Hot Chip, "Transmission (Joy Division cover)"

I've personally heard more Joy Division tributes and cover versions than most music bloggers have had hot lunches. It's a crowded field with few standout selections, people tend to either go way faithful (boring!) or single out one element or lyric to hammer away on ad nauseum, like The Killer's enormous flail on "Shadowplay". Aside from my fondness for The Swans' fantastic cover of "Love Will Tear Us Apart" (I like the Gira vocal version a bit better) and Moby's version of "New Dawn Fades" (which might actually just be due to my associations with Heat) I wouldn't give a toss for most reinterpretations of JD's material. I do however quite like Hot Chip, mostly because they're clearly influencd by a lot of bands I like without ever sounding slavish. Indeed, the kind of indie electropop they ply wouldn't have sounded out of place on any number of Factory releases, which is I guess why this cover of "Transmission" works for me so well. Actually, what I keep thinking of when I hear the weird vocal treatment and the piano is the Bowie/Eno Berlin trilogy, which itself was a pretty enormous influence on Curtis and company. It's a pleasant little surprise courtesy of a forthcoming War Child covers compilation which will also feature Franz Ferdinand covering Blondie (!) The Yeah Yeah Yeahs covering the Ramones and TV on the Radio covering David Bowie. It's enough to pique my interest, and I fucking hate covers compilations.

Hot Chip, "Transmission (Joy Division cover)"

Freedom Highway

You may know that we love The Boss here at DIJ. We also love Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger. And on a day like today, goddamn if we don't love America.

Kommando XY, "Genesis Does (What Nintendon't)"

OH RAD! Old school EBM stylists Kommando XY have a track on their debut album Welcome to Gestrikland that sings the vocoded praises of the Sega Genesis! Named for one of Sega's delighful slogans from the early nineties (pre-dating the release of the SNES I think) the track shouts out numerous beloved Sega franchises like Alex Kidd, Wonderboy and Golden Axe. It's pretty silly, but for the faithful like yours truly it's also a loving tribute to one of the great consoles of yesteryear. The rest of the album is pretty hot, it delivers on the promise of old school DAF style EBM that bands like Spetsnaz have largely squandered.

Kommando XY, "Genesis Does (What Nintendon't)"

Cinematic Rehabilitation

There are countless songs which become inextricably linked with a moment in film or television they're set to: "In Dreams" in Blue Velvet, "Ride of the Valkyries" in Apocalypse Now, hell, even "Born Slippy" in Trainspotting. In those and other cases, a bit of music we'd always enjoyed or had never heard was simply given a new context - more reasons to appreciate it. But what happens when the context of a film is so powerful that it alters the way you feel about a song you previously loathed? Here are a few songs which were rehabilitated forever for me via "the magic of pheelm":

"Paper Planes" in Slumdog Millionaire
If you've hung out in as many record stores as I have over the past three or so years, yr probably just as sick of M.I.A. as I am. Her beats are decent but too tinny for non club listening for my taste, and her near-monotone delivery drives me batty. But it's the fact that Arular and Kala are played just about non-stop in just about every sort of record store imaginable, presumably due to her supposed cross-over appeal, which pushed her from an otherwise unremarkable musician I'd have quickly forgotten about into a ubiquitous force of annoyance. How many times have you heard "Boyz" while trying to buy some jeans or renew yr driver's license? (how many, how many?) In any case, I've been content to grimace whenever any of her stuff came on and leave it at that, and "Paper Planes" was simply another Pavlovian stimulus (in all likelihood - I don't remember ever really paying attention to it, apart from possibly being irritated that she was jacking one of my favourite Clash tracks).

I watched Slumdog Millionaire while going through my second run of The Wire, which might've helped open my ears when "Paper Planes" began to lazily slide overtop of a montage of brothers Jamal and Salim hustling on the trains of Mumbai. The similarities between the brothers and the corner kids of Baltimore were obvious, which made me think about "Paper Planes" in relation to the innumerable hip-hop tracks which could score Bodie or Wallace's lives. Suddenly, "Paper Planes" didn't sound like another club track of the month so much as it did an anthem to the camaraderie that arises out of desperate necessity during the hustle, whether it's taking place in India or the US. Hell, you could tie it all back in with Dickens' cockney urchins as well: "Paper Planes" would suit the Artful Dodger just right. The grind may be different, but the game stays the same.

"Lookin' Out My Back Door" in The Big Lebowski
I'd never given much thought to CCR before watching The Big Lebowski. In all honesty, I tend to tar most country/folk tinged rock mega-groups from their period with the same brush: lazy stoner shit which didn't realise how quickly it would become irrelevant. Their political differences and feud aside, Neil Young and Lynard Skynard sound just about the same to me: boring.

