“Maybe I needed to grow up a little first/ Well it looks like I hit a growth spurt”. So goes MMLP2’s opening track and over the course of the next hour it becomes apparent this is no idle brag. The album’s dizzying mix of melody, syllables-per-minute, heart and hurt means, despite the endless plaudits being given to rival "deadly fucking serious” Kanye West, it was really the nutcase from Detroit who demonstrated the greater artistic maturity in 2013.
Some may consider the term “mature” ironic given Marshall Mathers' love of adolescent word play. But that would be to misunderstand how Em’s mischievous and raw rhymes work their magic. On this, the sequel to 2000’s The Marshall Mathers LP, three aspects of his trade stand out. The first is the vocal work. Despite sounding deeper and more growly he is still able to spit out such quick-fire verbiage it leaves the listener giddy with delight. The most exhilarating moments are “Rap God” where one imagines Mathers to be breathing through his ears and 3.46 minutes into "Love Game" where he suddenly slips up half an octave to send a shiver down your spine.
Secondly, there are the expertly picked samples and collaborations which help capture the iconic pop-rap magic of early hits such as “My Name Is” and “Stan”. “Monster” with Rhianna fully deserved its number one slot and the hillbilly guitar-assisted “So Far” knocks most rap-metal into a cocked hat.
www.theartsdesk.com
February 15, 2014
Sin�ad O'Connor, Royal Festival Hall | New music reviews, news & interviews | The Arts Desk
The words “breathe, breathe, pray, breathe” were written in 10-inch letters at her feet. She wore sunglasses to help with her shyness. But if O’Connor was struggling with the pressure of being up on stage it didn’t show in her performance. Off-stage she may continue to suffer with her emotional well-being, but, on stage, she’s on the form of her life. Last night, her dense, swirling thoughts were projected through a combination of intensity, humour and vulnerability. It made for a superb evening.
O'Connor arrived on stage in combat trousers, a green army top and bobble hat. The tattoos on her arms, along with the sunglasses already mentioned gave her a kind of Big Issue chic. Yet, for all her eccentricity, Sinéad looked remarkably healthy. Her first words were about being a surprisingly nervous individual, for someone with such a “big fucking mouth”. They were echoed by the lyrics of the first song she performed, which spoke of “never having much self-confidence anyway”. Thereafter, though, she seemed nothing if not relaxed.
For some the most memorable moments seemed to be where Sinéad stood alone with her plainly-strummed guitar Throughout, O'Connor held the strikingly-diverse crowd rapt with her powerful sense of conviction and that instantly-recognizable voice. People speak of its cathartic quality but last night wasn’t just about being anguished or haunted. “4th and Vine”was jaunty and celebratory; “The Wolf is Getting Married” was straight pop; and “The Emperor’s New Clothes” got the front rows up dancing (interestingly with the middle-aged men standing up first).
CD: Susan Boyle - Home for Christmas | New music reviews, news & interviews | The Arts Desk
Few were surprised this week, when Susan Boyle revealed she had been diagnosed with Asperger’s. Some used this knowledge as an opportunity to have another go at Simon Cowell's and his role in putting her in the spotlight. But the brittleness so apparent in Boyle’s inter-personal interactions also reflects the problems many perceive in her style of music. For instance why, instead of making you feel fuzzy and warm, Home for Christmas simply leaves you feeling a little uncomfortable.
Christmas songs should make you want to invite the artist over for the holidays. That's true of Mariah Carey, Noddy Holder, even Bob Dylan. Home for Christmas, however, is the musical version of an awkward guest at a party. Of course it is perfectly competent. But competent is hardly Christmassy. In fact, Home for Christmas would have been a lot more festive if it were drunken and shambolic. And splicing in the voice of Elvis on “O Come All Ye Faithful” does absolutely nothing to loosen things up (its sickly-sweet promo video overleaf says a lot about the entire album) The same trick pulled with Johnny Mathis on “When a Child is Born” is even less successful.
I could go on. But suffice it to say that only two songs really work. One is “I Believe in Father Christmas” (which may be because Greg Lake’s original is itself pretty stiff) and the other is “The Christmas Waltz” whose light, floating air seemingly comes out of nowhere. To Boyle’s fans - a surprisingly passionate bunch who will take great exception to almost everything I have written - let me say that, as a charity single, I hope “O Come All Ye Faithful” sells by the bucket load. Furthermore I am thrilled Boyle has overcome her difficulties and had a successful career. I just don’t think Home for Christmas is good or bad enough to really cut it on its own merits.
CD: One Direction - Midnight Memories | New music reviews, news & interviews | The Arts Desk
Oozing like “liquefied sucrose,” whilst offering “a Ritalin-buzzed rictus of happiness” was how theartsdesk described One Direction’s 2012 offering, Take Me Home. That, however, was a year ago, and a year is a long a time in the life of a heavily coiffured twenty-ish year-old pop idol. So, how then, have the intervening months treated the Anglo-Irish quintet? Are procedings now a little more adult or is it simply business as usual for Simon Cowell’s protégés?
