[one spot of loud audio at the beginning – it gets better!]
Supergrass rocked what felt like a secret show last night at Denver’s tiny Larimer Lounge, after the Foo Fighters cancellation at the larger venue up the road. “Hellooooo Red Rocks!” Gaz Coombes shouted as they took the stage, looking back at his bandmates with a grin. With three of the band members sporting matching fedoras, they launched into a short but intense set of songs drawn largely from their new album Diamond Hoo Ha, which all sounded ferocious –and very, very loud– in the compact club. Three merry Britons next to me seemed elated by their dumb luck of seeing one of Britain’s biggest bands of the Nineties (who regularly play to massive festivals and stadiums) in the well-loved confines of our Larimer.
Supergrass and I had a hot date tomorrow night at the Foo Fighters show at Red Rocks, but then Dave Grohl went and got sick.
To soothe our wounds until the make-up dates in September, Supergrass is going to play a Denver show anyway tonight at the teensy Larimer Lounge. Should be a rad evening; their new album packs a swaggering punch with a surprising hint of dare I say glam. Los Angeles band Year Long Disaster opens. Diamond Hoo Ha Man – Supergrass
I had high aspirations for posting this on Monday, but then I had Christmas shopping to do (meager shopping since we’re still half-jobless this holiday season, which is actually kind of freeing cos no one expects anything but cookies from you). My sister and I actually braved the shopping scene to find some fun little inexpensive gifts. They’re selling shirts like that on the right at Target, which confused me.
Sis has been feeling the stress of helping to care for my sick uncle (she’s the closest-located relative to the hospital in CA) so she had expressed a desire to bake the most complicated Christmas cookies we could find while she was here in town. Her exact instructions to me were, “Go online to Martha Stewart.com, and find a recipe for something like talking reindeers with 8 layers of phyllo dough and green glitter.” We didn’t get quite that adventurous but we did manage to make even more basic cookies than truly necessary. They were good snackin to eat warm from the oven on Christmas Eve while the whole family watched A Christmas Story as we do each year in the hours before Santa comes.
“Sons of b*tches! Bumpuses!“
Bad Place The Beauty Shop At first, I listened to The Beauty Shop out of curiosity – their moniker was incongruous for the sound described (Mojo says “as much J Mascis as Johnny Cash”), but also probably because it made me reminisce of the cosy little Beauty Bar in San Francisco that I used to go to on occasion. See, both use the name and the promise of beautiful things to entice the unsuspecting. I am glad I clicked to listen to this trio out of Illinois because they get under my skin. This song feels a bit like that cover of Cash covering Soundgarden’s “Rusty Cage,” and when frontman John Hoeffleur sings about punching a hole in the sky, punctuated by little yelps and a rough and ready acoustic guitar, you believe him. More tunes here.
345 Supergrass Fitting nicely onto your mix between Feist’s 1234 and something from The 5.6.7.8.s, this new numerical scorcher from Oxford’s Supergrass is just as slicing as the other new track “Diamond Hoo Ha Man” was. If these tunes are any indication of what’s to come from the forthcoming album in 2008, they’ve been listening to more White Stripes and smoking less supergrass. I felt a little frisson of electricity when this first came over my speakers.
Endless Conversation (acoustic) The Alternate Routes One of the Fuel/Friends favorites in 2007, The Alternate Routes keep on putting out sublime melodies with this new acoustic EP, which they’re selling exclusively at shows. Eric the guitarist tells me that the band had these alternate versions echoing in their heads of songs from Good and Reckless and True, so they recorded the EP themselves and now their label, frankly, is trying to figure out what to do with it. Let’s hope it gains an actual release in 2008 because it’s simply lovely — dusty backporch Sunday, sweetly aching, Willie Nelson-styled versions of their roosty music.
Heart It Races (Architecture in Helsinki cover) Dr. Dog I mentioned this song some months ago as the b-side to a Dr. Dog 7″ Beck remix, and now I finally have the mp3 from a friend who put it on his annual Best-Of-2007 mix CD which he distributes to his lucky friends. Track #9 on the mix, I’ve been listening to this tune non-stop on repeat. It took me a while to place this song as an AIH cover that I’d streamed months before, but either way it made me love Philadelphia’s Dr. Dog even more. With equal parts Sixties doowop, git-down handclapping rhythm, and spacey My Morning Jacket-esque vocals, this is a perfect song. Perfect.
