Closing Time - Tom Waits

Track List:

1. Ol' '55
2. I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love With You
3. Virginia Avenue
4. Old Shoes (& Picture Postcards)
5. Midnight Lullaby
6. Martha
7. Rosie
8. Lonely
9. Ice Cream Man
10. Little Trip to Heaven (on the Wings of Your Love)
11. Grapefruit Moon
12. Closing Time

Running time: 45 minutes
Released: 1973

[Geordie accent]Day three in the Big Brother House[/Geordie]... or the third successive day I get a post done, anyway.

Going back in time to before I was born, to old, old Waits material, not much of which is immediately familiar to me by name, though Waits is Waits. I expect these to rattle through; 12 tracks in 45 minutes. Short, radio friendly lengths.

The first thing that hits me is that the recording level is quiet. I have to turn the volume up to get a good read on Ol' 55 as it starts. It sounds... more melodic and standard than the Waits material I am closer to. I am, sadly, interrupted even before this first track is done. Another mid-tune pause then.It strikes me on resuming the play that I do recognise the song, or at least it carries one of those "familiar" vibes - you know the type: can't place it exactly, but sure you have heard it several times before. The sort that make you go "Oh, that's what it was" when you find out or remember.

This, then, seems to be Waits before Waits became what he is known for now - all gruff and dark and experimental. Whilst it is no surprise that a younger Tom Waits had a slightly more tuneful voice than the one I became accustomed to from his later work, I am slightly surprised by the melodies being more traditional in form. As I finish typing that sentence we hit the start of Virginia Avenue with its bluesy sway. Oh, yes please. more of this. Perhaps not the best fit for the blue skies outside but a glorious sound and mood all the same. I had been starting to feel more human again, but a bad night's sleep last night has set me back a bit on that score so the low tempo and laid back rhythm induce a yawn - of genuine sleepiness not boredom.

I suppose I might have been really harsh on this in another time. Words like "generic" and "ten-a-penny" and other such epithets for common forms of easily accessible music may have spewed from my fingers or my mouth. I find myself shying away from such vitriol these days; whilst I am as averse to mass-manufactured music as ever, I am more chilled about it just not being for me. With respect to these Waits tunes though... well, I don't have tonnes of stuff like this as my library doesn't skew towards 70s easy listening. The combination of the performer's magnetism, the scarcity of such tracks in my collection and my belated recognition that accessible or popular doesn't have to be bad... well, I can just sit back and enjoy it for what it is. On that score, I don't think it is a patch on, say, Alice (my personal high water mark for Waits, as I am sure I have said before) but it is a nice collection of songs all the same.

The last paragraph reads like a sum-up, but I am only half way through, and finding my ear drawn to the piano on Martha. It doesn't sound completely in tune... it has an echoey, off-note quality to it that reminds me of the piano tunes played in saloon scenes in westerns. A particular affectation of American playing, it seems to me, whether a style affected by the pianist of a deliberate tuning I cannot tell, but I don't associate this kind of "swimming pool" sound to any European artistes. The two tracks named after women seem to merge together in my consciousness, though the twangy-ness of the piano is definitely toned down on Rosie, and it is only the slow, appropriately lonely sounds of Lonely that snap me out of a haze.

Here Waits sounds distant, and with only the piano keys for company he creates an impression of himself on a big stage in an empty auditorium, a sole spotlight on him, a shred of sound just about carrying to the exit that you watch from as he plays, slumped over the keyboard in despair. Say what you want about Tom Waits, his ability to conjure images in the mind of this listener is pretty much second-to-none. We are through that charade and onto an unexpectedly jaunty track, that only gets jauntier as it gets past the intro, doubling down on the jaunt? I like that, and find my foot tapping its appreciation, too. What a contrast from track to track. Out-back mercy-killing in the middle of nowhere to life and soul of a happening party in the blink of an eye.

I really like how this album shifts around tonally. Bluesy for the most part, there are jazzier numbers and plainer "entertainer" faire too. The mix means that none of them get too much - and you don't end up lamenting that Waits is not really a bluesman, or a jazz cat or whatever, but his own thing altogether which takes in aspects of each. On this collection I find myself most drawn to the slowest, lowest tracks, even when Grapefruit Moon has Waits' voice at its wobbliest. The laments, that's what hit me, regret dripping from every note. As Sinatra once sang: regrets, I've had a few (that's a tag I didn't expect to be using).

The title track, Closing Time, is an instrumental, sad and listless - it doesn't hit the moody notes of Grapefruit Moon or despondency of Lonely but it carries that same kind of regretful air from first note to last, and it seems a fitting way to close a disc.

Beautiful Skeletons - Gavin Clark

Track list:

1. Crazy
2. Spinning Round the Sun
3. Hurricane
4. Black Blood
5. Crazy On the Weekend
6. Elaine's Place
7. Never Came for Us
8. Spotlight for Sunshine
9. Stems
10. The Russian
11. Calling in the Cards
12. The Years Have Loved Us
13. When We Had Faces
14. Painted Glass
15. Raise a Vein
16. Open & Shut Case
17. Low Are the Punches
18. Never Seen the Sea
19. The Lost Choices
20. Roll Away Remain
21. Bermondsey Stutter
22. I Dreamt of God

Running time: 76 minutes
Released: 2014

So my next post was supposed to be Clayhill, which will now come next. In setting that post up I found out two things. One, that Gavin Clark had passed away 2 years ago and two, that he left this album behind when he did, so I bought it.

This is a first listen, a first listen in 3 weeks of ridiculous busy life, and a rather unknown quantity. It might have been done sooner had it not been quite so long, but still.

Crazy sounds like it must have been very early in his career. Clark's voice doesn't have the refined edge, or depth, to it that characterised the vocal that I am familiar with. The song is rather bland for it, too, but it short and past quickly. The next track is, like the first, a simple acoustic guitar tune with Clark's vocal. I recognise the song, from Sunhouse's Crazy on the Weekend.  There are a couple more here from that album, too - no surprise since Gavin Clark was the vocalist. I don't remember the tune, despite recognising it - but I suspect that the Sunhouse version has more to recommend it - a greater depth of sound, and a more mature vocal performance.

Ah, there. Hurricane (also a Sunhouse track) finally exhibits Clark's voice with the distinctions that endeared him to me on a cover of Red Snapper's Odd Man Out with his Clayhill bandmates. This tune I really like. It is also a simple number, but there is a harmonica or something in there too, giving a bit more of a layered sound. The three elements combine well and it slips by nicely. It is a dreamy number in some ways, more reminiscent of summer days than hurricane winds.

Gavin Clark falls into a sizable bucket of charismatic but flawed singers that I like. Character of voice is sometimes more powerful than pitch perfection. There is a gravelly note to it, a fag-burned, whisky soaked rawness and authenticity. A plaintive tone, a vulnerability dressed up in manliness. A warmth, a reality. When a voice like this is on song... ugh, train of thought broken by horrible overdrive and feedback screech on an electric guitar. Once I adjust to the screechy sound it's not so bad, but it stood out a mile from what went before and what comes immediately after. Not a nice surprise sound at all.

We hit a run of very short tracks - as in sub-2 minutes. I tend to find short tunes distracting... not enough time to get into them or have them really tell their tale. That said short and focused can really work. Here the tunes rather drift by - nothing particularly standing out. I find myself wondering about the whys and wherefores of these recordings. Clearly some are early demos of tunes cut later with bands, but even after I heard his voice and knew who he was, Clark had no profile as a solo artist that I was aware of - more as a voice for hire - e.g. with UNKLE.

The overall theme here seems to be confessional, almost apologetic. The soft meandering guitar work, the slow and deliberate vocals. Black Blood, with its harsh electrics feels like a massive curveball given the context of the rest thus far.

