23 January 2005

Classic Albums: Tori Amos - Little Earthquakes

Author: Richard Cosgrove

Tori Amos
Back in 1992, the music world was being overrun by grunge, with Pearl Jam and Nirvana spearheading the Seattle radio invasion, and Madonna was showing us what she had for lunch via her, erm, artistic book subtly called 'Sex'. Boyz II Men were crooning about the "End Of The Road" and Whitney Houston was murdering Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You" and trying to convince us she could act. Who would have thought, then, that from seemingly out of nowhere a fiesty redhead armed with nothing more than a piano and a suitcase full of angst would sweep some of us off our feet and make us fall completely in love with her debut album. (The Tori fans among you will be about to mention Y Kant Tori Read at this point, but in your heart you know that wasn't a true representation of what Myra Ellen Amos was, and is, all about.)

I count myself luckily enough to have accidentally stumbled across Tori Amos just as Little Earthquakes came out, thanks to, of all people, the old Hairy Cornflake himself, Dave Lee Travis who had been sent a promo copy of Winter which he promply fell in love with and played on his show. I distinctly remember hearing it and sitting bolt upright (it was a Sunday morning, following a heavy Saturday night, but all that was forgotten once the hypnotic melody began bleeding from the speakers), thinking "who is this?" and "this is beautiful".

I took myself off to my favourite record shop at the earliest opportunity (Selectadisc in Nottingham, as it happens) and snapped up the album. I rushed home and stuck the CD into my relatively new CD player, which had recently surped my turntable and sounded the death knell for my vinyl collection, and lay back on my bed to listen. From the opening line of 'Crucify' I was hooked - as an insecure teenager, Tori's first line, "every finger in the room is pointing at me", was a line that I could immediately identify with. While confident and outgoing to the rest of the world, I had always fought against an inherent shyness and this one line encompassed the paranoia that I had felt as a teenager. As Tori put it, "nothing I do is good enough for you". Crucify was a hymn to the disenfranchised of the world, to those who had never quite felt they were good enough, all placed on top of a simultaneously fragile and confident piano refrain.

'Girl' follows, its' haunting piano underpinned by some quite breathtaking yet subtle guitar work from Steve Caton (who actually joined Tori live from Boys For Pele onwards), acting as a springboard for a tale of submission and compromise in which we learn "she's been everybody else's girl, maybe someday she'll be her own". Another tale of insecurity in which the subject of the song desperately tries to fit in at the expense of her own identity. Another tune that spoke to my teenage insecurities. Though Tori was a fair way from being a teenager at this point, these songs were obviously sourced from her experiences of youth and the crushing insecurities and disappointments that it brings.

Next up is 'Silent All These Years', the breakthrough track in the UK. A gentle piano refrain underpinned with a subtle strings arrangement, this is a bitter song about a relationship breakup. "So you've found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts" is deftly followed up with "boy, you'd best hope that I bleed real soon". Nasty, very nasty, but then again, you can't deny her rage - Hell hath no fury and all that.

'Precious Things' is next, conjouring up images of playground vendettas and Catholic school angst - "so you can make me come, doesn't make you Jesus". It's a sorry tale of isolation and rejection, neatly summed up in the line "no-one told me, where the pretty girls are". Marginalised, isolated and alone, the teller of this particualr story is not a happy bunny, and not someone you'd want to meet in a dark alleyway.

In complete contrast, the aforementioned 'Winter' is a beautiful, haunting lullaby to the innocence of youth, a child's love song to their father. More than this, though, it's the realisation that we all have to someday break away from the security of our parents - "you must learn to stand up for yourself, 'cause I can't always be around". It's a reflective look back at the advice given many years previously but unheeded until now, as is often the case - "things change, my dear" is not only a sound piece of advice, but also a warning to be ready for life's rollercoaster of highs and lows. The coda of the song, though, "never change", implores our heroine to retain the qualities that make her who she is. In just shy of six minutes, Tori Amos manages to impart more wisdom that you could hope to be privy to in a lifetime. Listen and learn.

'Happy Phantom' brings some light relief, with a jaunty piano refrain accompanied by a smattering of percussion and slide guitar. Tori wonders "will I pay for who I've been", but this is a happy song, extolling the virtues of becoming a phantom and "chasing nuns out in the yard".

If 'Winter' was a tale of caution, 'China' is a tale of regret. This is a tale of two people separated by a great distance, and not necessarily a geographical one. This is that old familiar tale of being with someone who isn't really there. They may be there physically, but their mind is elsewhere, and may as well be in China. This song is the sad realisation that a relationship is drifting away. On the musical front, there is a beautiful and urgent vocal delivery that occurs three minutes into the song that is nothing short of breathtaking.

