Tag: #underworld

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Empire’s Fall — A Trio of Twins from the Kingdom

A lot has happened in the past month — most of it utterly terrific — but rather than let the darkness totally envelop us, I thought I’d come through with a little cheer and some new songs to fill your ears. (Besides, we’re going to need some serious playlists to get us through the next four years — that and a hearty helping of liquor and luck — so better start stocking up…) As I start to gear up for my annual exercise of extolling my favorite listens of the year, there were a few entries that won’t make the list, but are still worth a listen so wanted to share them before I go dark for a bit — one more time before the big look back and the heart of the year-end holidays!

We’ve got a trio of albums this time from our friends across the pond (who better to accompany us on our path to the end of the rainbow and our reign as the world’s leading light?) and some long-time favorites back with solid, not stellar outings. And since we are walking into a long four years we’ll pull a pair of songs from each album to start rounding those soundtracks out. We’ll start with the youngest of the bunch, the Irish quintet Fontaines D.C., and their fourth album Romance, which came out a few months back. It’s their first in two years (2022’s Skinty Fia landed at #10 on my year-end list) and it finds the band stretching their sound even further.  The album comes across as something of a mixtape, one where the band offers their impressions of some of the kingdom’s best over the years.  There’s the Depeche-inspired title track that opens the proceedings, the Cure-ified twins of “Sundowner” and “Favourite,” and the Smiths-sounding “Bug,” which gallops along on a melody that would make Mr Marr proud.

Unfortunately the disparate influences and homages deliver a somewhat disjointed listen overall and sound like a band searching for something to say rather than the assertive, focused fury found on their previous albums. I’m in the minority here (a trend, of late) as the reviews raved about this one, calling it their best yet, and while it left me a little cold there are still a number of strong songs to listen to. Lead single “Starburster” and the aforementioned “Bug” are two faves, so give them a listen here:


Speaking of the Cure and glowing reviews, the legends returned a few weeks ago with their first album in sixteen years, Songs of a Lost World. The album debuted at #1 (their first in thirty two years!) and has already been nominated for a pair of Grammys (their first in twenty three years), amazingly equaling their previous total overall. (Seriously — these guys had only been nominated twice before?! Fontaines have three noms and they just got started — the Cure have been around for forty five frigging years!) It’s almost as if they could tell they would be needed, as we stand on the precipice of gloom and doom — if the last voice I hear before I fall into the abyss is Robert Smith’s, that’s not an end to lament too strenuously…

Despite sporting only eight songs in its nearly hour-long runtime, the band leans heavily into its mood conjuring magic, giving nearly every song a two to three minute preamble before those glorious vocals materialize out of the mist. (Closing “Endsong” goes even further with nearly six and a half minutes of it in its ten minute duration!) Prior to that it’s all swirling synths and glossy guitars, spinning clouds of cotton candy for you to fall into and devour. Lyrically it’s pretty dour (Smith wrote the songs grieving the loss of his parents and brother, leading to sunny sentiments such as, “here is to love, to all the love falling out of our lives — hopes and dreams are gone…” and “my weary dance of age and resignation moves me slow toward a dark and empty stage where I can sing of all I know”), but that’s balanced by the luxuriant, silky music the words are nestled in.  It’s really pretty stuff and an album that seems intent on giving listeners an oasis to lose themselves in (not that we need anything like that right now…) Opening single “Alone” and “A Fragile Thing” are two of my favorites — give them a spin here:


Last up is the latest from another set of legends, the lords of electro Underworld, back with their tenth full length Strawberry Hotel. It’s their first official album in eight years (2016’s Barbara Barbara, We Face a Shining Future was their last), but it finds the pair more in line with the eclectic hopscotching of 2019’s Drift project, which released a new song every week. That project showed them working with snippets of songs in several ways, changing the mood and impact of the track depending on that version’s particular configuration. It was an insight into their process and showed how iterative they unsurprisingly were, taking a piece of lyrics or melody from a banger and repurposing it into a more plaintive, downtempo tune or vice versa.  It led to a mix of varying quality in terms of songs, but there were ultimately plenty of highlights embedded within once they finally settled on a definitive version of a track. (Many of these were compiled in the single disc Drift Series 1 later that year.)

