20 Christmas Songs, Ranked Worst To Best

20 Christmas Songs, Ranked Worst To Best

So, now is the time of year when everyone starts writing their lists of best albums of the year, and inexplicably puts ‘Modern Vampires of the City’ at #1 when it should just be a safe sort of medium to high and when Steven Wilson is far more deserving of the top spot. But I just got a bunch of new CDs for Christmas and I’m more interested in listening to them than going over everything that’s been released in 2013, and besides, over the past two weeks or so, a lot of what I’ve been listening to has had titles like ‘The Greatest Christmas Album In The World Ever’, and since they’re songs that everybody knows and everybody hears without fail in December, I thought I’d say a few things about them.

#20: Santa Baby: The version of this everybody knows is Kylie’s from 2000, although it was originally released in 1953, and it’s pretty much my pet hate when it comes to Christmas songs. The breathy, girly vocals are incredibly annoying and the lyrics are frankly creepy – the idea of flirting with Father Christmas is too weird for me to even think about. The melody is strange and awkward and never really goes anywhere, and all in all, I can’t understand why this ever became a hit.

#19: All I Want For Christmas Is You: Mariah Carey’s 2003 single became massive and many regard it as a definitive Christmas song… when in actual fact, it’s not even about Christmas – it’s just using Christmas as an excuse for her to talk about a guy she’s in love with. I could probably cope with this if it was otherwise a good song, but I find it uninspired, following the same ‘sparse, tender opening followed by danceable, upbeat second verse’ that pop songs have been following since their invention.

#18: Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree: Again, the original version of this isn’t the one everyone knows; the popular version is by Mel Smith and Kim Wilde from 1987, and again, it’s one of those songs that is everywhere and I can’t understand why. It’s just incredibly grating in how it’s constantly upbeat and very repetitive, and it doesn’t exactly seem to be about anything – it just exists. Mostly, the people I know who like it want to seem like they’re into retro music when they’re actually not.

#17: Proper Crimbo: I discovered this 2003 song for the first time this year and instantly hated it. It’s performed by a range of celebrities who were popular at the time but unremembered now, and is clearly meant to be a novelty song. I often tire of novelty songs after the tenth listen; this one I tired of before the first was out. Some people like it because it’s down to earth and captures what Christmas really is like rather than the ideal – I dislike it for the exact same reason; I love the magic of Christmas.

#16: Wonderful Christmastime: Paul McCartney’s contribution to Christmas music came in 1979, which incidentally was the same year that ‘Another Brick in the Wall’ became Christmas Number One (I didn’t feel like I could include that, though.) This is a good song that I’d actually choose to listen to, but its problem is that it’s too safe. Sure, it’s warm and feel-good, and it works excellently as background music in a Christmas party, but it doesn’t do anything particularly exciting.

#15: Merry Christmas Everyone: Released by Shakin’ Stevens in 1985, my complaint about this one is basically exactly the same as the last one. I decided this one slightly edged McCartney out because I’ve always thought he sounded a bit self conscious and unwilling to let go, and Shakin’ Stevens doesn’t have this problem, putting everything he has into the song over a fun swingy rhythm that won’t change your world but will get you tapping your feet.

#14: His Favourite Christmas Story: One that less people will be familiar with, this was released in 2008 by obscure American power pop band Capital Lights. As the title suggests, it tells a story, and the story is excellent – incredibly sad and beautiful and can still make me cry a little if it catches me in the right mood, so I have to listen to this a few times every year. There’s nothing special about the music, though, and if you’re not concentrating on the story it’ll slip right by you.

#13: Baby It’s Cold Outside: Another song that’s older than anybody realises, this 1949 classic has been covered by more people than I care to count, and if I’m honest, the version I downloaded is actually by the Glee Cast. I’m not embarrassed by that, though: Darren Criss and Chris Colfer both have excellent voices which work with each other really well in this playful duet which is more seasonal than Christmassy but is incredibly catchy and always enjoyable to hear or sing along to.

#12: Ring Out, Solstice Bells: Again not technically a Christmas song but certainly a holiday song, this is one of many such songs by Jethro Tull but the only one ever to achieve any fame, and for good reason. The vocals in the verses are a rough, acquired taste and contrast nicely with the gradually building, bombastic chorus creating something that really shouldn’t be uplifting but actually is. It’s very different and creates a great diversion when a Christmas playlist starts to get a bit monotonous.

#11: 2000 Miles: This 1983 single by the Pretenders is a stripped-down acoustic vocal showcase for Chrissie Hynde; and she’s honestly a joy to listen to here, full of emotion and passion – not surprising considering it’s dedicated to ex-band member James Honeymann-Scott following his death. It’s a sad and longing ballad that builds to a stunning climax and it’s perfect if you can’t deal with the constant cheeriness of some of the hugely famous Christmas songs.

#10: Stop The Cavalry: This one makes it into the top ten because its holiday connotations aside, it still manages to be a great New Wave song, which can’t be said for most songs on this list. Jona Lewie (who I know nothing about besides this song) creates a rhythmic and unique song with vague influences from worldbeat and traditional English music, and an anti-war protest message. It’s also very musically clever, including themes used by famous classical composers woven between the modern parts.

#9: Christmas Lights: The most recent song on the list, Coldplay didn’t release their Christmas tune until 2010, but it’s excellent. It’s stopped from being any higher on the list by the fact that it’s pretty similar to every other excellent Coldplay song ever, but nevertheless it’s one of my most played. It manages to be simultaneously happy and sad, acknowledging the magic of Christmas and its power over people despite the singer’s situation, and unsurprisingly the melody is gorgeous and the lyrics honest.

#8: Merry  Xmas Everybody: So there are songs that are great because they’re fun and Christmassy, and there are songs that are great for other reasons, and then there’s Slade’s 1973 single. It’s the most consistently big-selling Christmas song in the UK, possibly because it’s timelessly relatable. The lyrics are clever, funny without trying too hard, and the guitars perfectly suit it: it’s lighthearted but still manages a serious message. Also, I read a statistic that up to 42% of the world might have heard the song. Awesome.

#7: I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday: Roy Wood’s eccentric glam rock outfit Wizzard aren’t the obvious choice for a massive commercial song but they’re definitely weird enough to pull out all the stops for this camped-up hit. Brimming with energy and impossibly full of hooks, it perfectly captures the childhood view of Christmas, which is appropriate since a choir of children actually sing on part of it. For four minutes it takes you back to a simpler time and it’s just impossible to get tired of.

#6: Happy Christmas (War Is Over): This 1971 single was released by John Lennon and Yoko Ono, and is another one which combines the idea of an anti-war song with a Christmas song, and does it just slightly better. It cleverly utilises the conventions of a Christmas song including a children’s choir and the use of instruments such as chimes and sleigh bells, juxtaposing them against the idea that although it’s Christmas there are still a lot of problems in the world. Plus, I love the range of textures and contrast between solo and group vocals.

#5: Peace On Earth/Little Drummer Boy: The third of four duets on this list (ooh, tension) this is one I’ve always liked but only started to love this year. Rulebreaking, genre-bending David Bowie and Christmas song veteran Bing Crosby don’t sound like the most likely partnership but the two together create something that’s unlike any other song, including the best of both of their musical styles. The contrast between the classic ‘Little Drummer Boy’ and the newly written song ‘Peace On Earth’ is effective and often beautiful. The video’s great too.

#4: Do They Know It’s Christmas?: Bob Geldof’s Band Aid single has been released three times, in 1984, 1989 and 2004, and the original’s definitely the best. A lot of people can’t stand the song; it’s very divisive, but clearly I’m in favour. Firstly, I think it was a good idea with honestly good intentions, and the singers do all sound genuine, and secondly I think it’s a very well-written song, giving parts to lots of musicians but still sounding cohesive overall as it gradually builds, with a couple of fake-out climaxes that lead into a united and hopeful ending.

#3: I Believe In Father Christmas: I don’t only like this one because I love Greg Lake’s voice (though I do) or so I can laugh at the irony of huge chain stores playing a song that was written to protest against the commercialisation of Christmas (though I do.) I like it because of the subtle, shimmering riff, because the song has what are possibly Lake’s greatest set of lyrics ever, because of the stripped-down acoustic arrangement that really lets the conviction in his voice show through, and because I genuinely do believe in Father Christmas.

#2: A Spaceman Came Travelling: My second favourite Christmas song is all about the atmosphere. Chris de Burgh’s 1975 song is quietly full of wonder and beauty for something just out of reach, and this ethereal song captures it perfectly, from the quietly whispered verses to the explosive release of the choruses, it’s pretty much a masterpiece of emotional buildup in a song. It’s also an interesting new take on the traditional Christmas story and my enjoyment is in no way influenced by my fascination with space.

