The songs of Ray Raposa mean so much more when you hear them too loud in a small lounge filled with dope smokers and summer innuendo.
On disc it's all often too dense, too much to comprehend beyond that voice and some instruments trying to reach you. Alone, with no drums, no harmonica Raposa becomes more emotionally credible.
The other night at a suburban cafe he played some of his songs and it doesn't particularly matter which ones I heard. He writes like Johnny Cash, only some things interest him - Raposa isn't a man of cars or politics. He'd much prefer to talk of ache and occurrence.
Listen to On Beginning for both.
"Dreams of something unending ... be straight with me, I'll be straight, straight with you."
His voice rolls over the gentlest of electronic swirls and a guitar so purposely gothic it could want you to know nothing else.
It matters that he shares his all-over sun burn after arriving in Australia a week before, it matters that he asks someone, anyone if they happen to have a guitar strap in their pocket. And then he plays without one, and without shoes.
The whole too loud thing is completely necessary. Each syllable of the very good lyrics pierce, each rough riding riff becomes a sort of wild horse coming onward, not something you want to dodge or control - a moment to just be attacked and stampeded by the unexpected noises.
Castanets is a request taking vendor but offers only "you motherfucker" in response to the one coming from the back, seems it's too difficult with only a guitar and four pedals to choose from.
A little before this a little band from Maine made me smile. Tiger Saw are quietly extraordinary. 100 plus members in a decade have said hello and goodbye. A book and a long discography come from it. If you can do more than nominate who exactly was playing the other night please let me know.
The songs at the moment are gentle, joyous and anthemic. Moments of singalong, times of almost silence and little crescendos.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
A 2009 Longlist
Here is some albums to consider for a list of the finest in 2009.
WILCO - Wilco
YEAH YEAH YEAHS - Its Blitz
THE ANTLERS - Hospice
PARALLEL LIONS - Holding Patterns
THE MOUNTAIN GOATS - The Life of the World to Come
MUSE - The Resistance
MEWITHOUTYOU - It's all crazy! It's all false! It's all a dream! It's alright!
ENTER SHIKARI - Common Dreads
ANTONY AND THE JOHNSONS - The Crying Light
CASTANETS - Texas Rose, The Thaw and The Beasts
AND YOU WILL KNOW US BY THE TRAIL OF DEAD - Century of Self
SUFJAN STEVENS - BQE
THRICE - Beggars
THEM CROOKED VULTURES - Them Crooked Vultures
BENJAMIN GIBBARD AND JAY FARRAR - One Fast Move Or I'm Gone
THE DECEMBERISTS - The Hazards of Love
WILCO - Wilco
YEAH YEAH YEAHS - Its Blitz
THE ANTLERS - Hospice
PARALLEL LIONS - Holding Patterns
THE MOUNTAIN GOATS - The Life of the World to Come
MUSE - The Resistance
MEWITHOUTYOU - It's all crazy! It's all false! It's all a dream! It's alright!
ENTER SHIKARI - Common Dreads
ANTONY AND THE JOHNSONS - The Crying Light
CASTANETS - Texas Rose, The Thaw and The Beasts
AND YOU WILL KNOW US BY THE TRAIL OF DEAD - Century of Self
SUFJAN STEVENS - BQE
THRICE - Beggars
THEM CROOKED VULTURES - Them Crooked Vultures
BENJAMIN GIBBARD AND JAY FARRAR - One Fast Move Or I'm Gone
THE DECEMBERISTS - The Hazards of Love
Saturday, December 12, 2009
It's understandable, they come from Adelaide
Coerce: a raw punk quartet from the South Australian capital, Adelaide.
Press release says something about Refused and At the Drive-In, should also mention lots about The Nation Blue but widely assumed critics no nothing so we won't mention colleagues.
Trance, Viper, Dance provides a roughshod introduction and yeah, you can hear yourself a whole bunch of ATDI, Cedric style screaming, some gang vocals and a rhythm section a little too in lock step.
The dude who sings (information is hard to come by) shreds successfully but it's the bands guitarist that makes this debut interesting. There are different tones from song-to-song and there's a willingness to adventure into more than just black and white. Different shades permeate songs like the dark title track, Silver Tongued Life Licker.
The 45 odd minutes here is best described as a ride on The Ghost Train at Luna Park followed by four and three quarter pots at the Espy. It's fun, rowdy, sometimes edging towards chaos and mostly good times.
Press release says something about Refused and At the Drive-In, should also mention lots about The Nation Blue but widely assumed critics no nothing so we won't mention colleagues.
