There Is No Sun

Jay Reatard’s biography paints the portray of a truly outstanding musician. In paper, he’s someone I’d love without further questions: he started a seminal punk band, he had never been shy about taking different roads when it came to his other musical projects, he even has his own label (hence he probably helps a lot of new artists). It’s all pink ponies and rainbows up to now, right? Yet, whenever I try to listen to one of his songs, I feel the instant desire to press next and delete it from my music folder. His new album, ‘Watch Me Fall’, isn’t much of an exception to the rule.

The usual talk about a lack of variation seems appropriate. Just that Jay takes it to a whole new level. Yes, we understand you’re a (garage) punk musician, but it’s one chord per song, not one chord per album. The drums, the guitars that sound as if taken from a computer game (what is it with bands and pc games these day?), his voice (oh, I dread the thought of hearing that squeaky voice live), everything sounds the same from one song to the other. Sure, he sometimes adds a feedback or two. A wee feedback that is anyways placed towards the end of the song. Yes, the end you never get to because you’ve already pressed ‘next’.

I would like to point out that one might be fooled after the first four tracks (and if you get passed them, I feel the need to congratulate you). ‘I’m Watching You’ has less of that in-your-face spiky punk and a little more hey-Sebadoh-are-rad lo-fi and his voice isn’t that annoying. And it might actually creep its way into a music player or two. But then you fall in the same ‘hey, let me show you how punk I am’ pit. And a bottomless pit it is. The second track that’s somewhat worth it is the closing one, ‘There Is No Sun’, with its shoegaze vibe that makes it actually strangely enjoyable.

Unfortunatly, two tracks on a twelve-songs album of an artist that should be a music marvel doesn’t really cut it for me. I’m sorry, Jay, maybe next time.

Don't Wanna Touch The Sky

When you first hear Jamie T's songs, you just feel good. At first sight they're the most full of joy songs you've heard in your life. Let's dance, baby, let's forget about all of our problems. But you can't dance forever; and, at a certain moment, you just sit down and listen. And then it comes. Straight in your face. Jamie T's songs are not about happiness. With some kind of a cruel sense of humour, he just hits you in the most sensitive spots you have. And the music continues to sound joyful, but now you know.

I must admit it happened to me too, at the first listening. I'd say it was one of the strangest musical experiences I had. And all of this helped me when I was about to listen Jamie's new song, Chaka Demus, from his forthcoming album Kings and Queens.

If you’re not aware about what hides in Jamie's mind, you might think "Oh wow, look how nice, and happy, and full of colour, and full of life this track is!" Of course, you’d be wrong. It's true; the instrumental seems to be made especially for a song called "Life is so easy, everything it will be so good, in Lord we trust". There's a very energetic drum line, with some energetic guitar riffs to back it up. Count in the backing vocals... and the world is a happy place to live in.

And then the lyrics come, as a punch in your stomach, as a cold shower, as a bitter pill. There's nothing about dreams or hopes there, there's no will to change anything, as things never change, or maybe they do, but for the worse. You just have to pretend you don't feel anything, you don't mind anything and you're okay with everything. And smile. "Who made the suns turn to stormy weather?" is the main question of the song, the question that never gets an answer. Why should it get one? It's useless. It doesn't matter. Just keep your voice casual, a little childish, like nothing happened, like nothing happens, and tell your story like you don't care.

If you like this kind of contrast between lyrics and instrumental, you should listen to this song. If you're a fan of British alternative scene, you should listen to this song... No, in fact, you should just listen to this song. And dance, and pretend you forgot about all of your problems.

*photo courtesy of Jamie T's official site

Some Covers Are Better Than Others

Sure, these are rather subjective lists as one can't remember/know all the covers out there. Also, none include 'Hallelujah'. Enough is enough.

Some covers that should’ve never been done

1. Placebo – Five Years (David Bowie)

It’s just one pile of ‘no’. Molko’s voice is too high, it sounds like a one year-old is playing some random chords on an acoustic guitar . And there seems to be no feeling put into this song.

