Various Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus - Volumes 1 & 2

Various Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus - Volumes 1 & 2

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Happy Birthday, Baby Jesusis the CD reissue of two 10-inch vinyl LP's released in 1993 and 1994 by uber indie label Sympathy For The Record Industry - plus, as the CD booklet states, "some stuff that's new." Captured at the height of post-modern, alt-rock mania, the Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus bands fairly ooze irony and drip sarcasm. Nary a single cut has a sincerely festive perspective on the high Christian holiday. Now, that's hardly a bad thing - I love a good piss take, and the Christmas holiday is worthy target - The thing is, I really want to like this album better. I mean, the song titles alone are pretty entertaining. "Little Drummer Bitch" (Red Aunts), "Last On Santa's List" (Fireworks), "Christmastime Is For Sinners" (Mono Men), and especially "Merry Christmas Fuck You" (Jet Boys) merit a belly laugh before needle ever touches vinyl (or laser strikes aluminum, or electrons speed through cyberspace, or whatever). But, well, many of those songs aren't very good. Alternative music, particularly the sort that Sympathy For The Record Industry trafficked in, is often as much about posture as it is about craft. But, musicality has to count for something, and a large slice of Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus borders on unlistenable.But, lest I damn with faint praise, the highlights are unique, memorable, and plentiful - I rated more than half the tracks as essential. And, strangely enough, they tend to be the songs played well, or enthusiastically, or both - not shrugged off with post-modern ennui. A number of notable alternative bands turn in solid - if less than spectacular - performances, including the Muffs ("Nothing For Me"), Rocket From The Crypt ("Cancel Christmas"), and the Supersuckers ("We'll Call It Christmastime"). There's even a couple of rip-roaring traditional instrumentals by Man Or Astroman ("Frosty The Snowman") and the Bomboras ("Little Drummer Boy").Hands down, though, the two very best tracks are El Vez's wacky "Feliz Navi-Nada" and an ebullient, if profane, take on "Christmas Is A-Comin' (May God Bless You)" by the Shitbirds. In the forrmer, El Vez - who specializes in comically mashing up Elvis songs with unexpected rock classics - fuses Jose Feliciano's hispanic classic, "Feliz Navidad," with Sex Pistol John Lydon's solo debut, "Public Image." It's one of his best-ever concepts, and it's a distorted remix of a track that appeared the same year on his album "Merry MeX-mas." "Christmas Is A-Comin'" is just a hoot, really, and it features a young Elinor Blake who, as April March, would go on to create an impressive catalog of indie rock and neo-lounge music - much of it inspired by classic French pop, believe it or not.Indeed, it's moments like that make the Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus releases far more than an artifacts of the mordant 90's - if less than the unqualified post-punk Christmas classics I wish they were. In the years following their release, music and technology changed immensely, and weird-ass Christmas records by disaffected youth became commonplace - meaning, it's hard to imagine what an unusual thing these records were in their day. Back then, punks and alt-rock geeks rarely took the time to do a piss take on Christmas, let alone cobble together a whole double album of the things. That they did is a good thing, even when it hurts my ears to listen.Trivia fans, no doubt, will want to know what vintage LP covers were employed (parodied, ripped off, whatever) by Sympathy for the Record Industry to create the cover art for Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus. The three editions, respectively, are derived from Lawrence Welk's Jingle Bells (Coral, 1957), Christmas With Patti Page (Mercury, 1956), and Christmas With the Mexicali Brass (Crown, 1967). Pooping all over history is just part of the fun, I guess.

Various Punk Rock Xmas

Various Punk Rock Xmas

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Ah, it's the time of year again. Crowded malls, holiday decorations and, of course, punk rock. What better way to celebrate the season than by sitting next to the fire with your hot chocolate and listening to Punk Rock Christmas? Containing a few covers of standards (the Dickies do "Silent Night" while Stiff Little Fingers cover "White Christmas") and a few songs that became punk rock classics (the Ramones' "Merry Christmas (I Don't Want to Fight Tonight)" and Fear's "Fuck Christmas"), it's a fun record that at the very least has replayable novelty. Starting off on a high note, the Ravers' "Punk Rock Christmas" details what it would be like if the whole country went punk rock for a day with "All those Christmas trees swinging safety pins from their leaves." But the best couplet on the record goes to Pansy Division's "Homo Christmas" (You'll probably get sweaters, underwear and socks / But what you'd really like for Christmas is a nice hard cock"). The Damned and Boquet of Veal are also in full force; I didn't know so many punk bands have Grade-A Christmas related songs under their belt. Comedy is the center for these songs, and the fun, light tone never really lets up until D.I.'s plodding long, cover of "Mr. Grinch," which brings the record to a grinding halt. But being that we're dealing with punk rock here, the songs are brisk and go by quickly; that one slip-up doesn't ruin its listenability. An astute reader will notice, being that this came out in 1995, it doesn't include Blink 182's seminal "I Won't Be Home for Christmas." But hey, this is the age of technology! Rip this CD and tack that one at the end (with maybe the Vandals' "Oi to the World" as well), and you have the best collection of songs for a mohawked kid dreading yet another commercialized holiday season.

Cranes Forever

Cranes Forever

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Bookended by two tracks that essentially are the same piece -- "Everywhere," a quicker, almost dancy number that still sounds uniquely Cranes, and the slower, stripped-down "Rainbows" -- Forever finds Cranes moving from strength to strength. Having reached a new level of variety and elegant restraint combined with brusque power on Wings of Joy, the foursome continued exploring such combinations on Forever without simply rehashing the previous album. If anything, the album went to extremes in both directions -- the quieter moments were even more hushed and shadowed, the louder points all that much more whip-snap cruel. "Cloudless" remains the album's most sweetly beautiful, truly haunting moment. Over what sounds like a synthesized combination of plucked violin and keyboards, doubtless played by Jim Shaw, sister Alison delivers a softly husky vocal that slowly grows in strength. More synth strings swell up in the background, just enough, followed later by gentle electric guitar and at the end distant drums. On a completely different tip, there's "Clear," its searing, blunt lead guitar line matched by a massive rhythm slam, only occasionally interrupted by a quieter moment or two before launching back into the full band attack. "Jewel" ended up being a surprise U.K. and U.S. hit, though thanks to a somewhat transformed remix courtesy of longtime fan Robert Smith (in fact, Forever takes its name from a Cure rarity of the same title). On the album, Jim Shaw's original rougher drums stand out, but the attractive poppy groove of the song remains the same, Alison Shaw's singing at her clearest yet over the simple but effective acoustic guitar rhythms and abrasive electric solo. Other highlights include the minimal piano-led "Far Away," with some of Alison's best vocals; the narcotic guitar chime of "Golden"; and the dramatic, blasting surge of "Adrift." [Cherry Red's 2007 reissue included seven bonus tracks, including the pretty, brittle instrumental "The Puppet" and the slow crawl of "Shine Like Stars'')

