"We'll tak a right guid-willie waught"

Happy New Year from all of us at DIJ! Whether yr ringing in the new year with scotch like me, or just want some bile in yr new year cheer, here's the Real McKenzies taking up the Scotch Bard.

The Real McKenzies, "Auld Lang Syne"

Bruce's Best of 2008: Top Ten Records (and then some)

'sblood! I've actually cobbled my list together before the clock strikes 12 this year. Some minor business to take care of before we get to the main event:

-Notable EPs of '08: Ashbury Heights' "Morningstar In A Black Car" and Rudimentary Peni's "No More Pain."

-Two records I missed upon their release in '07 but which absolutely dominated my playlists in '08: the far-out-and-gone heroin buzz of A Place To Bury Strangers' self-titled disc, and the heavenly sugar rush of Asobi Seksu's dreamy "Citrus".

-Apologies to Sparks, Poni Hoax, Billy Bragg and Motörhead, who released material which I wanted to get to this year but for reasons of time, money, or sheer unavailability was unable to.

√2. Guns N' Roses, "Chinese Democracy"
There's no way to speak about this album and attempt to compare it to any other that was released this year, and it sure as hell can't be ordered into something as flippantly hierarchical as a Top Ten list. In lieu of any attempt at a proper summation, I'll just say that my expectations (which had fallen into the uncanny valley as the probability of the album's release increased) weren't dashed to pieces, and that I found lots to love here. For the record, my love for Gn'R isn't just limited to "Appetite", as seems to be the case with everyone who decided to hold "Chinese Democracy" to that standard - it includes the baroque and extravagant Rose-penned opuses found on "Illusion II" ("Breakdown", "Estranged", "Locomotive"), and if you can't hear the connection between those moments and "CD", then you just can't hear the album for the myth.

10. The Cure, "4:13 Dream"
As I predicted earlier, the casual delivery of this one was its saving grace rather than Achilles heel. Instead of having to wait for the mood to strike to listen to it in its entirety, I found myself cherry-picking from "4:13 Dream" whenever a phrase from a song drifted through my head, something I do with very few Cure albums ("Kiss Me" and "Wild Mood Swings" being the exceptions). Also, a great showcase for the now fantastically tattooed Porl Thompson after his return to the fold.

9. Rome, "Masse Mensch Material"
Luxembourg's Jerome Reuter is on a roll. He's issued three LPs in as many years on Cold Meat Industry which have single-handedly made me sit up and pay attention to neo-folk again, rather than simply dismissing the entire genre as hollow posturing at best, and masturbatory nationalism at worst. While Reuter doesn't break from the genre's military fixation, he filters all manner of pan-European jingoism through the prism of universal suffering (cue token version of "Wir Moorsoldaten"), and inevitably finds all rhetoric wanting in the face of the pain of the individual. What remains? Art. And strangely enough, this manifests in "Masse Mensch Material" in the form of some songs which, with some different window dressing, could pass for torch songs, or at least decidedly poppier fare than neo-folk typically permits. The man's got a keen ear for songcraft, and makes the most of his near-lounge singer croon (I still hear similarities with Gavin Friday) as he guides us through another dark tour of life and love during wartime. Cynical, austere, gorgeous: this is neo-folk to believe in.

8. Heartbreak, "Lies"
An italo-disco revival was one of those things you just joked about in 2008 in the wake of electro-house, not to mention recent flirtations with acid-house by innumerable bands as of late. You never expected it to happen, let alone for a new italo album to sound this fresh and relevant. To be fair, one band doesn't constitute a full revival, but if the respect Heartbreak's record and earnest live show have garnered is any indication, "Lies" might not be the only Moroder-worshipping LP available to lovers of falsetto-laden candy-floss in 2009 - but it'll still probably be the best. Angst-ridden numbers like "Regret" and "Don't Lose My Time" lend some intriguing pathos to a genre that would usually mistake the term for a club in Torremolinos without sacrificing an ounce of dancefloor potential, but it's mission statement cut "We're Back" which raises Heartbreak well above the standard of a retro-novelty act, and sets the bar high for electro in the new year. Who wants a new beat renaissance this time around?

7. Weep, "Never Ever"
Doc Hammer uses his new wave fixation as catharsis and gives us this, 2008's best break-up album. Goth as fuck without ever being over-bearing or pretentious, Weep deftly plots out points held by Mephisto Walz and The Sound, and much territory between. World-weary yet lushly pleasing, this record is the sound of watching a sunset after a long day at the factory. It looks as though Doc's got NY shows and touring plans in the works, so hopefully this marks the beginning of an at least part-time return to music by one of the most canny purveyors of the dark stuff.

6. The Raveonettes, "Lust Lust Lust"
I'll admit this one didn't grab me on the first couple of spins. "Meh, they've gone back to the 'Chain Gang of Love' well, which is better than another overly pictureque album in the style of 'Pretty In Black', but where are the tunes?" Oh, they're there, all right. "You Want The Candy" kicks open the door of your high school gym and subjects you to the most aggressive make-out in prom history, and "Aly, Walk With Me" is compelling evidence that the Raves should've earned the nod for the last James Bond theme instead of Jack Black. What seemed at first like an overreach into unfamiliar territory is actually just the porting over of their golden ear for melody and harmony to smoother textures. The song may change but the "yeah, yeah, yeah" remains the same.