#1: A Fairytale Of New York: There are a lot of great Christmas songs, including many that I didn’t even mention, but it’s really not hard for me to pick my all time favourite. The Pogues and Kirtsy MacColl’s collaboration has so far eclipsed all other Christmas songs that I can’t imagine how Christmas ever existed without it. Told over three Christmases, this duet is the story of a relationship, from the exciting honeymoon period at the beginning to the constant fighting phase near the end to the crushing realisation that both parties have given up their dreams for the other person, and it hasn’t even worked out. It’s outstanding in every way, from the lyrics to the melodies that perfectly convey the relevant emotions to the performances, with Shane McGowan’s vocals a particular standout, as well as the evocative fadeout instrumental section at the end. The song is timeless, in that it’s just Christmassy enough to be perfect for the time of year but can still be enjoyed year round, and it appeals to a wide range of musical tastes too. In short, I can’t imagine finding a Christmas song better than this, and I’m not sure I’d want to.

Yes: 90125

90125

Best song: Changes

Worst song: Leave It

Overall grade: 2

Remember how Yes managed to make Drama a success, despite lacking Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman, by stunningly and effortlessly creating the kind of prog pop that Styx and Kansas could only dream about? Well, three years later they actually have Anderson back, and yet they come nowhere near close to repeating the feat.

Truth is, this was actually the first Yes album I heard, and it nearly put me off listening to the band for life. I’d been advised on the albums by a non-prog fan and so was led to believe that it was some of their best work, yet at the same time I’d heard that they were similar to bands like Pink Floyd and Genesis who I already liked… I listened, and I had no idea how this was similar in any way to those other bands, and I couldn’t get any enjoyment out of it. I shelved the band, and it was a good few months before I was guided towards ‘Close To The Edge’. Later, after being acquainted with the whole of the band’s Seventies catalogue, I returned to this with fresh eyes. I knew I was getting an Eighties pop album rather than a prog album and with that in mind, I thought I might be able to appreciate it. But I couldn’t hear anything that differentiated it from anything else being made at the time. In my opinion, Yes lost their magical songwriting talent somewhere around 1981 and have been trying to get it back ever since, resulting in some near misses like ‘Keys To Ascension’ and ‘Fly From Here’, and some complete flops, like ‘Big Generator’ and this one.

One possible reason for the drop in quality on this album is the departure of Steve Howe; who after over ten years as a permanent fixture of the band was suddenly not invited to join it. That’s right, this was actually an entirely new band, that started off as Chris Squire, Alan White and then-unknown guitarist Trevor Rabin, and just happened to end up including Jon Anderson and pre-Wakeman Yes keyboardist Tony Kaye. As much as I respect Squire as a bassist, I’ve never seen him as the strongest songwriter, and White’s never contributed significantly either, which basically left Anderson alone to carry the group and make them sound vaguely Yes-like, which, after they decided to adopt the name, should have been pretty important.

If I said ‘Owner Of A Lonely Heart’ was my least favourite song here, I’d be being controversial for the sake of it, because there are worse songs. I still can’t stand it, though. I can’t get over the simplicity of it all and the way there aren’t any new layers to uncover with subsequent listens; what you hear is what you get. The band try to add in solos, possibly to appease longtime fans, but they’re uninspired, possibly restricted by the commercial nature of the song.

Its followup ‘Hold On’ is equally uninspired, and it feels like the band don’t realise that it’s possible to be creative and concise, and they have to pick one or the other, because seriously, on paper this song ticks all the boxes of what elements a song should have but it doesn’t do anything more than that and it doesn’t make you feel anything. ‘It Can Happen’ is a slight improvement, made memorable with the addition of the sitar and the less cheesy melody, but still doesn’t exactly break new ground.

‘Changes’ is… well, it’s certainly listenable, even while it never approaches greatness. It brushes aside the shiny, over-polished pop in favour of a rockier sound, and Anderson manages to breathe plenty of emotion into this one: he hasn’t lost any talent, he just doesn’t have as much material to work with here.

Moving into the second side, ‘Cinema’ seems to be an attempt at a prog instrumental, but two minutes doesn’t really give it a chance to develop, and none of the band members are playing their best at this point (Squire hasn’t given us a great bass line this entire album while the others were overloaded with them.) Then ‘Leave It’ was designed as Anderson’s showcase, full of vocal harmonies, but they’re harsh and abrasive to my ears; and I know he’s capable of such beauty. There’s nothing in the background to raise it up, either, and so it becomes my least favourite song on the album because I actually can’t see any merit in it whatsoever: not as a Yes song nor as a pop song.

‘Our Song’ is just so… so eighties, with its keyboards and synths, that seem like something out of a terrible washing powder advert and just manage to overpower the entire song. Then comes ‘City of Love’, and have I mentioned that the lyrics are also terrible here? I’m not saying Yes have ever been well known for great lyrics, but at least they used to be original. Here, they dispense with all originality and go for cringe-inducing: I think the title of this song just about says enough.

‘Hearts’, as a closer, is one of those songs where you spend the whole time waiting for the good bit, as the last thirty seconds are actually pretty cool where the first seven have no focus and nothing special about them. It’s not really enough of a payoff to wait for, in truth. It’s an extended ballad in the grand tradition of ‘And You And I’, but has about as much resemblance to that song as ‘Close To The Edge’ does to ‘Surfin’ Bird’.

Of course, this album is no worse than everything else that was becoming mainstream in 1983; that’s just not my style of music at all, but to an Eighties pop fan this is probably perfectly worthwhile. It’s just not superior to anything else from the time, as it no longer has the unique power of classic Yes albums from the seventies. Perhaps I’m always going to judge it harshly in the shadow of its great predecessors, but I can’t imagine ever listening to this for pleasure.

The Clash: Give 'Em Enough Rope

Give ‘Em Enough Rope

Best song: Julie’s Been Working For The Drug Squad

Worst song: Stay Free

Overall grade: 4

[author’s note: it’s experiment time! My original reviews were 500-600 words but for a while now they’ve been ~1000, and so I thought I’d have a go at writing something more concise again and see how it works. May or may not become a regular thing, and if anyone has a preference for one writing style over the other, I’ll definitely take that on board.]

After such an acclaimed first effort, the Clash were always going to have some trouble here. With their second album, they strike an awkward-teenager sort of balance between the uncontrollable punk energy of the debut and the genre-boundary-ignoring lasting statement that is London Calling. It works, sometimes, and at other times it can get a little dull. The longer song form that’s found on a lot of songs here can sometimes allow for more development of musical ideas and a chance to showcase other instruments, but at other times is unnecessary and repetitive.

As on their first album, I’d say their most successful songs are the more politically-inclined ones, where Strummer really cares about what he’s singing about, and that’s why my favourites are ‘Julie’s Been Working For The Drug Squad’, the lyrically excellent ‘Safe European Home’, and ‘Tommy Gun’ with its outstanding introduction. Another thing I like about ‘Julie’s’ is the piano part, courtesy of guest musician Allen Lanier, that weaves its way through.

In contrast, I’m not a big fan of ‘Stay Free’, a slower and much more pop-oriented song that feels like it could have been written by pretty much any band. ‘Drug Stabbing Time’ is another song which I’m mostly not a big fan of, except for the awesome saxophone solo which punctuates it.

A song I find particularly interesting is ‘English Civil War’, which is a punk rearrangement of a traditional Irish tune. Joe Strummer had learnt the anti-war song as a schoolboy and came up with the idea of modernising it, which works really well and adds some variety to the album.

It’s definitely possible to notice an improvement in technical skill between the last album and this one, and that has a lot to do with new drummer Topper Headon, who was jazz trained and brings a solid and interesting backing to pretty much every song. In addition, Paul Simonon takes on a more prominent role than he had on the debut, playing some good bass lines on songs like the otherwise-unspectacular ‘Last Gang In Town’.

The other song in the mediocre middle section is ‘Guns on the Roof’, a disappointing use of the riff from the Who’s ‘I Can’t Explain’ that serves to remind you that the original was so much better. But The Clash manage a great comeback at the end of the album. The rocky ‘Cheapskates’ is excellently, passionately sung by Strummer, and anthemic ‘All The Young Punks’ makes a great closer to the album, slower than usual but still interesting, and something of a rallying call to a generation.

Overall, this second album features a fair mix of great writing and uninspired writing, and while the balance shifts enough in the direction of good songs to make it well worth owning, there’s nothing here which I’d describe as criminal to miss out on. It’s never offensively bad but it can walk the fine line between a band having fun and a band existing on automatic.

Pink Floyd: A Momentary Lapse of Reason

A Momentary Lapse of Reason

Best song: Sorrow

Worst song: The Dogs of War

Overall grade: 4

[author’s note: finally reached 100 reviews! Much later than I hoped, but I made it.]

I’ve been looking forward to this one for a while. More often than not, I find that people tend to dismiss this album, and I completely understand why. After Roger Waters had left the band, having almost singlehandedly written the past three albums, people must have been justifiably sceptical about David Gilmour’s ability to keep the band going at such a high level. Add to that the ‘80s curse’ that had set in, bestowing mediocrity and commercialism on once-great bands, and by all rights this album has all the makings of something absolutely terrible. But truth is, I find quite a few of the songs here to be excellent.

