That's Right! GritFX have officially moved...

THE GritFX Blog HAD OFFICIALLY MOVED AND IS NOW THE GritFX MAGAZINE!!

On September 6th, GritFX T-Shirts, with the help of GritFX buddy Wayne John from Wayne John - Musings of an over-worked programmer, migrated all our blog posts to our new domain.

For those new to the magazine, you can read music and film reviews and other articles by GritFX writers Decoy Spoon, Wadrick Jones and Max Drake (with additional posts by yours truly).

Drop by the GritFX Magazine today!

Please note: the comments area on this blog have been locked... but every post can be found on the Magazine... where you can comment as much as you desire ;)

Decoy’s Completely Biased Non-Definitive Guide To Music

The Cure - Disintegration (1989)

This is still hands-down my favourite Cure album. I say ‘still’ because back in my high school days, The Cure were a big fave band for me and my mates. We dug their whole catalogue, but it was great timing that we should witness the release of Disintegration, because after their (partial) dissolution in the wake of Pornography (1982), Robert Smith directed the music toward a more pop-orientated sound, with the hit singles “Lets Go to Bed”, “The Walk” and “The Lovecats”. They reunited with the commercially acclaimed albums The Head on the Door (1985) and Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (1987), which saw further success pop-wise, but Disintegration seemed to be the album we were waiting for. From the gentle opening crash of “Plainsong” the blue/green layers float down and blanket you with sonic sedatives. Ahh…s’just like coming home. Robert Smith’s whispered vocals begin their mournful litany: “I think it’s dark and it looks like rain, you said/ And the wind is blowing like it’s the end of the world, you said/ And it’s so cold, like the cold if you were dead/ And then you smiled for a second”…and those words were like poetry for morose (self absorbed) teenagers, like myself. And even though the lyrics are a bit over-marinated in gothic gloom, they fit the melody and the atmosphere like a glove. He couldn’t sing anything else. Plus I actually think Robert Smith has quite a talent for lyrics. There are some great lines on this album. Another example is the title track, with the lines: “Now that I know that I’m breaking to pieces/ I’ll pull out my heart and I’ll feed it to anyone/ Crying for sympathy/ Crocodiles cry for the love of the crowd and three cheers from everyone”. Not too subtle perhaps, but hey, this album is one long sad dirge (it’s The Cure, we know that going in). Even somewhat brighter songs like “Lovesong” or “Pictures of You” can’t fully step from the alienated (Floyd-flavoured) shade cast by the other songs. But it’s just another reason to love this album - it’s such a cohesive work, sonically and thematically. The spacey keyboards, the flanged guitars, Simon Gallup’s bass-line anchors; they all meld into one thick lava-flow of sound. Maybe the members of The Cure were going through some dark times personally, but they managed to conjure the finest gothic-prog concept album of the modern era.

---

Nite Jewel - Good Evening (2009)

Nite Jewel is the alias of L.A.-based multimedia artist Ramona Gonzalez, who has been making music with various indie outfits before going solo. (I say solo, but you’ll note that most photos or footage of Nite Jewel reveal the band to be a two-piece). This album of (I assume) homemade electro-pop is on high-rotation at my house, and every time it finishes I just can’t seem to find anything to follow it. So it’s on repeat. (Be thankful you don’t live with me, I’d drive you nuts). And as I hear the opening track “Bottom Rung” take-off, I know I’ve made the right decision. The vocals are treated as such that I can’t make out a single line on the album, and that’s one of the things I love about it. I love that her voice becomes an instrument, and you just love melodies rather than lines. In turn, you give it any sort of narrative, or context. So the songs mean what you want them to mean. (As is the case with all music, I guess. The response being a subjective thing, in the end. But what I mean to say is: Nite Jewel [like other avant instrumental music] somehow manages to be more intimate as a result of its non-verbal twist). This album is couched in that lo-fi, home-recorded vibe, and the intentional fuzziness lends it a subterranean quality that seems to revel in the atmospheric murk. But it doesn’t push you away, it draws you in. There are great ‘songs’ here, like: “Artificial Intelligence” and “What Did He Say”, but I love it as an album - as a group work. It’s dreamy, it’s sludgy, it’s ambient. It’s warm, it’s playful, it’s inviting. But at the same time it’s kinda dark and gloomy too. (Imagine Pocahaunted if they went pop). Like other current neo-dance bands (particularly those on New York’s Italians Do It Better label) like: Glass Candy, Mirage and Chromatics - the music of Nite Jewel seems cosy and well paced. (It sounds truly retro and modern at the same time). It’s danceable, but you don’t have to go busting any moves. Rather, take your time, there’s no need to feel self-conscious, dance slow, just sway, or spin, dance stupid if you want to, this atmosphere is friendly. Some(most)times you don’t dance at all…just sit, have a drink and a chat.

---

Rodriguez - Cold Fact (1970)

Back in 1995, I ended up at a friend’s house in Sydney, late at night, with a bunch of people sitting around taking turns playing tunes for each other. At one point someone put this on and I was transfixed. ‘Who is this?!’ I asked. I was told his name was Rodriguez and this is his only album, and that he was one of the forgotten troubadours of the late-60s. They said he’d done time in prison, that he’d even written this album while serving time, yada yada yada. He was over-flowing with the romantic myth of a tortured artist. Anyway, I loved the album, and I tracked it down soon after. Most of the stories were wrong as it turns out. Except the part about being one of the forgotten artists of the late-60s. Jesus ‘Sixto’ Rodriguez was born in Detroit, he recorded two albums Cold Fact (1970) and Coming from Reality (1971) and they went largely unnoticed in the U.S. But he gained popularity abroad, namely in South Africa and here in Australia. In those countries he remains an underground legend, still performing shows now and again. (He even toured Australia as the support for Midnight Oil in the early 80s) And it’s something us Aussies should feel kinda proud of. Coz this guy is great. Great songs with great melodies and memorable lyrics delivered by one of the most distinct voices of folk-rock genre. I’ve turned a few people on to him over the years, and invariably they respond to it instantly. It’s full of 60s references, but somehow not really dated. “Sugar Man” opens the album with overt nods to the hippie drug culture, ‘Silver magic ships you carry/ Jumpers, coke, sweet mary jane’. But (like early Dylan) Rodriguez is essentially a moralist. In “Crucify your Mind”, he sings: ‘Was it a huntsman or a player/ That made you pay the cost/ That now assumes relaxed positions/ And prostitutes your loss?/ Were you tortured by your own thirst/ In those pleasures that you seek/ That made you Tom the curious/ That makes you James the weak?’ It’s one of those mythic 60s/70s albums, its amazing (criminal, really) it isn’t more celebrated and renowned. It should be regarded alongside Bringing it All Back Home, and Bridge Over Troubled Water and Tea for the Tillerman and Crosby, Stills & Nash’s first album. That’s a cold fact.


