Conquering Animal Sound - Kammerspiel (Album)

I have long been of the opinion (and I suspect that I’m far from alone on these pages in thinking this) that the best record labels are those which are able to bring together bands with some kind of aesthetic similarity. Certainly the records released by my favourite labels over the years have, on the whole, tended to have a common thread which distinguishes them instantly as a product of their particular imprint. In recent years, one such label to have emerged to fit in with this particular penchant has been Leeds’ Gizeh Records, home to the likes of Glissando, Sleepingdog and Fieldhead. When a Gizeh release lands on your doormat you know that you’re reasonably likely to encounter something chilly and unearthly, but also something which more often than not will be a beautiful and enriching piece of work.

And so it is with Glasgow-based duo Anneke Kampman and James Scott who comprise Conquering Animal Sound. Their debut album Kammerspiel is a ghostly collection of minimalistic beats, loops and fragile ambience, overlaid with Kampman’s beatifully frail vocal. Its delicateness and woozy air mean that it is a record which is best absorbed late at night, preferably at the point last thing when your brain is at its sleepiest. In this context it becomes almost lullaby-esque, with Kampman’s soft burr tailor-made for soothing away the mental aches of the daily cut and thrust

Too often records made up of minimal components are misinterpreted as being gloomy, but this is unlikely to be a fate which befalls Kammerspiel, given the sunlit glow which bathes its sounds. Take opening song ‘Maschines’ for example, as it begins with a twinkling melody and builds gently like the breaking of the day, culminating in Kampman softly cooing “You are home”. As the album progresses, you come to realise that the template of ‘Maschines’ is in fact the blueprint for much of Conquering Animal Sound’s work. Frequently their songs begin in timorous fashion, gradually layering more and more sounds on top as they build. Let’s be clear though, this isn’t to say that Kammerspiel is in any way guilty of being formulaic, because the band display a boundless creativity with the finer details throughout, a little snippet of tape hiss here, a dissonant hint of cello or a snatch of thickly-distorted vocal sample there, meaning you’re never really fully aware of where they’re taking you at any point.

In spite of its predilection for abstract noise, Kammerspiel is still at heart an album of songs and melodies which frequently follows the verse/chorus structure. Clearly, Conquering Animal Sound are more than just aimless experimentalists, because throughout there is a strong feeling that while you might not know what they are going to do next, they most certainly do. Probably the most naked song on the album is final track ‘Ira’, which dispenses with much of the effects, leaving the beauty and the melody of the song unabashed. It’s an interesting taster of what Conquering Animal Sound might be like were they a little more conventional, and while ‘Ira’ might be sufficiently pretty to stand on its own two feet, the contrast between it and much of the rest of the album illustrates the importance of the flourishes of the noises and samples.

With Kammerspiel, Conquering Animal Sound have simultaneously managed to capture on record the full depth of their creativity and imagination, as well as the inherent beauty of their sound. It is a wonderful piece of work which deseves to be cherished, and gives us far more than we might reasonably expect from anyone’s debut album.

9/10

Band of Horses - Newcastle O2 Academy 26/01/2011 (Gig)

When the fuck did Band of Horses became big enough to be packing out the Academy’s main room? I’d suggest it might be something to do with Twilight, but the ratio of males to females here tonight gives lie to that little theory. Whatever it was that brought about their popularity, the band, making their return to the live arena after a few months off the road, are for the most part in awesome form tonight. They emphatically cast aside the limpness that has latterly started to creep into their recorded output, playing with a pleasantly surprising vitality and transforming their sun-dappled Americana into bona fide arena-razing anthems, accompanying the whole thing with some beautiful backdrops (Seriously, why don’t more bands make an effort with the visual side of their shows?) Given the highs of the set, it's a shame that there are odd occasions when it can sag, which may have something to do with the general flatness of the possibly-vampire-enhanced crowd. Thankfully though, even this sorry bunch come to life during The Funeral and Is There a Ghost?, two songs which perfectly encapsulate all that is good about Band of Horses’ gorgeously warm songcraft.

