As promised, here is my email interview with Simon Indelicate. As expected, he gives thought-provoking, articulate answers – enough to stimulate many further intellectual debates. He did the The Indelicates’ b(r)and proud.

Well, the Manics have finally come out of Rockfield studio and officially announced the release date and details of their next album, Journal For Plague Lovers.

As last year, I will not be able to attend the music lover’s paradise, South by Southwest, and will have to explore the roster of artists from the swivel chair in front of my laptop (if I spin around fast enough every so often, I can attempt to simulate the dizziness brought on by wanting to see so many bands at once).

I stumbled across London-based, self-proclaimed "crap novelty punk" band The New Royal Family through the incestuous web of MySpace - it could have been through the Luxembourg page or The Melting Ice Caps or…I can’t completely remember. At any rate, I’m glad I found them because they are punk in all its provocative and fancy dress glory; they retain that original spirit of punk that was provocative for provocation’s sake and too difficult for irony to pin down and flatten. Featuring a revolving line-up of former members of bands like Gay Dad, The Boyfriends, Linus and Luxembourg (not to mention someone who used to drum for The Monochrome Set), the New Royal Family is now releasing a triple b-side to follow up their sold-out limited edition 7" Anyone Fancy a Chocolate Digestive?, and it continues the line of raucous, ludicrous (ludiraucous?) songs. There’s a bit of the Art Brut spirit about them, and their jesting veneer, like all jesting veneers, covers the cleverness beneath.

I’ve read a fair amount of band/artist biographies with varying amounts of interest(oddly enough, as much as I love the band Pulp, their 400-page biography by Mark Sturdy was one of the hardest to conquer). I stumbled upon Michael Bracewell’s 2008biography of Roxy Music, Re-Make/Re-Model: Becoming Roxy Music, by accident while looking for other Michael Bracewell books. You see, I quite like Bracewell’s ideas and style; I’ve read both England is Mine: Pop Life in Albion from Wilde to Goldie and When Surface Was Depth: Death by Cappuccino and Other Reflections on Music and Culture in the 1990’s, which both gave me fascinating intertextual insights into popular culture from vastly different angles. The former probes various aspects of Englishness from arcadia to suburbia via John Betjeman, Lindsay Anderson films and The Cure while the latter discussed the atmosphere of the 90s, including a shift from irony to "authenticity" and the gentrification of the avant-garde, and explored topics from Britpop to Howard Devoto to the Millennium Dome to American pop group, Hanson. These earlier works point to Bracewell’s intelligent wit and extensive research, aspects which definitely infuse Re-Make/Re-Model. The key difference with Bracewell’s take on Roxy Music’s biography, or the band biography genre in general, is that he strictly focuses on the way the band came about; once the band gains a record deal and creates their self-titled first album, the book ends. By the way, this book is nearly 400 pages long. And I finished it in a few days. The difference between this book and that massive history of Pulp is the almost academic take on the ideas, art and socio-historical forces that shaped the band and their music. This book isn’t about a meticulous chronology of singles, albums and gigs, power struggles, band member departures, and outrageous gossip. This book isn’t about a band’s personal relationships as such; it’s more about the constellation of people and ideas that provided the perfect conditions to create such a unique band which took high and low art and married them with a camp aesthetic.
The book is divided into three main sections: Newcastle 1953-1968, Reading, Ipswich, Winchester 1964-1969, and London 1968-1972. In doing this, Bracewell can thoroughly discuss the milieus from which Bryan Ferry, Andy Mackay and Brian Eno emerged, parallel them, and then join them up in the final section. Of course there are plenty of interviews with the band members themselves, but there are equal amounts, if not more, interviews with people who had contact with the band members, and in effect, "made" Roxy Music as much as Ferry, Mackay and Eno. In the Newcastle section, you learn about the Richard Hamilton-influenced art school concepts that surrounded Ferry and his fellow students, including Rita Donagh, who eventually ended up teaching at Reading University where Andy Mackay was studying English and Music. Hamilton and his postmodern pastiche, Pop Art ideas and Duchampian aesthetics become clear foundations for Roxy Music’s borrowing from an eclectic, extensive palette for both their music and their image. But in addition to these high art philosophies, Ferry and his colleagues were equally exposed to Club A-Go-Go, a venue that held lunchtime dances for Newcastle’s working class, and the social significance of mod clothing at Marcus Price.
I realize that I’ve generally been in the habit of reviewing full albums (or at the very least a substantial amount of tracks from an artist) rather than just singles. There’s a good reason for that: I don’t like writing really short posts if I don’t have to. Not to mention it’s sometimes difficult to judge an artist by one or two songs. However, lately, I’ve come to the conclusion that some singles deserve a proper public airing, especially as they fill my inbox with aural euphoria, so I’m going to start a semi-regular series that showcases these singles independent of a full album review or in the absence of an album at all.
The Melting Ice Caps/The Soft Close-Ups - Like a Souvenir/Birthmark
I’ve posted about ex-Luxembourg vocalist David Shah’s more recent work with The Melting Ice Caps before, and here’s a bit more erudite brilliance with the free double a-side single shared with a duo project he’s part of, The Soft Close-Ups. Like a Souvenir, The Melting Ice Caps’ track, is a bittersweet ballad, which carefully treads the wire between the cynicism and sincerity mentioned in the lyrics; it is both wryly self-deprecating and painfully earnest, and features the genius lyric, "I was a card-carrying socialite/Til they made me carry a card." It ends in a spoken recitation that includes the verse:
It’s been awhile since I’ve posted a cover versions mix (and I’ve felt a little harried this week with both the volunteering and freelance work), so here’s my rather lazy attempt. I would like to mention the War Child Heroes album since it’s being touted as "The Ultimate Covers Album." As per usual, War Child is releasing an album with proceeds going to benefit children affected by war, but this year the idea was to get musical "heroes" to pick artists from the younger generation to cover a song from their back catalogue. I may not like all the tracks on the album, but there are some rather excellent ones, including TV on the Radio covering David Bowie’s "Heroes," Scissor Sisters covering Roxy Music’s Do the Strand, Rufus Wainwright covering Brian Wilson’s Wonderful and Song For Children, Hot Chip covering Joy Division’s Transmission, and Peaches covering Iggy Pop’s Search and Destroy. You can find out how to order the UK version and how to pre-order the North American versions on the War Child MySpace.
This mix has got a fair bit of 80s covering going on, but it also includes Camera Obscura’s excellent version of the most famous ode to a spotlight and Devendra Banhart’s stripped-down re-working of Oasis (he actually makes it relatively palatable with his Marc Bolanesque bleat). This one’s called Re-Make/Re-Model.

