We've mentioned the Monochrome Set before; partially, wordlessly, or tangentially to other points. But we've never gone into any real depth on the unsung post-punk pop combo and there's no time like the present. It also gives me a chance to dust off the ol' Works in Progress feature, diffusing its specious neglect suit against us in the bargain.

The Monochrome Set rose from the ashes of a collegiate group called the B-Sides, that also included the future Adam Ant (called Stuart Godard with eyes unlined). Singer Bid and guitarist Lester Square also fled for more fanciful monikers, having been born Ganesh Seshadri and Thomas Hardy, respectively. Drummer John Haney bravely stood pat, and a revolving door bassist policy makes it hard to parse the nomenclature there. Like alot of post-punk bands littering London at the time, the Monochrome Set fancied themselves some sort of smart guys, though their mocking tone and playfully funny compositions let any residual pretension go down smooth.

One of their signature tunes is the self-mythologizing "the Monochrome Set," later gaining the clever "(I Presume)" allusion when included on their first, and I'd claim best, album Strange Boutique. It's always a risky proposition to name a single after yourself. If it falls flat, the embarrassment is more potent because it's harder to generate distance from it. There will be no doubt in the minds of your detractors that you are intrinsically bad, because they listened to your bloody theme song! Rest assured, dear readers that the MS approved "MS" is more "Tallulah Gosh" than "In a Big Country" quality-wise.

the Monochrome Set - "the Monochrome Set" (7" single)

the Monochrome Set - "the Monochrome Set (I Presume)"

The 1979 Rough Trade single version of this song puts its lurching, hopping rhythm first. It possesses a loose, slightly wild feel at odds with the hyper-cultivated boasts of its lyrics. The jangly guitar, always the hallmark of an indie-pop song, is muted, sounding like an echo bleeding in from another room of the recording studio. Bid's showy language is silly in a very British way, its insulting essence tempered by foppish rhymes ("I'm adorable, you're deplorable," "I entertain your tiny brain, so spuriously" etc.). The gang shouts add some enthusiasm, an odd Russian radio signals amps up the lovable inscrutability. The song's rough edges are winning enough that I wouldn't feel a production void if I'd never heard a different version, but since I have...

As heard on Strange Boutique, "The Monochrome Set (I Presume)" is even more beat dominated, exponentially so. A jungle beat (and, for kicks, jungle sound effects) dominates the song's first half. The guitar line is more clearly recorded, gracefully snaking through the din. Two and a half minutes in, when Bid finally fights through enough foliage to get to his microphone, his dapper dandy persona is much more composed than ol' H.M. Stanley's was when he stumbled from the brush. The sloppy gang shouting has been reduced to laser-precise bursts, that oddly choose "the" as a key point for emphasis. The wit is perhaps enhanced by sounding like the work of actually accomplished performers and not amateurish punks having a laugh. Elitism demands at least an illusion of being among the upper crust, you see. It's a pretty perfect snob anthem in this perfected form.

Works in Progress is where we look at the evolution of songs by comparing and contrasting their various stages of being. It pops up now and again when you least expect it.

Previous Works in Progress Columns:

- Radiohead/ Television Personalities
- the Glove
- Xiu Xiu
- Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
- Arcade Fire
- the Velvet Underground/ Lou Reed
- Revl9n
- Unicorns/ Handsome Furs

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

the Unicorns - "2014" (demo)
the Unicorns - "the Unicorns: 2014"

The 2004 release of what turned out to be the Unicorns final single was, at the time, met with a hearty shrug. Aside from rumors of unrest, however, we had no real knowledge that this would be the last offering from the much too brief tenure of Montreal's first real buzz band of the decade. So, knowing what we do now, it seems we should afford the sad unloved "2014" with the attention that a final recording deserves.

The demo version starts with an uber cheap Casio sound, that is A:like particularly manic video game music, and B: catchy as all hell. Then the dynamic duo of Penner and Diamonds come in, shout singing in harmony, tossing off their typically amusing non-sequiturs with a quasi dystopian bent. The most appealing thing about the Unicorns' music was the sense of restless unpredictability. How they would get bored with a memorable refrain, discarding it as soon as it stuck. In the earlier version, that admirable wanderlust actually gets them into a bit of trouble. They abandon a strong motif for a middle section that shuffles its feet for far longer than such a short song can bear. Of course, when the ghostly "dum dum dum dum dum duh duh duh" enters like a rattle snake rattle, warning of the joyous shouted "In full force" strike, not to mention the "la la la" breakdown, all is forgotten/forgiven.