Hannah Peel - The Broken Wave (Album)

The route Hannah Peel has taken on the way to her day job as a solo recording artist has been quite a circuitous one, taking in various projects both musical and otherwise, but the arrival of her debut record finds her cast into an unenviably competitive scene replete with artists both male and female making similarly quirky folk music. In such a saturated market, particularly one encompassing so much ethereality, it can be difficult for an artist to separate themselves from their contemporaries or break free from the cliches of what folk music represents.

Unquestionably, Peel’s work comes more from Newsom’s end of the scale than Marling’s, carrying with it more than a hint of the otherworldly which stems in part from the ghostly, frail quality of her voice, which at times can be spellbinding here. It’s clearly one of her strongest assets, but it’s nice just how sparingly she exercises it, keeping it for the most part reined in rather than letting it overshadow the songcraft, an economy which is truly crucial in the album’s success. Because there is little doubt here, The Broken Wave is a hugely impressive piece of work, which showcases Peel’s adroitness with a melody quite beautifully, with the simple, elegant swells of ‘You Call This Your Home’ and ‘Song For the Sea’ being wonderful cases in point.

Peel’s previous musical meanderings with the likes of The Unthanks and Tunng have proved to be beneficial in the construction of The Broken Wave, because it has meant that she has been able to call on an impressive cast of collaborators, including the latter’s Mike Lindsay who is responsible for a strong production which is equal parts clean and off kilter. Also present is Nitin Sawhney who lends a hand composing the beautiful strings on ‘Don’t Kiss the Broken One’ and ‘Solitude’, resulting in two of the album’s most bewitching moments.

Amid the prettiness of the music, there is a profusion of melancholy in Peel’s stories of love, loss and longing, but in spite of the tone, you can’t help but feel ultimately comforted by the songs because there is such warmth present in the delivery and the music which accompanies it, particularly on those occasions such as ‘Unwound’ or tradition Irish folk song ‘Cailin Deas Cruite Na Mbo’ when she revisits an old music box which was used in much of her earlier work. It’s genuinely surprising to learn that the album was recorded in a mere three weeks, because The Broken Wave is certainly not an album which sounds like it was hurriedly assembled. Indeed, one of its greatest triumphs is how full, and beautifully put together the whole thing sounds.

The release of The Broken Wave heralds the arrival of a genuine creative force in British folk music, and one of the scariest things about it is that you get the impression that Peel hasn’t really even got going fully yet. The record inspires a feeling that as she grows in confidence and experience she will get even better, which is quite a prospect.

8/10

Mogwai - Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will (Album)

Due to their status as demi-Gods of beard-caressing experimentalism, any new music recorded by Mogwai will inevitably be accompanied by gallons of hyperbolic messageboard bullshit both positive and negative which, if you aren’t careful, could completely distort your perceptions of the music before you even hear a note. Hardcore Will Never Die... has inevitably continued this grim trend, prompting all manner of bitter bollocks about the band having been shit for ten years. Stepping away from the vicious context for a moment, the record is possibly their most direct effort yet, and one of their most upbeat too. Indeed, the propensity for straight-up rock instrumentals like Death Rays and San Pedro comes as a slight surprise after the misleadingly murky pre-release download of Rano Pano. There’s unmistakably less introspection here than normal, with the gorgeous Letters to the Metro representing the only moment where the album skulks into its shell, and even the quiet is shortlived, as the band immediately resume their mission to live out their alt-rock fantasies. It’s all pretty exhilarating stuff, and just because their pant-destroyingly brilliant previous work might still shade it, that doesn’t mean you should believe the naysayers that Mogwai are dead as a creative force.

4/5

Yuck - Tips for 2011

My bit from Muso's Guide's Tips for 2011 article:

Yuck spent much of 2010 tantalising the blogosphere, gradually drizzling songs out on their own blog, in the process slowly whipping fuzz-rock aficionados like me into an ever-intensifying tizzy about how flipping brilliant they are. Then, over the summer, in a move seemingly designed exclusively to peeve anybody with a computer keyboard, they temporarily changed their name to Yu(c)k, and put a brilliant, if slightly baffling, EP of piano-led slow-burners. Not a predictable band, this lot, then...