5. The Presets, "Apocalypso"
Feisty Australians avoid sophomore slump and come out pitching pure club heat. While the dark, stabby attacks of "Kicking And Screaming" and "Talk Like That" give the impression of a uniformly stark and merciless album upon initial listens, more soulful undertones begin to emerge later, and not just on show-stopper "This Boy's In Love" (still my choice for club jam of the year). As you snuggle up on the couch with the last couple of tracks, you could be forgiven for thinking that it's "Chill Out" era KLF that's whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Their live show's grown by leaps and bounds, too. While they were certainly no slouches when they toured for "Beams", they were an unassailable fortress of light, noise and love this year.

4. Disfear, "Live The Storm"
Hardcore is one of the few genres I'll own up to flat-out disliking. The aggression is never tempered with fun, innovation, or, heaven forfend, virtuosity. Given that, it seems like nothing short of a miracle that Disfear understand that straddling the metal/punk boundary doesn't just involve yelling louder or playing faster, but actually paying attention to what makes metal great (memo to NYHC kids: put down the Minor Threat bootlegs for a minute and buy "No Remorse"). Sure, they've got an unfair ringer in former At The Gates vocalist Tomas Lindberg, but he can't take credit for the most balls-out guitar work I heard all year. Each song is a perfect maelstrom of blistering speed made up of equal parts riffage and noodling. One could even be forgiven for thinking that the ghost of Cliff Burton was in the room during the recording of epic finale "Phantom". In closing, this record is so hard it made me want to headbutt myself. Eventually deeming that impossible, I had to be content with shouting myself hoarse along with it and shotgunning tallboys.

3. Memmaker, "How To Enlist In A Robot Uprising"
Rarely have I found myself listening to what should by all rights be a wholly club album at home and on the bus with such regularity. These slabs of perfectly executed harsh electro served up by two Montrealers were no-brainers when it came to the dancefloor, but as anyone familiar with Yann Faussurier's primary project Iszoloscope knows, there's precious little that's simple about the man's work. Wave after wave of static crashes around foundations of beats, on tracks like "Insomnia", never rendering anything illegible but instead offering our inner IDM-head plenty of space to roam and chin-scratch while our feet stomped til our feet were raw. Im rhythmus bleiben.

2. Cut Copy, "In Ghost Colours"
2004's "Bright Like Neon Love" was a pleasantly breezy trip through some of your favourite synth-pop motifs of yore. Skimming from one refrain to the next without looking back, it wasn't so much an album of songs ("Going Nowhere" being the notable exception) as it was a sequence of moods and themes. "In Ghost Colours" took a gamble by collating those sources, layering them atop one another like so many colour gels, firing a light through them and hoping to hell that what appeared on the wall held together compositionally. Cut Copy didn't just come together with their second LP, though - they took off into the stratosphere and shone their colours into just about every available corner: clubs, your mom's workout playlist, cel phone ads, frosh keggers. In spite of that massive exposure, "In Ghost Colours" held strong, becoming one of 2008's most durable and rewarding listens.

For starters, who knew Dan Whitford could write such great songs? "Unforgettable Season" could be a B-side from "The Head On The Door" (that's high praise from me, in case you were unsure). The breakthrough that comes when "So Haunted" shifts from its pensive verse to its teenage breakaway chorus is emblematic of the keaning need for release and freedom that marks much of "In Ghost Colours". It's a record about desire, in many ways, but never resorts to tacky come-ons or serenading. Not to saddle it with unfair comparisons, but "In Ghost Colours" does for looks across a dancefloor what "Born To Run" did for the aimless meanderings of Jersey youth: it raises the stakes by adopting the aesthetics of myth. Wherever you were when you were listening to "Lights And Music" or "Hearts On Fire" (possibly even stronger here than it was upon its '07 single release, bolstered by the company of its fellows), you felt the same want, the same need to reach out into the aether of possibility that those dancing to the same songs at clubs around the world were working towards. In that sense, it functions as a network of sorts, much in the same way as "Silent Shout" before it. The lyrics are still vague and slight, but no harm, no foul.

So, here we are: twenty years after it was recorded, the spirit of New Order's failed acid house gambit "Technique" returned in the guise of a bunch of Australian graphic designers to redeem itself and define dance music for 2008. A fine time, indeed.

1. M83, "Saturdays = Youth"
It proved easy to play the 80's match-up game with the tracklist of "Saturdays": "Skin Of The Night" = Cocteau Twins, "Up!" = Kate Bush, etc. I've also read no small amount of complaints about Anthony Gonzalez's moves away from his established ambient-in-a-cathedral sound (although have those people listened to the second half of the record?). But anyone with any love for the sources Gonzalez pays tribute to here will have already heard traces of them in his previous records. This isn't another limp attempt at an 80's revival, people: it's an artist coming full circle to what motivated them to begin to compose in the first place. It's also the most stunning record I had the privilege of hearing this year.

