Judging the book by its cover:
First things first: Peter? That’s certainly going to take some getting used to. The front and back covers of the album are instantly recognisable as the work of Pete Doherty, former Libertine, Babyshambles frontman and “scumbag magnet”. The lyrics booklet is reminiscent of Up The Bracket and Down In Albion as well. Meaning the lyrics can hardly be made out at all. And is it “The Sweet By And By” or just plain “Sweet By And By”? Great to see Graham Coxon’s name all over the credits too. But the big question remains: is it better than the boring Shotter’s Nation, also produced by Stephen Street?
Arcady
Hooray, mentions of seraphic pipes, shepherd’s songs and things Peter can’t mention. All bounces along to a pleasant acoustic bounce that I’ve heard described as Dylanesque, though it reminds me more of Beatles songs like “Two Of Us”. Good song for lying in the grass to. As an opener it’s a little unspectacular though.
Last Of The English Roses
In which Peter remembers the nineties. Mentions of rolling around the playground and a girl who “could charm the bee’s knees off the bees”. Bonus points too for the phrasing of “Frutti Tutti” and “Reeboks” (which reminds me, when is “Hooray For The 21st Century” getting its well-deserved official release?). Funnily enough, this sounds a bit like the kind of song Damon Albarn seems to effortlessly throw into the world, a connection strengthened by the melodica. Good stuff indeed.
1939 Returning
Now this is just spectacular. I love it when Pete’s vocals sound like they’ve been done in one take, slightly unsteady but heartfelt. We go from images of someone being fished out of the rhine, London urchins playing, and those same kids now in homes for the old, their only hobbies staring into the television guide in 2009. Best song I’ve heard all year.
A Little Death Around The Eyes
Starts kind of crappy with opening couplet “Your boyfriend’s name was Dave/I was bold and brave”, but it rapidly transforms into the best Bond song that never was. Dramatic strings, and Graham Coxon’s beautiful guitars are all over this, surely set to make many a Blur fan’s heart leap with joy. Just when you wish the song never ended it segues seemlessly into…
Salomè
Dodgy accent on the “e” aside, everything’s present and correct again. The guitars are a bit Jeff Buckley, and yes there are mentions about dreadful cold, but this is actually a pretty funny song. Salome appears and demands “the head of any bastard on a plate”. This is rapidly turning into a classic album.
I Am The Rain
Added at the last moment apparently. It shows. In no way a bad song, but after the four captivating masterpieces that precede it it’s a teeny bit underwhelming. Plus I can do without songs that mention the sky, whether it’s somewhere to fly or just be up in. Sounds a bit like an acoustic version of a Shotter’s Nation tune really.
The Sweet By And By
Pastiche Pete’s back to bring some light relief to break the mood. And why not? Sounds a bit like The Kinks’ variety tunes. Also there’s the most tossed off vocal take since The Libertines’ Don’t Be Shy and if you’ve heard Down In Albion at all you know that’s quite an achievement. It’s also part of his charm though.
Palace Of Bone
Pete duets with himself! That’s what snakey roads do to young boys. This sounds quite a lot like The La’s, who continue to be an enormous influence apparently. And why not? We’re talking about a band lead by a singer/genius that’s less prolific than Axl Rose. Someone has to give us some Mavers.
Sheepskin Tearaway
In which we are treated to someone “covered in scars and full of heroin” (who could that be?) and the girl that opened her heart to said fellow. Maybe people find Pete’s junkie’s honesty too much to stomach, but they’re wrong. This has a tear tattooed on its cheek, a straw hat with feathers on its head, an acoustic guitar next to/into the fire. It’s warm.
Broken Love Song
Definitely the poppiest song here. It’s a huskily sung quiet-loud-quiet song of sorts with references to John, Paul, George and Ringo, with a chorus that can be described as anthemic. Weird then that despite its stylistic difference to its neighbours it doesn’t really manage to stand out.
New Love Grows On Trees
A song about young love. Like many other song’s here it’s been around on the internet for years, but this is the only one where familiarity hurts it a little. See, it was always a bit of a bore and I was delighted it hadn’t been included on Shotter’s Nation a few years ago. Not even spooky guitars and excellent basswork can lift it beyond its bit of a boredness.
Lady Don’t Fall Backwards
Opium and tea in Chinatown. Sounds good. So does the song. There’s some pretty obvious references to drugs here, and the fact that’s remarkable on is pretty remarkable; Grace/Wastelands is where Pete’s become colourful and powerful again.