The finished product features no major structural shifts, but is definitely the cleaner, more focused version (as you would hope and expect). The insidious keyboard tone sounds a bit more expensive and less 8-bit, for better or worse (I'm on the fence). The switch from enthusiastic to whispered nervous vocal delivery is a step up, however. The beloved alternating line readings from Nick and Alden are better developed as the song progresses as well. The most important upgrade though, is in that damned middle section. The aimlessness is cured with a steady beat, and some well used empty space. The quiet surroundings allow a sense of building tension as we wait for the funky key lines to finally return. The climax probably feels a touch more exuburant in the demo, but more because its prelude was worse. The finished version is dark and thick, a progression from the band's best song "Tuff Ghost" rather than the guitar based tracks that dominated Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone?. Shame we never got to see where it might have lead. Islands are OK, but when oh when will we get new songs from Alden Penner? Why are the heavens so cruel?

//the Unicorns - the Unicorns: 2014 EP buy

the Handsome Furs - "Dumb Animals" (demo)
the Handsome Furs - "Dumb Animals"

As stripped down and primal as Handsome Furs' Plague Park is, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the songs on that record were recorded extemporaneously without much tinkering. Surprisingly, the final product of "Dumb Animals" is altered and expanded a good deal, with more than two minutes added to the song's length. The quavering, in the red vocal bleating from Boeckner is tidied up, and the wailing wall of sighing moans that was the fledgling version's signature sound is entirely excised. In the end, Dan decided to go it alone. He handles it quite well, but the percussive force of the demo's fuzz-alanche is slightly missed, as is the home-y touch of the radio drama subliminally playing underneath.

The added two minutes of doom laden instrumental makes up for the "recording in a cave" charms that the studio sheen negates. In the outro, Dan shuts his primitive trap about "the miracle of electric light" and gives us an excellent death march, full of crashing cymbals, hanging reverb, and slow motion riffing. As a (bad) mood piece, the expanded version is tough to beat.

//Handsome Furs - MySpace
//Handsome Furs - Plague Park pre-order

Works in Progress is where we look at the evolution of songs by comparing and contrasting their various stages of being. It pops up now and again when you least expect it.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is an interesting one. Three years in between demo and official (scene) release, and not much has changed. But what has changed has done so in reverse fashion. It doesn't take a smart man/woman/manimal to think a band's demo will become fuller when it gets a record deal and the better studio. But it's not always the case, as we find with Revl9n's Someone Like You. Overall, the song follows the same theme and structure. It's a source of intrigue. Were the slight changes intended or a result of humans' inability to replicate sound exactly?

Revl9n - Someone Like You (single version)

This version is less urgent (read slower) than the (presumed) upcoming album version. The thing that first jumped out to me when comparing the two was the fullness of Maria Eilersen's voice in the demo. Here she seems melancholy; in the new one she seems angry. This is a pouty number. The fact that she's not with the someone like you is a cause of concern. The guitar work is muddled, thick.

Revl9n - Someone Like You (album version)

The new version has some enhanced DFA cowbells after the choral break. The guitars are more angular and crisp. Her voices is more direct, more irritated.The fact that she's not with someone like you makes her murderous. Is it the result of a environmental change or probability? Maybe the band itself doesn't even know.

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 11:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Another Satellite of love released in '72

When I launched this feature, way back when, I had intended for it to become bi-weekly. It now appears bi-whenever the Hell we decide to trot it out-ly. It was a fast, sharp decline. Mssr. Swankster has been picking up the slack for the past two editions, but I figured I best do my part to resuscitate the old girl myself. There are still infinitive songs with multiple versions out there, after all. I may be a little rusty, so I went for a pair I've listened to regularly since college, as sort of a warm up.

the Velvet Underground - "Satellite of Love" (1970 demo)

Lou Reed - "Satellite of Love"

Leftover songs from the Velvet Underground era pop up in Lou Reed's solo work for a long time after that group's dissolution. It's almost like Reed would go into every studio session saying "I had some songs lying around. They just happened to be the best ever written." Songs like "Lisa Says" or "Ocean" or even "Oh, Jin", seem understandable as revisited also rans, but "Satellite of Love," which eventually popped up on Transformer, is so undeniably catchy that it gathering dust for two years after this 1970 studio take is somewhat shocking. Actually recorded as a bass-less three piece with Doug Yule and Sterling Morrison, this session appears to be the song's only immortalized version under the VU name. After a real awkward and sentimental prelude about the moon, the familiar song plays out in slightly rougher, more jangly fashion. It's not too edgy or avant garde, just easy tuneful rock that would have easily fit into the yet to come Loaded. Lou seems more blissed out and laconic in the later recording, and more excitable here. Also, the goofy middle bridge turns kind of bad with cartoon character names inserted.

