One record label worth keeping a close eye on is Michigan's Ghostly International. Formed in 1999 in and around the Detroit area, in Ann Arbor to be precise, the label is living proof that all is not lost in the electronic scene on the other side of the Atlantic. The fusion of electro, indie, rock and experimental electronica mean that this label is very much at the boundary of the innovative direction of modern independent music. Probably Ghostly's most famous signed artist is Matthew Dear, whose excellent electro-pop album Asa Breed , complete with Johnny-Cash-esque vocals, grabbed many headlines upon its release last year. Dear also produces some of the world's finest minimal techno under the name Audion, which makes the whole thing altogether more impressive. You can download Audion's stomping track Billy Says Go, which was dropped by Ellen Allien at Melt, at the bottom of this page. Other exciting artists to appear on the label include MidWest Product, the stomping electro of Kill Memory Crash, Osborne, whose self-titled recently released album has received air time on none less than The Small Hours,* and the classically-trained minimal techno purveyor Kate Simko. Ghostly also has a sister label, Spectral Sound, with, apparently, "releases as diverse as acid house workouts to glitched-out dub tracks, the Spectral Sound imprint strives to find the perfect balance between retro and future, art and dance".
You can see their full list of artists here Here is a quick video documentary on the label:
As a prerequisite to the following, we strongly urge you to see this:
That is how everyone looks at Melt. Everyone. Neon is dead; long live muted plaid, American Apparel, moustaches, short shorts and sour-faced apathy.
Now that a week of heart-wrenching melancholy has passed since the International Hipster Stare-Off that was Melt, BTBW is ready to recall what it can. Now bearing in mind that we collectively ate about half of a bratwurst in a week, this amounts to significantly less than it could have.
First mention must go to the fact that, no, this was NOT a haven of German efficiency and organisation. No shuttle bus at the click of your fingers.No U-bahn to the door of your tent. No, no - this was EAST Germany; a country with more in common with Belarus than with Bonn. Dessau? We’re talkin’ barren streets on a Friday, we’re talkin’ rusty Trabants, we’re talkin’ tumbleweed, we’re talkin’ highly suspicious and non-responsive communist-era check-out ladies. The kids don't stand a chance....
The result of the region’s unacceptable inability to absorb it’s new neighbour’s penchant for highly efficient public transport services was our ashamed absence at Burger/Voigt and Supermayer, the former having been highly anticipated on the back of the recent Gas record on Kompakt. Nevertheless, we weren’t complaining as we settled into the campsite atmosphere, curiously lacking as it was of mud, puke, knackers, fights, GAA jerseys, thievery and arson.
The setting, amid an old lake-side iron mine, was stunning. Five arenas were spaced around a jungle of industrial warehouses and colossal mid-century cranes – all dressed in neon lights and spectacular flames. It begs the question – why must these things always happen in shitty, swampy fields? For all the joys of Ferropolis, though, the music is really what sets Melt apart. Or to be most specific, the lack of shite music is what sets Melt apart. No Fratellis here, Tonto.
Friday night brought us the joys of Germany’s finest techno labels, Kompakt and BPitch Control. First up after our giddy post-entrance jigs was the mighty Gui Boratto. His excellent Chromophobia record got a fine airing, although, oddly, Beautiful Life was omitted – perhaps for fear of being a tad too ethereal for a discerning opening night audience. After this came one of the highlights of this and probably most festivals this year: an absolutely rasping performance by the incomparable Modeselektor. Whatever reservation evident amongst punters earlier on in the evening was wholly washed off in three minutes alone by Black Block. The visuals, the energy and, of course, the big monkey spraying champagne on the front row combined to make it the most unforgettable performance of the weekend. Voici:
The rest of Friday evening brought us two doses of Ellen Allien's trademark deep minimal techno, fitting in either side of a set from Sascha Funke. The fun was only beginning at that stage though, as the joys of the Sleepless Floor were then discovered by BTBW. It was here that the outrageous disregard for the phenomenon that is sleep became apparent. The festival seemed to have arranged it that anyone who wanted to go non-stop for the three days could do so without much hindrance. An arena by the lake covered in artificial sand, Sleepless Floor kept going pretty much 24 hours a day, with BTBW struggling home at 3pm Saturday in order to salvage the rest of the weekend, after a deluge of shite-talk, terrible dancing and sand-throwing had subsided. The quality of music playing set Sleepless Floor apart from any other festival after-party we have seen. Here is but a tiny sample of what went on:
Onto Saturday then, and a campsite rave – courtesy of Audiolith (a worthy highlight of any other festival) – quickly set us off again. An afternoon return to the Sleepless Floor couldn’t be resisted as the masses (well, ten of us) gathered in anticipation of Jape’s evening set at the Gemini stage. And, well, Jesus. What a belter. Egan bombed through his most energetic material in front of a packed out arena. (Many apologies, incidentally, to the throngs of slightly miffed Berliners for our insistence on being loud, jumpy, and very much in front of them). We’ve said before that his is a brand of music that could really hold its own in front of a foreign audience. And we were right. So there.
