I Think That’s the One – my favourite vintage Bowie

While performing a mundane household task the other day I thought I’d put on some music. I had a look through our CDs and settled on some Bowie – a “best of” collection. Just out of interest I thought I’d try to decide which was my favourite of these vintage tracks. (Well, I guess all Bowie’s vintage now, but this particular album covered 1969–1974.) One track did win out for me, but there were a few close runners-up.

Hazy cosmic jive

I’ve been a Bowie fan since I was first aware of Space Oddity. I would’ve been two years old when this was released, so its one of those tracks that’s always just been there. It’s a unique track, and listening to it closely there’s incredible detail in the recording – something that’s true of all of these songs. But this one’s not my favourite.

For a while I thought it’d be Changes, with its warm, alluring intro, shifts in tempo and key. Or Sorrow with its soft, lilting vocals, saxophones and strings. But no. The Man Who Sold the World (my wife’s fave) is another great track. I love it’s lazy, compressed guitar hook, but the lyric I gazed a gazely stare drops me out of this one every time. I’ve got something of a soft spot for Rock n Roll Suicide: like Space Oddity it’s a track that stood out even when I was a kid. But I didn’t feel that was the one, either.

So which track was it? Well, in a way I didn’t want it to be this one, because in many ways it’s an obvious choice.

The winner is (insert drum roll here): Life on Mars

Oh, man, look at those cavemen go

Life on Mars is a stunning track. The piano riff on the run up to the chorus is superb. Take a look at the lawman, beating up the wrong guy. That lyric alone could swing it for me. There are eddies and flows and orchestral flurries, the sheer drama of the cellos and strings. Timpany drums! And that beautiful, delicate piano in the reprise, followed by the ringing phone and the words I think that’s the one – presumably referring to the recording, I don’t know. Life on Mars is melancholy and dramatic and unashamedly epic, and I love all that about it.

While listening to these tracks I was reminded of Bowie’s immense talent. The man’s a master of vocal variation, and the musicianship on these recordings is fantastic. I even liked the bass on most of them. There will not be another like him, so versatile and influential.

So that’s it: my favourite vintage Bowie track. Predictable, perhaps, but with good reason. What’s yours?

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Don’t Get Any Big Ideas – a blog about my favourite Radiohead tracks

I wrote some time ago about Radiohead releasing “stems” of their beautiful track Nude from their album In Rainbows. The idea of releasing the stems was to allow people to remix Nude, with the results the band liked best being uploaded somewhere (I think it may be radioheadremixcom). While initially tempted to have a stab at it myself, in the end I couldn’t bring myself to meddle with this wonderful track, which is among my Radiohead favourites.

Don’t get any big ideas. They’re not gonna happen.

Instead, I often listen to the stems – drums, bass, guitar, effects and vocals – in their own right. Separating Nude into its component parts gives a fascinating insight into the work that went into the track, and the stunning musicianship and production. The guitar stem is probably my favourite: the sound is warm, clear and mellow, and the playing incredible, with touches of vibrato that are simply lost in the complete track. You can heard the guitar stem here (it’s silent until 1:12, and falls silent at other points where there is no guitar on the finished track).

You’ll go to hell for what your dirty mind is thinking.

For a long time How to Disappear Completely was my favourite Radiohead track. I love Thom Yorke’s vocals and the rolling, edgy strings, the rise to a cacophony followed by the abrupt drop to lullaby. But listening to the two tracks back to back, Nude wins out by a country mile. The track takes the sweeping emotional soundscape the band opened up with How to Disappear Completely but reigns it in a little – everything has more space, and the emotional impact is intensified through restraint and subtle tweaks of production. Yorke’s vocals are incredible, and the lyrics of Nude certainly have more impact for me.

There are a couple of links to the songs on YouTube below. If you’re not familiar with the tracks, give them a listen and decide for yourself. I recommend closing your eyes. Click Radiohead in the tag cloud, right, for related posts.

Martin
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How to Disappear Completely (YouTube)
Nude (YouTube)

Radiohead – The King of Limbs

I’ve listened through the The King of Limbs once as I write, so this is a first impression.

A lot of people won’t get this record. It could be a bit like jazz. Or Marmite. You know.

For me, it’s an amazing soundscape of gentle restraint and breathtaking inventiveness by artists whose brilliance is likely to be obscured by its understated nature. I kept having to stop what I was doing just to listen to the echos and the gently plucked strings. It’s music for listening to when you’re alone in the house, headphones on, curtains closed.

You won’t be singing along. You might not even hum a tune afterwards.

But it’s a Radiohead album.

Relax and Swing – a blog about 80s pop group Japan

I was mad into Japan 25-30 years ago. I had David Sylvian hair (well, kinda – and as my wife pointed out, “everyone had their hair like that”; but then she went to a girls’ school). I also had a Sylvian coat, but although I tried to get shoes like those he wore on the back of the Tin Drum cover, the best I could do was a pair of cheap espadrilles from Bacons. It was a fascination with the band I shared with a friend, who wore a similar coat and and had similar hair. We must have looked a right pair when we walked around Tamworth. Where are you now, Warren Garret?

Sometimes I’d have friends round to my house. Being an enthusiastic sort I’d make them sit cross-legged on my bedroom floor attempting to eat Chinese food with chopsticks while playing Japan albums on my Amstrad. When we went out we’d ask the DJ to play Quiet Life, with it’s helicopter sound, sweeping keyboards and wailing guitar. This is a great, powerful dance track that you’ll sing to without realising it, and which somehow sits comfortably between glam and disco and new wave. It’s got depth, too. At the end there are numerous vocal layers, including a very deep vocal that’s barely audible through anything but headphones.