David Gilmour did not try to be Roger Waters here. When he decided to make a Pink Floyd album instead of a solo album, he writes Gilmour songs with a few Pink Floyd trademarks thrown in. He didn’t go for concept albums and long epics and darkly abstract lyrics, because he knew his strengths didn’t lie in those areas. Instead, he brought in writing partners where it was necessary and wrote relatable classic pop melodies with interesting twists and occasionally the barest hint of experimentalism.

Some people take issue with this album because it’s almost a Gilmour solo album, which is true. Some people take issue because Gilmour wasn’t an original band member, as he replaced Syd Barrett – also true. But as for the idea that it was too different to their previous work? Well, just look at the difference between ‘The Piper at the Gates of Dawn’ and ‘Animals’. Their two best albums in my opinion, but they couldn’t be more different. Change isn’t always bad, it seems.

The very beginning of the album isn’t so great – ‘Signs Of Life’ is actually very enjoyable when you don’t know Pink Floyd very well, but leaves a bitter taste when you realise quite how much of it is recycled from Floyd songs of past. Similarly, ‘The Dogs of War’ re-uses sound effects, including the barking from ‘Dogs’ and the alarm clocks from ‘Time’. Here, Gilmour tries too hard to be aggressive and dissonant. He doesn’t manage to shock or unnerve his fans, just make them grimace as they reach for the ‘Skip’ button.

The best known song from the album is probably ‘Learning to Fly’, which shows Gilmour and company on top melodic form, coming up with all kinds of irritatingly rhythmic hooks and using Gilmour’s recent foray into owning aeroplanes as a metaphor for moving on from the Waters-led band. Some might say that the new band shouldn’t have focused their new songs on this, but I would say that writing about what’s relevant to them will always make a better song. Plus, the songs would have been accused of being about Waters no matter what. Anyway, it’s an arena rock song with a Pink Floyd twist, and the combination shines.

‘One Slip’ follows a similar formula yet manages to be different at the same time. The opening sounds like the beginning to a vintage video game. Phil Manzanera co-writes, bringing a freshness and a hint of 80s Roxy Music to the songwriting, and while lyrics were never one of Gilmour’s strong points, they’re actually pretty good and very honest here, talking about a failed marriage. Lots of percussion and some spacey instrumental sections stop the song from feeling too generic.

Then comes the beautiful and dreamy ballad ‘On The Turning Away’, which in some ways foreshadows Gilmour’s ‘On An Island’ work. His voice is so light that a sudden wind might sweep it away, and it’s a song that shows so much quiet emotion before letting it all flood out in the guitar solo that dominates the second half.

Following these triumphs, ‘Yet Another Movie’ is an unassuming disappointment. It seems like it’s trying to be interesting, maybe even like it should be interesting, but it doesn’t capture my attention anywhere near long enough for its length, the different parts seem to clash with each other somehow, and the solo here is either squealy or boring. Far more exciting is the impossibly short instrumental that it leads right into, ‘Round And Around’, which is minimal, atmospheric and surprisingly intense, and could have led onto something really awesome.

Another instrumental success is ‘Terminal Frost’. Anything that comes between the two dated, barely musical parts of ‘A New Machine’ is sure to be a success in comparison, but ‘Frost’ particularly so. Here, Pink Floyd experiment with jazzy undertones and the wide range of guest musicians on the song make the musicianship of a much higher quality than on the band’s earlier output. Its structure is excellent, often hinting at becoming something huge and fading back down again before really exploding towards the end.

And the true masterpiece is left for last. I was lucky enough to see the Australian Pink Floyd Show play ‘Sorrow’ live on their most recent tour, and whether live or in the studio, it absolutely stands up to the band’s 70s output. It’s dark, heavy and melodic all at the same time and always manages to make a big impression on me. Some great guitar and bass work (Tony Levin contributes) and incredible, intense momentum make this into a thrilling epic that by itself almost elevates the album to a 5-level. I’ve heard people call it filler, but I can’t see how anyone could not enjoy its wonderful progression and diversity, along with the excellent, involved performances from everyone, creating a memorable finish.

Albums like Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall are justifiably massive because they have the ability to blow peoples’ minds and even change their lives. A Momentary Lapse of Reason is never going to do that. But it paved the way for the band’s last great album, seven years later, as well as containing a fair few songs that, even though they may not fulfil Waters’ criteria, definitely fit mine.

[REQUEST] Carter: 1992 The Love Album

1992 The Love Album

Best song: England

Worst song: 1993

Overall grade: 4

Well, this is something I never thought I’d review. For a long time, everything I’d heard about Carter, including the fact that they called themselves ‘The Unstoppable Sex Machine’ led me to believe that they were immature, full of themselves and not particularly serious. I still partly think that, but at the same time I think they do have a fair amount of talent, often writing inspired lyrics that use humour to give important messages, and occasionally writing decent melodies.

For anyone who’s not aware, Carter USM were a pair of indie musicians known only as Jim Bob and Fruitbat who put out a handful of albums throughout the 90s, and still occasionally tour today. This album was their most successful, containing a Top 10 single and making it to number 1 in the UK charts, but today they’re largely unheard of, and there’s a fair chance I wouldn’t have heard of them if I didn’t know people who were massive fans.

This album opens with an instrumental; an interesting and surprising decision considering Carter’s strengths really do lie in their lyrics. ‘1993’ is unnecessarily bombastic and seems very contrived and artificial, and as an opener it fails to excite me about the album to come. However, in the eight songs that follow, Jim Bob and Fruitbat tackle an interesting range of subject matter that’s either not often covered in songs, or just looked at in a different way

I’m not entirely sure who started the idea of putting the big hit single as track three on an album, or when. I can’t think of many pre-90s examples. Anyway, it applies here with ‘The Only Living Boy in New Cross’, a play on the similarly-titled Paul Simon song. It builds and expands as all good anthems should, moving from the tale of one particular one night stand to reciting an extensive list of people who have died from AIDS.  It’s memorable, effective and hard-hitting right down to the angry finality of ‘Hello, good evening, welcome – and goodbye.’

It’s easily the album’s second best song, beaten out only by the lyrical excellence that is ‘England’. A traditional English folk melody is juxtaposed with a tale that paints a far more bleak view of our country, containing constant references to things which, depressingly enough, seem to represent the English, and an uncountable number of excellent puns, from ‘I was born under a wandering star in the second council house of Virgo’ to ‘My phone number is triple-X directory’. Without paying attention to the lyrics it sounds unobtrusive and a minor side note to the album, especially given its length, but to pass over it would be a huge mistake.

Between these two greats is ‘Suppose You Gave A Funeral and Nobody Came’, a comment on the superficiality of popularity (I can’t say that fast either) that’s set to dance music; which could be a ridiculous combination but actually works, the contrast of subject matter and musical style exactly mirroring the contrast of the popular girl with no real friends. The melody at the end is probably the catchiest moment of the album, too. It doesn’t let itself be overshadowed by the two songs around it, but holds its own nicely, although as the first of two funeral songs, it makes me wonder if this album should be renamed ‘1992 The Death Album’.

The second one, ‘Look Mum, No Hands!’ is the downbeat tale of a funeral of a young boy, but it’s a bit heavyhanded and tries too hard to make its point, and consequently isn’t as successful as those that seem to convey their message effortlessly. It’s not a complete failure – there are a couple of very darkly humourous lines – but it’s not a classic. Similarly, the second half of ‘Is Wrestling Fixed’ tries too hard to be funny, with an endless list of not particularly imaginative questions to which the answer is blatantly ‘yes’, and then the final line, ‘Is wrestling fixed?’ It doesn’t take a genius to work out the intended meaning of that. The first half is excellent, though, far cleverer and makes the song well worth the listen.

Side two doesn’t have any classics, although it does begin with a Spinal Tap quote. ‘Do Re Me So Far So Good’ is the obligatory anti-music-industry song that’s been done a thousand times. It’s enjoyable and well-written enough but placed after three outstanding tracks, will always seem like the slightly less original younger cousin.

An issue I have with a lot of these songs, especially ‘While You Were Out’, lies in the vocals; which are incredibly intense and over-the-top the majority of the time, something which can get incredibly grating. It’s not a bad song but it definitely turns into overload partway through. Jim Bob clearly has the ability to put a lot of emotion and power into his voice, but it would be much more effective if this were saved for the occasional particularly important line, with the others treated more subtly.

‘Skywest And Crooked’ is where the lyrics start to get a bit more abstract, and I like it for the fact that it’s positive but not overwhelmingly so, still remaining grounded, especially with the dark and thought provoking Ian Dury quote at the end. But I can’t say the same for the cover ‘The Impossible Dream’, which is difficult to believe coming from the same guy who’s just sung all these sardonic lyrics, and therefore I don’t really see it as part of the album. It would have been more effective to end with the spoken words of ‘I do not think they were asking why they were dying, but why they had ever lived.’