Then we were meant to go to Whitest Boy Alive, to see the God that is Erlend Oye live in the flesh, in possibly the greatest moment ever. But the arena was full. So, tough luck there.
Tails between legs, we laid faith on Franz Ferdinand to lift spirits. That they certainly did, with a snappy set comprising of one or two characteristically sharp new tunes dotted amongst the finest material from their first two albums. Despite the undoubted gusto of their performance, you couldn’t help but sense a slight streak of nervousness in Kapranos’ demeanor as the Glaswegians attempted to shake of the cobwebs accumulated in nearly two years in the studio. We expect to see them back to their charismatic, charmingly arrogant best by Electric Picnic. And to the scenesters who think it’s now crushingly uncool to still like them – fuck off.
The Gemini stage confirmed its legendary status as Mr. Oizo blew the crowd away with a blistering two hours of dirty, relentless, Parisian electro. The bouncy floor added to the madness of this one.This was the kind of gig that would send you to confession. See it for yourself here:
The night then moved down-tempo as Matthew Johnson and Steve Bug treated the crowds to the most elegant, perfectly-selected minimal techno as the sun came up across the lake.In between these two we experienced the Red Bull Academy’s thumping atmosphere – young DJs out-mixing each other with nods to MIA and MGMT, amongst others - truly beautiful moments, well borne out in the following video from Steve Bug’s set:
After Bug the mindless skullduggery continued at the Sleepless Floor until midday Sunday. What a place…
Despite Hot Chip, despite Bjork, Battles and the Berlin Battery Allstars, Sunday will be remembered for one thing and one thing only:
James Blunt earned a place in The Guinnes Book of Records for the fastest selling album in one year(2006). In Britian alone Back to Bedlam sold over three million copies and was certified 10x platinum. The album eventually sold 11 million copies worldwide and topped the album charts in 16 territories. Compare this with Van Morrisson's critically acclaimed 1968 album Astral Weeks which, 33 years after its inital release, eventually achieved gold status.
It can safely be said that Back to Bedlam won't be appearing on any authorative lists detailing the best albums of all time. Astral Weeks, however, was listed at number 2 in Mojo's 1995 list: The 100 Best Albums. It featured at number 19 on the Rolling Stone Magazine's: The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time in 2003. It also ranked number 5 in The Ticket's: Top 40 Irish Albums of All Time.
So, what is the reason for the massive difference of opinion between the music buying public and professional critics as to what constitutes good music? Surely people who are paid to review an album and hold themselves out to be an authority on such matters should be appreciative of music that has sold hugely across the globe and, further, should hold a degree of influence over the music buying public.
It is rarely the case that the public and critcs agree on the merits of a particular song/album and share a common appreciation of its appeal. A discernable pattern emerges when the music beloved of critics is examined. Critics are particularly concerned with emotion, lyrics, innovation and authenticity. Attributes absent in the majority of popular music. It is not that they are using different criteria to asses music, they are simply giving greater weight to some of them. Critics' favourites that the public hate include: Captain Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica, Robert Wyatt's Dondestan and Van's Astral Weeks.
The music buying public, on the other hand, derive most satisfaction from material that places emphasis on melody, entertainment, escapism, immediacy and imagery. Attributes that critics often downweight. Public favourites that the critics hate include: Meat Loaf's "Bat out of Hell", "Hotel California" by the Eagles and, of course, ANYTHING by James Blunt.
There has been plenty of recent evidence to suggest that the tastes of critcs and the public can converge. I, personally, was greeted with looks of disgust on the admission that I believed that Rhianna's "Umbrella" was a good song. I didn't "like it-like it" but could appreciate how the song "ticked all the boxes" on the road to creating a well crafted pop song that caused quite a stir on it's release. Other examples of agreement between the normally divided factions include "Hey Ya" by Outcast, "Crazy"- Gnarls Barkley and Amy Winehouse's "Rehab". Critics adored them as much as the millions who bought them.
