A few images comes to mind automatically under the influence of the sweltering heat. A coke bottle sweating under the afternoon sun. The ebullience of the morning star creating dazzling constellations on the surface of swimming pools. Two spellbound lovers, identical feet glistening with summer perspiration, their clothes melting into drenched skin, their bodies casting wet shadows on the bed. Their lips become numb from iced lemonade and kisses, with impulsive excitement rolling off their capricious tongues. It is the time to be, to love and to declare. “I only wanna be with you, I only wanna be with you”, you say without much thought.
Summertime, when you’re inclined to leave the headaches, and the regrets, for later on.
You see then, how quick it was. And it is impossible to slow down this film, to examine individual frames. I see now what I saw then, flashing by with the swift, deceptive ease of an accident; a shower of gravel, windmilling arms, a hand that claws at a branch and misses. A barrage of frightened crows explodes from the underbush, cawing and dark against the sky. Cut to Henry, stepping back from the edge. Then the film flaps up in the projector and the screen goes black. Consummatum est.
Owen Pallett, formerly known as “Final Fantasy” had this to say about his original name preference:
“Final Fantasy” is far more suitable than “Owen Pallett” because “Owen Pallett” is a Welsh-y name that suggests leeks, projects and ‘I’m the only gay in Aberfynn-Weldy.’ So Final Fantasy it is“
A pretty brusque comment you would not expect from someone whose got enough pazzaz to pass off as a prince on a high horse. Owen Pallett is first and foremost a master of musical choreography, a wizard at composing great white noise (for what is greater and whiter than classical music) and a formidable loop pedal extraordinaire. His music is the perfect marriage between classical ideals and modern sensations and he cuts a fine sterling figure, looking somewhat dashing and yah, i really need to resist talking about his fringe. Its phenomenal, by the way.
So, lets talk about the music. Heartland is the first album where he sheds his “Final Fantasy” moniker, symbolically coming out of his shell, or “taking off his shirt” if you will, and stepping into the spotlight as himself. It is also a concept album, about an “ultra violent farmer” called Lewis living in the land of Spectrum, who rages battle against his creator, Owen Pallett.
Herein lies the problem with concept albums, not very relatable i know.
Like the name suggests, the music is like a destination, a place which is a “narrative mess”. Many things are happening, but it is a beautiful place nonetheless, where the vistas are adored by light, the view is panoramic and everything else is dancing to the charming winds. And in this place, the great story begins with trepidation and confusion, Midnight Directives, an overture of the protagonists’ inner struggles. From there, the narrative trickles from a myriad of conflicting emotions and sadness to a narrow stream of determination and single mindedness, as Lewis bravely chants ” I’m never gonna give it to you” while he takes off his metaphorical shirt. Then in the brightly morbid Tryst with Mephistopheles, Lewis ultimately destroys his creator, and loses his identity in the process. While the feeling of loss permeates, you are simply awestruck by the impossible grace and power of the album.
Heartland is an illustrious effort, not only does Pallett successfully make the synthesizer sound like an estranged cousin to the classical orchestra but he also manages to empower the listener with the universal themes of love and courage. Like in the Great Elsewhere, where he weds a chaotic keyboard rhythm with frightfully paced drumming, and voila! The sound of 2 trembling hearts = great, undying love indeed.
By this time, we might have been softened enough to forgive him for his fraudulent fancies, as Lewis and Owen Pallett are all but the same person, and their battle invented for the sole purpose of competing for our adulation.
But it is also here that I find the album relatable despite all odds, for in each one of us there is a fictitious character waiting to come alive ; it is our dream to be overcome by our fictional selves, so we could have a taste of the tremendous courage and love they are capable of. And in that we share the same final fantasy with Owen Pallett.
When i think about how fast paced my life is, the thought doesn’t make me happy. Many people would associate efficiency with progress; i see it as a short term measure that ultimately leads to long term degradation. For example, there was a recent period in my life, when i hopped from one cab to another, i was either at one place or the next, my destinations materializing even before my body gets used to the shift in environment, my life a flurry of different air freshener fumes and my wallet sizzling from the stress. Logically, i was supposed to be able to rest a bit more between errands, but instead i often felt dislocated and stressed about making use of the time freed from travelling. Needless to say, it was a dizzy existence. Since then, I’ve pushed myself to take public transportation more often, and it has somehow done wonders for my mental state of being. So now, i will not, and i beg you not to as well, make jokes about (bands who write music about) public transportation, because it is probably the next best thing after prozac.
My review of Beach House’sTeen Dream is up at Knox Road! Click here to read and download yourself a good something something. Again to the folks at Knox, Arigatou Scrappy Coco, thanks for believing in a woman who doesn’t seem to make much sense at all recently.
