Category Archives: Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009

Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009: #8 – Arular

The third installment in this series, in which I count down my list of best albums of the last decade. Coming in with bang at number 8, it’s that feisty firebrand, Ms Maya Arulpragasam and her eminent first album.

#8
M.I.A.
Arular
[2005]

M.I.A. - Arular

I wrote before about how a mutual appreciation for music formed the basis of one friendship in my life. Another friendship, I could possibly put down to a mutual appreciation for just one song in particular. Okay, well, it was more like two songs, really, but still…

In October 2006, just a couple of months after I moved to Nagasaki, some fellow JET Programme participants and I went on a long weekend road trip organized by our regional representatives. (The trip itself was highly eventful and I could probably write a few hundred words on how great it was, but I’m already on a tangent here and I need to stop going wildly off-topic in these posts.) One of the party members was an American girl named Lizzie, who was based on Fukue, the largest of the Gotō Islands. On the first night of the trip, we bonded over the Tom Tom Club’s ‘Genius of Love’. When it wasn’t available on the karaoke machine in the bar we went to in Shimonoseki that night, we put on that hit that sampled it and sang the original parts over it.

The next day, while staying at a campsite in Akiyoshidai, we cemented that bond with our shared love of this track:
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The start of a great friendship indeed. The following year, she was transferred from Fukue to Isahaya, a 30-minute train journey from Nagasaki and many good times were had, including some musical collaboration: memorably, Lizzie provided vocals to the quasi-lead single from my second album and then helped me make a video for it in her apartment. Again, veering off-topic, here – but I got some self-promotion in there, so I’ll let it slide…

But let’s rewind. I was first alerted to M.I.A. – most likely by Pitchfork or some other, hipster-y hype-y website – in early 2005. Arular had just been released, I believe, and there was a huge buzz surrounding her (in those hipster-y hype-y circles, at least). Actually, there had been a bit of buzz for a while about her, with her receiving a deal of attention for her Piracy Funds Terrorism mixtape. Indeed, ‘Galang’ had already been around for a while. As had ‘Sunshowers’:
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Semi-digression: ‘Sunshowers’ was the first song Lizzie or I found on karaoke systems in Japan. She was in Fukuoka and discovered it there, then sent me a picture taken with her phone of some of the lyrics on the screen. I don’t think ‘Galang’ or any other Arular tracks ever showed up any karaoke places I ever went to. The next to appear wasn’t until the autumn of 2007, when ‘Jimmy’ was released as the first single (in Japan anyway) from her second album, Kala. ‘Jimmy’ was actually really successful over there – it went to number 5 or 4 in the singles chart. ‘Paper Planes’ inevitably got on to the karaoke machines too, but it didn’t trouble the charts as much there.

But yes: 2005; M.I.A; first album buzz. I took the bait and downloaded (tut tut) the album, ripped from the US CD release. I loved it – and so I went out and bought the (UK) CD. And here’s the tricky part: they had slightly different tracklists. Now, the differences were slight enough, I suppose (and would later provide a running joke between Lizzie and me) – but this kind of thing kind of annoys me. I don’t know exactly why. I think it’s something to do with the idea that a studio album should have a kind of fixed, definitive place in an artist’s canon. Like, if the studio wants to release a deluxe version with bonus tracks on the end, whatever – not really a fan of the practice, but at least it leaves the original, artist-intended sequence intact, allowing the album to be properly appreciated/judged as a singular piece of work. (Though inevitably, there are those for whom the bonus track is just part of the album. I remember scolding another friend for saying he really liked “the last song” on Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Show Your Bones, when he was actually talking about the bonus track, ‘Deja Vu’. Not that the bonus track is terrible or anything, but the real last song, ‘Turn Into’, is such a brilliant album closer. It ties the whole thing up beautifully.)

