Category Archives: Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009

Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009: #3 – Funeral

Nearing the end of a series on my top ten albums of that decade that recently ended. Two more after this. But first…

#3
Arcade Fire
Funeral
[2004]

Arcade Fire - Funeral

Returning cast members:

One day in late 2004, Dave, Steven and I headed out to Peter’s gaff for an afternoon. Though not entirely rare occurrences, trips out to Peter’s were always a bit special. While we all lived in Bray, his house was in Newcastle. Not a world away – only about 15km, but enough to classify a venture out there as kind of a “trip”. Peter would undoubtedly disagree, as he commuted from Newcastle to Bray every day when we were in school together.  Maybe it’s that we were heading in the opposite direction of Dublin that made it feel more trip-like…

Also, unlike our anonymous residences in mundane housing estates (I think Dave H’s and my houses, though in different estates, are actually identical buildings), Peter lived in a big, old house on a farm. And there were always freshly-baked scones and cakes and other delights in the kitchen. And at some point he got a full-size snooker table. And, obviously, Peter’s great company regardless. In short: good times were had!

Usually, the primary motivation for trips out to Peter’s was music. Having a drum kit and a lack of immediate neighbours, it was an ideal venue for practising. As the years went on, jam sessions remained our cited reason for heading out to Newcastle, but really it was just an excuse to hang out. Not that we really needed one. But we still brought our guitars and amps. And we still had a go at a few songs each time. Usually the same songs every time…

Music was at the forefront of these get-togethers in another way, too. We would often use the opportunity to play each other new CDs we’d picked up, new bands we’d discovered, or old bands we’d uncovered.

This particular day was the day Steven unleashed Arcade Fire on us.

Except… it wasn’t actually when we were in Peter’s house. I distinctly remember us having said goodbye to Peter and being on our way back to Bray, in Dave’s car. Steven was raving about this Canada-based band he’d heard/read about and had ordered their debut album from their website, because it hadn’t even been released on this side of the Atlantic yet (…that’s right, Steven heard Arcade Fire before you!).

He put the CD in the player and put on track 2, ’Neighborhood #2 (Laïka)’:

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As with many of the new things Steven plays me, I was instantly, automatically dismissive. I decried the song’s use of the accordion – the most obnoxious instrument in the universe.  This reaction was mostly a joke, of course – although I do genuinely hate accordions.

My memories of how Arcade Fire and I made peace are more blurry. I did buy a physical copy of Funeral, when it eventually arrived on our shores in February or March the following year, but this was long after I’d started listening repeatedly to my MP3 copy of the album. I’m 80-90% sure that I hadn’t downloaded that copy, but had ripped Steven’s CD. I don’t remember when I got that off of him (or when he insisted I give it a proper listen). It could have been on that very day we’d gone to Peter’s. But it’s more likely that Dave, who had responded enthusiastically to it – as he does most things, claimed borrowing rights first.

Either way, my winter of 2004/2005 was warmed by a certain Fire.

Would my very first appraisal have been different, had Steven first played the first song on the album? I somehow doubt it, as ’Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)’ was a slow burner for me. Heck, it’s possible that he did actually play it – and I just didn’t pay attention.  Not a slow burner in that it took my ages to go from disliking to liking it. I did liked it almost straight away. It just wasn’t a knock-out blow. It grew on me more and more over time, though, to the point where I absolutely loved it. In fact, in the years that have followed, my love for it has continued to grow even more. It could now even be a strong contender for my pick of the entire album:

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But, yes, it wasn’t an instantaneous love. Much unlike the album’s fourth track – the third of the ‘Neighborhood’ suite that dominates the first half of the album. I don’t know if it was on the very first listen, but ’Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)’, was definitely the song that made me sit up and listen. It’s beast of a song – loud, urgent, passionate:

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This instant love would soon be matched and surpassed by the album’s other main high-energy track, the penultimate number, ’Rebellion (Lies)’. Even listening to it now for the zillionth time, it’s irresistibly rousing. The kick drum pounds amidst the noises lingering from the previous track. The bass drops in and lays a simple, steady foundation. And after a couple of bars there’s a snap of the snare drum and the piano comes in. That moment never fails to send shivers down my spine.   And it’s only the beginning.  The song goes on to take over world:

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Funeral has quite a few of those special moments: when Win cries “the pains of love” in ‘Crown of Love’, the climax of ‘In the Backseat’, the point at exactly 3:44 in ‘Tunnels’, where the slow, consistent build bursts out into the open… I could go on.

