The best known, Ero e Leandro, was premiered at the Turin Regio in to great success. Anyone interested in Italian opera of the period will find it an enjoyable discovery. This live performance from has some untidy moments orchestrally, though conductor Aldo Salvagno generally steers it along effectively Pacific Album Lyrics 1. Brainfighta 2. Chains 3. Hold Your Ground 4. Hoodies 5. Intro 6. Scene 3 7. The single also appeared on the Adult Alternative Songs at number 19 with 5. Lorde's production team built each set and shot the video in one day.
The video begins with Lorde singing in a faintly lit motel room, with a television displaying static and an unattended running car facing the window. The singer is styled in a white dress shirt, black slacks and her hair in a pompadour. The camera moves away towards a dark, abandoned road filled by smoke with only one street light beaming on the singer. As the chorus begins, a group of teenagers form a circle and point a flashlight at Lorde as she dances inside a hangar , which critics described as "twitchy" and "witchy".
She then arrives at a cocktail party where she falls into what critics described as a "surreal cliff";  the singer revealed that she cut her foot filming this scene. The video ends with her sitting alone on a bus stop bench as the camera pans away.
The frequent white colored fashion choices was compared by critics to Peeta's look in the movie during his video announcements in the Capitol. The video received positive reviews from critics; it was praised for its concept but criticised for not incorporating footage from the film. Lorde performed the song at the American Music Awards on 23 November Halfway through the song, the box was lifted, revealing Lorde wearing a white crop top and black pants outfit to the audience.
She was accompanied by a group of white-clad dancers. The publication also praised the singer's "exquisitely intimate and intense" moments inside the box in which she performed. Lorde and American rapper Kanye West produced a version of the song titled "Flicker Kanye West Rework ", included on the film's soundtrack album, at a studio in Malibu, California. I feel lucky to even be in a room with him. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
Art pop electropop. Paul Epworth Joel Little. Trap ambient. West Dean Goldstein. Lava Republic. Republic Records. Archived from the original on 9 January Retrieved 9 January The Sydney Morning Herald. Archived from the original on 30 September Retrieved 30 September Archived from the original on 1 October Rolling Stone. Archived from the original on 21 August The Guardian. Archived from the original on 8 September Retrieved 8 September Stutz, Colin October 21, My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
Why do you laugh then, when I said " man delights me not. What players are they 2 Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city. Here they are. Enter Polonius. My lord, J have news to tell you.
Hark you Guildenstern, and you too — Do you see him — He is xiot yet out of his baby clothes — Now listen ; He la come to tell me the players are come. The aciors are come hither, my lord. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, or poem unlimited; Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. What a treasure had he. Why — " One fair daughter, and no more. The which he loved passing well. Still on my daughter. Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah? If you call me Jei hthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love ] a8Hing well.
Nay, that follows not. Che mai segue?. Polonio, vanne, E fa clie accolti e ben provvisti siano Questi attori si eletti ; ho di lor arte Grand' uopo ; anzi tra poco, ad udirne il saggio 10 ne verro.
A me qui mi lasciate : il del vi guidi. Eccomi solo Oh vile, abbietto schiavo 1 Che pensi tu? Che vuoi? Come idiota Rimango nS formar sola una voce Poss' io? Nulla pel re che di sanguigno Tradimento infernal, vittima giacque? Vile son io I Chi vil mi noma? E mi costringe ad ingojar V infame Vergogna mia? E che fa il mio senno? L' ombra ch' io vidi Forse un demone fu, che talor veste Grata sembianza.
Ah 1 forse ei trasse 11 debile mio cor, la mia triatezza. Per dannarmi, in inganno. Or dunque In piu certo confin tenermi voglio ; E per coglier del re la coscienza, Ip gli preparo in questo dramma il laccio.
What follows, tlien, my lord! Why, " As by lot, God wot "—and then, you know, " It came to pass, as most like it was. These are our best actors ; I need their art greatly ; after a while I shall be glad to hear you. Follow him my friends. Leave me to myself. Heaven protect you. Exeunt Polonius and oiTiers. Now I am alone. Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Who would believe or think that I A dull and muddy-mettled rascal.
Like John a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause. Can say nothing ; no, not for a king. Upon whose property, and most dear Hie, A damned defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls nie villain? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? Who does me this? About my brains I I have heard, That guilty creatures, sitting at a play. Have, by the very cunning of the scene. Been struck so to the soul, that presently They have proclaimed their malefactions ; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.
