THE POP GROUP - Y (1979)

Review by: Victor Guimarães
Album assigned by: Jonathan Moss

Despite loving arty, experimental, psychedelic music, I never had a good relationship with post-punk. It’s complicated. It’s a genre that has everything I rationally like in music, and I’m still not a big-time fan. Do you remember that amazing girl (or guy) you met that time? That one, yeah, who was stunning, charming, brilliant, funny and even had the same habits and hobbies as you… but you two just couldn’t get along. Yeah, it’s a bit sad. It’s complicated. I know I just illustrated it with your kind of everyday lame comparison, but it illustrates well my relationship with the movement. With The Pop Group, one of the great early vanguardists within the genre, it wouldn’t be that different. 

After lots of ideas, experimentation and recording a single, on a nice day in 1979, there came Y, The Pop Group’s debut album. Listening to it is like having a good definition of post-punk: no clear definition, no rules. It’s got a rock approach made clear by some bass and drums lines and some guitar riffs, but there are too many elements of funk, electronic music and psychedelia, with spaces for folkier stuff, piano plays, changes in tempo and different ways of singing within the album or even in the same song. With that big primordial musical soup, it’s a bit hard for one to consider it a “true”, standard rock-n-roll album. But, hey! Who said this lack of rules is a downside? No one! It is exactly this adventurous way of making music what made post-punk pass the test of time with flying colors and The Pop Group one of the laureates of that class.

Well, to make it brief: regardless of my relationship with the genre, Y is a great album. It’s well done, it’s well thought, it’s creative, it’s not boring, it’s definitely not cliché. It may be a little repetitive sometimes. Or even too arty, too noisy and too difficult to digest for the untrained ear. But don’t let it intimidate you: it’s worth your time. Maybe that girl (or guy) was for you and not for me.

DAFT PUNK - Random Access Memories (2013)

Review by: Julien Mansencal
Album assigned by: Dinar Khayrutdinov

Despite being French, I had never listened to anything by Daft Punk up to this point. I tend to shy away from massively popular stuff, including but not limited to music, and they were no exception. Still, Random Access Memories was already lurking on the fringes of my list of things to discover, if only because it features Paul Williams on one track and I love this guy. (And it makes me realize just now that his own “Just an Old-Fashioned Love Song” would have fitted the nostalgia theme to a tee. Shame I didn’t think about that before.)

Anyway, it was a bit of a lie to say that I had never listened to Daft Punk before. Of course it was completely impossible to avoid “Get Lucky” in 2013, and deservedly so: it is a brilliant slice of disco and hearing it once is enough to remember it for years to come. I knew I should expect more of the same retro vibe throughout the record, and it was indeed there: lots of crisp funky bass and vibrant piano lines; an aural paradise. The songs themselves are rather more complex than I’d expected, many of them have several parts and sometimes they don't fit together extremely well. “Touch” suffers a bit from that, but Paul Williams’ vocal helps giving it a sense of unity. On the other hand, “Giorgio by Moroder” does not seem as well-constructed to me, and listening to Moroder’s life story may be interesting once, but it gets boring after a while. The only part I’m not too fond of is in fact the vocals: apart from the featurings, they are Vocoderized all the way and it just kills the mood for me.

However, that’s not the main downside of the album. Its main problem is that everything goes on for too long: my attention keeps drifting away within some songs and I have trouble listening to the whole thing in one continuous sitting. Most of the time, once “Get Lucky” is done I could just as well turn off the sound; especially since the following track opens with a bombasting violin intro that’s so ridiculously over-the-top that even Jeff Lynne would think twice before putting it on an ELO record. Actually, that’s too bad since the following following track, “Motherboard”, is a gorgeous instrumental featuring an instrument called “Crystal Baschet” that sounds marvellous. The entire record is peppered with ideas that are just as interesting, but it’s just not enough to keep my attention focused for 75 minutes.

Still, overall Random Access Memories deserves a thumbs up, I think. The whole “funk revival” thing works quite well, apart from the robotic vocals. I don’t think I’ll put it on too often, but I won’t say no to one song from time to time. If I want to get my mojo working, I’ll still rather put on Sexuality by Sébastien Tellier; I think he channels better the Sleazy Seventies than Daft Punk do.