So, overall, I know that Carter have a very dedicated following and to a certain point, I can see the appeal: behind some uninteresting rhythms and unnecessary swearing they’re intelligent and cynical with a lot of important things to say and no fear of saying them. So they are worthwhile listening, but with too many weaknesses to ever become either essential or frequent listening. For days when you feel particularly disillusioned with society only.

King Crimson: Absent Lovers; Live in Montreal 1984

Absent Lovers

Best song: Indiscipline

Worst song: Sartori in Tangier

Overall grade: 6

Prog live albums are hit and miss. Some bands, like Jethro Tull and ELP, made great ones, while other bands like Genesis and Rush didn’t really add anything to their studio versions. King Crimson, similarly, also made hit and miss live albums. Under ‘miss’, see early release Earthbound as well as ThraKattaK. Under ‘hit’, see this one.

The approach Fripp and company took with this release was not to try to tick off material from all stages of their career, and to focus heavily on the New Wave style material that had characterised their three 80s albums, although there were a couple of interludes to play a song each from ‘Lark’s Tongues’ and ‘Red’. This decision gave the concert a more uninterrupted, cohesive feel, so that it’s very clear that you’re listening to the same band all the way through.

Things are brilliant right from the perfectly-timed, gradual build-up of ‘Entry of the Crims’. Robert Fripp must have spent years and years getting this one right. It was worth it, though; he creeps me out no end on this, the kind of creepy that means you can’t quite tear yourself away. It mostly serves as a very extended build up (read: longer than the song itself) to ‘Lark’s Tongues in Aspic, Part III’ as well as mentally preparing the audience for the onslaught to come.

And when it does, it’s fantastic. ‘Lark’s Tongues’ just blows the original out of the water, and it was already the best song on Three. It’s a lightning-fast instrumental that takes all kinds of side bends and U-turns such that you can never quite keep up with it, and any audience member who wasn’t already fully engrossed would have been forced to sit up and pay attention. ‘Lark’s II’ also has its place on Disc 2 of the record, although personally I would have liked to hear the two songs played back to back, to hear the callbacks between the two juxtaposed against the very different musical styles. Still, both are individually fascinating too.

The other song from the 70s days, ‘Red’, doesn’t stick out as much as it should. Adrian Belew and Tony Levin adding their own twists to the song bring it more up to date with the newer stuff, and the less studio-precise live setting makes the recent material feel more classic, and all in all ‘Red’ blends in pretty well. If ‘Starless’ had been included, I probably would have written it off as something too sacred to be messed with, but although I love the original ‘Red’ I actually equally appreciate this new version, although I still can’t see it as the definitive version of the song.

 The other two 80s albums of King Crimson, Beat and Three of a Perfect Pair, are distinctively average. Very listenable, but without the idiosyncrasies that made Discipline such a success. And yet put in this live context, a lot of them shine just as much as that favourite of mine does. In fact, it makes picking a best song incredibly hard, since there’s the difficulty of whether to pick, say, ‘Indiscipline which was an already amazing song made even better, or something like ‘Industry’ which so wildly improves on its studio version that it takes on a whole other life.

 Interestingly enough, there are no true improvisations here (just extended sections to some songs), which are certainly what Crimson were famous for earlier in their career. I wonder, if I went to a King Crimson show and everything was drawn from pre-written material, would I be disappointed? When the songs are as good as this, it’s hard to say, but I do think that the spontaneous music creation is a big part of the band, and hearing the members play off each other live would definitely be interesting, although as this show was only recorded on one night it would be quite a risk.

I wasn’t a massive fan of ‘Dig Me’ on Three; I see it as a failed experiment, but here, coming in the middle of a section Belew describes as “the weird stuff”, it no longer seems like experimenting for experimenting’s sake and is actually engaging. There’s other good stuff from the same album too: ‘Sleepless’ is literally ruled by Bruford who delivers a stunningly powerful performance, and (as already mentioned) ‘Industry’ which showed serious potential in the studio but only fully comes into its own in the more fleshed-out and atmospheric version we see here.

‘Beat’ is the least represented of the three 80s albums, and while I really enjoy the extended interpretation of ‘Waiting Man’ where all the band members play excellently, my favourite part of ‘Sartori in Tangier’ is the bit where Belew asks the audience if they know any good jokes. Truth be told, nobody plays any worse on this song than anywhere else, but it feels like it was thrown in just to get more representation for the album, and so it feels unnecessary and with so many other good instrumentals on the album, its comparative weaknesses definitely show. Then, lastly, there’s ‘Heartbeat’ which is well placed in the encore for being one of the most conventionally song-orientated and – dare I say it – catchy KC songs ever.

As far as ‘Discipline’ itself goes, its contributions aren’t massively altered – because they don’t need to be - but are just played with more energy, emotion and unpredictability. Doing these detailed songs on a live album requires impeccable production, which is achieved perfectly, especially sticking out on your ‘Indiscipline’ and your ‘Matte Kudasai’.

Overall, I’d have to pick ‘Indiscipline’ as my overall favourite song, simply because I never thought it could be improved upon and yet they still managed. My expectations were so high before hearing it for the first time, but the band exceeded them with their precision playing and involvement in their chillingly slowed-down performance. Yet ‘Thela Hun Ginjeet’ also proves a highlight as Levin takes it and runs with it all over the place, Belew following close behind. And the intense and fast-paced ‘Elephant Talk’ is a perfect grand finale to what must have been a spectacular live show to attend. I can only hope that when the band start playing live again next year, they’re even half as good as this.

All in all, a truly great live album, and one that makes ‘Beat’ and ‘Three of a Perfect Pair’ wholly unnecessary, as you can find everything you need here. It shows no signs of the band getting tired, even though it was the last concert they would play for ten years. Still, I guess it’s not that surprising… after all, Fripp already had experience with going out on a high note.

Sigur Ros Tour 2013

Sigur Rós ‘Kveikur’ Tour 2013

Date: 20 November 2013

Location: Brighton Centre, Brighton

Support: i break horses

Special guests: n/a

The Wednesday just gone, I saw what is most likely to be the last concert I see until mid February. This is still very hard for me to write and I’m not entirely sure that I can survive for that long, so wish me luck. Anyway, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this one in quite a few ways. I know all of Sigur Rós’ albums, but I didn’t entirely know how the music was going to translate to a live setting. Add to that how they’re always right at the top of those ‘best live acts’ list and I was really quite intrigued about the entire evening.

I was kept in suspense for quite a while. Though doors opened at 6.30pm, the band didn’t come on stage until 9. There was a half-hour set by a support act, though, which I checked out. They were called ‘i break horses’ (no uppercase letters on the sign, anyway) and were a Swedish duo who hid themselves behind a translucent white curtain and played computerised, soundscapey music which was both beautiful and futuristic; a good complement to the headliners. I was particularly interested by the breathy, ethereal vocals they put on top of quite a few of their tracks, and I definitely would investigate further.

I’d thought that the white curtain would have been for them, either because they always used it or so that nobody could properly see the stage until Sigur Rós took the stage, but when they did, they kept it hiding them for the first couple of songs. They began with the new ‘Yfirboro’ and the () song ‘Vaka’, which happens to be one of my favourites, two very light and minimalistic songs, and the whole effect was so tantalising, because you could just about see them moving around and you could hear them playing but at the same time you knew that they were just holding themselves back from being so much more intense.

And then they were. As the second song finished they launched straight into ‘Brennisteinn’, a track for which they pulled out all the stops when it came to power, and as they did so, the curtain dropped to the floor in a perfectly timed movement, revealing the stage and band behind it.

The first thing that struck me was how many of them there were – I counted eleven in total, despite there being only three official band members these days, and even more impressive was that a lot of them played a range of instruments as the concert drew on. The stage was literally packed with equipment and it was really quite surprising they were able to move around. But as well as the instruments, there were a good twenty old fashioned lanterns scattered around the stage, looking exactly like giant candles, creating a great atmosphere, more personal, less artificial and more eye-catching than the huge, brightly coloured swirling lights that changed colour every so often and shone down on everyone from above the stage.

The headline act themselves didn’t play for much more than an hour and a half, but they packed everything they possibly could into that time. There was very little talking and the breaks between songs were short, which meant you never really came back down to reality after all the crazy places the music was taking you. I was impressed that they managed to keep the atmosphere, and the audience’s attention, for pretty much the whole time without a break, whether the focus was on the video screens at the back or the lights at the front or the players themselves.

I thought the mix of albums that songs came from was pretty excellent. I can’t pronounce any of the titles and so couldn’t tell anyone what the songs were, but was able to think to myself ‘Ah, that’s the hoppy song from the tacky album…’ and keep a relatively good idea of what was going on (of course, I’m talking about ‘Hoppipolla’ from Takk…’) They played quite a lot of songs from the new album, as well as a good (and fairly similar) amount of older stuff. This was good for two reasons: firstly, I think the new album is definitely one of their best, and secondly, there was a great balance of moods and styles, between the untarnished magical beauty of their early music and the darker intensity of what they’ve been doing recently. 1997’s ‘Von’ was the only album that didn’t get a look in, and although it would have been nice to tick off all of them, there’s nothing I would have wanted taken out in order to include something from there.