End verdict:
After The Blinding (one amazing song on an EP is pretty poor) and Shotter’s Nation I’d begun to feel daft about calling Pete the Albarn for the noughties. But here he shows he’s still got it. In spades, hearts, clovers and diamonds. It doesn’t matter that some old songs needed to be recycled; apart from the material his presence is what makes Grace/Wastelands such a rewarding album, and the year’s best so far.
9/10
Filed under: 2009 releases
Judging the book by its cover:
Doesn’t look too promising. The regular version’s got a multicoloured tick on white background. When I first saw it, it reminded me of two other releases: the Boys’ own Introspective and Coldplay’s wretched X&Y. Then I got my hands on the two disc Yes, Etc. The background is now black, and it looks even more like the tired Coldplay album. The booklet is simple and to the point: eight pages with the lyrics in the same font as the Tennant/Lowe’s Battleship Potemkin soundtrack, and a couple of photographs. I still think it’s a missed opportunity not to let Roger Dean do the design. But what about the music?
Love Etc.
For some reason I can’t listen to this above average Pet Shop Boys single without thinking that it sounds strangely like something Belle & Sebastian would come up with if they had better synths at their disposal. Neil even sounds a bit like Stuart Murdoch here. It’s a bit weird an opener, but full of the same joy last heard on 2003’s “Flamboyant”.
All Over The World
“This is a song”, Neil points out during the chorus just in case you were thinking you were watching a ballet. Or watching paint dry. In any case it’s about as dull. The fact that this might be the second single shows that record companies no longer give a crap about singles. Next!
Beautiful People
Sounds a bit like “The Ballad Of John & Yoko” for about five seconds and then quickly evolves into the kind of mid-tempo AOR song that made Release such a drag. Which makes me wonder. Johnny Marr. Pet Shop Boys. Both proven capable of excellence. So how come when they work together the results are so hit and miss (not sure whether a pun is intended), and maybe even mostly miss. In any case, the direction this album’s taking’s not to my liking.
Did You See Me Coming?
Phew. Much better! This then should be a single. Maybe they could do a remixed version with guest vocals by Lady GaGa and it may even be a hit. A song for those of us that love “I Wouldn’t Normally Do This Kind Of Thing” to death. Which should mean everybody that wouldn’t cut up teddybears, and then some.
Vulnerable
Always great stuff when a song gets to the chorus in about ten seconds, especially when the chorus is quite this strong. In fact, the only thing wrong with “Vulnerable” is that they didn’t just dump the verses and bridge altogether, and let the chorus go on and on for three minutes or more. But as they say, that’s what remixes are for.
More Than A Dream
So, after a good song, two shite ones and two great ones what do we get? Why, an indifferent one. Firstly, what’s up with Neil’s vocals in the verses? Too much autotuning? Or does he sound like this when he’s tired? Some call-and-response pre-chorus stuff that simultaneously sounds rediculous and… erm… rediculous. But again, the chorus is absolutely great. We need more falsetto from Neil. One more thing: I haven’t paid any attention to the lyrics on the album so far. As Oscar Wilde would say, this is a fault. But whose?
Building A Wall
Confusing one, this. With references to the cold war, the cold war ending (”there’s nowhere to defect to anymore”), and, erm, building a wall to keep oneself in. Fair enough. But somehow Neil the construction worker singing “I’m building a wall, a fine wall” conjures up images of him in overalls, tools in his hand, dirt on his trousers. In fact, he sounds like my DIY loving u.n.c.l.e., who gave me tips on how to build a wall not too long ago. Next up, installing a bathtub. The song’s lousy, by the by.
King Of Rome
Everything I’d read about Release before it was released led me to believe it’d be a sequel to Behaviour. It wasn’t. “King Of Rome” on the other hand wouldn’t have sounded out of place on the 1990 masterpiece. It’d have been a highlight too. It’s light and breezy without being throwaway. It’s got Neil’s gorgeous falsetto again. Screw it, it’s the most beautiful ballad they’ve done since “Dreaming Of The Queen” and “Liberation”.
Pandemonium
The song I’d been looking forward to the most ever since the tracklisting was first published. It doesn’t quite live up to the expectations, but it ain’t half bad either. That opening beat certainly made the jellies wobble. The chorus, again, is very strong. But something’s bothering me. The production. It’s a bit lifeless. It’s clinically clean, but there’s no sparkle. In fact, this is true of most of the album, but most of the previous songs were either so strong or so weak that it wasn’t too important a factor. “Pandemonium” has the potential to cause just that, but here it just slightly shifts the furniture to the side.
The Way It Used To Be
Here’s Rome again. The album isn’t quite as obsessed with the city as Morrissey’s Ringleader Of The Tormentors three years ago, but then he did go and lose his virginity there. Yet, two mentions in two songs is certainly remarkable. Which is about all that’s remarkable about “The Way It Used To Be”.