Lou's sixties work was a clear influence on Bowie's glam persona, so it makes sense that a glittered up, DB produced Lou wouldn't be sound enormously different. The words and melody remain largely intact, and the other differences are pretty clear. Bowie adds the classic Hunky Dory piano, and Mick Ronson partially saves the "Winkin', Blinkin'," part with a waddling guitar (It is also partially saved by Lou switching to the less annoying names Harry, Mark, and John). There are additional female back-up singers, credited as the Thunder Thighs, so I'd guess the "bum-bum-bum" would be coming from them. The tones are warped and sexless though, and could just as believably be Bowie and Ronson. There's no mistaking Dave at the end. Those impressively acrobatic wails are too distinctive. Lou singled that bit out for praise when penning a blurb on Bowie for Rolling Stone's Top Whatever Artists of the Somethings;

"Most people could not sing some of his melodies. He can really go for a high note. Take "Satellite of Love," on my Transformer album: There's a part at the very end, where he goes all the way up. It's fabulous."

There's something about the Bowie/Reed team up that's more interesting than Bowie's similar production and guidance on Iggy Pop's the Idiot and Lust for Life. I love those records, but you get the sense that Iggy was just a force of nature waiting to be turned in a particular direction. It could be reading too many rock books, but I imagine Lou as being much more headstrong and sure of what he was doing, whether the public got it or not. So, I imagine it must have hurt a tiny bit for him to give his sound over to these Brits and have it work so well. His relative career stagnation before Transformer must have humbled him to the point that he was really willing to take alot of input on the way things should sound. He was never so open to true collaboration again and, in my humble opinion, it was all down hill from here (although the drop off was gradual for a few years before the final plunge into Raven valley).

Previously: Retrohump: (not) the Velvet Underground

// the Velvet Underground - Peel Slowly and See buy
// the Velvet Underground - Loaded: Fully Loaded Edition buy
// Lou Reed - Transformer buy

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 06:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I just got my paperwork approved for a license to stretch metaphorical imagery! Today is my first day on the job. This post inspired by the photograph of a car above that tried to defy the Arcade Fire. It was a lesson that it will never forget.

Themes of death, childhood, and innocence by the Arcade Fire are well documented. One could argue that Funeral was a statement of condemnation towards grown-up influences polluting the pureness of that blissful nescience. Each passing year and every inevitable tragedy slowly chipping away until the child is suddenly twenty-five and completely unaware of who he or she is. "Neighborhood (Tunnels)," and "Wake Up" from that wonderful debut fall neatly in line with this discourse. So does "No Cars Go," which has the distinction of appearing before Funeral as well as after it.

Arcade Fire - "No Cars Go" (Arcade Fire EP version)

The Arcade Fire EP, re-released after the band shook the foundation of the houses of rock and roll doubters, includes the original version of this song. Reminiscent of the Funeral soundscapes, with a backbone of rolling, marching snares and the trademark “heys!” from the energetic gallery of colorful characters supporting Win Butler.

Arcade Fire - "No Cars Go" (Neon Bible version)

More pronounced strings and cleaner dynamic controls tweak the re-recorded Neon Bible version into territory occupied by Arcade Fire 2.0. Structure, lyrics and overall sound, for the most part, remain unchanged. They messed around with the levels enough to increase the dramatic effect of the horns’ volume just before they cut out and the verses begin. Completely new are the swirling woodwinds that have been injected into the bridge roughly midway through the song. A reprise from the regal 6-second intro, they get a ride in a Montreal centrifuge for recording purposes.

