Vitesse
Chelsea 27099 CD
Hidden Agenda.
by Keith McLachlan.
November 9, 2000.
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Originality? Well it's overrated anyhow. Of course
Vitesse sound exactly like Magnetic Fields (though
Fortunate Hazel dismisses this fact by virtue of their
lyrics having no similarity even though you are not
likely to make any of the lyrics out on this record
without benefit of a lyric sheet). It's as if the
Fields had been split into two beings after the
release of 'Holiday' and one continued forward and on
to worldwide acclaim and false idol status while the
other puttered away down a little hole and surfaced a
few years later on Parasol's label of all places and
had decided to go all crocodilian and not evolve but
still manage to succeed in their particular corner of
the musical ecosystem.
So yes, it is all majestic swooshes of synths and stabs at evocative lyrical literacy. The record is all things gentle and pleasant by most counts and I really have no great problem with a band obviously pillaging the back catalogs of other bands for their founts of inspiration because the Magnetic Fields no longer sound like this and I liked the Magnetic Fields back then probably more than now (Warning: snobbery ahead) before all the supposed "experts" who run "serious" music blogs jumped on the bandwagon and declared the Magnetic Fields back catalog poop. Who is Susan Anway anyhow?
The greatest surprise is that a band on a Parasol affiliated label is not, in fact, wretched. That use to be one of the few absolutes in life, each and every time Parasol would release a record I was absolutely certain about the existence of another record I would need not even sniff at. However, Stephin with an i even back in his 'Holiday' living possessed more than the lazy and if these guys are gonna make it to Magnetic Fields graduate school they are gonna have to move on to the laconic shuffle.
Walker Kong
There Goes The Sun CD
Magic Marker. MMR015.
by Keith Mclachlan.
February 23, 2002.
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In a less perfect world this would have been in some
way associated with Elephant 6. Having then borne
that mark of shame I would have dutifully ignored a
remarkable record. I would have missed the french
horn the most I think, or maybe I would have missed
how they seem to have made songs that sound like Love
but are not dreary and overrated, and how they seem to
have a bt of that early 80s Athens sound in there as
well (maybe even coming off a bit like Pylon!) and for
a few brief moments when the singer gets all
enthusiastic on 'Your Lovely Metropolis' make me
forget to cross off the dates on my calendar that I
keep to count the days when Carl Newman abandons the
dreadful New Pornographers and reforms Zumpano. It is
a remarkably diverse record for an indie-pop band, at
times being all Ladybug Transtor-like in their pop
restraint and well-studiedness and at others
reflecting a groove that makes my eyelids dance across
the rooftops that flicker with the refracted light of
the visual symponics of television screens tuned into
WB early on a balmy sunday evening. The record has
it's baroque moments with a soft undercurrent of cello
and violin on most of the numbers, then allowing for a
change of pace there are some numbers like 'Vivien
Girls' that exude the premium richness of casually
strummed indie-op and near the end even the Talking
Heads get a jostling from their grave on the spindly
art-school number 'New Fallout Fashion'. Nothing
dramatic or pressing here just an astonishing
collection of magnificent pop songs. Joy on lease
from Minny So Cold.
Simon Warner
Waiting Rooms CD
Rough Trade.
by Keith McLachlan.
December 28, 1997.
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For the past few months I have
been kinda down, lamenting the fact that I have not been able to really
sink my teeth into a vicious, biting review in a manner that might help to
prevent a stroke brought on by pent up vitriol. Well then all I can say,
with the gratitude of my personal well being, is thank God for Simon
Warner and his pathetic lust for being British. This record is truly
dreadful.
Why? Well for starters, the voice. It sounds like Julian Cope doing karaoke versions of Neil Diamond songs with the Tindersticks on Prozac as his backup band. Almost immediately with the first emanations from the mouth this album sails off into the depths of condescension, unlike any seen since Natalie Merchant campaigning for the post of Secretary of State on 10000 Maniac's 'Blind Man's Zoo' but here instead of telling everyone how to live, Mr. Warner basically champions the fact that he is British and thus he is far superior to anyone who might listen to this record, and that as a Brit he also sincerely believes he possesses a Herculean wit unmatched, certainly not among we plebians, by anyone.
Perhaps you need be a Brit and fond of people talking down to you in order to appreciate this record, but as a mindless, torpid yank I find Mr. Warner's stories to be so pedestrian and trite and uninvolving that I can not imagine why he felt anyone would be inspired of find anything of interest in his pedantic ramblings. Apparently Mr. Warner is a bit of a recluse, I suppose he is trying to play the role of tortured artist, but after listening to this record I wonder maybe if the seclusion is not the result of embarrassment, terrified to leave the house for fear that someone might recognize he as the source of this pile of dreck. The music is not bad, and surely it is the source for the multiple comparisons to Divine Comedy that I have seen, but where Neil Hannon's tunes soar and glide effortlessly, this stuff just tanks quite consistently.