This feels like a more condensed version of that effort where the pair work on unfinished elements before honing them into a final product, letting the listener sit as an observer in their workshop while they tinker. There’s repeated bits of vocals from “King of Haarlem” and “denver luna” (later appearing in “Oh Thorn!” and an acappella version of the song, respectively), there’s repurposed melodies from previous outings as on “Techno Shinkansen” and the aforementioned “luna” (which pilfer pieces of prior classics “King of Snake” and “Born Slippy,” respectively), there’s even mildly augmented spoken word segments like “Ottavia,” which receives the sparest of sonic accompaniments. Not all of it works, but as on the broader Drift project there are enough out and out winners to call you back — from soaring, full color rainbows like “Hilo Sky” and “Gene Pool” to straightforward bangers like the first single “and the colour red” and its house-centric follow-on “Sweet Lands Experience,” these guys show why they’re still important after 30 years of doing this. The aforementioned “luna” and the throbbing “Burst of Laughter” are two of my faves — check em out here:

That’s it for now — see you next time for the annual look back! Try and stay sane in the meantime, my friends…
–BS

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Surfacing for Air: Coal Miners, Cats, and Elephants

I’ve been off burrowing down rabbit holes the past month and change — diving into Pacific campaign documentaries and foreign resistance films during WWII, binging the between war exploits of the folks in Birmingham, and catching up on other compelling revisionist histories — but today felt like a good time to resurface for my primary obsession, serving the non-existent fanbase here to talk music. We’ll start with one that’s been sitting in my queue to talk about for months now, the Bozeman-based Richy Mitch and the Coal Miners. They’re another of the Spotify spillovers, discovered when one of my playlists ended and the algorithm helpfully suggested another artist/song to keep the thread going (fittingly, the playlist I was listening to at the time was the one for this page — Sunshine Radio, available at all times on the right-hand side of the page) and they immediately grabbed my ear.

Sounding a lot like early Local Natives (before that band devolved into the glossy synth pop terrain I loathe so much) these guys have a great sound and laid back vibe. The trio (originally from Colorado, having had an additional member or two prior to their current three-piece setup it seems) consists of singer/songwriter Mitch Cutts, guitarist Nic Haughn, and drummer Jakob Evans who have  known each other since high school. At that time their goal (according to their website) was to write and record an album before their senior year concluded, which became their self-recorded, self-titled debut, RMCM, released on their graduation day in May 2017.

It’s a fantastic little album, mostly consisting of Cutts at the piano and Haughn on acoustic guitar, giving it an extremely intimate feel — tracks like “Lucerne” and “Porcelain” are lovely little tunes, drawing you into their quiet cocoons with their beautiful melodies and harmonizations, while those like “Evergreen,” “Sweetwater,” and “Iodine” add in some Bon Iver-style flourishes to positive effect. (To say nothing of absolute kneebucklers like “Lake Missoula” and “St.Paul,” which are the best of a really good bunch.) Their second album Solstice came out the following year after the three had split up and gone off to college, recording the album “on breaks and weekends.” It shows no signs of that disjointedness, sonically sounding like a companion to their debut — the hushed introspection of the title track and “Florissant” could easily have originated there and they sit perfectly next to slightly more upbeat offerings like “ACT!” and “Silo.” (And all benefit from their proximity to songs like “Chakra in Basel,” this album’s absolute beauty.)

Their latest was 2019’s Subliming, which the band says took them “over two years of long distance to create and perfect.” It’s their briefest overall, clocking in just a bit beyond a half hour, but it’s another solid outing. I get glimpses of the Cure from the riff on “WET SOCKS” and a hint of Coldplay on “Somersault” to go along with their more traditional sound on songs like “backburner” and “Bins.” (Or this album’s slice of lush perfection, “BC, Victoria.”)

It’s been mostly quiet since then, with a handful of singles finally appearing this past year. Hopefully that’s a sign another album is on the way soon. In the meantime we’ve thankfully got these three to keep us company, which are a lovely triptych to immerse yourself in this weekend. Start at the beginning with my overall fave and its stunning “St.Paul.”

We’ll shift gears to close with a trio of readers, two remembrances of recent anniversaries and the other of a recent passing. We’ll start with the latter, a really nice writeup of Television frontman and transcendant guitarist Tom Verlaine who passed away at the end of January. The article does a good job of highlighting his importance (if for some reason you’ve never been convinced just by listening to the flawless majesty of the title track from their debut Marquee Moon.) I particularly loved the description here — “There was something nearly pitiless in the precision of his fingers… He seemingly trapped notes, agitating and destabilizing them before letting them go.”