One song that many people connected with, but I had to be all snobby and contrary about, was ‘Wake Up’:

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Of course, it’s a very good song. I’m not going to even try and deny that. And I’m not going to refrain from singing along with everyone when it’s played at party – or at an Arcade Fire gig, as it was as the last song of the night when I eventually saw them on their tour for The Suburbs. BUT, it has to the most overrated song on the album. Possibly their most overrated song on any album. The wordless chorus may be anthemic, but it’s just a bit too easy. And the whole “let’s-change-it-up-for-the-end” trick was already done twice (and to greater effect each time) on ‘Une Année Sans Lumière’ and on ‘Crown of Love’, the song which immediately precedes it.

It’s still good. I don’t skip it or anything. If anything it makes me all the more excited when ‘Haïti’ kicks in! (And that excitement probably has more to do with the building anticipation for ‘Rebellion’…).

But I’m just nitpicking. The album as a whole is still a colossal piece of recorded music. I definitely came to realize this.

Part of the reason I did, interestingly enough, was through seeing clips of the band’s live shows, on TV and online. It was impossible not to get wrapped up in the energy of their performances. Live renditions of ‘Neighborhood #2′ were especially engaging, even if it did still have the accordion. Richard Reed Parry and Will Butler would go completely apeshit on stage (and sometimes off), hitting everything they could find, even each other, with drumsticks.

Their performances also often featured one of my most favourite things to see in a live show – members who don’t have singing parts and don’t have microphones in front of them, singing along with gusto anyway.  I love it!

The absolute best, though, was when they paired those two high-energy highlights, ‘Power Out’ and ‘Rebellion’, with a noisy maelstrom of a segue in between. They’ve done it so many times since, it’s never a surprise. But the effect is phenomenal.  I said the latter’s intro sounded fantastic coming out of the swirling coda of ‘Haïti’, but it’s another universe of excellence when it bounds out of the cacophony that explodes out of the end of ‘Power Out’. They ended their main set with this combo when I saw them in Dublin and it was incredible:

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Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009: #4 – Fever To Tell

We continue counting down my top ten albums of the last decade, with the debut album of a certain bass-eschewing triple-word three-piece – the highest placing release by an American act on the list.

#4
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Fever To Tell
[2003]

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Fever To Tell

Yeah Yeah Yeahs first appeared in 2001 or so, riding the wave of interest in the supposed new-new-wave scene that had sprung up around The Strokes and their highly successful first album Is This It. They didn’t have a full-length album of their own at the time – just a five-song, self-titled EP, which caused quite a few folk to question the level of hype that surrounded them. There were accused of being all style and image – just a troika of poseurs.

That EP was fantastic though. Not that I heard it at the time. I did read about the minor controversy when BBC allowed ‘Bang’ to be played uncensored on daytime radio. (The chorus consists of Karen O repeating: “As a fuck, son, you suck.” - apparently the manager told the Beeb that she was singing “as a funk song you suck”.) I also missed out on the follow year’s three-song EP, Machine, with its fantastic, all-too-overlooked title title track.

It is possible – nay, probable – that my first experience of hearing the band was seeing the video of the first single from Fever to Tell on TV.

But it didn’t stick in my mind, so let’s pretend it didn’t happen.

My first experience of hearing the Yeah Yeah Yeahs occurred on trip to the United States in the summer of 2003 – my first and, thus far, only trip across the Atlantic. First stop was Boston – and it wasn’t long before I found myself in a music shop (or “record store”). One of the first things to surprise and amaze me was a fairly obvious, but foreign to Ireland, technological innovation: listening posts with barcode readers. You scan the CD and you have a listen. Simple, but brilliant. (I’d later find the same thing in Japan, but I still have never ever seen it in Ireland.)

And it was very near one of these magical listening posts that I saw the brash, in-your-face, violent cover art of Fever to Tell. If they were only style and no substance, at least the style stuff was interesting.