//Arcade Fire - s/t EP - buy
//Arcade Fire - Neon Bible - preorder
//Arcade Fire - site
//Arcade Fire - Myspace

Previous Works in Progress:

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Xiu Xiu
The Glove
Radiohead/Television Personalities

Posted by Merry Swankster at 03:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

For those of you who do not spend all day reading music blogs, the following can still be received as new news. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah announced a release date for the follow up to last year's most written about record. Some Loud Thunder will be released on 1.30.07 and will drop once again without a label backing the group. Supercharged indie backlash will be working against the group's sophomore effort. Possibly guided by the same tastemakers that allegedly put the group on the map. Furthering a comment made by Ryan on this post, I implore listeners to form their own judgements. Don't rely on subscriptions to the "cool consensus" for absolute guidance on your playlist choices. Pointless snark like this drives me batty.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Satan Said Dance (Black Session 1.31.06)

CYHSY audiences of the past year and half (which includes practically everyone who has ever seen CYHSY) should be familiar with this song. The keyboard manipulation is asylum crazy. Not crazy in the sense of extraordinary technical ability, but more the schizophrenic, acid-trip accommodating crazy. Soaring, crashing and disappearing. Notes bending and fading, much like Ounsworth's love it or hate it vocal signature, or perhaps the spooky waves of a theremin. A four on the floor bass line monotonously keeps zombie like time while guitars add to the squabble. I think its pretty great. Shout outs to the devil are fun.*

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Satan Said Dance

In less than two years CYHSY grew from demure torch bearers of the new school DIY, to the tenuous distinction of being the world's biggest unsigned band. The most pronounced evolution has been a confidence oozing from the stage that only road tested bands can own. Onstage, singer Alec Ounsworth replaced fragile skittishness with a not-quite-a-sneer snicker. Counterbalancing the sure-footedness of Ounsworth is Robbie Guertin's toddler-like, energetic stage presence. For harmony in terms of vocals, Guertin's backup input softens Ounsworth's nasal inflection on lines like "He says to me to shake around and don't stop till you hit the ground." "He," is the devil, forcing our heroes into an eternal battle-dance.

The basic structure of Some Lound Thunder's "Satan Said Dance" is kept the same from the live version. This recording keeps the neurosis level at frantic, but pulls back the meds for a full bandwidth hit of unsettling, jittery beeps. Not unlike what R2D2 would sound like if he suffered a torturous execution and laid disemboweled among an amplified plane. A more distinct guitar presence also emerges, but studio clarity may be the reason.

Alec Ounsworth - Underwater (You and Me) (Solo Demo)

Like an 80s lounge act stretching vocal tone to fit a tropical vibe, this early demo sounds like a muzak-mimicking CYHSY (circa - debut album) pining for the happy hour guests at a tacky Caribbean bar. I know what you are thinking. "Mr. Swankster, you have a mislabeled Baby Dayliner song attributed to Alec Ounsworth". Sometimes untruths say a lot, in this instance is says it all.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Underwater (You and Me)

Melody is the only thing left alone in this radical departure from the demo recording. Vocals have been pushed back and multi-layered for a choral effect. Gone are the quick strumming chords of the demo, which would have found a comfortable home on the debut disk between "Is This Love" and "In This Home on Ice". Omitted chords replaced by tambourine and shakers fill out the spatial sonics. The exclusion does not leave an empty sounding song, however. The opening invites the bassline to provide forward guidance. Right now I hear too much busy. Will have to check back in a few months to see if the listening experience evolves as much as the music did.

* Under no circumstances will there be an apology to Mötley Crüe.

Tour dates after the jump.

//Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - site
//Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Myspace

Continue reading "Works in Progress, vol. 4 - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 09:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The new Xiu Xiu album, the Air Force, was released to stores yesterday. The nature of the internet in general (and music blogs specifically) being as it is, I posted something about it way back in June. At the time I was digging a few tracks and hopeful that the rest of it would make sense to me in time. Three months later, and I've given up. Not only given up on the album, which has to be considered a bit of a disappointment, but on the idea that Jamie Stewart's vision will ever really resemble anything close to what I (and many others) want from his music. His excesses probably won't be reigned in anytime soon, and the abrasive / objectionable to lovely / catchy ratio will never be as close to 1:1 as might have seemed possible only a few years ago. In fairness, since the man obviously has alot of creative freedom, he's probably doing exactly what he wants and certainly has no obligation to shape his career towards anyone else's preferences. That said, I'll probably continue to prefer getting worked up about some of his group's earlier material.