OM - Advaitic Songs (2012)

Review by: Charly Saenz
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

I admit I had never listened to Om before. However I feel it's interesting that they touch upon genres like Psychedelic rock and ambient in connection with diverse Metal flavors - and there's some spirituality in the air, too. Do they mix successfully the sacred sound with the doomy intensity of Metal? We will see.

 This album starts off with a severe prayer tone, a devotional female vocal that blends in with some bass heavy instrumentation, some apt soundtrack to a sequel for The Mummy movie. There are some rock guitar here and there, but the musical spine of this song is very simple and repetitive.  

 For “State of non Return” the morose rhythm is a little more metallic since the start; metallic for the very nature of the drumming and then because of the Traditional Metal band taking control immediately. Fans, rest assured, there’s some power in here. Curious, but the vocals never take off, they follow the lazy monotony. This is the way you transmit a message of Doom, for sure. There is a solid intermezzo with violins in conjunction with a classic rock drum pattern that is totally enthralling.

 “Gethsemane” has a false start and then it begins anew with a droney keyboard pattern that persists in the background. The male vocal, once more doesn’t stand out, which is good. “Sinai” has some creative drumming but it ain’t of much interest.

The closing theme is quite subtle, not really an epic exit in bombastic terms. Some religious chorus, this time a male voice and more violins.

THE STRATFORD 4 - The Revolt Against Tired Noises (2002)

Review by: Eric Pember
Album assigned by: Dominic Linde

This album is very much old-school indie rock, in the good way.

While old-school indie rock is generally middle of the road sounding, it nevertheless is at the core of my musical DNA. In fact, it actually is part my DNA more than the kind of indie music that is usually popular these days, despite me being of the age where I should prefer the latter to the former, but that’s a discussion for another time.

Consequently, this was a very pleasing listen for me. I did detect a sort of hooklessness, although that could well remedy itself with additional listens. After all, I didn’t get Yo La Tengo for the first couple of listens either. Regardless, it’s always nice to discover more music of this type.

Apparently, one of the members in this band played with the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, which might explain the hooklessness, because I detected a hooklessness in Howl too. However, this sounds a good deal more sonically interesting than Howl did to me. I’m aware intellectually it’s not THAT much more sonically interesting, but again, this sort of indie rock guitar sound really speaks to me beyond the level of common sense.

I also really dug the last track, since I dig long jams in general, particularly long rock jams.

I’ll definitely revisit this album at some point in the future. For now, I think I’d rather get to some more of this band’s better contemporaries, since I haven’t listened to enough of them yet.

DJ SPRINKLES - Midtown 120 Blues (2014)

Review by: Roland Bruynesteyn
Album assigned by: Michael Strait

I’m completely at a loss with this music (if it can be called that). I spent some time looking for reviews and interpretations to help me make something of it and I found this one that is well written and positive in an understanding way: http://www.tokafi.com/news/cd-feature-dj-sprinkles-midtown-120-blues/

After listening, all I can do is be negative in a non-understanding way:

• this music can be successful in a trendy (or retro) restaurant, where you go for a hip dinner (music somewhat subdued in the background)
• it can also succeed in a nightclub for an afterparty (substantially louder, making conversation difficult but still making chilling out possible)
• this music can be appreciated by other generations and indeed, other people, as a kind of background music for studying or reading or entertaining guests in your house
• some people may listen to it concentratedly as there are some semi profound lyrics (voice overs, really), and sometimes certain themes sort of develop, not unlike some minimal piano music (think Reich or Ten Holt).

To me it fails. Funny thing is, there is no nasty or aggressive sound or amateurish sequence to be found on the entire record, and it’s definitely trance inducing. But in the end it’s all much too repetitive for my taste, this music could go on for ever and really tries to. I like me some drony stuff at times (whether it’s classical minimal music or some Krautrock), but apparently not so much if it’s this synthetic deep house stuff. The proposition of drony, trance inducing music in reality appears to be a lack of ideas; repeating themes and grooves ad infinitum is presented as an artistic choice, but it really is evidence of a total lack of creative inspiration.

It’s a bit like Steely dan-lite (or Gorillaz-lite): no biting lyrics, rather simple and repetitive rhythm charts, no real musical instruments to speak of and no solo’s. A song like Sisters, I Don’t Know What This World Is Coming To with the title being repeated for 11 minutes overstays its welcome by 8 minutes. To me the instrumental tracks are muzak, to be played in the background of time sharing and real estate commercials, travel programs or ‘win compilations’ of people water skiing, parasailing, reaching tops of mountains at sunsets and the like. But then a track like Grand Central, Pt. II (72 Hrs. By Rail From Missouri) wouldn’t be out of place on The Division Bell either, and is actually my favorite track, probably because it does not have the annoying rhythm machines.