I'll have these playew Play something like the murder of my father. Before mine uncle : I'll observe his looks ; I'll tent him to the quick ; if he do blench, I know my course.
The spirit that I have seen. May be a devil : and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape : yea, and, ]ierhap6. Out of my weakness, and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, AbuHes mo to damn me : I'll have grounds More relative than this : The play's the thing, Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the kiu'j. Ne ancor sapeste, ne' sagaci vostri Colloquii, indovinar, perche il martiri Si perigliosa e torbida foUia?
Ei smam il senno, e lo confessa ; pure Di rivelarne la cagion rifinta. Ne disposto il troviam ch' altri si faccia A investigarlo, Regl Ne gli feste invito. A spasso alcuno? Giunse per ventura, ScLiera d'eletti attori.
A tale annunzio Non so qual gioja nel suo volto apparve. Essi qui sono nel castello : e incarco Avean, cred' io, di far dinanzi a lui Alcuna prova di lor nobil arte In questa notte. Polo, il vero, Amleto istesso Per me, o signor, ti prega, e te regina, D' esser present! Tal rispostaa lui recate. Del coUoquiiJ Testimoni non visti esser vogliamo Noi stessi ; e avrero contezza se deliro J] d' amor che lo strugge. Io t' obbedisco. E in te, Ofelia, confido che la tua Alma bellezza del soffrir d' Amleto Sia la cagion verace, e che lo renda La tua virtude a noi.
Regina, il bramo. Rimani, Ofelia, e qui passeggia ; attcnta Su questo libro a meditar ti mostra, Che ti sia scusa del tuo gir solinga— Cosi un viso compunto, un atto pio E spesso larva alllnfernal nequizia. SCENE y. And can you, by no drift of conference. Get from him, why he puts on this confusion? He does confess he feels himself distracted ; But from what cause, he will by no means speak. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded. Did you assay him To any pastime Madam, it so fell out, that certain players We o'er-raught on the way : of these we told him ; And there did seem in him a kind of joy To hear of it : they are about the court ; And, as I think, they have already order This night to play before him.
With all my heart ; and it doth much content me To hear him so inclined. Convey our answer to him. Sweet Gertrude, leave us, too. For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither ; That he, as 'twere by accident, may here Affront Ophelia : Her father and myself lawful espials, Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen. I shall obey you : And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish.
That your good beauties be the happy cause Ot Hamlet's wildness ; so shall I hope, your virtues Will bring him to his wonted way again. Madam, I wish it may. Ophelia, walk you hero : Read on this book ; That show of such an exorcise may color Your loneliness. Thus with devotions visage, And pious act we oft do sugar o'er The Dovil himself. ROEU Pol. Ahi, troppo S ver I Di coscienza 6 questa Assidua spina in me. Guancia di druda Non par ei laida al liscio die la copre. Come, al false color di mie parole, il I'opera mia stessa!
Ahi greve soma! Ritiriamoci, o signore! Odo ch' ei viene. Amleto poi Ofelia. Essere, ovver non essere! Se 1' alma piii sia forte allora Che regge agli urti di fortuna e all' ire ; quando contro al mar delle sciagure. L' armi impugna e le affronta, a lor da fine.
Sognar fors' anco? Quai sogni allora in quel sonno di morte Verranno a jioi, f uggiti al gran tumulto Di questa vita? Chi mai vorria La sferza e I'onte sopportar del tempo ; Deir oppressor gli oltraggi o del superbo La contumelia ; di schernito amore L'angoscie, e il dure della legge indugio, E lo spregio codardo, ov' ei potesse Colla punta saldar dello stilletto Ogni ragion di vita? Tal, la coscienza King.
How true that is. How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience. The harlot's cheek beautied with plastering art, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it Than is my deed to my most painted word.
Oh heavy burden. I hear him coming ; let's withdraw, my lord. Enter Hamlet. To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ; Or to take arras against a sea of troubles, And, by opposing, end them?
To die ; — to sleep : — To sleep! Must give us pause : there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life: For who would bear the whips and scorns of time. The oppresser's wrong, the proud man's contumely. The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of oflBce, and the spurns That patient merit of the unwortliy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin?
To groan and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns — puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of?