Leather' is a plea to be accepted, desperately searching for reasons why her paramour isn't interested in what she has to offer. "Look I'm standing naked before you", Tori informs us, before asking "oh God, why am I here?" and asking him to hand over her leather. A tale of opening up to the wrong person that we're all familiar with.

'Mother' is Tori's love letter to nervous first dates and prom nights. Hoping that the date will be wonderful but fearful that it will all up horribly, she sets off with butterflies in her stomach. "He's going to change my name", she hopes, but isn't quite sure and sets of with some trepidation. If this is all beginning to sound like a Cameron Crowe movie, then you're in the right ballpark. Little Earthquakes is all about awkward relationships and self-doubt and works wonderfully for it.

'Tear In Your Hand' is the other side of the fairy tale. "So you don't want to stay together anymore", we're told. Tori tells us that her ex's new love is just "pieces of me that you've never seen", echoing the confusion and bewilderment that accompanies being dumped by the love of your life. I could be everything she is, maybe, but then again, maybe it's time to wave goodbye."

Rarely can a pure acapella be so captivating as 'Me And A Gun', Tori's frank and emotional recollection of her real life rape. As she recounts her thoughts, you can't help but think what a dehumanising experience this must have been. I, thankfully, have no point of reference for this song, either from a personal or vicarious point of view, but I defy you to listen to this track and not come away in a seriously reflective state of mind.

The starkness of 'Me And A Gun' leads us into the title track, a haunting, mesmerising epic which is a metaphor for being on the outside, for being marginalised, for being torn apart by forces outside of our safe little lives. The force of these little earthquakes, Tori tells us against the rhythmic heartbeat of the drums, "doesn't take much to rip us into pieces." The song, and the album, pleads with us to "give me life, give me pain, give me myself again", and provides some emotional release for the journey that we've been on.

Little Earthquakes is possibly the most honest and moving album of the early 90s, perfect for a generation that was feeling increasingly isolated, and who was to soon lose one of its' heroes, Kurt Cobain, whose Smells Like Teen Spirit Tori regularly covered in her live sets. Not an instantly accessible album, but one that if you give it some time will work it's way under your skin and stay there, and you'll be eternally glad that it did.

17 January 2005

Music Feature: Music Media - How Music Is Obtained by Aurliea Wilson

Author: Aurliea Wilson

Remember way back when, the good old 8 track was the thing? It's ok neither do I. I wasn't around. Well, my parents have persuaded my musical taste and they aren't supportive of my new indie obsession. Anyways, there was 8-tracks, tape players, record players and more recently the portable CD player and even more recent the MP3 player, made popular by Apple's iPod.

Using my retro CD player to listen to the songs of many indie rock bands, I've learned to love my CD player, CD's and music much more respectively with the occasional 'oops, I dropped it on the floor again' mishaps. Compact Discs bring much more to the listener than MP3 players do. They bring album art, materialistic being of the songs and the presence of going to the music store to buy them. The downfalls of owning CDs, costly, space taking, CD player breaks and the worst one of all what do you do when the CD is scratched? Some can clean it while others cannot. It all evens out does it not?

The craze for Apple iPods is so...crazy, putting it simply. My major concern is 200 bucks for about 8000 songs I won't use. The are expensive and hold too much and don't serve the purpose they were made for, at least in my experience with those who do own the item. The iPod has become a status symbol. The question is "You have an iPod?" and not "What’s on your iPod?" A lot can be said about the person by their music. The new mini's are ripoffs. Less amount of songs for a more sum of money. What gives?

Many other MP3 players serve just as well as a purpose and yet are cheaper and stylish J the upsides are: all sorts of songs in your palm or pocket, more songs in less space, more portable, no cases to hold CDs. Tempting eh? It is many people have thought of purchasing these players. Mind you, most of these people don't own CD players. Again it's a status symbol that's not going to serve its rightful purpose.

I still love my CD player and will probably use it a lot more than my MP3 player yet, I still like to put it in my pocket and dance around with Franz Ferdinand playing.

06 January 2005

Live Review: The Hidden Cameras at K4, Nürnberg - 12th December 2004

Author: Eve Massacre

The Hidden Cameras
I had been listening to The Hidden Cameras' 'Mississauga Goddamn' album on repeat for the last couple of weeks. I love their 60s pop for the melancholic undertone in all their joyfulness, and of course for their lyrics - who else has ever written so poetically about gay sex and piss games? The seeming plainness and honesty of lines about secret fears (like "hunting hair to find emotional grace / I am scared you'll see my body and know that removing hair has taken over my life") combined with the easy approachable sing-along folk they play makes them irresistible.

