Showing posts with label New Order. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Order. Show all posts

Monday, May 10, 2010

September 7, 1980: New Order's First Demos

Giasco Bertoli, Maryon Park (2007)*

Only a few months after Ian Curtis' suicide, even less time after their debut at the Manchester Beach Club, and six days before I was born, New Order recorded these songs (along with three others) at Cabaret Voltaire's Western Works studio.

* Thanks, Mike Chui!

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Waterfront Property (Adam Wilcox)

photo by Richmond Lam


I guess it's a function of my updating this blog during the day that the music I DJ and listen to while going out is so poorly represented here. Consequentially, I think I'm giving short-shrift to fine and talented local musicians (as well as friends) like CFCF, the Night Trackin' kids, William Saman and Heidy Pinet at Movement, and other young Turks who are rescuing house music from fluo-brimmers types (or maybe they've already rescued it and that phrasing dates me) for the benefit of us all.

Case in point, the subject of today's post - Adam Wilcox, the Pride of Pointe Claire, a Leo, and as sociable and clubbable a fellow as one could home to come across, brings one of my favourite new developments in local music in recent months, Waterfront Property. At only 2:20, Vacances Tragique hints at Wilcox's prowess in the studio, his ability to craft a pitch-perfect homage to those strangely compelling New Order album instrumentals. Gaywave is a darker, crispier and brassier gift to genre-naming with swashes of Italo and Lindstrom-esque tempos. Obviously, Wilcox is equally at home plotting for the dance-floor as he is for the very distinct pleasures of home-listening. And finally, with his re-working of It's Too Late, Latin freestyle also-ran Nayobe has never had it as good. And all that from a chance meeting in a dollar bin.

All that said, I'm sure that you'll hear a lot from Waterfront Property in the coming weeks and months, and from sources larger and more reliable than me. Enjoy!

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Age Ain't Nothin' But A Number (& A Potential Felony)

"It's okay, I'm an artist."


It is a truth universally acknowledged, that any musician, in possession of a good fortune, is always in want of a too young wife. Bill Wyman of the Rolling Stones made Mandy Smith his wife at age eighteen after having dated her for five years. (Two years later they were divorced.) At age 23, Jerry Lee Lewis married his 13 year old first cousin, Myra Gale Brown.

It quickly becomes depressing cataloging the actual transgressions made by popular musicians against age taboos in the lifetime of good ol' rock n' roll, so let's discuss the age perversion within the music itself. (We'll leave out the rich vein of schoolgirl felony songs - far too many to list here.)

I don't think that Andre Williams, former pimp, coke dealer and man responsible for the christening of Lil' Stevie Wonder, regrets much in his life. Mostly, he regrets getting caught. And in Jailbait, he issues a stern warning to a chicken-hawking pal to mend his ways. Set to a vamping go-go beat, this is also a world-weary protest against what he sees as the terrible injustice inherent in jailbait cases: the bait goes free while you languish in jail.

In Just 15, Billy Childish takes his below-the-belt approach to romance below the level of acceptable taste by confessing his love for a fifteen year latch-key kid and vowing to fight her father, should the poor working man show up unexpectedly.

I don't know what sort of extremely tasteless behind-the-scenes record industry machinations caused Jerry Lee Lewis and Ringo Starr to duet on an updated version of Sweet Little Sixteen. Similar thinking must have been at work when Ringo recorded and popularized Johnny Burnette's You're Sixteen in 1973. In 1977, teacher Hans Fenger in Langley, British Columbia, had his students record a version for the Langley Schools Music Project. Given that the musicians on this recording were actually 16 or thereabouts, this is possibly the only age-appropriate version of this song ever recorded. Sung by a children's choir, it's either remarkably chaste and cute, or all sorts of wrong. You decide.

Bill Wyman's Seventeen is such a weird droning drum machine dreamscape about a jeans model/actress, that I didn't even want to bother putting it up. Si, Si Je Suis Un Rock Star is faaaaaaaar more interesting as a song: it's got an undeniable bouncy appeal (your parents heard it during their first and last vacation by themselves at Club Med after your birth*), and as a Rolling Stone, you wouldn't expect anything less from him than a confusing soup of self-aware paternalistic post-colonialist sexual imperialism set against a globe-trotting backdrop! Problematic! As the oldest Stone, Bill Wyman was tailor-made for this theme, thus even in this song, the line "They'll think I'm your dad and you're my daugh-ter!"

At their best, the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band are an amusing example of turning oil fortunes into dreamy Californian psychedelic rock through the familiar process of bohemian slumming. At their worst, they are a pricey mistake made by this author when, back in the golden age of compact discs, he decided to shell out far too many clams for some self-indulgent pap re-issue that had Kim Fowley's paw-prints all over it. (Now that's a man who'd have something to say about age perversion and rock music!) Despite the astonishing title, I don't think Eighteen Is Over The Hill is a true age perversion song, as it as a lament for the lost beauty of a golden youth. Or something about narcissists wearing tin-foil hats.

When the the baritone-voiced club king of New Order's acid-house influenced 1988 single Fine Time muses that "You know I've met a lot of cool chicks / But I've never met a girl with all her own teeth" you know that this is not your typical tale of man and girl. It's the same skewered and twisted mixture of longing, humour and weird lyrical puns that makes New Order such a delight, or a bunch of pub-stool jokers in night-clubbing clothes.

