Album Review: Massive Attack - Blue Lines (1991)

Can you make music for the mind without discriminating against a body that longs to dance? Can you mix reggae, soul, dub, hip-hop and electronica together without starting a huge fight? And, can you create an album that is so innovative and so divergent that it can still be considered 'fresh' today, two decades after its release, while many listeners plainly call it a 'Classic'? Sure you can – especially if you go by the name of Massive Attack.

Massive Attack, from Bristol in the UK, are popularly known for their enchanting, yet mournfully unsettled hit named 'Teardrop', which came off their third album Mezzanine, in 1998 (it's the theme-song from House– you have to know it!). Blue Lines was their debut album, released back in 1991. Unlike 'Teardrop', Blue Lines didn't gain widespread popularity instantly - it took a few years instead (note that nothing on TV really had a soundtrack like House does back then...). 

While the Brit's and international critics who were 'in-the-know' immediately celebrated the release, international listeners were yet to make space for anything so progressive – they'd have to get over their fixation upon the conventional tracks of rock and pop stars, like Bruce Springsteen and Madonna, first.

So, what really caused the mainstream attention deficit? Well, beginning with rudimentary matters, Massive Attack initially lacked celebrity “Headline” potential. As a collaborative venture, many of the tracks on Blue Lines featured guest performers, including vocalists Horace Andy and Shara Nelson as well as Tricky Kid rapping, who weren't (yet) internationally renowned nor central to the work as a whole. In effect, widespread reception might have been muffled by the fact that there was no particular 'persona' to follow. But, what if I were to tell you that this sense of 'anonymity' actually contributes to the overall atmosphere and appeal of this album, just as much?

Putting aside the issue of unfamiliar personalities, Blue Lines could also be thought of as a rather challenging listening experience because of its eclectic soundscape. The album turned out to be a landmark experiment in genre-mixing and sound-layering, eventually becoming renowned for inventing the 'trip-hop' genre: a smooth and ambient mix of hip-hop and electronica.
But, being debut experimenters, Massive Attack actually took the genre-mix a little further than the definition specifies: bridging soul and hip-hop together, with the help of a little bit of reggae, dub and a whole lot of electronica. 

In essence, this album is loaded with bits of cool, calm and collected pieces of sound that have been manipulated into a brooding urban tapestry. So, aside from the soulful vocals and rapping, there are samples of orchestral strings, keyboards, other miscellaneous electronic sounds, a variety of percussive instruments, including triangles, cow-bells, cymbals and shakers, some general chatter and even whales (well, I could hear whales!). These diverse sounds are layered to create some very chilled, flowing and sophisticated beats. There's a rather dizzying array of stuff to tune into, but it turns out to be more calming than overwhelming because its all pretty slow – quite a relaxing audio feast!

So, why didn't the smooth genre-mixing attract international and mainstream ears instantly? What else hampered the attack? I put it down to all the chilled tempos and the complex and fragmented structure of the tracks and album in its entirety. Though, like the sense of 'anonymity' mentioned above, these things also add appeal for those with curious (or really relaxed) ears, making this an album an outlet for the mind, as much as it is for the ears and feet.

You're likely to feel like you're tuning into fragmented streams of consciousness if you listen to the tracks in order (or out of order!): there aren't really any plots or direct messages in the lyrics, only bits and pieces of organically assembled utterances and sounds. It often takes some effortful attention to draw out the structure and meaning of a track and to become familiar with the verses and chorus – if they're even there? (I really feel like I'm about to use the word 'postmodern' here...).

What I'm trying to say is, some of the tracks aren't that compelling in terms of popular music structuring – the lyrics are quite poetic and thought-provoking but the messages can be hard to find and most of the tracks aren't that 'catchy'. The lyrical content is often sparse and, at times, incomprehensible because there is so much else calling to be tuned into at the same time, but – the lyrics are there if you listen hard enough. There's actually a rather cynical social critique about the lack of individual control within the harsh realities of modern society flowing throughout, e.g. "It's a concrete jungle – evil in the town" or "The freak-show...I can't do nothing about".

Well, that's just another catch. One of the best things about this album is that it's full of atmosphere and subtle nuances into which you don't need to engage completely to understand, but each listen provides further insight. It's music that doesn't really interfere with whatever else you're up to or get stuck in your head for hours after listening. The layering of styles, instruments and voices simply frees your mind and inspires your curiosity.

For me, the singles, 'Daydreaming', 'Be Thankful For What You've Got', 'Safe From Harm' and the hit (and 'punny' answer to Franz Schubert's 'Unfinished Symphony'), 'Unfinished Sympathy', are the standout tracks. But, I'd also include the environmentalist anthem 'Hymn of the Big Wheel' (with its whale sound-effects and indigenous drones) and the title track 'Blue Lines' (with its 'department-store' music vibe) because they are both so unique and interesting to listen to.

Blue Lines is an album that you can dance to, think to and which offers up something new, with a very liberal “take what you will” attitude, every time you listen to it. 

Performance Review: Angus Stone - "Yellow Brick Road" (Cafe' de la Danse, May 8, 2010)

Picture this: getting stoned in France. Sounds 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' – if you're into that sort of thing. For me, it's really only a figurative thought. A fitting but figurative thought that I have while watching Angus Stone perform “Yellow Brick Road” – a sobering ballad off his latest album Down The Way, at au Cafe' de la Danse in Paris. It's an authentic performance of a simple, yet niftily subversive work that carries a good whiff of substance: a pot full of natural talent laced with cliches and drug references. You're bound to be affected.