Starting the album with some impressionist piano and high, shimmering vocals, "You, Appearing" fakes you out into thinking you've got another pleasant record of soundtrack pieces to look forward to - "like Air but with more purpose" was always my shorthand description for "Dead Cities" and "Before The Dawn". Instead, you're treated to a clutch of immaculate pop tunes which use Gonzalez's flair for production as an accent, rather than the focal point. And what tunes they are. If you take the album title at its word, they're paeans to youthful indolence, drama, folly and romance. They stretch out to the horizon's vanishing point, as infinite as a weekend reprieve from coldly suffocating high school seems on a Saturday morning. They're also quite varied, ranging from the gossamer waltz of "Skin Of The Night" to "Graveyard Girl", an immolation of every horribly true teen angst cliche at the altar of the JaMC. If the ability to shift between so many styles with such grace and calm is Gonzalez's ace in the hole on this outing, then perhaps the true unspoken patron saint of the 80s guiding this record is actually This Mortal Coil.

Colours shift as twilight approaches on the second half of "Saturdays", and as pop structures give way to the slow burn of Gonzalez's trademark orchestral manoeuvres in the dark like "Highway of Endless Dreams" and "Too Late". Intriguingly, hearing some more conventional M83 compositions after his pop forays lends more credence to his dramatic builds and crescendos. Rather than hearing the score to an unmade film, you're now onstructing your own cinematic narrative based on what's come previously, casting Kim, Jessie and the Graveyard Girl forward into all tomorrow's Saturdays. As the endless drone of "Midnight Souls Still Remain" rings on, the length and depth of Gonzalez's accomplishment begins to sink in. You come out the other end of this record a bit different: cheeks rosy with gusts of wind, heart still quavering from the rise and fall of the tides it was subject to. If nostalgia requires distance and rose-coloured glasses, then "Saturdays = Youth" isn't a nostalgic record at all: there's no distance from the experience here, and for a few astonishing, Blakean moments, everything appears as it truly is.

Alex's Best of 2008: Honourable Mentions

First off, I'll co-sign Bruce's endorsement of Boris, Ladytron, The GZA and Bison, all good records and all solid listens that might have made top 10 in a weaker year. Here's a few more.

Prodigy, "HNIC pt. 2" Not as compulsively listenable as last year's Return of the Mac "mixtape", this record still benefits from the fire that an impending stint in the bing lit under P's ass. With better production and a bit more focus this would have been great, as it is it's mostly pretty good. It's best moments harness a spooky, weary energy that make the most of Prodigy's pathetic, burnt out hood-soldier routine.

Booka Shade, "The Sun & the Neon Light" Frankfurt's poster boys for tasteful, minimal electrohouse deliver a pleasing little slice of mellow business. No standout dancefloor monsters, mostly just chill head nodding goodness with the occasional twitch. Good for the occasional late night walk or what have you.

Mindless Self Indulgence, "If" Consistently the band that most appeals to my inner 15 year old, MSI serve up another platter of juvenile but appealing nonsense. "Never Wanted to Dance" is the best track they've written since "Faggot", and the rest of the record keeps pace with it's energy. Solid production helps elevate this one from the novelty band territory currently ruled by the likes of The Electric Six.

The Bug, "London Zoo" Dubby electronics with some zesty toasting by various dancehall artists doesn't ever really break out the way I wanted it to, but was still pleasant enough. This one seemed to ride the critical enthusiasm for dubstep that Burial kicked off last year. It ain't that kind of a beast really, but is still a decent listen.

Bruce's Best of 2008: Honourable Mentions

All in all, a pretty satisfying year for new music. So satisfying in fact, that I felt the need to shout out (in no particular order) some discs that didn't quite nudge their way into my Top Ten, yet still found their way onto the speakers with pleasing regularity.

Gang Gang Dance, "Saint Dymphna"
Never has the schism between the dancefloor and the indie snob's bedroom disc seemed so tantalizingly thin, and yet so tragically apparent. In a perfect world we'd all be dancing to this on Friday night and drinking martinis named after different species of whales. I get the sense that this is the sort of album Bjork wanted "Volta" to be, and maybe if it had been, I'd still be listening to it.

Nine Inch Nails, "The Slip"
After two consecutive LPs of getting his guitar-rock ya-yas out, I was initially wondering if the new, fitter, happier, more productive Trent 2.0 had permanently abandoned his softer side. "Ghosts" quickly put the lie to that, but I couldn't conceive of it as a cohesive single album as such (and hey, neither could Trent, given the need to divide it into quasi-EPs). The seemingly off-the-cuff, "what, another album?" delivery of "The Slip" showed that we could have our cake and eat it, too: an A-side of straight-forward rockers, and a B-side of moody synth-driven pieces. Reznor's Bowie worship continues unabated as he delivers his own take on the structure of "Low", and while it ain't up to that standard, "The Slip" kept the now-furiously productive NIN machine on a steady roll.