Ne fa codardi tutti, e del piil saldo Uman consiglio, la natia virtude Al pallido riflesso del pensiero, Langue, scolora, e perde il nome d' opra — Non pivl, qui vien la bella Ofelia ; in tuo Pregar devoto de' peccati miei, O gentil, ti ricordi. Oil 1 buon eignore, Qual vivi tul Te ne ringrazio ; bene Signer, gia da gran tempo, alcuni pegni D' affetto io serbo, cbe rendere mi tarda. Nulla io mai ti diedi. Ben sai cio clie donasti ; e le parole, " E i sospiri soavi, ond' era il done Piu prezioso.
Or non ban piu profumo Que' doni, li riprendi : a nobil' alma Ogni piu ricco don povero fassi Quando scortese il donator si mostrn, Eccoli. Onesta sei? Sei bella? Che pensi? Se tu onesta e bella sei Non lasciar la onestade e la bellezzj Andarne insiem. Qual' 6 miglior compagna v Delia onesta cbe la bellezza?
Questa Trasmuta quello in sozza ffente, pria Che virtu doni alia beltd il suo lume. Un di t' amai. Di cio mi desti fede, Signor Perelie mi hai tu creOuto? Allora Io non t' amava.
E fu maggior I'inganno, Al chiostro vanne. Esser madre vuoi forse Di peccatori? Good my lord. How does your honor for tliis many a day? I bumbly thank, you : well.
My lord, I have remembrances of yours. That I have longed long to redeliver ; I pray you, now receive them. Oph, My honored lord, you know right well you did ; And with them, words of so sweet breath composed. As made the things more rich : their perfume lost, Take these again ; for to the noble mind. Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind. There, my lord. Ha, ha! My lord! Are you fair? What means your lordship? That if you be honest and fair, you should admit your honesty to no discourse with your beauty.
Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? Ay, truly ; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd, than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness ; this was some time a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. Indeed, my lord, you made mo believe so. You should not have believed roe; for virtue cannot so in- oculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it : I loved you not. I was the more deceived.
Ji'X theo to a nunnery. Why wouMst thou bo u l reoder of sinners? I am myself Indiffen'nt honest: but yet I could accuse myself Of such things, that it were bettor 52 Partorito mia madre! E perche tristi qual son' io, strisciando Andran fra terra e cielo?
Iniqui tutti, Sciagurati siam noi ; non metter fade In uman core — Al cliiostro vanne, al cliiostro. Ov' e tuo padre? Nella sua dimora. Aml Ohiudi le ports perch' ei non sia folle Fuor della stanza sua.
Pietoso cielo, Tu il soccorri! Se andar devi a marito Quest' angoscia abbi in dote : sii tu casta Qual gliiaccio, e pura piu che nev6, invauo Vorrai fuggir calunnia — Al cliiostro vanne. Al chiostro Addio. Voi lo sanate Del ciel potenze! Udii che tu primeggi, Nel porti il liscio. Dio vi diede un volto, E ve ne fate un' altro. A batter giga A gire al? Non piu connubi al mondo! We are arrant knaves all : Believe none ot us ; go thy ways to a nunnery.
At home, my lord. Let the doors be shut upon him that he may play the fool nowhere but in's own house. Oh, help him you, sweet Heavens! Thou sbalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool ; For wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. Heavenly powers, restore him 1 Ham. I have heard of your paintings, too, well enough : Heaven hath given you one face.
And you make yourselves another ; you jig. You amble, and you lisp, and nickname heaven's creatures, And make your wantonness your ignorance. I say, we will have no more marriage ; Those that are married already, all but one.
Shall live ; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go. End of Second Act. Sola del Teatro. II Re, Polonio ed Ofelia.. Re, Forza d'amor, non segue qaesta traccia, Ne ci6 cli' ei disse per demenza. Ei cova. Ben altro, forse, in f ondo al core ; e grave Sciagura io ne pavento. Ho risoluto. Cli' egli tosto si rechi in nostro nome Del negletto tributo a far ricliiamo Nella Brettagna ; e forse, i nuovi mari E diverse contrade, e strani oggetti , Sbandir potran la cura ond' ha si oppressa La mente che smarri 1' usata via Che pensi?