Cut Your Hair (Pavement cover) Cassettes Won’t Listen This is what happens when Stephen Malkmus gets channeled through your Casio keyboard, and even though it’s impossible to improve upon the original, this updates it in a strangely danceable, slightly-weird but pleasing way. Part of a free EP of Nineties covers with album art that hits right at the heart of the Class-of-’97 nostalgia bin, Cassettes Won’t Listen and the blog Music For Robots take care of you with this free collection. They also give Liz Phair, Butter 08, Blind Melon, and Sebadoh their unique treatment, just for kicks and giggles.
Oxford Britpop/rock foursome Supergrass have been busy chaps in the latter part of 2007 preparing for a new album with producer Nick Launay. I posted and enjoyed their new tune this summer, wherein they discuss a diamond hoo-ha man over a rough and ready guitar line. In addition to that one, there are also three other new songs floating around that I’ve been interested in hearing. I finally got half (2) of them in a fantastic set from their show opening for (?!) the Arctic Monkeys in June at the Malahide Castle in Dublin. The set was broadcast this summer on Ireland’s RTE 2FM.
Supergrass is doing some limited touring under the alias Diamond Hoo Ha Men this month in England [video teaser here]. Their 6th studio album is currently in its final mixing stages in L.A. and it is due out in early 2008.
If you are a visual person who likes the grand intersection of music and art as I do, there is a very cool book of black & white photography by Greg Allum chronicling the time Supergrass spent last summer at the Hansa Studios in Berlin studios recording this new album.
The book is called The Night Shines Like Fireflies and it ain’t cheap, but it’s guaranteed to make your staid coffee table just a bit cooler.
Britain in the mid-90s was a chaotic, creative, music-centric place to be. As Thatcher’s tenure as PM ended and a fresh start began under Tony Blair and the New Labour party, there was a simultaneous crackle and thrum of musical vibrancy that is explored in the 2003 documentary Live Forever (by filmmaker John Dower). On the surface it’s the story of the music, the “Britpop sound” and those who made it, but it also tries to get deeper underneath to look at the society at that moment and what fed this burgeoning supernova.
As a complete outsider to this specific moment in world history myself, but a fan of the music that ended up on my plate because of it, I thought it was fascinating to see one view of the context behind it. As Louise Wener from the band Sleeper says of those days, “There was a sense of a kind of excitement that something was changing — perhaps this music was foreshadowing something else.” The documentary undertakes the Herculean task of trying to examine the music through the social and political context of the mid-90s, teasing out its larger implications to the fabric of a generation. This is always tricky.
The story is mostly told through first person interviews from those who were there. You’ve got the big three represented in Oasis, Blur and Pulp, but also a number of other musicians and commentators. These conversations were illuminating and entertaining — not counting a few statements of general unfair snobbery related to my own culture, like “Americans have tremendous confidence, but not much talent,” and one remark that I obviously vehemently disagreed with regarding Seattle music of the time: “The only really decent group were Nirvana” (I said “Unh!” to myself and looked around at no one else sitting there with me, in indignation).
Along with snippets of music videos, concerts, newsclips and articles, the interviews carry the bulk of the story. Damon Albarn seems to have grown up quite a bit, his segments were pensive and thoughtful, accompanied by his strumming on a ukulele. Jarvis Cocker had some fantastic stories of those years and I enjoyed hearing his articulate reflection (but really, whatever he says, I just love his voice – deliciously smarmy and all rich velvet molasses). Liam was a complete wanker for most of his bits –so secure in his obvious awesomeness, relentlessly turning questions back around on the filmmakers, giving evasive answers, sitting there with that haircut and those mirrored shades sounding like he’s got a mouthful of marbles– but Noel was hilarious and awesome. Example: Towards the end, Noel’s talking about how they were in a studio one day next door to the prepubescent dance-pop of S Club 7, and how he seriously thought they were “special needs kids” there for a tour of the studios and for the free food. Touche.
