March 17, 2013

Bloody shame

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Apparently that’s what My Bloody Valentine was counting on.

After 22 years of insoluble silence, the shoegaze pioneers grabbed worldwide headlines in February when they unexpectedly released their third studio album, mbv. Jilted exes welcomed back Kevin Shields and Bilinda Butcher with open arms, a bygone infatuation suddenly renewed.

The predictable schmooze-fest quickly ensued, rivaling any rom-com ever conjured by Hollywood:

“My Blood Valentine have released a tremendous record with MBV, one that is a natural progression from Loveless.”

“MBV is a worthy successor to Loveless, and a masterpiece in its own right.” 

Just a small sample of the fools rushing in. The stampede to the rose-petaled mattress was so hellacious that nobody bothered to turn on the boudoir lights and expose mbv‘s luridly disfigured physique.

Loveless was nothing of the sort. It exhibited an intense, internal passion and enticed hopeless music romantics to forsake rigid notions and embrace what commitment to true creativity could birth. mbv is Shields’ bastard child, resembling its sibling only in their flangey, distortioned DNA. None of the songs receive enough TLC to induce the stomach butterflies hatched by the elder’s fertile womb. 

Given the bevy of underdeveloped extremities, Lifeless would be a more applicable title. “in another way” flexes big muscles that atrophy outside the verses. The fresh air Shields pumps through “nothing is” never gets properly circulated. “is this and yes”, “only tomorrow”, and “wonder 2” serve no functional purpose. These organs waste away, further starving an anorexic body lacking vital nutrients. “if i am” and “new you” suffer from tempo dehydration and require heavier effects enzymes to be fully digestible. “she found now” and “who sees you” supply a faint pulse, injecting potent sustenance into the record’s otherwise anemic bloodstream.

I’m probably the only one not falling head over heels for mbv, but that’s fine. In this case, it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.


June 25, 2010

Pool feeds

An addendum to May’s post on Abandoned Pools. Tommy Walter talks about the recording process and his reasons for reviving the band in this June 14 interview:

Interesting to note that Walter says, “I would rather put my worldview forward than supporting someone else’s.” Could this be a cryptic signal of a permanent departure from Glacier Hiking? (The status line on the Myspace page currently reads, “Stay tuned … we’s about to make a change.”) And if that is the change, what would it mean for their album already in production? They’re scheduled to play the Roxy Theatre on Tuesday, so perhaps they’ll provide details at the show.

Speaking of shows, Walter and crew took to the stage again last Wednesday at the Viper Room. bandcrab, which chatted up Walter for a few minutes after the set, reports he threw a few new songs into the mix along with some favorites from Humanistic and Armed to the Teeth, including “Rabble”:


October 10, 2009

The Most Serene Republic … of Motown?

Quick: What do Sergei Rachmaninoff and Diana Ross have in common? The Most Serene Republic think the two are musical equals worthy of the same pedestal, so much so that these critically-acclaimed artists from Toronto spend the entirety of their latest album, … And the Ever Expanding Universe, trying to convince the listener of such an absurd corollary. They don’t come close to successfully defending the assertion; instead, they provide yet another example of artistic hubris – or, more accurately, laziness.

Allow me to backtrack for the uninitiated. TMSR (who derive their name from the Most Serene Republic of Venice) first caught my attention last year with Phages, an experimental EP of sorts that preceded what, in my view, was one of the best releases of the decade: 2007’s Population, a veritable indie rock opera which Rachmaninoff himself would’ve been proud to inspire. And according to TMSR’s Ryan Lenssen, he actually did:

“If you go back to people like Rachmaninoff, and Schoenberg, and Shostakovich, and Prokofiev, those guys all knew how to create a mood and intensity, and I don’t think it’s really something that you can get from a lot of modern music. So it’s necessary to go back and search through history for arguably the most talented and most genius musicians of all time.”

How TMSR decided on Ms. Ross as their next line of historical demarcation is puzzling – especially in light of Population‘s brilliance. The impetus may lie with the always ambiguous internal band turmoil.

The National Post reported that TMSR nearly broke up after returning from extensive touring in 2008 (the departure of prolific drummer Tony Nesbitt-Larking – supposedly of his own volition – was ominous), with Lenssen fearing, “if things didn’t change, it felt like we’d end up on fire or else laid out on the side of some ditch.” (That scenario would have been literal irony for vocalist Emma Ditchburn.) They eventually ended up in the studio with producer Dave Newfeld, who prodded them to make a more “soulful” record.

I don’t much mind TMSR or anyone else exploring new territory. The danger, of course, is the potential compromising of identity. But TMSR have gone a good bit further. They’ve not only compromised it for the sake of “change”; they’ve completely disowned it:

“… there was, however, a conscious effort by the band to make some kind of musical departure—a direction that, on paper any way, seems implausible for the Most Serene Republic.

‘I said I want a record that sounds like the Association,’ Lenssen reveals. ‘I want it to sound like Motown, like Diana Ross and the Supremes, because indie-rock is done; that sound was pretty much 2002-2005.'”

This kind of indolence under the guise of experimentation is as irrational as it is repugnant, and would have Rachmaninoff spinning in his grave. It also roundly contradicts what Lenssen previously espoused:

“If you’re in Cologne, and you see that big cathedral in Cologne that took 300 years to build, you couldn’t get them to do that for money. You need God. Or you need something — you need something that’s bigger to get people to spend their entire lives working on this project and die for this enormous, almost grotesque kind of piece of architecture. And that takes a real focus and a real dedication. Not a sacrifice, but a full want and longing to create something that’s much larger than you are. And I think that’s what this band is for us.”

I lament Lenssen’s about-face from this geniune sentiment. TMSR is the personification of indie rock, a timeless genre (like Rachmaninoff’s) with virtually limitless possibilities. Duplicating their previous masterpiece would have required a “focus and dedication” clearly absent from … And the Ever Expanding Universe. As far as I can tell, TMSR’s universe is now an alternate one.

(Clips from interview by MolesClub)

UPDATE: TMSR’s Adrian Jewett admits the band was “nearly not as hard on ourselves and each other as we were before” during the making of … And the Ever Expanding Universe, confirming an apathetic approach. And if that makes some of their fans unhappy, Lenssen’s response is, in essence, a most serene “f**k you.”


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