Pu6 giovar ; ma del suo duolo, Lo credi, o re, solo principio e fonte, E amor negletto. Ofelia, cio die udisti Ripetere non giova ; h a noi palese — Ma innanzi che b' adempia il piacer tuo, Siguor, consent! Io stesso Udiro le lor parole e dove ancora Nulla si scopra Re. Polonio U accompagna ma suhito ritorna. Amleto, Rosadorno, Gildesterno, Polonio poi Orazio. Dite, o amici, son presti omai gli attori? Signor, se a te gradisce Aml. Ecco Polonio — Buon signor mio, che disse il re? Gli piace Di qui venirne al Dramma?
Re-enter King and Polonius. Lis affections do not that way tend, Nor what he spake, Wiis not like madness. There's something? He shall with speed to Enorland, For the demand of our neoflectod tribute ; Haply, the seas, and countries different, With variable objects, shall expel This something-settled matter in his heart ; Whereon his brain's still beating-, puts him thus From fashion of itself : What think you on't?
Pshychic is a jaw-dropping, fresh mini-masterpiece from this obscure Japanese three-piece: just five epic pieces which beggar description, but certainly have a superficially similar sound design to that other genius of 21st Century Jap-pop, Cornelius.
At times, Buffalo Daughter sound like the bastard spawn of hypnotising minimalist Terry Riley, or the autistic children of frantically cross-picking King Crimson guitarist Robert Fripp.
But it's far too free-falling to be nailed to any particular genre, just an insanely enjoyable ride by a group who haven't heard it's not cool to be clever. This is how pop music should be: just indulgent enough to let a song grow to a 15 minute-long epic. The directors' cut, then. Invented instruments abound, with fetching names like Gloopdrum, Numdrum and Zitherum. Understandably less rhythmically focussed than much of his prior work, these pieces encompass overtone singing, and a veritable magic bag of odd sounds which evoke everything from native bird song to battling rubber bands.
Top 10 material, then. Her faultless interpretations constantly reveal the finer points, while an equally flawless backing band is capped by the luxurious orchestrations of Eumir Deodato. Proving that French sensuality, Jamaican bass bliss, liquid African funk, and even Indian sitars can cohabitate on the same CD, The Outernational Sound contains all the right ingredients for a fine night in.
It's nothing short of a crime when music is this devoid of character, quirk, or anything resembling an original idea. The boys do not light up.
Poor us. Sitting through these three discs is sheer torture. A kind of late-career recapitulation, Heart And Soul is a sad stab at a bunch of old songs with funkless, flaccid backing arrangements. The second disc is a woefully ordinary live performance, and the third a track DVD with an endless parade of hammy femme fatales and more dull 80s beats than you could shake a drum stick at. Unsurprisingly fluid and slowly swinging, the largely acoustic canvas is inflected with mild jolts of electronica.
The biggest shock is the decision to run with part-English lyrics. I still can't decide whether this is totally inspired or the worst pile of doggy-do I've heard all year, but it's intriguing.
This New York-based group sound a little like avant-rockers Pere Ubu, and a lot like many other post punk art rock groups from the late 70s Gang Of Four.
But then they throw a sizeable spanner in the works by adding loopy four-part harmony, like the Beach Boys in their most crazed psychedelic moments. Coming from the more organic end of the electronically assisted dance market, highlights here are cuts by Wellington-based Murk and Mephisto Jones. At its best, there's a genuine Pacific influence and a charming quirk factor; the downside is the vacuity of jazz noodlers like Lewis McCallum and One Million Dollars.
Despite my misgivings, this is impressive stuff. Medulla is almost entirely a cappella — overdubbing her own voice and utilising the massed beauty of both the Icelandic and London choirs — except for a few programmed beats here and there.
Astonishingly, the result is mesmerising; and even more surprising is its accessibility, as Bjork gets her chops around vocal melodies of often hummable catchiness. An eccentric compilation that actually works, Life:Styles keys in to the most radical period of funk and jazz — through the mids — and comes up with a selection as fertile now as it was in the foment of the hippy era and the black rights movement.
And it even has comedic song descriptions. An intriguing concept, or a pain in the posterior? Both, maybe, on this project with separate albums on the left and right channels, by Wendyhouse members EE Monk and Mr Pudding, respectively.
Wendyhouse are a marvelous throwback to the post-punk era of do-it-yourself invention, where ramshackle home-made music was valued as folk art, and an album could contain any amount of experimentation, and stylistic deviation.
Buttons are pushed squarely, heart-strings pulled plangently, and the massed ranks of the LSO and the Youth Choir of Great Britain swell impressively. Mainly of interest because the texts are infiltrated with some unlikely sources including chants from the Koran , this is a necessarily sober, spectacularly unsubtle, but stirring listen.
