The Madwoman’s Underclothes
Like every other thirty-something music junkie in Britain, I’m fascinated by the new Kate Bush album. As fans go, I’m not that fanatical; for years the only Kate records I owned were the Hounds of Love 7”, The Whole Story, The Red Shoes and The Sensual World. But I considered the last to be one of the best albums of the 1980s, so I guess that makes me a bit of a fan. Never felt compelled to explore the early albums, though.
Aerial looks like the one that will compel me. Deceptively low-key on the first few listens, the collective pull of its sixteen modest tugs is strong indeed. Everyone’s mentioning the “washing machine” verse of “Mrs Bartolozzi”, but I can’t get past “Pi” with its early-’70s Pete Townshend synths and the most beautifully sung string of numbers on record. It’s the second disk, though, that makes this the equal of any of her (later) albums; tracks like “Prologue”, “Sunset” and “Aerial” will keep me coming back to it again and again. And while some might see “Aerial Tal” as more evidence of Mad Kate, it takes a rare genius to record something we’ve all done on our happiest, sunniest days: singing along to birdsong.
True, some of the instrumentation sounds dated; many of the soundscapes are familiar from her ’80s and ’90s albums. But because she hasn’t worn them out in the intervening 12 years, they feel less like an artist short of ideas than a familiar signature in the corner of the canvas. If ever there was evidence that it pays not to keep knocking stuff out regardless of inspiration but instead to wait until the inspired moments have accumulated into something substantial, it’s Aerial.
I wish I could say the same of Mike Oldfield’s new album, Light + Shade, which I picked up about a month ago and listened to half-heartedly for a week. Like Aerial, it’s a double—guess what the disks are called—and many of the soundscapes are familiar. The familiarity, though, is from Mike’s flirtations with Ibiza techno and the more soporific reaches of chillout, rather than his distinctive guitar work of the ’70s and ’80s. Which is not to say that his techno moments can’t be successful: some of the better tracks on Shade crank up the BPMs, and his last truly good album (Tubular Bells III, 1998; I wish he’d called it something else) was similarly dancefloor-influenced. But too much of Light + Shade relies on software samples and presets, lending the album a secondhand feel—something you could never say about his early work, whether you liked it or not. What this needed, like most of his work of the past fifteen years, was Tom Newman in the passenger seat and ruthless pruning.
What a lot of music I’ve listened to since I last reviewed any here... I might as well run through some more highlights. Unlike Ed, I fell in love with Elbow’s Leaders of the Free World more or less instantly. It feels more like their first album than Cast of Thousands, which is still their best. But unlike the new Coldplay, this doesn’t tail off badly in the second half, and the highlights are amazing: the title track, “Mexican Stand-off” and “Station Approach” are monstrous rock anthems to match any comers, and “Picky Bugger” and “My Very Best” stick just as firmly in the mind. Even if Guy Garvey does still sound uncannily like Peter Gabriel.
Other repeat-to-death albums have included the New Pornographers’ Twin Cinema (not quite as good as Electric Version, but still very satisfying), Ian Brown’s Solarized, and Mint Royale’s See You in the Morning, a sample-happy album perfect for any fan of Lemon Jelly or Mr Scruff—the reeping frogs of “Little Words” get me every time. Alfie’s Crying at Teatime, Supergrass’s Road to Rouen, Daft Punk’s Human After All and Garbage’s Bleed Like Me all have their moments: the last is a big improvement on beautifulgarbage, the others a bit of a step down from their previous albums. Harvey Danger’s Little by Little is worth the free download, too.
The Proclaimers’ Restless Soul has flashes of brilliance—the jaunty “DIY”, which kicks off “Warmongers/Kill yourselves/Demonstrate the power of the product that you’re trying to sell”, and the haunting “He Just Can’t”, about domestic violence—but sounds less inspired overall than 2003’s Born Innocent, whose “There’s No Doubt” is one of my favourite songs ever.
The biggest disappointment of 2005 has been the Dandy Warhols’ Odditorium or Warlords of Mars, a noodling noisefest without any of the hooks of their old stuff; I love all of their earlier albums, which makes this even more of a comedown. People bag Pitchfork for being more indie than thou, but even they weren’t fooled by this bloated sack of stoner in-jokes. The dope you aren’t.
Oh, and in the “newly-discovered old stuff” camp, ripping the Longpigs’ first album for the mp3 player inspired me to track down their second, Mobile Home (1999), which turns out to be excellent; up there with the Bluetones’ Science and Nature among the great lost Britpop classics.
11 November 2005
"pi" is sublime isn't it. A great Kate Bush album..heck..a great album full stop!!
Added by GAz on 14 November 2005.
Absolutely... I’m listening to it more and more. One of the best double albums ever, too.
Added by Rory on 14 November 2005.
Well, after that review I'll have to run down a copy. In contrast to your preferences, Rory, I've always been partial to the old stuff -- and not just because of my teenage nerdboy swoon over those stockings falling to the floor in "Feel It." Although it's hard to argue with the notion that Hounds of Love is her masterpiece of meldodrama (even the fake-o Yeatsisms on side 2 are well deployed, and there's something that has always brought tears to my eyes in "The Morning Fog" -- such sweetness after all those histrionics), I've actually been rotating through a lot of The Kick Inside and The Dreaming over the last year ("James and the Cold Gun" and the title track particularly from the former, and "Suspended in Gaffa" from the latter -- who doesn't love a prog-rock waltz?).
"The Sensual World" came out after I had pretty much left behind my Peter Gabriel/prog worship and was diving into all of the punk/indie stuff I'd missed while listening to Security and The Minstrel in the Gallery. So it came off as "too slick" for my tastes, much in the same way that Gabriel's last two records, for all their appealing moments, fall short of the sort of transfigured energy that his earlier albums offered up. That said, I've always liked "Love and Anger" and the one with the Bulgarian chorus. I didn't bother with The Red Shoes after that. But it sounds like I should give the new one a thorough listen.
Added by BT on 14 November 2005.
I know all the early singles of course, and bought The Hounds of Love album a year or so ago and liked it. After writing this entry I finally took the plunge with The Dreaming, which I also like, because you can see aspects of her later work in it; as well as Never For Ever, which is a bit too melodramatic for my tastes.
I recommend The Red Shoes. I know a lot of her fans seem not to like it, but “Rubberband Girl” and “Eat the Music” are worth the few bucks it costs on Amazon, and the rest of it is perfectly fine, too. Certainly overshadowed by Aerial, though.
Added by Rory on 14 November 2005.