By Decoy Spoon

If you want to hear/see any of the music reviewed by Decoy, visit the GritHouse – the GritFX YouTube Channel – and check out Decoy’s Playlist of music videos.

Decoy’s Completely Biased Non-Definitive Guide To Music

Tortoise - Millions Now Living Will Never Die (1996)

Tortoise deserve a genre named after them. It would at least make things easier for the unimaginative fools (like me) who write about music. Then I could just say: ‘In 1996, Chicago band Tortoise released this landmark album of Tortoise music that took Tortoise in a new direction and changed the way people would think about Tortoise forever. Only Tortoise can play Tortoise the way Tortoise was meant to played.’ It wouldn’t make much sense, but it would be so much easier. Post-rock, Prog-rock, Alternative, Experimental, Electronica, Jazz, Krautrock…none of these terms really seemed to sum them up, even though there were undeniable elements of all those things in their music. The opening song “Djed” was an epic 20-minute long soundscape that evolved - much like humankind - out of the static slime, and grumbled along the ground on bass fins until it merged with the drums and took its first steps on Neu! legs. Then things were happening. By five minutes in, you were compelled to see where this new species of music was going. And it certainly is a journey of an album. A free-flowing wordless trek through the primordial ooze of avant-garde music, from John Cage and Karlheinz Stockhausen, to Can and Faust, to Fripp & Eno, to Neil Young and the future Wilco, to Radiohead and Godspeed You Black Emperor! This sounded like something that was there in the background of all that music. Rubbing stones and sticks together, searching for that fresh spark. “Glass Museum” is a journeying raft on rough waves of slow-motion ocean, sailing off to find new land, and document the various species of life found there. “A Survey” makes camp in the darkness of unmapped forests and braves the night, while “Along the Banks of Rivers” finally heads for home with renewed perspectives, somewhat philosophical now of the fates (and double-edged prizes) that await those who venture into the unknown.

---

Martina Topley-Bird - The Blue God (2008)

After hearing about 45 seconds of the opening track “Phoenix”, I was sold. If this song had Thom Yorke vocals you could tell people it was a song Radiohead forgot to put on the In Rainbows bonus disc. Or if Portishead hadn’t finally brought out their long awaited Third album, this would still have quenched our trip-hop/downtempo thirst. Although, The Blue God reminds me more of Dummy-era Portishead. So maybe if you spliced 2007 Radiohead DNA with 1994 Portishead DNA, you might end up with an album sounding a little bit like The Blue God. Who knows? I get carried away with nonsense. In 1996 Martina Topley-Bird guested vocals on Tricky’s acclaimed albums Nearly God and Pre-Millennium Tension, and released her debut solo album Quixotic in 2003. Her voice would suit many genres; she could be a pop singer, a jazz singer, a lounge singer, a blues singer, because all these styles somehow leak out in her tones. This is a great album to slap on if you’ve got friends coming around for drinks. This is a great album to slap on late at night and play poker to. This is a great album to slap on while you chop the veggies for dinner. This is a great album to slap on if you like Massive Attack or Air or Fat Freddy’s Drop or Thievery Corporation. This is great if you like a cocktail mix of sweet lullabies and smooth melodious lines with a twist of dark moodiness for atmosphere. I’m amazed this hasn’t become a far bigger album, because I think she has mass appeal, and is instantly likeable for the right kind of fans. But I also like the fact this album is sneaky, and working its mojo slowly. It’s not a ham-fisted album that is leaping down ears trying to impress anyone. It’s an album that is quietly sophisticated, and patient, and waiting to be heard some night when the proper forces align. Perhaps when the moon is full, illuminating the right moment like a blue god.

---

Kate Bush - Hounds of Love (1985)

For me, and many a prog-rock aficionado the world over, Kate Bush was/is the ‘Cult Queen of Cool’ who became the unofficial premiere female artist in a very male-dominated genre. I know she was having success in the Pop sphere. From her first acclaimed album The Kick Inside (1978) with the single “Wuthering Heights” she was the crazy-dancing doyen of baroque-pop. But she was always an acquired taste. Some people couldn’t stand her. And this designation made us Prog-fans claim her even more. She seemed like one of us. Nerdy, literate, obsessive, out-of-step. And Kate seemed to celebrate her ‘otherness’. She went about making her own unique music, album after album. With Hounds of Love she brought her signature theatricality into a more modern context, utilising the technology of the time to help animate her vision in a broader setting. And it’s a (another) masterpiece. From the opening hit, “Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)”, we’re reminded this is a fearless artist who combines melody, rhythm and structure masterfully, and then matches it with ambitious concepts to achieve maximum results. Her vocal performances are brilliant, and the lyrics thoughtful & crafted, as usual. Only Kate Bush could/would write a song like “Cloudbusting” - sung from the perspective of (radical psychologist/inventor) Wilhelm Reich’s son, who watches his father in awe, and mourns his father’s imprisonment (never to see him again), inspiring him to tell his father’s story. And the second half of the album is a suite of songs that comprise a mini concept album about a woman lost and drowning in freezing waters. The song “And Dream of Sheep” is worth particular mention, coz it’s one of Kate’s most beautiful compositions. The sadness in the melody is heartbreaking, and the lyrics paint an image of calm release and dignified escape from suffering: “If they find me racing white horses/ They'll not take me for a buoy/ Let me be weak/ Let me sleep/ And dream of sheep”. The fear of dying is sublimated into a simple wish: “I can’t keep my eyes open/ Wish I had my radio/ I’d tune into some friendly voices/ Talking about stupid things/ I can’t be left to my imagination”. The remainder of the album is a swirling watery diorama filled with cut-up sounds, choppy rhythms and ambient chimes that play out like someone’s life flashing before their crying eyes. A great uncompromising album from a great unconventional artist.


By Decoy Spoon

If you want to hear/see any of the music reviewed by Decoy, visit the GritHouse – the GritFX YouTube Channel – and check out Decoy’s Playlist of music videos.

