Showing posts with label Flaming Lips. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flaming Lips. Show all posts

Thursday, 15 October 2009

N.A.M.B. – BMAN


Hailing from Italy, N.A.M.B. have been deliberately cryptic online about the meaning behind their initials. Is this to enforce open interpretation on us or is it simply a dastardly promotional tool? Yeah, I know: yawn! Let’s get down to how they sound.

Way back in 2002, The Flaming Lips made a compilation of their first three studio albums called ‘Finally The Punk Rockers Are Taking Acid’. Interestingly, N.A.M.B have been compared to The Flaming Lips (debatable in my opinion) but in context, a more accurate version of that title would be 'Finally The Punk Rockers Have Gotten Into The Beatles'. N.A.M.B. are what would ensue if the band from Liverpool rose out of the 80’s instead of Chuck Barry Rock n’ Roll. A dangerous statement I am aware but the two are similar only in creative approach. Perhaps a link to Supergrass or suggestions of psychedelic Punk would be safer to claim.

BMAN is an ambitious, Rock-of-all-types record with intentions of international recognition - an eighteen track labour of love chocked full of driving guitar, unusual changes in mood and structure, echoing textures and surprising effects, contrast and unity. What remains consistent throughout is their humour and ‘throw it all in’ ethic. Earning his position at the front, Davide Tomat (guitar/vocals) has a rich tone and a powerful delivery achieving David Bowie style singing acrobatics. Some tracks of note are the uncannily drunk ‘Musichetta In Pausa Sigaretta’ and the cloud gazing ‘Hate My Telephone’.

So, despite my premature reservations, N.A.M.B are not wise guys, banishing abbreviations and trying to be clever. This, their Big Second Album, is a push forward for them, a proud accomplishment; but let it roll around in your head for a few days and the record becomes more like a prog misadventure by Feeder. So much for The Beatles. Still, with this much crammed in, it’s bound to appeal to a great many tastes.

(© Copyright 2009 Brendan Morgan)

Tuesday, 1 September 2009

New Singles: Black Moth Super Rainbow's The Sticky and Randan Discotheque's Daily Record and Time To Waste


BLACK MOTH SUPER RAINBOW - THE STICKY
Come, come let The Black Moth Super Rainbow screw about with your childhood memories. The BBC workshop synths and vocoder rambling may evoke a carefree response but instead of transporting you back to the comforting days of long summers and peanut butter sandwiches, its affect simulates being trapped in a creepy kids TV show.

Very few of us would be able to keep a grip on their sanity while inescapably stuck in the world of The Magic Roundabout. This is precisely the reason why we don't give children acid. For sure, the reoccurring phrase "you and me, we're going to melt away like apples in the ground" holds anything but Disney schmaltz. The humid, electronic psychedelia suggests Lemon Jelly or Caribou, putting on masks made of wax and acting out German Fairytales.

At just over two minutes long, it's a short and simplistic release containing nothing overtly new (in fact, dangerously close to their classic 'Sun Lips'). Ideally, their newest album Eating Us where this record is plucked from will expose them to a wider audience. It is now that Black Moth Super Rainbow can begin to test their fans patience and drive their unique Halloween road show to more sublime destinations.


RANDAN DISCOTHEQUE - DAILY RECORD MAY 18TH 1993 and TIME TO WASTE
I wouldn't be the first of Bearded's writers to notice that there's something going on up in the cold and crazy Scottish hills. Randan Discotheque, the baby of songsmith Craig Coulthard, belt out two marvellous tunes on this double sided single and make a name for themselves.

In the catchy electro vein of the early 90's, 'Daily Record' is a window into one day in the Daily Record paper. Frankly, it's a cheap attempt to revive the by-gone era (also particularly strange when Craig says in a perky voice "a friend's legs were blown off by an IRA bomb") But despite this behaviour, it manages to come through after a couple of listens.

'Time To Waste' begins like a long lost Television track. A groovy bass riff punctuated by scratchy guitar frets. Damn cool. I'd bet you've always wondered what Jefferson Airplane would sound like if they came from a New York art school? Of course you have - Craig's echoing vocals over rolling blues answer your question.

Incorporating all sorts of ideas, Randan Discotheque's range may be broad but it still presents them with the problem of what exactly to rest on. It would be easy to label them as purveyors of Scottish indie charm but I doubt that would go down too well.

(© Copyright 2009 Brendan Morgan)

Sunday, 9 August 2009

Windmill - Epcot Starfields


The second album release from London's singer songwriter Windmill sees his themes of alienation and displacement launched into cold, dark space to explore the empty stratosphere that engulfs our insignificant little blue planet.

Windmill, known to his bloods as Mathew Thomas Dillon, has a peculiarly characteristic voice. Cartoon-like yet on the verge of tears, it's a shot away from Wayne Coyne or Bright Eyes. The attraction is its weakness and trembling insecurity.

Each song is unassumingly simple and built firmly around the piano - an excellent instrument to convey intimate sadness and isolation (so long as you stay clear of Elton John and that sonofabitch Chris Martin). Dillon often sings in unison with a deliberately off key backing ensemble sounding like a sing-a-long in a school play. A few standout tracks such as 'Sony Metropolis Stars', 'Big Boom' and my favourite 'Photo Hemispheres' decorate the album with uplifting hymns.