Ooh, there is bit more depth and life again in The Russian. A plinky-plonky nature to the sound gives it both a hint of the Old West and a breath of new life. This time the tonal shift works because it is not a complete change of instrument - it is still very much an acoustic string-lead piece, just with the additional backing of a keyboard. Clark gives it some solemnity over the top of a simple enough but lively tune, and I find the overall effect quite enjoyable. My general opinion on this collection is that it is so-so, however my affinity for Clark's voice is such that he can elevate some frankly underwhelming songs to enjoyable pass-times. He didn't have the songwriting chops of a Tom Waits, the croon of a Terry Callier, but he had heart, soul and sincerity which go quite a long way.

I find myself without many thoughts worth sharing. Too much is either a repetition of something said above or without relevance to the tunes at hand. I would happily digress but those thoughts are rather... dull and typing anything at all pulls me out of the stupour, the gentle state of relaxation that I am finding myself collapsing in to. It is good to have got to this at last, for it is the low-key evening that I needed, yet still productive.

There is no pace to the tracks, they all seem to be sedate numbers. Lazy reverie. The pace of the album as a whole is odd - shaken up not by changes to pace or tone of the tracks (Black Blood and The Russian as notable exceptions here - for worse and better), but by the variable lengths. This last quarter of the collection looks likely to be the most samey as everything here is ~3.30 or more. To be clear I don't mind this. The gentle pace fits quite well with how I am feeling, the end of the middle day of a long weekend. I seriously doubt I would ever choose these tracks as my poison for any given scenario, but I have to say that I am enjoying not taking it too seriously, kicking back and letting it wash over me. The familiarity of Clark's voice allows for that.

Never Seen the Sea is familiar, too; it was on the soundtrack to This is England (director Shane Meadows knew Clark well) - a series I never watched, but I have the soundtrack to all the same. This track has more depth to it. It is a shame that more here doesn't have that to be honest. Clark is generally good to listen to, but a good vocal still benefits from a good crucible. I find myself checking what is left to run because The Lost Choices sounded so much like a closer, but there are a few more to go yet. There is a tiredness creeping in to Clark's delivery it seems to me... but maybe I am projecting that. A definite sad tinge to the pieces though.

Listening to dead musicians is a weird thing. It is one thing if they died before I heard them, but it feels quite different listening to those that have died since I discovered them. That goes double for those that die young. It doesn't really feel like I'm listening to a ghost, but it does rather make one think of one's own mortality. That eerie feeling is intensified on the final track, with it's title and lyrics of dreaming of God. I'm not religious at all so the thought of reaching out to something beyond the real applies to deities and spectres in equal measure.

Then all is quiet.

The Church with One Bell - John Martyn

Track list:

1. He's Got All the Whiskey
2. God's Song
3. How Fortunate the Man with None
4. Small Town Talk
5. Excuse Me Mister
6. Strange Fruit
7. The Sky Is Crying
8. Glory Box
9. Feel So Bad
10. Death Don't Have Mercy
11. How Fortunate the Man with None (Original Version)

Running time: 47 minutes
Released: 1998

This album contains one of my favourite cover songs of all time. Martyn's take on Portishead's Glory Box is inspired. I don't have that much of Martyn's back catalog - just this, Solid Air, and his debut, London Conversation. I'm not quite sure why I have such spotty coverage but there we go. Time to see what the rest of this covers album is made of.

I don't actually recgonise any of the songs here besides Glory Box for their titles, or the listing of composers in the track metadata, so it is a bit of a voyage into the unknown in that sense. The opening number is a smoothly grooved track, with Martyn's sometimes gruff voice is applied in a hushed and softened manner. The tune is not revolutionary, the lyrics not great, but the overall vibe is much more positive. Mood is a massive thing in music and where Diagrams managed to butcher the mood on Chromatics with some very bland arrangements, here the tunes maybe simple but they hit the nail on the head, and support the central draw, our star's vocal.

There is a lot to be said for execution; the band here do just that. It could just be that I am in a more positive mood today, though.

Things get a bit weirder on How Fortunate the Man with None (which appears again at the end of the disc; apparently originally a secret track, my copy - digital purchase, I think - has it credited natively). There is a shift to the main structure of the piece, losing the easy, bluesy nature of the first couple in favour of a busier sound. Electronics creeping in to form a rather off-putting loop. I say off-putting because it rather dominates the tune, and frankly its not an interesting hook. There is some decent drumming around it, but Martyn's voice is subsumed into this underwhelming, synthetic sound, killing the majesty some. Thankfully it seems to be a one-track experiment.

Martyn had great resonance, a full sound, magnetic and with a natural depth to it creating a warm sound. His voice sits so well with slow, sparse, bassy tracks. Together this creates a comfort blanket in aural form, wrapping me up and captivating my ears. This is a laid back album for the most part, a late night album in some ways; it's early afternoon now but the sheer cool of the man, his band and their source material succeed in slowing things right down. I probably need more John Martyn records.

Strange Fruit switches things up a little, opening with a sedate piano melody that lasts 80 seconds before the vocal joins in. There is a touch of percussion in there too but this track is sparse. I love the slow tempo, the vocal becoming a drawl on the low notes; it drips atmosphere and reminds me a little of Tom Waits, only more welcoming. Martyn is a better singer, his voice smoother than Waits' I think, though I would be hard pressed to say which I prefer. The slow pace is a feature of a number of tracks here, but its effect is variable. I find it less endearing on The Sky is Crying, for example.

Musically, Glory Box is a faithful cover, upright bass taking on the riff with aplomb, but the real standout is the soulful way Martyn delivers the lyrics. He turns the track - always a downtempo classic - into a blues masterpiece. There is so much character in his low, meandering take - pretty sure he injects some new lines in places - that it really is magnetic. I have always loved the original track; covers are often difficult in that situation, but this one nails the aesthetic of the track so perfectly, whilst migrating it genre-wise. I put it easily alongside Portishead's version as an equal, if not a slight improvement on it.

Feel So Bad gets an injection of life; a livelier riff - and a better use of electronica than we heard earlier - switch up the overall tone, which the tune probably needed not to pale in comparison with what came before. The quicker, louder nature of the song cleanses the palette and so obviously distances itself from Glory Box that it doesn't suffer. It is a palette cleanser, too; the slow, low sound returns after one track away. I think this is album craft, a dying skill in the day of streaming and downloads. Death Don't Have Mercy gets to return to the style used to smash earlier efforts out of the park and still stand up brilliantly because we were pulled out of our soulful reverie for a short time.

Ah, now. The "original version" (metadata tag line, not mine) of How Fortunate the Man with None that I close on... this is much more accessible, more enjoyable than the credited version. This has life, soul and more organic sound. This has a clearer vocal, no dubious electronics and a groovier bass and drums. This is good, good enough for me to ditch track 3 and be happy to lose it. Everything else? Everything else is staying because everything else is pretty darn great.

Bubblegum - Mark Lanegan Band

Track list:

1. When Your Number Isn't Up
2. Hit the City
3. Wedding Dress
4. Methamphetamine Blues
5. One Hundred Days
6. Bombed
7. Strange Religion
8. Sideways in Reverse
9. Come to Me
10. Like Little Willie John
11. Can't Come Down
12. Morning Glory Wine
13. Head
14. Driving Death Valley Blues
15. Out of Nowhere

Running time: 49 minutes
Released: 2004

I can only have this because I adored the contrast that came of the combination of Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan. I would never have come across him were it not for the partnership with Campbell, whose waifish voice is a polar opposite to his gruff drawl. I don't figure that I listened to this much at all, and I suspect I may be cutting a fair bit, but time to give it a shake.

The start is not what I expect. A soft, tinkling piano, isolated and alone. This is soon replaced by a slow and deliberate riff and drum pattern, then Lanegan almost speaking - there is just a hint of musicality in the delivery - a lyric over this low slung considered structure. I rather like it. I am away on holiday, in Greece. I have not got to these pages recently. My nation is imploding - politely and less so. I am trying not to let short-sightedness and xenophobia ruin my break. That is proving tough.