So the existence of the differing tracklists poses a little bit of trouble. Well, maybe not. It seems like the tracklist of the UK release – which came out a month or so after the US one – has won out in the end. Previous talk of trouble with samples would suggest that the absence of ‘URAQT’ on the earlier US release was purely a legal thing. But that still doesn’t explain the two other differences: the replacement of one of the skits with another and the movement of ‘Sunshowers’ from just before ‘Galang’ at the end to track four. This change ticked me off. On one hand, it just seemed so arbitrary. On the other, more cynical hand, it felt like the studio just didn’t want both singles so late in the album and pulled one of them up near the front. Who knows. Perhaps that was the way M.I.A. herself always wanted it. But the thing is, it doesn’t work as well. The original tracklist just flowed better. Also, ‘URAQT’ isn’t very good. It kind of lets the album down.

Wow, two big paragraphs bitching about minor change to the running order! Go petty me! Okay, I’m over it at this stage. Let’s get on with the album itself.

The album itself fucking kicks ass. At the time, I’d heard nothing like it. Still, in fact, I haven’t really heard anything like it. Sure, I’ve heard things which clearly inspired Arular, but the particular combination/clash of sounds, themes and attitudes on display here remain quite unique. And quite brilliant. Like XTRMNTR, this album took me out of my usual, alternative rock comfort zone and challenged me. And I loved it. A big part of my love for Arular was the way you could dance to it. I’d always loved dancing – not that I was a particularly good dancer at all: my technique, inspired by the rock and pop music I would find myself dancing to, would mostly involve jumping up and down, sometimes shifting weight from one foot to the other. But you just couldn’t do that with this album. These songs just had grooves that commanded you to sway and swagger. Take ‘Bingo’, possibly my favourite track on the album. It has such a swing. You just have to bend your knees, move your hips and roll your shoulders. It would actually be nigh on impossible to pogo this song:
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That playful bounce is present throughout most of the songs – though perhaps not quite as lilting as on that track. First “proper” song, ‘Pull Up The People’ is a bit more tense and choppy, though still has a rallying call-to-arms feel. But it’s not nearly as aggressive or as in your face as track three (on both tracklists): ‘Bucky Done Gun’. This song, later released as the third single of the album, is a standout and a half. Definitely the most brazen song on the album, it manages to be bold without being abrasive. Some of the criticism of M.I.A.’s third album, Maya, seemed to centre on it being sonically harsh. Perhaps these critics felt she crossed a line on that album she managed to walk with a song like ‘Bucky’. When I eventually saw M.I.A. for the first time in Dublin last year – having been unable to see her when she toured Kala in Japan (even though a few friends I’d introduced to her got to go and ended up partying with her after the show. Grr.) – it was when she dropped ‘Bucky Done Gun’, a few songs into the set, that it all kicked off big style. It’s just a monster of a tune.

The other songs all fall between the bounce of ‘Bingo’ and the brass of ‘Bucky’. Closer to the former you’ve got songs like ‘Amazon’ and the aforementioned ‘Sunshowers’. On the more audacious side there are ‘Fire, Fire’ and ’10 Dollar’. But the tone does not vary erratically – and the “voice” is consistent throughout. And, like I said, you can dance to it all.

Both versions come to a close the ‘Galang’, which we already know is a stomper of a song, capable of forging friendships between people from different continents – living in a third continent. And then there’s ‘M.I.A.’ – the “hidden” or “secret” track. Where do I stand on those? In general, I don’t really see the point. I could kind of understand if everyone was still listening to vinyl records and there would be more of an actual element of surprise. But, with digital formats, most players will clearly reveal that there’s something added on the end of the last track. Although, in this case, because ‘M.I.A.’ is not preceded by a huge silent gap, people could potentially look at the timecodes and think, “Oh wow, a seven-minute version of ‘Galang’ – deadly!” I mean, if the track is an integral part of the album, why not give it its own track? If it’s not… why not give it its own track???

Actually, I think ‘M.I.A.’ is a good way to end the album. It’s sparse and simple, but – very directly – sums up Arulpragasam and what she’s about. Or at least, what she was claiming to be about back then. Only problem is: it’s not that danceable! And I somehow doubt it could inspire as many friendships as ‘Galang’ can. You never know, though!

Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009: #9 – The Argument

Continuing the series in which I explain why I elected to include certain albums on my somewhat spur-of-the-moment best of the last decade list. This time, it’s those revolutionary, not-so-young-anymore men from Washington, D.C.