There’s a back issue of Dazed & Confused lying on my bedside table atop a high stack of books and I always try my best to artfully arrange it so that the page containing this particular photograph is showing. Whenever I enter my room and see this page lying open, it still makes me pause for a bit to think. I’ve already curbed a few attempts to blog about this picture, but today, I acquiesce to my banal yearnings. Other people have inspiration boards. I, on the other hand, have this picture.
Its just so interesting and complex; a string of juxtapositions comes to mind, screaming for you to make some meaning out of the conflicting messages apparent in the picture. Boy or Girl? Great actor or young philsopher? Sober or wasted?Organic or Orchestrated?
There is something very fake and preposterous about Hot Chip. No one’s wearing anything with sequins. Each and everyone of them had probably worked in a library at some point in their lives, have unquestionable morals and were perhaps lords of the Association of Chartered Certified Accountants in their past lives. The lead singer appears to be wearing normal, prescription glasses and looks anything but androgynous. C’mon, the guy sings like C3PO and was once dressed as the joker, the non-crazy kind. And they call themselves kings of the dance floor. Say it with me.
Preposterous.
One Life Stand is the band’s fourth coming as professors of dance music 101. At times, the music sounds sooo wrong, but 5 seconds later, its so right it’s not even funny, as you’re left twisting your joints with ridiculous dance moves, delirious and secretly praying that you don’t become a victim of premature arthritis. We witness new influences, new instrumentations, sounds from possibly another culture, but it’s still Hot Chip, there is nothing groundbreaking and nothing that isn’t worth your mad love.
In “Alley Cats”, they attempt to sound more sensitive and less mechanical, and although these things hardly work without a wispy fringe, you don’t find yourself throwing your hands up in the air and giving up. “We have Love” sees them sampling some crazily outlandish 80’s sounds and trying to console their audience by hypnotically chanting about the presence of love. And with tracks like the glamourous opener “Thieves in the night“, mid album divider “One Life stand” and the album closer “Take it in“, it feels like watching an episode of American Idol and suddenly realizing that the contestant is actually exciting. VERY exciting.
Take the new video for “One Life Stand” for example. Can you do that thing with your shoulders? YES YOU CAN! Do you want to punch your fists forward as if you were on the ski master? YES YOU DO. Does it make you dance like an eygptian and wave your hands in the air like Taichi? YOU DON’T SAY. They make dance music so accessible and so relatable, it becomes that much more personal.
The great thing about the band is that they understand that dance music is really about the identity and personal image that comes along with it. As a result, they stood out by going on an entirely opposite direction from all the other bands. With Hot Chip, you dont have to buy a $500 helmet to purchase your “personal” identity as their fan, you only have to learn to dance like a chicken. The hair gel and the shoulder pads are always lurking in the background, like the ridiculous keyboard reframe in the single. Your feelings take centrestage, and my god, its always more fun that way.
One Life Stand makes you realize with a lot of conviction that you don’t want that shaggy haired dude on the turntable, you don’t want that skinny legged junkie making slick music about wasting away in Paris with a million other skinny chicks. You think that Hot Chip are a just a bunch of normal geeks and you want to believe that if they can make music this great, anyone, including you, could do it as well, if you just kept on feeling. And then you buy a macbook and ask a friend to teach you how to use Garageband.
I can just imagine the disco of the future. It’ll be packed, the strobe lights would still be going, but there would be complete silence except for the random foot stamping. The DJ’s not there, everyone’s got their ipods, and they’re all dancing like chickens to their self made playlists/songs.
The deck is empty, the DJ’s dead. Put you hands together for the music of the new decade.
Spoon does music that is unmistakably made for straight laced dudes, dudes who are probably too shy to declare their wild love for lady lumps and prefer to keep their tastes cool but understated. Transference is not a chick album, show it to any girl and it might put her to sleep. But it is kinda like a Bridget Jones Diary written by 4 guys for all the other guys out there.
The beats are uncomplicated and crisp, the guitars droning, the melodies repetitive and the vocals are at most dull and monotonous. Yet, it’s probably about a million and one boy-girl, man-woman, man-women (not so much of the mano-a-mano) relationships from a guy’s perspective, a ton of ballads where soaring strings and glockenspiel crescendoes are replaced by slow, almost undetectable build ups of thinly veiled layer upon layer of apathetic instrumentation. Out Go the Lights is probably one of the rare exceptions that gets under your skin and your bloodstream immediately, but great examples of the typical Spoon drone are at 2:19 of I saw the Light, the “close to being stunning” Nobody Gets Me But You and The Mystery Zone. You’ll find it hard to grasp any differences between one bar and the next, but there’s always something new and once you get familiar with the additions however, the different layers gets mixed up in sly permutations. The melodies are simple enough, but the feeling you get is a complex one, something that is unfathomable and almost insufferable.
The message is harsh but perhaps true. If you think the guys have it easier, then you probably just don’t know.