Hit the City is harder, more insistent, more reminiscent of the grungy rock that I was expecting. The edge isn't really there - it has a muted tone, a fuzz, and the hammered guitar chords are subservient to the dueling voices as Lanegan is joined by a female accomplice. It is a short tune, and we're past it before I know, and into a deliberately paced, bluesy structure which, whilst quite simple and unengaging in itself, seems to work really well with the gravel-toned croon that lies above it. There is a definite primacy of the voice here - the compositions are leaving it a lot of space and appear to be kept simple to allow it to shine.

I find myself wanting to vent about the stupidity of Brexit, the ridiculousness of those with the least to gain voting down those with the most to lose. The smug and the vile amongst the leaders. I don't wish to do so, though. Despondency is high on the list of feelings just now, but I am in a lovely climate, not currently at work... more established rants can wait. Positivity is more becoming, in general, though negativity screams loudest. Lanegan has growled his way through Metamphetamine Blues whilst I have been vacillating on that point, and I am now faced with One Hundred Days which has a much lighter feel to it, cleaner and aired well without really shaking up the basic format. A touch more top end, and a touch more duration to explore the theme further. This is really rather nice. Simple, not special, but rather nice.

I think I was off with my prediction of cuts. A third of the way in there is no knife to wield, and no realisation of the apprehension I had that this would be full of harder rock numbers that bored or turned me off. No, this seems to strike a more mellow chord - slower, more considered and crafted, not rocket-fuelled, rage-filled angst. The overall tone has been lighter than I expected, too. There are moments of darkness in the playing, but the application of the voice has been more nuanced. That said, I don't like Sideways in Reverse at all - here the track is taken over by dull guitars, a perfect example of what I just said hadn't been present. Thankfully the following tune appears to head back to sparse instrumentation, crucible for a slower vocal, again a duet.

Lanegan seems to be good at atmosphere, I want to say laconic, but that isn't the right word at all, neither is sardonic. What is the expression for this sort of lazy drawl... deliberate but effective. I can't think of one that encapsulates it right. At moments he sounds Waitsian, at others more like E, from Eels. In all things I find him more interesting the slower he seems to pace his delivery - a quicker roll to Like Little Willie John makes the song less enjoyable, and the less said about Can't Come Down the better. There will be some excisions, just not too many.

Sombre reflection suits him, considered and clear threads of guitar, simple and sparse drum patterns and long vowels. This isn't exciting music, but rather soothing. There is a melodic quality to Lanegan's vocalisation, despite the roughness around the edges; if that roughness was planed out then it wouldn't have half the appeal. I recognise I have a bit of a thing for whisky-soaked, cigarette-smoked, gravel-strewn throats. Huskiness, imperfection... humanity. I even find myself getting into the groove of Head, which is richer in composition.

My immediate reaction to the driving pace of Driving Death Valley Blues is to flinch away. This is a generic American rock form that I am not overly keen on. It delivers on energy and repetition, fine if either of those things are your jam, but not on the interest or craft or construction that draws me towards people with Lanegan's type of voice. The closing track which follows it though... light acoustic lead in, contrast with the voice, and then with bass and drums, it all works much better. Light and dark, substance and shadow. Theme, presence. Not enough vocal - the long instrumental middle is lacking something - but that voice appears again to bring us to a close. Overall I have liked this, though enough of it fell flat to be a bit of a frustration. I'm not about to go look out his work with Queens of the Stone Age, for example, but... when it is geared more towards the cooperation with Campbell... I'd happily take more of that.

Broadside - Bellowhead

Track list:

1. Byker Hill
2. The Old Dun Cow
3. Roll the Woodpile Down
4. 10,000 Miles Away
5. Betsy Baker
6. Black Beetle Pies
7. Thousands or More
8. The Dockside Rant / Sailing With the Tide
9. The Wife of Usher's Well
10. What's the Life of a Man (Any More Than a Leaf?)
11. Lillibulero
12. Go My Way

Running time: 46 minutes
Released: 2012

Bellowhead are no more. By now they have played their last gig, which is sad - but then all things must end, and better they went out whilst still darn good than living on to drop in quality. Anyhow - I said a while back that it would be a few folk-packed weeks, well the infrequency of my posting put paid to that. However I do still have to get through a couple of Bellowhead albums before I can move on to C after what seems like being stuck on the Bs forever; almost 18 months now!

Broadside never received much play from me as an album before, but spawned their biggest single, one of my favourites, and probably the worst thing Bellowhead ever did, all in one. It starts with Byker Hill, which - my only other referenced for Byker being the Grove of BBC childrens TV of the early 90s - I guess must have been from the North East. Ooh. The talk of colliers fits, at least. This has an anthemic feel to it, the whole band joining in on the chorus, and a consistent pace thumping it forward. It is let down as a song by the sheer reliance on repetition, but the sense of place and purpose in the piece redeem it.

The Old Dun Cow makes good use of bassy brass to set the tone - fitting more with a gangster film than its actual subject. There is an urgency in the vocal here, breathy and quick in places, which gives the song character and contrasts with the structure from those deep horns. The break out into saxophone solo was unexpected, and didn't add much really. Crowd favourite next; I like Roll the Woodpile Down - any tune where Paul Sartin pulls the Oboe out has an appeal - but I have never quite understood why this is every other Bellowhead fan's #1 tune. Its nice and radio-friendly, which explained why it did so well, it's short and snappy, but with that it is also very formulaic. I find it doesn't quite have the really sweet melody of a Betsy Baker or the jaunt of a Haul Away. I guess I am just being a bit curmudgeonly here; it's a fine tune, just not a personal fave.

I heard a number of these tracks twice yesterday; not thinking about this project I was re-listening to the first disc of the Farewell Tour live album in the car to and from both work and gaming in the evening. Whilst I normally try to avoid that kind of action, I don't really mind. Save one or two tracks, even if I am not being openly positive here, my general take on Bellowhead is one of a comfortable familiarity. Their best work turns that into losing myself but mostly its just relaxing. I have to forgive Betsy Baker for being from Swindon - I first saw them play it live there in the steam railway museum - because the oboe melody is probably my favourite tune in all their work. It's not my favourite Bellowhead track (I think I would have to say that's Across the Line from Burlesque), but it is right up there... despite most of what I said about Roll the Woodpile Down applying equally here - the repetition certainly applies to the melody, yet I give it a pass because it is so light, fanciful and lyrical.

Black Beetle Pies is awful by comparison. An experiment with discordance. It is actually far more palatable on record than live. Here the recording de-emphasizes the more cacophonous elements, allowing me to appreciate their intent without the roundly negative responses I always felt hearing this in concert. We pass on to a track that probably encapsulates the standard Bellowhead song in terms of the basic structure, tune, melody and style, but which lacks the true character of the band. Thousands or More is just... flat, missing something. Tunes... the other side of the band and, probably, my natural bias in terms of enjoyment. I don't think The Dockside Rant is a short and approachable pair but not a set that ring any bells for me. Nice enough, and with enough character to be enjoyable, but not their finest.

There is a darker tone to The Wife of Usher's Well - chanting over a taut and insistent string striking, a more expansive chorus, but still with contrasting voices building that feeling of tension and disquiet. I actually really like this for the sense of drama it creates, a good reset after the tune set. Hearing What's the Life of a Man I cannot but think of Tom Waits. Whilst this is a traditional number, here it is rendered in true Waitsian style... oompah, rapid chanting, tempo shifts, vocal gruffness. Very vaudeville. It is another song that relies overmuch on a repeated chorus, but the tone of the track and the energy of it carries the day here (I found the live recording went on a little too long when driving yesterday, but I don't notice that now).