I plopped on the headphones. Scanned the disc. And was greeted by some effects-laden guitar harmonics. Then some pounding drums. Then a little sly hint of some other, louder guitars, ushering in a cocksure female vocal. Then feedback. Then riff. Then a break. Then “HEY!”:

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I don’t think I even listened past that first song. I just went and bought it. If I’d kept listening I would have gotten a blast of that first single I somehow managed to ignore before. Listening to the song now, it seems inconceivable that it could not have generated some interest. Even after the hundredth listen, ‘Date with the Night’ still grabs you by the fucking balls:

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I didn’t get to give the album a full listen until I got back to Ireland. It didn’t take me very long to get into it, though. The songs were short, sharp and to the point. The first five songs fly by in less than thirteen minutes. Each visceral – both musically and lyrically. Sexual too.

The sixth song changed the game in two minutes. That song, ‘Pin’, also released as the album’s second single, traded in the aggression for something more playful and melodic. Poppy, even. Maybe:

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On all of these songs, the setup – just vocals, guitar and drums – allowed each member of the band to shine, without treading on each other’s toes. (Not unlike how The White Stripes, more indirect beneficiaries of The Strokes’ success, operated – although in their case, one person was responsible for two of the three elements). Karen O’s had incredible presence. I know that quality is usually described when talking about live performers, but with her you can hear it on the recording (though she seems to have plenty of presence live too…). Brian Chase’s drumming somehow managed have both a light touch and raw power. And Nick Zinner’s guitar work was very literally music to my ears.  None of what he plays is superfluous. Every bit of sound he rings out, whether it’s a distinct note or sheer noise, is essential.

Getting back to the album… after ‘Pin’ popped things up, the album got a bit darker. ‘Cold Light’ and ‘No No No’ remain my least favourite songs on the album. But they’re a necessary part of the running order – taking the album down a more off-beat route before revealing its trump card(s).

With the possible exception of ‘Our Time’, Nothing on the Yeah Yeah Yeahs or Machine EPs really hinted at a softer side. But that’s what comes right to the fore for most of the final third of the album. The last song on the track list, ‘Modern Romance’ and the CD’s hidden track, ‘Poor Song’, are both contenders for the slow set. The former a gentle lilting number, the latter a drunken, end-of-the-night, hold-each-other-up stagger.

The real jewel, of course, was the song – and the video – that made the band:

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You can’t ignore the greatness of the song. And on the album, especially after the relative dirge of ‘No No No’, it commands your attention. And I know that I should only really be talking about the music, since it’s the album I’m praising. But that video – it’s impossible to deny. A simple performance set-up, with only some coloured lighting and a couple of lens flares to embellish it. All the power comes through Karen O. She’s absolutely incredible in it.

Song and video together, ‘Maps’ probably remains the band’s finest moment.

But when I do manage to abstract the song from the audio-visual combination, although I still love it, it wouldn’t be my pick of the album. For a bit, that honour went to ‘Tick’. Appearing in that blitz of songs on the first half of the album, it’s undoubtedly the most urgent on the album:

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Alas, its reign at the top was, though not as short as the song itself, quite brief.

I said a few paragraphs ago that the soft side of the band came to the fore for most of the album’s final third. That qualification was because one of those later songs was not soft at all. Coming right between ‘Maps’ and ‘Modern Romance’, this song ensured that the album did not fade out quietly. And released as the fourth and final single, ‘Y Control’ gave the band’s Fever to Tell ”cycle” a blistering send off:

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(I could only find the uncut/uncensored version of Spike Jonze’s video, which is a shame – the censored version worked a lot better.)

‘Y Control’ takes the energy of the earlier tracks on the album – even mirroring the harmonics of the first track ‘Rich’ with a siren-like looping guitar line – but adds to it the depth of the latter half of the disc. And taking the best elements of the album, it manages to pull them together without diminishing either. Indeed, it creates something even better. It does everything right.

Even when I go back and watch that ‘Maps’ video, when it gets to the end – my main feeling is one of disappointment, because it doesn’t follow through on that retained mini-segue into the next song and just cuts off instead.