I was disappointed when they left the stage after playing the main set that we hadn’t heard anything at all from ‘Agaetis byrjun’, which has so many great songs on it, but when they returned to play the (first) encore, Jonsi Birgisson quietly stated that they were now going to play something that they hadn’t played live in years, and it turned out to be… the title track from that album! Which is only my favourite from the entire thing. So, that was an incredibly welcome surprise, and to finish off we were treated with a stunning extended rendition of ‘Popplagio’, which I’d probably have to pick as the highlight, obvious choice as it may be, because of how they all so masterfully handled the song’s build up, turning it into a spectacular concert finish.

So overall, it probably wasn’t what I expected, because I expected them to have Something, some sort of strange gimmick that made their concerts different to everyone else’s and that got people to remember them. What I actually got was better. They didn’t do anything flashy, they just played their music the best they possibly could and let it speak for themselves. And for those ninety minutes, it was really easy to forget that you were standing in the middle of a large hall in a conference centre in Brighton. You could just as easily have been in Sigur Rós’ home land of Iceland, lying under an unpolluted night sky, or any number of other beautiful places that I’ve never been to and possibly never will. But for one evening, Sigur Rós made that feel possible. That’s the thing that sets them apart.

After the concert, I walked to the hotel next door and got into bed. It was the shortest journey back from a concert ever.

[REQUEST] Gorgoroth: Antichrist

Antichrist

Best song: …there’s a best song? okay, Gorgoroth

Worst song: Possessed By Satan

Overall grade: 1

[Author’s note: Because everything conspires against this site, my excuse of the week is illness. Also, an apology for what I reviewed here. It was a request. I hope never to be asked to review anything else by the band. >.>]

Gorgoroth are a Norwegian black metal band named after an evil place in Lord of the Rings, which I’ve seen once and don’t entirely remember. They’ve released about nine albums and use, variously, English, Norwegian and Latin words for their song titles. Lots of black metal fans hold the band’s first three albums (of which this is the second) as a defining example of the genre, and truthfully, this album is outstanding in many ways. For example, if it was supposed to be a way of making sure you never got any visitors, it would be excellent. Similarly, it might be good at scaring people into doing whatever you want. It would probably even do nicely as an insect repellent. However, as an album of music, to be listened to, enjoyed and analysed, it falls short in several key ways.

The first problem is, let’s be honest, with the word ‘music’. I imagine ‘Antichrist’ would be highly enjoyable for anyone who really, really can’t stand music. When I listen to it, I feel the need to have the sound turned right down low for fear of being overwhelmed by feelings of despair that anybody could actually make this.

Really, this is more of an EP than an album, since there are only five tracks that are longer than 20 seconds, and the total length is twenty-five minutes. Even if this album did have a strong concept or musical flow, we’re not really given enough time to get into it here. The first twenty seconds are entitled the Norwegian equivalent of ‘A Rank Smell of Christian Blood’, which is probably simultaneously the worst and most offensive song title I’ve ever heard, and this quality is second only to the song itself, which consists solely of distorted animal noises, and is quite plainly the shortest overlong track in existence.

Track two is entitled ‘Mountain Troll’s Revenge’, which could easily be setting us up for an entertainingly cheesy slice of fantasy rock, but it’s not to be. Actually, the riff that’s played at the beginning isn’t all that heavy at all and could almost be catchy, but it’s repeated and sped up to death until you’re so sick of it that even the vocals become preferable. And the vocals would very rarely be preferable, considering they contain no actual melody, and are rasped so much that it’s impossible to make out the lyrics.

The third track (named after the band themselves) actually does have some sort of melody that I can just about hear in the background, but all the weird distortion noises in the front completely drown it out, so you’re always stretching for it and never reaching it, which is highly unsatisfying. As time goes on, the melody comes more into play, and there’s a folk influence hiding in there, which probably makes it the most tolerable of the songs here. ‘Possessed By Satan’ is the worst, though. Allegedly, it has a different vocalist to the previous two, but I wouldn’t have noticed without being told; they sound like generic unclean vocals to me, of the kind that can work well in moderation but that are seriously overused here. It’s serious filler, indistinguishable from the dullest parts of any other song, and has no redeeming features that I can see.

I imagine that if this band were to make a good song, it would be an instrumental, but there’s just not enough variety in ‘Heavens Fall’ to make it so. Extreme heaviness works best, in my opinion, when it’s got something to contrast with, to be heavier than. When it’s all the same, there’s no benchmark and no progression, and the track doesn’t seem to vary its emotions, just staying dark and militaristic and crushing the whole time.

Final track ‘Sorrow’ is slowed down and sounds like a funeral march, like they got really tired after all the fast stuff, the chanting in the background helping with that mood. Much like the last song, there’s a deliberate, controlled beat keeping it together, and, well, often not much else. I don’t know if the drums and guitar actually recorded this whole piece or if they just recorded two bars and copy and  pasted them a hundred times. The worst part is that the guitar player actually seems to have talent. He just doesn’t make the most of it.

There’s also a bonus track! It’s about ten seconds of running water. It’s a grand artistic statement. No, I’m just kidding, it really is nothing but running water.

“Music”, “tunes”, and other air quoted things aside, I guess one of Gorgoroth’s defining characteristics is their subject matter. Now, I respect freedom of speech and therefore, if a band wants to write exclusively about medieval Satanism, they can, even if I personally don’t agree with it at all. However, Gorgoroth do this thing where they refuse to release their song lyrics to the public, and I suspect it has something to do with them not actually being that good. I mean, they’re hardly the first band to make the whole devil-worshipping thing their trademark, and to keep it in any way creative there has to be a certain amount of lyrical talent. I can’t say for sure, but from what I can hear and what I can infer, I’d guess that there is none.

All in all, I couldn’t ever recommend this album to anyone, even if I didn’t like them. The moments of vague pleasantness are so few and far between that they’re probably accidental and what I most enjoy about listening to it is counting the seconds until it ends.

The thing is, black metal is not the type of music I listen to. Some people like it, though. I can understand the face that some people enjoy music that is incredibly heavy, raw and dark, and puts power and intensity above melody – that’s just personal preferences. I can even understand that to some people, the subject matter of the album is interesting. What I can’t get over is the sheer repetitiveness of everything here. Every musical idea contained within could be squashed into the length of a standard single and I wouldn’t feel like I was being deprived of anything: heavy cannot be a substitute for interesting.

Roxy Music: For Your Pleasure

For Your Pleasure

Best song: For Your Pleasure

Worst song: you’re implying that there’s a bad song on this album? there isn’t of course, but let’s say Beauty Queen

Overall grade: 7

It’s been forty years since 1973, and not one of them has come close to topping the number of exciting, innovative, near-perfect albums that were put out that year. Roxy Music trailblazed here, getting their second album out in the first quarter of the year, and actually going above and beyond to put out another one before the year was over. Despite this, there’s nothing at all rushed about any of this work. If anything, it feels more carefully put-together than ever.

‘Roxy Music’ and ‘For Your Pleasure’ are, in my opinion, two halves of the same double album that just happened to be released at different times. ‘Roxy Music’ is the late afternoon and the early evening, where people are poised and careful and there’s an anticipation of what’s to come, and ‘For Your Pleasure’ had moved onto the late night where everything is wilder, sexier and more dangerous. You can even see this just by looking at the album covers, and there’s all kinds of links between the two in song titles and musical ideas as well.

‘Do The Strand’ is an intense and passionate opener that sums up the essence of Roxy Music for me; there’s some great texture in all the instruments and Ferry sounds so involved in his vocal performance. It’s only four minutes long, but has the feel of a much longer song all packed together into a shorter length, and it never takes a moment to find its way – it knows exactly where it’s going and powers through to get there as fast as possible.

Both ‘Beauty Queen’ and ‘Strictly Confidential take things in an entirely different direction, slowing the pace right down and allowing more time to show off the band’s talents. Ferry certainly demonstrates to anyone who didn’t already know his capability of adding copious amounts of emotion into his vocals on ‘Beauty Queen’, a song that some people consider too ‘normal’ – but in actual fact there’s a lot of weird stuff going on in the synth and guitar parts, they’re just not such a blatant part of the song. They are there, though, quietly resisting the vocals’ insistence on becoming a straight up love song. ‘Strictly Confidential’ is a definite highlight on both lyrics and atmosphere, and I love the role the sax plays in this.

If Roxy Music had been going to release a single from this album at the time, then my pick is for ‘Editions of You’, the definitive fusion of pop and art rock, with foot-tapping rhythms, hooks everywhere, amazing solos from pretty much every member of the band. It’s one of those songs that succeeds in being instantly likeable but also has a lot of long-lasting appeal. If it had been released in the 90s, it would probably have its own dance.