"Just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.

Sweet Mary-Jane - won't you lay me down?"

Snobs might take comfort in shutting their eyes – stage conventions will be thwarted. Angus, a disheveled bloke better known as the brother-half of Australia's most organic sibling duo, Angus & Julia Stone, looks rather emblematic tonight. (I wonder if he is trying to channel a Koala or a wasted Bee Gee?) His curiously mild and introverted stage presence is a, possibly accidental, work of subversion itself - you're drawn in because you can tell he's willing to share something personal, though he doesn't seem to be seeking your attention at all...

He looks underprepared, but he's already started. You could easily accuse him of failing to 'engage' with the audience... I catch him smiling to himself, though it's hard to make out his face because he's so unshaven. He's careless enough to turn his back to us completely (more than once) later on. Right now, he's rather immersed in his guitar strings and his own little world of words, only just aware of the other band members around him. His sister Julia, who usually appears to be quite affected by the experience of being on stage, sits casually in the background. She sips on a glass of water a few bars in, still preparing to convulse over her piano keys. I hope she'll survive the whole ordeal that might unfold without falling off her chair or injuring herself - she could easily have hysteria...

"Lost my heart in California, lost my mind.

Shot me down with a revolver, got me high" 

The performance that unfolds is minimalistic and markedly effortless. It's simple: Angus plucks the same strings over and over, without a pinch of effort and whispers all the right words at all the right times. Julia cautiously throws in some harmonies and appropriate chords, trying not to steal the limelight. Still, you're never sure of what will happen next: will Angus fall asleep soon? Will Julia stay on her chair? Might one of the pair attempt to crowd-surf? The addition of a drum-kit and electric guitar in the second verse make it all seem a little more legitimate, while increasing in intensity: the audience react excitedly - they're totally plugged in.

Stage conventions aside, this quiet trip to 'dreary-land' is totally transporting, especially if you close your eyes. The journey is brought together by perfect timing and a seamless development of intensity. A brilliant guitar solo and imaginative subversions of familiar images like “a spoonful of sugar”, the “yellow brick road” and anything that lies over a rainbow, also play a part. Altogether, Angus' performance is captivating, uplifting, delicate and fresh. He serves up a quietly disenchanted lullaby that doesn't put you to sleep. It simply entrances you, leaving you spellbound instead.

*I wasn't actually in Paris, just watched the video on Youtube :P 

Forgive me, I don't read...

Album Review: No Doubt - Tragic Kingdom (1995)

Well, “Excuse Me Mr.”, I'm dealing with some doubt: Should I call this Ska or is it Pop? Is it Punk or is it Rock? Maybe Reggae falls closer to the mark? I don't know - I guess we'll just have to call it unique...

Released more than a decade and a half ago, No Doubt's third studio album and big-break, Tragic Kingdom, still evades specificity when answering for it's musical genre. The sounding of some nationality of horn alongside an assumedly Jamaican drum hardly answers our question, as they only embellish the mostly electronic accompaniment provided for Gwen Stefani's breathy, angst-driven girl vocals. Spunky guitar solos, punching drum lines, circus and game-show sound-effects along with funky disco beats, only thicken the web of confusion involving the question of genre but, do help to provide a taste of No Doubt's eclectic soundscape that is built upon in later albums.

Unlike the soundscape, the themes are pretty consistent throughout. It's a fourteen-part series of pretty 'boppily' presented complaints about the modern world and the people living in it: annoying personalities, stereotypes and the emotional tragedies that result from them. We're hearing all about denial, bad memories, paranoia, incompatibility, bad habits... Oh, and did I mention losers and leeches? 

Feminism works undercover here. This album is all about a girl's place in the modern world, her feelings about the breakdown of relationships and the discontent and self-loathing suffered at the frailty of others, mainly men. It's cynical and it's honest but it's cheeky, not depressing. Humour is what makes the messages so accessible. Take the lyrics of “Spiderwebs”: “And it's all your fault – I screen my phone calls” or “Sunday Morning”: “Sappy, pathetic little me – that was the girl I used to be”; the blame is passed along and this girl (Gwen specifically, or whoever, more generally) is standing up to the world. It's all about defiance and female fragility barely appears at all...(“Don't Speak”, with phrases like “Don't tell me 'cause it hurts”, is a poignant exception to this 'defiance' rule, so becoming one of the - in my opinion - most decent karaoke anthems available throughout the globe. It is - again, in my opinion - worthy of being renamed “Gwen's Lament”...)

Now for my general opinion: the hits are magic but the misses are tragic (though not bad enough to stop the album from going Double-Platinum in August 1996). I really enjoy the emotional honesty in the lyrics and their delivery. Gwen manages to make everything sound so conversational, even though she is singing...or yelling...or whining (most of which remains pleasant). But, laments do have their limits. I have to admit that I liken the sounds in the 'tragedies', namely “Different People” and “The Climb”, to those of somebody who is having a meltdown in the kitchen while attempting to wash the dishes. Too much moaning, screeching, bellowing and general dissonance. Those tracks are rather draining, if not almost unbearable to listen to without having the thought of throwing a dish or two back in return...

Anthems like “Just A Girl” (a song about gender stereotypes, later used in the chick-flick Clueless and, which may have - in my opinion - motivated Avril Lavigne's music career, possibly by making her jealous...), “ Spiderwebs”, “Excuse Me Mr.”, “Don't Speak” and “Sunday Morning” are agelessly chant-worthy. They wake you up, make you move and remain palatable for a fair while on repeat – that's the magic of No Doubt.