The Decemberists - The Hazards of Love

Calling on past eras of pop, punk, & rock ’n’ roll, and subsequently varnishing the product with their own seasoned blend of baroque personality, which scavenges and prowls the musical palate like marauding pirates, the Decemberists have at last perfected the presentation of their theatrical music on The Hazards of Love.

The record flows with liquid fluidity from track to track as it follows the story of the heroine Margaret as she falls in love with William, a creature of an at-times serene but equally malicious shape-shifting forest of shadows. The plotline allows the Decemberists to play with the album structure, mixing metal distortion with folk sweetness, punk viscosity with baroque harpsichords and skilfully pulling it all off with immaculate ease. Consequently, the album doesn’t settle on any stable ground sonically, instead using the plot of the musical as its anchor. The resulting fluctuation in sound may prove frustrating for some listeners.

However, loyalty to their storytelling has allowed the Decemberists to create a number of stylistic musical themes which fashion the previously mentioned fluidity, crafting the album as a single entity. In the same stroke such song-to-song flow sacrifices the ability to have two or three outstanding tracks that act as hooks for the record, one exception being the dry, rhythmic ‘The Rake’s Song’, the record’s first single. This really is an album that the listener must consume from start to finish and not merely pick out the candy in the middle. The genius lies in the Decemberists’ ability to make the experience overwhelmingly enjoyable. Conclusion: a damn fine record. The musicianship is outstanding, the storyline intriguing and all delivered by the now-experts of fable music. The Decemberists have finally seemed to tap into that huge well of potential that was so visible on Picaresque and Castaways and Cutouts, and deliver a record so pleasurable and diverse the seventeen tracks can be played several times in an afternoon without losing their shine. Well fucking done.

Vinyl - The Beauty Of

I put a record on, a vinyl record. It’s Wolf Parade’s new album At Mount Zoomer.The needle protests as it is reluctantly dragged from its cradle and dropped carelessly onto the spinning black vortex below. As the speakers begin to crackle I log onto the Sub Pop website to access a digital download of the same album; my record came with a code that enables me to download the entire album for free since I bought vinyl. Sub Pop and many other labels are finding this to be the final key in aiding potential buyers to make the conversion from CD to vinyl for good.

My album is both spinning and downloaded. Before my eyes now lie the original and the artificial, the tangible and the digital, music in its earliest form befriending its contemporary replica after twenty years of being pushed to the limits of sonic evolution. I find it curious that dinosaurs and cyborgs can live side by side in this fashion and wonder what it is that has propelled our generation to pick up the vinyl record once again and behold it.

After being restricted to the domain of dance and hiphop DJs for so long vinyl has experienced a momentous comeback over the last few years, a comeback now snowballing as the variety of music available on vinyl increases and the price of the vinyl record – on average – has dropped. The market for vinyl has switched on.

The vinyl record (I like to think) is a symbol of generational distrust and dissatisfaction with the fragmentation of albums into modular mp3 tracks, flagging the entire concept of the ‘album’ as a singular whole. So often when artists are condensed into a digital music library the individuality and uniqueness of music is blended into a mediocre pulp, reflecting only the band’s label (their name) and not their ideas, characteristics, and actual identity as a record can.

The vinyl record is nostalgia for bygone eras we never belonged to, when music was morphed and moulded by causes worth fighting for as well as experimentation with mind-expanding and self-destructing substances; when youth would come together to enjoy music and not pit against each other in search for some kind of shallow self-satisfaction that comes when Wanky O’Jackass knows 13 bands Emo McIndiepants has never heard of.

It is also for scenester kids who don’t own record players but still want to look cool, to have their own special sections of Real Groovy. Yet despite their best efforts to impress, they’ll still pick out that CSS album every time.

Vinyl is society’s #1 laziness fighter: no matter how good the new GTA is you still have to get off your ass and flip the record over to side B.

The vinyl resurgence has also helped the sales of many psuedo- 1950’s cheap replica juke-box-esque record players with sub par quality from Iko Iko and various novelty stores. Awesome.