Overall, it seems that true music critcs have an influence over a limited group of people. These people are happy to shun the zeitgeist in search of something more challenging despite looks of confusion when queried on musical preferences on a regular basis. It is also interesting to note that both sets can reach a harmonious common-ground in some instances. I always remeber reading somewhere in the past that the melody of a song makes you fall in "like" with a song, whereas, the lyrics make you fall in love. I suppose critics search out love, and overall, are more susceptible to falling head over heels.
* I must credit Mark Edwards of The Sunday Times for much of the basis of this piece.
We all know the Evil ones' favourite secret recipes for world domination include oil, weapons and Cuban doctors. So when the lads get together for a party and Fidel can't come play, you can guess the outcome. Yup, Hugo headed to Moscow, got tanked on Vodka (see photo, our Dmitri is hammered), and signed some oil deals between Russian firms and the Venezuelan state oil firm. While there, they of course also signed an arms deal for poor Hugo, to "guarantee the sovereignty of Venezuela which is being threatened by the United States". They also heralded the now-cliched "era of closer relations". Go on the lads!
Our latest feature will keep an eye on the goings on inside the world's favourite group of countries. No, not the Benelux, silly!!! It's The Axis of Evil!!!
Fleet Foxes, the toast of this year's SXSW, are a band earning rave reviews the world over the last few months. They come to Dublin's Vicar St in November for a gig that will surely sell out in a hurry. Listen to their self-titled album here
And see them perform White Winter Hymnal in Whelan's earlier this year here:
Been wondering what the Yeah Yeah Yeahs have been up to of late? It seems frontwoman Karen O has been flying solo, recording a much more subtle and tender sound under the name Native Korean Rock. She made her solo debut (and swansong it seems) in Brooklyn this past week. "I don't think there will be any more shows like this". Conclusive enough for me. "I felt really nostalgic about playing love songs in New York in the summer because it's pretty much what I did before the Yeah Yeah Yeahs," she told NME. "It's just what I felt like doing right now." She played two gigs on Monday evening last, to 100 people each, and then that was that. A mayfly-esque live career was over and done with. Here's a video from the gig
One of the finest ambassadors for the "pretty to philthy" spectrum, Germany's Pantha du Prince, makes a long-awaited visit to Ireland for a twosie in a few weeks' time. Solo artist Hendrik Weber of Hamburg's Dial label, who seems to have Aphex Twin - like personal characteristics* has produced some of the finest electronic music of the past few years. Genuinely ethereal electronica tracks such as Asha and Saturn Strobe from his newer album This Bliss, intersperse effortlessly in his back catalogue with darker efforts such as White Out and Glycerine and belters such as Eisregen and Butterfly Girl. He comes to Andrew's Lane in Dublin on Saturday August 2nd, and to De Burgo's in Galway the night before, Friday 1st. This is a must-see gig. Who knows, BTBW might even "Pull a Morrissey" and head along to both. We are THAT sad after all....
* He enjoys "fishing in the morning and philosophising in the evening".....
BTBW had the pleasure of taking one of its more random trips last week. Sneaking our way up the Swedish coast, doing unparalleled work for Irish-Swedish ties along the way, we made our way to Gallivare in Lapland for a few days of the VIVA World Cup 2008. This is a tournament organised by the NF Board,with the aim of allowing peoples not eligible to be represented in FIFA tournaments an opportunity to see their team compete. Any people with a unique cultural identity is eligible to compete. The NF board now comprises roughly 30 member 'states', ranging from regions with violent political struggles in place (Tibet, Kurdistan), to the separatist Padania of Northern Italy, to displaced peoples such as the speakers of the Arameic language, to a bunch of lads having a laugh like Provence and Sealand. The Lapland people, known as the Sami, were this year's hosts, with only 5 teams making the trip due to financial difficulties. Padania (with players from Chievo, Treviso and Vicenza) won it out, defeating The Arameic team in the final 2-0. The football is only secondary to the significance this tournament, whose organisers hope to keep completely apolitical, has to the peoples of some of these regions. We attended Kurdistan-Aramea, along with less than 1,000 people, while 10 million people watched the game on TV or internet stream in Kurdistan. Mind-boggling figures indeed. It was a true pleasure to see sport used as a motor for the expression of one's identity, and as a tool for unifying people from all around the world in a healthy and friendly atmosphere. The craic amongst locals, visitors, officials and players was second to none in the Grand Lapland Hotel (special mention to the outrageous barmaids). It was a million miles from the pragmatic, diving, cynical world of Ronaldo's slavery hell. Expect to see the number of teams and the level of interest rise for the next VIVA world cup in 2010. But remember where you read about it first.