GZA, "Pro Tools"
One could argue that a Fiddy diss by an elder statesman like the GZA was both cheap and a grab for attention, but anything that brought extra attention to this solid number was fine by me. It's great to have a disc where the Genius isn't in danger of being eclipsed by his more flamboyant Wu brothers. Even though he's not fighting tooth and limb to stay above the waves of cinematic beats that Muggs threw at him for 2005's "Grandmasters" collab, that's a bit of a plus on "Pro Tools": the spotlight's all on the GZA, and he keeps it both relaxed and masterful.

Boris, "Smile"
Everyone's favourite "Yeah, but have you seen them live? So fuckin' loud, man!" band applied some shoegazey gloss to their two formulas (that would be "depresso-crescendo" and "garage-spazz" for those just catching up) this time out. Hell, they even tried to pen a power ballad in "You Were Holding An Umbrella", but ended up composing something that earns its emotive response honestly. I steered clear of the whole multiple mixes/tracklists debacle, so no comment on that.

Bloc Party, "Intimacy"
I never understood the hype, and in some ways I still don't, but I like this. I'm sure some of their core fanbase are upset at the overproduction, but it's about time that some of these post-punk revival kids realised that their predecessors didn't flee from the mixing desk in terror. The remix disc of an LP which never existed.

Bison, "Quiet Earth"
Fuck, this is heavy. And happening right in my backyard! Hide the good china. Stoner metal's never sounded so fresh. Or so much like thrash, for that matter. The perfect antidote to BC's Wolf Parade/Black Mountain rep.

Earth, "The Bees Made Honey In The Lion's Skull"
On the flip side, drone metal never sounded so stoned. Their Cormac McCarthy obsession continues unabated, but here they're looking not so much out the window at barren plains, but rather at the inner landscape While Thinking Very Deeply about the munchies. To quote Benjamin, "Hunger as an oblique axis cutting through the system of the trance."

Ladytron, "Velocifero"
While there's no clear club smash like "Everything You Touch" or "Sugar" to be found, they've admirably maintained the compositional standard they achieved with "Witching Hour", which pushed them so far ahead the rest of the pack desperately trying to flee from the dread shadow of electroclash. "Black Cat" drops serious bass while "Runaway" is smooth n' cute, but the whole affair's slicked with a sheen of glistening black.

Dr. Dooom, "Dr. Dooom 2"
"They wanna sue me! Why? Cuz I'm Doc Dooomy!" Oh, Keith. You so krazy. If there was one thing 2008 was missing before this dropped, it was a Simon Cowell diss track. The slap-happy horrorcore of "Run For Your Life" was the aural equivalent of the Hilarious House of Frightenstein, and KurtMasta Kurt's production is solid from back to front.

Wire, "Object 47"
A pleasant mix of "The Ideal Copy" era overdrive and the dada-pop of the recent Colin Newman fronted Githead side-project. Lead-off track "One Of Us" is both a "Map Ref" quality sing-along and a bitter riposte to now ex-guitarist Bruce Gilbert. I'm still quite peeved about the cancellation of the Vancouver gig, BTW.

"Don't say what you mean, you might spoil your face."

Perfect As Cats: A Tribute To The Cure
Tribute album. The phrase alone should make your skin crawl and move you to scour your record collection to ensure that a Cleopatra operative hasn't snuck "A Loving Industrial Tribute to Andrew Lloyd Webber" into it. To paraphrase Ray Smuckles, PLEASE LORD REMOVE TRIBUTE ALBUMS FROM YOUR PLAN FOR US. Tribute albums are among the lowest tricks a record company can play upon the most rabid quotient of a band's fan base. Not only will they be compelled to purchase it for the sake of completion, but they more than anyone will be painfully aware of just how short of the originals so many of the cover versions fall.

The Cure have not been immune to this plague, and like the drooling Cure devotee that I am, I've bought them all: the token Cleo goth tribute, the synthpop bands no one's heard of tribute. Hell, I've even waded through much of the ongoing Pink Pig "we're gonna cover every damn note the band ever committed to tape" Project. So when I caught wind of a Cure tribute primarily made up of young indie-somethings on the horizon, I admit I felt more than a bit like Chuck Yeager: being called back to the front once again to do combat well past my prime with youngsters armed with all manner of new-fangled technological gadgetry. Then I noticed it was a double-disc album. "Christ," I said to myself. "Those are some fast MiGs."

For the most part, "Perfect As Cats" is just as bad as you'd imagine. Someone named Geneva Jacuzzi (c'mon, how could I make that up?) shits the bed while doing a monotone "vampish" take on "The Walk". ("What if I make fun of goth when I cover The Cure? Get it? Because goth is so silly! This'll be great! Wait'll I tell my 'filmmaker' boyfriend!") Kaki King gives Jacuzzi a run for her money in the most ridiculous name contest, and manages to turn the goofy horns and synth gurgles of "Close To Me" into an overly earnest acoustic guitar strum-fest. It's a ploy that could've worked (see Frente!'s cover of "Bizarre Love Triangle"), but King's way-too-breathy delivery makes it sound like a Bright Eyes B-side. Even worse, some bands sound like they just don't care. BlackBlack (who are constituted of Kevin Haskins of Bauhaus' daughters, apparently), Les Bicyclettes Blanches and Katrine Ottosen all sound as though they're doing a pre-gig soundcheck by lackadaisically running through the last song they heard on their tour van's tape deck.