Decoy’s Completely Biased Non-Definitive Guide To Music

Lush - Spooky (1992)

Remember Lush? Like many bands of the early 90s, Lush became kind of big and also a bit dwarfed by the explosion of the alternate music scene, which gave rise to countless new bands vying for a piece of the booming major-label pre-internet spotlight. Some bands got a bit overlooked in the process. Anyway. Lush produced some damn good music and a couple of really cool albums. This was their first (studio album). And throughout ’92 and ’93, my good friend and I ate it up in heaped spoonfuls right along with our daily dose of Nirvana and Sonic Youth and Mudhoney etc. Spooky somehow fit right in with our existing tastes, and it didn’t hurt that it sported two enigmatic front-women: Miki Berenyi and Emma Anderson. Along with The Jesus and Mary Chain, Cocteau Twins, My Bloody Valentine, the ‘shoegaze’ scene had a messy, sullied sound that was somehow more feminine than the muscular distorted guitars of America. It was the UK yin, to the US yang. It was smooth distortion, but not in the reductive clinical sense of the later pop-punk (Blink 182) sound, which was a tone I found one-dimensional. The shoegaze scene was still a nice wild sound that meshed with the vocals producing hypnotic hybrids that were dense and layered and roomy. Lush’s songs were large, solid blocks of travelling harmony. At faster tempos, their sound had an effect of propulsion. Slower tempos were a swirling ebb that could take you far away from shore like an unseen tidal rip. It was produced by Robin Guthrie (of Cocteau Twins) and he presented their sound well. It may sound a tad dated in stylistic terms, but it still manages to rise above a lot of the other bands that were making music at that time (surprisingly, I find grunge to be a genre that hasn’t aged as well as I would’ve thought - but give it time I guess, it’ll come around again). Lush released two more albums, Split (1994) and Lovelife (1996) and then disbanded after the tragic suicide of their drummer Chris Acland in 1996. So when I need my fix of melodic-pop wrapped in flowering flanger-pedals, I can always rely on the metallic buzz of Spooky. It’s lush.

---

Scarlett Johansson - Anywhere I Lay My Head (2008)

Whatever Scarlett did was gonna polarise people. Before anyone heard a note, some were gonna love it and others were gonna hate it. If she went the obvious pop route she would have been ridiculed as just another ambitious celebrity cashing in on herself. ‘What’s next, a perfume or a lingerie line?’ But no one expected this - a covers album. And of all the artists to cover…Tom Waits (?!) That’s pretty ballsy. How does one improve on, or take his songs in new directions? Can it even be done? The answer is yes (kind of). This album endeavours to render his songs in an expansive (Daniel Lanois-like) soundscape. Plus she’s got some cool guests - namely Nick Zinner (Yeah Yeah Yeahs) and David Andrew Sitek (TV on the Radio) handling guitar and production duties, and David Bowie adding vocals on two tracks. Pretty cool. Now, Scarlett’s not the greatest singer in the world. But it plays to her brusque strengths, and somehow works to create a damn good album. I like that she’s not afraid to have her voice lost in the atmospheric mix - and everything is serving the whole. When I first heard Scarlett was coming out with an album, I (unfairly but justifiably) thought: ‘How boring’. But I like that it confounds expectation - from the outset. The first song, “Fawn”, is an instrumental, and it serves to acclimatise you to the world you’re about to enter into. One could even expect Nick Cave or Cat Power to start singing. The sound is ragged and textured, yet delicate at the same time. We hear Scarlett for the first time on “Town with No Cheer” and she laments the song through a lovely crash of fatalistic sounds. And it just continues to surprise you with “Falling Down”, “Fannin’ Street”, “Song for Jo” and by the time you get to the music-box lullaby of “I Wish I Was in New Orleans” you’re thinking: This is pretty f&#king cool. As it starts, “No One Knows I’m Gone” sounds like (The Velvet Underground’s) “Venus in Furs” - and that’s never a bad direction to take things. The album is an acquired taste perhaps, but that’s only because they’re trying to do something different. (It’s certainly ambitious, but I wouldn’t say pretentious.) And the album deserved more attention and praise for that alone.

---

Sigue Sigue Sputnik - Flaunt It (1986)

Science-Fiction, Blade Runner, A Clockwork Orange, Star Wars, Red Dawn, Nuclear War, guns, rockets, bombs, Robots, Toys, Sex, fake ads between songs, crazy wild-haired cyber-punk dudes - this had everything a thirteen year old boy could want in 1987. I remember getting it on vinyl, and feeling like I was somehow cooler for having it. (I still have it.) The large-size art work and inner sleeve were amazing. There were photos of strange exotic people who looked like they’d walked right out of Mos Eisley spaceport. There were lyrics and symbols and assorted English and Kanji text. There were faint diagrams of assembly instructions for what looked like transformer robots printed beneath the words. And their words actually made sense to a thirteen year old. The first thing you hear is: ‘I wanna be a star!’ - which speaks to a teenager, instantly. And I made mad little mind-movie narratives for all their songs with lyrics like: ‘The US bombs cruising overhead/ There goes my love rocket red’, and ‘I'm a Custom Kar Kommando/ And she she she can she can’, and ‘Star Wars Western USA…Ultra Venus USA…Rockit Miss USA’, and ‘I’m a space cowboy/ I’m a 21st century whoopee boy!’. I totally understood that. I related to those guys as only a thirteen year old can - the magical age when the irrational becomes rational, when dreams and reality are inseparable. When truth and lies are both necessary. And so these guys became my band. It was like my own secret sci-fi world, where I knew all the characters, all the plots, all the tricks and all the action. And you don’t deconstruct anything at that age. You have no sense of history. You have no cultural reference points. You don’t really think about the fact their songs “Love Missile F1-11” and “Atari Baby” sound like Chuck Berry riffs and Doo-Wop played on keyboards. Like rockabilly techno. Like space-age Elvis. As a kid, you just dig it. In 1987, I had never heard Kraftwerk, or Suicide, or Tangerine Dream, or Eno. Looking back now, this album was incredibly important for me, I think it subconsciously primed me for the discovery of all that music later on in life. It prepared me for life as a 21st Century Boy.

By Decoy Spoon

If you want to hear/see any of the music reviewed by Decoy, visit the GritHouse – the GritFX YouTube Channel – and check out Decoy’s Playlist of music videos.

The GritHouse Presents…

GritFX filmmaker and resident movie nut Will Thame (aka Wadrick Jones) has uploaded a new short film to The GritHouse – The GritFX YouTube Channel. Will’s new short animation, entitled “The Rookie – Part One” (Part Two will be complete in a week or two, according to Will), is basically an ode to (or a plagiarism of) every cop film ever made - only this time animated in Lego!