But I’m getting a bit nitpicky now…

Overall, the album is a powerhouse. The band would go on to do very different things with the following albums. And not without success. But there’s something about the energy of Fever to Tell that makes it stick with you more instantaneously – and more indelibly – than its successors could achieve.

I don’t love them like I love you.

Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009: #5 – They Were Wrong, So We Drowned

Into the top half of my list of top ten albums of the last decade with undoubtedly the weirdest one of the bunch.

#5
Liars
They Were Wrong, So We Drowned
[2004]

Liars - They Were Wrong, So We Drowned

Before their second album appeared, Liars were kind of tagged with that “dance-punk” label, along with The Rapture, !!!, Radio 4 and so on. Listening to their first album, They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top, you can see why. The rhythm section had that tight, danceable groove. But there was definitely something a lot stranger and noisier going on.

This was made overwhelmingly clear in that album’s monumental last track ‘This Dust Makes That Mud’. It prowls menacingly for eight minutes, throwing in odd noises along the way. And then it locks into a short loop that repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats for another twenty-two minutes! It’s like an endurance test – the original, hipster Non-Stop Nyan Cat. I remember first listening to that song and – a couple of minutes into the looping part – wondering if I was going mad, or if my portable CD-player (those were the days, eh?) was broken.

There was a similar thing when I had They Were Wrong, So We Drowned playing while some friends and I played poker. The second track, ‘Steam Rose from the Lifeless Cloak’, came on and Ken asked if the CD was skipping. That track, though indeed repetitive, actually has more dynamic stuff going on in its looping. It’s also a much more merciful two minutes and fifty seconds.

In general They Were Wrong… is definitely more of a “difficult” listen than its predecessor. It’s noisier, more abrasive and just a whole lot stranger. And it wasn’t particularly danceable. The key reason for this was the departure of the first album’s bassist and drummer. Out went the locked-groove rhythm section and in came the more primitive, tribal stylings of Julian Gross. This caused a major shift in the sound of the band. Far more emphasis was now placed on texture rather than structure.

This shift was amplified by the band’s decision to make this a so-called “concept album”. The concept, in this case, was witches and witchcraft on the Brocken mountain in Germany. This, in turn, went hand-in-hand with the decision to record the album in the woods of New Jersey. The result was a collection of very earthy, visceral and spooky sounds and lyrics . Many reviews at the time billed it as a kind of musical equivalent to The Blair Witch Project. This association was not inappropriate.

I think all this is exemplified well in the video (directed by singer Angus Andrew’s then-girlfriend, Karen O) for the album’s second single ‘We Fenced Other Gardens with the Bones of Our Own’:

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The notion of the concept album is frequently derided as being a whole load of pretentious bollocks. And often concept albums are. But one good thing about them is that they, almost necessarily, are cohesive pieces of work. The same themes run through the songs and help to tie it all together. And They Were Wrong… does this very well. It almost feels like getting lost in the woods, enveloped by these unknown sounds you’re unsure of whether to trust or not, before stumbling across some group of hooded figures performing a ritual sacrifice around a fire. Or something.

If there’s one song that sticks out slightly, it’s track three, ‘There’s Always Room on the Broom’. It’s probably the closest thing on the album to their earlier work – with more of a bouncier rhythm to it. Perhaps this is why it was chosen as the first single. But it’s still fairly insane. The main riff is gratingly noisy and the lyrics are bizarre. When I first came across it I was pretty baffled. And this was in no way helped by the erratic, epileptic video I was seeing:

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The fact that this was at about two o’clock in the morning and I was watching the television in a completely darkened room in an empty house probably enhanced the confusion. It was crazy, but I absolutely loved it. The main riff sounded so wrong, but worked all the better because of it. And the playful-but-spooky chanting and ooh-ing – utilized through out the album – lodged itself in my head.

Having read about the recording in the woods and the story behind the album in advance, I was very eager to listen to it. And when I finally did, I was not disappointed.

Seeing them live for the first time, in May 2005, while they were touring this album, I was also quite excited. Though I was not entirely sure how they were going to translate the album to the stage. But they did. Brilliantly. That was, up till then, the best live performance I had ever seen. And very very very few gigs have impressed me even nearly as much since.