#9
Fugazi
The Argument
[2001]

Fugazi - The Argument

I got to know Fugazi through my friend, Steven. I’ve got to know a lot of music through Steven. We have quite a long, shared musical history: introducing different artists and bands to one another; going to gigs; watching films about music; having lengthy discussions about music that would probably be mindnumbingly tedious and/or incomprehensible to anyone in the room with us (over the years we’ve even managed to develop a vocabulary of nonword vocalizations and hand gestures to describe certain emotional reactions to music). I think Steven is the only person I’ve ever had a telephone conversation with which consisted entirely of musical discourse.

Steven might correct me, but I believe this music-based camaraderie started when were about 15, when we realized we had similar listening habits. By that I don’t mean we listened to same bands, but we had a similar attitude to music. In particular, we both took an active approach to discovering new artists and to learning more about the artists we did listen to – something most of our classmates didn’t seem that interested in; or at least were not vocal about.

So this realization lead to some lunchtime symposia and CD exchanges. When, in the summer of 2000, I bought a secondhand bass guitar, he was the first person I ever played music with. He came over to our house and we played some Pixies and R.E.M. songs. That was the day he got me into The Clash, too.

And we’ve been great friends ever since. Aww!

Funnily enough, although that all began when were 15 or so, we’ve known each other since we were 7 or 8. In the early years we didn’t really get on at all. Hate’s a very strong word, but for exaggerated emphasis I’m going to go ahead and say we hated each other. I guess we can file this under the bridge-building power of music…

My introduction to Fugazi came from one of those early jam sessions in 2000. We were picking out songs to play and Steven suggested ‘Turkish Disco’ from the Instrument Soundtrack, because of its brilliant bass line:
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After that piqued my interest, he leant me the 13 Songs compilation and Red Medicine. The former I found it difficult to get into. It was a little bit too “punk” for me at the time. (At least, that’s what I thought at the time. Thinking about it now, that was a somewhat unusual reaction to have.) Well, obviously I loved ‘Waiting Room’. But it’s impossible not to love ‘Waiting Room’:
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Red Medicine was a different beast altogether. For one, it had possibly the best, most abrasive opening 50+ seconds to any album I’d heard:
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And the songs were rich, varied, exhilarating… And I realize I’ve spent nearly five hundred words not talking about the album I’m supposed to be talking about. I really need to cut down on these extended introductions.

I will have another quick aside though: Instrument, directed by Jem Cohen, is THE BEST FILM ABOUT MUSIC EVER MADE. No exaggeration. I’ve watched it about half a dozen times and it never fails to inspire me. I heartily recommend buying it.

The Argument, their sixth – and, in all likelihood, their final – studio album, came out in October 2001. Steven got his straight from Dischord. He lent it to me shortly after. Like Red Medicine, this album has a 50(-ish)-second introduction. The intro on The Argument, untitled and not at all abrasive, gets its own dedicated track. The sound of radio transmissions and static with a simple cello part on top, it certainly sets a different tone from the openings to the other releases in their catalogue. It’s soft, almost ethereal.

The first song proper is ‘Cashout’, sung by Ian MacKaye. That sentence doesn’t seem especially surprising, but in the context of their earlier work, it’s a minor shock. Up to that point, Ian MacKaye wasn’t really known for his “singing” – in the traditional sense, at least. The division of vocals in Fugazi was, if you oversimplified it, Ian does the shouting, Guy (Picciotto) does the singing. Of course there were exceptions along the way. It’s not like we didn’t know Ian could carry a tune (and Guy has done his fair share of wailing). Still, there was something odd about the first vocal you hear being Ian cooing melodically. Although sonically soft, the lyrical content is still hard-hitting, as you’d expect. Halfway through [spoiler alert!] good old shouty Ian does make a return to hammer the point home. But set alongside the tuneful opening, it’s much more dynamic and feels fresher because of it.

Almost the exact opposite happend on the following song, ‘Full Disclosure’. This one careers along, Guy screaming “I want out” repeatedly over buzz-saw guitars and a groovy rhythm until – BOOM – an upbeat chorus with “oooooh” backing vocals. And then full-on harmonies in the middle eight. This running theme of juxtapositions continues on the next song, ‘Epic Problem’, where stop-start, shouty-Ian (and brilliant, by the way) verses and choruses give way to an almost folky breakdown, with just guitar and voice. The rest of the band comes back in, loud and hard, but the melody in the vocal part is preserved.