2. Adele – Last Night (The Strokes)

Remember why everyone loved The Strokes? Well, Adele takes it all away. That ‘I-don’t-give-a-damn’ vibe is gone. It’s like her piano and her soft voice took all the edge of the song away.

3. Leona Lewis – Run (Snow Patrol)

Really, why? Just…Why? It used to be one of Snow Patrol’s good songs. A good pop song. Now it’s a cheesy pop ballad.

4. Scarlet Johansson’s entire album.

So, you really hate Tom Waits, don’t you, Scarlet ?

5. Nouvelle Vague – God Save The Queen (Sex Pistols)

They do to this song what Adele does to ‘Last Night’: take away all the anger, edge…well, everything that essentially made it the anthem of a generation.

Some covers that would make the original artist proud

1. Placebo – Running Up That Hill (Kate Bush)

The original is a good piece of art. Placebo took the song, stripped it of any (unnecessary) artsy elements and enhanced the dreamy state of this song via keyboards. The (almost) simple instrumental makes the lyrics more poignant and the end result is bound to make your eyes tear at least a bit (that is, if you have any soul). The live version also leaves a hole in your stomach.

2. Manic Street Preachers – Vision Blured (The Horrors)

Sure, we don’t know the original, but who cares? This is no longer just a cover. It’s a kick in the head. It actually feels like this rendition is a song originally written for The Holy Bible. It’s like Killing Joke decided to cover The Shangri-Las. And, besides the dirty sound, Manics also helped everyone remember how catchy Faris Badwan’s lyrics actually are.

3. LCD Soundsystem/The Horrors – No Love Lost (Joy Division)

Joy Division’s song is somewhere between two worlds. On one hand, it’s a dark wave wonder. On the other, the chorus (especially the ‘I need it’ part) makes it a true anthem. Like many artists who cover Joy Division , LCD and The Horrors work on one element of the song (the one closer to their musical personas). James Murphy takes the idea of ‘anthem’ and turns it into a massive electro one. The song also does what Murphy's back catalogue has done before: it conveys a bittersweet feel that makes the song infectious. The Horrors take ‘No Love Lost’ deeper into the ‘darkness’: Faris Badwan’s deep voice, the distortion, everything enhances the edge of the original.

4. The Enemy – Hung Up (Madonna)

Sure, The Enemy are just another indie-by-numbers band. But, God, did they do a number with this cover. It’s acoustic and it has this big pounding heart. It makes even a Madonna hater sing along. Hats off to the guys for this.

5. The Black Keys – Have Love Will Travel (The Sonics)

There’s not much to say about this. It’s basically what The Black Keys do: a mix of garage punk and blues. But it’s so good, there is so much heart here, you actually forget this is a mere cover and not one of their own songs.

Worth mentioning:

Nicky Wire – Everything Fades’ ending

‘Everything Fades’ is the last track off Wire’s solo effort ‘I Killed The Zeitgeist’. Like the rest of the album, it’s a bittersweet, endearing, honest indie song. But what makes it all too hard to bear is the last minute or so of the song when Wire veers into a short Madonna moment. He doesn’t go further then ‘Like a prayer, I can hear you calling’, but his tone deaf drone voice, the electric acoustic guitar and, most important, the moment you realise how heartfelt that line can be (and that Madonna can be, at times, a brilliant lyricist) make one of the best moments in music history.

If they bleed, we dry

I find heavy distorts and feedbacks sexy. A well pronounced ‘r’ is even better. The Twilight Sad never fail to make me a little too happy. See, they have both. They are the kind of band that require a good system and some solid windows.