 

Dead Can Dance The Serpent's Egg

Dead Can Dance The Serpent's Egg

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Perry and Gerrard continued to experiment and improve with The Serpent's Egg, as much a leap forward as Spleen and Ideal was some years previously. As with that album, The Serpent's Egg was heralded by an astounding first track, "The Host of Seraphim." Its use in films some years later was no surprise in the slightest -- one can imagine the potential range of epic images the song could call up -- but on its own it's so jaw-droppingly good that almost the only reaction is sheer awe. Beginning with a soft organ drone and buried, echoed percussion, Gerrard then takes flight with a seemingly wordless invocation of power and worship -- her vocal control and multi-octave range, especially towards the end, has to be heard to be believed. Nothing else achieves such heights, but everything gets pretty darn close, a deserved testament to the band's conceptual reach and abilities. Slow plainsong chants such as "Orbis De Ignis" mix with the harpischord and overlaid vocals of "The Writing on My Father's Hand" and the slow build and sweep of "In the Kingdom of the Blind the One-Eyed Are Kings." Two of Perry's finest vocal moments occur here. The first, "Severance," is a slow, organ/keyboard led number that showcases his rich, warm vocals exquisitely -- it's no wonder that Bauhaus chose to cover it some years later on its reunion tour. "Ullyses," the album's closing track, makes for a fine ending as much as "The Host of Seraphim" did an opening, Perry's delivery almost like a reading from a holy book, the arrangement of strings and percussion rhythmic, addictive and lovely.

Handsome Boy Modeling School So... How's Your Girl

Handsome Boy Modeling School So... How's Your Girl

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The concept behind Handsome Boy Modeling School -- if you separate it from its origins in a Chris Elliott sitcom -- can be taken as a subtle parody of hip-hop's player affectations: two geeky producers masquerading as jet-set male models. Given that framework, and the fact that those two producers are eccentric geniuses Prince Paul and Dan the Automator, you might expect So...How's Your Girl? to be a goof from top to bottom. And that isn't the case. The album ends up as more of a showcase for their eclecticism, tailoring productions to their collaborators and creating a colorful universe where classicist rap, turntablism, trip-hop, and electronica all get along comfortably. Parts of the album are surprisingly atmospheric, and rely more on the texture of the sound than the star power of the guest -- which makes sense for a producer's album. The finished product does lack some of the sheer craziness one might have anticipated, but the meatiness of the best music also keeps the Elliott-centered comedic interludes from turning the project into a mere novelty. The DJ cuts -- the duo's own "Rock n' Roll (Could Never Hip Hop Like This)" and the DJ Shadow/DJ Quest team-up "Holy Calamity (Bear Witness II)" -- are some of the most exciting tracks on the album, and of the rappers, Del tha Funkee Homosapien and Brand Nubian's Grand Puba and Sadat X turn in the most memorable performances. The electronic collaborations range the farthest afield, and provide some of the most intriguing highlights -- especially the bluesy trip-hop of "The Truth," featuring Moloko crooner Roisin Murphy. Meanwhile, Alec Empire and El-P -- each arguably the most abrasive experimentalist in his field -- live up to their billing on the massively distorted "Megaton B-Boy 2000." It's true that a few of the quirkier experiments never quite get off the ground, but by and large, So...How's Your Girl? is packed with imaginative, intriguing music.

Beastie Boys Hello Nasty

Beastie Boys Hello Nasty

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The last of the Beastie Boys albums to receive deluxe reissue treatment, Hello Nasty is nearly doubled in length thanks to a 21-track bonus disc. Although Hello Nasty was released at the height of multi-part CD singles, thereby producing several hits with multiple B-sides, this second disc isn't a clearinghouse of remixes; each of the main singles -- "Intergalactic," "Putting Shame in Your Game," "Body Movin'," "The Negotiation Limerick File" -- is represented by one remix (with the notable exception of "Body Movin'," whose Fatboy Slim remix was in the video and on the radio, so it makes perfect sense that it's repeated here). Otherwise, the notable non-LP B-sides are here -- "Hail Sagan (Special K)," "Peanut Butter & Jelly" -- along with a host of previously unreleased outtakes, including rehearsals and joking around in the studio that maintains the hazy, trippy vibe of the original album.

