Archive for the ‘World Music’ Category

‘The Great Curve’ - Talking Heads, 1980

Friday, October 31st, 2008

I always liked ‘Psycho Killer’ and ‘Once In A Lifetime’, probably Talking Head’s signature tunes. Being into Bowie, and especially his “Berlin trilogy”, I was bound to check out Brian Eno. While I can take or leave Eno, his production touches on Talking Heads’ Remain In Light album is something else. I was going to write about the album opener, ‘Born Under Punches’, but my brother recently got me into ‘The Great Curve’, which is even more danceable.

Remain In Light has been called a “white funk” or a “minimalist funk” album, and a lot of it was very out of step with what the new wave and post-punk groups were doing in 1980. Wikipedia refers to “funky African polyrhythms”, which to me is an extremely pretentious way of describing it. Either way, it’s a very dance-friendly album, but in a very arty, self-conscious way.

This affected, ironic knowingness is abetted by David Byrne’s lyrics, which throughout the album conjure up images of distance, ill communication, powerlessness in the face of grand schemes, systems out of sync…in short, a world that isn’t working quite right, with ghosts in the machine.

‘The Great Curve’ is a great example of Byrne’s worldview circa 1980:

“The world is here but it’s out of reach
Some people touch it…but they can’t hold on”

Behind lyrics that describe one woman’s effect on this esoteric world - the gyration of her hips causes it to spin on its orbit - is some of the best late-70s/early-80s music you’ll ever hear. With lots of “mickey guitar” (def: very low-slung, with chords played at the higher end of the register, in a very funky way), a propelling tribal drumbeat, and lots of shouting and harmonising.

Yes, another one of those tracks that are better heard than read about. Here’s the studio verion on YouTube and here’s a blistering live version from 1980, also on YouTube. If you like it, check out the Remain In Light album - a really good listen.

‘Ne Me Quitte Pas’ - Jacques Brel, 1959

Friday, September 19th, 2008

While I know that Brel influenced almost everyone with his crooning voice, literate lyrics, passionate delivery and sombre tone, there’s very little I know about the man or his music - with the exception of ‘Ne Me Quitte Pas’. He has been a big influence on such diverse artists as Bowie, Beirut, Sinatra, Dresden Dolls and Nina Simone, all of whom have recorded interpretations of his compositions.

Born in Belgium (and frequently featured in the pub quiz staple “Name five famous Belgians” - I can only think of him and three footballers), Brel’s adopted home was France. Sharing the language with his adopted home (though he was of Flemish descent), Brel swiftly became an icon for his angry, passionate, mournful songs of love and regret.

‘Ne Me Quitte Pas’ (’Don’t Leave Me’), probably his most famous song, has been described by Brel as “a song about the cowardice of man”, and is almost certainly autobiographical. The song uses mournful violin, a minimal piano figure reminiscent of Satie, and Brel’s plaintive, fearful voice. He uses lyrics that, in other hands (or voices) would be cliched, but from Brel they seem totally sincere (English translation in brackets):

“Je f’rai un domaine (I will give you a kingdom)
Ou l’amour s ‘ra roi (where LOVE will be king)
Ou l’amour s’ ra loi (Where LOVE will be the law)”

The lyrics are profound and deep, especially in the last verse (a fairly good translation of which can be found here). My French is terrible, even though it’s mandatory subject for students in Ireland, but even his delivery of the verse is searing.

With his realisation that love is lost, his tone becomes despondent and, by the end of the song, he repeats “Ne me quitte pas” almost as mantra, probably to a just-closed door. In the late ’50s, when it was all ‘Tutti Frutti’ and that, this is a frighteningly raw and mature piece from a singer old beyond his years. Here is the video for ‘Ne Me Quitte Pas’. I love Brel’s delivery in this video - he doesn’t stop looking straight at the camera.

‘American Wedding’ - Gogol Bordello, 2007

Wednesday, August 20th, 2008

Gogol Bordello is another recommendation from my sister, this ‘Gypsy-punk’ group based on the Lower East Side of New York. I’ve been to a few weddings lately, so this strikes a bit of a chord. Never been to an American wedding, but it sounds like a tame affair compared to some of the receptions I’ve attended in the past few weeks.

Our protagonist finds himself at a bland, asinine wedding somewhere in the US. Instead of the “supply that’s gonna last three days” and the “band that lights on fire”, it’s people leaving early, tame music, too much wedding cake and people “staring at the floor”.

The chorus is a wordless “Daaaa-da-da-de-da-da-da”, sounding a little bit like Joe Strummer trying to drown out the sound of someone he doesn’t want to listen to. Gogol Bordello are The Clash meets The Pogues, with a little sped-up Beirut thrown in. Fiddles and accordion do battle with the guitar, bass and drums to muster up a heavy concoction that’s as intoxicating as the vodka he’s craving.

Here’s the video to ‘American Wedding’. It captures the feeling of the song perfectly, and makes me want to go to a Russian wedding, though I’d have to pass on the marinated herring. Splurgh!

‘King Tubby Meets…’ - Augustus Pablo, 1975

Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008

The full title is ‘King Tubby Meets The Rockers Uptown’ (I think), and it’s probably the pinnacle of ‘dub’, which evolved out of reggae in the ’60’s and early ’70’s. Basically, dub messes about with the vocals of a song, sometimes leaving in just snatches of words, and pushes bass to the front. Often, sound effects are thrown into the mix.

There’s no better example of this than ‘King Tubby Meets…’. Taken from the album of the same name, this song helped to bring dub reggae to the mainstream. The last time I was in London, I visited Brixton, and heard this song played in the stalls on no less than three occasions.