The vinyl record abruptly stops and the needle swings moodily back to its cradle, with a manner of ‘don’t disturb me again fucker’; maybe, beyond all things mentioned, it is this character of the vinyl experience which is making it so popular. In an increasingly insensitive and impersonal world, vinyl offers music lovers a connection to their art that CDs and especially digital music struggle to present. The sheer effort it takes to maintain a vinyl record can only be done properly by those who truly care for them. The practice of putting on a vinyl LP and watching it slowly swirl in front of you offers a level of personal involvement with the music that other formats cannot: you have to put the record on the turntable, and switch between 45 and 78rpm depending on the record; you have to maintain the needle and be delicate when lowering it onto the record; you get to watch the music manifest in front of you, and for some reason, you can understand how this record works. Even when there are no speakers plugged in, you can still hear the music rise of the speakers like invisible smoke. It makes music real. The warmth offered by a vinyl sound puts to shame the thin over-polished of a ‘digitally re-mastered’ specimen’s audacious claim of superiority.

Perhaps this is why so many are now giving up the pursuit of CDs and switching to or back-to vinyl.

Cold War Kids - Loyalty to Loyalty

The sobering tones of Cold War Kids (CWKs) second full-length release Loyalty to Loyalty has received a sound lashing from trendster music sites (yes, yes Pitchfork etc.). Admittedly, this is in part justified as CWKs have followed an astonishing debut (Robbers and Cowards) with a less endearing and accessible album, which makes the listener work harder to enjoy it.

Loyalty to Loyalty is not as much of a complete package as their debut, and yes, at times Willetts vocals are too strained and yes, in ‘Avalanche in B’ he seems to make up the melody as he goes along. The first half of the record features frantic tracks of a heart-pumping pace, in the manner of a spastic ‘Hang Me Up To Dry’. This is followed by a 180-turn into a second half of mostly slow, drunken blues, which in the wake of the blood-thirsty openers seem to drag horribly. Such quirks are abrasive on first listen, but after the second or third it becomes easy to look past such trifles and investigate into whether Loyalty to Loyalty delivers quality, substantial music.

The conclusion: yes, it most certainly does. The mentioned annoyances are in truth normal teething problems of a maturing act. The lyrical content is still blatantly political, and reflective of American society although perhaps not as acute as it could be. The dominant music elements come from the percussion section: where the strutting, chirpy guitar parts and syncopated gospel vocals once dominated on Robbers and Cowards, the drums and rhythm now reign. With patience, Loyalty to Loyalty quickly gains the endearing charisma of its predecessor and moulds to the musical palette. ‘I’ve Seen Enough’, ‘Every Valley Is Not A Lake’, and first single ‘Something Is Not Right With Me’ are arguably the finest blues-rock (with wonderful touches of soul) the band has yet produced and act as the hooks of the record to bait and hold the listener.

After the initial buzz of the bam-bam-bam-bam outbreak of exhilarating tracks from ‘Mexican Dogs’ to ‘Welcome to the Occupation’ drunken disorientation sinks in. ‘Golden Gate Jumpers’ slouches over a bar in North Beach, San Francisco and recites miserable but enticing tales of suicide in a classic cabaret fashion, with those moments of whimsical genius followed by the cringe-worthy antics of the premature-drunk at the party. Cabaret and ragtime feature heavily on the record, as CWKs undress their sound to the near naked roots of their influences.

Held to the audacious criteria of what is supposedly ‘excellence’ in contemporary alternative music, Loyalty to Loyaltyis a frustrating experience. But, saying ‘fuck you’ to music industry standards and analysing the record on merits of musicianship and meaning, this is a brilliant album. If you’re after a replica of Robbers & Cowards then prepare for brutal disappointment. Loyalty to Loyalty is an important step towards maturity for Cold War Kids and for those who open themselves to such endeavours, this album will become even more meaningful and endearing than their debut.

Amanda Palmer - Who Killed Amanda Palmer?

When I first heard Amanda Palmer was working on a solo album I immediately questioned her motivation. The theatrical singer/pianist and principal songwriter of The Dresden Dolls only has one other member in her band – drummer Brian Viglione – so how much could she possibly accomplish sonically and personally by simply dropping the other half of her band for an album?

It seems I underestimated Brian’s artistic input in The Dresden Dolls. Amanda has released an album revealing she clearly needed to get some very personal things off her chest, and do it by herself. Her method (for the most part) differs from the crash-and-bang sound she and her usual counterpart favour.