Ten in the Swear Jar - "Sad Girl"

Xiu Xiu - "Sad Pony Guerrilla Girl"

The first version of one of Jamie's very best songs was recorded with his old time-y band, Ten in the Swear Jar, and was released in 1999 on the My Very Private Map EP (and later included in last year's Accordian Solo compilation). As performed by Swear Jar, "Sad Girl" is fast, confrontational, and dense. The prevailing mood of the titular lady is more angry than sad, shrieking for a bigger slice of affection from an adulterous family man. When the song was revisited on Xiu Xiu's 2003 album A Promise our "girl", now modified by a childish pony and made a dangerous guerilla, it was almost a completely different and more deeply affecting song than its stomping counterpart. The initial chimes are replaced by a pretty acoustic strum, the rumbling horn part given to a louder, more alien guitar. The tempo is cut probably by a third, and the track is full of brooding potential energy in comparison to its kinetic forebear. With the arrangement less busy and the tempo more deliberate, Jamie's lyrics have more of the unsettling impact for which they were designed. "Say I'm loca because I'm your girl/ say I'm estupida because I'm your girl" he pleads, at the song's start. Stewart's impassioned delivery (some would say over the top, but I'd argue that for the song's specific emotion he's hovering right at the top) and bizarre personal reputation makes the song hard to take as simple gender reversal. The idea that our protagonist is more likely a man who merely identifies as female persists without overt lyrical clues, raising the stakes for this secret love considerably.

The memorable chorus comes next but only after an eruption of percussive synths with a remarkably unusual tone. The intrusion into the tense, quiet proceedings makes the listener shell shocked (like Dirk Diggler trying to keep cool in a room with fireworks exploding at random). Nerves frayed, the lines "I like my neighborhood/ I like my gun/ Driving my little car/ I am your girl and I will protect you" come across like a threat of violence. The forceful delivery in the Swear Jar version makes it sound more like a Women's NRA mantra than a desperate delusion. Here, in the reworking, the gravity of the situation sinks in. Jamie Stewart, lipstick smeared, eyes puffy, is driving to your house with a gun because he LOVES you. Fuck!

At the 2:05 mark, following the increasingly unhinged declaration, "Go home/ Go home to your kids/ I'm NOT going to be quiet/ I'm gonna tell the whole block", the guitar base departs and the song takes a diversion into mumbles, squealing, and a pronounced slapping sound. This turn is a much riskier choice than the deliberate instrumental bridge of "Sad Girl". Initially I viewed this portion as weird for weirdness sake, and I'm sure that's why it's going to lose skeptics that have made it this far. Now, after years of listening, I think it's vitally important. The singer is muffled but vocal sounds escape, as if sneaking between the fingers of a hand. The instrumentation refuses to be as acceptably pretty as it has been, with only strings scraping for escape. The slapping makes it almost unbearable. The hint of violence that has been the most important facet of the song thus far is brought to the fore but turned against our narrator, informing the prevailing unstable mental state. After about twenty seconds of this, when you feel like you're going to have to skip the rest because it's just too much, the reassuringly beautiful guitar strum returns. A sweet breath of air for a blocked mouth.

Defiant, a captive who's just slipped his bonds, Jamie gives us the chorus again. "I like my neighborhood" (it would seem that the neighborhood must be in the love object's community). "I like my gun" (and am well versed in its use). "Driving my little car" (with forward motion towards a destination). "I am YOUR girl..." (no matter what you say), "...and I will protect you".

You do not want to know what he means by "protect".

Works in Progress is an ongoing series of posts focusing on songs in their various states of development. Early installments can now be viewed by clicking on its category sidebar on the right side of the main page.

Tags: Ten in the Swear Jar, Xiu Xiu, Works in Progress

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Part two in our ongoing series looking at songs in their various states of being. To read the previous entry, go here.

The story of the Glove goes like this...