The film goes through the peak years of the Britpop sound, which were right smack in the middle of my high school years — a time when pretty much every single act coming out of Britain making pop/rock music was tagged part of “The Britpop Movement.” As surely as so-called “grunge bands” of ’90s Seattle shrugged away from the label, many of these Britpop bands weren’t thrilled with the simplistic categorization, but it did create a crackling excitement and level of buzz for their music that took them places they otherwise wouldn’t have gone just a decade prior.
So which Britain was it?
Is it the carefree abandonment of youth epitomized by Supergrass frolicking on the beach, singing lines like:
We are young, we run green, keep our teeth, nice and clean see our friends, see the sights, feel alright
We wake up, we go out, smoke a fag, put it out see our friends, see the sights, feel alright
But we are young, we get by, can’t go mad, ain’t got time Sleep around, if we like, but we’re alright
The disaffected uncertainty (yet faith in music) of The Verve in “This Is Music”?
I stand accused, just like you for being born without a silver spoon Stood at the top of a hill Over my town I was found
I’ve been on the shelf too long Sitting at home on my bed too long Got my things and now I’m gone How’s the world gonna take me?
. . . Well music is my life and loved by me I’m gonna move on the floor with my sweet young thing Down down down, down we go till I reach the bottom of my soul This is music
Blur’s cocky questioning of having it all in “Parklife”? The paranoia and ‘the sound of loneliness turned up to ten’ of Pulp’s “Fear”? The indomitable conviction that you and I are gonna live forever?
Listening to the variety of sounds coming out of Britain at the time –all classified by someone or another as Britpop– shows you a bit of how meaningless the term really was. In the film, an interviewer asks Jarvis Cocker of Pulp as he sits on his bed by an open window, curtain fluttering in the breeze, about how his song Common People was called by one reviewer, “the perfect encapsulation of the Britpop aesthetic.” Jarvis just shakes his head, sighs a little, and says, “Oh no.”
Regardless of what it all means (and really, who knows what it all means), this is good music, and the film is 86 minutes well spent.
I had a lot of fun putting this mix together after watching the documentary, combining songs I remember liking the first time around with new discoveries and recommendations from friends on that side of the Pond. According to the film, the Britpop sound inhabited a relatively ephemeral period of time, starting ’round 1992, hitting boiling point in April ’94 with the release of Blur’s Parklife, followed in August by Oasis’ Definitely Maybe. In a similar scene that echoes the film Hype!, bands were getting signed at the height of the frenzy after having played together for mere weeks, with only a handful of songs written.
Some say that the death of the era came with a resounding thud in August ’97 with the release of the cocaine haze manifesto Be Here Now by Oasis. Other say it ended more around the time that footballer Gareth Southgate missed a penalty kick in the Euro ’96 semifinals against Germany. Come on. Is an era that exact? Go ahead and argue either way, influences started before then and the sound carried on after, but I’ve tried to mostly focus my own little mix in the thick of things, from ’94-’97.
And as with any label, you can debate it til the cows come home who fits into the category or not, so some of these may not gel in your mind as Britpop. I lack the immediate expert knowledge in this area, being more of a “grunge rock” girl myself when this was all going down (I shudder at that term, see?!). Snag the whole zip, enjoy the flow for some perfect weekend listening. In general, these make me feel a jaunty sense of optimism — and maybe slightly disaffected, but such were the Nineties, right?
It’s worth noting that although some of these groups didn’t survive the end of the decade, many of them have gone on continue recording music that is just as good (and in may cases better) than their mid-Nineties output. Verve is reuniting and touring, Jarvis Cocker has a swanky euro-cool solo album out now, I rather liked Ocean Colour Scene’s last one, and Ash just rocked my world with their newest single. Media frenzy or no, the talent lasts.
It’s as James (the band from Manchester) said in the fantastic smack of their 1998 song “Destiny Calling”:
“So we may be gorgeous, so we may be famous — come back when we’re getting old.”