Time has flown by and we're into the last couple of tracks. Lillibulero was a live staple, but to be honest it has always been an underwhelming number for me. I am maddeningly inconsistent and fickle on this, but I find the repetition of the title in this track a bit of a sore point compared with the repetition of other elements in other tracks. Go My Way is unfamiliar to me, never a live track, but I like its overall tone and it works as a closer... right up until the point it drops out suddenly and then, after a moment of silence we get a fiddle melody which shifts the nature of the track. Thankfully this builds up with the percussion and horns coming into it and there is another, fitting, crescendo before the track, and the album conclude.

After sitting through Broadside, I can see why I never really listened to it much. By now I was already used to seeing them live; I had established favourites; there are noticeable weaker tracks. However there are also some nice highs and it forms part of a catalogue that I am glad to have in full.

Bring it On - Gomez

Track list:

1. Get Miles
2. Whippin' Piccadilly
3. Make No Sound
4. 78 Stone Wobble
5. Tijuana Lady
6. Here Comes The Breeze
7. Love Is Better Than A Warm Trombone
8. Get Myself Arrested
9. Free To Run
10. Bubble Gum Years
11. Rie's Wagon
12. The Comeback

Running time: 54 minutes
Released: 1998

I fell in love with Gomez's bluesy lo-fi sound when I saw them on Later... with Jools Holland around the time this record was released. They have done a lot since - I have a fair bit of it - but I don't know if they ever managed to re-bottle the lightning that made this a special album, despite some very good songs. A decade ago I would have probably called this a favourite, but I don't really listen to Gomez much these days, having found their later stuff disappointing. Going back should be interesting - I can still hear all of these tunes from the names.

It's Easter Monday; last of a four day weekend. It's mostly been quiet for me; catching up on my Game of Thrones discs and... well, a little family time yesterday. I'm scuppered for cleaning by my vacuum cleaner cutting out just now so I'm fitting in this listen instead. The fuzzy sound of Get Miles is probably a love or loathe thing. Like a constant buzzing, it's there throughout the track. It would get overbearing if it wasn't for a voice that sounds much older and more worn than the person bearing it could have been at the point the record was made. I love those rough edges though, it gives it a warmth and a humanity, a point of connection. Perhaps the song is a bit too long, but otherwise it's a lovely introduction.

Whippin' Piccadilly was a single I think? Drunken days out - apparently good song material; who knew? The tune itself doesn't wake up. I thought it had a bit more life to it than this - a kind of sturdy, constant roll. It's alright, but its pretty static. There are effects added over the top which do vary the sound a little but none of the depth in the tune that I would have attributed from memory alone. The composition is stripped right back for Make No Sound, a sparse acoustic melody backing a vocal which has a sense of time and volume. I really like the singing here; it's not the world's best voice, but there is an emotion there and a gravelly, growling, tinge to it that tick my boxes. I like characterful voices; how else to explain Tom Waits' appeal. The next track is 78 Stone Wobble and there is, again, a fuzz on this recording that really works for the verse. The choruses are clearer. The shuffling of vocal duties creates a nice little effect, too - the timbre of the song changing with the different voices, in different registers and different strengths. I think this was the first song I heard from Gomez, and I liked it right away. Now... I hear a decent tune, but little more than that; too repetitive, relying too heavily on a simple riff that gets old too fast for that trick to work. I like the verbal ping-pong more, but the song is also over-reliant on the chorus - lyrically deficient for its length, so some of the lustre is lost, even there.

I am not surprised that I am taking to this less than I used to - time has moved on, though it is hard to think that it is 18 years old now. This project is making me feel the passing years when I get to things like this that I bought around the time of release and then register just how much time has passed since. Babies born the day this released will be adults in a couple of weeks (original release 13 April, according to Wikipedia). Tastes change, too. I suspect I didn't like Tijuana Lady much back then - its slower pace not offering as much interest as the faster tunes. Now, though... I think it's the best thus far. There's a clearer melody in places, and the stately pace leaves room for us to appreciate the echo-chamber of other sounds. Still - it is the moment when the fuzz cleans up and the chorus melody picks up that makes the song. Just a lovely little transition. The last minute and a half probably could have been dropped though. Gomez have always been prone to long tracks though, often making them their best - centrepieces in truth, if not in design.

I love the hook on Here Comes the Breeze. Breezy is right - and the clarity of the sound is a wonderful contrast to everything that has come before. Nice clean melody. Sliding sounds behind it creating an emotional road for the main themes. These first few bars really made me smile - I wasn't expecting that. The tune is exactly what I remembered, but better in actuality. The repetition of music through the verses is a little dull - this feels like very structured songwriting, which loses it a little of the magic. However it changes up around the 3 minute mark and we get a different structure instead. I'd have liked the change about 30-60 seconds earlier, but I am pleased it happened. It's a shame that the full track doesn't live up to that first 20 seconds though... that was top class. The lead out is nice again though - top and tails; bread better than filling. Other crappy metaphor here.

Back to a lo-fi sound now, and a lovely bluesy guitar. It took a little while to kick in, but when it does it has a snap to it, a flatness that really works. Again we have different voices - and the booming, graveled one is again the pick of them. It's hit me that I am only half way through. The last few listens have been around the 40 minute mark that I prefer. This, up at 55, feels longer already and that extra time is a strangle little yoke. Ah, this definitely was a single. The opening of Get Myself Arrested is unmistakable, a downbeat shuffle and a cacophonous chorus follow. The tune has a life to it, which it seems to gain by sucking life out of the band - there is an onerous feeling about the main vocal, a tiredness about the harmony on the chorus, which isn't fully synced up. I like that though - rough edges again.

Free to Run I think I may have conflated with Here Comes the Breeze in my memory as it doesn't open how I thought it would. I re-calibrate, and I think it was the chorus not the verse that I always latched onto here, and as that starts my shift is vindicated. This feels lighter, higher pitch and less busy work in the layered guitar parts. It serves as a nice antidote to the grubbier, fuzzier tracks - like its confused counterpart before it. Ah, yes - lead out; nice little melody at a decent clip. Starts guitar and drums, gets a little more depth as it builds. Vocal repetition layered on top. Despite basically looping for 90 seconds it doesn't get old and wraps the song up nicely. All those nice clear sounds are ditched again, as we plunge through gears (down, not up) to a sparse and grubby little number. The Bubblegum Years are better after the first chorus, apparently, as this is where the arrangement picks up. I am not fond of the central conceit around the verse - a very low fidelity vocal, and a rather dull little hook, but the extra depth around the choruses is a noticeable improvement. It's not a great song though - weakest on the album I think.

We have 2 tracks left, and Rie's Wagon is 90% of the running time remaining. Really strong growl on the guitars here give it a grungy sound. I rather like that. Not sure why this particular combination of guitar and voice works where it didn't on the previous track, but both the style of that guitar and the voice are different so hey... different effect. Here it is the chorus that is weaker - not as stark a contrast though. Blue, lonely, lost. There's a hurt in those guitar strings, or more accurately the effects applied to them. It gives the track heart, even as it is too long and too sparse on much else, that ache and bluesy sound built up by introduction of a harmonica (or similar effect), and a subtle change of pace and emphasis here and there keep it evolving and enjoyable. Elements slide in and out around the central themes... not all of them good, the worst before it drops anything more than the central guitar to go back to the chorus being a rattling sound that just lasted too long. After that chorus we're stripped back for a phase before that big old howl comes back. We're dropped into a new verse some 4 minutes or so after the last one. I shouldn't like this track, but I do. There's much about it to admire even as it commits some pretty big sins.

The last track is a simple little lead out, and then we're done. The second half of the album actually flew past pretty quick. Overall... it's still an enjoyable listen. The high points are different these days but most of it holds up to an extent. I could never lose myself in love for many of the songs now, but they hold enough interest to revisit occasionally, and a few moments of wonder scattered through them mean that is likely to remain the case. The opening of Here Comes the Breeze was my zenith this time through - though it is not the strongest song overall. There is plenty more Gomez to come in due course, but I am done for now. Back to vacuuming for me!