One of the most thoughtful lines comes from 'Imax Raceway':
"We want our parents to live for always / they won't, they don't want us to be sad"
(pronounced 'seead' by Dillon in his pseudo American accent) These melancholy truisms remind me of the bite-sized philosophies of The Flaming Lips or Mercury Rev. In a sense, we define our lives by these brief reflections, but unlike the grand, collective unity behind The Flaming Lips, Dillon keeps us at a distance. His detachment is key to his creative individuality.

Epcot Starfields, designed around a childhood trip to EPCOT in Florida, is a beacon of hope. Hope that a future existence will have meaning - not just made up of brand names or technological faff - and that his unique voice will be heard a million light years away. There's a lot to like about Windmill. Scared, anxious, lost and disillusioned, he's one of us:
"I find it compelling that even when armed with the knowledge of our mortality, people's ideas are limitless"
(© Copyright 2009 Brendan Morgan)

Sunday, 18 January 2009

The 'Floyd-Wizard' Syncronicity Effect


We all are aware of Pink Floyd's ability to weave powerful, forward-thinking rock. We know too well. We hear it over and over again, on every Rockumentary, in every 100 Greatest Albums list. The Dark Side of the Moon continually gets voted as one of the most influential albums ever produced. We know, we all bloody know. But, less discussed, is a sub cultural myth that attaches itself to the album. It sounds, at first, pretty nutty: pause a copy of it at the beginning in a CD player and, playing both at the same time, play Wizard of Oz on mute. Jesus Christ, this is what happens when you leave a group of wired students alone for an evening. Lies and bullshit you might say, but I tried it, and for a good half hour into the film, the syncronisation is astonishingly accurate. If you were ever looking for a modern legend, than this is it. No doubt, wispers floated around by way of the typically convincing see-it-to-believe-ploy and it roped me in. It drew me in as an ice-cream truck draws in sugar-junky children.

Similar is the overzealous interest behind conspiracy theories. I spent an evening watching the JFK assasination over and over on youtube to develop my own opinion (we'll meet Bill Hicks later at the docks). The 9/11 conspiracy documentary Loose Change still sits on my hard drive as well as my mind. The quest for truth can sometimes send you beyond basic logic and reason and the internet is more than happy to oblige, acting like a shitty little sewing circle in its desparate need to tell you what's "really going on".

But back to the case in hand. 2001: A Space Oddessy also presents another significant moment of timing, but of a different nature. Around the time of its release in 1968, reports that at the moment of the famous 'Star Gate' scene, nearing the thought provoking close of the film, an average dose of LSD kicks in at the very same moment when the character Dave begins his enlightening high-speed adventure. The zooming, colourful textures of the ensuing minutes suggests a strong psychadelic influence. It went down pretty well with the counterculture of its time, and I'm guessing it would have sent numurous kids into unavoidable paranoia. But then again, the weird is what you're after when you're tripping.

What both The Dark Side of Oz and The Acid Oddessy share in common is that these syncronisations are accidental, judging at least with what we know of the artists or directors intentions. Both are a part of the same intriguing phenomenon where two seperate artforms, one of sonic and one of film, mysteriosly combine. Is this the only occurance of its kind, or are there other couplings yet to be discovered? Has the Floyd-Wizard effect randomly struck elsewhere? I was itching to know and set out to see what I could find, only to be somewhat disapointed.

This subject initially appeared to me to be virgin material, ripe for the taking and I lept on it with enthusiastic glee. Books were writing themselves in my head, thesis' built on study and experimentation were coagulating together like rain drops on a window pane. But of course, as always, the internet is two steps ahead (there goes my publishing deal, god damn it) and lo' and behold a website called Syncronicity, dedicated to these pockets of discovery, proudly displays them in full geeky glory. Their archive is eccessively focused on the albums of Pink Floyd (they even have 2001: Space Oddessy coupled with Pink Floyd's Echos which someone kindly created on youtube) but there are a few more unique couplings to try out. The joining of Radiohead's Amnesiac with Dark Crystal is tempting. I'll admit, it's a little obessive this fascination with syncronicity and heavily implies the use of narcotics to aid enjoyment. You only have to scroll down to the bottom of the syncronicity webpage to reveal a mini purple mushroom (see picture), what's being hinted at here is evident. It most certainly comes off as an occupation for the dangerously bored or hazily wasted. Perhaps your brain's got to be crawling up the wall and running laps before the music and visuals seem to synchronise, but maybe not. As informative as the website is in its many suggestions, it doesn't beat an accidental discovery, because when you find one for yourself, it becomes your own. I remember watching Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times muted while playing The Flaming Lip's Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots a few years ago. A friend of mine would also mute the train journey scene of Spirited Away and drift off to it while listening to The Velvet Underground's beautifully droning Heroin. The idea is to culminate a mood or meditative experience. Obessive? Maybe, but you won't know until you try it, will you?

About his Shoddy Trampness

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Brendan Morgan writes ocassionally for Bearded Magazine, plays cello and guitar, composes and records his own music and has a Rock band on the go.