I think memories of that show probably unfairly influenced my decision to include the album the list. Many would argue that Liars’ follow-up to it, Drum’s Not Dead, is superior. And they’d have a point. Drum’s Not Dead is more fully-realized, more well-rounded and, heck, the individual songs are probably better. But it doesn’t have the boldness, the rawness or the purity of They Were Wrong, So We Drowned. …Which is probably just a real snobby, hipster-y, I-prefer-their-earlier-stuff kind of statement, I know. It’s probably just a bad habit I have – giving more value to the works that break the most ground, rather than the follow-ups that build on them: Fear of Music over Remain in Light, Pi over Requiem for a Dream, etc.

Or, yeah, maybe it’s because of that gig… But still, I don’t think it’s necessarily terrible to give extra credit to an album for what it achieved – on top of how it actually sounds. (I have a feeling I have in a previous post, or will in a future one, almost directly contradict myself on that – making some kind of good-music-is-just-music-that-sounds-good type of statement. Oh well…)

When I saw Liars live for the second time, in August 2010, when they were touring their fifth album, Sisterworld, they peppered their set with songs from Drum’s Not Dead - and even played one from the first album. But the highlight of the show – and the only time it really came close to that May 2005 – was the very last song of the evening, when they played the opening track from They Were Wrong…, ‘Broken Witch’. There really is nothing like ending a gig with the audience screaming “BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!”.

(this video is from a different 2010 performance, but you get the idea…)

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Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009: #6 – White Blood Cells

Number 6 on my top ten albums of the last decade list: the first and best of the two White Stripes albums I got to know.

#6
The White Stripes
White Blood Cells
[2001]

The White Stripes - White Blood Cells

My first encounter with The White Stripes’ music occurred late on a Friday night in early November 2001. It was when this graced my television screen:

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Prior to this I was mildly familiar with them. Not from hearing either of their first two albums, which I hadn’t – and still haven’t. No, at this point I had read a fair bit about them:  their lack of a bass player; about their strict dress code; the exact nature of their mysterious relationship. Each a gimmick to a certain extent, I suppose. But they did the trick: creating an awareness. Not enough of an awareness for me to go out and get any of their music, but enough for me to sit up and pay attention when they came on. Of course, even if I’d been completely unfamiliar with them, I imagine I’d have sat up and paid attention a few seconds into the song. It was raw. It was quick. It was short – all you want from a song, really.

A few months later, the world was treated to this piece of Gondry-shaped Lego-utilizing genius:

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Brilliant. And quicker. And shorter – ‘Fell in Love With a Girl’ is one minute and fifty seconds long. That’s all you really need. Okay, so that’s one of the shortest songs on White Blood Cells, but the longest is still only 3:39. A quick calculation tells me that… the average song-length on the album is two minutes, thirty-one(-and-a-half) seconds. The brevity just added to the “limited” nature of the album. Most of these limitations were self-imposed: “no bass, no blues, no guitar solos, no slide guitar, no cover songs, no other musicians.” [source] The album was recorded in only three days, too. “We tried to rush this as much as possible to make [the sound] really tense. And it seemed to work.” [source] All this did work, ensures a great deal of cohesion in sound and arrangements. At the time, I thought this restrictive approach was really cool. I’d later learn first hand how useful and inspiring it can be as well.

Still though, I hadn’t actually heard the entire album when the ‘Fell in Love With a Girl’ video came out. Nor had I heard it by Friday, 28 June, 2002, when I saw them play at the Rock Werchter Festival in Belgium. Though I was interested in seeing them play, my main motivation for being at that stage at that time was to claim a spot for when Sonic Youth came on. Still, I was suitably impressed by The White Stripes. And, I’m sure, it was at that point, I resolved to go and get the album eventually.

I never did, though, because soon after, my little sister (12 or 13 at the time) ended up getting it! She was also the one who got their fourth album, Elephant, when it came out. So, yeah, I’ve never actually gone and got a White Stripes album by myself.

