoway than Ibiza. That's no bad thing. You can judge for yourselves below.

Eng-er-land's Dreaming

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 14:13:00 +0000

I recently finished reading Keith Allen's autobiog of a few years back. As I expected, there was much to admire about the way he's conducted his life, and much that reflected badly on him, too, in particular his cavalier attitude towards partners and children. Despite this, one story in particular stood out, and its seems appropriate to re-tell it today, the day that the late Sir Bobby Robson is being remembered at a memorial service at Durham Cathedral. It concerns the antics of England's players after the 1990 World Cup, and it changed Allen's view of them from the cheeky chappies of World In Motion to the abysmally-behaved, inconsiderate gits that most footballers (probably) are.

And one more thing I have to bring up, given all the hype from the England players about how much they respected Bobby Robson and what a great manager he was. It was bullshit. I was there and saw first hand how they treated him. I was invited to their hotel with friends I was travelling with when they had a team meal after England had exited the World Cup. Bobby got up to make a speech and Gary Lineker pretended to yawn.

After his speech the players drifted away, leaving Robson sitting alone at the end of the table while Gazza, I remember very clearly, threw bread at him. This wasn't the end of it. Afterwards all the players picked him up, carried him out to the pool and threw him in. We all watched, expecting the players to help him out again. They didn't. They just threw him in, turned and walked away, leaving Sir Bob dazed and spluttering, struggling to get out of the water.

Keith Allen, Grow Up, p. 302/303

Currie Favour

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 14:07:00 +0000

A really nice piece on Momus (his ace ClickOpera blog is in my links on the left of this page), from Saturday's Guardian, here.

Gordon Is A Moron

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 18:48:00 +0000

...and I bet Trudi Styler was right next to him, taking all the credit.

X-Reg

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 23:05:00 +0000

The other Malcolm (McLaren) who was appearing at the Festival was on excellent form in his sole one-man show, for one afternoon only. I won't bore you with all the details, but I feel I must share one story I hadn't heard before, and which was almost worth the admission price alone.

The late newsreader Reginald Bosanquet, sometimes referred to as Reginald Beaujolais on account of his legendary thirst, developed something of a crush on Jordan, the original dominatrix-styled assistant at Sex, McLaren and Vivienne Westwood's Kings Road shop of the mid-70s. A regular visitor to Sex, Bosanquet felt the need to cover up his affections for Jordan by making frequent purchases, or so McLaren claimed in Edinburgh.

After one such purchase, a pair of rubber knickers, Bosanquet accosted McLaren in the shop and said "Watch me tonight, I'll be wearing these."

Perplexed, McLaren asked Bosanquet to elaborate.

"Tonight, on the telly! When I'm reading the news, I'll be wearing these under my suit!"

Malcolm in the Middle. Ton.

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 22:34:00 +0000

I saw the lovely Malcolm Middleton at the Edinburgh Festival the other day (sharing a stage with six comedians, though not simultaneously, sadly). And I couldn't help but wonder...

Simon Pegg

Malcolm Middleton

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 22:30:00 +0000

Bandwidth issues again. Apologies to anyone that's tried to download stuff recently, but I've exceeded my allowance (popularity, eh?). Normal downloading service will resume shortly. I've deleted some older stuff, so that should ease the situation. I might also try uploading files to a few different hosts rather than putting all my digital eggs in the Fileden basket.

First among equals

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 22:56:00 +0000

I was equally surprised to see that Alan Vega is 70 years old. I know this isn't news: I first heard it last year, but dismissed it as a typo, reasoning that he couldn't possibly be over 60 (plus, most biogs, like this one, claim his birth year as 1948). However, I looked at the Blast First (Petite) (i.e his own record company) website recently, and that's proclaiming that this is Alan's 70th year on the planet, so I guess if they're saying it, then it must be true. And, now I delve further, it seems that more and more biogs, such as the one on Wikipedia, are listing his birth year as 1938. In fact, I suppose that makes him 71.

