…it looks like it’s finally a reality that The Cure will drop their newest album, Songs of a Lost World, on 1 November, and the teaser single “Alone” should drop…today?
I’m writing this post a few days ahead of time (on the 24th, due to a busy Day Job schedule) so there might actually be a full video by the time this entry pops up, but for now here’s the YouTube Short that’s been doing the internet rounds the last couple of days!
If anything, I’m purposely not expecting the new album to be Disintegration levels of perfection. After all, they haven’t had any new albums out since 2008’s 4:13 Dream (not including the new remixes of Torn Down: Mixed Up Extras 2018). However, they’ve been touring off and on in the interim, and they’ve been playing many of these new songs live during the recent shows.
Still, I’m looking forward to the album. Whether it’ll be the ‘doom and gloom’ album Robert Smith has been hinting at or a mix of the two separate albums that were supposedly complete (he’s also hinted that the other album is poppier), who knows? But I’m sure I’ll love it!
[EDIT: Yep, looks like the full version of “Alone” dropped this morning!]
…it’s been far too long since I’ve sat down and let myself get lost in this stuff. I mean, considering I’ve been working on reviving the Walk in Silence book, I think it’s fair to say that a lot of these albums were a huge influence on my high school years, and would fit nicely with the current iteration of this project.
I always call this era of the label’s output autumnal, because a lot of it, at least for me, evokes the feeling of an impending change of seasons near the end of the year. The air growing colder, the sounds of nature growing quieter, the sky greyer. Many of these albums — most of which I had on cassette and played incessantly at night as I went to sleep — might not always invoke a darkness, but more of a sense of desolation and breakdown, and even abandonment at times. You can hear the dust being kicked up as you walk through the wide emptiness of this music.
That, now that I understand music a lot more, was the key to 4AD’s signature sound then. A clever mix of heavy reverberation with sparse instrumentation gives it that same sound that Cowboy Junkies achieved with The Trinity Session when they recorded inside an empty church. Listening to these albums with my Walkman, volume set high and bedroom darkened, I entered another world, sometimes an escape but often times a safe place. I could let my mind and creativity get lost within the music, letting it take me on a metaphysical trip somewhere.
The collection Lonely Is an Eyesore is a great place to start. I listened to this one just a few days ago. Several of its accompanying grainy 8mm and 16mm videos were shown on MTV’s 120 Minutes, which in turn inspired me later on during my college years for my film production classes.
This Mortal Coil was a huge favorite of mine, especially after hearing a few tracks from their second album Filigree & Shadow on college radio in late 1986. That particular album was one of my top favorites in 1987-88 and inspired a lot of story ideas.
Dead Can Dance was a band I’d heard of in passing but it was 1987’s Within the Realm of a Dying Sun that became my all-time favorite of theirs. Not quite chamber music, not quite alternative rock, not quite current orchestral music, this album wasn’t just one that I’d lose myself in at night, it helped me find a Zen calm right when I was at my most anxious.
Cocteau Twins was of course a major influence on my bass playing, thanks to the Blue Bell Knoll album. By late 1988 I had a good portion of their discography on cassette (and a few on vinyl) and I was constantly listening to it. The twin 1985 EPs, Tiny Dynamine and Echoes in a Shallow Bay, remain in heavy rotation after all these years alongside their project with Harold Budd, The Moon and the Melodies.
And of course, let’s not forget the surprise hit by MARRS, a one-off project between 4AD label mates Colourbox and AR Kane. While this one goes against the grain of the typical autumnal sound of the label, it’s so damn catchy and inventive that you can’t help but love it.
Did a lot of catching up this week of things I let slide last week…and alas, I ran out of time to write a post here for Thursday! Not worried, though. Some days are like that.
In the meantime, the new (and very long-awaited) non-soundtrack album by The The is an interestingly somber affair; it feels like Matt Johnson chose the theme of coming to terms with mortality for this. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, but I’m definitely loving it.
I’m currently reading Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair’s The McCartney Legacy: Volume 1, 1969-1973 (and yes, I am planning on reading Volume 2, 1974-1980 when it comes out at the end of this year) and though it’s quite a long and heavy tome, it’s a rather easy read. Their aim was to write something similar to Mark Lewisohn’s Tune In. We fans may have heard the stories hundreds of times, but the unfolding of these historical moments is in an as it happens sort of way; we may know they’re coming, but they’re never revealed in an ‘and then This Famous Moment Happened!’ way.