Ultimately it’s an acquired taste I have no interest in acquiring, but then I have no intention of trying. To come back to the positive review found elsewhere: if this type of music (deep house, apparently) is anything for you, this artist might be one to check out. 

RAY BARRETTO - Acid (1968)

Review by: Ali Ghoneim
Album assigned by: Alejandro Muñoz G

When a Latin jazz musician releases an album called Acid — in 1968 no less — you would be forgiven for assuming it combines latin music with psychedelic rock. You would be forgiven, but you’d still be wrong. Not a hint, lick or indeed dab of psychedelia is on the entire thing (the eight minute long improvisation of Espiritu Libre comes close, but when the improv is this dry, it’s just called jazz). The only psychedelic thing about the album isn’t even on the album, it’s on the cover. What a waste of psychedelic font.

Not that Acid is a straightforward latin jazz record. It does draw influence from 60s soul/rock and tries to give them a latin spin, but the end result doesn’t really transform these genres in any significant way. A Deeper Shade of Soul sounds like a medley of covers rather than anything truly transcending typical soul. In fact, its melodies seem to be snatched from Twist and Shout and Summer Nights. The Soul Drummers is a bit of a slog except for that section near the end when the horns kick into high gear. And while Mercy, Mercy, Baby is a pretty good song, everything cool about it has nothing to do with the fact that Ray is belting your stock 60s soul/rock lyrics over latin percussion. Finally, Teacher of Love is Ray’s unconvincing attempt at hippy rock lyrics, not that actual hippy rock lyrics are all that convincing in the first place. Here’s a sampling:

I come to my class tonight

Don’t be late or you’ll be left behind

Cause I’m the loving loving man

I’m the teacher of love

(teacher won’t you teach me tonight!)

Stupendous. (That means it’s stupid, right?)

Where the album really shines is on its more straightforward latin tracks. All of the songs were written by Ray Barretto, a percussionist, but the real stars on display here are in the horn section. Just listen to the explosive horn riff that opens the first and best track, El Nuevo Barretto. It is the definition of a pick-me-up. Once that groove kicks, it’s hard to not let yourself be transported to a more pleasant state of mind. Think this is the kind of music George Clinton meant when he coined the term “mood control”. 

Strait to the Point: JAPAN - Gentlemen Take Polaroids (1980)

Review by: Michael Strait

Rated: 4.5/5

Aww yeah, this is the shiet! New romantic located firmly in the uncanny valley. Proper good stuff.

Rob Dean left after the release of this album, and it's easy to see why. He's got about as much presence on this record as Jason Newsted got on ...And Justice For All, except that there's more reason to complain here because Dean is, you know, actually good. I always found his solos a tad hit or miss, but he could turn in some really good ones when called for, and his riffs were pretty uniformly awesome. So, I should be bitter - but I'm not, 'cos truth is by now Japan just didn't need the guy anymore. Guitars are nice, but by this point in their career they were getting more artistic mileage out of their synths, and Dean, good as he is, just wasn't all that compatible with the thoroughly non-rock styles explored on this album. So he is, effectively, out, and replacing him is the great Ryuichi Sakamoto of the Yellow Magic Orchestra on additional synths. Say - the band were fuggin' called Japan, how did it take 'em this long to get an actual Japanese person in the band?

His presence is definitely felt, anyway. You can hear bits that are redolent of YMO in a few places, like the burbling generator-synths in the background on the title track and "Methods of Dance", or the big, atmospheric synth riffs on "Burning Bridges" and "Taking Islands in Africa". I'm not too big on the latter two, actually - the former is just kind of a mediocre new age song with a fairly bad smooth jazz sax solo (apparently courtesy of Mick Karn - stick to the bass, friendo!) and the latter is about the only thing on the album that really does sound unpleasantly dated. Some of those synth sounds really wouldn't fly today, even if the riffs they're playing are totally super catchy. Those (aside from an irritating reappearance by the bad sax on "Methods of Dance") are the only weak moments on the album, though - the rest of it's all fucking awesome, and I love it. I love it all so much, in fact, that I'm not sure I can even pick a favourite track outright; instead, I'll just run through my shortlist.