Watoo Watoo
Curiosites? CD
Blackbean And Placenta.
by Keith McLachlan.
December 18, 2000.
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I am, at this moment, listening to the Sundays first
record for the first time in ages and with the passage
of time I had forgotten how startling hopeful this
music can glow. 'Reading, Writing and Arithmetic' has
a heart and is a living embodiment of something, of a
moment of soul even. Too often today records are just
collections of songs. Watoo Watoo's new record is a
nice collection of songs but I don't think I will ever
sit here in ten years time and fail to come up with
words that contain accurate protrayals of the elation
I feel now while listening to 'Kicked a Boy.'
WW is incidental pop music made likely because someone somewhere told them they loved them, perhaps it was a hurriedly cast letter. Unfortunately I don't. I am really starting to think I either buy too much mediocre music or there is too much mediocre music being made. The two are not absolutely related but as I age, perhaps the main culprit, I find less and less am I flabbergasted or overwhelmed by music. I thought this year was an amazing year for many nearly great records but outside of the new albums by Roy Montgomery and Beaumont I was rarely lifted to exhiliration.
Anyhow 'Curiostes?' continues Watoo Watoo's effort at charming their friends/fans with the ineffectual, lyrics are anonymous posters on a guidance counselor's office wall, the music is the equivalent of the Rice'a'Roni aisle in the supermarket and the ambiguity of the entire enterprise makes me feel only slightly less empty. I wish I was like the average Pitchfork reader/indie rawk maven and demanded my music be the most important thing in the world but that is something I don't normally require. Rather I simply want some selflessness and kind thoughts transformed into an effortless melody but today Watoo Watoo seem to have come up a bit short.
Still the record is nice, nice is nice, but it isn't everything. When will everything visit? I don't know.
Watoo Watoo
Picture Of A Lost Friend 3" CD
Radio Khartoum. khz 299.
by Keith McLachlan.
March 20, 1999.
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It is Oscar weekend and sure the Academy Awards are not nearly as
glamourous as the People's Choice Awards but in the weekend's spirit I
will grant Watoo Watoo the award for best foreign cd in the 3"
category of digitally recorded music. Hailing from France they made
this record in their home far from the maddening crush of Hollywood
super studios and bigwigs telling them that what they really needed
was a big car chase and scads of scantilly clad bimbos trapsing along
the beach to the sound of Third Eye Blind in the background. Nope this
is pure art film material, minimal pop architecture with titles like
'Dans Le Train' and 'L'ennui' oooo!!! spooky and exotic that! The
music is accompanied by a sad, mournful tulip named Pascale cooing the
poems out of her surely tattered and daisy printed English class
notebook. It is so lovely that it might make you wonder whether
Gerard Depardieu is their biggest fan and after such gleeful
speculation you could, if you started on the Häagen- Dazs now,
endeavour to become their second biggest fan in no time flat. There
are just two of them I think or are there actually five of them? It
is difficult to decipher from the notes but that is of little
consequence for it is unlikely that they will have a VH-1 Behind the
Music special in the future so you better catch them while you can
before they are discarded into the Seine with the rest of the fickle
Parisian's past pleasures.
Wolfie
Where's Wolfie CD
Parasol. PAR-CD-048.
by Keith McLachlan.
April 30, 1999.
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Appearing in next month's issue of Popular Mechanics-How to make your
own Wolfie record at home all for less than 20 dollars! Step one go
to any garage sale and pick yourself up one of those eagerly discarded
Tickle Me Elmo dolls that every yuppie no goodnik had to have three
years back cause their stupid bratty overly coddled kids demanded
them. Then, after having secured your Elmo, borrow the keys for your
dad's Oldsmobile and pull the car out into the driveway. Next-acquire
some duct tape and tape Elmo to the driveway and then find some sort
of recording device (the lower fi the better) and position it in a spot
in close enough proximity to your Elmo doll so that it will easily
record sounds emanating from him during the course of your home
project. Next up comes the most important step. Turn the key in the
ignition and proceed to run over Elmo, back and forth continuously,
for approximately 2 minutes while the recording device is running.
Repeat as many times as neccessary to complete an entire album. The
length of said album is entirely up to you. Then bring the tape in
and find yourself a guitar, some drums, and a groovy organ and write
some snappy pop tunes to coincide with the abominable noise you have
just captured on the front drive and after the final mixdown to a
fisher price cassette deck Voila!!! Your very own Wolfie record!