It’s a wonderfully apt characterization from a man/band whose music is undeniably worth remembering. Check out another example of that prowess and another of my faves, the pristine shine of “Prove It” here:

Up next comes the recent 20 year anniversary of Cat Power’s You Are Free, an album I used to spend a lot of time with back in the day and still my favorite of hers overall. The article does a good job reminding us both about the uncertainty surrounding the album (it was her fifth of original material and her first in as many years, having contemplated quitting after the surge in popularity generated by 1998’s Moon Pix) and the ongoing struggle she faced during performances. (Like the author, I never saw her during one of the oft-reported meltdowns or back-to-the-audience affairs, but it was abundantly clear she was not one who thrived in the spotlight at the time — something she seems to have managed to surmount in recent years, thankfully.)

At the time I was more drawn to those haunting piano ballads, just Marshall pouring her heart out into the discomfort and darkness, but those songs had solid counterpoints this time with more muscular, slightly angrier tracks like “Free,” “Speak for Me,” and “He War.”  Those got her more radio play and made for a livelier show, but it was (and is) always those ballads that stopped you in your tracks. From the opening “I Don’t Blame You” to tracks like “Fool,” and “Babydoll,” Marshall regularly reminds us of this dynamic from the piece — “[she] digs deep into the depths of human desperation and depravity, but she always makes it sound so beautiful. Marshall’s voice — soft, honeyed, always somewhere flickering in the distance — still casts its spell even when she’s singing in an expensive studio.”

Nothing highlights that better than her flawless cover of Michael Hurley’s “Werewolf,” a track whose brilliance is directly disproportional to the smoldering sensuousness and ferocity she quietly conveys. She more than makes the song her own and it remains a highlight on a really good album. Give it a listen here:

Last of the readers is the writeup of the White Stripes’ masterful monolith, Elephant, which also turned 20 recently. This one represents the brash, unabashed half of our anniversaries, every bit as loud and punishing as Marshall’s was quiet and soothing, and man what an album it is. This was the Stripes’ massive, undeniable swing for the fences and geezus did they nail it. As the article reminds us, it STARTS with “Seven Nation Army” — as clear and unequivocal an opening statement as you’re likely to receive. There’s no slowly slipping into the album, letting the listener adjust to their surroundings before punching them in the face by the third or fourth song. No, this was a both barrels blast to the face from the outset, throwing the listener into a shark-infested wave pool with a suit full of chum. “If you can survive this, you can survive anything…” they seem to be saying, almost daring you to level up as much as they had.  And if you manage to meet them in the stratosphere, it’s a hell of a trip through the heavens.

Besides that monster of an earworm “Army” there are innumerable other headwreckers on display — there’s Jack’s blistering solo in the rollercoaster ride of “Black Math,” the facemelting gospel chorus at the end of “There’s No Home for you Here.” The sex god swagger of “Ball and Biscuit’s” seven minute duration balanced by the breathless, all out sprint of “Hypnotize’s” sub-two minute span. The deranged glee of “Girl, You Have no Faith in Medicine” with its unexpected delight at shouting “acetaminophen” at full volume. There’s nary a bad note to be found (although I, like the author, also tend to skip the closer, the power and perfection of the album having long since been cemented by then.)

The pair would never reach these heights again, leaning into the stranger aspects of their sound on 2005’s Get Behind me Satan before closing out strong on 2007’s Icky Thump, which recaptured some of this one’s thunder before they broke up, just in far smaller doses. (And Jack himself would repeatedly show the true value of Meg on his subsequent solo outings, working with potentially more technically skilled drummers, but never coming close to the primal bashing and emotion generated by his former partner.)

Thankfully we’ve still got things like this to go back to, aptly named monsters that allow us revel in past glories and joy no matter how many times we return to them. As the article notes, “An elephant is a noble beast with a long memory, and maybe that’s how the White Stripes saw themselves — history-minded congregants carrying the flame for dying traditions on a crass and heedless age. But an elephant is also a big motherfucker who will stomp you to death, and that’s what we hear on “Seven Nation Army.” (And the rest of the album, for that matter.)