But if they were going to release a retrospective single, then what could be more recognisable than ‘In Every Dream Home a Heartache’? I mean, how many songs can you think of that are about inflatable sex dolls? Personally, I can think of two (some people might think that’s two too many) and this is definitely my favourite. It’s almost an inside joke, the way everything seems so cinematic and melodramatic at first even despite the subject matter, and Ferry’s singing this love poem as though he’s entirely serious about it, right up to the ‘I blew up your body…’ line, and then gives up all pretence at the punchline ‘…but you blew my mind’, and then it’s like nobody else can keep a straight face any more as all the instruments cascade in at once. It’s genius.

There’s a dreamlike, surreal quality to the first few minutes of ‘Bogus Man’, which definitely ties into this being a nighttime album: it’s like that feeling when it gets so late that nothing seems real anymore. Its rhythm seems to predate the Talking Heads, who Eno would of course go on to work with, but that’s not the only foreshadowing of Eno’s later work; the hypnotic, repeated phrases are exactly the same principle that he would take to extremes with his ambient work. Then, ‘Grey Lagoons’ is a 50s-style song with an inimitable solo from Phil Manzanera that tends to get overlooked because of its position on the album, but definitely holds its own by rocking out between the two epics of the side.

Course, absolutely everything else is leading up to the pure indulgence of the title track, where the vocals are rich and the piano is lavish and the whole song is a special treat that never really gets moving because it doesn’t need to; it’s perfectly OK with just lazing around and getting the absolute most out of everything it has to offer. Still, it has that unsettling feeling that something’s not quite right beneath the surface, keeping you alert, making every second of the song fascinating. Eno may not have a writing credit but he’s all over this song in the haze of synths coating it and steps forward to take his bow in the experimental section that closes it all out. If such a thing were possible, then I’d say this song knows just how good it is.

Though that may be the culmination of it all, every part of this album is essential, and I wouldn’t want to change a thing about it.

And so ends the altogether too brief period of Eno’s Roxy Music, which can overall only be described as one of the most successful genre mishmashes of all time. Eno would go on to have an incredibly impressive good-to-bad ratio in his string of song-based solo albums as well as invent an entire genre of music before the decade was over. Roxy Music, meanwhile, would stay together with Ferry coming to the front more than ever before, and within months would release the album that most people consider to be their best. Personally, although the first time I heard ‘For Your Pleasure’ was before I heard ‘Stranded’, I was pretty confident even then that they couldn’t release an album greater than this one.

David Bowie: The Man Who Sold The World

The Man Who Sold The World

Best song: The Width of a Circle

Worst song: She Shook Me Cold

Overall grade: 4

Following the success of the single ‘Space Oddity’, David Bowie started trying to put together a more stable group of musicians to work with. This group would then go on to become one of the most famous backing bands of any musician, ever (save for Bob Dylan). Yes, this album does indeed feature a very rough blueprint for what was to become the Spiders from Mars. Micks Ronson and Woodmansey make their first appearance on this album, and Trevor Bolder was the only missing link… but that’s later. For now, we’re just talking about this album, which, although clearly a vital step in Bowie’s evolution, is overlooked and even criticised by fans as often as it is praised.

So, where do I stand on this album that divides the opinions of those who actually remember it exists? Well, I like it. Truth be told I liked it quite a bit more before I found out that Bowie himself wasn’t massively involved in the songwriting process. Maybe that factor shouldn’t be such an influence on my opinion, but it is. David Bowie is one of the most creative and imaginative men in music, and for him – or any musician, for that matter – to put his name on a project, I’d hope that he’d want to have written a set of songs he was really happy with, and that he thought were the best he could write, rather than make a start and then hand the job over to somebody else. Maybe I’m just idealistic.

I’m not going to surprise anyone with my pick for best song here. Opener ‘The Width of a Circle’ is as good as it gets – so good, that one particularly devoted fan in Russia pressed so many copies of it onto 7” that lots of people think it was released as an actual, official single. Don’t be fooled by the 1970 release date. This song has the open, anything-goes kind of quality that makes one think of the 60s, and the second part has a space rock quality that almost reminds me of Hawkwind. Hearing Bowie, generally regarded as a camped-up glam rock singer, try his voice at the heavy metal influenced song might seem like a bit of a stretch, but his voice fits in surprisingly well. There’s some spacey atmospherics in the wobbly guitar solo passage between the first two verses, and the lyrics… ‘And the rumour spread that I was aging fast/Then I ran across a monster who was sleeping by a tree/And I looked and frowned and the monster was me’. Or, I could just quote the entire song. Yes, sleeping with the devil in Hell might sound like dubious subject matter and it’s certainly not the kind of thing I’d expect to enjoy a song about, but there are so many excellent lyrical turns of phrase here that I’m forced to have a lot of respect for the way it’s written.

OK, let’s talk about some of the other songs. This album doesn’t have a concept like ‘Ziggy Stardust’ and doesn’t even flow like ‘Hunky Dory’ but most of the songs are worth checking out, and they do continue to prove Bowie’s often underrated lyrical talents. Seriously, sometimes I think this album could hold up well if you just read the lyrics booklet, and the only other people who can do that are Bob Dylan and Jarvis Cocker. ‘All the Madmen’ carries things on in an equally progressive style with creepy vocals and a guitar opening full of anticipation. Its more stripped back arrangement means it acts as a counterpoint to the first song, but it also builds as it goes on, giving it status on its own. I’m a big fan of the spoken word section in the middle that comes out of nowhere, where the band forget to play for a bit, surprising the listener and making the song memorable and unique. It’s the Syd Barrett song that Barrett never wrote.

‘Black Country Rock’ is not one of my favourites; its blues-rock influence is a bit too overpowering for my tastes, and the hook I hear while I listen to it is lying about being a hook, because it isn’t any kind of memorable. The quietly intense ‘After All’ is more my kind of thing, setting Bowie’s whispered, world-weary vocals against the more innocent and choral sound in the background.

I’ll be dull and predictable again in saying that my least favourite track is ‘She Shook Me Cold’, because it just ad no structure… seriously, most jam sessions are better organised than this song, which is nowhere near album-worthy. It feels like it’s trying to be great art but coming off as a bit of a mess. ‘Saviour Machine’ is nothing particularly special either, and ‘Running Gun Blues’ is notable for being the heaviest song, a bit psychotic in places, interesting enough but more controversial than it is good.

 The title track is probably most famous for being covered by Nirvana in the early 90s, but I can think of much better versions. Namely, this one. More than anything else on the record, this is a pop song, and Ronson provides us with a wonderful guitar hook just to prove that point. Closer ‘The Supermen’ is probably the most obvious nod to Bowie’s sci-fi leanings, sounding alternately cold, futuristic and otherworldly, and it’s another bullseye in my book. Its fantastical qualities elevate an otherwise averagely good song to epic status. Another powerful vocal over the grandiose instrumentation bring the album to a crashing, explosive finish that’s well worth the disappointing moments.

So yeah. They say the only constant in life is change, and that’s definitely true of Bowie’s life. It doesn’t matter how much you like or dislike any one album of his, you always know that the next one’s going to be completely different.

Ouch, I haven’t reviewed anything ridiculously positive for quite a while. Tomorrow or Thursday I’ll give something a 7.

I also haven’t been particularly controversial about anything in a while… that’s coming. Oh, it’s coming.

The Who: Who Are You

Who Are You

Best song: Who Are You

Worst song: Love Is Coming Down

Overall grade: 4

[author’s note: wow, major delays on this one. I didn’t really think about the fact that I was travelling over the past couple of weeks and so wouldn’t really be able to write anything. I’m now doing NaNoWriMo, a ridiculous competition to write a 50,000 word novel in a month that I do every year, so that’s keeping me busy too. I’ll update sporadically (read: 2-3 times/week) this month and then daily in December.]

Music is not the only thing in my life that I’m slightly obsessive over. You wouldn’t think I had the time to be fanatical about anything else, but the truth is, I can name every single episode of the original CSI: Las Vegas, in order, unprompted. It’s a useless talent but a good party trick. Based on the statistic that I’ve seen each episode an average of 2.5 times, that means I’ve seen around 750 viewings of the opening credits, which equals 750 renditions of the theme tune, The Who’s ‘Who Are You’.

Yet when I listen to this album as a whole, I’m always pleasantly surprised by what a great song it actually is. Sure, that 15-second edit is enjoyable, but the full 6-minute version has to stand alongside ‘it’. and ‘Starless’ as one of the best sendoffs to an era of a band, ever. It’s final proof that Pete Townshend keeps getting better and better at lyrics, as he tells the tale of a night out drinking gone wrong: ‘I spit out like a sewer hole/Yet still recieve your kiss/How can I measure up to anyone now/After such a love as this?’. He’s come a long way since ‘your lies, lies, la-la-la-la-la-la-lies’. This song also marks Keith Moon’s only truly inspired drum work on the album, as well as being a delicate masterpiece with a synthesizer stitched seamlessly in and out of the other instruments. Minimalist in places, thick and heavy in others, it captures Townshend’s mindset and proved to everyone that the Who weren’t dinosaurs quite yet.