Watch it now at The GritHouse. For all of you lazy bastards who can’t be bothered visiting The GritHouse, here’s an embedded file.



Will has also updated The GritHouse to include playlists associated with Decoy Spoon’s music reviews and Wadrick’s film reviews. If you wish to check out any music videos of the artists Decoy reviews, or watch any trailers/scenes from films reviewed by Wadrick, The GritHouse is your baby.

Decoy’s Completely Biased Non-Definitive Guide To Music

Mazzy Star - So Tonight That I Might See (1993)

Mazzy Star are one of those bands that have a shadowy little corner of music history all to themselves. I imagine they’re still recruiting fans with their slow, sexy, scuzzed-up sound. They were never a popular band as such, but they were a serious cult band. And those bands just keep growing in status long after their official life is over. They were a little bit Velvet Underground, a little bit country, a little bit bluesy, a little bit folkie, a little bit gothic, a little bit psychedelic. But they blurred it all in to their own mix with songs of defeat and regret. They sounded loose and sad and listless and scarred. They sounded dreamily distant yet nakedly intimate. Out on the horizon, and under the bed-sheets. They sounded depressed but full of love. And it seemed perfectly fitting the singers name should be Hope. Because Hope Sandoval was the perfect siren for these songs—all she needed was a tambourine and a whisper, and you were hypnotised. And David Roback had the perfect plaintive guitar style. It was a seamless blend that chased away the light and revelled in the darkness that housed songs like: “Mary of Silence”, “Five String Serenade” and “Blue Light”. They enjoyed some success with the single “Fade Into You”, and it’s a great opener and sets the tone for the rest of the album—sleepy and stark and dusty and droney. And their shy influence is still recognisable in the music of Cat Power, Smog, Feist, Sparklehorse, and many other contemporary folkies, downtempo electronica and lo-fi indie rockers. Their albums are still great to listen to because their playing was timeless and seemed to exist outside the grunge parameters of the early 90s. They may have used feedback and distorted guitars, but in a totally different way to, say, Sonic Youth or Pearl Jam. And yet it was an album you frequently spotted in the collections of many grunge fans. Who would’ve thought that sunny California could produce a band that solemnly serenaded late night excursions into the jet-black void?

---

William Orbit - Hello Waveforms (2006)

I’m not a real big Madonna fan, and one of William Orbit’s big claims to fame is his involvement with her acclaimed 1998 album Ray of Light. And long before that, he was quietly producing a series of albums that were plotting icy courses through the techno-whiteout of minimal 80s ambient electronica. I’d never heard of him when I came across this album, but I liked the cover, so I gave it a listen. And I’m glad I did, because this album has become one of my favourites when I’m in the mood for some mood music. It reminded me of Air, in their Moon Safari era. From the first song, “Sea Green”, this album sets a tone of synthetic tranquillity and spacey ambience, which I’m a sucker for. And things just kept getting better with the delicate twinkling of “Humming Chorus” and the faux-theremin weave of “Surfin’”. By the time it got to “You Know Too Much About Flying Saucers” with its ticking starbursts of guitar and vibes trailing through a cosy cosmos, I was proclaiming this one of the best albums I’d heard in years (NB: I’m always doing that though). Then came “Spiral” with the first (and pretty much last) taste of vocals on the album. The vocals are supplied by Kenna and the Sugababes and they marry beautifully—never breaking the stride of the album. The lyrics are nothing special, but you don’t really listen to the words. When the chorus comes: ‘Nothing’s really sane but everything’s amazing’, things could be getting a bit new-agey, but when Kenna sings: ‘Oh, the ground beneath us trembles and we fall’, the melody is enough to lift you away from any silly notions like definitive meaning - who cares what they’re going on about, lets go visit Jupiter! The earthiness of hearing voices actually punctuates the album nicely in the middle, and you soon go back into orbit (I guess, literally) to enjoy the rest of the ride with the primarily instrumental “Who Owns the Octopus?”. And it’s nice to hear the odd voice (whether real or vocoder) throughout the remaining songs with “Oooh’s” and “Aaah’s” reminding you this is, and you are, still human after all.

---

Grace Jones - Nightclubbing (1981)

As a typical 80s kid, when I think of Grace Jones I think of the films A View to a Kill and Conan the Destroyer, and I remember thinking she was somewhere between sexy and scary. (Some 80s kids may even remember Vamp, but maybe not as many.) She was a striking presence on the screen, and she made a cool Bond villain and a cool sidekick to Arnie. But before her venture into film, she was making strides into the burgeoning disco scene in New York with albums like Portfolio (1977), Fame (1978) and Muse (1979). Despite a cult following among the gay community and the discophiles, the Jamaican model turned singer couldn’t really find a wider market for her brand of dance music. Her voice didn’t really suit straight disco. Then in 1980 she teamed up with (Island Records founder) Chris Blackwell and produced Warm Leatherette, which was a step in a new direction. Taking inspiration from New York’s new wave scene, and the flexibility of reggae, she channelled covers of songs by Roxy Music, Smokey Robinson, The Pretenders and Tom Petty with a sharp androgynous clamour that made people stop and take notice. This was weird, but kinda cool. And when she followed up with Nightclubbing, it finally showcased her strengths and skills as a vocalist and performer. This is a great record. “Walking in the Rain” comes creeping out of the silence, walking you down the dark wet streets of some desolate sci-fi burg, where people who look like Grace populate the local haunts and sell mysteries by the pound. I saw the clip of this song on Rage in the wee-hours one night, and I’ve been hooked on her music ever since. I couldn’t take my eyes or ears off her. The album is full of 80s synthesisers and robotic neo-disco beats, and its amazing how the phrasing of her deep voice sits on top and makes it all sound fresh and contemporary. The moment she sings a note - there is instant atmosphere. She leads you through these strange cyber-noir narratives like a private-dick reporting on her cases. It’s no wonder Roman Polanski used - her moody re-imagining of Ástor Piazzolla’s Argetinian classic - “I've Seen That Face Before (Libertango)” in the film Frantic, because it sounds like a cinematic thriller in itself. With the brave invention and impressive performances Grace Jones found a musical identity that was, and remains, completely original.

By Decoy Spoon

If you want to hear/see any of the music reviewed by Decoy, visit the GritHouse – the GritFX YouTube Channel – and check out Decoy’s Playlist of music videos.