Whatever his age (and God, I hope I'm as sprightly at 71), we should be thankful that Blast First (Petite) have seen fit to release some fantastic covers of Suicide tracks by the great and (occasionally) good of the music biz, including Klaxons, Primal Scream and, unbelievably, Bruce Springsteen. It's not a secret that Bruce was always a big Suicide fan (he'd said as much in the past), but it's incredible that he'd deign to release a limited edition single on the label that originally brought us Big Stick, Labradford and Pan(a)sonic. If, like me, you're a bit cash-strapped, all the singles in the series (including Bruce's cover of Dream Baby Dream) are available on Spotify.

I mentioned Big Stick and Labradford there, though technically these were released by Blast First, rather than Blast First (Petite). Confused? Well, the two labels are related. Both are overseen by one Paul Smith (no not that one); the former was and is an offshoot of the venerable Mute, though since EMI took a controlling share of Mute, Blast First's output has slowed to a trickle (its last release through Mute was two years ago, seemingly). The latter (BF(P)) is a more recent, truly independent variant which as well as releasing the aforementioned Suicide covers has, in recent years, given us Return of The Giant Slits, and promises within the next year to release a live DVD by the Au Pairs, another by John Fahey, and, most audaciously, a series of rare albums by sculptor and furniture designer Harry Bertoia (right). As well as re-releases,Blast First (Petite) showcase going concerns such as Klang and Pansonic. And, as such, they should be celebrated. Hooray!

MP3s? Ok, if you insist. Below are some examples of the label's diverse output, though they all come from the Blast First stable (i.e. through its association with Mute rather than released independently--do keep up). The first, by Head of David, is from circa 1991, when the label was primarily concerned with bring us the likes of Sonic Youth, Band of Susans and Stretchheads. If you like these, there's a good chance you'll like Head of David. The second, by the Williams Fairey Brass Band is a cover of 808 State's Pacific 202, and one of a series of brass band acid house covers co-ordinated by the future Turner Prize winner Jeremy Deller in 1998. More info here. Finally, from the compilation Hot Shit by Sean McLusky's Sonic Mook Experiment, a bit of Erase Errata. And why not?

Download Vulture Culture by Head of David (mp3)

Download Pacific 202 by Williams Fairey Brass Band (mp3)

Download Other Animals Are No. 1 by Erase Errata (mp3)

Brownian motion

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 22:47:00 +0000

I was pleasantly surprised (and gratified) to see VV Brown (she of the ozone-layer defying quiff-- am I the only one that thinks it should be even higher?) waxing lyrical about John Cage, LaMonte Young and Ryuichi Sakamoto in the Grauniad yesterday. Crikey.

And our parents fought the punk wars for this?

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 22:42:00 +0000

A sign of the times. Or something like that. Kids today, etc. I was in a mid-range clothing store in Edinburgh yesterday (Reiss, if you must know), one of those stores that the pundits tell us will fail in the current recession while the providers of merchandise at either end of the price spectrum (Primark, Prada) will thrive. Anyhoo, the men's section was empty so I fell into small talk with the sales assistant. He was young, extremely good looking, and, naturally, well-dressed. That staff discount comes in handy, I imagine.

"So," says he, "have ye caught anything at the Festival yet?" I mumble something about Eva Hesse and Ben Dover. "Oh, and I'm going to see Malcolm McLaren next week," I offer.

"Ah, who's he, likesay?" comes the reply. "A comeedjun?"

Engineering Werks

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 22:06:00 +0000

And especially this. Is it too obvious to call it Kraftwerk meets Ride? Yes? So sue me.

Weather Report

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 22:04:00 +0000

Also greatly enjoying this.

Media playa

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 21:49:00 +0000

In tribute to Walter Cronkite, recently deceased U.S. newsman, and one of the chroniclers of 20th century America, here's Steinski and the Mass Media's The Motorcade Sped On, featuring the voice of the aforementioned Mr. Cronkite and, thanks to this first-rate fan video, his image too. The song has nothing to do with Coldcut, incidentally, despite its title.

Swells part two

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 12:29:00 +0000

Some nice tributes here from David Stubbs, Terry Staunton and others.

Barlow Can You Go?