The album also has some interesting tracks which have not yet become soundtracks for major crime dramas, and these include fan favourite ‘Guitar and Pen’, a very meta song about the whole songwriting process. I like most of it, I especially like Roger on this one, but I can’t deal with the closing section that’s an embarrassing failed attempt at prog. Another is the opener, ‘New Song’, which is, as the title suggests, a new song. It’s powerful and very listenable but lacks the substance of the best material from this album and its predecessor.

So, neatly dividing Pete’s songs into two fantastic, two good and two awful, there’s also ‘Music Must Change’. Jazz influences, blues influences, and a more successful prog influence than that mentioned earlier combine to make a song that displays its message incredibly well even if you ignore the lyrics, and although there are no drums, that may actually be a good thing here – how else could you appreciate all the little twists and turns of the song? It’s all very insightful with highly emotional playing from everyone, and a highly satisfying closer for the first side.

Pete Townshend has referred to ‘Sister Disco’ as being one of his least favourite songs to perform, and I’m pretty much in agreement with him on that. It’s a vapid and obvious criticism of the disco music that was just becoming popular in 1978, and while its message may have resonated with listeners back then, it has little relevance now and there are no strokes of genius in the music to help it age. I also struggle to tolerate ‘Love Is Coming Down’ which seems insincerely soppy, and doesn’t engage me at all, unlike some of the Who’s previous ballads, and could probably be improved by a good pounding on the old drum kit to make it rock a bit, if Moon was still up to it.

With the exception of ‘Quadrophenia’, John Entwhistle has contributed a song to every Who album, but here he gets a massive three. That’s a third of the total number of tracks. Was Pete Townshend beginning to cool off from wanting to be in total control, or did he just lack inspiration? I’m generally a big fan of Entwhistle’s work but ‘Trick of the Light’ is certainly not one of his best efforts; it’s a formulaic song with little energy that’s barely worthy of being a remaster bonus track. On both that song and ‘905’, Entwhistle attempts to return to his ‘Boris the Spider’ past and write about more quirky subject matter – ‘Trick’, with its description of an impotent man’s encounter with a prostitute, leaves a bad taste in the mouth, but the science, futuristic vibe of ‘905’ definitely brings a smile and a flicker of the past. The synthesizer dances along and suddenly making music seems like fun rather than work as Pete messes around with electronics and John twiddles with an organ. It’s filler-ish, but it’s very good fun filler.

His final track, and the first one I’d pick for inclusion on a ‘Best of John Entwhistle’ compilation, is ‘Had Enough’. I love its apathetic, dark lyrics and the way they carry through to the music. Interestingly for a Who song, it features a few guests, including Ted Astley arranging the song, Rod Argent on keyboards and a full string orchestra, making it feel fresh compared to the rest of the album but still with enough trademarks to be recognisably Who.

Listening to this album makes it clear that Pete, Roger and John all still have the talent, but that the group as a complete unit is showing cracks. Keith Moon’s problems with drugs and alcohol were taking their toll on everyone, and none of the members are as involved as they once were, and some of the songs really do suffer for it. That said, at this point the Who had a point to prove: that they weren’t going to give up just because there were new music fashions around now. I think that there are enough good songs on the record to back up that assertion, and although it’s a shame that Keith’s farewell record didn’t feature a better performance from him, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that he never had to listen to ‘It’s Hard’.

Pink Floyd: The Final Cut

The Final Cut

Best song: The Fletcher Memorial Home

Worst song: Southampton Dock

Overall grade: 5

After Roger Waters left Pink Floyd in the early 80s, he took a bit of time off and then released a solo album. Of course, before Roger Waters left Pink Floyd he also took a bit of time off and then released a solo album. It’s really quite a shock the first time you pick up a copy of ‘The Final Cut’, released as a Pink Floyd record, and see the writing on the back: “By Roger Waters, performed by Pink Floyd.”

With Richard Wright firmly out of the band and David Gilmour and Nick Mason out of songwriting ideas, Roger took it upon himself to further his obsession with anti-war propaganda and dedicate an entire album to it. Much of it is poetry set to sparse backing music. Instrumental breaks are a rare commodity, positive messages are nonexistent, and it’s light years away from the fun sound collage at the end of ‘Bike’. But like it or not, for all official purposes, this is as much Pink Floyd as that – and if it seems something of an outlier in its style, it’s more than good enough to deserve the name in my opinion.

The quietest murmur opens ‘The Post War Dream’: ‘Tell me truly, tell me why/was Jesus crucified/was it for this that Daddy died?’ The song sounds like one of the quietest moments off The Wall – especially that ‘hint of accusation’ line, which contains exactly the same vocal inflection he used a few times on that album. The lyrics both set the tone and provide a good opening; Roger commenting on how society has lost the hope for the future it had after the war. This is particularly relevant coming, as it was, mere months after another war, the Falklands War, ended.

‘Your Possible Pasts’ has a chorus, of sorts. It’s a lonely and desperate song, and the chorus is still both of these things, but it’s loud and echoey as well. This contrasting effect is repeated on a few songs and really suits the album, as Roger sadly contemplates his subject matter and then suddenly snaps, his sadness turning to rage. But tellingly, the solo by Dave really adds something – its despondent quality makes us feel like there’s no hope left – showing that Roger works better with someone to play off of him.

‘One Of The Few’ has an incredibly delicate guitar part behind it, which is pretty, but I think it would work even better on piano. Wright’s input is definitely missed in these minimal songs. One of the most fully realised songs is ‘The Gunner’s Dream’. With the interesting piano chords and the great saxophone part, the lyrics don’t dominate quite as much here, and overall this is the song that sounds most like 70s Pink Floyd. And the following ‘Paranoid Eyes’ almost has a melody in its pretty, reminiscing middle section, bringing side one to a heart-wrenching close.

The single greatest moment on the album is undoubtedly ‘The Fletcher Memorial Home’, which proves my vaguely controversial opinion that a song doesn’t have a melody to have hooks – this one gets stuck in my head all the time. Roger’s so passionate on the song. They say you should write about what you believe in, and that’s definitely the case here.

A few of the shorter tracks are nothing more than linking pieces. They fit the concept and when listening to the album as a whole, they work, but they don’t add anything in particular. ‘Southampton Dock’ is probably the best example of this, but ‘The Hero’s Return’ also qualifies.

On the title track, as on quite a few other songs, I’m mostly waiting, anticipating those moments when Roger just loses control and suddenly goes really intense. To me, those moments of catharsis are what make the album really worthwhile. I guess that with Roger completely in charge of songwriting, he can write what best suits his voice, keeping things technically simple but emotionally complex.

I’ve read quite a few reviews of this album, although not for a while, and I can’t remember one that doesn’t take offense at ‘Not Now John’. One of the main complaints is its being completely anomalous with the rest of the album. It’s true, there are guitars pretty constantly throughout and you can hear it without turning the volume up full, but essentially the mood is the same. The female vocals in the background are distorted and creepy and Gilmour’s guitar soloing seems to move round in the mix, creating a sense of confusion, and as for the lyrics, they’re every bit as desperate as everything else on the record. I don’t see it as a failed attempt at a “rocker”, I see it as a successful attempt at a very twisted version of a rocker.

I do think this album works incredibly well as a unit; more so than as individual songs. It’s impossible to tell which songs are Wall outtakes and which are new, everything blends so well together. And while it seems like a daunting prospect, being lectured on the evils of war for forty-three minutes, if anyone can do it while keeping you emotionally involved and without sounding preachy; it’s Roger Waters. And apart from anything else, it’s a great lesson in how to make exactly the music you want without compromising yourself for anyone.

Steven Wilson World Tour 2013

Steven Wilson ‘The Raven That Refused to Sing’ Tour 2013

Date: 20 October 2013

Location: Royal Albert Hall, London

Support: n/a (there’s never support at concerts I go to! not sure why…)

Special guests: n/a

Something always goes wrong when I try to go to a concert. Typically this involves large amounts of traffic and/or an inability to find the venue, and consequently arriving any time between five minutes before the band are due on stage and fifteen minutes after. So you can imagine my concern when I arrived at the Royal Albert Hall with almost an hour to go until Steven Wilson started playing. Surely, surely, the worrying lack of problems so far in the night meant we were pretty much guaranteed to have a power outing or a crucial band member suddenly taken ill? But somehow, amazingly, everything managed to happen according to plan. I even managed to buy a glow-in-the-dark T-shirt with the Raven cover art on.

Essentially, this night was particularly important to me because Steven Wilson is someone who I could never forgive myself if I passed up the opportunity to see. (This has been something I’ve had in mind ever since I passed up the chance to see Ian Anderson play Thick as a Brick a couple of years back, and regretted it ever since.) So I went, even though I was really tired and it was the night before I was due to go away.