Nobody is pretending that the brand of distorted guitar pop which constitutes Yuck’s day job is particularly new, but in the same way as we saw with The Pains of Being Pure at Heart two years ago, their music is so captivating that suddenly originality seems a bit over-rated. With songs as strong as ‘Georgia’, and live shows as gloriously scuzzy as Yuck’s are, well, that’s enough, and it really doesn’t matter just how nakedly they display their influences. Having landed a spot in the BBC Sound of 2011 (but please don’t hold that against them), and with their debut album due later in the year, 2011 is pretty much Yuck’s to do with as they see fit.

Kubichek - Not Enough Night (Album)

It’s staggering how quick and easy the Internet has made our access to an utter cavalcade of bands. Obviously this is a bit of a double-edged sword, because while we are now discovering artists we might not necessarily have had access to in years gone by, there is a very real danger that music eventually becomes something we stuff gluttonously and heedlessly into our ears simply because there are three other albums queued in our eMusic download manager which also need listening to this afternoon. If we’re consuming music like this, it is an unavoidable and regrettable side effect that innumerable great bands and albums will slip off the radar, which is pretty depressing if you stop to think about it.

Now, obviously, I’m not suggesting that lost classics are a new phenomenon, but the current industry model has shown us that no matter how wonderful the Internet revolution has been for music, there will always be great records which will be overlooked, it’s just that there are now loads more of them tantalisingly sat at the end of our fingertips. All of which brings me (reasonably) neatly on to our new feature, in which we will regularly focus on exactly that sort of album, a record which is dear to our hearts but for whatever reason isn’t as well known as we feel it ought to be.

If it wasn’t for a happy accident of geography which meant that Kubichek just happened to hail from the same part of England as me, there’s every chance that I might still be completely oblivious to Not Enough Night, and my life would be a tiny bit worse as a result. The band had been mainstays of the Newcastle scene for a good few years, having dissolved their previous incarnation and waded their way through gallons of record label shite before their debut album finally emerged in 2007, sounding far sharper and fresher than it had any right to given the slog they had endured to just get the thing made. Sadly Not Enough Night would prove to be Kubichek’s only album, a tantalising case of what might have been, but, God, what a beautiful corpse to leave.

The most enriching thing about Not Enough Night is the unrelenting pace at which the whole thing is delivered. For the majority of its forty or so minutes, the album is lived out at breakneck speed with both barrels aimed at pretty much everyone, from lairy Bigg Market meatheads (‘Taxi’) to “poetic friends” who “just wanna get their ends away” (‘Stutter’). Then you have ‘Hometown Strategies’ in which some poor small-towner is indignantly berated about being “too clever by half and too stupid to notice”. And don’t even get me started on the near-perfect headrush of album closer ‘Just Shut it Down’...

In less skilled hands the seemingly endless stream of spiky guitars and universal spitefulness could quite conceivably become tiresome, but there’s never really a danger of this occurring with Not Enough Night, simply because the sheer unadulterated energy it transmits is just so fucking primal that you can’t really stop yourself wanting to jump around your room shouting, or slam your foot as hard as you can on the accelerator.

While Not Enough Night’s primary function is unquestionably served as an arse-kicking rock record, there’s another interesting element to the album too, a more wide-eyed sense of feeling which only really rears its head on the odd occasions when singer Alan McDonald drops his snarl and the band gets lost in a gorgeous sea of instrumental bliss as it does on ‘Hope is Impossible’ and ‘Start as We Meant To’. This nod to the band’s very earliest recordings means that Not Enough Night appeals not only to the feet and loins but to the heart and head too. This extra dimension is a big factor in the album’s enduring appeal, to the point that it still finds as regular a home on my stereo as it did three and a bit years ago.