It's not all dreck, and some tracks were able to at least remind me of why I'd bothered to bite into this turd sandwich in the first place - the strength of the original material, even if very few of them take said material into engaging new territory. Astrid Quay offer a cute and honestly straightforward take on "The Caterpillar", and Devastations' version of "The Drowning Man" could be mistaken for the original from a distance. There's nothing new about Mariee Sioux's Joni Mitchell-wannabe plucking of "Lovesong" (and, not to go hog-wild with Achewood references, but no one should get famous simply by covering songs off of "Disintegration"), but her voice kinda reminds me of Marissa Nadler's, so points for that.

It's a testament to the compiler's...mercy, I suppose, that the last handful of tracks on the second disc veer away from what's become a very draining routine by that point. Perhaps anticipating how the listener might feel after umpteen power-pop covers of "Grinding Halt", lo-fi fuck-ups of "Pictures of You" and art-school piss-takes on "Why Can't I Be You?", they've stacked the end of "Perfect With Cats" with some provocative renditions of The Cure's darker material. Corridor take a gamble by shifting the focus of "The Kiss" away from Robert's psych-guitar histrionics and onto Boris Williams' sten-gun drum fills. While the latter disappear almost completely once the former comes to the fore in the original, Corridor keep the drums front and center the whole way through. Tara Busch drives "Let's Go To Bed" well away from the security of its synth-pop playground and into the middle of a broad field of chilling snow designed by Kate Bush where it shivers exquisitely.

And then we've got Jesu's take on "The Funeral Party". Full disclosure: I'm a massive Jesu fan and the promise of hearing Justin Broadrick apply his bowel-quaking waves of symphonic feedback to one of The Cure's most magisterial tracks was motivation enough to fight my way through this whole affair. Expectations were high, but Broadrick never disappoints. At first the production sounded a tad thin, but then I realised I was listening to the track at the same middling volume as the rest of the album. Jesu's sonic aesthetic has always necessitated some extra volume, and with that accomplished a whole new world was revealed. The drums plant massive Roman columns, the synths shear upwards to mottled pink heavens and the vocals are pushed through a fine honeycomb mesh made of silver. Aided by some other worthy highlights (this album blatantly begs to be cherrypicked in emusic or iTunes), Jesu's track redeems much of "Perfect As Cats", and almost makes me forgive it for exposing my brain to the moniker Geneva Jacuzzi. Almost.

Jesu, "The Funeral Party"

Yuletide Greetings

In the immortal words of Eazy E, Merry Mothafuckin' Christmas. Merry Mothafuckin' Christmas, everyone.

Here's a lovely little tune from the Raveonettes fab "Wishing You a Rave Christmas" EP. As my dad put it, who are these kids ripping off the Everly Brothers? We kid the Raveonettes.

The Raveonettes, "Come On Santa"

Dragonforce @ The Croatian Cultural Centre, Dec. 19

Trish's Take
I originally bought these tickets as a birthday present for my roommate, who was a far bigger DragonForce fan than myself, but couldn't really send her to the concert alone, so I ended up getting a ticket for me and my boytoy as well. As per usual, we missed the first two opening acts, and got to the Croatian Cultural Centre just in time for the band to take the stage.

Due to the worldwide success of the Guitar Hero games, of which DragonForce had a song on the third edition, the crowd ranged in ages from about 5 years, all the way up to Moms and Dads in their 50's, several of whom waited in the foyer of the venue until the show was over to collect the kids and drive their mini-vans back to the burbs. I found myself sandwiched between awkward teenagers, some who were fat-lipped with big braces and others with bad skin, and toques that they used to cover up the haircuts their Moms gave them before the show. The venue was a sauna of pot smoke and sweat, which only encouraged me to get fresh air, and made me as angsty as the kids I was surrounded by, especially since the show was sold out and crammed full of hormones.

DragonForce was composed of six dudes with long hair and extended guitar solos that made your fingers burn just from watching them play. Each song was like an epic battle that seemed to last long enough for you to slay the last beast in an effort to save the universe while riding your stallion into the sunset with your sword held high. On the stage they had built ramps so the back of the stage was a higher level than the front and you could run up the ramp at the side of the stage to get to the back to rock out with the other band members. This basically turned into a track, in which the guys in the band chased each other around in circles like little kids do when you give them too much sugar. The whole show was a build up to their track "Through the Fire and Flames" which they played as the encore, while ZP Theart (lead vocals) showed us his "snowballs."

The boys in the band were very generous, and Sam (lead and rhythm guitar) was almost too giving with his not-so-subtle invitation to any ladies in the crowd who wanted to "hook up" after the show, which only came across as super slimy and creepy since the girls at the show were either still in training bras or nursing ones. ZP Theart, threw several handfuls of guitar picks into the crowd after the show and thanked the audience multiple times to show his gratitude for this sold out show which was the last show of 2008 in their world tour.
---
Bruce's Take
Unlike my more truant colleague, I managed to catch the second opening act, Finnish folk metal act Turisas. Judging by the number of amped up fifteen year-olds sporting their merch (and face paint), these guys have been hip with the young end of the metal fanbase for at least some period of time, and I guess it's not difficult to see why, even if I can't share their enthusiasm.