Legacy
The Boys’ attempt at a “Sad Eyes Lady Of The Lowlands” closer? It does go on and on and on, and then when you think the song ends it goes on some more without anything resembling a chorus in sight. Except there’s a French bit in waltz time. When I read the lyrics booklet before hearing the song I thought that would be marvellous. Everything sounds better in French (compare “Le Moribund” with “Seasons In The Sun”), but this is rubbish. As is the rest of the song really, despite the orchestra.
End verdict:
Well, it is a strange one. Sometimes absolutely fantastic, but just as often ghastly. What tips the balance to the right side of good is, oddly, the filler tracks that are uniformly reliable Pet Shop Boys songs. Had this been the follow up to Release I’d have been more positive in my verdict. Alas, coming on the heels (it doesn’t feel like three years!) of the fabulous masterpiece Fundamental, with it’s dark tones and compelling paranoia, Yes can’t help but be slightly slight.
6/10
Blur – The Special Collectors Edition
This goes for pretty much all the compilations in this list, but it’s glaringly obvious here: this record, a Japan only release, could’ve been much better. Look at what’s here: “Maggie May”, “Beard”, “Supa Shoppa” and a version of “Bank Holiday” sung by Japanese fans. Then look at what’s not: “Young & Lovely”, “Explain”, “Bone Bag”, “Beachcoma”, “Into Another”, “Peter Panic”. And yet, unless you have the resources to get your hands on 1999’s excellent boxset this is an essential addition to any Blur collection, even if it only includes b-sides up to 1994. But how prolific the boys were. Even with the above lost classics absent, most of what’s here is amazing, from a live version of “Day Upon Day”, through the gorgeous “Peach” and “When The Cows Come Home” to the theatrical “Theme From An Imaginary Film”. But, what this really proves is that we’re still in need of a definitive b-sides and rarities collection from this foursome, the best band of the nineties.
The Stone Roses – Turns Into Stone
Silvertone, the record company whose disregard for artists drove the famously well-behaved young men that made up The Stone Roses to vandalism, may have milked the band’s catalogue with a fanaticism seen also in whoever’s in charge of Jeff Buckley’s legacy, but with Turns Into Stone they, perhaps accidentally, hit the spot; almost all the band’s best songs that weren’t on their legendary debut are here, from the classic single “Fools Gold” to excellent b-sides such as “Mersey Paradise” and “Where Angels Play”. Of course there’s also room for complaining (why the 12 inch version of “Elephant Stone” when the 7 inch version is much better?), but which compilation is ever perfect? It certainly gets closer to that nobel goal than The Complete Stone Roses, Garage Flower, The Remixes or even the underrated, but uneven, Second Coming.
Morrissey – Bona Drag
No stranger to compilations, El Mozzer. It seems that for every new studio album a new compilation and a half is released. Most of these aren’t really worthwhile if you’re not an obsessed Morrissey fan. Do you really want to spend money on My Early Burglary Years or World Of Morrissey when you could spend the same money on that Bob Dylan album from the seventies you never bothered buying before? Or that new album by some band you’ve never heard of that’s getting a rediculously high metacritic score? The exception is Bona Drag. Yes, it repeats “Everyday Is Like Sunday” and “Suedehead” from the previously released Viva Hate, but it’s also got another twelve excellent a-sides and b-sides that hadn’t been compiled yet at the time (though some of them certainly have been since). “November Spawned A Monster”, “Yes, I Am Blind”, “Interesting Drug” and the fantastic “Disappointed” in which Morrissey vows never to sing a song again only to retract the statement seconds later. Never before had I seen my dad go from pure elation to blind rage so quickly as when I subjected him to this song for the first time. Any music that’s capable of achieving that in normally contained and balanced people deserves attention. Even if that means it gets recycled every now and then. I’ll save my money for New Morning though. And then Self Portrait.
Oasis – The Masterplan
Those first nine Oasis singles were really something. For weeks in advance you’d be looking forward to them, to seeing the artwork, to hearing the b-sides, to playing them over and over again. The a-sides were probably the least important aspect of them. So when the best of the bunch, minus “Round Are Way”, “Alive” and “Step Out”, were compiled in late 1998 the result was hailed as the third best Oasis album up to then. In fact, it was their second best after Definitely Maybe and it still is. Songs like “Fade Away”, “Acquiesce”, “Half The World Away” and the title-track have become as legendary as hits like “Live Forever” and “Wonderwall”, and benefit from not having been played to death, while “Underneath The Sky” and “Listen Up” (the latter in a slightly editted version that I can’t get fully used to) may be even better than that quartet. Even the two Be Here Now era cuts cut it completely. A sequel would be much appreciated.