The style is mostly cabaret but done in the midst of uproar and commotion only Amanda could stir up. ‘Ampersand’ and ‘Leeds United’ are the early standouts. The former is a sweet, temperate song featuring piano and string, and Amanda’s strained vocals flowing along the lower melody, and chirping the occasional high note – honest and unrepentant with every pitch. The latter proves that pianos can still jam out awesome hard-rock in the 21st Century; as Amanda tries her damndest to keep the mic in the red, she is aided with an army of percussion and punchy brass.

‘Oasis’ features chirpy happy-go-lucky melodies ironically set against lyrics of depicting rape and abortion, which are apparently scars Amanda can live with since ‘’Oasis got my letter in the mail’.’ Alongside such dense emotion feature entirely stripped-back tracks featuring Amanda just doing her thing at her piano – although usually accompanied by a string section.

For Dresden Dolls fans, don’t worry, Amanda Palmer will not disappointed you… I find it hard to believe a character so brutally honest with her self and her fans ever could. Her presence in the music is as potent and audacious as ever, and (I can’t help but express this cliché) this is an album which gets more amazing with every listen. Go and listen to it! Listen to it right now!

Superturtle - To the Rescue

It was such a wonderful and unexpected surprise when Superturtle’s debut album complete with vinyl 45 ‘Never Come Back/All My Friends’ single turned up in the Salient office, and it is an album which has put the most unusual spark in what has been – up till then – a pretty meh week.

Superturtle create music that sounds like it has just got laid, then maybe smoked a joint. It is sweet, gentle, and leisurely ease while simultaneously packing an absurd amount of quirkiness and melodic and rhythmic variety, as well being a little smug about it all. Which is cool, they deserve confidence: they’ve attempted to break loose of the typical ‘indie’ sound and travel in the direction that has suited them, fuelled by experience, influence, and musical talent. The result is an album that offers something new with every track – from fuzzy pop (‘The Whole Night Through’), to hard-focused post-punk (‘Cash that Cheque’), to deep moaning brass and adorable space-wobbles (‘All Our Friends’) – and an approach to music to has valued artistic integrity over ego and reputation.

Their charm stems from an aura much like the bright New Zealand suns of old. They are rediscovering music with a New Zealand flavour without resorting to dub/roots or blindly following international indie trends like zombies and calling it ‘local’. Bands such as The Mutton Birds, Bressa Creeting Cake, Split Enz and – dare I say it – Goodshirt all spring to mind: perhaps it’s the squawking seagull samples, the confused stumbling bass lines, vocals thick a dated kiwi accent (from when it still betrayed our British heritage) or the plain down-right originality. But more-so I think they all share a musical style that is earnest and innocent, flowing with youthful innovation. Yes, there is something to this stubborn Auckland sound that is just bloody wonderful!

Of course it should be no surprise that the single is such a wonderful mix of old and new: featuring on the record are Debbie Silvey from Garageland, Ricky McShane who (along with Silvey) is from Chainsaw Masochist, and Ben Furniss who (along with McShane) is from White Swan Black Swan, accompanied but the fucking Hot Grits horn section! The band began as Darren McShane’s (Chainsaw Masochist and BFM DJ) pet project and it grew to become the five-piece it is today.

However I will say that after listening to the single featuring All Our Friends and Never Came Back on the warm crackling fireside sound of vinyl, the CD does sound comparatively flat and chilly: another testament to the contemporary relevance of vinyl. Although Superturtle have attempted a masterful album of alt-pop I have to conclude that they haven’t quite pulled it off. Sometimes their simplicity consequentially leads to a lack of substance. For a debut, I think that is forgivable considering that To The Rescue is a solid foundation on which to build a good career.

Underage Venues: Where do the Children Play?