Crank up that insane choir in the aforementioned “Home” and see if you survive:


We’ll close with one last item, a new song from another old fave, fittingly returning after a long spell in the dark. The band are the legendary Underworld, those UK electroheads who’ve been giving us amazing tunes for well over 30 years now. They’re back with new material, their first since 2019’s very cool Drift project, which found the duo releasing new songs/art/videos every week for the entire year. That was by and large another solid affair, but they’ve been quiet since then, only recently resurfacing for some live shows where they debuted some new tracks. One of those is this one, a front to back banger of old, which is hopefully a sign that more is coming from the pair soon. In the meantime, enjoy “and the colour red” here:


That’s all for now — until next time…
-BS

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…And On — Six More Weeks of Winter

Like Punxsutawney Phil (or the furry groundhog asleep on my lap now in his spastic explorations of the couch each night) I’ve been burrowed deep in my hole since you last saw me, hoping for a reprieve from all the cold and nonsense swirling at the surface.  And while Phil seems to think it’s going to end soon, I’m not as convinced thanks to several spontaneous home repairs, interpersonal spats (fuck you, Socks, I’m still angry), and that never-fallow font of fabulousness, work, recently.  Hopefully that hibernating hero is right, though, and we can find our way into brighter, warmer times soon.  In the meantime, here’s some things that’ve caught my eye since the annual year-end post.

First, we’ll stay in Phil’s realm to catch the latest from the legendary electro outfit bearing its name, Underworld, and the first of two treasure troves from the land of our former masters. This one captures an entire year’s worth of work from the duo and its ambitious Drift project where they aimed to record and release a new song every week last year.  The Raveonettes tried something similar back in 2016, releasing a new song every month (compiled in the mostly ok Atomized), but doing so every week definitely represents a level up difficulty-wise.  And while they may not have hit their initial goal (there’s “only” 40 songs and alternate mixes packaged in the release), what’s impressive is both how close they came and how good the overwhelming majority of the songs are.

Well over half of them are really solid, from the opening “Another Silent Way” and “Dexters Chalk” to later cuts like “Universe of Can When Back,” “Soniamode,” “Appleshine (All of the Lights),” and “STAR.” I’d dipped in and out of this project over the course of the year and kept meaning to write about it, but its inherently ephemeral nature (new shiny object each week!) meant I never spent as much time with the material and the topic always got forgotten in the flurry of the norm.  Now that it’s packaged in one place, though, you’re immediately able to appreciate both the size of the effort and the quality of its results.  The pair have always oozed sensuality — from Rick Smith and/or Darren Emerson’s languid beats and musical influences to Karl Hyde’s voice and colorful, cryptic lyrics — it’s why they are synonymous with the dark, be it of the club, the bedroom, or the car you’re using to drive in between.  They do nothing to change that linkage here, giving us close to six hours’ worth of work to explore here, and it’s definitely worth the effort. (“Mile Bush Wide” can almost bring you to completion in a scant 90 seconds.)

The pair are doing a rare and extremely limited tour of North America this summer, which might be worth a roadtrip to catch a peek of the human versions of Phil.  I was out with forty percent of my readership when this came up last night and they informed me  a broader playlist of the duo’s work would be helpful — primarily because none of them had heard of the duo (they also hadn’t seen Trainspotting, with its classic use of the group, which is a double dagger) — but that’s an injustice I’ll seek to correct in a future post. In the meantime, give a listen to some of the choicer cuts from Drift below and get ready to bliss out.

The other bounty of riches from our friends in the UK comes from the perennially persnickety lads of Radiohead who recently announced the launch of the Radiohead Public Library, which is an amazing compilation of rare tracks, live performances, photos, and merchandise dating all the way back to the band’s formation. Essentially the band has curated the best of everything they’ve done, sifting through the oceans of poor quality copies and nonsense available on the interwebs, and given us high quality versions all in one place here. It’s pretty amazing — there’s full festival shows never publicly available, copies of the beloved “From the Basement” DVDs showing how the band meticulously assembles their songs, shirts and merchandise that hasn’t been available for 15-20 years — all sorted by the album the band had recorded at the time.

There are hours upon hours’ worth of goodness here — I’ve particularly been enjoying the numerous live performances, which aside from full concert sets also include the band’s TV performances, including this Limbs-era one on the Colbert Report I’d forgotten about. (I remember seeing it at the time, but didn’t realize they’d played 3 or 4 unaired songs too.) Similar to their aforementioned countrymen of the underground, it’s a testament to both how much work the band has done over the years, as well as how good it almost all is — so hop in your time machine and start your surfing now!