Their new song, ‘I Became A Prostitute’, starts off as another pile of angry noise. Admittingly, the guitar does calm down during the stanzas, leaving the bass and voice to creep into your soul. But then James Graham sings his ‘If we bleed you dry’ bit right before the chorus and the drums start surfacing and stand alone for a brief moment only to clear the scene for the beginning of more noise. And it booms into an almost cathartic chorus that mixes an unbelievably catchy and melodic tune with My-Bloody-Valentine-like-heavy distortion. This combined with the lyrics (that are about the typical fall from grace), the dark atmosphere generated by all the sounds put together and Graham’s vocals are bound to hit you in your solar plexus and bring out emotions that will linger more than the feedbacks.

She Talks Too Much In Maths

To cover a song is such a difficult job for an artist. Of course it's an interesting experience to make people hear another interpretation of their favourite songs (at least that's what I think). But, and especially if it's a very well known song, eventually people will start to compare your version with the original. And I must say that usually the original version of the song wins. That's the way it is and it can't be changed. Anyway, sometimes the cover version is at least as good as the original, if not better. Tainted Love, the cover Marilyn Manson made after Soft Cell's song, or Placebo's Running Up That Hill (sang originally by Kate Bush) stand as proof.

That's why I am always interested to hear covers. And that's why I decided to listen to Eliza Lumley's covers of Radiohead's songs. I knew already, even before listening to her, that she was either praised or criticised for these versions – and I became really curious, asking myself how I would react. I'm not much of a Radiohead fan, I don't know all of their songs, I haven't listened to all of their albums, but I love the songs I listened to up until now, and I love Thom Yorke's voice. That made me even more impatient.

Among the songs I listened to were Karma Police, Street Spirit, How To Disappear Completely and Let Down – four of the most beautiful songs Radiohead have. Eliza Lumley sings accompanied by piano (which does an excellent job). She has a pure, high and clear voice, and she sings perfectly. Now probably you'd expect me to say that she's just wonderful and she is one of the artists who make cover versions as good as the original. Well, no. Even if it seems she has all the advantages on her side, she completely fails.

And if you want to know why, well, the answer is simple. Her covers are just too perfect. Preoccupied with singing as well as possible, Lumley completely forgets to put some feelings in her voice, she sings like she would resolve some math problems, coldly and cerebrally (actually the title of her album is She Talks In Maths, and now that I listened to her songs, I find it very ironical). I must say that this is the first time I have listened to Street Spirit without feeling the need to cry. Don’t get me wrong. The girl is not bad; I already said before that her voice is good. But music is not only about how well you sing, just like painting is not only about how well you draw. Music (and not only music, but all that means art) is about how you feel and about how you make the others feel. As far as I'm concerned, Mary Had a Little Lamb sang by a four year old kid is much more impressive than Lumley's so called perfect songs.

And now back to Radiohead.

All The Right Places

This is rather of a two bands in one go thing as I usually find it hard to love (well, ok, obsess about) just one song at the time. My tracks of the day/week/etc. vary from the old and hidden gems of b-side land to the next big thing (I just had to use that expression). So, let’s get down to business, as one might say.

Magistrates – Heartbreak

I was zapping the TV channels one night and, for a reason or another, I stopped at MTV. Which, as someone noticed, is turning into a really elitist music channel. So ‘indie’ is a must. Preferably for a whole hour with no reason whatsoever. And there they were. Four guys with instruments and an 80s-inspired song. Nothing new, right? Yet, I loved every chord and every word. And the way they look. I’ve realized that, no matter how many bands walk around pretending they’re Brett Anderson (hence sexually ambiguous) and wear skinny jeans, winkle pickles and large sweaters, I still think they look too cool for words.

I guess Magistrates’ ‘Heartbreak’ is a classic exemple of a bloody catchy tune. It’s a perfect pop song, even though it might not seem incredibly original or unique. But the voice fits the instrumental (the oh-so-sexy instrumental) so well and is even heartbreaking (oh, isn’t it funny?) at times. It also has this weird tempo and a groovy white kids funk beat that would make Talking Heads proud that the band lists them as influences. It’s safe to say the song serves its purpose perfectly. It creeps inside your head slowly and steadily and gets you hooked. And I have to admit, it made me dance and sing along like few songs have been able to do recently. No wonder I’ve had it on repeat for the past few days.