Bone Machine - Tom Waits

Track list:

1. Earth Died Screaming
2. Dirt in the Ground
3. Such a Scream
4. All Stripped Down
5. Who Are You
6. The Ocean Doesn't Want Me
7. Jesus Gonna Be Here
8. A Little Rain
9. In the Colosseum
10. Goin' Out West
11. Murder in the Red Barn
12. Black Wings
13. Whistle Down the Wind
14. I Don't Wanna Grow Up
15. Let Me Get Up on It
16. That Feel

Running time: 53 minutes
Released: 1992

Back to Waits now. Unlike Alice and Blood Money I have not listed to a lot of this at any point, only heard the tunes in a shuffle. As a result I don't have a picture of the album going in based on anything more than the title and song names - and that picture is not pretty. Nor is the cover art.

Christmas has been and gone, and I am looking forward to a few days off, at home, where I might get through a number of listens. This being the first. I have been staring at it for a week, not in a Tom Waits mood. To be honest I still am not, but whereas pre-Christmas I could put it off, now I ave no excuses. I wish I did though - this sort of intense darkness is best approached in appropriate mind. Rambling percussion, husky muttered vocal and a wailing chorus make Earth Died Screaming a difficult opening, the only musical sounds arriving at the death. Thankfully Dirt in the ground, whilst maintaining the downtrodden darkness, also keeps the melodic aspects too. A soft piano and sax combo is a very understated but pleasant form, moreso than the strained stylings Waits puts into his voice here.

The shambling piano, so soft as to disappear at times, is really atmospheric and effective. The sax gets wearing, as does the vocal, but although it is limited, the keyboard tune keeps giving enough of a softening edge to make the tune enjoyable. After a short pause to collect the first of my winter sale shopping (2 pairs of jeans, 2 Half Man Half Biscuit CDs and 2 videogames) from a courier it is on with with this show.

Such a Scream confirms that the listen is a trial today. This is, for me, not Waits at his best. I prefer his more maudlin but melodic efforts over this edgy material. I find All Stripped Down to be a title that works on 3 or four levels, but a song that offers me very little. I am grateful that it is 16 tracks in 50 minutes, not 10. The quicker turnaround makes each track less of a trial of patience. I say that as if I hate this; I do not. Its just a bit more intense and dark than I want just now. Thankfully, Waits wanders and Who Are You is a bit more coherent and musical again. The voice and the backing do not quite seem to match up, out of sync in a tiny but charming way, I rather like this one. I can only think it is no co-incidence that Kathleen Brennan is credited as a co-writer on this and Dirt in the Ground, but not the other three I have enjoyed less.

Ah, now this... while creepy is also kinda cool. The Ocean Doesn't Want Me is another What's He Building in There? Odd sounds in the background, percussion leading the ear whilst Tom delivers his message in that ever-distinctive gravelly voice, spoken rather than sung. This is far more effective at building a 'nicely' odd and nasty atmosphere than the broken percussive sounds on earlier tracks and whilst creepier, less arduous to listen to at the same time. This sort of sound is very uniquely Waits, and in the right mood it is glorious; in a post-family come down state as I am today it is wide of the mark. Unlike Alice, or even Blood Money, Bone Machine is failing to have the magic that can make me be in the right mood after the start. I don't think this album quite has the same lightning in a bottle feel to it. From Little Rain we hit another run of co-penned tracks, the first of which does remind me a little of Alice, which I appreciate. This run is not a step away from the percussion and bare-bones structure setup of the album though. In the Colosseum suffers from over-repetition of the title in the lyrics of the chorus and I find it overstays its welcome too - stretching out to almost 5 minutes in total. The length (hardly the longest of tunes ever) is felt because of the reliance on thumps and bangs more than anything else.

Ah, Goin' Out West has a bit more of a groove to it, strong enough that the opening line was almost inaudible actually, and it strikes me as unusual for Waits' voice to be subservient to the music in the way it is here. It still has all the same characteristics, but the recording levels are such that the bassy twang that structures the tune is definitely sharing the stage with the drums, pushing the vocal to the fringes. It creates a really interesting tune - Waits almost his own backing vocalist here, and the space within the piece feels back to front in an attractive way. I like it. The theory that co-writing tempered the more out-there tendencies may still hold, but that it suggested more melody is simply wishful thinking. There is still very little of that here. There are gems here all the same though. I love the opening of Black Wings, with a tempered edge to Waits' vocal - a film montage voice-over quality to it, which suits the music perfectly. I could swear that I've seen this movie... There is a subdued nature to this piece, but a definite quality - for me it is the pick of the album thus far by a mile - so evocative with so little.

Hah, just to put the nail in the coffin of my early-claimed revelation, Whistle Down the Wind is precisely the maudlin songster Waits that I love, in terms of tone at least, and the song is penned on his tod. Disheveled, tumbledown, haggard - the piano in Waits finest moments brings these words to mind. Playing and producing glorious melodies despite its condition, filling spaces and halls that crumble and fester in worlds that are not nice places to be. Rays of light in the darkness of a hopeless world, and all the more magic for it. Maybe I am growing into the right frame of mind for this album just as it is coming to a close, but the second half is far more engaging than the first was. More likely, I think, the songs are more accessible - a bit less percussion, a bit more melody, a bit more to latch on to. The first half was genuinely a bit of a chore, and a couple of the tracks really dragged but it ends strongly in terms of the atmosphere and emotion it produces so I am willing to let it off the hook.

Blood Money - Tom Waits

Track list:

1. Misery Is The River Of The World
2. Everything Goes to Hell
3. Coney Island Baby
4. All the World Is Green
5. God's Away On Business
6. Another Man's Vine
7. Knife Chase (Instrumental)
8. Lullaby
9. Starving In The Belly Of A Whale
10. The Part You Throw Away
11. Woe
12. Calliope ( instrumental )
13. A Good Man is Hard to Find

Running time: 37 minutes
Released: 2002

Blood Money was released along with Alice, or darn close to it at least. I don't think it is in the same league as its companion, but there are a couple of tracks that jump out simply from the names.

The first of those is our opener. Misery is the River of the World isn't exactly a phrase that trips off the tongue of most people but Waits carries it off with aplomb. Like Alice, this is tumbledown, vaudeville, tarnished - and yet the value of what lies underneath is clear. There is nothing tuneful about the song but it is utterly compelling, an insistent stomping accompanying Waits gruff intonation over a miscellany of other sounds. Atmospheric. Intense... but not quite Alice, you know? The connection between the releases makes that thought unshakable and it is unfortunate because it does this part of our troubadour's output a disservice.

Everything Goes to Hell is not in the same league for compulsion. It shares a lot of characteristics with what came before, and has a sense of place and understated appeal about it, but simply not as strong. It does fully conjure images of dirty cramped alleyways and rats scuttling away from tramps coming out of tents though, so it is with some relief that we divert into Coney Island Baby with its slightly off-key piano and Waits in disheveled crooner mode, a trick he pulls off wonderfully. This song is far more melodic than the prior two, but no less redolent of decay - like a seaside town that hasn't seen a visitor in a decade. There is a weariness and a melancholy, but also a refusal to simply lay down and die - opening up each day in case this is the one that the hordes return.

I really, really, like the imagery - I find it really satisfying in its vividness.

All the World is Green is an uplifting title, and my recollection is that the chorus is similarly positive, so I am surprised when the main musical theme that kicks it off is almost as dark as that on Misery is the River of the World. Its funny what we recall and what we forget, even about the same darn thing. I tell you now that I am remembering that I like this album. I really do not recall what prompted me to pick up this pair of discs and start collecting Waits, but I am so glad I did. He is amongst my most listened to if you believe LastFM - in the top 10 - and yet... it feels like I never really progressed past listening to this and to Alice.