And at first, honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d made the right decision. The concert opened with a twenty-minute video that consisted mostly of a camera pointed at a single street in London, monitoring the dull occurrences (staged or otherwise) that took place there in a typical day. Eventually, a busker (maybe played by Wilson himself – I’m not sure because the screen was very small and the man’s head was covered by the lighting rig) turned up, took out his guitar, tuned it, and, after an intolerably long pause, began to play the opening notes to ‘Trains’ by Porcupine Tree. At this very moment, Wilson himself walked on stage, carrying his own acoustic guitar, playing along. When he opened his mouth to sing; that was the moment I knew I’d made the right decision to come.

‘Trains’ was but a brief introduction, however, and immediately following it the band plunged into ‘Luminol’, which was the song from The Raven that worked best live. Its larger than life, 70s throwback feel really made it seem like I was travelling back in time, and I could tell everyone on stage was really throwing themselves into it. That’s not to dismiss the album’s other songs, though: ‘The Holy Drinker’, though it lacked Alan Parsons’ guitar solo, had even more power and confidence than the original. ‘The Watchmaker’ kept the delicate beauty of its studio version, and it and ‘Drive Home’ were both kept absolutely believable with the help of Wilson’s vocals. ‘Drive Home’ was accompanied by a video, which like the opening one I had trouble seeing, but what I did see looked like a great and moving accompaniment. The one song that I thought didn’t quite live up to the original was the title track, ‘The Raven that Refused to Sing’ itself, because it lacked the intimacy and clean feel that I like about it, and tried a little too hard to be an epic concert closer.

Of course, there were also a range of songs from Wilson’s two previous albums. The highlight of these was ‘Index’ for sure: already a highlight on Grace for Drowning, its fast-paced psychopathy was magnified on stage and I was half expecting Wilson to leap out into the audience, brandishing a knife – hearing it played like that was a real rush. Another great moment was the condensed, 15-minute version of ‘Raider II’ which was such a good decision for the band, as it kept all the best parts of the original while cutting out the parts that weren’t quite as strong. ‘Sectarian’ made an appearance too, and is notable for being the point in the concert where I had the ‘I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be here’ moment I have somewhere in every concert, and we were also treated to the melancholy ballad ‘Postcard’, which I wasn’t expecting to work on stage but did, and the single from Insurgentes, ‘Harmony Korine’, which I’ve apparently been pronouncing wrong for years. Oh, yeah, and it was incredibly well played by the entire band, especially the keyboard player.

Just before the interval, Wilson announced that he was premiering a new song, stating ‘Some people are surprised that I’ve written new material already… but I’m old enough to remember a time when it was normal for bands to release an album every year.’ I love the idea; I always love to hear new music and generally do enjoy songs right from the first listen, so it was a great contrast to the other songs that I knew really well. The new song was called ‘Wreckage’ (that night, anyway) and, though unpolished, seems like it’s going to be really, really excellent. It’s very dynamic, combining the high intensity of ‘Luminol’ with the quiet emotion of ‘Drive Home’, as well as something else I can’t quite put my finger on that shows he’s still growing as a songwriter. I have high hopes for his fourth album.

Between songs, Wilson was a great showman and had great interactions with the audience. Towards the beginning, he casually revealed that this was his hundredth solo show. ‘Since I was last here with Porcupine Tree, I’ve made two solo records and played a hundred shows, according to my statistician… or maybe it’s a hundred solo records and two shows, I can never remember.’ Later, he and his keyboard player educated us on the Mellotron. ‘How many of you know what a Mellotron is?’ (Cue a large cheer.) ‘So those of you who are over sixty. It was the first sampling instrument and is particularly famous for its flute and string sounds.’ The player demonstrates by playing a few bars of the introductions to ‘Strawberry Fields’ and ‘The Court of the Crimson King’. ‘No songs have ever made those sounds famous…’

And as if he hasn’t given us enough great material already, Wilson and band come back after the final Raven number to play ‘Radioactive Toy’ from the first ever Porcupine Tree album. It’s probably the first great song he ever wrote, and it’s a real reminder of where he came from. In true arena-pop-concert style, he offers the audience the microphone to sing the final chorus, and it may only be a couple thousand voices, but everyone gets into it, shouting as loudly and tunelessly as they can ‘Give me a reason to destroy; give me… RADIOACTIVE TOY!’ Then, we’re treated to a space rock improvisation to finish the night – ‘because nobody started using the P-word to describe me until the third or fourth album.’

I’d go back tonight if I could. As that’s not possible, I’ll probably be waiting until the next tour, but I would undoubtedly go back.

Biffy Clyro: Blackened Sky

Blackened Sky

Best song: Kill The Old, Torture Their Young, although there’s a few contenders

Worst song: eh. Convex, Concave?

Overall grade: 4

So, I’m starting another new band because I keep coming to the end of discographies (it’s really quite terrifying. Reviews of first albums are difficult) and I thought that I’d try another band that’s never really been covered by anyone in the WRC before. So I thought for a while and realised that as far as contradictory bands go, Biffy Clyro have to be right up there. I mean, I have friends who like them who typically only listen to the most formulaic of songs, yet just a few years ago – with the same exact members - they were underground and experimental; and they themselves have claimed a prog influence. And somewhere along the way there was a magic point where it all turned out right. I know they’re hardly the first or only band to have done this, but something about the way it’s happened in my lifetime, right in front of my eyes provoking different reactions from different friends, makes me interested to review them.

The band’s first album was released in 2002, and it isn’t that magic moment. You probably guessed that from the rating, though, so I don’t feel bad about saying that so close to the start.

I love ‘Joy.Discovery.Invention’ as an opener, enigmatic and claustrophobic, with the vocals and ominous drum beat that stay quiet and controlled except for the occasional bursts of emotion with ‘get up, get up!’ until the two minute mark where everything explodes in a burst of distortion. It’s a great moment, but once everything’s become all fuzzy it’s not quite so interesting, since it makes it harder to hear what’s going on.

Second song ‘27’ follows the same pattern with its quiet section followed by a loud section, but in this one I prefer the loud! The quieter part is a little dull and passes me by, but the  louder part is full of energised and uplifting guitars. Fan favourite ‘Justboy’ is the first song that’s good all the way through. It’s constantly restless, unable to decide what tempo or volume it wants to be, but wherever it goes it carries a huge hook and powerful vocals, and has a great, larger-than-life guitar solo in the middle. It’d almost be worth seeing them live just for this.

‘Kill The Old, Torture Their Young’ is the only track (on this album) where I consider their claim to a prog influence to really be justified. That’s not just because of its 6+ minute length; it’s also down to the cryptic lyrics, the labour that’s clearly gone into making it perfectly flow into one song, the many and varied instrumental sections, the gorgeous little piano solo, the little bit around the 5 minute mark that sounds like ‘Run Like Hell’. It reminds me of the Mars Volta in places. I mean, it’s not a full-blown prog song, but it’s a full-on good song, and that’s more important.

The introduction to ‘The Go-Slow’ is all kinds of interesting and the beginning lyrical part is quite beautiful, but what is with this band’s obsession with the quiet/loud divide? It was cool the first few times, but now I’m wondering if they’ve ever heard of the gradual build, or even of the numbers five and six on the amplifier. And the singer loses a certain amount of charisma when he starts screaming everything. Similar complaint about ‘Christopher’s River’, since it starts out as a darkly pretty and evocative ballad but disintegrates a little later, although it does manage to hold onto its melody, unlike its predecessor.

The lyrics on ‘Hero Management’ are insightful and delivered with just the right amount of uncertainty. It’s the song where they really let themselves loose on their own instruments and play a long, dynamic instrumental passage in the middle. ‘Stress on the Sky’ does this too, and it’s a very aptly titled one, since it does have the feel that they’re trapped and straining to escape from something. It passes through the conventions of a normal song along the way, but it’s still the most ‘out there’ song on the album. Not for the faint hearted, it layers throbbing instruments and pained wails to create an inescapable sound that comes at you from all sides.

There are moments of brilliance on the second half of the album, such as the call and response of the guitars and drums in the opening of ‘Convex, Concave’, which is a really cool effect, but they’re scattered between a fair amount of quite forgettable material. But you know what? They do finally make their ballad, in a sense. ‘Scary Mary’ never loses its grip on itself or descends into anarchy, and its aching nostalgia and low, reflective guitar makes it a great ending to the album, so you’ll finish it feeling content, even if it’s been fairly flawed throughout.

Their incessant use of fuzz pedals definitely gets on my nerves, and often they’re a bit too involved in their worship of 90s alt-rock bands to concentrate on their considerable talents in both pop music and experimentalism. But it’s not a disaster, and it provides a great blueprint for later works.

Fun Biffy game: go onto the YouTube video for any of their songs, and count the number of people who write the catchphrase ‘Mon the Biff’ in the comments. It entertains me particularly with these songs, because all these people who claim to be “different” for listening to their older stuff are, in fact, all exactly the same by posting the exact same thing.