Manchester Orchestra – I’ve Got Friends

What I’m going to say just goes to prove anything can help you discover new bands. Well, sort of anything. After all, you can’t really say Euronews’ Le Mag is just a random thing. It is about art, hence music. And it wasn’t exactly a new band I saw on Le Mag. See, two Manchester Orchestra albums have been lying in my music folder for what might seem ages. I never got myself to actually listen to them because of the ‘indie band’ tag and because they were American. So I sort of expected something in the vein of folk indie. The beards didn’t really help.

Alas, I was mistaken! For their beards exist so they could stroke them when they listen to the end result of their work. The intro caught my attention due to the striking resemblance with … well, Idiot Pilot. Which is a bit weird because Idiot Pilot go around being called a ‘post-hardcore’ band (with some prog-rock and very Muse-y moments… but post-hardcore). The voice (which reminds me a bit of Band Of Horses) kicks in and it’s all melodic and fine and mellow so you think ‘will he shout and scream during the chorus?’. No, not really. Well, actually a bit towards the end when the instrumental also goes insane and all multi-layered (with the little progressive chords as the first layer… hey, this is atmospheric!). And you can almost imagine the veins on his throat popping. And the rocker in you feels like they should maybe head bang a little. And when you reach minute 4:57, you just press play again.

We watch things on VCR

Many people keep saying they’d expected some heavy feedback from the four 19 year-old Londoners of The XX and all this because of their black attire and goth kids look. Goth kids? That made me raise an eyebrow. For The XX gave me the impression of being a rave band that had their clothes dipped in black paint.

Their debut album, simply titled "XX", doesn’t really give you a different vibe. It actually makes you feel like a bunch of shoegazers where asked to write a R&B album. Yes, they state a variety of artist coming from extremely different genres as their influences and this, surprisingly, makes for a unique work of art. The only song that blatantly shows its influences is “Infinity” and its “Wicked Game” guitar. Which anyways falls somewhere in the second half into some early 90s rave beat (a beat that is incredibly familiar, yet you can’t say where you’ve heard it before). But besides this one, everything seems like it’s just been invented. It’s so dreamy, so atmospheric, so dancefloor-worthy, so minimal and stripped of any thing that might hide the sexual vibe of the vocals.

Truly the vocals are crucial to this album. Like in the case of shoegaze, they seem to be used as an instrument. Only now, every effect (especially the reverbs) is used to underline the vocals of the two singers, bass player Oliver Sim and guitarist Romy Madley Craft. There’s this feeling of fatigue (somewhere along the lines of The Saturdays and Mazzy Star) and utter boredom that makes the songs undeniably sexual and that would make any soul band blush. They even make good rivals for mainstream pop bands. On “Islands”, for instance, one can be fooled for a moment or two that this is a Sugababes song. But the again, “Shelter” could be the best almost post-rock song ever written.

However, the lyrics sometimes make you wonder why would anyone want to accentuate the vocal bits in any way. “VCR”’s opening line “You used to have all the answers and you still have the too” is rather cringe worthy. But where they lack lyrical talent, they compensate in terms of beat, vocal technique or concept. So maybe NME knew a thing or two when they placed The XX at number 6 in their Future 50 2009 list.

*photo courtsey of Rough Trade Shops

Humbug? Not Really

When I was asked if I'd like to write about the new Arctic Monkeys release, I agreed, even though they weren't one of the bands I was listening every day. Actually, all I had listened was Fluorescent Adolescent and that song with that wonderful, impressive video, called Leave Before the Lights Come On. But I enjoy challenges. And I'm open to new bands and new sounds. Actually that's how I discovered many of my current favourite bands. That's why I said yes.