Trance, Viper, Dance provides a roughshod introduction and yeah, you can hear yourself a whole bunch of ATDI, Cedric style screaming, some gang vocals and a rhythm section a little too in lock step.
The dude who sings (information is hard to come by) shreds successfully but it's the bands guitarist that makes this debut interesting. There are different tones from song-to-song and there's a willingness to adventure into more than just black and white. Different shades permeate songs like the dark title track, Silver Tongued Life Licker.
The 45 odd minutes here is best described as a ride on The Ghost Train at Luna Park followed by four and three quarter pots at the Espy. It's fun, rowdy, sometimes edging towards chaos and mostly good times.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Memories
I got to listening to favourite, old, music tonight.
I will always waste endless hours defending The Juliana Theory from all allegations of boy bandishness, egotism and all other criticism of a mighty band.
I had to reorder a copy of Understand This is a Dream, 10 years after its release, and when I unwrapped it the first song I clicked to was the euphoric Duane Joseph with it's demand to "tell your mum you need the day off". It's naive, it's cynical, heart breaking and ultimately this was the best definition of emo in the late 90s.
And onward I pushed through the, what seems now, mushy and very Chris Carrabba sounding August in Bethany. A teenage tune of the finest angst which astute readers will notice is inspiration for more than this sentence. Right now, living on death row, it is beautiful. Singer Brett Detar's oh's and woo's become resplendent in the lightly strummed minor chords and when he pines "don't go" I begin to cry. I don't want to go. I'm quite happy just here, in my study at my grandfather's desk, headphones on, wife upstairs, books neatly stacked to my right, blinds down to keep the cold out.
Now onwards to the silly pop-punk of Musicbox Superhero. It's classic genre blending with Sunny Day Real Estate and Green Day heard in equal measure and, of course, Detar wading his way to the front. That point leads to the man and his ego. Sure he has one, seemingly larger than most in a similar position. But the problem was he knew how good he was and was mainly wondering why TJT never quite "made it". It finishes quietly, a moment of note for those critiquing the tracklisting.
That finish matters because of what comes next. Show me the Money hints at what is to come in the opening percussion missive before saddling up for a joyous major chord gallop through the meadows. It's a stupid song bordering on senseless but it doesn't hurt an album that only runs to 42 and a bit minutes.
For Evangeline positioned the band beyond pop-punk. Underplayed and under appreciated, it was a gorgeous, melodious portrait that worked as more than a mere introduction to Constellation. It wonders like someone gazing at shoes as it fades in until Neil Hebrank punches through and out. "The deepest embraces creation" mumbles Detar as Hebrank rumbles behind him, the others seem to be there but only in soul. The guitar feels as if it is strummed by a man worried of his fate, it repeats and repeats as if there were merit in it. "In one night you made me your own, in one hour you gave me away". It introduces the second act, Fiedler and Momper awake and back Detar into a corner he has to fight to come out of. And fight he does.
And now they tell us of plans to formalise the farewell. Two last gigs for those who weren't on the Autobahn in Germany when this beauty collapsed. They will play Emotion is Dead from start to finish, then some. It's 51 minutes, the gig will be 101 minutes fired by adrenaline and tears.
Seven Forty Seven might be the weak spot, if such a thing exists more than a decade on from trying to understand the dream. "Won't you come and take a holiday with me, I've asked you twice before.
"Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.
"Won't you come with me, there's things to see."
If it's a weak spot it's not in the lyrics and by the crescendo at two minutes and 17 seconds any signs of flimsy work are forgotten.
"You're the bud before the flower unfurls into full bloom." It all rests on that word unfurl, a transitive verb of astronomical power. The Closest Thing is Detar coming on strong but I've always read it spiritually, "your star, it seems to shine above the rest ... the closest thing to perfect in a Hollywood suburb". I didn't understand that he could be talking about anything but God, anything but an almighty. It's worth taking note of Chad Alan's understated ways here. He bubbles to the fore when he needs to, falls behind for the most but no so far he is distant. And go back to the start: "the deepest embraces creation. If you were rude and shallow of reading you might declare it some sort of anti-abortion anthem. With its talk of being given away to The Angels and the hands you'll never hold. It is so very much more. It ends with those rarest of things, a justified fade out.
PS We'll Call you When we Get There is perhaps oddly placed unless you listen to the lyrics. It's an up-tempo pop-punk song that might just have well opened the album but it would have been ridiculous to have a song that uses that wonderful hardcore "gang vocal" to say we will "go".
Now for the pointer of things to come.
Constellation is the finale even if the newly issued vinyl gives us one more song not heard before. Looking at the time, well over six minutes, it stands out before the reversing cascade that is the intro.