Think of it this way: DragonForce had to find touring partners that wouldn't usurp their headliner status by appearing more badass than them. When you have songs influenced by the Pac-Man score, this is no mean feat, but Turisas fit the bill. Despite faux-fur jerkins, black n' red facepaint and repeated insistences that "this is Battle Metal!", Turisas' sound would've almost fit in better at a folk fest than a metal show. Guitars and drums were almost absent from the mix, being overshadowed by taped synthesized horns and other wind instruments, as well as the (wait for it) on-stage fiddle and accordion players. While Turisas are going for a Viking aesthetic, the rhythms of their music owe far more to Irish and Scottish reels than Norse battle hymns. Rounding things off with a cover of Boney M's "Rasputin" confirmed that yes, these guys are about as musically hardcore as Lordi. They seemed to be having fun, but I'm not sure how much of the crowd was in on the joke. Quothorn must be spinning in his grave.

As for DragonForce themselves, they did seem genuinely happy to be rounding off their tour in front of an appreciative Vancouver crowd. When Theart commented that the crowd's initial furor had dampened after the first couple of numbers, he likely didn't know that it was due to the brawl that had broken out in the pit. Note to high school jocks: no matter how proud you are of your recent growth spurt, taking on three Hell's Angels, even if they're smaller than you, is never a successful concert-going strategy.

I'd heard that the 'Force use a fair amount of backing tape, but if that's the case they've masked it impressively. Both Herman Li and Sam Totman were in fine form all night, not only admirably pulling off their own ridiculously wanky solos, but mocking each other's as such. Material from this year's "Ultra Beatdown" was warmly received, even if the excessively decadent intro sections of some pieces were made even more apparent live. It's a rare band that can fire off four or five solos before the first verse begins.

Personal highlights for me were "Soldiers Of The Wasteland" and "Valley Of The Damned", the latter of which was enough to drive me into the pit, and also enough to drive me out of it. My circle skills ain't what they used to be, and I couldn't keep up with the kids who can likely actually complete "Through The Fire And The Flames" on Expert. Also, it's difficult to shout along with the band's irresistibly anthemic choruses whilst taking elbows to the back.

Gang Gang Dance, "House Jam"

Like most record geeks, trash-talking Pitchfork accounts for a goodly portion of mine and Alex's music jibber-jabber (I'd have thought that the Lil' Wayne's knob gobblin' would've stopped by this point, but no), so it wounds me to have to tip the hat to them. But, as I found out when they directed me to Poni Hoax in '06, their year-end Best 100 Tracks lists are usually good for pointing you to one or two gems which would've otherwise slipped through the cracks, and with a crop of records as good as 2008's, there's plenty I've missed...like the fact that Gang Gang Dance dropped an LP a couple of months ago.

I loved their 2005 release, "God's Money", for it's ability to keep intriguing tonal soundscapes and sheer fucked-upedness in the air simultaneously without ever disappearing up it's own arse. "House Jam", from their new(ish) "Saint Dymphna" LP, manages to do the same while adding some noddable synth-flourishes. I started my day off with a snowy walk set to the first disc of Kate Bush's "Aerial", and "House Jam" was the perfect digestif: cool snares and inviting vocal coos lay the ground for a medium-tempo groover, which even manages to work in some tasteful Low-Life-era New Order style guitar.

Cue this up, and enjoy the snow while it lasts.

Gang Gang Dance, "House Jam"


Edit: There's a slightly tweaked remix as well, but I think I prefer the original.

Current 93 - Black Ships ate the Sky (JG Thirlwell remix)

If you aren't familiar with Current 93, specifically the solemn and bizarre nature of their apocalyptic folk music I don't know how to convey how weird the idea of someone doing a hot electro remix of one of their tracks is. Of course, who better to take the title track from c93's excellent 2006 album Black Ships ate the Sky and turn it into a hot dancefloor mess then ol' Jim Thirlwell, aka Foetus, aka Foetus Interruptues, aka you've got Foetus on your breath, aka Scraping Foetus off the Wheel, aka about a million other variations of the word "foetus". Not content to be producing his own tunes as well as soundtracking the best show on TV (*pssst* it's The Venture Brothers), apparently ol' JG took some time out of his busy schedule to throw together a Current 93 remix 12" with those wacky kids in Matmos entitled Black Ships Heat the Dancefloor. It's a pretty sweet mix, with nice use of middle eastern instrumentation, a thumpin electro beat and David Tibet's notoriously love 'em or hate 'em vocals vocodered up hella robotical style. Check the video out, interpretive dance and Tibet looking particularly eurotrashy.

Current 93 - Black Ships ate the Sky (JG Thirlwell mix)



And for a standard of comparison, the original track:

Ohgr

There is nothing quite like going to a goth concert on the Sabbath. Ohgr was performing at the Red Room on Sunday November 23rd, and after patiently waiting for this moment, hundreds of Vancouver's spookiest all made an appearance to pay tribute to some of the former members of Skinny Puppy. I was late, as usual, arriving to the venue amongst a sea of black, sometimes I wonder how I manage to find my circle of friends when we are all camouflaged in the dim lights. To an outsider, it would look like a cult meeting, or a ritualistic sacrifice was about to take place since we were all dressed in a uniform of stompy boots and industrial gear, but really it was just a roomful of anarchists who wanted to tear the place down.