I must admit the first two albums made me really curious. The refreshing sound of Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not (which reminded me a bit about The Libertines), the sophisticated sound of Favourite Worst Nightmare, both combined with some damn smart lyrics, made me ask myself "Okay, what's next?" "Next" was Humbug. "Well, let's hope this title is just a joke."

The journey started with My Propeller. A sound which seems to be even more elaborated that the one of Favourite Worst Nightmare (lead guitar and bass are thrilling), and a voice that seems warmer and, somehow, more calm. Definitely good. Yeah, good, but Crying Lightning, the following song, is fascinating. It was love at first listening for me. At second listening, it already became passion. A tempo which rises gradually and practically explodes in the chorus. Good choice for a first single, I'd say.

Pleased by the beginning, I considered that I should pass to the next song. Dangerous Animals captivated me, not only with the powerful and interesting instrumental, but also with the dark lyrics. The part with "A-N-I-M-A-L-S" and "D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S" is a bit annoying and repetitive though; but still, the song is good. Secret Door oscillates between a slow and a fast tempo. Not that bad, but certainly it doesn't seem that fascinating as the first songs. However, I enjoyed the slow part of the song and also the lyrics. The next track, Potion Approaching, reminds a bit of the band's first release, not only because of the instrumental, but also because of Alex Turner's voice, which seems to be a little higher on this song. This impression lost its strength somewhere toward the song's end, where the tempo slowed down. The lyrical part seemed to be the classic love triangle "I-do-not-want-her-I-want-you"; but Turner has an interesting way to say it, I must admit that.

I was waiting impatiently for the following song, Fire And the Thud, as I knew that Allison "VV" Mosshart from The Kills is backing vocal on it. The song is quite slow, maybe the slowest song on this album. The instrumental is based on the main guitar and on drums, and it becomes more powerful towards the end; however, at the end of the song it slows down again. Interesting. Cornerstone has an elaborated and (somehow) nostalgic instrumental, sustained strongly by the lyrical content. Another song I truly liked; I will probably play it on repeat. That's also the case with Dance Little Liar, a fascinating tune, which hypnotises with its guitar riffs and powerful drum line. Nothing better than a good instrumental sustained by good lyrics.

Pretty Visitors is another song that is reminiscent of Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. Same kind of "in-your-face-babies-it-is-time-to-wake-up" instrumental, with some nap pauses, sustained by organ. Nostalgia might send you somewhere in 2006, but the last song, The Jeweller's Hands brings you back just in time to let you enjoy the last 5 minutes and 42 seconds from this album. Another diversified, solid instrumental, the end of the fascinating journey I've had listening Humbug. "If you've a lesson to teach me, I'm listening, ready to learn", Turner sings, and I guess that was exactly my thought before I had this, let's call it, mission to write about this album. Now I can say that I won't stop listening. And that's because I liked what I've heard.

On short, the sound of Humbug is even more elaborated than the one from Favourite Worst Nightmare. And some, who'll miss for sure the energy from the debut album, could consider this a real humbug. On the other hand, some of you may consider that this album is nothing but a proof that Arctic Monkeys started to grow old, musically speaking.

*photo courtesy of Arctic Monkeys' official site

Good Disco

You listen, no, rather experience, the first single of the new album ‘Temporary Pleasure’ from Simian Mobile Disco and 'Audacity of huge' instantly becomes an addiction because it’s so mind-boggling in too many ways. It is catchy, rhythmic, witty and totally bloody stylish. The fact that is also an amazing high class vocabulary display supporting a theme of love puppy depression, that’s a whole separate dwelling. So naturally you want more, you yearn for the album, of what is behind or together with that song and what you get is: a good album! A nice blending of melodies with an incredible variation of beats, blended smoothly with different voices, most notably Chris Keating ( from Yeasayer), Alexis Taylor ( from Hot Chip) and the girls from Telepathe. Great choices for the rest of featurings, but no strong impression. And no not even the one with Beth Ditto - I love that woman but kind of same soufflé different day.