Home again, home again, jiggety jig. I had a fantastic loooong stretch in California this past week-plus. In addition to seeing two unbeatableconcerts and witnessing a cousin get married off in a burst of winery festivities, I also got to see lots of old friends, swim in a bonafide swimmin’ hole up in the Sierra Nevada mountains, chat up an old neighbor we call Larry Woodstove and find out the haps in the ‘hood I grew up in, eat my favorite gelato twice and In ‘N’ Out three times, discover a little Italian pottery and antique shop, sit burn on the beach in Santa Cruz, and spot this bar sign (I love taking the scenic route):
I found time to duck into Amoeba Records in Berkeley and Streetlight Records in San Jose. I drove many miles of California highway, waited approximately 832 hours for flights, and I’m pretty sure that some of my underthings were swiped from my luggage by a Transportation Security Administration minion. Never pack em in the outside pocket.
It’s good to be home. I’ve got a backlog of blog posts built up in my head, and a bunch of great music to share with you all.
Put It On Me Ben Harper Hot dang, the new Ben Harper is an absolute scorcher. I literally kept saying “holy crap!” out loud when I listened to tracks like this one, a funky soulful feisty downright boogie. Dig the Isley Brother guitar riffs, the dirty piano, and the full gospel backing vocals. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. Lifeline is out August 28.
Diamond Hoo-Ha Man Supergrass Astute NME readers will note that “Britpop veterans” Supergrassopened for Arctic Monkeys this weekend and played a few new songs, which, of course, sent me out on the hunt to hear them for myself. Supergrass just helped me out in my quest by posting a live mp3 on their site of this new dense White-Stripey-rocker tune. I’m not sure how the protagonist here got access to a diamond hoo-ha, but I’m sure he’s not complaining. If you dig this sound like I do, sign up for updates on their site. Supergrass have completed their latest album and are mixing it this summer in L.A.
Let The Music Play (live with Marc Broussard) G. Love and Special Sauce There’s a certain kind of special, laid-back fun that goes along with a G. Love concert. Philadelphia roots-rap-soul-funkster Garrett Dutton (but you can call him G. Love) can wail on the harmonica, lay down the smooth beats, twist a clever lyric, and always, always make me dance. He’s got a new live tour documentary A Year and A Night out tomorrow on Brushfire Records (watch the trailer here) and there’s a bonus live CD that comes packaged with it. This sizzling live version of “Let The Music Play” (originally on last year’s Lemonade album) features tourmate Marc Broussard, whose new album also I keep hearing good things about.
The Honey Month Augie March Last time I was out in California my brother and I were heading downtown to the Gaslamp Quarter of San Diego and he popped in a mix CD he was currently digging. In addition to lots of Mason Jennings (you’re welcome, little bro) most of it was tunes from Australian megagroup Augie March, who are just starting to make a dent in the American market. My brother will be jealous to hear that I plan to check these guys out at a rare U.S. show this week at the Boulder Records & Radio summit, and will report back my findings. Their “new” (to these shores) album Moo, You Bloody Choir (and no, I don’t know what the title means) is out August 7. It’s a rich and literate album, with this track fairly oozing the figurative honey cited in the title. Pitchfork calls a very apt comparison by likening the work to mid-Nineties Grant Lee Buffalo and yes, amen. A solid and multi-layered album that I look forward to exploring.
Rumors Josh Ritter The new album The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter is miles away from 2006′s Animal Years, except for the common thread of some of the finest songwriting and lyricism in today’s folk/rock world. Similar to how I was surprised by the downright danceable boogie on the forthcoming Iron & Wine (previously offering mostly hushed, go-to-bed-alone music), Josh Ritter gets all Hall & Oates on us with horns, ragtime piano, and beats. I’ll be flogged in public for even suggesting this, but call me crazy if the melody on the verses here is a slowed-down echo of Britney Spears’ 2004 Mile High Club jam “Toxic.” There, I said it.
2007 is shaping up to be an interesting year for releases from artists we thought we knew. Everyone’s gettin’ all spirited-like, and I love it. Some of the songs on this album are more standard fare from Ritter, such as the shiver-inducing loveliness of “The Temptation of Adam” (which I saw him perform back in February) but overall — whew. I am impressed with this direction. Ritter just announced a huge string of tour dates and is absolutely worth seeing live, an energetic and masterful performer.