Decoy’s Completely Biased Non-Definitive Guide To Music

Sade - The Best of Sade (1994)

Best Ofs can be strange things. Sometimes they’re a great way of road-testing an artist/band. Sometimes the hits are all you want. Other times you’d be better served avoiding them altogether, and seeking out a particular album. Some bands are defined by their hits (eg: Abba), while others are completely misrepresented by them (eg: Genesis). Whatever the case, this was the first thing I ever got of hers/theirs (Sade is the band, Sade Adu is the singer), so I’m recommending it, because it made me eventually seek out their studio albums. And you know what? They’re all great. But really, all you need is the Best Of. Sade’s greatest quality is their consistency. Their stuff all sounds the same. And that’s a good thing. It sounds like one big fluid song. Don’t get me wrong, there is variety in their music. I mean, what do you call their music? Soul, R&B, Latin, Funk, Soft Rock? Easy Listening? Quiet Storm? (Is that really a genre?) I don’t know, but they manage to take a formula that you’d think could be a bit generic and make it sound interesting, and uniquely their own. So I’m fine with calling it Jazz. Because Sade Adu sings the way Miles Davis played his horn. Believe it. Pure, direct, soulful, unadorned, exacting, heart wrenching. She avoids the overdone vocal gymnastics that is industry standard these days and keeps things lean and understated. And the band skillfully create ‘moods’ more than ‘songs’ for her to float through. “Pearls” is a good example of this. The strings and (Angelo Badalamenti-esque) keyboards dawn over silence, and her vocal is so measured, simply serving the melody and the narrative, that when she hits the lyric ‘She lives in a world she didn’t choose/And it hurts like brand new shoes’, it’s a truly moving moment. And their music is full of these letter-perfect moments. Songs like: “Jezebel”, “Like a Tattoo”, “Cherish the Day”, “Paradise” and “Love is Stronger than Pride” are truly captivating. Great late night music. (Great day time music too.)

---

Boards of Canada - The Campfire Headphase (2005)

Scottish brothers Michael Sandison and Marcus Eoin had been producing electronic music together since the late 80s before signing to the Warp label and releasing their (un)official debut Music Has The Right To Children in 1998. And they took the electronic music world by storm. Part electronica, part ambient, part post-rock; they appealed to many pockets of music fans with their signature retro-contemporary sound. The eagerly awaited follow-up Geogaddi (2002) - an epic album of 23 shrouded songs - darkened up the proceedings and stretched the electronic boundaries even further. People were on the net publishing their detailed analyses of this loaded work. Backmasking; the Occult; Branch Davidians; numerology; humans Vs God Vs nature - it certainly stirred up the fanbase. Three years later they gave us this, their 3rd album, The Campfire Headphase. The album was another underground event in the electronica sphere. The mysterious brothers - who rarely perform shows or give interviews - produced another aural feast that is simply stunning to listen to. Their electronic brew of styles induces a sort of synesthesia that slows time as the music pours over you, and by the time you’re 3 or 4 songs into it, you’re happily immersed. It has that power. Best to just sit back and enjoy the ride. All their albums get better with every listen. They’re like sonic adventures. You find new details in the far reaches of their songs. As if they’re somehow recording the internal soundtrack to their childhood memories, half of it seems real, and the other half is imagined. Also, the song “Dayvan Cowboy” became the first BoC song to spawn a film-clip. And it’s great - merging footage of Joseph Kittinger’s incredible plummet through the atmosphere, and then morphing out of the ocean as a big wave surfer. This perfectly suited the spacey yet earthly nature of this majestic music.

Check it out in Decoy’s Playlist at The GritHouse.

---

The Modern Lovers - The Modern Lovers (1976)

‘One, two, three, four, five, six…’ This is one of my favourite albums. Jonathan Richman is - I think, still - supremely underrated as a precursor to punk and the post-punk/indie scene that emerged throughout the 80s. He was writing and recording these songs as far back as 1971 before they saw the light of day in 1976 when the band was already dissolving (keyboardist Jerry Harrison would go on to ply his skills on guitar in Talking Heads; other band members went on to form/play with Real Kids and The Cars). Jonathan Richman’s ability to knock out these songs with a loose lazy humour made it seem kinda rudimentary and throw-away, (which it kinda is), but there is much passion to be found here. The classic opener “Roadrunner”, bursts out of the starting blocks, displaying his love of The Velvet Underground, and his attempt at writing a “Sister Ray” dirge. And “Pablo Picasso” is another great example of Richman’s droll sense of humour and singular lyricism ‘He could walk down the street and girls could not resist to stare and so, Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole’. “Old World” is one of my big faves, with lyrics like: ‘I wanna keep my place in the old world/And keep my place in the arcane/Coz I, still have parents/And I still love the old world’. There was nothing pretentious. This was just a kid from Boston who wanted to rock-out like his heroes The Velvet Underground and make some noise and have some fun. So he wrote songs about what he knew - and his lyrics just shine in songs like: “I’m Straight”, “Government Center”, “Dignified and Old”. Another fave is “Girlfriend” which begins with: ‘If I were to walk through the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston/Well first I’d go to the room where they keep the Cezanne/But if I had by my side a girlfriend/Well then I could look through the paintings/I could look right through them/Because I’d have found something that I understand/I understand a girlfriend’, and the innocence that pours out may be ironic but its a heartfelt irony, and typified with the chorus of ‘That’s a girlfriend/That’s a G-i-r-l-f-r-e-n/That’s a girlfriend/That’s something I understand’. I find it hard to talk about this album without gushing superlatives, but if you haven’t heard this album, all I can say is: Go get it. This is a life-changer. You’ll wanna start your own band - all it takes is a couple of chords and a Jonathan Richman. The chords are the easy part - finding another Jonathan Richman is the hard part. He’s a one off.