‘Temporary pleasure’ is supposed to be a journey like all albums of such instrumentation and on basic level it clearly succeeds. The first track ‘Cream Dream’ is a rather good product but, yes there is a ‘but’: it reminds me of something ‘The Breakfast Club’ soundtrack like, and not in a good way because of that awful vocal timbre – ih! I don’t like it and it’s annoying!

Further drawn into ‘Audacity of huge’ where you thank your daddy for purchasing a sound system and a subwoofer along with it (like it was made for that song alone) and you turn to high volume and abuse the song! And yet they made the terrible mistake of letting some idiot make a video for the song with the catastrophic mistake where lyrics are explained. Yes, they are a witty and elevated combination but you do not explain to the monkey that the new bananas are artificially grown when she will notice the different taste, but you rather let her enjoy the new change of flavor.

Pulled rapidly in ‘10000 horses can’t be wrong’, you thank your daddy again! A self supported melody with perfect professional coordination of instruments, so club worthy – and one where I would actually go!

‘Cruel intentions’ is suppose to be the next best hype of the album (indeed, love can be a meaningless emotion); it barely is one because the negative does blend with Beth quite nicely but the outcome somehow doesn’t pull it off. Still after it does convince you that ‘Cruel Intentions’ is a decent track, it turns you rather 180 degrees and introduces you into the high speed frenzy of ‘Off the map’. Off the map into the hole of being just another track with all too familiar formula of mediocre sound sprinkled with an additional edgy beat – sorry, it just doesn’t cut it for me. How could it?!

The level continues with ‘Synthesize’. Still, a slightly change and a new prophetic like voice sample. It then retraces the path (that forceless you follow, and good for you) to the club worthy atmosphere, this time of ‘Bad Blood’ – a state of mind masterpiece of surreal mystic lift up. But next it pulls the rug out from under feet and introduces you to the ‘Turn Up Dial’. Cute, but it reminds me of LL Cool J featuring for some lady with big ass not worth mentioning – so no, no thank you!

Redirects once more to a whole new path of ‘Ambulance’, a song with a cryptic sound, feels exactly what probably is: an experiment that was considered to be a song. Well, no! Pointless little thing is the step to the last track ‘Pinball’. This track features the vocal cords – a musical thrill of the beautiful duo from Telepathe. What comes out is an incredibly well sound survey of sexual teasing, a reverberation wrapped in the duo’s voices that do deliver in sense and feeling. Together with ‘Bad Blood’ , ‘Pinball’ stands as part of that group of songs that represent pure musical masturbation, soundtrack for of course social masturbation, hallelujah!

After all these being written and leaving aside the little slips regarding some tracks, these 2 boys from Simian Mobile Disco ( the boys know their tools, no doubt there), they do deserve the warmest round of applause for the construction of this musical journey.

Bravo!

*photo courtesy of Simian Mobile Disco's official site

They could take the US, take the world

I remember the year 2001. First time that I could somewhat say, in the words of James Murphy, ‘I was there’. Yes, there when The Strokes were still constantly drunk, The Hives had never thought of working with Timbaland and The Vines were loved by the NME (sure, I was in front of a TV, in my living-room, not backstage or something). And then there were these guys, BRMC in short.

To the 13 year-old me, they were a blast (21 year-old me can’t say things are any different). Fuckin’ orgasm. It was because of this band I first heard of Jesus and Mary Chain and Spacemen 3. And, of course, there was THE song.

“I fell in love with the sweet sensation
I gave my heart to a simple chord
I gave my soul to a new religion”.

Those layers, that build-up, that feedback in the end. Oh, I didn’t know these things then and it didn’t matter. I just turned the volume up loud and gently tapped my foot to the ground. It was all that mattered. It IS all that matters. In hindsight, the song is still a blast. Honestly, it should be in any top 50 best songs of all times.