Fer a start, we have the title track, which is a) the first good Japan album opener since their debut and b) one of the best songs they ever made. It's got this crazy-ass, woozy bassline from Karn that sets the whole thing at an edge, and a drawn-out, almost druggy hook that sounds like it was sung with an unsettling rictus grin. That's Sylvian on the whole record, actually - he is a fascinating beast on this album. He's a gentleman, sure, but he's a gentleman who sounds like he might bare fangs and sink into your throat if you waltz with him for too long under the moonlight. His croon is so affected and over-the-top that it ends up sounding like a face-mask that doesn't quite fit right, or a smile that doesn't quite reach the eyes in the right way; it's off, and it's one of the things that makes the album feel so uncanny. Anyway, the title track is also the only song on the album where Dean actually is noticeably present, albeit barely - he gets a bare, soft chiming riff to play with for the first half, and a few rhythm pinpricks in an instrumental break he'd normally be allowed to fill with a guitar solo. Instead, the band let the synths breathe while Sylvian quietly indulges in some wordless vocal noodling - very pleasant stuff, for sure.

Then there's "Nightporter", which has a fair economy of moving parts and is all the more lovely for it. Karn's not present on this one - it's just a lovely classical piano waltz from Richard Barbieri (damn - I think this might be the first time I've mentioned their keyboardist by name this whole series! How'd I get away with that?) over which Sylvian tenderly and softly croons a love song into the ear of a soon-to-be victim, with some light accompaniment from a couple of strings (or, perhaps, string-imitating synths) and a really well-structured, cathartic hook. It's utterly gorgeous, divine stuff, and the seven minutes blow by almost too quickly - I could listen to this forever. Say - didn't progressive rock spend its entire lifespan trying to figure out ways to put classical influences in the pop/rock format? And did Japan just blow 'em all out the water in seven minutes - without even a single showy time signature change? Bloody 'ell, I think they did! I've nothing against prog rock, of course, but it can move aside - synthpop was better.

Anyway, there's also "Ain't That Peculiar", which turns out to be a Marvin Gaye cover. Sylvian sounds positively delighted on this track (uh oh - better start looking for drained bodies!) and the way he draws out the word "PecUUU-lyaaar" is wonderful, as is Karn's unsteadily climbing bassline. Karn's best work, though, is probably on "Swing", where his bassline stumbles and lurches about in an asymmetrical fashion like some blind beast from another plane of existence as Sylvian and Barbieri (and, perhaps, Sakamoto) patiently set about building up to one of the most satisfyingly-structured hooks I think I've ever heard. It doesn't soar or hit catharsis, exactly, but it also doesn't lose any energy - it sort of goes sideways, peppering these (possibly synthesised) saxophone bursts around Sylvian before sliding out into a full-on jazz sax orgasm for a tantalising few seconds, and then landing seamlessly back in the verse like it was nothing! It's about the only time the sax actually, properly works on the album, and does it ever work. This song is gorgeous, velvety twilight joy for six and a half minutes; listening to it is like draping myself in an exquisitely-stitched warm blanket in the English winter. I love it deeply.

There's also "My New Career", in which Karn's bass climbs up the walls like a spider or Thom Yorke while synths suck away all the light and Sylvian sadistically, sensuously sings sweet nothings into the dark. "I could never hurt anyone/ Least of all you", he assures us as he beckons us towards him, and I don't believe a word of it - but I follow like a lamb. It's a spiderweb, and Sylvian is the widow sitting patiently in the middle; it's a dark, alluring, opalescent stone cathedral containing a grinning devil. Man, this album is amazing - couple of not-so-hot tracks, sure, but when the rest is this good what does it matter? Listen to it, I urge ya - just stay in the lit areas! 'Cos if you give those pale white jaws the chance to close 'round your hot flesh, they ain't never opening again. New romantic had barely begun, and already Japan were madly deconstructing and reconstructing it into gothic and otherworldly shapes; their appetite for the new and unusual was insatiable, it seems, and that is the truest indicator of artistic excellence I think you're ever likely to find. Japan were restless and relentless innovators, true carriers of the avant-garde flame within the realm of pop music, and if I had my way they'd all be canonised national treasures by now. 

Well, maybe all except Rob. Poor guy!