By Decoy Spoon

Decoy’s Completely Biased Non-Definitive Guide To Music

Spice Girls - Spice (1996)

Though I’d say my favourite Spice Girls songs are “Spice Up Your Life” and “Too Much”, which are both on their second album Spiceworld (1997), you can’t go past their first album Spice for a non-stop pop-fest. (NB: By the time I’ve finished writing this - having listened to both again - I think I like Spiceworld more). In July 1996, with the single “Wannabe”, the girls hit the scene like Godzilla (if Godzilla was a massively marketed corporate girl-group in platform boots and Union Jack miniskirt). They were like Beatlemania & the Sex Pistols & the Village People all rolled into one, transcending the mere music to become pop icons. They were easy to hate, but hard not to like - they were designed to be loveable. You had five characters to choose a fave from (Scary). And the music was fun. R&B grooves (“Last Time Lover” and “Something Kinda Funny”); revamped disco (“Who Do You Think You Are?”); and the gals even sang a ballad for Mum (“Mama”). So I can admit it now: ‘Hi, my name is Decoy, and I’m a Spice Girls fan’. They were a hipflask in the pocket of many reformed pop-oholics, and I now stand by it as a perfect example of 90s pop; catchy upbeat melodies with clean breezy harmonies. I dig the trading-off of lines between the girls - (in descending order of vocal ability) Sporty’s signature soar; Baby’s icing-sugar lilt, Scary’s punchy faux-reggae-rap, Ginger’s cheeky Monroe thing, and Posh couldn’t really sing, but was still an important part of the group strut. Who cares if the Spice Girls were a transparent construct of the corporate music industry and the tabloid media? Girl Power was quite endearing and sweet looking back now. And I already feel nostalgic for that time, the late 90s, pre-Paris Hilton, when a 56k modem was still faster than a 28k modem, when things seemed somehow more innocent. Which is revisionist thinking, I know. But this is one of my favourite soundtracks for those happily self-delusional occasions. On those nights, I crave simplicity, I just really really really wanna zig-a-zig ahh…

---

Bat For Lashes - Fur and Gold (2006)

I guess if you get invited to open for Radiohead on part of their Rainbows tour, you must be doing something right. Natasha Khan aka Bat For Lashes received this honour. And you can kinda see why, because one thing that struck me when I first heard this album, was upon hearing the 2nd track “Trophy” (an hypnotic raga that works its magic with a pagan paced chant: ‘Heaven is a feeling I get in your arms…’), I thought: ‘Hmm, sounds like In Rainbows.’ Now don’t get me wrong. It doesn’t. I mean, if Radiohead were a one woman band called Bat For Lashes and had been listening to a lot of Kate Bush and Bjork and Cat Power, and released their debut in 2006 titled Fur and Gold, then it may’ve sounded something like this. With me? Both have employed those little egg-shaker maracas to cool effect. Both try to do inventive stripped back things in regards to instrumentation (especially percussion). Both use lyrics to paint suggestive images that are as meaningful or as meaningless as you wanna make them. Both use atmospheric silence to dim the moody spaces between the core instruments. Both seem old school and contemporary at the same time. And both are beautifully understated. The vocal melodies in “Trophy” when she hits the line: ‘Creatures of love feed…’, or the ‘When you love someone but the thrill is gone’ chorus in “What’s a Girl to Do?” are like torches in a dark forest - you feel safer with them around. And don’t be surprised if you find yourself walking around your home humming strange mantras like: ‘Tahiti we don’t got no name…’ and ‘There is no turning back…’ and ‘She really loves him, Prescilla’. Whatever the case, like In Rainbows, as soon as this album finished - as if trying to isolate the allusive addictive ingredient - I was compelled to play it again. And again. And again. And again.

(Plus the video for “What’s a Girl to Do?” was one of the coolest/spookiest post-Donnie Darko videos I’ve seen in years…dig it.)

Watch the video here at the GritHouse.

---

Kiss - Music from 'The Elder' (1981)

Even amongst hardcore Kiss fans, this is an oddball. It’s considered a strange sidestep on their Hard-Glam-Rock/Heavy-Metal timeline. Having previously worked with producer Bob Ezrin on their Destroyer album (1976), and perhaps after seeing the success he’d had with Pink Floyd’s The Wall (1979), Kiss enlisted his services again for a full-blown concept alb, with the whole swords and castles and fantasy bit. It bombed. But me and my D&D role-playing buddies loved it. Along with Pink Floyd, Queen, Yes, Jethro Tull, and King Crimson, it became part of the soundtrack stable for game nights. The title and cover were all we needed to see, really. Coz it was an album that sounded like its cover: A mock gateway into in the cavernous imagination of four NYC cock-rockers (in capes and make-up) trying to go Tolkien. Which - God bless’em - didn’t really work. And this was the reason most Kiss fans wrote it off. It tried to be a prog-rock concept album, but also wanted to be a rockin’ Kiss album. It was Kiss out of their depth, trying to work within a genre they weren’t really familiar with. But that was one of the album’s charms. There is an un-ironic innocence to it (kind of). You can tell they’re trying (kind of). Some of the lyrics are embarrassingly corny, like a teenager’s first attempt at fantasy storytelling, covering all the clichés of the genre. (That’s why it suited D&D so well.) The opening line of the album is: Like a blade of a sword I am forged in flame, fiery hot, which is actually one of the better ones. There’s “Odyssey” with: From a far off galaxy/ I hear you calling me/ We are on an odyssey/ Through the realms of time and space/ In that enchanted place/ You and I come face to face. (Sung like they’re spotlighted on a dry-iced stage with a skull in their hand.) And it just gets better with the chorus: Once upon not yet/ Long ago someday (See what they did there? - Clever wordplay). But like I said, I love it. “The Oath”, “Just A Boy”, “Odyssey”, “Dark Light”, “Under The Rose”, “A World Without Heroes”, they’re actually cool songs, and Bob Ezrin knew how to make things sound epic. So if you wanna rock out in your lounge room Tenacious D style, it doesn’t get much better than this.

By Decoy Spoon

Decoy’s Completely Biased Non-Definitive Guide To Music

Marcy Playground - Marcy Playground (1997)

One band that got lost in the shifting sands of the post-grunge years was New York’s Marcy Playground. They were never gonna be a revolutionary band, but I think they were certainly victims of bad timing, and changing trends within the industry. This, their debut, produced the single “Sex and Candy” which became quite a big hit and propelled them into the spotlight for a while. But it soon faded. And they seemed to disappear from the radar. The thing is, this band wrote some really good songs. Their sound was undeniably Nirvana-influenced, especially songs like: “Poppies” and “Saint Joe on the School Bus”. But it was their other tracks where I feel they came into their own. Songs like: “Ancient Walls of Flowers”, “A Cloak of Elvenkind”, “One More Suicide” and “The Vampires of New York” that came to symbolise what I dug about Marcy Playground. Catchy laconic tunes with a weird obscure semi-acoustic bent. The lyrics have an ironic detachment that makes them kinda boring on paper, and you’d think kinda (not very funny) jokey to be sung, but what made it all work was the melody being sung, that carried these words was usually so instantly friendly - like old songs you knew at school or nursery rhymes - that the irony became (at its best moments) a kind of sweet and tender poignancy that came across sadly defeated and nostalgic rather than maudlin or navel-gazing or whatever. Really an underappreciated band and album…