In the opening section of the album, they somehow managed to confound expectations and hark back to the strengths of their older material, all the time maintaining this excitement. It’s brilliant.

Things go a bit more left field over the next couple of tracks. ‘Life and Limb’ is probably  my favourite on the album. Its verses are skeletal: Brendan Canty with a tight, restrained beat and guy playing an intricate but “light” guitar part and singing. When bass comes in, with the female backing vocal, it brings this amazing warmth. But at the same time, it has a very unsettling, nervy quality as all. This could be Guy’s ability to turn on the creepy stalker vibe (see the ‘Rend It’ demo on the Instrument Soundtrack). The track’s coup de grâce comes straight after the second chorus, where Guy sings “right away” and there’s short build up to a pause, which leaves you dangling precariously for four beats before …a guitar solo! Like Ian’s singing, guitar solos aren’t usually part of Fugazi’s repertoire. They allow themselves this rare one and it’s a treat. The whole song’s a treat:
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‘The Kill’ and ‘Strangelight’, the two longest songs on the album, keep the sparse eeriness going. Especially ‘The Kill’, bassist Joe Lally’s lead vocal effort. Things get back to “normal” then, with ‘Oh’, ‘Ex-Spectator’ and ‘Nightshop’, before we end on ‘Argument’, probably the most radically different song on the album. Radically different for the band, in that features Ian MacKaye singing melodically through the whole thing!

It seems I’ve short-changed the latter half of the album. I think this is just a simple case of me being too tired to continue writing, unlike in my look back at XTRMNTR, whose second half just isn’t quite as good as its first.

In October 2002, Steven and I saw Fugazi play at the Red Box (now Tripod) in Dublin. Due to technical difficulties, there was a considerable delay before they went on. But when they did they were incredible. Thinking back, it just adds to the disappointment that, like the prospect of a new album, the chances of seeing them on stage ever again are incredibly slim.

So, no more of this:

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or this:

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:(

Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009: #10 – XTRMNTR

Earlier this month, feeling nostalgic and slightly bored, and having neglected to do so last year, I decided to pick out my top ten albums of the last decade. I put the list up here, without giving any reasons for my choices. In this series, I will look at each album in turn and explain how it came into my life and why I love it so.

#10
Primal Scream
XTRMNTR
[2000]

Primal Scream - XTRMNTR

XTRMNTR is almost single-handedly responsible for opening me up to electronic music. Prior to this, I was very much of the mindset that if a song wasn’t played on “real” instruments, it wasn’t really worth listening to. R.E.M.’s Up might have softened me up a little, but there was still considerable resistance to anything not guitar-based.

I can’t remember exactly when I got the album.  I had, at whatever point it was, been familiar with Primal Scream for some time.  I have very vague recollections of their Screamadelica-era videos being on TV and of them winning the Mercury Music Prize. I never got Screamadelica, though, nor its follow-up with ‘Rocks’ on it.  Vanishing Point slipped under my radar when it was released in 1997, though I’d later come to know and love that one.

I do have a distinct memory of the video for ‘Kill All Hippies’, the second single from XTRMNTR, appearing on MTV2 one afternoon. I was immediately transfixed by the vivid visual style: monochrome film footage of WAR and SPORTS, together with lots of RED. But I had to change the channel quickly because I found the song was so annoying. It had all these drum loops and synthesizer parts and crazy effects and Bobby Gillespie kept singing the same few words over and over and over again. It was all so inorganic, so UNmusical, so ugh.

It was definitely sometime after July 2001 when I did get it. In that month’s issue of Q magazine, they had a list of their 50 Heaviest Albums Of All Time. This was one of them. I was a little bit confused. I wasn’t sure how that music from that video fit on a list mostly populated by hard rock and heavy metal albums. Could you really be heavy with keyboards?