Various In The Beginning There Was Rhythm

Various In The Beginning There Was Rhythm

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Angular guitars, funk- and disco-influenced rhythms, dabblings with electronic gadgetry, leftist politics, a dash of irony, and vocals that aren't so much yelled or sung as they're chanted or detachedly intoned must mean one thing and one thing only: post-punk. At the time of In the Beginning There Was Rhythm's release, the level of resurgent interest in the style was so high that one might've expected a ten-part documentary series from Ken Burns. In reality, even Burns himself could've told you that there wasn't a need for a "23 Skidoo: Ken Burns Post-Punk" compilation by the end of 2001. (Well, actually, he would've left them out of the series, so the point is probably moot.) After all, that artery was plugging quickly -- even the smallest blips on the U.K. 1978-1982 radar were re-registering with releases that paired small-time pressings of singles with live shows and otherwise abandoned material. Suddenly, aunties and uncles across the United Kingdom were recollecting sparsely attended gigs by Crispy Ambulance, Drinking Electricity, the Stunt Kites, and the Normil Hawaiians. Meanwhile, across the pond, books like Our Band Could Be Your Life were documenting the American side of post-punk (slightly later and rather different) and bands like Mission of Burma re-joined to play old favorites and don new kneepads. But throughout all of this nostalgic hoopla, one piece of the U.K. post-punk puzzle remained missing: a definitive compilation. The legendary Wanna Buy a Bridge? and C81 compilations (both of which had ties to Rough Trade, a label, shop, and distributor that helped birth the scene) were released while the ball was rolling in the early '80s, but they became valuable out-of-print artifacts of the period at some point. Furthermore, the bootlegged labor of love Messthetics series took the hunter-gathering obscurantism of Nuggets a few steps further into the darkness of collector scumdom. So along came the trusted Soul Jazz label to help matters...and the puzzle remains incomplete. However, the intent with 2002's In the Beginning There Was Rhythm wasn't to provide something definitive. Nothing short of an exhaustive multi-disc set could do such a thing with post-punk, as the scene was far too fertile and vast to distill the whole thing down to 11 songs by nine bands. One hope is that this disc will spawn a series similar to Soul Jazz's own Dynamite series of reggae compilations. Despite the drunken record-shop bins, there are many untapped post-punk resources the label could still cover, and much like the Dynamite series, In the Beginning does a spectacular job of combining the known with the not so known. Within its tightly wrapped confines, In the Beginning demonstrates post-punk's breadth, showcasing within the grooves, jabs, and rattling waves of static the style's influences (disco, funk, reggae, Krautrock, electronic experimentation) and the styles that the style influenced (indie rock, post-rock, almost every stripe of dance music that followed) at the same time. The Human League's "Being Boiled" represents synth pop at ground zero and, like absolutely everything else here, continues to sound fresh and eminently exciting. Throbbing Gristle's "20 Jazz Funk Greats," Cabaret Voltaire's "Sluggin fer Jesus," and This Heat's "24 Track Loop" also lean toward the electronic side of the fence, abandoning guitar heroics for tape splicing, samples, and studio-manipulated scrap heaps of gray noise, all the while finding a way to coax out jerky rhythms through rhythm box throbs, handclaps, and non-traditional means (i.e., no discernible bass or drums) via repetition. Songs from Gang of Four (the perfect choice with "To Hell With Poverty," boasting their best groove), the Pop Group, the Slits (the title track), 23 Skidoo, and A Certain Ratio (one of which is a cover of Banbarra's obscuro funk pearl "Shack Up") embrace funk and reggae in varying degrees, keeping the bass and drums as the central (and often only) focus and using guitars in a pointillistic fashion (if at all), all the while distancing themselves from traditional rock & roll methods and attitudes. Topping it off is a thick booklet full of photos and liner notes that cover each band and tie the music in with the social climate they were residing in. And while one might bemoan the exclusion of Public Image Limited, Associates, the Normal, Magazine, or other bands crucial to the ideology, there's no denying that In the Beginning There Was Rhythm is a great gateway into this expansive, fruitful, trailblazing era.

Various Avon Calling The Bristol Compilation

Various Avon Calling The Bristol Compilation

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The post-punk scene of the late '70s and early '80s is to contemporary indie rock fans what the mid-'60s garage rock scene was to the post-punk scene of the late '70s and early '80s: both a source of musical inspiration and a seemingly inexhaustible resource for obscure, often weird, but sometimes magical 45s. One of the golden ages of D.I.Y. indie rock, rare post-punk from this era is still being uncovered over a quarter-century later. The two-disc Avon Calling: The Bristol Compilation has a handful of tracks by bands not entirely unknown -- the Glaxo Babies are represented with six tracks, including their career high point "Christine Keeler," and the Art Objects (later to become Brit-pop stars as the Blue Aeroplanes) have their excellent "Showing Off to Impress the Girls" dusted off -- but nearly all of these bands and songs will be all but unknown to all but the most hardcore collector geeks. What's most illuminating about Avon Calling for those who weren't there the first time around is that it puts the lie to the narrow definition of post-punk that has grown in the popular imagination since the turn of the millennium, when it seems that this era in British pop music consisted solely of bands that sounded sort of like either Joy Division or the Human League. As a matter of fact, there's little Manchester gloom or straight synth pop among these 46 songs. Instead, the Private Dicks' "Green Is in the Red" and the Stingrays' "Sound" are brisk, sunny power pop with tuneful choruses and great guitar riffs. Some songs are simply re-purposed '70s art rock with the proggy noodling and flashy solos cut out; the Europeans' "On the Continent" and Moskow's "Too Much Information" don't really sound all that different from contemporaneous singles by the likes of 10cc or Manfred Mann's Earth Band. Other songs keep the second-wave punk flag flying, the like X-Certs' "Anthem" and the female-fronted Vice Squad's appealingly bratty "Nothing." Other songs come off as weak carbon copies: the mod pop of Vitus Dance's "Down at the Park" is a little too close to the sound of All Mod Cons-era Jam. Ditto the Slits-like dub reggae of Double Vision's "My Dead Mother" and "List 99." On the other hand, the lo-fi D.I.Y. rush of the quirky but accessible "Desire" by Sneak Preview and the Skodas' shrieky minimalism of "Everybody Thinks Everybody Else Is Dead Bad" and "Mouth" does sounds quite a bit like what most people think of when they think of U.K. post-punk these days. Touches like a bit of John Peel introducing the Glaxo Babies' "It's Irrational" and an interesting, scene-setting radio interview by DJ Simon Edwards set the social context. This might seem like the sort of compilation that's mostly for boffins, but there is enough solid material on Avon Calling: The Bristol Compilation to make it worth recommending to even the casual fan of the style.