I will always waste endless hours defending The Juliana Theory from all allegations of boy bandishness, egotism and all other criticism of a mighty band.
I had to reorder a copy of Understand This is a Dream, 10 years after its release, and when I unwrapped it the first song I clicked to was the euphoric Duane Joseph with it's demand to "tell your mum you need the day off". It's naive, it's cynical, heart breaking and ultimately this was the best definition of emo in the late 90s.
And onward I pushed through the, what seems now, mushy and very Chris Carrabba sounding August in Bethany. A teenage tune of the finest angst which astute readers will notice is inspiration for more than this sentence. Right now, living on death row, it is beautiful. Singer Brett Detar's oh's and woo's become resplendent in the lightly strummed minor chords and when he pines "don't go" I begin to cry. I don't want to go. I'm quite happy just here, in my study at my grandfather's desk, headphones on, wife upstairs, books neatly stacked to my right, blinds down to keep the cold out.
Now onwards to the silly pop-punk of Musicbox Superhero. It's classic genre blending with Sunny Day Real Estate and Green Day heard in equal measure and, of course, Detar wading his way to the front. That point leads to the man and his ego. Sure he has one, seemingly larger than most in a similar position. But the problem was he knew how good he was and was mainly wondering why TJT never quite "made it". It finishes quietly, a moment of note for those critiquing the tracklisting.
That finish matters because of what comes next. Show me the Money hints at what is to come in the opening percussion missive before saddling up for a joyous major chord gallop through the meadows. It's a stupid song bordering on senseless but it doesn't hurt an album that only runs to 42 and a bit minutes.
For Evangeline positioned the band beyond pop-punk. Underplayed and under appreciated, it was a gorgeous, melodious portrait that worked as more than a mere introduction to Constellation. It wonders like someone gazing at shoes as it fades in until Neil Hebrank punches through and out. "The deepest embraces creation" mumbles Detar as Hebrank rumbles behind him, the others seem to be there but only in soul. The guitar feels as if it is strummed by a man worried of his fate, it repeats and repeats as if there were merit in it. "In one night you made me your own, in one hour you gave me away". It introduces the second act, Fiedler and Momper awake and back Detar into a corner he has to fight to come out of. And fight he does.
And now they tell us of plans to formalise the farewell. Two last gigs for those who weren't on the Autobahn in Germany when this beauty collapsed. They will play Emotion is Dead from start to finish, then some. It's 51 minutes, the gig will be 101 minutes fired by adrenaline and tears.
Seven Forty Seven might be the weak spot, if such a thing exists more than a decade on from trying to understand the dream. "Won't you come and take a holiday with me, I've asked you twice before.
"Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.
"Won't you come with me, there's things to see."
If it's a weak spot it's not in the lyrics and by the crescendo at two minutes and 17 seconds any signs of flimsy work are forgotten.
"You're the bud before the flower unfurls into full bloom." It all rests on that word unfurl, a transitive verb of astronomical power. The Closest Thing is Detar coming on strong but I've always read it spiritually, "your star, it seems to shine above the rest ... the closest thing to perfect in a Hollywood suburb". I didn't understand that he could be talking about anything but God, anything but an almighty. It's worth taking note of Chad Alan's understated ways here. He bubbles to the fore when he needs to, falls behind for the most but no so far he is distant. And go back to the start: "the deepest embraces creation. If you were rude and shallow of reading you might declare it some sort of anti-abortion anthem. With its talk of being given away to The Angels and the hands you'll never hold. It is so very much more. It ends with those rarest of things, a justified fade out.
PS We'll Call you When we Get There is perhaps oddly placed unless you listen to the lyrics. It's an up-tempo pop-punk song that might just have well opened the album but it would have been ridiculous to have a song that uses that wonderful hardcore "gang vocal" to say we will "go".
Now for the pointer of things to come.
Constellation is the finale even if the newly issued vinyl gives us one more song not heard before. Looking at the time, well over six minutes, it stands out before the reversing cascade that is the intro.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Cancer
Apologies for the no show for months.
I have been diagnosed with cancer. It appears it is in both my brain and my spine.
I have struggled to listen to music lately although the new Decoder Ring album had me excited, just a little. I really want to listen to Emotion is Dead but I can't find it in my collection.
I hope you're travelling well.
I have been diagnosed with cancer. It appears it is in both my brain and my spine.
I have struggled to listen to music lately although the new Decoder Ring album had me excited, just a little. I really want to listen to Emotion is Dead but I can't find it in my collection.
I hope you're travelling well.
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