Ontario's bearded troubadour Hayden (nee Paul Hayden Desser) goes to the well of age perversion in Bad As They Seem, only to (like New Order) draw from it water that runs deeper and more amusing than your average paean to Lolita. At first pining for a sixteen year old neighbour, Hayden soon turns his gaze to that sixteen year old's mother. Trapped working the same job from age fourteen and living in the same house until forty-three, a perpetual pubescent in Peter Pan purgatory lacking both the joys of childhood and the comforts of adult companionship. Aww...

In the world of popular music and rock n' roll, Steely Dan has always been noted, commended (and scorned) for the general maturity of their sensibility and humour. Admittedly this is a field with little competition. In Hey Nineteen, even the magic combination of expensive tequila and cocaine can't bridge the generation gap between a middle-aged Aretha Franklin fan and his teenage lover.

Of course, it takes Kate Bush to out-creep the rest of these notable perverse musicians with a nanny's tale of an infant kiss from those "lips that speak of adult love" in The Infant Kiss. That mischievous little boy, that predatory preschooler: "a man behind those eyes!"

* Did Dudley Moore ever do a third Arthur film after Arthur 2: On The Rocks? Was it set in the Caribbean? Cause y'know...

"You're so mature for your age."

Many thanks to Sean Michaels at the incomparable and long-standing mp3 blog powerhouse Said the Gramophone for the kind words. Do yourself a favour and keep tabs on his regular missives for the Guardian. And please, people: don't go in for any of that guilt by association stuff. In so far as I know, Mr. Michaels lives and loves within his age.

The images are from the late Eric Rohmer's great film, Claire's Knee.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Something Wild




Jonathan Demme's 1986 film, Something Wild, starring Jeff Daniels, Melanie Griffith and an unhinged Ray Liotta, also features The Feelies covering David Bowie's Fame. The bassist seems to be particularly camera-shy, and the group is called The Willies in the film. Check out those white bucks that Daniels is soft-shoeing it on the dancefloor with! This film's arguably in the same genre as Martin Scorsese's After Hours - yuppie gets more twilight Gothamic adventures than he bargains for when he meets a wild girl. The soundtrack's pretty spectacular - New Order's Temptation, a bunch of Feelies songs, the Fine Young Cannibals covering the Buzzcocks, Laurie Anderson*, David Byrne**, and X, amongst many others.

A couple of years after this film, and after Swimming To Cambodia, doing a New Order music video, and, for the sake of argument, Married to the Mob, Mr. Demme would eventually give himself fully over to the pursuit of cinematic boredom, with such armchair snoozers as Philadelphia, an adaptation of Toni Morrison's Beloved, and other treacle borne out of the unholy union of white liberal guilt and the Oscar pursuit.

Despite the fact that, like a later group also from New Jersey Yo La Tengo, the Feelies are about as nerdy a group that have ever formed a rock group (excepting the unbearable They Might Be Giants and The Decembrists), I've always loved 'em since I picked up The Good Earth in Victoria so many years ago.

* Last year I had a strange afternoon where I thought that Big Science was about the most amazing thing I'd ever heard. The feeling quickly passed and has yet to return.
** Actually, the David Byrne song on the soundtrack is pretty much unbearable, as if David Byrne was mostly moved by a recent Miami Sound Machine performance.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Bad Lieutenants & Air Travel

Bad Lieutenants Keitel, Sumner & Herzog

At a certain point in time, Bernard Sumner turned the corner as a songwriter and started writing the sort of uplifting songs that sound like they'd sync perfectly with time-lapsed images of planes landing, people streaming through night markets, and bold new companies offering us exciting advancements in consumer technology. Maybe it started with Electronic, his collaboration with Johnny Marr - I can't really pinpoint it. Certainly the non plus ultra of the Sumnerian ouevre in this regard is New Order's Jetstream, with breathy stewardess spoken bits and swooshing jet engine sounds. Or could there be nothing beyond? Now we have a new offering - Sink or Swim from his new group Bad Lieutenant's debut Never Cry Another Tear. (That jangly guitar lead sounds a bit like the Brian Jonestown Massacre, no? - Okay, fine, The Byrds).

Bad Lieutenant, is Sumner's most recent post-New Order group (they broke up in 2008). The group also features Stephen Morris & Phil Cunningham (both of New Order) and Alex James (of Blur & BBC shockumentary The Cocaine Dairies). No Peter Hook, but still, hooks. Because Mr. Sumner is English, is the band pronounced "Bad Left-enant?"

Bernard Sumner and Werner Herzog are both riding a real zeitgeist wave here, that is, people caring about the (err) classic(?) film Bad Lieutenant, a consequence of life after Grand Theft Auto, or maybe both of them finding a VHS copy in a Goodwill.

And on that note, thanks to some generous folks at the Playlist blog & the Montreal Mirror, I'll be attending the sneak preview of Mr. Herzog's film Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans tomorrow. I'll report back with details on the status of Nicolas Cage's mental health (hopefully better than his financial) and whether the iguanas are all they've been made out to be.