---

Girl Talk - Feed the Animals (2008)

Gregg Gillis…a mild-mannered Pennsylvanian biomedical engineer by day…and by night, as the moon rises and the lunatics come out to play, he tears the lab-coat off (quite literally, sometimes) as he morphs into his dance-crazed mash-up DJ alter-ego: Girl Talk. A 21st century superhero, armed with his trusty laptop and FM radio, mashing together all manner of songs and samples and beats into a juicy form of dance pop. The songs he uses as source material for his digital alchemy are so disparate (eg: Jay-Z, Toni Basil, Rod Stewart and Aphex Twin – within one song) that it’s a true feat of sonic collage to combine such wildcard elements into a highly listenable context. And it’s these skills as an arranger that stands out after repeated listens. Even though upon a first taste one is seemingly bombarded with countless pop references, the restraint exercised allows the listener to identify the samples and enjoy the fresh juxtapositions (or if you’re slow, like me, at least get a sense of them - and it’ll come to you later, probably while you’re brushing your teeth, getting ready for bed). The tendency for some would be to push it to further extremes into Breakcore territory. Which is still interesting, but stops being as much fun for me. (Plus, who can dance to breakcore?) And that’s what this music is, above all else - Fun. With each release, he has always pushed more samples into each song, clocking up something on the order of thousands of pieces of song. He has continually tested the limits of the form without losing the playfulness. Perhaps one day we’ll see the logical extension of his ideas, and he’ll release a one song album that contains a snippet of every song ever recorded! His Mash’em Opus. Now there’s a challenge…do it, Mr. Talk…I’m there dude.

(I should probably point out that despite my love of music, I can’t dance to save my life. My free & easy use of words concerning dancing are simply meant for you…if you are so inclined to shake it. And I hear you saying: ‘Hey, Decoy, that’s classic, me too, I can’t dance either -’…well, let me just stop you right there - nah, friend, you can dance…okay?...compared to me, you can dance…trust me…)

---

Jaco Pastorius - Jaco Pastorius (1976)

One of the saddest stories in 70s/80s Jazz, is the untimely death of Jaco Pastorius at the age of 35. The man could play electric bass like no other. And he made some great recordings with other 70s jazz hounds like Pat Metheny and Paul Bley. I first heard him on Joni Mitchell’s jazz-laced Hejira (1976), where he played on four tracks. But that same year saw the release of this, his first official solo effort. Here, with songs like, “Come On, Come Over”, “Continuum” and “Okonkole Y Trompa” he finally got to show the world he could back up his lofty claim: “I am the greatest bass player in the world.” Upon meeting this cocky cat, Joe Zawinul (the acclaimed jazz keyboardist who played with Miles Davis during Miles’ groundbreaking electric period, and who went on to form Weather Report) thought he was full of shit, and himself. But Joe went home and listened to Jaco’s demo tapes and subsequently recruited him for Weather Report’s next album, Black Market (1976). Jaco would stay with them for five more albums as a full-fledged member of the band, before releasing his second solo album Word of Mouth (1981). His playing was very influential not only in the world of Jazz, but you can trace his sound and style through funk’s evolution and even the alternate-grooves of Primus and Red Hot Chili Peppers. He had an effortlessly smooth style, and his dexterity is really something to behold. Shifting from rhythm-section to lead and back again, he could be at once a blur of notes and then a big bulbous drone throbbing behind the scenes. Even if you’re not a fan of jazz or funk or whatever else you’d call his music, he probably remains an influence on something you’d like, such was the impact of this outrageously talented (and unfortunately tragic) musician/composer.

By Decoy Spoon

Decoy’s Completely Biased Non-Definitive Guide To Music

dEUS - Worse Case Scenario (1994)

Deus should have been HUGE. Three or four years before Radiohead achieved legendary status with OK Computer and came to define the (somewhat clunky) term Meta-Rock, Deus produced this, their debut album, which was already pointing the way forward. Post-punk, post-rock, post-grunge, art-rock, no one really knew what to call it, but it sure was good. The Belgian band had obviously absorbed the soft/loud Pixies thing; the viola drone of The Velvet Underground; the greasy gravelly personas of Tom Waits; the dark dramatics of Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds; the subverted grooves of Faith No More; the orchestrated chaos of Sonic Youth; the atmospherics of prog; the literate leanings of REM; and the stadium-size anthems of U2. Some of these trace elements could be found, but this was all done without being derivative at all. Their sound was completely original. Deus sounded like no one except Deus. Lead singer/songwriter Tom Barman wrote some evocative surrealist lyrics about death, drugs, life and loss that were well suited to the albums varied textures. And the other members displayed a restraint and maturity (especially for a debut) that still sounds fresh - never over-doing anything - guitarist Rudy Trouvé and bassist Stef Kamil Carlens always adding the perfect touches to the proceedings. The songs were so well crafted, seeming like a band that had been around for a long time and had developed into this inventive style after years of experimentation. Through songs like “Suds & Soda”, “Worse Case Scenario”, “Let’s Get Lost”, “Hotellounge” and “Great American Nude” we get to witness the sheer diversity of this band. It’s no wonder these songs are still fan favourites; it’s a testament to this masterful (yet sadly underrated) album…and band, of course.

---

Pocahaunted - Island Diamonds (2008)

Set your delays and reverb dials to eleven folks, and get ready for this implosion of sound that’ll have you falling into yourself, blurring the boundaries of inner and outer as your descent takes the scenic route to the cosmos within. These two Californian girls have been hard at work producing music and releasing it via various indie/DIY labels and gigs, and they’re deservedly starting to gain more recognition for their output. The music is kinda hard to neatly categorise, and I guess a few knee-jerk references would/could be Down-Tempo meets Trance meets Ambient meets Dub meets Noise meets the rhythms of Tribal Ethnic World Music. The music slowly swirls and ebbs and seeps, while the vocals are filtered and fucked-with in a lovely messy manner that renders them just long strange chants that continue to echo throughout the distant saga of each song. They’re reinventing the Wall-of-Sound with a beautifully balanced mix of crowded sound and stark silence. Kinda like the yin-yang effect of slowly pouring milk into unstirred coffee, the ingredients of guitar and percussion become unidentifiable in the whole, and it’s a tasty checkered blend. The first song “Ashes Is White” perfectly illustrates this thing I’m (failing at) describing; sounding like the memory of a backyard Corroboree, where this strange sound is the only souvenir of your mystic experience. And it just rolls on with “Ghetto Ballet” and the rest of the album. Simultaneously, the music makes me think of ‘being outside’, yet it makes me feel like I’m ‘travelling inside my own body’. The kinda thing I imagine would go down a treat at Burning Man, with the right kind of cocktail in your blood-stream inducing some serious religious experiences. Godahaunted.

