There is an operatic, majestic beauty about Bjork's Homogenic. I've never heard it described as her finest work and people tend to label it 'heavy-going' as though its intensity were to its detriment.
Of course; the voice is the star. It's taken me so long to get into Bjork, to make that leap into being a fan and exploring the entire back catalogue, but now I'm here, currently at Homogenic, I can't believe I ever lived without her. The bits of accordion or slinky bass that seem to appear from nowhere are the little touches that make it brilliant.
Just finished the Myles Power record with Sam and Sam and you can download it all for free. It's a bit hit and miss but we're all quite proud of it, all said. Acoustic gigs soon will be nice. We've ripped off all manner of our favourite artists.
There are records that seem to arrive in your life at just the right moment to become favourites.
The Reminder by Feist finds its way to me amid the end of an eighteen-month relationship. It is tinged with the chaos of heartbreak. There are shades of regret and naivete ("We don't have to say goodbye / We could just hold each other tight") that look childish on paper but are sung with such conviction that they can render you speechless. There are lusty pianos, otherwordly chanting; tiny, inexplicable touches that you can't quite identify but if taken away you'd notice. There is blind hope on lead single 1234 ("Oh teenage hopes rise and fall"), and sultry crooning about the guilty pleasures on Brandy Alexander. Of course, affairs of the heart are nothing new in pop, but Leslie Feist's voice is such a fragile yet arresting thing that "pushing the envelope" doesn't seem to matter.
A few years ago, I'd have wallowed in a situation like this. I'd have listened to something childish like Muse and thoroughly enjoyed being a miserable git for a long time. But The Reminder does, for me, exactly what it says on the tin. It reminds you of those isolated moments of beauty that will stay with you forever, shaping who you are and ultimately, lifting you up again.
"So, like... what're you listening to at the moment?"
"Oh, god... Loads of stuff. Uh, LCD Soundsystem's new record; that's AMAZING. A Canadian band called Stars... What else? Um. Finally got into The Arcade Fire. Yeah. Wilco's new record is really pretty. Duels' second album demos. Feist. Discovering Bjork as well... R.e.m. actually. Early R.e.m. ... the really sort of post punk, college rock stuff that they did with IRS."
"R.e.m.? Uh, they're just like an American U2 though; really bloated and stadiumy."
"Oh yeah, yeah. I only listen to their early stuff. Anyway, I'm not a massive fan; they did some good tunes back in the day... So... uh... back to Carlos D's moustache..."
Being an R.e.m. fan in 2007 is not easy. Being an eighteen-year old R.e.m. fan in 2007 is impossible. To have spent the past few years trying to discover more obscure and, yes, vaguely hipster-esque bands to namedrop in these sorts of conversations, having R.e.m. as easily your most listened-to band is a serious drawback.
It's bizarre for a band who, certainly in the early days, oozed a kind of cool mysticism to be so thoroughly embarassing in the 21st century. You almost feel as though people regard them with the Rolling Stones or the Who as dinosaurs who refuse to die out, knocking out the hits for balding Mondeo drivers.
On a musical level though, right up until Around the Sun, R.e.m. had failed to make a truly bad record. In fact, you'd struggle to find a hipster who doesn't have Automatic for the People somewhere in the house. Sure, they've mellowed out as you'd expect after twenty years, but it seems bizarre that a band like Oasis, who've essentially made the same record seven times are given legendary, godlike status in some circles, while R.e.m. , with a back catalogue as diverse and engaging as theirs are consigned, in most peoples minds, to an early nineties flash-in-the-pan.
I almost feel guilty every time I play down my love for R.e.m. In particular, the way I dismiss the post-Berry era seems like a betrayal. A quick look at my last.fm page reveals that, startlingly, Reveal, Up and Around The Sun are by far and away the albums I listen to most. Up and Reveal in particular, give me this sedate, fuzzy glow that no other records manage. My love-hate relationship with Around The Sun also deserves more than a flippant "Their last album was really crap".
Saying that R.e.m. have lost their way doesn't bother me; failing to admit that that's actually what draws me to their later work certainly does.
Ah, Skegness. The sun. The sand. The surf. What a place to escape all three of those things.
The UK's premier beach resort seems an unlikely host for Quebec's finest orchestral art rockers, but alas, check out this article about The Arcade Fire in Skegness!