And it comes with a handy lyric sheet! With bass enhancement. The many musical cliches are easily forgiven, as the various elements together with a slick, fat-bottomed production combine to seduce with all the expertise of a top-class hooker. Fans of the 70s radio favourites will doubtless delight on their Mac reborn into the 21st Century albeit without the pivotal character of Christine McVie , and most of the hits and more are trotted out to an enthusiastic arena audience.
Honestly, Homelife are utterly impossible to describe, but the cocktail they whip up is fragrant, seductive, intensely tasty, and addictive. Lucky third is superior in its execution, cohesion, and general level of artistry.
Of the international contingent, French band Inrush-A have a fresh zing to their warm, sensuous grooves, and Aussie reggae piece The Red Eyes are all wrong, but are all the more charming for it. That says something about a group whose members are probably sweet boys, but whose music thankfully sounds more like the New York Dolls than The Feelers. But, despite allowing famed producer Youth to boss them around in the studio, the result is about as arresting as a 3rd form high school impersonation of Coldplay.
Cold sick in short pants, in other words. There are moments in which Interpol harness a dingey, majestic power on this, the second album. Michael Stipe is full of observations about relationships and the state of the world. On this obscenely speedy follow-up to her covers project The Soul Sessions, the English rose collaborates with the A-List of American soul and funk veterans. Her vocals flawlessly emulate those black soul divas from the 60s, while the backing is mostly a kind of acoustically enhanced, organic funk that would only be possible in a post-Norah Jones world.
Far from being a cult or a mere novelty, with their sophomore effort The Polyphonic Spree have become one of the freshest — and most refreshingly nerdish — contemporary outfits. As he hits 60, we could forgive Waits for retreating into his dotage. Instead, the guy discovers human beat-boxing a rap technique and applies his own rules to the art.
View the Waits project as a cinema for the ears — a kind of filmic folklore - however, and his persona takes on a renewed virility. Real Gone is real hard to mine for its jewels, but some will find its mix real rich. Is it any good? Well, turns out that much of Smile is available already, scattered across patchy Beach Boys albums from the late 60s and early 70s.
In a word: yes. Shanghai Lounge Divas is an astonishing case in point: recently, hundreds of rare recordings from the decadent pre-communist Chinese cabaret scene of the s were found languishing in a basement.
Back then, Shanghai rocked to the somewhat unique Chinese interpretation of swing, and had its own roster of glamorous divas. Shanghai Lounge Divas gives the listener two options: One disc features 24 of these original recordings in all their scratchy glory, while the other is a song electronic remix by Ian Widgery. Zeroing in on masters of proto-ambience like Erik Satie and Claude Debussy, Coco and Puttnam tread a fine line between sonambulance and quietude.
One longs for the intellectual rigour with which Brian Eno approaches the ambient conundrum, but Remasterpiece, despite its many faults, will prove a godsend for stressed out executives looking for some musical nerve-tonic. There are plenty of pleasingly groove-some moments here, but its roll-call of US rappers makes for an album that never asserts its personality. Weighing heavily on the historic, highlights include the theme to La Strada, and Love Scene from Vertigo.
These days, Costello is a champion of the great American traditions, and even releases quasi-classical albums. In contrast to so many songwriters of his years, Costello is going through a mid-career catharsis, a prolific stream that seems as strong as nature.
Right on form. His ivy-encrusted, deeply melancholic take on English folk songwriting is draped across a mere three albums. Largely because of a sound bite in an American Volkswagon ad, interest in Nick Drake is at fever pitch, hence this new compilation, released in Super Audio format. Contemporaries of Drake like Roy Harper, John Martyn and Richard Thompson who contributes guitar to several tracks have a much greater palette; a little can go a long way, as Drake sacrifices musical contrast to concentrate on mood over matter.
Yes, that James Last. By and large, his catalogue of oompa-pah arrangements is execrable. Sure, hundreds of electronic and hip-hop acts have sampled his cheesy orchestrations, but surely in an almost satirical manner.
Responsible for some of the great crossover hits of country music, Nelson is also a brilliant interpreter, and It Always Will Be is a notable exposition of both. Personally, I am tempted to add one. In fact, it has a dedication to the groove ideal that 70s funksters Parliament would surely approve.