---

Jean Michel Jarre - Oxygène (1976)

Setting up his analog synthesisers and various effects generators throughout his kitchen, French electronic composer Jean Michel Jarre home-recorded this landmark album when—besides the slow growing popularity of German bands Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream—there really wasn’t much of a commercial market for electronic music. Little did he know it would go on to sell millions. It would go on to become a classic, and help define and influence the future genres of Electronica, Ambient, Techno, New Age, Trance, Drone etc. Way ahead of it’s time, yet also completely bound by the nascent technology, it remains a very cool listen today. It’s instantly recognisable to most Australians due to its use in Peter Weir’s memorable 1981 film Gallipoli. And even though the film is set in 1915 and follows the fate of two young friends amid the bloodshed of WWI, the thoroughly modern music (of the time) somehow suited the film perfectly, and became as recognisable as any image from the film. The film made great use of the pings! and pows! that pepper “Oxygène (Part II)”, and gave it a context that I’m sure Jarre could never have imagined. Suddenly the sounds became ricocheting bullets and the dull bass beat became the pounding hearts of the terrified young men in the trenches. Over the top of it all was the synth-strings shadowing everything with a spooky veil of breathy cyber-Adagio atmosphere. So whether it’s listening intently through the headphones or slapped on in the background, it’s well worth 40 minutes of your time.

By Decoy Spoon

Decoy’s Completely Biased Non-Definitive Guide To Music

Dire Straits - Communiqué (1979)

Though long considered by critics one of the daggiest groups of all time, Dire Straits produced a kind of post-Dylan soft-cock-rock that is still uniquely their own. (I suspect the tennis sweatbands had as much to do with that cynical designation, than just Mark Knopfler’s proclivity for solos). Despite the success of their first single, “Sultans of Swing”, I always felt they were more a mood band than a chart-storming hit machine. Almost prog-esque in some songs (“Telegraph Road”/”Private Investigations”), it’s not surprising they were embraced by the same audience as admirers of late 70s Pink Floyd. Sure, they made some overblown, over-extended guitar-driven songs that can seem over-indulgent and a few hours too long for most modern listeners. And I’m sure their audience was/is 99% white males. But they carved out a corner of the commercial music world for themselves with some great guitar work and top-notch production that was clean and smooth and hard to hate, completely. And I’m not afraid to admit that I still have a soft spot for the Knopf-meister and his bouncy white-sneaker brigade. And for my money, Communique is one of their best. Not as HUGE as Brothers In Arms or Love Over Gold, songs like “News”, “Where Do You Think You're Going?” and “Lady Writer” enable Communique to stand as a totem for the bands’ charm in a more subtle way. And I hold that “Once Upon A Time In The West” deserves some major reassessment as one of the great reggae infused rockers of all time. We can’t let The Police get all the white-reggae glory. Dig it.

---

Band Aid - Do They Know It’s Christmas? (1984)

Before Live 8, before Live Earth, and (more importantly,) before USA For Africa, Bob Geldof and Midge Ure came together to create Band Aid - an ensemble of popular UK musicians - to record the song “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” to raise money for and awareness of the famine in Ethiopia. The song, penned by Geldof and Ure, is a classic slice of 80s pop, rich with the sonic stylings of the time and as catchy as, I dunno, the common cold. The single, and the accompanying video proved to be a massive success (staying at #1 for five weeks and selling more than 3 million copies in the UK alone) and was a who’s who of 80s pop royalty: Paul Young, Boy George, Bono, Sting, George Michael, Phil Collins, Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet, Paul Weller, Bananarama, you name it. If they were pale, and they were popular, it was a good bet they were in the mix somewhere. The following year America jumped on the righteous bandwagon with USA for Africa and the song “We Are The World”, which I’m sure raised loads of cash for a good cause, and sported another star-studded cast including: Michael Jackson, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Tina Turner, Billy Joel, Lionel Ritchie, Paul Simon, Stevie Wonder, Cyndi Lauper and many others. But the song just wasn’t as good. It was 50 choruses too long for starters, and not half as 80s as the UK pioneer. “We Are The World” came off as heavy-handed and over-cooked, and it sounds more like USA for USA. (And poor old Springsteen would be parodied as the constipated crooner for the next ten years.) Anyway, start singing all you 80s kids…don’t pretend you don’t know the words.

Watch the video here:
http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=8jEnTSQStGE
and at 1:30 ask yourself: Who let in Bobcat Goldthwait???

USA for Africa - We Are The World
http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=M9BNoNFKCBI

---

Amy Winehouse - Back To Black (2006)

Much has been said about this album, simply because it’s so damn good. Much has been said about Amy Winehouse too, simply because she’s so damn wild. But you need to put that stuff out of your head and dig this album for what it is, which is one of the best damn soul albums of the modern era, by one of the greatest damn soul singers (and songwriters) of the modern era. Anyone who can come up with lines like: “What kind of fuckery is this?” or “It’s got me addicted/Does more than any dick did” or “Love is a fate resigned/Over futile odds/And laughed at by the Gods/And now the final frame/Love is a losing game”, is a gritty gutter poet that should be celebrated alongside Bukowski in my book. But there are many reasons to love this album. Every song is a winner. It sweeps through the full spectrum of the bittersweet human condition and makes great art out of the paradoxical struggle. It’s sad, yet sweet. It’s tough, yet fragile. It’s dark, yet the vocal melodies are pure sunshine. By taking cues from the legendary jazz sirens like Sarah Vaughan and Dinah Washington and Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holliday; the Phil Spector girl groups like The Ronettes and The Crystals, then filtering it all through the modern genres of Trip-Hop and R&B and Reggae/Dub/Ska, Amy and her band (The Dap Kings, check out also Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings albums) have conjured up a super seductive fresh brand of post-post-modern old-school cool. So ignore the media’s headlines and gossip and callous dogging of this promising young artist, and get yourself addicted.

By Decoy Spoon