Turin Brakes Ether Song

Turin Brakes Ether Song

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Since their first release on Anvil Records way back in 1999, Ollie Knights and Gale Paridjanian's Turin Brakes has enjoyed a meteoric rise, making the short list for Best Newcomer at the annual British Music Industry awards before underlining the not inconsiderable sales of their inaugural full-length, The Optimist, with a Mercury nomination shortly afterwards. Notably, they didn't win, but both assisted in building a groundswell of support into a veritable force majeure which resulted in this sophomore follow-up cracking open the U.K. Top Ten on the week of its release. While their aforementioned debut revelled in its low fidelity, the pair chose to draft in Tony Hoffer -- accomplished producer for such notables as Air and Beck -- for Ether Song. The resultant album builds considerable muscle to the skeletal frailty of intricate guitar work while commendably maintaining all that was good from their debut. The opening "Blue Hour" sets the tone for the rest of the album, a sprawling analogue introduction brought into focus through the fret skills of Paridjanian, before Knights' angelic vocal appears like an apparition from the aural fog. Obvious singles "Painkiller" and "Long Distance" echo the singalong sensibilities of previous hits "Emergency 72" and "Underdog," but there is much, much more here -- Hoffer having evidently oiled the screechy little Brakes -- "Panic Attack" conjuring up the paranoiac side of Syd Barrett as "Little Brother" rocks like The Optimist never quite managed to. Despite these diversions however, it is the softly spoken cuts which make for the highlights with "Full of Stars" and the closing "Ether Song," both stunning examples of a band that still have more to offer

Feeder Pushing The Senses

Feeder Pushing The Senses

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Released in the wake of drummer Jon Lee's tragic suicide, Feeder's last release, the unsurprisingly emotionally driven Comfort in Sound, may have alienated their early Kerrang! metalhead audience, but after plugging away on the British pub rock circuit for several years, it pushed them closely toward the kind of arena rock territory occupied by the likes of U2 and Coldplay. After supporting Chris Martin and company on their European tour, the Welsh three-piece's fourth studio album, which features a track with Parachutes producer Ken Nelson at the helm (the melancholic piano-led ballad "Frequency"), shows that the sellout accusations hurled at them since their commercial breakthrough haven't scared them off from attempting to compete with the big boys. But apart from the crunching guitar chorus of lead single "Tumble and Fall" (a ham-fisted pastiche of "The Scientist") and the uplifting "Feeling a Moment," which has since become a ubiquitous football montage soundtrack, Pushing the Senses doesn't appear to be as concerned with anthemic indie as its predecessor. Apparently inspired by the simplicity of John Lennon's piano-based songs, the wistful sweet melodies of "Tender" and the string-soaked "Pain on Pain" could indeed have been lifted from his seminal Imagine album, but elsewhere, Gil Norton's production owes more to the Americana rock of bands like Monster-era R.E.M. (the blistering title track), the Flaming Lips (the swoon-some dream pop closer "Dove Grey Sands"), and Grandaddy (the haunting spacy "Bitter Glass"). The thrashing rock of "Pilgrim Soul" may briefly appease fans of their earlier grungier material, but on the whole, Pushing the Senses is an introspective and understated affair that unashamedly embraces their newfound mature sensibilities.

The Wake Here Comes Everybody

The Wake Here Comes Everybody

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The Wake's second album is so much better than their first, 1982's Harmony, that the earlier album may safely be forgotten, or at least thought of as a painful growing lesson. Here Comes Everybody, which, like the Glasgow quartet's name, is derived from James Joyce's Finnegans Wake, is a lost treasure of mid-'80s U.K. indie pop. Bandleader Gerard "Caesar" McInulty's Byrds-via-Bunnymen guitar is pushed more to the forefront than ever before, even as his breathy voice is pushed so far back into the mix that his melancholy lyrics are difficult to distinguish. Steven Allen's drums and Alex MacPherson's bass are equally low-key, finally allowing the band to once and for all escape the Joy Division-wannabe tag that had plagued them ever since their first single, "On Our Honeymoon." Dark-hued but not gloomy, the eight songs on Here Comes Everybody are musically varied enough to keep from sounding too samey. The wistful "Melancholy Man," with its gliding melody, artless vocals, and jangling guitars, sounds like a template for Sarah Records, the influential U.K. indie label the Wake would eventually sign with; the summery, melodica-driven "A World of Her Own" recalls early Prefab Sprout with its rare duet vocal by keyboardist Carolyn Allen. However, it's the closing title track that's a particular standout. A seven-minute epic with a hypnotic guitar riff and an air of quiet menace, "Here Comes Everybody" is a brooding meditation on lost love with a tightly wound, contents-under-pressure edge that threatens to explode but never quite does. It's a most impressive end to a surprisingly excellent album.

Section 25 From The Hip

Section 25 From The Hip

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Having dabbled with synth-driven pop and electro elements for a couple of singles released after Key of Dreams, the Cassidy brothers decided to run further from their past and immerse themselves completely in technology while making a concerted attempt to be less dour. With the smart addition of Larry's wife Jenny Ross on vocals and keyboards (going by Cassidy could have meant confusion with the Partridge Family), the group recorded their third and best album with Bernard Sumner. Packed with a surprising amount of emotional range and sounds into eight songs, From the Hip succeeds in transporting the group out of the endlessly glum corner they had painted themselves into with a mix of the hopeful, the melancholy, the synthetic, and the organic. "Looking from the Hilltop" is the obvious highlight, a moody electro-pop classic sung by Ross that became a favorite at several New York clubs. "Reflection," a proto-twee pop song (also sung by Ross), slackens the tension of "Hilltop" with buoyant synth-percussion and a bright melody. The biggest gulf between songs exists with "Program for Light" and "Desert"; the former is a hyper-speed electro instrumental that races along until being interrupted by a thunderclap that ushers in the latter, which uses little more than echo-heavy piano, acoustic guitar, and hardly-sung vocals. The remaining songs at their worst serve the whole and act as bridges to make the album flow deceptively well. (Some ears may have trouble with Larry Cassidy's adjustment from moaning post-punk vocals to pop vocals -- he's no Martin Fry.) The flow could take several plays to become apparent, but it's time well spent. Les Temps Modernes' 1998 reissue nearly doubles the original version's running time with seven bonus tracks, including two additional mixes each of "Looking from a Hilltop," "Beating Heart," and the zip-bang electro revision of Always Now's "Dirty Disco," along with the 12" version of "Back to Wonder." The mixes of "Hilltop" don't add all that much value. "Beating Heart" (one of the finest New Order songs not written or recorded by New Order) and "Back to Wonder" (fragile, glistening pop) are excellent,

