
British rockers Sharks originally formed in 2007, releasing several EPs and compilations before commencing work on their official debut LP. The band will release that effort, entitled No Gods, on March 20 via Rise Records after much touring in the States and back home in the U.K.“Arcane Effigies" is the new album’s first single, and it showcases the record’s melodic punk sensibility – almost a throwback to bands like The Clash and Husker Du.
Late last week word came down that Bob Mould had recruited No Age to perform a set of Hüsker Dü tunes it warmed my heart to know that the second best possible version of the band would indeed be hitting a stage. Sure, it may not be Mould, Grant Heart, and Greg Norton, but it will be the first time Hüsker Dü songs are played in a live setting in a few years and I’m excited for the chance to see (so long as I can find the cash to cough up!). It also led me down nostalgia road, listening to the old tunes and discovering them once again like I did somewhere in my teen years.
2008 was a shit year for music.
With the economy falling down around us, the music industry continued to crumble under the pressure of the internet…falling down, down, down and barely even pulling in a cent (or so they would like you to believe). Bands inspired by the few cash cows we have left aped and copied their way through records. Folks were led to believe that a band like Fleet Foxes made a better, more lasting impression with their record then say someone like Deerhunter did.
PARSLEY’S COMMLOCK
Obituary News: Patrick McGoohan, Sir John Mortimer QC
Patrick McGoohan, who died this week, was a captivating actor, who initially came to fame with the title role in Ibsen’s Brand, but then achieved public notoriety in the sixties, starring in the spy drama ‘Danger Man’ (‘Secret Agent Man’ in the USA). Reflecting McGoohan’s personal moral code he was the spy that never carried a gun, nor was he seen kissing.
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.
There are times when I actually forget how much The Clash means to me. They were the first band to show me that music could be intelligent and political, but that it could also be worth rocking out to, too. I finally managed to buy a copy of Live at Shea Stadium, albeit two months after its release, and it caused all those feelings bound up in The Clash to come flooding back to me, nearly making me cry. I suddenly felt younger and more idealistic again; I felt that I could fight with The Clash resonating in the pit of my stomach again. Their gig opening for The Who at Shea Stadium in 1982 is often regarded as their peak before their dissolution (though small cracks were beginning to show with the replacement of Topper Headon with Terry Chimes). There’s no doubt that this performance sees The Clash at the top of their game, but I often think that it also signified an irreconcilable paradox for the band, especially Joe Strummer.
I first fell in love with The Clash, which led to a passion for political, intelligent lyrics, and eventually to bands like the Manic Street Preachers, Gang of Four and McCarthy. Then I fell for Joy Division, which led to an intense admiration for lyrics and music that documented a fraught inner life and the turmoil and starkness of reality in a minimalist monochrome never heard before. The Clash tore down what music was the first time with punk. And Joy Division did it again with post-punk. Now the Glasgow-based band Stroszek, having fused the power of both bands into an ambitious, inspiring art and aesthetic, have a chance to bring music to its knees once more. It’s been well over a year since Stroszek released their first EP aptly entitled Demonstration, an unapologetically political piece with funereal undercurrents pulsing beneath all four tracks (for more information about Demonstration, see my earlier post about it). This month sees the release of their second EP entitled Manufacturing Consent, a nod to Chomsky and Herman’s seminal work on propaganda and the not-so-free press in "democratic" nations.
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