London in 1979 was a magical place where they held Throbbing Gristle concerts at the YMCA. Robert Smith shows up to this improbable event wearing a green checkered suit. Steve Severin, bassist for Siouxsie and the Banshees, sees Smith, mocks him. The two become instant friends. They hang out, talk about poetry, ear studs, pouting, etc. Rob and the Cure tour with Siouxsie, and he fills in occasionally as an emergency Banshee. The bond of the road cemented, the boys are itching to get into a studio together to make sweet goth. "Oh, not so fast" says Friction records head Chris Parry. "Robert Smith is under contract and can only bleat for us!" Incensed, Robert Smith demands his right to sing on this new band's album! At this point, there is no band, there is no album. A back room deal is struck, allowing Smith to sing on two tracks. Now, the pissing match completed, a hypothetical album now necessary, the boys do the concscientious thing, and take loads of acid and beginning playing with sitars. Kotos, dulcimers, and drum machines are also implicated. Songs emerge. But Robbo's bound up, who's to sing? "Hey" says Banshee drum-man Budgie, "How about my girlfriend Jeanette? She's never sung before, but she's a Top of the Pops dancer!"

...and there you have it.

Lost to time and out of print for ages, the resulting record, Blue Sunshine (named for a cult movie about acid that turns a man homicidal) has finally resurfaced. Only now, we get a bit of a glimpse into what might have been as a second disc is provided made up entirely of Rob Smith's forbidden vocal takes. A rather drastic difference, perfect for our compare/contrast steez.

the Glove - "Like an Animal"

the Glove - "Like an Animal" (Robert Smith vocal demo)

This track, about a schizo lady hiding in her high rise apartment dropping things on passersby, is the first single to have emerged from the Axis of Lipgloss. It's about as dark as you might expect from a Cure/Banshees hybrid with lyrics like "Tuesday in the sun/ nothing can be worse" bandied about freely. The track stands apart from the work of those groups with more exotic psych textures and an emphasis on drum machine rhythms. For a novice, Landray holds her own. I'm sure she was understandably pegged as a temp Siouxsie upon the record's initial release, but in modern terms her high/studio treated pipes sound vaguely like those used by Asobi Seksu. Her presence lends weight to the frazzled state of the detached female protagonist, her enunciated stiffness an asset. Robert Smith's take on his own vague lyrics is more sympathetic maybe, his urging of "Couldn't we just once leave her in bed," sounding like a defense of outsiders everywhere. Of course, he's got the better vocal chops but the direct contest between the two versions is basically a wash. Forgiving a thinner backing track for the demo the difference is between the sound of a great lost Banshees track or a great lost Cure track. The personal loyalties of the listener while likely determine which is preferred.

the Glove - "Punish Me With Kisses"

the Glove - "Punish Me With Kisses" (Robert Smith vocal demo)

On "Punish Me With Kisses" the disparity in vocal quality between Landray and Smith is more pronounced. The sound and structure for both are basically identical with only slight mixing tweaks differentiating them. Both open with gurgling synths that seem to suggest Mario wracking up on coins in a bonus level. Both have big bloody keyboard washes and echoed drum strikes that immediately recall Martin Hannett's soundscapes for Joy Division. Here though, the lyrics don't benefit much from gender reversal and are much more heavy handed than "...Animal" 's. The titular image alone, to "punish" someone with kisses, points out how ridiculous the Smith/Severin lyrics can sound occasionally. Like he's trying to find anything negative he can in the simple pleasures of life. The thing is though, Smith can pull this stuff off, and Landray can't. She gives it a go for sure and as a goth museum piece it works, but her delivery is sort of monotone and not wildly expressive. Smith on the other hand inventively stretches out syllables, or adds little vocal tics in all the right places. He shifts emphasis when necessary and gives the track a human center. It's hardly a fair comparison, as he's one of the most influential (and as of the 00's, most imitated) singers of his genre, and she dated drummers and danced around on Top of the Pops.

the Glove - "Punish Me With Kisses"

Here, you see the kids in action, and still poor Jeanette's mugging is sort of overshadowed by Robby just hanging back in his bright white suit. If he'd been allowed to step into the lead as originally intended, I suspect it this material wouldn't have been shelved so long and the Glove entity might have been more than a curious footnote. So it goes.

Tags: the Glove, the Cure, Robert Smith, Siouxsie and the Banshees

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

New Feature! Got a New Feature! Look at Us! We Got a New Feature!

Obscure musical completism, once the province of only the most determined and least likely to make out among us, is easier than ever. While we used to sit around, nervously waiting for Rhino and their ilk to drop rare demos and alternate takes of material from our favorite artists in wallet murdering box set form, now a high speed modem and some free time will do just fine. So, now that we have all of this stuff, what do we do with it?