I already did a fairly comprehensive rant about last year’s Brit Award nominations, and when I first saw the Brit nominations for this year, I just expelled a huge sigh and asked myself, why bother wasting my energy again over a year that clearly mirrors last year’s nominations and many of the preceding disappointing years? Then I had another think, and figured "because it could be funny."
While basing an entire mix on song titles with colours in them may seem like a cop-out, I would like to offer a little more commentary than pointing out that many bands put colours into their band names and song titles. In fact, I’m quite fascinated by the involuntary neurological phenomena of colour synesthesia in which a person can see colours in response to aural stimuli, most often music. I first heard about this phenomena via an episode of QI, and I was a little surprised when I, too, saw the "correct" colour associated with the musical tone provided. I know I likely don’t have the actual condition in which colours involuntarily flash before my eyes while listening to music, but I feel like I may experience some sort of sensory crossover, and you may have noted some of this visual, colourful aspect creeping into my music reviews and descriptions. I, myself, hadn’t thought about it too much, but in looking back, it seems I do insert colour imagery into how I experience music; of course this may also just be part of painting pictures with words, a feature of my writing that has always been there. Or maybe I watched too much Fantasia as a child.

As if he weren’t busy enough last year, Sune Rose Wagner, better known as one half of The Raveonettes, digitally released a self-titled solo album back on December 8, but I’ve just gotten around to listening to it now. This record highlights an interesting issue that crops up for me once and awhile, namely assessing music with lyrics in a language I have no knowledge of.
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