But BRMC seem to me like such an underrated band. I personally know some people who like them, but no fans. As a Manics fan, I complain there are no Manics fans around but I know at least four and people in general keep talking about them. But there’s this silence around BRMC. A few years ago I would’ve said ‘Maybe it’s the country I live in’. But now we keep raving about how our indie scene is flourishing. And people know ‘indie’ bands and all the jazz …

So I guess it’s safe to say BRMC are still somewhat of a neglected band. When they shouldn't be! They make up for all the White Lies and La Roux’s of the world. And all they need to prove it is one song. The song I heard back in the day. ‘Whatever Happened To My Rock’n’roll’. And now, whenever I hear it (this and someother songs), I think about those days when so many things simply didn't matter. And about how I should already pick up that guitar and learn how to play it so I too could write tunes like this. Or at least try.

This Is Our Decision (?)

It happened some days ago. Or weeks. Actually, I think it was a couple of months ago, whatever, that doesn't actually matter. Please, please, don't ask me when – I don't even remember what I did yesterday.

So, I was in my (small) living room, watching VH1, as this is the only music channel where you can actually listen to music and not to some stupid crap, as the stuff they play on MassesTeleVision – if you know what I mean. And suddenly I've heard something. It was, well, you're not gonna believe it (just kidding)... a song.

"That sounds good actually", I thought. "It looks even better. Nice body" (...okay, let's ignore that, we're talking about music here). The "nice body" (a.k.a. Andrew VanWyngarden, but that was something that I was going to find out later) was singing about something that could be resumed as it follows: "how-to-live-your-life-at-its-best-and-to-do-what-you-want-to-do-in-ten-simple-steps". Or "how-to-be-a-star-and-screw-your-mind-and-body-and-throw-your-friends-away-in-ten-simple-steps". Both of them in the same song.

That was enough to make me look at the TV screen with just one thought on my mind: "What is the name of this wonderful, great, and beautiful band?" And, because fate is always kind with patient people (or that's what I like to think), I found out. They were MGMT, the song was Time to Pretend. And, from that day on, it became one of my favourite songs. And my current obsession.

It's beautiful. It's ironical and sad. It's about dreams and about lies, about love and about sex, about drugs and about family. It's about life and death. About how much you win by being famous… and about how much you lose. But it's your own decision ("To live fast and die young")... or maybe not ("There is really nothing, nothing we can do"). Is it about fate or is it about choice? One cannot tell. I cannot tell.

But I can tell for sure that this is a gorgeous song. And a gorgeous band. And a gorgeous Andr... ok, never mind.

About fans and rock bands

I’ve recently attended an Editors gig. Perhaps the band is irrelevant. I just felt like mentioning it. The gig was ok, in case you were wondering. Yes, ok. Thing is, after the gig, I posted a little innocent comment on Lastfm about how it was ok but there was something missing and how it was a pain in the ass to wait around for three hours not knowing when the gig was going to start. And I realised there are way too many people out there who think one should go to a gig after 9 pm (no matter what the ticket says). In what universe?

And then it struck me why the gig was just ok. There was no build-up before the actual concert. And I’m not talking about the warm-up music, opening-act blabla yadda yadda. No. I’m talking about the fans. See, I’m used to fanaticism. As someone once told me: ‘I was raised to believe that obsessing about your favourite rock bands is the only acceptable way’. And this includes concerts.

I have a small ritual before each gig. I triple-check the entry hour and the hour at which it’s supposed to start. I change a billion outfits in order to find the one that’s comfy enough, hip enough and includes pockets. I make sure everything I need fits in my tiny bag. And, naturally, I go to the concert venue some three hours before. Why? Cause it’s fun! It makes me incredibly happy sitting in a queue (or not) with a bunch of other fans who also want to hump the fence. It gives me chills when I hear the sound check. There is nothing in the world like that feeling I get when I see they’re letting us in and I know I’ll be front row (even if I have to kill a bunch of innocents). This is how all fans should behave. Otherwise, you cannot be considered a fan. And I for one will find the gig lame, boring, no fun. Or just ok, like the Editors gig. Because there were no signs of fanaticism before the actual gig. So maybe the band can’t make people feel that way. Or the fans are just not … fans. Real, hardcore ones. Either ways, it ruins the whole gig. We need the whole package.

