Viv Albertine - Flesh EP

According to Natasha Walter’s book published last month, we are witnessing a devious and modernised return of sexism and misogyny. Slight doom heralding it may be but perhaps with Viv Albertine from the iconic Punk band The Slits going solo, we can at least be reminded of a time when it was cool to deem yourself a feminist without the extreme Valarie Solanis implications.

Flat and band mate to Sid Vicious, film maker, ceramic sculptor, “only interested in love and sex as subjects”, her style may seem a little dated. Calling her debut Flesh for example and including a carefully positioned nude picture of herself on the CD, her groin in place of the middle hole so you have to slide your finger in when picking it up – these are laughable Punk’isms that I doubt will shock any member of my own fucked up generation. We take Punk humour as intended and are well over girls in Rock bands (at least I hope so… Christ).

Throughout the four track EP, there are remnants of what Viv originally brought to The Slits back in 1977 (an influence still felt today in all-girl bands such as Vivian Girls) and it’s especially apparent in the chorus line of ‘Never Come’. Her oh-so-British accent, sarcastic in its cute politeness, hasn’t changed much after 25 years. Neither have her themes of nihilistic romance and sexual freedom. The tone of her song writing is different; more nostalgic and with a faint hint of sorrow.

Overall, her EP is modestly arranged, soft but gutsy with varied attention to harmony and instrumentation (use of violin, rock organ and glockenspiel). ‘If Love’ beams with pleasure, like a kid with a balloon and ‘The False Heart’, despite it's clunky piano riff, sees Viv’s voice on great form, diminishing into a lovely silver whisper. But the best has to be the sneering ‘I Don't Believe/In Love’ featuring scraping guitar and general nihilism among the lyrics.

Of course there will be a group of people who’ll buy it out of blind dedication, novelty or nostalgia and I suppose it is the sort of music you’d hear at a Derek Jarman art exhibition surrounded by 40 year olds wearing black and complaining about the "apathetic youth of today". But unlike many other aging Punks, Viv Albertine is more in tune with the grace and wisdom that comes with age. This is not the solo career of some has-been shouting “I’ve still got it” while trying to reconnect with the kids. Flesh shows her fans something personal and reflective; delicate, fragile and human.

(© Copyright 2010 Brendan Morgan)

So So Modern - Crude Futures

Just days away from the UK, So So Modern prove they’ve not come all the way from New Zealand on an expansive world tour for nothing. Their debut Crude Futures is a powerful and frenzied ride and to think I didn’t even see it coming.

Let me explain: Here I was, a couple weeks ago, putting in work for an elaborate piece on ‘anti-music’, not realising that during all this time of preparation via myspace I’d been in fact following a band called Crude Futures from Brooklyn, spluttering over their insane tape experimentations and eye raping graphics; so foul, so abhorrent, the page is like a level of hell reserved for people in advertising.

Anyway it was all quickly forgotten at the first listen of So So Modern’s Crude Futures. Instantly satisfying, their espousal of recent familiarities, such as the school yard yelling of Animal Collective, the trendy guitar minimalism of Foals and the particalised electronics of Battles, suggest a well oiled machine instead of a band. Abrupt use of syncopation and odd time signatures would turn any dancer into a retard tripping up on his own shoelaces. They also cite mathematical theology and atomic vocabulary as influences – I doubt categorising them as Math-rock will come as much of a shock.

The review would feel incomplete without a mention of their live show, especially since it’s integral to the bands focus. I can only visualise the tension and electric energy of a So So Modern gig; no amount of youtube watching will suffice. Their performance of ‘Loose Threads and Theremins’ (unfortunately not included on the debut) is psychotic and disorientating, a hardcore vibe difficult to describe in words. Not even the band get it right: “we are a four-person collective interested in creating a more fun and meaningful future through performance and music”. More business statement than a rousing ideology, it doesn’t even come close.

Most of Crude Futures stays on an intense delirium which gives the release a somewhat lopsided feel. ‘Dusk and Children’ is their failed attempt at coming down – slow and ponderous at the beginning, even this track can’t keep its head hung down for long. Truly, their best moments are their most exhausting. ‘The Worst is Yet to Come’ contains more E numbers than a lick n' dip and ‘Dendrons’ puts it’s foot down with intricate phrase and weighty distortion. The hazy chords that open ‘Be Anywhere’, the complex yet thoughtful guitar melody of ‘Island Hopping/Channel Crossing’, the interstellar jamming of ‘Berlin’ are some of the record’s highlights.

On the war path from start to finish, So So Modern beg for not a second of your patience. Their cultivation of a shared experience between band and audience give them an edge over similar trends, and while Crude Futures may not be a profoundly unique debut, a doubling of exquisite musicianship and sheer gal will get them righteous attention.

(© Copyright 2010 Brendan Morgan)

Nedry - Condors

It’s not surprising that it’s taken this long for Dub Step to be adopted by the arty crowd. The scene is an obstinate one, made up of dedicated zealots and purists; people who would rather put a bullet through their own head than see it corrupted by the fools at Radio 1. The popular London trio Nedry is so far the finest example of this Art Dub hybrid seemingly hailing from an alternative universe where Brighton based Natasha Khan was swept up the local Dub Step scene.

The argument as to whether or not the genre has suffered from increasing exposure is an argument I’m steering clear of, mainly out of fear. I know some long-time orthodox followers who would have my balls for listening to this kind of ‘betrayal’. So let’s keep it quiet shall we?

Anyway from where I’m standing, it’s a win-some-loose-some situation. Softening the mood and adopting more recognisable structure and instrumentation may stifle the unpredictability and danger of Dub Step – taking it out of the club is like ripping the heart from a wild animal. On the other hand, what we gain is emotional depth and, just as evolution has been proven key to survival, a longer life span. This takes us back to Nedry. A little like Bjork’s silky whispers in Vespertine (2001), Ayu Okakita’s voice cries out over the grimy and alien synths provided by knob gnomes Matt Parker and Chris Amblin. It’s these contrasts of sparkle and grime, man and machine that is Nedry’s most formidable weapon.

Proving much in the first two tracks (‘A42’ and ‘Apples & Pears’), Condors' perfect flow screams at me for a detailed analysis: in the awesomely named ‘Squid Cat Battle’ they borrow from the 90’s electro of Garbage, then ‘Scattered’ kicks it away with a violent riff over a sprinting break beat. ‘Condors’ brings in some Math-rock guitar duels while ‘Swan Ocean’ drifts along like water in a Hokusai painting. The gloaming texture of ‘Where The Dead Birds Go’ signals an end instilling in the album’s briefness a yearning for more. Their pipeline tour of Japan (a country already at one with the future) sheds a light on their ambitions.

Nedry may be more accessible than pure cut Dub Step but the characteristic skin crawling nastiness has lost none of its potency. Just don’t expect to skank to it, that’s all. For me, Condors is a sort of futuristic prophecy depicting the slow choke of dehumanisation, coming down as soft and as cold as snowfall – as well as, on a more universal note, substantial evidence of Dub Step’s versatility.

(© Copyright 2010 Brendan Morgan)