We do what any self respecting nerd would do. Dissect it within an inch of its life.

Every two weeks or so, the MS braintrust will offer up some cool songs in various states of their existence. Hopefully, this will give us all a little insight into the songwriting process, and raise a few questions along the way. If a song is better in an earlier or alternate version, does the "official" version even matter anymore in the age of consumer crafted playlists? If something obscure is widely available to all, does it lose its charm? Is there even such a thing as a definitive version of a consistently evolving entity? Dunno. Let's see.

Radiohead - "Motion Picture Soundtrack" (live, acoustic April '96)

Radiohead - "Motion Picture Soundtrack" (album version)

Radiohead, notorious for their perfectioneering, have songs that often live many lives before getting their day in the rain. A similar level of obsessive fandom makes sure that tons of bootlegged material exists in circulation. I first encountered future Kid A track "Motion Picture Soundtrack" in the grips of OK Computer dementia in the summer of '97. I sent some message board lurker five bucks and he sent me a homemade CD compilation, in a paleo-file sharing maneuver. Yes, teen smart asses, it was delivered to my house by pterodactyl. At the time, the song had been talked up in live reviews in hyperbolic terms, "Thom took to the stage alone and sang MPS, to rapidly dropping jaws. Wheel chair bound grannies took their first steps in years, and immediately began railing out against New Labour." I have to say, I was not disappointed. Lovesick and emotionally direct, it seemed like RH was about to crossover for real with this undeniable weepy.

When Kid A finally reached my hot little hands almost three years later, I admit I was initially a little appalled at what they'd done to my ballad. First of all, it was chopped in half, losing a beautiful verse and refrain. Gone was the simple acoustic guitar strum, replaced with funeral organ and later overwhelming harp. Thom's vocal was more sedate, and less sincere. They'd sacrificed one of their purest tunes, at the alter of chilly art. Looking back now, with a few hundred records more under my belt, I realize it's for the best that the boys didn't take the simpler route. I mean, there definitely is something to the original version. The axed verse is pretty strong, and a chill comes form the understated moment when Yorke changes chords and delivery on "I will see you, in the next life". Ultimately though, we didn't need Radiohead to be that band. Look no further for evidence than the fact that Coldplay was willed into the populist void only to prove how boring it all would have been. The revisions are smart too, under scrutiny. Cutting the song in half gives the "next life" line more impact by singing it only once and then floating off. The instrumentation is interesting too, with church organ and harp more evocative of the song's themes. So, even though I'm nowhere near the Radiohead fanboy I once was, I say again; OK Thom. I guess you're pretty good

Television Personalities - "King and Country" (demo version)

Television Personalities - "King and Country" (single version)

A band that are a more recent (but less current) obsession of mine are the TV Personalities. Unlike most of their end of the seventies British contemporaries, the kids favored sly self deprecating wit and observational minutiae to depict a full range of indentifiable emotions. It seemed like everyone else was just painting with gloom, righteousness, or fashion forward nihilism. Although it's true in the abstract that playing tuneful, vulnerable songs (often about the emptiness in the punk scene) to rooms full of gobbing safety pin "tough guys" was a pretty ballsy move, the band could be one of the first to be described as twee. Belle and Sebastian get alot from early TVP's I think, to give you a reference. But it turns out they could kind of slay too, as this demo for future single "King and Country" shows us.

A fuzzed out feedback rocker, not unlike the future Yo La Tengo at their least genteel, "K & C" drips venom. Playing away from their strength at narrative character studies, the emphasis is on quick riffs. Dan Treacy's childish vocals sound wasted and far away, and you get a more impressionistic sense that he's mad at something, without getting into specifics. While this is an interesting peek into another side of the group, the polished in comparison single version is hard to beat. Though cleaner in production it's always simple, never overblown. After a start similar to the demo, the vocals come in much more prominent in the mix. The structure is tightened up and brightened significantly by "ooh-ooh" back up and occasional descents into whistling. A memorable riff from late in the demo jamming is rescued and inserted into the middle of the song with a stutter step beat, keeping it fresh and progressive. The story is easier to follow as well, with young punk Dan fed up with drunk old Brits waxing nostalgic for WWII. As compared to the acidic rough cut, Danny sounds less angry but more annoyed and superior. The result is basically a perfect indie pop song.

Tags: Television Personalities, Radiohead, songwriting, demos

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)