 

The Durutti Column Vini Reilly

The Durutti Column Vini Reilly

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Less of an intentionally confusing title than might be thought, Reilly for all intents and purposes is Durutti no matter the changes through the years -- Vini Reilly does signal another new phase of the band's work, moving into a full embrace of technological possibilities via an Akai sampler. With Reilly and Mitchell joined by a slew of guests -- Swing Out Sister keyboardist Andy Connell; singers Pol, Rob Gray, and Liu Sola; and even former member John Metcalfe on the epic surge "Finding the Sea" -- Durutti this time around pursued the organic/machine combination to even more successful conclusions than on The Guitar. Reilly's singing has often come in for criticism (unwarranted, really, considering how his soft approach effortlessly suits the general atmosphere of Durutti's work), so the slew of sampled and borrowed snippets from other vocalists and musicians that pepper the album makes for an intriguing change. "Love No More," the album opener, shows how the approach can work, with acoustic guitar to the fore and echoed, truly haunting snippets of what sound like soul and opera singers wafting through the mix. Another full-on highlight is "Otis," with Pol's live singing and Connell's keyboards combining with a brisk synth loop, building Mitchell drums, an astonishing, uplifting Reilly guitar line, and the legendary singer Mr. Redding himself in a combination that needs to be heard. Mitchell's overall work on percussion is less prominent than before but still present, while Reilly's guitar efforts are again simply wonderful, further testing new approaches on both acoustic and electric that call to mind everyone from John Fahey to Bootsy Collins. If that last comparison seems strange, give the loud and funky "People's Pleasure Park" a listen, then marvel at how Sola's lovely singing and Reilly's further guitar runs transform it yet again. The 1996 reissue is one of the most comprehensive of the series, including not merely two more tracks recorded around that time but selections from Sporadic Recordings. Given by Reilly to a friend to release, as Factory otherwise couldn't easily fit it into its own schedule, it's a generally more stripped-down affair. The six numbers here include a variety of winners like the upbeat, appropriately titled "Real Drums -- Real Drummer" and the Pat Nevin/football tribute "Shirt No. 7." " 

A Certain Ratio I'd Like To See You Again

A Certain Ratio I'd Like To See You Again

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Following the new wave classic Sextet, this Manchester/New York post-punk funk unit's third album, I'd Like to See You Again, points toward a more minimal, stripped-down funk sound. This was apparently influenced heavily by the New York club scene of the early '80s, in which A Certain Ratio immersed themselves following their formation in Manchester. The departure of vocalist Martha Tilson left the band working in a more rhythmic instrumental approach, eschewing the pop forms of Sextet and focusing on a harder electro-funk sound. While this revealed the influence of time spent in club culture and marked a radical departure from the melancholy Manchester sound of their previous albums, the band kept their melodic passages intact, which created a tension between bright and dark moods that was the striking characteristic of their best work. The fact that this album fared well on the dancefloor some 20 years after its release may indicate that A Certain Ratio was ahead of their time. Their influence could be heard cropping up in strains of the Brit-pop, techno, post-rock, and house of the late '90s. Hence, I'd Like to See You Again is an album that deserves a revisit. Essential listening for fans of the Factory sound that spawned the British club sound exemplified by New Order and the New York wave of minimal funk groups, like Liquid Liquid and ESG.

Hard-Fi Stars Of CCTV Japan Limited Edition

Hard-Fi Stars Of CCTV Japan Limited Edition

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Naturally, NME called Hard-Fi's debut album, Stars of CCTV, "the album of the year" upon its U.K. release in 2005. A year later, the Staines, England, foursome had a Mercury Music Prize nomination under its belt as well as two Brit Awards nods and a U.K. number one album. Those following the buzz on the other side of the Atlantic finally got their wish with the domestic release of Stars of CCTV in mid-March. With the popularity of Franz Ferdinand, Kasabian, and the Kaiser Chiefs simmering down around this time, Hard-Fi stepped into the American pop conscience when they were supposed to. While their spark and spunk are near matches of those aforementioned acts, Hard-Fi delivers more of an angst kind of performance. Frontman Richard Archer is fueled by Tony Blair's England. After all, these are four friends from a southwest London town. They sound like a garage band while delving into the monotony of everyday suburban life, referring to their small town upbringing. Thus a raw kind of work ethic gradually emerges on Stars of CCTV. Their formula of snappy choruses and tight guitar hooks, particularly on "Middle Eastern Holiday" and "Gotta Reason," captures Hard-Fi's youthful presentation. Archer's boyish vocals switch off between gritty and playful. If "Living for the Weekend" does not convince you of Hard-Fi's anxious effort in getting you to ease up on the ho-hum of working for a living, the fresh disco beats of "Hard to Beat" surely will. Hard-Fi's desire to create something solid enjoyable in the midst of everyday monotony is what makes Stars of CCTV an enjoyable first effort. Whether they are singing about having little money, unexpected pregnancy ("Cash Machine"), or a war-torn world ("Feltham's Singing Out"), Hard-Fi looks for something positive. Stars of CCTV offers a reason to look for something positive

Kasabian Kasabian Japanese Edition

Kasabian Kasabian Japanese Edition

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Pre-release hubbub might have you thinking Kasabian's debut is the Stone Roses' firstborn all over again, or that it's a Screamadelica for its generation. Almost, but these lads could use one more spin around the U.K.'s hippest clubs to really polish their craft to Madchester-in-its-prime level. What their debut succeeds in providing is out-of-the-gate excitement, a trippy sack of playful ideas, and a keen understanding of what makes hips sway and heads bob. If hearing Stereolab backing Ian Brown is your dream, "Reason Is Treason" should be your indie rock seducer. If you always wished prog rock danced in baggy jeans, "Test Transmission" should do it. A couple tracks that are show-ers more than grow-ers keep the album from being perfect, but when a Disneyland/Perrey-Kingsley-style keyboard riff plays over a dubby landscape and then gives way to an earnest, catchy hippie chorus, you can't help but fall in love with this ambitious, smart band. You can fill the ashtray with roaches during the cinematic "Butcher Blues" and make your Tangerine Dream-loving friend happy with the space rock meets angst rock of "U Boat." Lead singer Tom Meighan is one part Jagger and one part Richards, with a Beatles haircut and quote-generating, rebellious-interview mouth. They all live together commune style and their sleeves and badges use near-Rage Against the Machine imagery. Heavy, but their debut is a shaggy kind of charming that would work better if you tripped over it instead of having the hype trying to squeeze the word "revolutionary" out of your throat. Painting them as rock's saviors just makes the overly ambitious moments of the album look all that much bigger. Some serious heartbreak, or life for a little while outside of the commune, should broaden these songwriters' abilities to the level promised, but for now they're just exciting, groovy, and proud fathers of a dazzling debut.