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 12:25:00 +0000

Am I missing something here? Couldn't disgruntled purchasers simply, er, use the volume dial on their equipment to (to use the technical parlance) "turn it down a tad"? Story below.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2009/jul/09/dinosaur-jr-recall-new-album

Alls Swells That Ends Swells

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 21:19:00 +0000

MJ (see below) will be remembered in part for knocking the unfortunate Farrah Fawcett off the front pages (which makes Farrah the Mother Teresa to Jacko's Lady Di). Steven Wells' death on Tuesday, meanwhile, barely rated a paragraph in most newspapers. However, his will be the loss I'll feel most keenly. Wells, who wrote for the NME in its (read: my) glory days, alongside the likes of Dele Fadele, Stuart Maconie, David Quantick and Barabara Ellen, was the sort of critic who, like Julie Burchill, often said things you disagreed with. But you had to admire the way he said them.

At almost exactly the time that Wells passed away, the NME's most recent editor, Conor McNicholas decided to jump ship and edit Top Gear magazine. Which tells you alot about the state of the music industry in general and the NME in particular. But there was a time that the NME cared about music and Wells, whether writing under his own name or in the guise of alter-ego Susan Williams, epitomised this (despite James Brown's assertions to the contrary). Read some of his greatest moments (though sadly not his Shed Seven interview) at the bottom of this tribute. RIP Swells.

Blog standard

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 21:09:00 +0000

If you've a penchant for left-field and, in many cases, ultra-obscure post-punk, with an occasional foray into early hip-hop (and if you don't, why not?) then head over to a fantastic blog Everything Starts With an A, where the likes of Sudden Sway, Frank Chickens, Chakk, 400 Blows, Sophie and Peter Johnston, Set The Tone and Vice Versa await your perusal.

Taking The Michael

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 20:46:00 +0000

There's not a whole lot more to be said about Michael Jackson's death at this juncture, given that there are acres of newsprint and billions of bytes all devoted to the subject. But it always struck me that whatever there was of the real Michael Jackson died about 25 years ago. I'm not just talking simplistically about corporeal concerns, though, of course, his physical persona began to metamorphose into the freakish waxwork that he became at roughly that time (and how many tributes featured his more recent pale, ghastly visage as an accompaniment to their obituaries, as opposed to the cherubic twenty-something of Off The Wall and Thriller? Answer: not many).

To remind us that before the hubris and the madness, there was once a talented, discerning and (no pun intended) thrilling individual at work, here's Rock With You from 1979, written by Cleethorpes' own Rod Temperton.

Download Rock With You by Michael Jackson (mp3) (deleted Aug 2009)

Jah Head

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Fri, 29 May 2009 22:55:00 +0000

Despite the continuing presence of George Lamb, the digital airwaves of BBC 6Music continue to throw up interesting and informative shows, at least when its presenters are freed from the tyranny of the playlist. In the past week we've had Stuart Maconie's Freak Zone's post-punk special, which, endearingly, eschewed the usual suspects (for the most part) and instead showcased the lesser lights of the genre, such as Kleenex, Family Fodder, the Flying Lizards and Swell Maps. It also found house room for the earliest incarnation of the Human League, of whom more in a future post. You can catch the show for a few more days here.

On Friday night, too, there was more excitement (for me, at least) as Jah Wobble joined Gary Crowley in the studio, standing in for Tom Robinson. Catch the show here for one more week. Wobble revealed that his autobiography, winningly-entitled Memoirs of a Geezer, will be in the shops in time for Xmas, so you can all put it on your list right now. Wobble also played some tracks from his Chinese Dub Orchestra project, which sounded fantastic.

I shouldn't need an excuse, but this gives me a great reason to shoehorn in a couple of Wobble tracks . Om Namah Shiva, from Heaven and Earth, his last album for Island, features the stellar vocals of Najma Akhtar, while Unusual Balance, from Wobble's 1995 Eno collaboration Spinner, features his regular sidemen Mark Ferda and Justin Adams alongisde vocalist Sussan Deyhim and ex-Can drummer Jaki Liebezeit.