Ogre's live performances remain the high water mark for lead singers in our corner of the pool. As I realised when I was able to see him live for the first time on the "Greater Wrong of The Right" tour, it's one thing to watch the video of "Ain't It Dead Yet", to read about the effect of Ogre's elaborate costuming at shows, to have it pointed out to you that everyone in the business has jacked his style at one time or another - it's another thing entirely to viscerally experience it for yourself. The man is at home on a stage from the moment he steps onto it, and never ceases to be in the midst of some grotesque pantomime from that point onward: part butoh artist, part court jester. On that note, our hometown boy was looking damn lithe and spry for someone pushing fifty.

Ohgr graced the stage in a backwards bodysuit which made us think he was singing through an alien mask, however looking at his hands you could see that they were facing the wrong direction and this mask was on the back of his head. In typical Ohgr-style, he slowly removed layers of this costume throughout the show, turning into a freaky-looking mime, and then removing that mask to reveal a face like Heath Ledger's as the Joker in Batman. What most intrigued me about Ohgr's performance was not the experimental sound to his latest CD, but the grace with which he moved his hands and the crazed look on his face while he did so, it was like watching a freak show clown try to seduce you. And in some sick way, I was completely mesmerized.



Being someone who loves to rip it up on the dance floor on any given night, I was super stoked to hear the last few songs Ohgr played, "Cracker" and "Water". The fans gave so much love to the band as they rocked the venue, I swear I almost saw a tear in Nivek's eyes near the end of the night, because he looked thrilled to be doing a live show after all these years. He made several shoutouts to other local musicians including Bill Leeb from Frontline Assembly, who I spied in the audience.

As mentioned in Rob Kukuchka's guest review of "Devil In My Details", the new ohGr album is both decidedly darker and dirtier than either of its predecessors, or even the two post-reunion Skinny Puppy albums, for that matter. As such, it was a shock to hear just how emotive and even plaintive the songs from "Devil In My Details" could be when presented in a stripped-down live environment, with little in the way of backing tracks.

Now that I have had the opportunity to listen to Ohgr's newest CD at a live venue, I am definitely feeling more encouraged to pick it up even though it sounds more experimental than I usually care for.

Take Me Out!

The Commodore was sold out on Tuesday night for the return of Franz Ferdinand. The Scottish boys took to the stage and immediately brought the energy making the crowded venue scream. It was a simple show with no extra props, guest appearances, or special stage setup, just a couple of dudes with guitars and a wicked sound system with a few cool lights from the venue thrown into the mix.

The sound was amazing. I don’t know if this was because the last live show I saw was such a huge disappointment, but Alex’s voice sounded exactly like it did on the CD. This actually frightened me at the beginning of their set, only because it sounded good enough to be lip-synched. However, as the show progressed, my assumptions were corrected as the extendo-remixes of a few of the songs and a few off-key notes by the front man proved to me that this was the real deal. Even more exciting though, was Mr. Kapranos’ stage dive during the last song of the night “This Fire” while still playing guitar!

I wasn’t sure if one of the girls near us had her headphones on and was secretly rocking out to something completely different because she was moving in all kinds of strange directions that were off beat and bizarre. I am not sure if it was her interpretation of “Take Me Out” or if perhaps someone slipped a little E into her drink and she didn’t know it yet. Either way, she kept our table quite entertained when we weren’t singing along and clapping our hands.

Franz Ferdinand sang a good mix of their first and second CDs, with a new one due out at the end of next month. I have to admit I was a little surprised when they played “Take Me Out” and “Do You Want To” before the end of the show. I thought for sure they would save one of those for the encore, but instead they gave us big hits like that throughout the show, as well as “Michael” and “The Dark of the Matinee.” The boys from Scotland proved to us that you don’t need to spend thousands of dollars on a fancy stage setup; all you have to do is come out and play your heart out.

In the Temple of Duds.

I guess you can still call them The Sisters of Mercy even though there are only two original members, and that would be including Doktor Avalanche as one of them. The only remaining "sister" is Andrew Eldritch, who has been the frontman of the band since its conception in 1980.

Now that the band (Eldritch) has refused to release any new CDs, the only income he is getting from the band is from touring. The Sisters surprised us with another tour, which landed in Vancouver on Monday night after their last show here in March of 2006. I swore after the last show I wouldn't bother seeing them live again, but after a few drinks on the weekend and a comp ticket, how could I refuse?

For denying their gothic roots, The Sisters, put on a show that was dark and macarbre, and although Mr. Eldritch would like to prove to his fans that he is a rock star, the sunglasses he sported in the darkness of the nightclub proved otherwise. I was about three people from the front of the stage but due to the low light levels, and the heavy fog being dispensed, I was unable to get a decent photo on my camera because it was far too dark, and the flash only reflected in the fog. Only a goth would wear sunglasses to a live show this dimly lit. Andrew also sported the brightest neon yellow shirt I have ever seen, to again remind us that he is a rock star, not a black-wearing poet who has a voice deeper than the graves his fans dig for their myspace photoshoots.