Another Man's Vine is the first track that is not familiar when it begins, and it has a sleaziness to it, dispensing with some of the grime and decay for a salubrious tone, suggestive horns. Truly, is there anyone other than Waits who can conjure visualisations so strongly through a tune? At that point I am broken out of my thought pattern by realising I needed to adjust the track list, which was missing the horrificly tense Knife Chase for some reason. As if to counter the spiky danger of the chase, Lullaby arrives, just proving that Waits, despite the gravel in his larynx, can soothe as well as he can suggest. That said the song feels like a repeat of No-one Knows I'm Gone.

Starving in the Belly of a Whale is something else. Gruff, insistent and incessant, and that's before we hit the chorus where the repetition of the title is really magnetic. It is not a song that is comfortable to listen to but it is majestic as a tour de force - dragging you along behind it like a rider fallen from his panicked horse trapped in the stirrups and reins. As much as I am surprised that Tom Waits is quite so high up my list of most listened to artists (I suppose his prolific nature and sizable back catalog help him surface in shuffles), it is precisely this kind of grab-you-by-the-scruff type number that typifies his appeal.

The disc ends with a couple of short numbers - interludes really, though they are not referred to as such - squeezed in before the closer. A Good Man is Hard to Find is a lovely tune, and for once here Waits' distinctive vocal may not necessarily be the best to sit alongside the muted melody. It's not bad (after all, if you like Waits at all you would never call his voice bad; if you don't like him you'd be justified to say "the man can't sing!" at this juncture), but not quite as made for the composition somehow. The tone of this final track is upbeat and I think that is where the disconnect comes in. I find myself distracted for what feels like a second, and then jarred by the silence. The track has ended and so has the listen.

Bad As Me - Tom Waits

Track list:

1. Chicago
2. Raised Right Men
3. Talking At The Same Time
4. Get Lost
5. Face To The Highway
6. Pay Me
7. Back In The Crowd
8. Bad As Me
9. Kiss Me
10. Satisfied
11. Last Leaf
12. Hell Broke Luce
13. New Year's Eve

Running time: 44 minutes
Released: 2011

Waits' most recent, and I would guess last (but who knows?), album. I am missing the three "bonus tracks" listed on his website. Ah well. I do not recall getting on with this much and can only hear one of the songs in my head as I look at the track list, which is a sign of unfamiliarity. I wonder whether this will change that?

It has a high strung start. Punchy repeated notes at high tempo and growled vocal. There is none of the delicateness of Alice here. I cannot say I like Chicago much, but it has an energy about it. Repetition seems to be a feature. A similar recurring note is used in Raised Right Men. This appears to be all about Waits' voice, no bad thing, as there is virtually no composition (I almost prejudicially left "music" here, but that would be too hyperbolic and "grumpy old man" of me). It is more rhythm and a background noise to frame the vocal against. So far it does not work for me, not even a little. Perhaps that is why I have a lack of familiarity. The third track softens the impact a little, there is more musicianship and more of a tune to the backing here. We still have a strong repetition to advance that theme (not a single note this time though) but it is muted, reduced and blue rather than insistent, front and centre and demanding. It is a better track for it, though the breathless singing Waits effects here is not him at his best.

Get Lost sounds like a 60s tune revived and twisted, I can almost see people in black and white doing cheesy dance crazes to the ridiculously quick limited tone pattern except for the darkness of the atmosphere it generates. So far I have not liked anything on this disc, but I am finally hearing promise, a step back from the repetitive, a simpler sound, more space. Face to the Highway may overuse the song title in the lyrics but its construction is much more to my taste. As it goes on, the repetition is there, a march-like beat, but it is mostly a very soft but layered backing and a less forced-sounding Waits in a more familiar delivery. Better. Much better. Pay Me does hark back to Alice a bit, lyrically and thematically it would fit there, even if the music is less atmospheric than those pieces. It still touches on vaudeville, conjures an image of steam organs and mechanical dancing puppets and un-tuned pianos - charming in a shabby kind of way.

Phew, the album has picked up a bit. The start was really harsh, offensive to my ears, but now it seems to have mellowed and settled into a more relaxed mode - strumming, gentle tinkling, and carefree crooning. I get a weird Buena Vista Social Club type air from Back in the Crowd, despite it not being particularly Latin in influence - I think it is the slightly tumbledown impression, with an effect that sounds a little like rain dripping through an incomplete roof. It is a charming track.

I spoke too soon. I am not really surprised when the title track heads back to the style that set me on edge earlier - the title dares it to really. It is not so loud though, and less obviously repetitive. Lyrically more interesting and delivered with an urgency that is much more interesting, but ultimately - and it may be my mood as much as anything - it does not excite me. Kiss Me is classic Waits, rambling with very little to distract from his voice and the pleading story he has to tell. The sparse instrumentation works well for him, especially when it is soft and receding into the background too. We seem to be in a more bluesy mood all of a sudden. The change of style is welcome to a point, but ultimately I am not satisfied with Satisfied - on the one hand I like the bluesy edge, but on the other it remains too samey and the levels of discordance and punchiness somehow just nail a frequency that sets my teeth on edge. The mood and structure of the song I like, but the execution left my ears wanting to shut down.

Last quarter now, and it is an odd duck. The repeated note (pair) theme is gone and dead long ago, but the songs weave from stridency and noise to stripped back lament (to be fair, this is not odd for Waits) in a way that does not feel coherent. One moment you are listening to a pleasant song, well crafted, the next a noisy mess that challenges you. I must admit, I am not up to much of this particular challenge, at least not this evening.

I prefer Waits in thematic mood, tumbledown and touching; dreaming of despair. Less so in aggressive dissonance. I wonder if this album was one hurrah too many, whether my ambivalence to listening tonight sours me, and any number of other thoughts as to why Bad As Me just does not cut it for me. I cannot really say. There are some very nice songs here, but there are also ones that made me want to shut down and walk away. Now that the disc has finished, I have the luxury of doing that.

Avalanche - Thea Gilmore

Track list

1. Rags And Bones
2. Have You Heard
3. Juliet (Keep That In Mind)
4. Avalanche
5. Mainstream
6. Pirate Moon
7. Apparition #13
8. Razor Valentine
9. God Knows
10. Heads Will Roll
11. Eight Months
12. The Cracks

Running time: 46 minutes
Released: 2003

Thea Gilmore is my second most listened artist to on LastFM after King Creosote (and the two of them are way out front in that regard), but it feels like I have loved her work longer. Her more recent material is less to my taste than her earlier work but she has more than enough credit built up for me to buy first and think later all the same.

When it was released Avalanche felt like a step towards a more accessible, radio-friendly sound in some ways but I remember loving it for the brasher tunes whilst not being so fond of some of the softer ones. I look at the track list with familiarity and a smile, but I think I may find the songs I love now are not necessarily those I loved 10 years ago. 

Typing that brought home the passage of time in a fairly major way.

Rags and Bones is an interesting start, because I remember the song for the chorus more than the verses, and the introductory verse is actually pretty sedate, thus having a very different feel to the strident sounds I associate with the song. Gilmore has often been criticised for not having the musical chops to go with her intelligent, self-aware and otherwise engaging lyrics. It is a view I do not fully subscribe to, though I can see why it arises - her words tend to be sharp and pointed across a number of different subjects, but her songs are not necessarily pushing any boundaries... but then who does push music forward with every tune? The criticism is somewhat unfair on that point. Have You Heard is one of my favourite examples of why it does not matter. It is a fairly pedestrian hook, but it is really well executed and the structure of it accompanies the words really well. Maybe not the best composer ever, no, but a damn fine singer/songwriter.