Gorillaz – D-Sides
Damon Albarn isn’t a stranger to relegating amazing songs to the periphery of his discography, and that makes for good collecting. G-Sides, 2002’s companion piece to the first Gorillaz album, was nothing too spectacular, but by the time noughties were halfway the man was on fire, and one album, Demon Days to be precise, was never going to be able to contain all the brilliance being created. So we got D-Sides, a bit of a mixed bag of a double album. The second disc has a bunch of remixes, some good, some bad, and some queen. The first disc is the one for which to stay at home however. Yes, there’s some obvious b-sides, but it’s also got the gorgeous “Stop The Dams”, the hilarious “Rock It” that’s bla bla bla bla bla bla, and, reason enought to buy this collection at all, a new (and slightly inferior) version of the previously released for charity only “Hong Kong”, which is the most beautiful song Damon’s ever written, and that’s saying something.
Bloc Party – Intimacy
There’s something immensely sweet about giving up on a band that at one point meant a lot to you, and then being proven wrong with all the delicacy of a hysterical woman slapping you in the face. This doesn’t happen a lot; sure, great bands lose it all the time, a fairly large percentage of those succeed in some damage control by “returning to their roots”, some never recover, but very few of them just continue down what seemed like a dead end street, only to pulverise each and every surrounding obstacles to leave a wide open space of possibilities. But this is just what Bloc Party did. Their debut album, Silent Alarm, was a beautiful and exciting record not a million miles in feel from Suede’s debut. However, instead of following it with a Dog Man Star they went straight to producing the noughties equivalent of Head Music: sophomore effort A Weekend In The City was a dull and empty experience with no soul that even the excellent singles “Hunting For Witches” and “The Prayer” could save. It was followed by a single “Flux” which was catchy enough, but hardly on a level with “Banquet”. Then, halfway through 2008, the first single from Intimacy was released. It was called “Mercury” and sounded dreadful. Things looked bad.
So picture my surprise on my first listen to the actual album. Opening track “Ares” shook me wide awake. It was followed by the already mentioned “Mercury” which, even though the album had only just started, made perfect sense all of a sudden, and “Halo” delivered the final punch; this band is on fire! And yet, the slower songs the ones that make the biggest impression, which is no small achievement considering the strength of the loud ones. “Biko” (nothing to do with Peter Gabriel) is probably the most touching song Bloc Party have written so far, “Signs” is unbelievably beautiful with its chimes and bells, and “Ion Square” the perfect closing to a masterpiece. Ironically, the only moment of annoyance occurs during this song: the finale should come from the speakers with a bang of bombast, but since the rest of the song has already been mixed quite loud it comes with the crackle of static. Yet another victim of the loudness wars. Still, as everybody seems to have their albums mixed by deaf people it’s a little unfair to hold this against Bloc Party. Especially when they’re making music this monumental.
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!
It was a good year for Nick Cave; unlike some he turned 50 as complete an artist as ever before, equally dignified and undignified, sporting an award winning moustache, and back with an album in such rude health it could knock out most of its (much younger) competition in the first round. Funny, frightening, colourful and gorgeous, it has it all. It can be cried to (the beautiful “Jesus Of The Moon”) or it can be danced to (”Midnight Man”). It can speak like a poet (as on my favourite opening line of 2008 in “When I came up from out of the meat-locker the city was gone”), but not without occasionally giving in to Tourettical torrents and tantrums (”I feel like a vacuum cleaner! A complete sucker! It’s fucked up and he is a fucker!”). In short, this is exactly the kind of proof that defenders of the album as a format need to negate claims that “the album is dead”. Not so much a collection of songs, but a trip through a wide and varied landscape inhibited by authors and authors’ creations.
The Last Shadow Puppets – The Age Of The Understatement
Folks will have been aware of Alex Turner’s gift for writing memorable songs, but even to those that own every Arctic Monkeys b-side and recognised some crooning potential in such Favourite Worst Nightmare highlights as “Only Ones Who Know” and “505″ the exceptionally crafted The Age Of The Understatement will have come as a surprise. Instead of looking at the likes of The Libertines for inspiration this goes way back to the early years of The Beatles (before they discovered stereo) and Scott Walker’s solo career (before he discovered slapping pigs’ carcasses). Indeed, this whole album sounds like it’s from another time, but the songs are brought with such a sparkle it only could’ve been made by the very young. At the end of the short and sweet ride, including the best single of 2008 in “Standing Next To Me” and the absolutely gorgeous “Meeting Place”, you’re left wishing that they make another one of these albums quick, even if that means taking a break from Arctic Monkeys, a sentiment rarely associated with the treacherous pastime called the side project.