That never stopped me from enjoying White Blood Cells though. And I enjoyed it – and continue to enjoy it – ferociously. As I said before, none of its songs outstay their welcomes. Right away, each song gets straight to the point, makes its point, then moves aside for the next song to do its thing. That’s not to say the songs are without substance. Just because they’re short, it doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot in them. Take ‘The Union Forever’ – it fits an entire film into it. ‘We’re Going to Be Friends’, though playful and twee, captures the essence of childhood nostalgia. ‘I’m Finding It Harder to Be a Gentleman’ – I’m sure I’ve said it dozens of times on this blog already, but I’m never really too interested in lyrics – but, lyrically, what a song!  Even ‘Little Room’, with its thrashing drums, lack of guitar and wordless warbling, perfectly encapsulates a mental state that affects everyone. The lack of clutter definitely allowed the words more space to work themselves into my brain. And Jack White’s voice made sure they stayed in there.

Best of all was the very first song on the album, ‘Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground’. Which was released as the album’s third single and also got a fantastic Michel Gondry video:

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That little scream of feedback, followed by that growling riff – what a way to kick off an album. But the song balances these heavy elements with sweet lilting verses and lines like “every breath that is in your lungs is a tiny little gift to me”. The song is so good, it seems they decided to use it again on their next album!

Yes.

That next album, the aforementioned Elephant, was good – often great. But it wasn’t as consistently brilliant as White Blood Cells. Their final two albums – like their first two – I never actually listened to.  I have no idea why. I didn’t suddenly turn against the band – and it’s not like they drastically changed what they were about.  I even went to see the Under Great White Northern Lights film in the cinema and thoroughly enjoyed it. We just seemed to part ways. Which is sad, now that they’re gone for good. Perhaps I will get albums five and six now. The thing is, I already know they’re going to be very good. But are they going to be White Blood Cells good? That’s the “problem” (that one every act wishes they had) with releasing incredible albums like this. It invariable becomes this yardstick against which its successors are judged. It, often unfairly, raises expectations. And with a band like The White Stripes, whose M.O. is doesn’t really seem to change a whole lot between albums, differences in quality cannot be shielded by differences in styles and techniques.

But that’s a brave move – one that deserves respect. More respect than I’ve given the band. Yes, I think I’ll give those two a listen too. Perhaps one (or both) might appear on a revised future version of this list. And I should probably give those first two albums a go too.

For now though…

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Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009: #7 – Two Suns

And so we get to number 7 on my top ten albums of the last decade. This time it’s another British female artist of Asian extraction: Natasha Khan – a.k.a. Bat for Lashes. Unlike M.I.A.’s debut, this album – Khan’s second – is quite ethereal and otherworldly, something reflected quite literally in its lyrical content and imagery. Even its title…

#7
Bat for Lashes
Two Suns
[2009]

Bat for Lashes - Two Suns

No matter how many times we learn that appearances and first impressions can be deceiving – often from our own experiences – we still regularly end up judging books by their covers. Perhaps some do it more than others. I don’t know whereabouts in the cover-judging spectrum I’d fall, but I do know it’s what I did when had my first encountered with Ms Khan in March 2009.

Had I not moved to Japan in 2006, chances are I would have come across Bat for Lashes earlier, sometime during the life-cycle of her first album Fur and Gold. It seems the majority of people came to know her through that album’s fourth single ‘What’s a Girl to Do?’ and its stupendously good video. But that slipped me by. A quick Gmail search reveals two separate mentions of her from two friends (Jeremy M. and Mike B.V.) in early 2008, which I obviously did not follow-up on. Had I done so at the time, would I have reacted differently? Who knows.

What was my reaction? Well, as I said, this was in March 2009, just after the video for ‘Daniel’, the first single from Two Suns was released. I saw it mentioned – in a positive light – on some music site. So I decided I’d have a look:

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How long did you last before moving to this sentence? Okay, well, you’re probably already familiar with it. I think I lasted about 30 seconds before I turned it off. I took what now seems like a highly irrational instantaneous dislike to the video and to the artist. Perhaps it wasn’t that irrational, but it was still pretty bad. I didn’t even give her a chance. What turned me off was, well, just about everything you see in that first half-minute: the hoodie with the logo, the slow revealing pan around her, her hair, the way she looked up at the camera. It just felt so… ugh. She instantly struck me as having some kind of gothy vibe – and goth stuff is always going to be fairly pants, right?