Juliet was a single, and it really shows. Much more radio friendly faire, especially the chorus. It was never a preference of mine, and that is still true today - I find myself bored by it, but like some other works already discussed slight downturns here are not at risk of cutting for sentimental reasons. It is followed by the title track. This is a softer, slower number and one that I enjoy more now I am a bit older and appreciate a little more than the instant hit to my ears - appreciating the space, the wave-like (and well, I guess Avalanche-like) rumble of the backing in places and the poetry of the lyrics. Mainstream is a reaction song - louder, angrier (I always found Thea Gilmore more interesting when the angsty young woman shone through) - against the mainstream of the music industry, which she chose to ignore - and I for one am glad for that. The song does not resonate as much 10 years on though - I do not know much about the workings of the music business, do not want to, but appearances have it as a very... particular industry for 20-something women in a way that ceases to be quite so relevant a bit later in life. Good riddance to shallowness.

Pirate Moon is slower again, more wistful and certainly more classically poetic and again I find I have more time for it at 34 than I did at 23. The soft lull and flow of the melody is easy to relax into, I like it a lot. Then we get a call-back (in name at least) to Rules for Jokers, which was the album that introduced me to Gilmore's work. This tune is a little bland in many parts (inviting the critique raised earlier) but I love the chorus, and the way it changes tone from the verse, gaining a level of urgency and purpose that is missing from the lazy looping hook. Edgy is good where this lady is concerned and when that comes through in both music and words, that is where she is strongest for my money. This is why I feel her earlier work stands up more - she retains the fire to date but it is channelled through cooler air of a more settled life somehow.

Razor Valentine could be a Tom Waits tune - same vaudeville style, same air about the lyrics. Waits was always cited as an influence, so that is no surprise. The surprise (to many, I would think) was that Gilmore does it so well that, the obviously female singer aside, it really could be a Waits song. We now hit the weakest song on the album (though Juliet pushes it close). God Knows has never worked for me... partly because as an atheist the title rubs me up the wrong way for some reason (I use the phrase "God knows" as much as anyone else so it is not simply the turn of phrase) and partly because the song is bland throughout. There is no high point, no real change of pace, tone or volume to break up its predictable sway. It is followed by my favourite, and the shortest track on the disc. The urgency the short length gives Heads Will Roll is like ambrosia to me, and when the backing comes in on the second verse it gives the song a shot of adrenaline that kicks it up a gear. Angst again. Anger fuelling creativity is nothing new but it remains a real path to glory when resentment and injustice can be harnessed like this.

In recent years the track that has rivalled Heads Will Roll to be my favourite on this album is Eight Months. I found it dull originally, but now I think it is now right up there with her best songs. More relaxed again in pace, its cadence is reassuring and its airs are wistful and yearning. It resonates with me for reasons that I cannot quite pinpoint, quite apart from being nicely executed. I find myself almost paralysed for something to write about it as I sat here mesmerised, and look back on the younger me, who would at this point often skip the album to track 1 again, thinking "stupid!"

We close with a lament of sorts, a song that veers off part way towards Waits territory, but definitely stopping short this time. Razor Valentine ploughed right on down that road into uncanny valley, but The Cracks stops up and loses out because of it. It retains a melancholic charm and an interest but ultimately it seems to be a little caught between two (or more) stools in terms of what it wants to be. It is a slightly weak end to the album for me, given the strength of what it contained. The sways of mood and tempo were handled well elsewhere, but placing this last leaves me, as the listener, with a more sombre, less positive view of the prior 46 minutes.

I cannot let that overrule the main point though which is this album is classic Thea Gilmore and it remains a favourite today. She is one of the few artists I would recommend to everyone because I rate and value her work that highly. Avalanche is not my favourite Thea album - that would have to be The Lipstick Conspiracies - but it is a very good one.

Amnesiac - Radiohead

Track List:

1. Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box
2. Pyramid Song
3. Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors
4. You and Whose Army?
5. I Might Be Wrong
6. Knives Out
7. Morning Bell/Amnesiac
8. Dollars and Cents
9. Hunting Bears
10. Like Spinning Plates
11. Life in a Glasshouse

Running time: 43 minutes
Released: 2001

I thought I had 2 copies of this album - a regular and limited edition. Turns out I am either mistaken or I gave away the regular version at some point, but I still have the limited edition that I received as a 21st birthday present, as I recall.

It has been an age since I listened intently to any of these songs and whilst I can still hear a number of them if I bring them to mind, others are complete blanks. Had you asked me whether I thought I would forget any of these songs in the year after it was released, I would have thought you were mad. Oh the foolishness of youth, and the sad realities of life, growing up and the passage of time. I really liked Kid A despite the change of direction that had lots of people doing a collective WTF? after OK Computer. This album, recorded at the same time as the former, is in a similar mould.

Packt... is all beeps clicks and thumps but unlike say, Animal Collective, the use of them here dovetails with a less cacophonous vocal and a considered backing. It makes it more listenable, but I am not a big fan of this opening. I remember loving Pyramid Song, though. Rich and full whilst being spaced and haunting.  There goes that dodgy memory again: haunting yes, but rich... not so much. The song does build a depth of sound over the course of its run though, structured around the vocal and keys which hold everything together. OK, rich maybe does fit, but not for the whole length of the song. The strings, when they arrive, lend a fullness to the piece and I think they could have been used to bring about a much more fitting ending. It's a fine song that has aged, but gracefully. Which is more than I can say for Pulk/Pull. The only thing that saves this tune from the cut is, well, that it is on this album. I am not averse to deleting tracks from albums, but I am reticent to do so for albums that I have had so long or that I might realistically listen to as albums again. OK, the chance is low, but it is there. Sometimes less palatable tracks are part of the milieu, part of the whole that needs to be considered together. Lets not fudge this: the fact it is on a treasured album from my (relative) youth saves it, even if I would no longer list this disc as a favourite.

You and Whose Army? is a sentiment that I would venture that most young people have rolled around their heads at some point, and I was certainly no different. I think Yorke's vocal really works on this track, and the backing is far better than you might think in passing. I do not recall the variety and the lines other than the sombre piano from 15 years back, but on this listen they stand out nicely. The twang of I Might Be Wrong is a welcome one though. There is something faintly dirty about it, grubby sounds for a grubby future (now past). I could fault it for repetition but the hook is so catchy and the rhythm is interesting enough that it just about manages to swerve me pinning it for that. It swells nicely - or is that me simply imagining the swell? I think it might be the latter. I have to say that where I have been harsh on denouements before now, I quite like the one here, if only for the lonesome sound in the lull before it kicks in. 

Ah, now that mournful refrain was always a favourite. Knives Out is darkly melodic and resonates with me now as it ever has. The echo effect amplifying the lonely air and the creepy lyric. Listening properly there is a bit of a sonic mess here and there in the backing which is interesting because it never overshadows the clear melody. The album has now peaked, I suspect. 

I was never a fan of this version of Morning Bell, a worse rendition of one of the weaker Kid A tracks, I felt. This impression sticks on revisiting it here, and again the song is saved from the cut simply by being on this album rather than another and on we go.

Dollars and Cents sounds virtually nothing like what I remember. The same sounds are there, but the relative levels and the structure are different than in my recollection; my memory had the bassline more prominent and the title more front and centre lyrically. I have to say I prefer the flawed memory version to the real thing, but the song does contain enough interest, bite and drive to still be enjoyable. The rest of the album really is downhill, right brain? Hunting Bears I could not place at all by title, but its lamentations are familiar when they kick in. It makes for an interesting interlude, but nothing more than that.

Wow, the intro to Like Spinning Plates is the first 1 minute 46 seconds, that had not registered at all previously. I recognised the low key pulsing but expected the vocal to kick in much sooner. I do not recall this track fondly, and frankly I find this dull now so thus far, 2 of 3, the memory has the downward slide right. I think I would like Life in a Glasshouse more if it was Tom Waits and not Thom Yorke singing it. The wandering vaudeville style arrangement is more a Waits trait and it would suit a gruff retelling. Humphrey Littleton's trumpet sings out over what otherwise is a tangled old composition. It is actually a much stronger end than I remember it being, and for that I am glad.