Check out a video-synopsis of the tournament here:
And here's some proof that the Kurds were taking it seriously
A wonderfully punchy track from Datashat's 'nicer' side; guided by soft minimal glitches, a gritty electronic engine and a subtle piano reverb. Taken from Donal Dineen's Small Hours Summer Mornings compilation for Foggy Notions last summer - still the most refereshingly coherent compilation you're likely to hear anywhere.
Our favourite autonomous republic under Georgian auspices is looking increasingly getchy. Bow little Georgians, bow to the might of Russia. Mwaaa haa haa haa haa haa etc.
A recent article in the Guardian suggests that the ladies are well on their way to taking over Berlin's world-beating electronic music scene. Citing the fortunes of Anja Schneider (a very impressive support to James Holden in Spy in May), head of Mobilee records, and Ellen Allien, head of BPitch control, the article suggests that nowhere else on earth allows women the chance to gain such status. While the author fails to mention the role of Michael Mayer's Kompakt or Richie Hawtin's M_nus in all that goes on in the great hub of all things clicky and bleepy, he is certainly onto something. An open-minded (Berlin has an openly gay mayor), young, experimental and artistic population have meant that the leering, macho interactions between boozy men and women in certain other countries are non-existant in Berlin. This environment has greatly expanded the road to greatness for female artists. Magda, one of the most respected producers and live performers in the city must also be included in this list. Check her out dropping a suitably dark evil track here at Watergate. A track id would be great too!!
Check Anja Schneider out here, the first track in this video is just delicious
Of course we went to both. We are THAT sad. Travelling cross-country on desperate life-changing hangovers seemed like a doddle once the great man was there in front of us. (The naggin of Jameson may have helped.....)
For the general sentiment on seeing Steven P (he hates that horrid 'ph', Eoin), see Eoin's post
Despite a few more pounds around the waist (maybe it's time to ditch the topless routine? anyone?), Morrissey is still the showman he ever was. Highlights of both nights included How Soon is Now, particularly in IMMA, where the band did an epic instrumental few minutes at the song's end, Life is a Pigsty, Ask (probably the best singalong) and of course The First of the Gang to Die.
Given that the man is a solo artist for roughly two decades, it is perhaps a pity that the majority of the crowd were most vociferous for the few Smiths songs he played. Either that, or the Smiths are simply one of the best bands of all time, a fact of which Morrissey's solo work will always be a victim, and it is just to be expected. Either way, an amazing experience to have finally seen him in the flesh, and encouraging to see that he is still as arrogant, witty and controversial as ever.
See the fun (and the psychopathic roars and yelps of one fan), here:
"Here we are at the Museum of Modern Art... and I... am modern art"
Indeed. And so the few thousand present at the IMMA on Saturday would concur as Stephen P lead through the finest moments of his solo career to date (an opening Irish Blood, English Heart was suitably rousing), while intermittantly reminding us of just how special the Smiths really are. It was, and still is, a strange feeling to have finally seen such a pioneer; his charisma, his passion, and his sheer audacity are as utterly striking as his output over the past two decades would lead you to hope. To have seen him in such form was a thrill.
Our whenever-we're-arsed feature, born out of a series of outrageously giddy and hyperbolic text messages proclaiming whatever song we happened to be listening to at the time to be 'The Best Song In The World'.
Resulting confusion necessitated the 'Today' qualifier to be appended.
About Us
Beyond the Big Wave is a place where you’ll find self-involved and over-stated thoughts on records, gigs, life, politics and other (generally music-related) drivel. Expect unreasonable derision, baseless hyperbole and petty one-upmanship in abundance throughout our endeavours. We fully intend on stealing the internet connection from our helplessly oblivious neighbours.
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The music on this site is intended to inspire you to support the musicians who make it. If you like the song, support the band, buy the album, or go to the gig. If your music is posted here and you would rather it not be, please contact us and it will be removed immediately.
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A strike, a smack, a state so dreary, Alas, the proof! Our flawless theory. Fear not, let’s go - let’s be brave.
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