The drums are scattery, as if they’re trying to settle into the song. The guitars clang on the off-beat, with heavy echo. Pablo’s use of the melodica (probably the first use of this obscure instrument in popular music) is phased in and out. It all combines to give a really smoky, improvised feeling to proceedings. The only words in the song are “Baby, I…”, “I love you so” and “and I…”. These half-phrases are scattered throughout the song, as if someone messed up the vocal tape.

This is the kind of song that could be on constant rotation in an Amsterdam (cough) cafe (/cough) and you’d get no complaints. But you definitely don’t need to consume any of Jamaica’s finest to appreciate the chilled-out vibe of this classic.

‘Chega de Saudade’ - João Gilberto,1958

Friday, July 18th, 2008

Doing something different today as its a special day - Dave,the other blogger on this site, celebrates his birthday today. I’m not going to divulge his age, let’s just say he’s still a stunted adolesent. So in honour of this occasion and the fact that he’s currently travelling in South America, I’ve decided to dedicate a song to him. Taken from the godfather of Bossa Nova ( a newer form of Samba) Jao Gilberto, this song was origionally recorded in 1958 and considered the first song from that style. A song that was created by another famous musician from Brazil Antonio Carlos Jobim but made famous by Gilberto.

Dave is due to be in Brazil sometime this week, well after he’s finished eating steak, drinking wine and terrorising girls in Buenos Aires that is so I think its appropiate. You can find a video of the song here so enjoy !

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAVE

‘The Foggy Dew’ - The Chieftans with Sinead O’Connor, 1995

Wednesday, July 16th, 2008

The Foggy Dew is an old Irish folk song which I think was written by the same guy that wrote the Irish National Anthem and thats not Phil Coulter. Taken from the album ‘The Long Black Veil ‘ by long running and popular traditional Irish folk band The Chieftans, an album that also featured some great contributing artists such as Van Morrison, Ry Cooder and Mick Jagger.

Like nearly all traditional Irish folk songs, this song has been covered by many artists from Ireland including the likes of Shane McGowan and The Dubliners. The song itself is about the Easter Rising of 1916 in Ireland and a call to arms for Irishmen instead of going to World War 1 as referenced in this verse.

Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war
‘Twas better to die ‘neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sud-El-Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia’s Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dew

Anyhow I don’t want to get bogged down on the context of the song as its not the reason I like it. The reason I like is more for the vocal performance of Sinead O’Connor and the haunting music provided by the Chieftans which includes the tin whistle, Bodhran, Irish Harp along with other instruments. To me it represents how traditional Irish music has evolved down through the years to its current incarnation. Anyway check out the youtube version here and let me know whether you agree or not.

‘Tango Por Una Cabeza’ - Gardel, 1935

Friday, July 11th, 2008

I’m heading to South America for a long holiday soon, and I’m trying to write posts to schedule for the five weeks I’ll be gone. I can’t wait to head off, so ‘Tango Por Una Cabeza‘ seems the right song to write about in the present circumstances.

Famously used in the Pacino tango scene of Scent of a Woman, as well as Schindler’s List, Delicatessen and, on the far end of the quality scale, Schwarzenegger’s True Lies, this is a great little piece. ‘Por Una Cabeza’ is Spanish for “by the head of a horse”, and in its lyrical form deals with a chronic gambler who compares his addiction to his problems with the ladies. I’ve never heard any lyrics to this song, just the instrumental piece.

And what a piece it is. Like all the great tangos, it builds and drops, with several climactic rushes. The tango is designed to express machismo and sexual desire, and so the lulls in the music show sensitivity contrasting with the aggressive impulse of the charge.

This is one of my favourite pieces of music, and gets regular play on my iPod. Here’s the scene from Scent of a Woman where the blind Pacino dances the tango in great style. Enjoy!

‘Gulag Orkestar’ - Beirut, 2006

Monday, June 2nd, 2008

Beirut are Zach Condon’s ‘band’. He’s only 22 years old, but he’s got a really mature voice, and his songs have a very European feel, considering he’s from New Mexico. They’ve got two albums, and this song is from the Gulag Orkestar album. To be honest, it’s a toss-up between posting about this song or ‘Nantes’, a stunning song from last year’s Flying Club Cup.

I chose ‘Gulag Orkestar’ for humour reasons. My younger brother and sister got me into Beirut, as they have done with a lot of newish indie music. My brother reckons that the video for this song should be a long column of refugees in 1920’s Soviet Russia, being herded from some oblast to another by laughing, galloping Cossacks. This kind of thing.

Anyway, it’s a really good piece of music - think an orchestra in a Soviet gulag and you’re on the right track. Very mournful, lots of cheerless trombone, a shuffling military march, and Condon’s voice wailing banshee-like over the top. Here’s a video of some scenery with the song in the background. Here’s a really nice live version of the song.

‘Mushroom’ - Can, 1971

Friday, May 23rd, 2008

This is the song that got me into Can [Wikipedia link], a very influential ‘krautrock‘ band. The drumbeat is so shuffly and slinky, and Damo Suzuki’s vocals give it a real otherworldly feel. My impression is that the song is about about a nuclear attack - “mushroom head” kind of gives it away. ‘Course, it could be about a guy who likes the ’shrooms. Either way, you’ve got to give Suzuki credit for his oblique lyrics.The explosion that starts the next song on Tago Mago (the equally brilliant ‘Oh Yeah’) leads me to believe it’s the former explanation.

Can are a hard band to get into, I’m finding. While I like the Tago Mago album, there are a couple of 15-minute-plus songs that are quite laborious. Nonetheless, the album is considered a classic, as is the Ege Bamyasi and Future Days (the last with Suzuki as lead singer) albums.

So, 15-minute-plus songs, ponderous concepts, incomprehensible album titles? Yep, it’s definitely on the pretentious side. Anyway, here’s the mandatory Youtube link. Enjoy!