Various Fifteen Years Of Hacienda Nights

Various Fifteen Years Of Hacienda Nights

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From 1982 - 1997, 15 years of club culture have been put together in one collection showing the progression of club anthems through the years. With contemporary hits from Armand Van Helden (The Funk Phenomena), The Bucketheads (The Bomb), Basement Jaxx (Fly Life) as well as some old classics like New Order/Rockers Revenge (Confusion/ Walking On Sunshine), Alison Limerick (Where Love Lives), Dee Lite (Wild Times), and Londonbeat (There's an Acid House Going On), this is a great diverse collection.

Various Discotheque Volume 1 The Hacienda

Various Discotheque Volume 1 The Hacienda

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The dance community already owes New Order a significant amount of respect and praise for the band's contributions, but few casual fans of dance music realize just how much the group fostered the club scene in the U.K. during the '80s and '90s. Case in point: the Haçienda, a nightclub largely founded by Factory Records owner Tony Wilson. The money from New Order's record sales helped to keep the club afloat, especially during the early years when acts such as Cabaret Voltaire would only fill half the floor. As the club grew and the explosion of electronic dance music from the U.S. infiltrated the other side of the pond, the Haçienda's club nights became the place to see the newest dance acts and hear the latest sounds played by DJs. This two-disc set covers some of the most well-known dancefloor fillers of the time, including Yazoo's "Situation," Peech Boys' "Don't Make Me Wait," and Detroit techno anthems such as Cybotron's "Clear" and Derrick May's "Nude Photo." Complete with astonishingly detailed liner notes, this is a must-have for anyone who wants to experience the best the club had to offer as well as a wonderful souvenir for those lucky enough to live through the madness the first time around.

Ministry The Land Of Rape And Honey

Ministry The Land Of Rape And Honey

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The Land of Rape and Honey represented Ministry's stylistic breakthrough, combining assaultive percussion, samples, synths, and (sometimes) crunching guitars with distorted, barking vocals. For all the emphasis on the group's metal/industrial fusion, it's really only the first three (and best) tracks on Rape and Honey -- "Stigmata," "The Missing," and "Deity" -- that employ guitars extensively. The remainder of the album merely suggests heavy metal aggression through its electronic and sampled elements; it is far more industrial in feel, even though it's just as dark. Ministry was the industrial band that, more than any other, appealed to metal fans, and it was The Land of Rape and Honey that began to lay claim to that status.

Nitzer Ebb Body Of Work

Nitzer Ebb Body Of Work

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Many contemporary techno producers are deeply in the debt of Bon Harris and Douglas McCarthy, who while not godfathers of that scene are at least cherished uncles. Novamute's decision a few years back to press to wax official remixes of Nitzer Ebb anthems from artists like Terence Fixmer, Thomas P. Heckmann, and The Hacker couldn't have received a better reception. Since then, you'd be hard pressed to go to just about any hard techno event in the known world without hearing at least one of these bangers. Although a companion release featuring those reworks and others was also made available on CD recently, Body of Work, a compendium of 32 tracks including an entire disc of selected mixes, will hopefully acquaint at least some of those revellers with the originators' originals. Starting from the promising metal-on-metal spark of Warsaw Ghetto b-side "Isn't It Funny How Your Body Works," ending on Big Hit I Thought", and hitting all the necessary points in between, the first half of this double disc committedly runs through Nitzer Ebb's recording career, warts and all. Of course the hits are covered, with "Join In The Chant" and "Control, I'm Here" sounding just as incredible now as they did when I first heard them as an angsty teenager in New York City clubs. Though their best known cuts came off This Total Age and Belief ("Murderous" and "Hearts And Minds" being my personal favorites from those), there were several quite memorable singles from the subsequent, less acclaimed Showtime and Ebbhead records. "Getting Closer" and "Fun To Be Had" might not have been furious fist pumping anthems like "Let Your Body Learn," though they showcased the duo pushing their sound further, and successfully at that. The same cannot be said for the selections from 1995's Big Hit, which over a decade later still disappoint and frustrate even their most devoted fans. I'm almost certain that nothing from that critical and commercial flop even made it into the setlists of their North American reunion tour this year. What makes this compilation particularly worthwhile even for those who own all these albums is the inclusion of selected material found on the singles, including rare songs and remixes that retrospectively deserve more exposure. Many of these treats are found on the second disc, my favorites being the alternate mixes, a number of which are only available on long out-of-print singles. Ranging in style from the grit and grime of "Shame (Mix Two)" and "Control I'm Here (Strategic Dancefloor Initiative Mix) to the funkier "Fun To Be Had (Long Version)" and "Hearts And Minds (Mix Hypersonic),                     