Perspectives

Since hearing about Mick Karn’s premature death from cancer last week I’ve been listening to the band a lot. Back in the day I tended to focus on Sylvian’s voice. He always struck me as somewhat affected and pretentious even when I was 14; but that’s OK, because he was a pop star, and pop stars should always be out of the ordinary, right? Right.

The thing is, listening to Japan now what strikes me most from my older and more musically appreciative viewpoint is the innovation in the band’s music, and the quite incredible musicianship.

Japan got lumped in with the whole New Romantic thing that was developing at the beginning of the 1980s, but that wasn’t really what they were about. Yes, they wore make-up and had hair in spades, but this was more to do with their glam roots than anything. They were Avant-guard, more influential of the New Romantic scene, particularly Duran Duran, than part of it. Although let’s face it, being labelled “New Romantic” probably didn’t do the band any harm at the time.

Japan’s music is complex and carefully constructed. Although not a style the band is associated with, there’s considerable funk, and intricate rhythms with lots of percussion, drum machines and “real” drums from Steven Jansen, all usually happening at the same time without sounding a mess – not an easy trick to pull off. Then there’s the minimalist guitar work; often it doesn’t sound like a guitar at all, with great dive-bomb sounds or sitting just the right side of rock – more attitude than anything. Then there’s wonderfully warm and warbling sounds produced by Richard Barbieri’s keyboards, with everything underpinned by Karn’s fantastic bass playing.

Karn was probably the coolest member of Japan for my money. His bass playing was nothing short of phenomenal. He used a fretless bass, which has a unique, woody sound anyway, but this guy played bends and slides and vibrato in a very percussive and funky style. He was also responsible for the Bowie-esque chorused saxophone sound the band used such a lot, as well as more exotic instruments such as the ocarina.

Swing

The Smokey Robinson classic I Second That Emotion was a big hit for Japan, being very accessible to many people, and coming along as the New Romantic scene began to blossom. While this is a great track that the band covered in their own style very effectively, it’s not my favourite simply because it’s a cover. However, I could listen to Karn’s bass line all day, with that little slide down at the end of each phrase.

My all-time favourite Japan track is Swing, from the album Gentlemen Take Polaroids. Why do I like it so much? I understand now that what draws me to much of Japan’s music, and this track in particular, is the use of flat notes, semi-tone changes and minor chords. This is what makes many of the band’s tracks pretty dark, despite somehow managing to remain “pop”. This is something that also draws me to artists such as Nick Cave and Radiohead.

The vocal is pretty soulful. While I always liked Sylvian’s voice I thought it was somewhat over-croony at times, but respect to the man – he could really sing. Underneath it all, a drum machine and Jansen’s drumming perfectly compliment each other, supported by synth textures that are by turns powerful and beautiful, but often subtle enough to pass by the casual listener.

Ghosts

Ghosts is perhaps Japan’s most famous track, and possibly the one which encapsulates the band. Back in 1981, and even today, Ghosts as a pop song is pretty daring, with Barbieri’s wibbly-wobbly keyboard notes and fart noises reminiscent of the sounds generated by Louis and Bebe Baron for the beginning of the classic SF movie Forbidden Planet.

This is a dark song that draws you in gradually. The guitar complements the keyboards as Barbieri uses pitch bends and great warmth in the synth sounds to offset the tortured vocal. Everything grows gently as the song builds to Sylvian’s plea in the last chorus, beneath which is a beautiful, minimalist high keyboard line. It is pop genius in what is an otherwise very downbeat song.

Cantonese Boy was one of Japan’s biggest hits, with a more poppy sound than many of the band’s other songs. To be honest I never really liked the chorus on this one – the oriental thing’s just a tad overdone – but Karn’s bass is something really special, with wonderful percussion. There’s also a great instrumental bridge from the chorus back into the verse, with Barbieri’s synth whistles and chirps and percussive playing.

There are great dynamics and space in most of Japan’s tracks, and Cantonese Boy is no exception, despite sounding relatively full. There are also very subtle touches in terms of production, with shifts in the stereo field and changes of reverb. Huge kudos to Steve Nye here.

The first verse is a perfect example: the high synth lines switch from left in the stereo field to the right on alternate phrases, and act as a minimalist hook throughout the verse; the bass and drums are quite up front, the bass central and steady. When Sylvian’s voice comes in it is initially quite dry with little reverb, and central in the stereo field; it then separates, with more reverb, supported by multiple vocal overdubs, and alternates with the dryer, single vocal.

This is all within the first 45 seconds, kids.

The Art of Parties

Okay, so Japan’s eastern thing was perhaps a little overcooked, but it gave them unique positioning. Looking back, they were a band whose musicianship was perhaps not as appreciated as it should have been.

Does Japan’s music sound dated? I don’t know. I’d have to get a teenager to listen to it and gauge their reaction. To me, it’s a tremendously creative sound that’s way more than the sum of its component parts, and stands its ground in terms of creativity. Get out your records, play a few tracks, and take a listen beyond that which immediately presents itself – you might hear stuff you’ve never heard before.

All you’ve got to do is relax, man. Relax and swing.

Lyric of the day

She gave a little flirt, gave herself a little cuddle
but there’s no place here for the mini-skirt waddle
capital punishment, she’s last year’s model
they call her Natasha when she looks like Elsie
I don’t want to go to Chelsea

- I Don’t Want to go to Chelsea – Elvis Costello and the Attractions