The limited edition book

Having listened to the album in full for what must be the first time in a decade at least, Amnesiac stands up reasonably well. Two songs are pretty bad, and two more are simply alright. However there are 11 tracks here, all over fairly quickly, which is another feature that surprises me in hindsight - the 2 minute interlude track aside, everything else is in the 3-5 minute range of the radio-friendly pop song - and most of it is perfectly accessible, even if it does contain elements that may not have been so in 2001. The other 7 range from good to great, sharing a mostly dark in tone which suits a November night.

It is not their best album, nor my favourite, but it is still a fine collection of tunes. I am not surprised to still approve.

All We Could Do Was Sing - Port O'Brien

Track List:

1. I Woke Up Today
2. Stuck on a Boat
3. Fisherman's Son
4. Don't Take My Advice
5. Alive For Nothing
6. My Eyes Won't Shut
7. Pigeonhold
8. Will You Be There?
9. The Rooftop Song
10. In Vino Veritas
11. Close the Lid
12. Valdez

Running time: 40 minutes
Released: 2008

Another total oddball that I cannot explain by any means. I have vague memories of buying this from Amazon, and similarly vague recollections of not liking it very much. I do not recall what prompted the purchase or what I did not like, however so it is entirely probable that one or both of those memories will turn out to have been bunk.

Such is life.

Quite a punchy start... rhythmic and with a catchy hook; almost African in origin. Just a shame about the vocal which is simply put: awful. Not only is it out of keeping with the music that it overlays, it is a very poor harmony - more shouted than sung. There is the basis of a good tune here, but that vocal spoils it. If it is a sign of vocals to come, the whole album is ditched. There is enough in the backing to make me hope that is not the case though - catchy, hooky, there is something here that intrigues me. I am glad to hear the infectiousness continue past track one, whilst the vocal is replaced with a more conventional one (albeit with echoes of poor harmony on choruses).

A quarter of the way through and the elements are gaining some consistency - for better and for worse. The singing is more bearable when it is just the lead vocalist, but his voice is not very palatable. There is a rawness there which makes everything sound slightly out of tune to me. The arrangements are neat though - they have a quintessentially catchy set up. The percussion is solid, and there are layers of strings (guitars, banjos, fiddles and cellos at different points, I think) that provide either a solid hook to hang everything on, or a layered sound that comes across as really rich - and frequently both.

The songs are pretty short on average too, which means even those that rely on a single hook repeated for the length do not have time to get boring. 12 tracks in 40 minutes is good for that. Pretty good for passing the time too... I am killing time before an agreed Borderlands: The Presequel co-op session, watching muted football on TV and soaking my sink strainers with industrial-strength cleaning fluid. Seriously, those things get rank. I expected a forgettable listen as a result, but there is a lot more to this album than I thought.

It does get into horrible noise at times though - I Woke Up Today showed them capable of it, and Pigeonhold confirms they can do it with the instruments as well as with vocal. Again, there are some pretty cool elements to the track, but the way everything comes together is pretty ugly. By contrast there are a couple of much lighter songs too - ones where the vocal is even largely pleasant and/or the menagerie of instrumentation gives way to a softer string backing.

The most engaging songs are somewhere in the middle though - Port O'Brien seem to me to be best when hooking you strongly and hammering an interesting little pattern on the rim of your eardrum. I would not call them world beaters. There is no sublime genius at work here, but there is plenty of genuine love and hard playing and the ear-catching qualities that only come when people are really into what they are doing. There is a Waits-y vibe to some of the combinations of off-beat percussiveness and muted string, and a backyard guitar session feel to others - I am trying and failing to come up with a good artist to compare with.

The only songs that bored me in any way (the couple of bad tracks were not boring) were Close the Lid, which I think this more down to the length and the fact it does give the hooks and form long enough to get stale, and Valdez. The latter closes the album; it refers to the infamous Exxon Valdez spill but it is just a little trite and lacking any interest.

I will be cutting a few tracks here, but not as many as I was expecting to go before I began. The album provided a pleasant surprise and a light mid-evening entertainment. I won't be buying any more though.

Alice - Tom Waits

Track List:

1. Alice
2. Everything You Can Think
3. Flower's Grave
4. No One Knows I'm Gone
5. Kommienezuspadt
6. Poor Edward
7. Table Top Joe
8. Lost in the Harbour
9. We're All Mad Here
10. Watch Her Disappear
11. Reeperbahn
12. I'm Still Here
13. Fish & Bird
14. Barcarolle
15. Fawn

Running time: 48 minutes

Released: 2002

Ah Tom Waits. I got into him late - and I still skip a lot of his material - but he has somehow found a place in my top 10 artists by # of plays over at LastFM. I think Alice was the first Waits album I bought actually - along with Blood Money - not that I remember what prompted me to do so. I think it may still be my favourite, but that sort of talk is liable to let me down as I suspect that my impression is overly reliant on the opening title track.

From the first line this is a tale of woe. Gravelly voiced, Waits recites over a lovely, evocative arrangement that perfectly conjures visions of a tumbledown, dark, sad milieu. It is a very disarming song and a strong opening that stands up very well to my initial impressions on buying it 12(!) years ago.

Looking down the track list, I can bring about half of them to mind, but Everything You Can Think is only familiar when it starts. The delivery here is harsh. The tune is similarly rag-tag and ramshackle as Alice was, but the tone is set by the vocal. This place is grim but there is beauty there too, as Flower's Grave takes over.

Waits' voice may be an acquired taste for some, but it is one well worth acquiring as he sculpts songs unlike any other. The first four on Alice are all slow, three of them are laments, but they are all stunning. Kommienezuspadt changes things up - it is faster, but incomprehensible. The mental image it conjures up is a run-down dive bar popluated by poor and in-between-worlds types getting in their fix of booze and gambling, grateful for not being out in the wider world just now. It is overly repetitive by design, the title repeated over and over, but it somehow works to build a picture whilst the bass and muted brass craft a bustle around it.

Poor Edward is a return to the lament - probably Waits' premiere form - and a really good example of it. Even more so than Alice. I wish I had the words to adequately convey the mastery exhibited here, but it is just too exquisite. Table Top Joe, which follows, is a bar-room, sozzled singalong tune and it feels important to lift the mood. There is a gorgeous piano line here that carries the tune nicely even as Waits devolves into scat. It disappoints me by having the tune fade out rather than end, though - a practice I am far from fond of.

Lost in the Harbour is one of those songs that I only recognise as it starts - a common occurrence in a library like mine, full of random bits and bobs and too large to know everything. It has some very odd bits in, this song, but overall it is still a wonderful track despite Waits' voice sounding even more strained than usual. Astounding to think that I am only half way through the disc at this point.

We're All Mad Here is the first disappointment on the album. It starts nicely, but despite being short, by the end it is meandering unguided towards dissatisfaction, aimless. Watch Her Disappear, which follows, is a story read out over more of the same period tunes - not so much a song, but a short dictation over backing. By the time Reeperbahn starts the tone is maudlin and the song is challenged to keep this going with tragi-comic subject matter; naturally, it does.

I'm Still Here is another beautiful piano melody, so nicely played that it made my hairs stand on end. It's a love song of sorts, celebrating longevity of relationships, even as they change. I had not realised until just now that these songs came from a play, but it makes perfect sense with the consistent ambiance and setting images that listening to it brings to mind. I feel the end of the album drops in intensity and in how compelling it is, but it drops from such a peak that the drop is forgivable, and in some respects the last tracks are the most melodic. Melody is not Waits' forte though so the close is more denouement than climax. The impression as Fawn ends is one of emptiness, but gladness that the listen is done. Forgivable though the reduction in quality is, it leaves the overall feeling of disappointment.  Alice is a wonderful album and it does not deserve to be parted with on such unfulfilled thoughts.