The appearance on that list piqued my interest. The fact that Kevin Shields was involved further aroused my curiosity – it was about the same time that I was in full obsession mode with regard to My Bloody Valentine and their Loveless album. So, too, superficially enough, did the album title attract me. XTRMNTR: no vowels, all sharp, angular consonants (we’ll give R the benefit of the doubt). I decided to give it a chance.

This was during the first wave of peer-to-peer file sharing, where we were all downloading individual tracks rather than whole albums. I got two: ’Insect Royalty’ and ’Exterminator’. The former was fun. I was able to embrace the loops beats, the intermittent beeps and blips, the bizarre pitch shifted vocals. I still didn’t see how it was heavy, exactly, but I was enjoying it. The later track, I absolutely loved. It had this completely infectious groove. The repetition – one of the main things that had put me off electronic, especially dance, music for years – was its greatest asset. The bass was relentless, pummeling away throughout the song, while various instruments and sounds came in and out. I was hooked. I picked up a copy of the album on CD soon after.

‘Kill All Hippies’ opens proceedings. It took me a few listens to shake off my initial impression of it. I eventually got it, but it was definitely not immediate. On the other hand, the second track, ‘Accelerator’, is the epitome of immediacy. It’s loud, fast, heavy. It rocks. Hard. ‘Exterminator’ follows and then…

‘Swastika Eyes’. So much of my love for this album is comes from my love of this song. It’s so good, they had to put it on the album twice! Well, okay, the second version, the Chemical Brothers mix, is the album’s weakest link. It really wasn’t necessary and it’s really disappointing it was that mix which was released as a single – meaning that, unfortunately, it was the mix present on the karaoke machines I encountered in Japan.

Anyway, the first version, the REAL version, mixed by Jagz Kooner, is utterly phenomenal. Over seven minutes long, starting with a squealing siren and never letting up, save for a lull five minutes in, allowing you to collect your self before the propulsive finale. Looking back, it seems impossible that someone with such an allergy to all things electronic could ever have found himself listening to a track like this and loving it. But that’s what happened.

When I did my first ever stint as a DJ, five or so years later, in a tiny bar in Nagasaki, I centred my set around the version of ‘Swastika Eyes’ on Primal Scream’s Live in Japan CD. That performance matches the Jagz Kooner mix, but at a higher tempo, with a blaring extended intro.  I was so focused on getting that song cued correctly that I neglected to realize I had let the same four bars of the Chemical Brothers’ ‘Hey Boy Hey Girl’ loop for a couple of minutes. Oops.

Back to the album. Coming off ‘Swastika Eyes’, we come to ‘Pills’. Some people have dismissed ‘Pills’ as a bit of an embarrassment; Bobby G. as some kind of drunk uncle, trying and failing to do hip-hop. I can see where they’re coming from, but I think they might be taking it a bit too seriously. Of course, I might not be taking it as seriously as was intended. Maybe I have become the drunk uncle.

The latter half of the album is made up of: the brilliant instrumental, ‘Blood Money’; the album’s one slow song, ‘Keep Your Dreams’; ‘Insect Royalty’; Kevin Shields’s ‘MBV Arkestra’; the aforementioned, inferior mix of ‘Swastika Eyes’; and, to finish, ‘Shoot Speed/Kill Light’. Overall, the second half is a slight step down from the first. The later songs have similar sonic textures, giving the album as a whole the requisite cohesion, but quality-wise, the consistency is perhaps a little lacking.

So does it really deserve a place in my top ten? Aren’t there other, more consistent options? What about () or Takk… by Sigur Rós? Joanna Newsom’s first two albums? Well, yes. But this is the nature of these lists. If I sat down to do a top ten of the last decade again now, I could probably swap a couple of choices. Who knows how different my selections would be a decade from now. But on that day, at that time, this album, its first four tracks and the adrenaline rush they gave me – and continue to give me – stood out in my mind.

As I said, this album opened me up to a whole other sphere of music, to listen to and also to make. I still can’t work out precisely when I bought XTRMNTR. I know it was after that Q issue and I also know it was before May 2003. In that month, I dusted off the old Yamaha keyboard I had as a child and recorded my first proper electronic-based song, leading to all sorts of synthesizer adventures. I’m not sure if you think that’s a good thing or not, but I’m sure I’ll get round to writing something here in an attempt to convince you it was.