Festive 10, 2007
Another year, another Festive 10. Click on the link below for the ten tracks that have seen me through the year, mostly from the Lord's year 2007, one from 1996, another from 2005.
Before I begin, honorable mentions go out to "All My Friends" by LCD Soundsystem and "Transatlantique" by Beirut, which would have made the 10 were it not for the two tracks from outside of this year. Songs are in the order that the dark art of tracklisting demanded, not order of preference. E-mail me at the usual address if you fancy a copy...
1. The Good, The Bad and The Queen - “History Song”, taken from The Good, The Bad and The Queen
Portobello Road, early January, and I leave Honest Jon’s clutching a pre-release promo LP of Damon Albarn, Peter Simonon, Tony Allen and Simon Tong’s record The Good, The Bad and The Queen. Walking down the road, under the Westway, past grotty little stores barely containing the stench of weed, ignoring the multi-coloured buildings both rich and poor, I just stare at people. For all of its pretentiousness there are parts of Notting Hill that have this perfect London blend of native and settler, all colours falling into both categories. Perfect pre-amble to the record, because that worldview’s a glimpse into exactly what Albarn’s trying to do with the thing. What’s more is that I think it works, and bloody well at that. “History Song” then was probably the first new song I heard in 2007, and it’s about as perfect an opening track as you can get; dusty and scratchy and husky and hungover and a little bit arch and a wee bit portentous.
2. The Chemical Brother featuring Klaxons - “All Rights Reversed”, taken from We Are The Night
Couldn’t ignore Klaxons this year. I still think they’re barely worth my contempt but The Chemical Brothers used them to excellent effect on this track from We Are The Night. Of course, Klaxons are nothing to do with why it’s on here: The Chemical Brothers have been favourites of mine since I first heard “Block Rockin’ Beats”, before I liked music, and I saw them twice this year. I saw lasers spitting over my head into the night (hell, I saw lasers splashing off of walls in cramped little KOKO), I danced like a little gyro under stars, I got swept in by visuals and displays more impressive than war and, the first time anyway, I did it alone among tens of thousands. When the last, chaotic trill of lyrics comes after the break on this track I defy anyone not to be swept up in it.
3. The Auteurs - “Unsolved Child Murder”, taken from After Murder Park
Not from his year. Actually from a different continuum, one in which Beatles-esque melodies have lyrics about infant fatalities set to them, and a better world that is too. Phonogram, responsible for so many things this year and last, led to me picking up After Murder Park and instantly regretting not having found such a biting, vindictive swine like Luke Haines as a role-model at an earlier date. “Dead Sea Navigators” is actually one of my favourite songs of all time, but the dichotomy between lyrics and melody in this track was too good to pass up sharing with people on the Festive 10.
4. Battles - “Atlas”, taken from Mirrored
Everyone with a blog discovered this song in the space of a week. Start. Climb. Rock back and forth and bounce. When the symbols clash you twitch and twist and different muscles fire to each layer of this bastard hybrid. Listen once and be sucked in. Get the play count up much, much, much higher and ask the question “How the fuck did this become an indie hit?”. The track consists of vocals on helium and a lineage of jazz fed through fuzzy amps and iPods. It builds almost relentlessly, and it takes about 5minutes for the tension to actually snap. No, wait it takes exactly 5mins 35secs. And then you go again, until 6.03 when the track pops and Warp’s beast of the year still hasn’t stopped. Forty seconds later the let-down begins. You stop, having not so much come down a hill as a cliff-face.
5. Kate Nash - “Mariella”, taken from Made of Bricks
It could have been a beautiful career. Instead it was a brilliant single and a really disappointing album. In “Play”, “Foundations”, “Mariella”, the original version of “Birds” and “Merry Happy” (and, if I’m feeling very generous, “Mouthwash”) there are the bones of something sketchy and authentic and beautiful. Instead Made of Bricks is gloss-pop that Joss Stone would have rejected for its inconsistency. I mean, for fuck’s sake, the production on the new version of “Birds” is just noxious. “Mariella” though is an excellent song. I’m a sucker for anything that’s basically two tracks in one (as you’ll see more of later), and the chase that is the last thirty seconds is bloody beautiful, particularly live where the young lady shines. I just hope that rush releasing this album doesn’t kill her creatively, and I hope the bits I liked weren’t the bits she wants to smooth out next time around.