PopMatters has a divine article trying to pin down those varied vocalizations that singers have been throwing in the midst of their songs since time memoriam. Maybe James Brown is the best-known for his off-the-wall hollers, but read about the rest. Here are some snippets from the extremely well-written and entertaining article, as author Zeth Lundy takes you through the different species of yowl — and you know I had to include a few of the songs in question:
The Columbus (or, the Land Ho!) The wild-eyed whoop of abandon, emitted early when a song kicks into its full roar and meant, in part, as an alarm for the impending auditory devastation. Consider it rock ‘n’ roll etiquette, not unlike that exhibited on the golf green: heads up, ‘cause this one’s gonna rock you in places you didn’t know existed. Gaz Coombes demonstrates this nicely in Supergrass’sRichard III (1997), letting fly a preparatory yell in concurrence with the landslide entry of the bass and drums. He whoops it up like a man who has a storied history with whooping, one which he would probably recount over a few pints even though he’s a bit tired of doing so. This particular example is compounded by how Coombes sets up the holler with a brief prelude of tritone guitar riffage—ye olde Devil’s interval!—that stokes the song’s start-up with a bit of horned provocation. See also: the Faces’Stay With Me (1971), at the moment that the double-time intro downshifts to that filthy pub shuffle—as good a time as any for Rod Stewart to launch a Columbus, back when a Rod Stewart Columbus actually meant something.
The Phantom Columbus Quite possibly the most common and unnoticed improvisatory hoot, this occurs deep in the background of a song’s mix, always at a moment where all other instruments drop out, and usually at the song’s onset. In essence, it’s a Columbus (the hasty shout-out predicting some kind of calamitous rapture), but it’s not necessarily one intended to be heard by the public at-large, since it’s only serendipitously picked up by a microphone that just happens to be dedicated to another instrument. Really listen—put on the noise-isolating headphones, crank up the volume to that decibel the doctor warned you about—and you’ll catch more Phantom Columbuses than you’ll care to count. Two songs in particular sport perceptible examples of this holler: Superdrag’sSold You an Alibi (1998) and Mission of Burma’s2wice (2006). It occurs during the opening of both songs, between the gutsy plunges of the former’s wicked guitar riff and immediately after the latter’s colossal solo drum foundation. See also: the first few seconds of the Rolling Stones’ Can’t You Hear Me Knocking (1971), soon after the drums are introduced to that impeccably slouching guitar.
When you think of Supergrass, it’s probable that you think of ungainly muttonchop sideburns, music videos of them romping through a grassy park, and a lead singer who I find reminiscent of the lead flying monkey in the Wizard of Oz. The playful indie-rock quartet from Oxford stopped by the KCRW studios in September of 2004 to record some nice acoustic versions of songs from I Should Coco (1995), In It For The Money (1997) and Life on Other Planets (2003).
It’s a harmonic, bright, and thoroughly enjoyable little set.
Name: Heather Browne Location: Colorado, originally by way of California Giving context to the torrent since 2005.
"I love the relationship that anyone has with music: because there's something in us that is beyond the reach of words, something that eludes and defies our best attempts to spit it out. It's the best part of us, probably, the richest and strangest part..."
—Nick Hornby, Songbook
"Music has always been a matter of energy to me, a question of Fuel. Sentimental people call it Inspiration, but what they really mean is Fuel." —Hunter S. Thompson
Mp3s are for sampling purposes, kinda like when they give you the cheese cube at Costco, knowing that you'll often go home with having bought the whole 7 lb. spiced Brie log. They are left up for a limited time. If you LIKE the music, go and support these artists, buy their schwag, go to their concerts, purchase their CDs/records and tell all your friends. Rock on.
Oxford Britpop/rock foursome 
I found time to duck into Amoeba Records in Berkeley and Streetlight Records in San Jose. I drove many miles of California highway, waited approximately 832 hours for flights, and I’m pretty sure that some of my underthings were swiped from my luggage by a Transportation Security Administration minion. Never pack em in the outside pocket.
Name: Heather Browne