Just to make it clear. Editors were great. During the concert, there was a great vibe. The audience was clearly enjoying every moment. Well, us people in the front rows. I can’t guarantee for the people in the back. But there was nothing before. No blood, sweat or tears (my sweat, other people’s blood and tears) were spilled so that people would get as close to the stage as possible. Most people turned up after 8 pm. There were chairs so there was this chillin’ in a backyard vibe. The venue was in a park so some though a walk (or a beer or a swing in the playground) would be a better idea than waiting inside the venue. And I didn’t feel like I was attending a concert!

And, in all honesty, beside all the things that get me off, there’s this thing called respect. For the bands playing and the people organizing the whole thing. You own it to them to be there in time. And, hey, let’s face it. The majority of bands starts playing at the time specified on the ticket/posters/etc. Because they too tend to respect the crowd and/or think some might depend on at least the last bus/tram/tube. That is, if they have any decency.

Placebo – Ashtray Heart (directed by Robert Chandler)

I must say that I was very disappointed when the guys from Placebo announced that the single for Europe (excepting UK and Norway) & the rest of the world (holy macaroni, Europe and the rest, now how does that sounds?) will be Ashtray Heart. I mean, c'mon. I won't hide that from you – au contraire, I will admit to it. I don't like the song. Yeah, I know it's great for dancing and singing and yelling and whatever at a live concert. I mean, I experienced it myself. But that's it. No video for this one, no, no.

Well, that was their decision, not mine.

So, what does a fan do when that happens (that meaning something like "oh-my-God-how-could-they-ever-thought-of-that-song-I-hate-this-rawr")? There are two options. One: you refuse to watch that video and hope that next time maybe they will choose something better. Or two: you start thinking that maybe it is not that bad, and "hey, there's actually a good part, I'll see two videos from my favourite band, yaaaay!" Which is what I did – I am a very optimistic person, you know.

So the day came and I finally got to see that video. I had already watched the making of, so I kinda knew what to expect. The guys were there, with the green screen in the background (so I knew something was supposed to be put there later – actually, that was also said on the official site, quote: the kaleidoscopic and effervescent video contains state-of-the-art data-moshing techniques that combine to produce spectacular results - that sounded good, huh?). Oh, and Brian in a black outfit with his looooooooong hair (I hate that pony tail; thank God he doesn't wear his hair like that in videos!)

After I watched the video, I remembered that quote from before. Kaleidoscopic? Sure as hell, baby!

It's all about colours, colours, colours… and Brian Molko (of course, Stefan Olsdal and Steve Forrest are there too, but, as this is the first song wrote entirely by Brian, he has to stand out. Something like "Look what I did, isn't that cool?"). There's no story line. You just watch the movements; watch the colours changing from red to blue and then to black and white, and then "hold your breath and count to ten, fall apart and start again", as Molko himself stated in English Summer Rain. When I saw this video I thought someone had played with Photoshop. And did a good work, good enough to make me forget that I don't like (and that's a kind term) this song. Good enough to make Brian look like he is 25 and not, well, almost 36. Or maybe is it just me and my Molko-mania?

Some of you might not like the, uhm, the "state-of-the-art data-moshing techniques" from this one. You might have the impression that it's too much (colour/Brian, one of these two) and too boring (switching colours for three minutes and thirty seconds??? Pleaseeeeee...). But I will definitely watch this video again. I'm willing to forgive even that cenicero, cenicero thing. It's not my favourite Placebo video – that's for sure. But it is a nice one.

A short manifesto

No Wave was an art movement. No Wave is now a sort of music journal. The people who are part of this are tired of the music magazines in their country. Music magazines that are pointless, that have no substance or style. These few people are music fanatics. They are interested in the way music affects us all on every level of the everyday life. And they want to make a difference.