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ALBUM OF THE ISSUE
EXPERIMENTAL / ELECTRONIC CLAUDE SPEEED My Skeleton (Lucky me) ●●●●● Modern art is too often about cheap thrills and easy pickings. Attention seeking and shocks; drop rather than build. My Skeleton is the debut album from Claude Speeed, an artist who doesn’t give up anything easily, whose album opens up to only the most devout
and patient listeners. Nothing here can be described as immediate, but that makes the cathartic release, or frustrating refusal, of that gushing emotional moment all the more powerful. It opens with ‘Washaa’, a mesmerising dreamscape of intergalactic electronics and swooning strings, washing over you like a warm welcome. From there, Speeed is most preoccupied with ushering you into his musical memory, with the album only picking up (cough) speed on the bizarrely titled ‘Tiger Woods’. There is ostensibly nothing golf-related in this track – instead, an agitated synth line, the closest Speeed comes to a pop melody throughout. It becomes more frenetic as cooing vocals and industrial grit are layered on top, only to fade and die just when it seems it might explode. It’s a perfect example of drawing you in but refusing to give everything up, drawn from a metaphorical bloodline of electronic artists influenced by rock, such as Boards of Canada. Claude Speeed himself comes from a sure footing in Scottish futurist rock – he is a founding member of Russia and American Men – and it is clear that My Skeleton is a very personal escapade. Field recordings from transport make up a lot of the unusual, hard-to-place sounds, creating an almost dystopian melancholy. Speeed ramps up the volume on ‘Prove You Exist’ and the Mogwai-esque ‘Field’ to distort that sadness into an anger – when My Skeleton really takes off. (Tony Inglis)
Records | MUSIC
INDIE ROCK HONEYBLOOD Honeyblood (FatCat) ●●●●● Between the Glasgow music scene, Brighton’s FatCat Records and New York- based producer Pete Katis (he of Interpol and The National repute), a runway to success has effectively been laid. Be it towards a steady rise in commercial returns, international touring and critical acclaim (The Twilight Sad, We Were Promised Jetpacks), or potentially even graduation to a major label and a shot at the heights of the top ten (Frightened Rabbit). The latest band taxiing into position is duo Honeyblood – singer / guitarist Stina Tweeddale and drummer Shona McVicar – though quite what kind of altitude they’ll achieve is difficult to discern from their accomplished but inconsistent debut album. Between Tweeddale’s spry, gutsy singing style – her voice always positioned high and bold in the mix, complemented intuitively by McVicar’s sweet harmonies – and a natural way with a lip-glossy kiss of a garage band indie-rock hook, Honeyblood undoubtedly have assets, even if they’re not always necessarily deployed to the best possible effect. ‘Super Rat’ is based around an overstretched sewer rodent analogy, but features a few fantastically plain-speaking disses to a ‘scumbag, sleaze, slimeball, grease’ of a cheating ex-boyfriend. The chorus of ‘Choker’ is a grungey sucker-punch of a thing, but by rehashing that big, clunky old cliché ‘what doesn’t kill you, just makes you stronger’, it smacks of a dispiriting sense of ‘this will do’ in lyrical terms. ‘Killer Bangs’ is a tremendous, hurtling, melodic scuzz-bomb in the Breeders style. Exquisitely textured break-up song ‘Bud’,
meanwhile – released as a single last year – marks Honeyblood as a kind of Scottish Best Coast, and remains their best song yet, though it isn’t clear quite why the perfectly good original version that we’d already grown so familiar with was deemed unfit for purpose, and a new same-but- slightly-different mix used here. It’s a typically niggling little frustration about this record – a successful take-off for Honeyblood, make no mistake about it, just not necessarily as smooth as it could have been. (Malcolm Jack)
FOLK POP KING CREOSOTE From Scotland with Love (Domino) ●●●●● ELECTRONIC / AMBIENT TO ROCOCO ROT Instrument (City Slang) ●●●●●
Do you remember a Scotland where the beaches were packed during the ‘Glasgow fortnight’, where people jostled for space in Saturday-night dancehalls while attempting a demure courting ritual, and where striking workers with massive banners were pushed about on the streets by enthusiastic (pre-kettling era) policemen? King Creosote, aka Kenny Anderson, does, or at least he recalls it all through the auspices of the From Scotland with Love documentary, screened on the BBC in June and re-appearing as part of the cultural happenings revolving around the Commonwealth Games. The film, put together by Virginia Heath, is an un-narrated compilation of archive footage of this nation across the 20th century for which KC has supplied the soundtrack. Through this set of 11 evocative and tender songs (infiltrated by a couple of rousing foot-tappers), Anderson steers clear of any sweeping ideological statements about nationhood, the rise of consumerism and the death of community. Instead, he focuses on speculative scenarios about individuals, friends and families. These are stories where parents seek to cultivate better lives for their progeny amid the ‘clarty surrounds’ of ‘Pauper’s Dough’, of kids kicking up sand at ‘Largs’, and where Wayne circles the dancefloor for ‘One Night Only’. Clarinets, squeezeboxes and what sounds a little like a grandfather clock running out of puff merely add to the nostalgic charm. But be assured, this is no sentimental journey, with Anderson testifying to a fascination for finding
They’re less a band, more a three-piece art unit, and To Rococo Rot’s continuing exploration of a territory that borders electronic, ambient and post-rock has been one of the richest and most compelling threads of the last 15 years in music. Since the release of The Amateur View on City Slang in 1999 – a label they return to for this release – the Berlin-based group have been quietly redefining the possibilities of how the synth- and laptop-derived electronics of minimal techno can interact with bass and a drumkit. It’s been four years since Speculation, and fertile side projects from all members in the interim have included collaborations with Hans-Joachim Roedelius (of Cluster and Harmonia) in Roedelius Schneider, Cloudland with heavyweight Italian contemporary composer / pianist Ludovico Einaudi, Pianotapes with Bill Wells, plus their ongoing Tarwater, Mapstation and Robert Lippock solo guises. As ever, the fluid and distinctive bass playing style of Stefan Schneider continues to root a lot of their sound on Instrument. Likewise, where lone producers, or bands, might take the abstract pulsing electronics that underpin ‘Besides Down in The Traffic’ and ‘Pro Model’ down a multi-layered crescendo route, the jazz-tinged drumming of Ronald Lippock always results in something with compulsive driving momentum that retains a restrained, loose funkiness. One new thing here is vocals – and it’s those of New York no wave figurehead Arto Lindsay, whose soft voice features on several tracks,
the dark edges in both people and places. The collection works like a
dream alongside the film, but it’s a potent gem when heard all on its own. This is Anderson’s first album since Diamond Mine, his Mercury-nominated collaboration with Jon Hopkins. At the very least, some lobbying for From Scotland with Love scooping next year’s SAY Award should start right now. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Read more about the Commonwealth Games’ music highlights on page 29.
as does his primitive abrasive guitar – every bit the electric descendant of Derek Bailey – on textural ‘Longest Elevator in the World’ and more. Elsewhere, primitively recorded pianos add to the casual atmosphere. Despite any additions and innovations brought to the table, Instrument is unmistakably the sound of To Rococo Rot. In their own modest way, they’ve been sounding like an exciting and optimistic version of the future for a long time – and they still do. (Hamish Brown) 10 Jul–21 Aug 2014 THE LIST 87