You’ll notice that my reaction was all based on the visual. The song had even barely started at that point. Could I really have dismissed it so quickly? Granted, it didn’t do anything to grab my attention – or divert my attention from how stupid it looked. [It's possibly worth mentioning that the video edit of the song and the album version have significantly different intros. The album one is better, but I doubt it would've done much better, either.] So, I was pretty much done with Bat for Lashes. Or so I thought.

I can be unfairly dismissive of something with very little justification. However, this can be counteracted with my susceptibility to the Internet hype-machine. Not that I’m going to instantly love everything the blogs love (not that susceptible), but if everyone is talking about something – and saying good things – I’m bound to give it more attention than I would otherwise. That’s only natural. Thus, the buzz around Two Suns caused me to reconsider my initial snap judgement. Rather than revisit the ‘Daniel’ video, though, I decided to isolate sound from vision and gave the actual album a listen. And the very first track, ‘Glass’, just blew me away:

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It is an absolutely astonishing song. Starting with just her voice singing a biblical verse, the sounds of the city wash up around her and the percussion comes in, distant at first. And as she sings about finding “a thousand crystal towers” and “a hundred emerald cities”, these eerie, glassy sounds pierce the air around her. Then the bass kicks in and the drums pick up. It’s a phenomenal introduction, building and building till the snare drum finally comes, kicking in the chorus as her voice shoots up. Incredible. What’s great is that, although the song has so much power, it’s still very restrained – never over the top, in spite of the fantastical lyrics and the crazy sounds.

I actually didn’t get to the rest of the album for a while, as I went back and re-listened to that first song several times. I eventually played the whole thing through. None of the songs grabbed me quite as completely as ‘Glass’ had. But I could feel it had legs. I was even able to get past the 0:30 mark in ‘Daniel’! But yeah, the album went into heavy rotation for me, straight away. I found my first week with it on my Last.fm stats: looks like this.

I found some of the songs to be slower burners than others. But these often became more rewarding because of it. One track, in particular, took a while to get into, but then became my favourite – and probably still holds that position for me: track six, ‘Siren Song’. There are 11 songs on the record, so this puts it smack bang in the middle.  And it does hold it all together.  The album is very much about duality: it’s called Two Suns; there are songs called ‘Moon and Moon’ and ‘Two Planets’; and Khan inhabits two characters – the dark-haired, natural Natasha and the icy blonde femme fatale, Pearl. The majority of the songs lean towards one or the other of the characters, but ‘Siren Song’ is a direct clash between them:

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The song’s first verse is delicate, mostly just sparse piano notes and solo vocals, “till the siren comes calling” in the chorus part, which becomes more tense, grander, bolder as Pearl’s “blonde curls slice through your heart”. We get a respite with a second verse, which has some sweet harmonizing backing vocals, but is still very fragile. And when Pearl returns, she’s bigger than before. Chaotic drums come in, crashing all around as she explains that “it won’t be long until you’re running… ’cause [she's] evil”. Devastating.

I’m somewhat amused at the fact that I’ve focused on the use of alter-egos and the mythical images and such. This is exactly the kind of stuff I don’t go for. Maybe I really was just brainwashed by all those good reviews. I was just compelled to like it…  Anyway, for a visual representation of this duality at play you can (if you don’t have the album sleeve at hand – Natasha on one side, Pearl on the other), you can check out the video for the second single, ’Pearl’s Dream’:

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The duality concept really does permeate almost every aspect of the album. You could split the songs into Natasha and Pearl songs. But, on a more simple level, there are the slow songs and the more uptempo numbers. It’s hardly a novel idea to have half the songs on an album be fast and the other half not, but the execution here – the sequencing of the tracks and the quality of the songs themselves – is outstanding. Everything is tied together, even though the individual components could – in another context – come across as wildly disparate. Compare ‘Two Planets’ with ‘The Big Sleep’. The former is a tribal almost-rave-like song, while the latter is a haunting elegy, with Khan duetting with Scott Walker. Had they been directly side-by-side, I think the difference would be too jarring. But with ‘Travelling Woman’ positioned perfectly between them, it all comes together. Just like the whole album.

I’ll leave you with the video for the third single/track two, ’Sleep Alone’. Just because I didn’t mention it anywhere above, doesn’t mean I don’t love it, because I do. It’s great. Anyway, till next time…

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