Download Om Namah Shivah by Jah Wobble (mp3) (deleted Aug 2009)

Download Unusual Balance by Wobble/Eno (mp3) (deleted Aug 2009)

Visit 30Hertz Records

Pulp fictions

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Tue, 26 May 2009 09:11:00 +0000

Jarvis Cocker's new album hit the shops last week, and more than one reviewer has referred to it as "lo-fi" (see here for example). Well, it may feature more fuzz guitars than the average Pulp album, but it's certainly not lo-fi. Can we please get this straight? Of all the people on the planet, Steve Albini, who was in charge of recording Further Complications, is one of the most concerned with absolute sonic fidelity. Don't believe me? Take a look at his Chicago studio, Electrical, where the album was recorded. Take a look at the Alcatraz room or the Studio A control room. Then tell me again that Steve Albini deals in lo-fi.

In fact, Jarvis has a higher than usual disposition towards sonics, too. I know that for most people, Pulp were all about the lyrics, and that the music was a secondary consideration. I think, though, especially on Pulp's last albums, that the quality of the music, and a willingness to experiment with sound, really sets their work apart from straight-ahead Britpop chancers like Supergrass. Check out The Night That Minnie Timperley Died from We Love Life (below). I love the contrasts in the song between, for example, the rawness of the guitars and the spectral backing vocals. In fact, turn it up to 11 for the first 15 seconds and be prepared for a shock. Pushed, no doubt, by producer Scott Walker, Pulp really stretched themselves on We Love Life, roping in the Swingle Singers (with whom Pulp had previously collaborated on the soundtrack to Randall and Hopkirk Deceased) and Alasdair Malloy, among others. The results, especially on songs like Trees and and the astonishing Sunrise, show the extent to which Pulp were prepared to forego popular acclaim in favour of sonic experimentation. Predictably, the British public, who preferred the Jarvis who waggled his bum at The Brits and sang about supermarkets and canal towpaths, stayed away from the album in droves.

Alasdair Malloy reappeared on Jarvis's first, self-titled solo venture, and while Scott Walker was no longer involved, the commitment to sonic adventure remained. Check out the album's (apparent) closer Quantum Theory, or Black Magic (below). The combination of Jason Buckle's decaying Wasp synth, Ross Orton (of Fat Truckers)'s monolithic drumming, Alasdair Malloy's hand bells, Richard Hawley's guitar and Steve Mackey's bass, along with a deftly-placed Tommy James and the Shondells sample, is a total winner. The lyrics, notably, are more elliptical, more impressionistic, less concerned with people and place. The music is centre stage.

Even when not being pushed by name producers or heavyweight musicians, Jarvis can still come up with the goods, sonically speaking. His pseudonymous side project of 2003, Relaxed Muscle, again eschewed the lyrical precision for which Pulp had been feted in the mid-nineties, instead opting for sparse and fairly banal imagery backed up by beefed-up cheap synthesised throb. The effect, as Dave Simpson said in the Guardian at the time, was like Cabaret Voltaire at Batley Variety Club (though he was wrong to claim that Hawley was Cocker's partner in Relaxed Muscle- in fact most of the musical side of things was shouldered by the aforementioned Jason Buckle). You can hear The Heavy, the first track on A Heavy Nite With... below.

Download The Night That Minnie Timperley Died by Pulp (mp3) (deleted Aug 2009)

Download Black Magic by Jarvis Cocker (mp3) (deleted Aug 2009)

Download The Heavy by Relaxed Muscle (mp3) (deleted Aug 2009)

Sesame's Treat

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Mon, 25 May 2009 21:29:00 +0000

These things (below) live or die by the accuracy of their editing. Luckily, this is a superlative example of the genre, and the lip-synching is totally on point. Enjoy. I did.

Oval Office

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 22:03:00 +0000

I haven't posted any mp3s for a while, so let's rectify that right now. How about some glitch-tastic sounds by Oval, those wacky Germans with a penchant for electronic noodling? From their 1998 album Dok on the peerless Thrill Jockey, this is Vitra Desk. For the full holistic experience you can stare at this pic of a Vitra desk, designed by the equally peerless Jasper Morrison.

Download Vitra Desk by Oval (mp3) (deleted Aug 2009)

Brought to book

noreply@blogger.com (Irk The Purists) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 00:12:00 +0000

This is just so brilliant. As are the rest of this photostream on Flickr. Old album covers re-imagined as Pelican books. See more here.