I’m actually learning a lot in this book. There are moments I knew about, of course — the dissolution of The Beatles, McCartney’s severe dislike and distrust of Allen Klein, the snide back and forth between Paul and John, often via letters in music magazines, and so on — but I never really knew too much about the details of the post-Beatles lawsuits, why they’d happened and why Paul was so damned determined not to give up. Musically we see a lot of flailing, a lot of separate tracks glued together Abbey Road medley-style, and songs written for one project that end up elsewhere.
Paul is often seen as the most successful of the four ex-Beatles — or at least the most visible, given his penchant for rarely ever not working on music — but with this book, you really get a sense of how much desperate flailing went on during those early years. His first four albums may have been sellers but were not well liked by the critics at all. They were expecting More Flawless Beatle Magic, and he absolutely refused to go that route. A lot of the early Wings music is indeed meandering and homey. While that wasn’t what the critics wanted, it was what Paul needed at that point. It wouldn’t be until he lost two members of the original first lineup that he’d hit paydirt with Band On the Run and find his own solo style.
Every now and again I think about this EP, and how it’s affected me over the years. It’s Mark Pritchard of Global Communication and Kirsty Hawkshaw (formerly of Opus III, you know her from two covers: Jane’s “It’s a Fine Day” King Crimson’s “I Talk to the Wind“). I first discovered them on a quirky seasonal compilation called Invocation — the same album that introduced me to Jocelyn Pook. I listened to that album constantly during the final months of 1997 and into 1998, using it as a soundtrack to my writing at the time.
The song itself (Part 1 lasts a bit over eleven minutes, and Part 2 a bit over eight) is what I imagined as the best example of ambient electronic music: there was melody, but there was also mood and atmosphere. It was like the culmination of everything I loved about 4AD bands like Cocteau Twins and Dead Can Dance. It also felt widescreen in my mind. Cinematic in its own way, telling a story with its weavings of highs, lows, bursts and quietness. There was something about it that somehow hit me viscerally, and it felt almost like…a spiritual leaving.
I used that feeling some years later when I wrote a pivotal scene in The Balance of Light with the final moments between Denni and Saisshalé.
This track was actually what got me into Global Communication soon after, picking up both their brilliant 76:14 (highly recommended) and their album of Chapterhouse remixes, Pentamerous Metamorphosis, both of which had recently been reissued in the US. Those two albums, along with Invocation, became some of my favorite go-to albums when writing the Bridgetown Trilogy, especially when I needed something deeply atmospheric.
Today I’m thinking it’s time for me to get my brain back on track in terms of what day of the week it is.
Part of the issue is my Day Job schedule. The schedule itself is not the problem per se, it’s that it’s allowed me to lose track of my sense of time. I rarely work Sundays but I’ll often have a midweek day off, so the work week will be Monday-Tuesday-Thursday-Friday-Saturday with some of the hours varying, just for example.
There were also other personal reasons why I let a lot of that fall by the wayside, and I allowed it on purpose: when you’ve got IRL things going on, sometimes it’s best not to adhere to a strict schedule and just take it day by day. Which is what I’ve been doing for a while now.
Thing is, I’ve been doing that for a little longer than necessary. [And yes, it’s included hitting all the new music releases on Friday, which is why I’m posting it here. One byproduct of passively letting the days go by is that I lose focus on the new music I’ve been enjoying. And I’ve already blogged about that.]
So what to do about it?
One thing I need to do is follow my whiteboard schedule more often. Right now it’s more of a suggestion than an assignment board, and that’s by design, but I feel like I’m ready to take on those assignments again. And these are simple enough: daily words at 750words.com, update one of the blogs, and get some considerable work done on my main project (which at this time is Theadia). I’m not asking for much. I’m just looking to get moving again.
What will come of this? Who knows? They’re not Best Laid Plans heading straight for a crash and burn. It’s simply a tighter and more regular regimen, that’s all. And hopefully that will help me remember what day of the goldang week it is again!
Walk In Silence 