Apollo 440 Electro Glide In Blue

Apollo 440 Electro Glide In Blue

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Their second album Electro Glide in Blue opens with a sublime short instrumental Stealth Overture, before launching in earnest into the second single Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Dub. Largely built around a Van Halen sample with some lively drum and bass affectations, it’s both iconic and great, although I suspect if you weren’t there in 1997, it would be more than a little difficult to understand why. Altamont Super-Highway Revisited is next, perhaps one of the weaker tracks on here, but it bounces along pleasantly enough until we get to title track Electro Glide in Blue, a dark eight-and-a-half minute odyssey full of self-doubt and angst. From one epic to another, Vanishing Point is next, a gentle drum and bass piece with enormous vocal pads and even bigger bass. While most people were busy hanging around being sultry in soundalike indie bands, Apollo 440 were to be found creating seven or eight minute electronic opuses. That is not to say that guitars don’t have their place here, as Tears of the Gods demonstrates, with a great vocal from Charles Bukowski, but the guitar work here is altogether more soulful than what most people were throwing around in the mid-1990s. Final single Carrera Rapida is next, the theme from a computer game called Rapid Racer, and the single came with a great CD containing all the background music from the game, all built around the theme of this track. By itself, it’s lively, but probably not the best thing on here. Then comes the lead single Krupa, an homage to a drummer called Gene Krupa, and so the focus of the piece is largely the drumming, with a couple of repeated synth lines over the top. It’s entirely unexpected, but very good nonetheless. Following a quieter moment with White Man’s Throat, the finest moment on the album comes with the glorious Pain in Any Language, featuring Billy Mackenzie on vocals. It’s another long one, clocking in at nearly nine minutes in duration, but right from the start the slightly Asian sounding chimes and emotive vocals really make you feel something special. That only leaves us to return to the beginning for an enormous pseudo-classical piece Stealth Mass in F#m, which with its choral vocals seems slightly out of place, unless you’re happy to accept that Apollo 440 were really just doing whatever they wanted here, a fact which is comfortably backed up by the bonus track on the end, the other single Raw Power, a hugely energetic piece that shakes you up rather after the gentler ending which preceded it.

Utah Saints Utah Saints

Utah Saints Utah Saints

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Utah Saints' self-titled full-length is full of joyous, electronic rave-ups. The album works most successfully when the band is using inspired samples toward their pop electronica goals. "Something Good" and "What Can You Do for Me" have to be the most popular moments extracted from the album. They are also, by far, the album's best songs. Sampling alternative diva Kate Bush's airy vocals, from her song "Cloudbursting," "Something Good" becomes a fast, fun ride. Jez Willis and Tim Garbutt warp and twist Bush's vocals of "I just know that something good is gonna happen" every which way they can, creating a mesmerizing rave-busting anthem to joy. The song is stunning in its power to get a dancefloor moving. Who would have thought a Kate Bush chorus could be turned into a first-rate dance song? "What Can You Do for Me" does the same thing for Annie Lennox that "Something Good" did for Kate Bush. The song sees Utah Saints sampling all sorts of vocal segments and musical elements from the Eurythmics' "There Must Be an Angel Playing With My Heart." The song doesn't take off with the energy of "Something Good," but it's still an aural treat, mixing moody, flanged vocals, a promoter's screams, and a worthwhile beat. "New Gold Dream" attempts another reworking, this time of a Simple Minds' song, to lesser, but enjoyable effect. Another area where the band mines success is when they take to making near-classical compositions in the style of dance music. This area of the band's sound is best represented by "My Mind Must Be Free" and "Trance Atlantic Glide." "My Mind Must Be Free" sounds like it was recorded at a gospel dance party. "Trance Atlantic Glide" works like a dance version of a minimal, Michael Nyman score to a Peter Greenaway film; one can picture Greenaway's strange imagery, perhaps displaced to some bizarre rave event. In between the sampled euphoria and the symphonic dabbling, there's perhaps a bit too much filler. Utah Saints sound either spread a bit too thin or like an imitation of 808 State on a number of the weaker tracks, particularly on "Too Much to Swallow"; the song is a major misstep which sees a goofy, high-pitched, and synthesized trumpet sound playing around with a pathetic drum machine sound. "I Want You" is also a weak track, sounding like a halfhearted mix of industrial dirge and a cut-and-paste rap. While the album isn't entirely worthwhile all the way through, there are enough innovation and pure energy to make it essential. With less filler, and perhaps a shorter running time, there would have been more cohesion. Still, there's so much to love, between the ear-tickling electronics and the divinely inspired samples, that one can't help but get lost in the mostly heady mix of Utah Saints.

The Beloved Happiness

The Beloved Happiness

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The Beloved co-founder and vocalist Jon Marsh has always seemed to have his finger on the pulse of cutting edge underground dance music. Admittedly: The Beloved’s first album ‘Where It Is’ released in 1987 consisted of the conventional guitar, bass and drum line-up, with Marsh on vocals and keyboards, but the 12” extended remix of ‘Forever Dancing’ taken from their debut album, sounds like something that could have been played between Shannon and New Order 12” remixes by Arthur Baker at some hip NYC club like The Fun House – in other words a dance floor slaying slab of vinyl. Last year New State Music reissued The Beloved’s previously hard to find ‘Where It Is’ album. For ‘Happiness’ The Beloved line up had changed further to just Jon Marsh and guitarist Steve Waddington, whose visits to Danny Rampling’s Shoom club that started in the basement of a fitness centre in Southwark during the late 1980’s steered where The Beloved were going to go next with their sound. In addition to Shoom, Marsh and Waddington soaked up the sounds of Chicago House and Balearic Beats heard in underground club nights like the Boy’s Own warehouse parties. Released in 1990, ’Happiness’ is the perfect recipe of pop and club beats with a theme of optimistic unity running through the songs. Various singles were released from the album. ‘ The Sun Rising’ was THE tune to soundtrack the arrival of daylight after dancing all night on whatever available substance whilst listening to a gigantic sound system in a cow shed off the M25 in 1989. ‘Hello’ is a logical progression in style from ‘Forever Dancing’ which was followed by the electro-heavy dance floor anthem ’Your Love Takes Me Higher’ and the slower and beautiful ‘Time After Time.’ ‘Happiness’ was produced by Martyn Philips who later worked with Erasure. The Beloved could be seen on the covers of music and fashion magazines like The Face in 1990, whilst their videos were nominated for awards and ‘Happiness’ went Gold in the UK. The remix album of ‘Happiness’ tracks ’Blissed Out’ sold equally well too. ‘Happiness’ sounds timeless today. A collection of songs that celebrate positivity and we all could do with some of that right now.