Surprisingly, things actually have moved forward a fair bit. The tunes may still go a little heavy on the sugar, but it’s no longer strictly gooey, syrupy teen pop, more a light dusting of Tate & Lyle over bright and breezy pop-rock. Guitars crunch and harmonies soar over sturdy 4/4 beats. And although a palpably more adult sound was expected this time round, who would have predicted the triumphant power chords of the title track or the cod indie-rock styling of “Little Black Dress”?
That’s not to say that there aren’t plenty of hideous ballads like “Story of My Life” or “You and I”. Even the jauntier, rockier numbers won’t have a particularly wide appeal. Then again, nor has the move to a more late-adolescent vibe resulted in growing pains like those of Miley Cyrus or Justin Bieber. Indeed, the closest we get to risqué lyrics is Harry telling the girl in “Little Black Dress” he wants to take her home from the party.
CD: Rebecca Ferguson - Freedom | New music reviews, news & interviews | The Arts Desk
Rebecca Ferguson’s first album, Heaven, blew in like a summer breeze in the freezing winter of 2011. What made the Liverpudlian’s debut stand out was not so much the quality of her voice – although it was undeniably big and infectious – but rather that, as an X Factor alumnus, she actually seemed to have something worthwhile to say. As such, it gives me no pleasure to say that the follow up, Freedom, sounds insipid; more Magic FM than, well, magic.
Previously, Ferguson had succeeded in conveying personal struggles through bright, muscular soul melodies. This time around, however, she has simply given us 12 slices of inoffensive R’n’B, apparently "inspired by her babies". The vocal quality has nosedived too. Song after song is belted out with a sledgehammer force reminiscent of Heather Small's later work. Even where John Legend lends a hand on “Bridges” the effect is overblown and syrupy. And the closest Ferguson gets to the lightness of touch she showed on Heaven is the opener “All That I’ve Got”.
What’s so frustrating is how many of the songs – "Wonderful World" is a good example – start off so promisingly, but then descend into over-produced mulch. One wonders if Ferguson arrived at the studio with a bag full of interesting ideas which progressively got stripped bare thanks to a production committee's idea of commercial success. Or maybe it's just that a trip on the carousel of success – and a romantic liason One Direction’s Zayn Malik – has dimmed Ferguson’s star.
Lindsey Buckingham Talks Music, Sky Arts One | TV reviews, news & interviews | The Arts Desk
Sometimes TV doesn’t need to be “challenging” or “groundbreaking” to be thoroughly worthwhile. The first episode of Sky Arts' new “…talks music” series saw the familar format of a live, seated interview applied to one of pop music’s highest achievers: Lindsey Buckingham of Fleetwood Mac. TV producer Malcolm Gerrie led proceedings in an attractive theatre in front of an audience of students. Most memorable were some blistering live demonstrations of Buckingham’s craft.
Gerrie’s interview style may have been a little more One Show than Parkinson but still he kept the singer/guitarist well at ease. The ever-youthful 64-year-old fizzed and buzzed through his trip down memory lane. First, we learned how he met Stephanie “Stevie” Nicks at high school when he was a music geek in the junior year, and she a feisty free spirit in the year above. The two met again a couple of years later and a romantic and musical union blossomed. After joining Buckingham's college band, the two then split to form Buckingham-Nicks.The singer's description of moving down to LA and scoring a record deal after six months conjured up images of palm trees and wide-eyed hope. Then, after hearing how Mick Fleetwood hired them almost on a whim, one imagined wild stories of Fleetwood Mac’s legendary excess to be just around the corner.
In the end, however, we didn’t get much gossip - at least not directly. Buckingham told us in broad terms how the studio during the recording of Rumours consisted of two pairs of feuding exes and a whole lot of drugs. But, for all the dirt he didn't spill about the personal dynamics, his manner and expression gave a vivid sense of the tension. Moreover, his dissection on the nuts and bolts of the album revealed the barbed subtexts to the words. Gerrie’s cue card then prompted a question on how the band survived the emotional and physical turmoil of this period. Buckingham’s reply was “youthful resilience”.
CD: Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP2 | New music reviews, news & interviews | The Arts Desk
Foul-mouthed Eminem is back. On his latest single, “Rap God”, he tells us he’s still as “rude and indecent as hell” before spitting out homophobic slurs like those which once brought him so much trouble. But then being foul-mouthed is kind of the point of the veteran rapper, whose combination of wit and anger often gives his music a rare cathartic power. Especially when his music is as catchy as that contained in the first Marshall Mathers LP (where, lest we forget, he even managed to turn a Dido song into a compelling narrative). How worthy a successor, then, is the second instalment?
It’s pretty darn good. Particularly where Em concentrates on his pop-rap schtick. In fact, “Love Game” with Kendrick Lamar, and “So Far…” may well eclipse the popularity of his recent number one with Rhianna (“Monster”). It’s not just the light end of hip-hop here either - the dynamics of the entire album are well judged. Perhaps it's the Midas presence of producer Rick Rubin, or just a purple patch but Mathers hasn’t seemed this focussed for years. Throw in a well-chosen selection of samples and collaborators and the result is a high-speed, volatile, free-thinking, dissertation on mental illness, family dysfunction and social alienation.