6. M83 - “Teen Angst”, taken from Before The Dawn Heals Us
Also not released this year. Marky Mark gave this record for Christmas and I finally got around to listening to it properly in the dark days of January. Without hesitation I will say that Before The Dawn Heals Us is one of my all-time favourite records. The whole album is a glorious trip, part epic-soundtrack and part prayer to the firework glory of night-time and, though it’s tough to choose favourites, “Teen Angst” is by far the most self-contained track on the album. Simply repeated lyrics are somehow honest exercises in minimalism here and the chorus, synthesised to the heavens, glides in like raw emotion. Under-pinning the whole thing is the cracked music of M83, which works to blend field recording and computer hi-jinks into something natural and seamless.
7. Arcade Fire - “Neon Bible”, taken from Neon Bible
“Take the poison of your age/Don’t lick your finger when you turn the page/You were wrong but you said it was right/In the future I will read at night” The song as literal verse regarding the titular object. Myth-building. Arcade Fire at Porchester Hall was like some beautiful moment of indie church-going. The album hasn’t stood up as well as Funeral, but this I keep returning to, along with “No Cars Go”, possibly because it’s like having a little prayer in my life, possibly because it’s understated and quieter than most of the rest of the year around it.
8. Saul Williams - “Sunday Bloody Sunday”, taken from The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of NiggyTardust!
Before I noticed the outstanding and relentless drum loops, the fuzzy elctronics, the warped bass-synths, the outraged cry in Williams voice, the beauty of Williams singing rather than rapping, the perfect compliment of Reznor’s harmony, the Gotham City mash of gutter and stars, my first thoughts about this song were, literally, “Thanks Christ, I don’t have to listen to U2 anymore: Someone’s done their only good song better than they do!”
9. The Apples In Stereo - “Beautiful Machine, pts. 1-4”, taken from New Magnetic Wonder
Four parts, two tracks, one epic. Like most of Robert Schneider’s output, I have absolutely no idea what he’s singing about. Part 1 takes his bounce-pop template and condenses it into a minimal and fraught two-verses and repeated chorus that clocks at under 1.40. Part 2 launches straight away and slows the whole piece down. Symbol crashes and stellar sound effects create this weightless sense and the titular Beautiful Machine seems to float through, non-judgmental and benevolent. Part 3 seems to begin ticking away, as if toward some kind of rocket flight, and though “We will be forgotten when we’re gone” is one of the saddest moments of pop this year, it seems glorious in the hands of The Apples, an urgent little message to do all you can with your time before you burn out into stardust. The sound effects string together into the finale, Part 4, a balls-out rock moment from the band of twee little scientists that’s bold and empowering, made more-so when the orchestral elements join the fray which briefly overwhelm the rest of the instruments as the mini-opera comes to a false-close. Then another close. Then gongs and symbols crashes play out for all eternity.
10. The Cinematic Orchestra - “To Build A Home”, taken from Ma Fleur
Story 1 = I’m walking through Soho with Zoe and hop into Sister Ray to browse aimlessly. I see a gorgeous 12inch cover, the Build EP by The Cinematic Orchestra. I buy it, which I’m legally obliged to do because it has such a lovely photograph, and save it for later, the track itself completely unknown to me. Skip forward several hours and I sit on the couch humming a melody I don’t know which I think picked up from an ident. It’s a beautiful tune, but I have no idea what it is. I wander to bed and slip the vinyl on to see what I bought and the track that plays is THE EXACT SAME SONG, which is so beautiful I almost cry.
Story 2 = Still amazed by the coincidence I play the track for Alice a few days later. We curl up on the bedsheets and just lie for a while listening to it. We’re pretty much speechless by the end. It’s a moment that actually seems to represent every moment of chat and silence and music and laughter of our relationship so far, and if there’s a memory I could close out the year thinking about then it would probably be that.
So I will.