I had read about their live shows with costumes and dancers and my expectations were a bit too high: there wasn't as much interaction with the audience as I wished for but it was pure enthusiastic 60s pop fun with simple infectious melodies spiced up by cello, violins, glockenspiel and tambourines, and they are really cute to watch: they have the coolest drummer in ages (10 out of 10 points for posing, lady!), the bald violin player hopped up and down grinning from one ear to another, the only rather static person in the band was the leader: Joel Gibb just stood there in front of them, sang and looked good and was serious while behind him the rest of the band had lots of fun. The 'show' parts with the whole band playing dead or all of them playing one song with eyes covered by a red cloth, well, those parts were a bit restrained but nice nevertheless. Not that I don't like what Joel Gibb is doing - especially as his voice and lyrics are The Hidden Cameras - but I caught myself wondering about what this band could do if it wasn't just one guy writing all the songs but as a real collective throwing their ideas together.

05 January 2005

Album Review: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Self Titled

Author: Aurliea Wilson

Peter Hayes: guitar/bass/keys/harmonica/vocals
Robert Turner: bass/guitar/keys/vocals
Nick Jago: drums/percussion

I give props to anyone who can play guitar and bass - not necessarily at the same time. I'm quite intrigued by that now. The three people who make up BRMC produced an indie rock album in 2001, the dawn of the new rock era.

1. Love Burns: Opens in a bar setting; the acoustic guitars are awesome.

2. Red Eyes and Tears: Cool riff and bass line. The vocals are haunting.

3. Whatever Happened to Our Rock and Roll [punk song]: My favorite off the whole album because its upbeat and some find it 'hardcore'.

4. Awake: it's a physcedelic mix of rock and other indie subgroups. I like the way the refrain is a different tempo than the verses.

5. White Palms: I like how the guitar makes a noise than seems like a drum would make creating a tempo and setting the beat. It sounds like a dark song.

6. As Sure As The Sun: I think this is a cool song title. The bass is highlited in the song yet the guitar kicks in at the right moments.

7. Rifles: The light tapping on the cymbals makes this song eerie. Although contrary to the verses the refrain is lightened up.

8. Too Real: Kind of folk and rock mix of instruments and vocals. In a word: calming

9. Spread Your Love: The bass has a cool lick played throughout the song. Spread Your Love Like A Fever.

10. Head Up High: I can't any other vocals except'Keep Your Head Up High' probably the only thing that needs to be said. A ballad of BRMC.

11. Salvation: The beginning is rather odd but it's a light note, a good note to end an album on.

Basically, ecceletic mix of all sorts of genres are complied into one album. From Pop Rock to Metal Everyone has something to love in this album.

04 January 2005

Live Review: Yeah Yeah Yeahs at London Brixton Academy - 15th November 2004

Author: Becky

Yeah Yeah Yeahs
The audience waited to catch a glimpse of the punk-fuelled Kazza 0 herself, during both the support acts (which were both pretty damn good), hoping to see a flash of aluminous pink, or a sighting of ripped fishnets. But, no, there was nothing, until...

The lady herself walked on, in a two-piece tweed suit! Miss O was followed then by Nick Zinner and Brian Chase, who were both going for the gothic look, all dressed in black, with heavy black make-up (well that was Nick anyway). The music starts, the drums kick in, and the guitar is officallly loving it, as Karen O starts to strip, removing the layers of tight conservative tweed to reveal, the kind of costume which would have blended in well in Wacko Jacko's 'Thriller' video. It's a skeleton body suit, with ribbons and tassles hanging off in all directions. She stomps around in her gem covered converse, pulling up her hood, hiding her paint streaked make-up. Even dressed as a grubby skeleton, she oozes sex appeal.

The tunes are played, the audience have a fantastic 'Date With The Night', while 'Pin' gets the whole crowd toe-tapping to the max, so that you feel like snogging the guy next to you with the 'I Love Karen O' T-shirt on. 'Maps' reveals a vulnerable side to the woman of madness, and the new tracks seem... interesting. We all want more, and as the crowd at the front get drenched with water from the security guards, they give us more.

The Karen O look-a-likes copy the orgasmic sounds, and the guys dribble with love for Miss O. It's a night to remember, a definate date with the night I'll never forget!