We’ll stay on the island for one more offering, this one the latest from Gorillaz, Damon Albarn’s hit or miss cartoon collective, which is gearing back into action after a couple of years of quiet.  Similar to Underworld’s Drift, it sounds like the band plans to release a series of “episodes” over the course of the year as part of its Song Machine project, with each episode detailing the fruits of a new collaboration.  First up is Albarn’s pairing with rapper slowthai on the song “Momentary Bliss.” It’s a pretty solid outing — I’ve cooled on these guys a ton since their magic self-titled debut in 2001, but Albarn always stumbles on a couple interesting things on the albums, so credit him for continuing to keep things fresh and mine new terrain.  We’ll see how the rest of the project turns out — in the interim, give this one a spin:

Next we’ll depart the island, but stay within the kingdom, jetting over to check on the latest from Silverbacks, the promising new five-piece from Ireland who’s been putting out some really catchy singles.  I’ve posted about these guys before — up and comers from the island sporting a triple guitar attack and some jittery, catchy riffs.  Still haven’t found much more on them online, still waiting on their debut release, but if they keep releasing singles like this I won’t complain too much.  It’s another winning affair — lead singer Daniel O’Kelly does his best Julian Casablancas impression while name checking another of that era’s giants, LCD Soundsystem, as the propulsive bass riff drives things along.  The band’s on quite a roll — let’s hope they keep it up (either on that much awaited full length or its continued string of singles) in the coming months.

Speaking of triple guitar attacks, we’ll continue our island hopping getaway and fly a little further afield, this time to the outback to check on the latest from the lads in Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever. I’ve written about these guys a bunch, having been a favored find since Shaky Knees and their landing on my year end list in 2018.  They’ve released a string of solid singles in the interim, including this latest one, the oddly named “Cars in Space.” (Shout out to Elon Musk?) It’s another vintage turn — as much as a band this new can have a vintage — full of swirling guitars and melodies that builds to an invigorating crescendo before leaving you thirsty for more, much like the waves of their eponymous coast.  These guys really are an exciting new outfit, so let’s hope they keep the hot streak up for years to come. For now, check out [cue echo] “Caaaaaaaaaars! Iiiiiiiiiin! SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE!” here:

We’ll head back to the mainland and the safety of North America, stopping first with our friends up north to hear the latest from Wolf Parade. It’s their first outing since 2018’s Cry, Cry, Cry and the first since bassist/guitarist Dante DeCaro (of former Hot Hot Heat fame) left the band, closing a run of three excellent albums with the group. (At Mount Zoomer, Expo 86, and the aforementioned Cry.) Left in his wake is the original three-piece and the band sounds little worse for wear on its fifth, Thin Mind (which is no knock on DeCaro and the importance of his previous contributions). Released just last week I’m still delving into the album as a whole, but the first couple singles have been strong, including this latest, “Julia Take Your Man Home.”  Similar to first passes through the album, what stands out is the clarity and muscle of Spencer Krug’s and Dan Boeckner’s guitars.  They’d always been there before, but they feel more prominent here, like abs after you lay off the sweets and start running. It’s a welcome reappearance, writ large and on “Julia,” a catchy little tune that’s all bright and shiny (and filled with shapes that look like dicks) — give it a listen here:

We’ll close with a couple solo outings on our return to the states, the first from Afghan Whigs frontman Greg Dulli, who’s set to release his first solo album next year, Random Desire.  He’s been working on songs the past three years, since the Whigs’ last album, In Spades, in 2017, during which time the band’s guitarist Dave Rosser passed away.  We’ll have to see how much of that shows up in the album’s lyrics, but there’s nothing overt in the first single, “Pantomima.”  It’s a good listen, marrying that sultry swagger Dulli’s known for with some muscular guitar — hopefully the rest of the album matches this one’s fire.  Give it a ride here:

Lastly we’ll visit our old pal Hamilton Leithauser, the former frontman of the beloved Walkmen, who’s back with a new single, “Here They Come.” Ham’s been largely invisible since his last major outing, 2016’s I Had a Dream That You Were Mine, which landed at #6 on that year’s list. (He did a one-off single with Angel Olsen in 2017, but not much else.) There’s nothing concrete yet in terms of release dates or titles, but it sounds like he’s got a new album almost ready, of which this would apparently be the first glimpse.  If so it seems like it’ll be comparable to his previous two albums, with Ham belting out emotional Walkmen-style wallops and balancing those with his Sinatra-inspired crooning, which is just fine with me. Yes, I miss his former band (possibly moreso than any other disbanded unit of recent years), but Ham’s voice remains a singular delight, capable of hitting the stratosphere at a moment’s notice after lancing your heart with similar ease. Same recipe applies here — give it a listen while we wait for more company for it here:

–BS