The album kicks off with a lyrical link to the first Marshall Mathers LP. “Bad Guy” continues the story of “Stan" whose musical style is later referenced on the slightly toothless “Legacy”. It isn't surprising, though, that during its 80 minutes not every song on the album is a winner. What does come as a shock is the nuanced apology Mathers makes to his mother - “Headlights” - which, despite the soft rock crooning of Nate Ruess in the background, develops into an incredibly moving, and mature piece. For the most part, however, Em sticks to the formula he describes in "Rap God" - “to be truthful the blueprint is/ simply truth and youthful exuberance”. He may actually be actually 41 but, thankfully, Marshall Bruce Mathers III is showing few signs of growing up.
CD: M.I.A - Matangi | New music reviews, news & interviews | The Arts Desk
M.I.A’s recent single “Bad Girls”, complete with Bhangra beats, frustrated vocals and sense of vacant anger, undeniably shows her at her best. Her singular take on multi-cultural problems has long garnered her critical praise. But there is also a kind of empty stare in her music that others feel demonstrates a deep-down naïveté; or worse. In other words, no one really doubts that, musically, M.I.A can often brew up a pretty toxic potion, but is it real subversion or merely trendy posturing?
Matangi contains both. The strongest tracks are psychotic dance-punk poems to the ills of a globalised digital age. On those songs where things fall flatter the feeling is more of vapid wordplay rapped over tired beats. Both seem consistent with the bundle of contradictions that is Mathangi Maya Arulpragasam – agitator, friend of Julian Assange, feminist icon, and someone often guilty of mistaking slightly banal observations for something more profound. Matangi contains many potent, highly contemporary couplets but there’s also a fair amount of gobbledegook. “Attention”, for instance, simply comprises a list of words ending in the suffix “-tent”. Nor will Arulpragasam win any prizes for originality for telling us “It’s not me and you, it’s the fucking banks” on the irritating "Bring the Noize".
But M.I.A doesn’t need to be a genius in everything she writes; who she is is often sufficient. That slightly bored voice, the violence, the techno-savvy and Asian rhythms place songs like “Warriors” and “Y.A.L.A” right on the nose of the zeitgeist. There’s variety too. The bitter romance “Come Walk with Me” has a chilled-out eastern beach vibe, and “Double Bubble Trouble” (referencing Shampoo’s famous bubblegum hit, “Trouble”) has a heavy dub feel. As for all those fillers, like the dreary "Sexodus", most will, surely, conclude there's enough fire and spice elsewhere to more than compensate.
CD: James Blunt - Moon Landing | New music reviews, news & interviews | The Arts Desk
Few artists make critics wince like James Blunt. One described his biggest hit, “You’re Beautiful”, for instance, as being like “Japanese water torture”. Another said Blunt made him want to “rip his ears off”. Still, the erstwhile army officer doesn’t seem to care what critics say. And why should he? Not only have his songs brought him platinum discs, they’ve also helped pay for houses in Ibiza and Switzerland. He may be less popular than before but the question still remains: with such a big audience what exactly are the critics' issues? And is Moon Landing going to change their minds?
Blunt's mother once opined that some people are simply jealous of her son's posh background. But, in reality, those who knock JB's music are probably less concerned with his Harrow education than his inability to convey any interesting emotions. On this count, Moon Landing is little different from anything that has come before. Music aficionados will generally tolerate all manner of stylistic peculiarity if they feel they are receiving a real slice of someone's soul. Blunt may have an unusual, thin, helium voice but lyrically he is about as convincing as that pet dog who was recently substituted for a lion in a Chinese zoo.
Sample lines from Moon Landing include the bland "It’s hard to find the one/ But in time all flowers turn to face the sun”; and the meaningless “Your mouth is a revolver firing bullets in the sky”. Even with Tom Rothrock's production, they come wrapped in saccharine melodies, delivered with smug earnestness.
Alison Moyet, Royal Festival Hall | New music reviews, news & interviews | The Arts Desk
You couldn’t help marvelling at how good Alison Moyet looked. It wasn’t just her dramatically slimmed-down physique, but also the sense of her being truly comfortable in her own skin. Partly, that may have just been a result of an increasingly optimistic outlook. But also it seemed to emanate from Moyet's confidence in her new material. Since its release in May, her new album, The Minutes, has been well received. Could the songbird from Billericay also work that synth-heavy magic, live?
Certainly there were no complaints from the audience. Indeed, at times, it appeared as if Alf could have read the phone book and received an ovation. The capacity crowd – seemingly a mixture of mums, dads, and flamboyant clubbers of all ages - responded to her every move with a fervour that bordered on the fanatical. Yet, if the level of enthusiasm was surprising, it was not altogether unwarranted.
Moyet arrived on stage dressed in a black suit and sporting copper-dyed hair, looking a little like she could be an older cousin of Florence Welch. She then announced in a chirpy, deep Essex voice that we were going to treated to the new album and older material in equal measure. Remarkably, when she then sang the Yazoo number “Nobody’s Diary” and her recent single “When I Was Your Girl” back to back, despite having been written 36 years apart they sounded like they might have come from the same album.
Recent Comments