So style is all. A kind of electro-house fusion, where the beats are aided and abetted by electronics, the music itself has generous dollops of performed melodies. Picking up on the cool West Coast jazz of the 60s see Horace Silver Moulin genetically modifies the blueprint. That aside, Three Imaginary Boys, in all its imperfect, dated glory, is still a key release for anyone investigating a particularly invigorating era.
When Dimitri burst on the DJ scene in the late 90s, his sensual French style with its knowing wink was a welcome respite from an increasingly generic house music scene. While it never entirely escapes the whiff of a souvenir programme, Too Much Talent is just wacky enough to make you want to repeat the experience.
Patchy, but sporadically topnotch. You can feel the love with which this Auckland-based group have applied to the mastering of 60s-style effects like backwards guitar, modified vocals and even shock!
Moody Blues-style keyboard sounds. And most of the time, it works. Wearing its cheese on its sleeve, the irony of some of these 80s-referring, cheap synthesiser-infested slices of dancefloor bliss just increases the all-round fun. Amon Tobin is a Brazilian-born electronic musician who has made five outstanding albums for the very hip UK label, Ninja Tune. Not so here. The way Tobin has responded to the challenge is to simply make what could possibly be his best album yet. Occasionally nerve-shredding, but a good thrill is its own reward.
But nothing could prepare the listener for an album of such scope and possibly pretension as his third album, Want Two the follow-up to Want One, natch. The chap has a penchant for singing in Latin, and for giving the project an outrageously operatic flourish.
There are orchestras and too much passion to sneeze at. Is this guy serious? It appears so. If you can handle the ambition and perhaps, the conceit of someone part Bjork, part Jeff Buckley, part Brian Wilson, then Want Two is an intriguing proposition. What makes it a listenable experience, however, is its variety. Weak points? There are a few. But overall, it rocks. He was right. The weird thing? Some of my favourite Young listening experiences have been on shitty old stereos playing shitty old vinyl.
If you just need one shot of Young, this is for you. Bear in mind, however, that many of these dance-oriented exponents come from the UK, France, the US… in fact, anywhere but the middle east!
Had Bathgate not been a former member of Toy Love, and half of Tall Dwarfs, however, one suspects that The Indifferent Velvet Void might have met with an entirely indifferent reception. These are subtle semi-acoustic arrangements with unobtrusive fragrances of string parts wafting through, but only when considered necessary. His work is exemplary, and the album has a beautifully crisp, and detailed sound that perfectly suits the material. On that CD, Conor Oberst aka Bright Eyes sings his well crafted story-songs to a skeletal backing, albeit one which includes the odd backing vocal from the likes of Emmylou Harris.
If you like your singer-songwriters layered and wrapped in sounds which illustrate the narrative in vivid colours, this album comes highy recommended. Her vocal prowess is such that she teaches other singers how to improve their game, and you can see why: her intonation, pitch, and generalised delivery are quantized on microbiotic levels.
How did they get it up so high? Well, sleep upside like bats, of course. Could this signal the return of Big Hair Rock?
Nearly twenty years later, does the project still resonate, or were the claims then made against Simon of cultural imperialism now self-evident? Still, this will be hugely nostalgic to many, and is instantly identifiable. So far, so strange. Its style bears more than a passing resemblance to Detroit techno, with its squirming, tight-ass bass lines, chattering drum machines, and nicely stereo-panning synthesiser chordings.
But added to the sound palette are subtle nuances, such as Afro-Latino percussion, that raise Theme For A Broken Soul from wine-bar status to an oddly compelling late-night lounge-lizard workout. D on deck, this one is hard to ignore. Nice to see that tiny fishing island Okinawa — with its eccentric bouncy folk songs — given a strong representation.
This is all sonically pleasing stuff, and a great Sunday afternoon listen all the same. Civello comes from Rome, now lives in New York, and her album is a genuinely fresh frisson of Italian, Latin American and jazz influences, with the addition of intimate singer-songwriter sensibilities.
This kind of thing too easily gets put through the schmaltz blender in its production stages, but Last Quarter Moon hits the same kind of husky sensuality that Sade did at her very best.
While those who hate the piston-shagging sound of techno will never warm to this, if Daft Punk are allowed a third chance then this should be clogging up the dance clubs this Autumn-into-Winter. With the likes of Kristin Hersh Throwing Muses cooing away in the background and an open-ended, bluesy ambience, Doe has come up with an effortless winner. Heavily influenced by the more wayward 60s pop of Buffalo Springfield and other connoisseur choices, it subtley utilises contemporary electronic technology.