One thing I’ve noticed during my gig-going of late is the growing number of people at concerts who infuriate me, and I’ve managed to carelessly group such people into two categories: those who go to gigs but aren’t there for the music and those who love the music but simply don’t know how to behave at gigs. I sound like a dick but let’s be honest, when you go to see a band there are a set of common-fucking-sense guidelines you’re obligated to follow that ensure you and your music loving peers all have a cool time. Such as: it’s cool to be drunk and a little nuts, it’s not cool to be the one-man-mosh pit. Another is it’s cool you’re at the gig but it is not cool to form a circle with your buds in the middle of the audience to chatter and take pictures of yourselves; when everybody there has paid $60 to see this band we expect you to please shut the fuck up and watch them. There are rules. And the only way to learn these rules is to go to gigs, go to them constantly and learn how annoying you are. Everybody has to.

Which brings me to the point: I believe for this reason we need a space in Wellington where high school aged kids can get together, see awesome up-and-coming bands, learn local band knowledge, expand their musical palette, and learn the ropes of live music early to become cool rule-abiding gig-goers that don’t fuck us all off when they reach university. Wellington – we need an awesome underage venue.

Of course there’s Zeal, the underage (sorry, all ages) club at Glover Park between Garett and Ghuznee Streets. Zeal is heavily funded by the City Council and the Ministry of Youth Development, among others. While the emos seem to love it, the place has heavy overtones of general patronising uncoolness that turn much of its target audience away. We need somewhere that is bigger, better and cooler, that doesn’t remind its clientele at every step that they are lame 15 year olds who can’t get in to real bars.

I have no other expectation than for this plea to fall on a city of deaf ears. Most of us couldn’t give less of a shit whether high school kids have their own place to party or not. But we provide young sport enthusiasts with teams and a place to practice; we provide young skateboarders with parks where they can skate in a safe atmosphere off the streets; why not get that shaky, self-doubting kid off MSN on Friday nights and provide him with a place where he can make some friends and gain confidence in himself? God forbid, he might even form a band!

Unfortunately, underage venues always struggle because there’s simply no money in them. The Zeal website even admits that “All-ages are nearly impossible to run at a profit”. Young people rarely have much money of their own to spend and, more importantly they can’t legally purchase alcohol. And as we know, the money made off booze is the key component to whether a venue succeeds or not. Wellington’s only other underage venue, Old Studio 9 on Edward Street, recently closed because the owners couldn’t make the rent with door charges and soft drink sales alone.

So if we can’t have a cool underage venue, and we want kids to gain an education on gig-going and music, what options remain? Sure, the ones who really, truly want to see live music will find a way to do it; fake IDs, sneaking in, etc., but these are hardly positive options for the majority of young people.

The only other alternative is for promoters and tour organizers to make deals with venues that result in more under 18 gigs at places like San Fran, Bodega, and Happy, which either close the bar (there’s that problem again) or give those over the age of 18 bar access with a different entry stamp. I’m aware that this still happens, but it is becoming rarer and rarer.

So I open the floor to feedback. Does Wellington need a venue that can provide an education for our younger brothers and sisters? Is it worth pressuring the right groups into providing Under 18 gigs or are there other, more productive alternatives? Or is the whole thing just silly, plain ole silly?

Ethical - Ages Turn

Ethical has produced an impressive debut album. He is a talented rapper who has confidence in his artistic credibility, and it shows. Ages Turn is a polished, well produced album which portrays Ethical as a rapper who takes himself and his music seriously, in an age after rap has been thoroughly raped by the major music industry.

The real key to this album, apart from the fact that his lyrics are brilliant, is that you can believe he is a real musician. Each song is unique and different from the last, and each bar seems to have undergone a painful amount of attention to detail. He uses samples, synthesisers and string arrangements which harmoniously thread through each other to create a different, originally composed backing track on each song.

This is a rapper I’m proud is from New Zealand, and hell he has some shit to say. He – thank god – ventures away from the New Zealand flagpoint lyrics about the South Auckland ghetto and shootings in Manakau and advances to constructive reflections of a New Zealand that sheltered muppets like John Key could never dream of.

There is not much you can pick out and criticise with Ages Turn. It appears to be a complete hip hop package – while I wasn’t entirely blown away, each aspect of the album delivers beyond expectation.

This is hip-hop all young New Zealanders should be able to enjoy. It is innovative, intelligent, and comes straight from the blood and background of the artist. Hopefully Ethical continues the standard Ages Turn has set and continues to advance his talent and stick to his own thing.