A few other fans who were close enough to heckle the Sisters yelled out comments to turn the music up, and rightfully so, as you could barely hear the vocals that when played on your home stereo were melancholy enough to give you the shivers. However, our dear un-goth friend Andrew is either too old, or just a total jerk when dealing with fans, since he told us that if we wanted it louder we should go stand in front of one of the speakers since we must be deaf. I guess he really must be a rock star with an attitude like that. Mr. Eldritch carried on to play some of their big hits like "Dominion" "Lucretia My Reflection" and "Marion" which kept the crowd happy in any case.

I will give credit to the fact that there were definetley more people at this show than the previous one, however that could be related to the fact that the Ohgr show was the day before, so a alot of people may have come in from out of town for that and just stayed the extra day. This is my theory since I doubt there were that many people raving about the show the last time they came around.

The Prodigy, "Invaders Must Die"

So, after almost five years of relative silence, The mighty Prodigy have announced that they'll be releasing their new album in March of 2009. And to that end, they're giving away the first single "Invaders Must Die" on their website. And...uhm... it's not very good. At best, the track comes off as a second rate Pendulum rip-off. Pendulum themselves were actually responsible for the most banging Prodigy track since "Smack My Bitch Up" when they remixed "Voodoo People" for the Prodigy's Their Law singles compilation. Of course that remix was four years ago, and Pendulum have since moved on soundwise to doing some less good but at least still fun rock-oriented Drum n' Bass. So yeah, the Prodigy sound doubly out of ideas here, as they jack a sound from another artist who've already moved on from it, and don't even do a particularly convincing job of it. I'll cop the album when it comes out undoubtedly, but this ain't exactly filling me with confidence.

The Prodigy, "Invaders Must Die"


Super Bonus Video: Prodigy - Voodoo People (Pendulum remix)

Black Orchid, "Horizon"

Ascii.Disko's always been a bit touch n' go for me. Daniel Holc can pitch the odd quirky synthpop screwball, but he can also fall into an electro-by-numbers rut (as was the case when we peeped him at Kinetik) which, while not unpleasant, certainly doesn't reinvent the wheel, or stick trading cards to its spokes for that matter.

So, when I started doing some digging on Black Orchid, the name that was credited with crafting "Horizon", a delightfully dour tune about admiring a loved one's sleeping face in the pale blue cast of dawn that jumped out at me from an otherwise so-so compilation, I was (pleasantly) surprised to learn that Black Orchid is actually Holc's new side-project, which sees him returning to his post-punk roots. Further digging revealed that while a full-length Black Orchid album, "From Airlines To Lifelines", has been recorded, it's been cast into limbo by label drama (said digging also revealed that Holc evidently wasn't loving Final Scratch).

In the meantime, enjoy "Horizon". It's a pretty little thing which calls to mind a more sedate version of The Sound, or perhaps a less overwrought version of The Wake. Best not combine the two and produce a waking sound, lest Holc's dozing muse starts yawning and fumbling for her slippers, ruining the whole picturesque scene. (sorry)

Black Orchid, "Horizon"

"Yes, Virginia, there is a Patriarchy"

I've generally enjoyed both Dresden Dolls CDs, and was thinking about picking up frontwoman Amanda Palmer's debut solo disc in anticipation of checking out her show when she rolls through Van in about a week's time...

...Until today, when I got word that Amanda's parted ways with label Roadrunner in response to their refusal to promote her (dope) new video. Take a look for yourself and see if you can spot the problem that Roadrunner had with it:



Well? Isn't it obvious? Weren't you roundly disgusted by all of the belly fat that Amanda was showing? I mean, look at the video at 4:11! There's an actual crease in her stomach, for cripes sake! Wouldn't you think it was entirely reasonable to ask Palmer to re-edit the video so that viewers with the sexual maturity of nine year-old glue-eaters could be spared the sight of a woman who doesn't look as though a stiff gust of wind might break her spine?

What's that? You wouldn't? You'd call that a pathetic pile of sexist double-standard bullshit from a label that's had no qualms about promoting material from gentlemen of the more corpulent persuasion like Ian Astbury and Dino Cazares? Well, you wouldn't be alone. Palmer fans have united in forming a Rebellyon which will be forwarding pictures of their own bellies to Roadrunner (pithy messages written in Sharpie 'round said bellies are optional) for the foreseeable future.

I'm holding off buying "Who Killed Amanda Palmer" until I can do so at the show - sure I'll have to wait a bit but there's a better chance of more of my cash going to Amanda's pocket and staying out of Roadrunner's. I've bought plenty of CDs from Roadrunner in the past, and I'm not saying I never will again (although a mea culpa from them at this point couldn't hurt), but let's just say that I can easily find alternate uses for my entertainment dollar in these economically tight times.

Shit like this is why my head feels like exploding when people claim that "sexism is over" or that they "don't get" feminism.