And the group come from two typically mutually exclusive locations: West Texas and Manchester, England. The songs on this second effort, however, are the slimmest of propositions. Trust Me, inparticular, sounds like it took all of five minutes to conceive and execute. For undemanding ragers only. Despite bravely attempting a song-based album, and refusing the usual sample loops, the man is fatally hampered by weak vocals, and arrangements that have belligerently failed to germinate in the compost heap of history.
Texas pianist Moran and pals take their inspiration from s blues styles, but shift idioms to semi-improvised jazz that has none of the safe-as-milk classicisms of Wynton Marsalis.
Aping the working style of earlier Brixton outfits like Soul To Soul and Massive Attack, Boomclick is something of a co-operative, with both male and female vocals. Later, Mogwai let loose on several epics which build to spectacular fireworks climaxes, demonstrating how they helped to launch a whole genre of post-rock groups with a fondness for a slow build to massive musical orgasm.
Still, those of us who had stopped waiting have been surprised with a bounteous release indeed. Not only is the Toy Love album carefully remixed, but just about every other example of their pop genius is here, including A and B sides and numerous demos. Those tracks, largely on the second disc, reveal a group whose restlessness demanded constant revision of songs. There were more aesthetically commanding exponents of spiky post-punk, but Toy Love which included later Flying Nun stalwarts Chris Knox and Alec Bathgate made a pitch for conventionally melodic pop music being as raw, bleeding and authentic as it needed to be.
VDGG were hugely influential while remaining essentially obscure. Amazingly, they still do. On Present, the classic lineup and sound is intact, without once resorting to nostalgia. That might just ruin the sense of community. But this compilation of four recent albums and a few unissued tracks — even with star turns by BB King, Paul Weller, Jools Holland and Randy Newman — shows that the gruff voiced pianist is working with an endlessly regenerative gumbo.
Archival bliss. Swedish DJ Beyer could be German, for all the boom-jiggy, boom-jiggy, stiff-backed Teutonic rhythms going on here, and most of the artists he chooses for this seamless mix album sound very similar. Unlike the musically adventurous sampling scientists Amon Tobin springs to mind , these guys tend to stick to fairly safe territory of rare groove licks. I take it all back. In a just world, this would be a hit. Murkwon raps, sings and grooves with a confident swagger that might just be a little frightening for all those proponents of the typical musical malnutrition coming out of Wellington.
Thirty years on, then. Until now. While his voice-box might not have the shrieking power of yore, these are surprisingly resonant songs, which manage to be as young as tomorrow and as old as a river. They certainly have on the debut album by Skallander, a duo comprising Wellington-based Bevan Smith and Hungarian-based Matthew Mitchell. Smith is internationally renowned for his electronic work with Signer and Aspen, while Mitchell is apparently famed for his jazz and improvisational chops.
Components include atmospheric ambient drones on what sound like both guitars and keyboards, gently picked acoustic guitars, dubby basslines, subtle electronic percussion, and half-whispered vocals. The result is an altogether enticing record which successfully communicates in the most intimate of terms without ever getting at all steamed up.
Despite moments of aural bliss, however, the thing is a bit like a ship with a sail but no wind to fly it. These pop youths are enamoured with the moods and harmonies of the Beach Boys for instance without being overwhelmed by their legendary predecessors. Their sound occasionally incorporates a Stone Roses-style dance beat; remarkably, the group is capable of intelligent smooch, tearful breakup paens, and can even rock out when required. This sour old coot had forgotten about the simple pleasures of pure pop, but Diefenbach named after a particularly annoying character in the film Fargo, apparently has made it real again.
Perhaps the most notable thing here is the still tangibly wacky novelty song, I Love Onions. Though minor in cultural import, any exploration of our often tacky pop history is worthy for archeological reasons. A pity, then, that the uncredited liner notes — while telling her story — pay scant attention to standard rules of spelling and punctuation.Software Sites Tucows Software Library Shareware CD-ROMs Software Capsules Compilation CD-ROM Images ZX Spectrum DOOM Level CD. Featured image All images latest This Just In Flickr Commons Occupy Wall Street Flickr Cover Art USGS Maps. Metropolitan Museum. Top NASA Images Solar System Collection Ames Research Center.