Jesus Jones Perverse

Jesus Jones Perverse

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Doubt remains to be the highlight of Jesus Jones’s career, but its immediate followup – 1993’s Perverse – would have fared as well if not for the seemingly inescapable change of musical landscape as the decade progressed. But because it is celebrating its silver anniversary, Perverse deserves a keen reassessment and an affectionate reconsideration—something that eluded it back in the days. Released on Monday, January 25, 1993, through Food/SBK Records, Perverse opened with the laser-lit Rave energy of “Zeroes and Ones.” The ensuing “Devil You May Know” was a different kind of beast – while it exuded faint echoes of the preceding album’s “International Bright Young Thing,” it certainly stood out with its Indian-inspired Psychedelic Pop, predating similar sonic trips made by the likes of Cornershop (“My Dancing Days Are Done”), Kula Shaker (“Govinda”), and Elephant Stone (“Between the Lines”). The techno-jangly “Get a Good Thing” then took the listener back to the smoky and musky dancefloor of the discothèque. And then there was the sinister sound and undulating melodies of “From Love to War.” Jesus Jones then dove into Trip-Hop territories with the lava lamp–conjuring minimalist globules of “Yellow Brown,” after which they launched into something softly metallic in the form of “Magazine.” With the following “The Right Decision,” the band delved into something melodic and progressive, almost Art Rock and New Wave. “Your Crusade” explored again Jesus Jones’s Industrial tendencies, owing to the dreamy synth melodies and buzzsaw-sharp guitar lines. Albeit still in the same dancey and spacey rhythm, the mood then slowed down with “Don’t Believe It.” A sudden shift of style occurred as “Tongue Tied” played next – percussive with a hint of R&B, only to burst into shards of razor-sharp guitar strums and bouncy synth embellishments. The same dizzying and hypnotic effect flowed into the penultimate track – the ominous and cacophonic, aptly titled “Spiral.” Finally, Jesus Jones concluded their aural perversion with the initially filmic vibes of “Idiot Stare,” which eventually transformed into an Alternative Dance stomper in the veins of New Order (“Thieves like Us”), during the legendary band’s Haçienda days. Perverse may have not been as decidedly Pop like its successful predecessor, but it proved as cohesive, more diverse, and nonetheless compelling. It simply got swiftly sidetracked by the slew of new scene darlings that gradually arrived in the mid-’90s. So, by the time Perverse started to surf the mainstream, the ever-restless commercial spotlight had already shifted its focus onto this new batch of bands that came to represent the new faces of what became Britpop.

The Wonder Stuff The Eight Legged Groove Machine

The Wonder Stuff The Eight Legged Groove Machine 

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Like the Buzzcocks with the irony meter turned to 11, or a much less sweet-natured version of the so-called "blonde pop" bands of the time (Primitives, Darling Buds, etc.), the Wonder Stuff's debut album is a crisply recorded batch of buzzy little two-minute guitar pop songs. What made the Wonder Stuff different was the arrogant brashness -- bordering on megalomania -- of singer/songwriter Miles Hunt. Hunt's lyrics, typified by song titles like "No for the 13th Time," "Give Give Give Me More More More," and especially "Astley in the Noose" (a scathing condemnation of Stock-Aitken-Waterman-brand dance pop focusing on the insipid but basically harmless Rick Astley) are cutting and sarcastic; what saves the group is the fact that they never actually tip over into mean-spiritedness. The fact that the album's title is entirely descriptive helps considerably as well. Not a one of these songs is less than catchy and memorable, and the best, like "Rue the Day" and "Some Sad Someone," are outstanding. The Eight Legged Groove Machine is to be taken with a rather large pinch of salt, but it's a most enjoyable listen.  

           

Doves The Best Of Doves (The Places Between)

Doves The Best Of Doves (The Places Between)

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For a brief period, Doves ruled the roost when it came to 21st century Brit-pop. Their music connected the dots between OK Computer-era Radiohead, Coldplay, and U2, a welcome combination for those unwilling to forgive U2's Pop or follow Radiohead down their Kid A rabbit hole. As a result, Lost Souls and The Last Broadcast both went platinum in the U.K., spawning no less than six Top 40 singles in the process. Those two albums dominate The Places Between, a greatest-hits compilation that focuses on the band’s glory days. To their credit, Doves have yet to release a dud of a record -- even the band’s lowest-selling album, Kingdom of Rust, went gold -- and they’ve collected their strongest material here, meaning the records that didn’t sell as well are still represented by strong, melodic tracks. “Andalucia,” the compilation’s only new track, holds its own against 14 established hits, a sign that Doves aren’t quite done with their reign of the U.K. charts

Primal Scream Screamadelica

Primal Scream Screamadelica

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There's no overestimating the importance of Screamadelica, the record that brought acid house, techno, and rave culture crashing into the British mainstream -- an impact that rivaled that of Nirvana's Nevermind, the other 1991 release that changed rock. Prior to Screamadelica, Primal Scream were Stonesy classic rock revivalists with a penchant for Detroit rock. They retained those fascinations on Screamadelica -- one listen to the Jimmy Miller-produced, Stephen Stills-rip "Movin' on Up" proves that -- but they burst everything wide open here, turning rock inside out by marrying it to a gleeful rainbow of modern dance textures. This is such a brilliant, gutsy innovative record, so unlike anything the Scream did before, that it's little wonder that there's been much debate behind who is actually responsible for its grooves, especially since Andrew Weatherall is credited with production with eight of the tracks, and it's clearly in line with his work. Even if Primal Scream took credit for Weatherall's endeavors, that doesn't erase the fact that they shepherded this album, providing the ideas and impetus for this dubtastic, elastic, psychedelic exercise in deep house and neo-psychedelic. Like any dance music, this is tied to its era to a certain extent, but it transcends it due to its fierce imagination and how it doubles back on rock history, making the past present and vice versa. It was such a monumental step forward that Primal Scream stumbled before regaining their footing, but by that point, the innovations of Screamadelica had been absorbed by everyone from the underground to mainstream. There's little chance that this record will be as revolutionary to first-time listeners, but after its initial spin, the genius in its construction will become apparent -- and it's that attention to detail that makes Screamadelica an album that transcends its time and influence.