It isn't so much the particular scene in which "Lookin' Out My Back Door" is playing that quelled my distaste for CCR, and it's not even about the song itself. More than anything, CCR seemed to fit not just the character of the Dude, but his entire ethos so well that the stunted nature of his taste became part and parcel of what made him such a lovable and memorable film character. At least he hates the fuckin' Eagles, man.

"Don't Stop Believing" in The Sopranos
Let's be honest, to anyone under forty with an iota of taste, Journey are a fucking joke: one to be trotted out at drunken karaoke, a ritual which itself becomes ripe for parody. I don't think I need to stress just how low the cultural capital of this arena rock cheesefest was before the final episode of The Sopranos aired.

David Chase knew all of this when he picked "Don't Stop Believing" (rather than, say, "Thunder Road" or anything else by the patron saint of Jersey): "in the location van, with the crew, I was saying, 'What do you think?' When I said, 'Don't Stop Believin',' people went, 'What? Oh my god!' I said, 'I know, I know, just give a listen,' and little by little, people started coming around."

Chase accomplished a miracle far above and beyond his accomplishments with The Sopranos itself: he forced millions of people to think about the lyrics to a Journey song. Does Tony delusionally imagine himself and Carm to be the hard luck couple in the song? If the movie goes on and on and on, does that mean the stunted, betrayed and warped American dream we breathlessly bore witness to for six seasons will simply repeat, with Tony always forced to look over his shoulder whenever a mook in a Members Only jacket gives him the hairy eyeball?

However you choose to interpret it, David Chase undid decades of associations between "Don't Stop Believing" and unfortunate hair and even more unfortunate decisions made in the back seats of Trans Ams, and replaced them with a fresh batch of far more provocative ones: family, doubt, alienation, and onion rings. Always the onion rings.

"Layla" in Goodfellas
Growing up when I did, Eric Clapton was never the inspired, wild-eyed shredder he was in his youth. He was that old blues man wannabe boomer who desperately sought credibility by leeching off of older, more talented bluesmen (seriously, Clapton, did you have to use both known pictures of Robert Johnson to establish your worship of him?). I'd listened to a couple of my dad's Cream records and liked them enough, but there was no way those records could overpower the AOR juggernaut of "Tears In Heaven", or the blues adaptation of "Layla" from Clapton's "Unplugged" disc, with audience members mewing their approval at Slow Hand the whole way through.

I might've heard the original version of "Layla" at some point previous to watching Goodfellas, but that's besides the point. Eschewing the "main" portion of the song completely, Scorsese jumps straight to the clarion piano chords (which might be playing on the radio of that bullet-ridden pink Caddy). Bittersweet, the refrain repeats and repeats as body after body is found, as Henry realises that his friendship with Jimmy is the only thing keeping him from the dumpster. Years later, it's impossible to hear the song and not imagine Carbone's body in the meat locker.

Hey, whaddaya know? Some quick research indicates that Clapton had nothing to do with the piano coda portion of "Layla", which was actually composed by Derek and The Dominoes' drummer, Jim Gordon. I guess in closing and with a clear conscience I can say: fuck Eric Clapton.

The Prodigy, "Omen"

Oh my... well, the verdict is in: The Prodigy are trying to be Pendulum. If you thought the first single from the forthcoming album 'Invaders Must Die' sounded like Howlett and company trying to jack the mighty Australian D&B juggernauts' steez (which, I certainly did), peep the new single "Omen". Moreso even!

The Prodigy, "Omen"


Also, sampling horror movie themes? Not a good look in 2009. I expect that sort of rich, smelly gouda from someone like Combichrist, whose new album is also pretty lacklustre by the way.

At the very least The Omen single offers a fun remix of "Invaders Must Die" by UK Dubsteppers Chases & Status.

The Prodigy, "Invaders Must Die (Chase & Status remix)"

Are we Human, or are we Dancers?

The Killers have released their fourth album titled "Day & Age", which I picked up at London Drugs, since I was there to get my Cold FX for this lovely disease-filled holiday season. I popped the little disc into my computer and dragged my sick ass under the covers to listen to the new CD and close my eyes.

After the first listen, I wasn't overly thrilled about the CD, as it didn't really have anything of substance that jumped out at me. I had been anticipating a disc from them that was reminiscent of their debut album "Hot Fuss", which was filled with stand-out songs that were danceable rock tracks - meaning I could drop them in a DJ set at the club and not fear an empty dance floor, while still providing an alternative track list.

The opening track on the CD "Losing Touch" pretty much sets the tempo and style of the disc. It has a steady beat with an 80's sound to it that each song on the disc adopts in its own way. Even though the only standout is the title track of the CD, "Spaceman" (which totally rocks my world), the CD still has enough songs on it that make you want to listen from start to finish. What I am saying is, just because 99% of the songs that make it onto the charts these days are pop songs with a rock/hip hop/country appeal, doesn't mean songs that don't have an annoying chorus can't be on best selling albums.

Another track I really enjoyed on this CD was "Joyride" - and it wasn't a Roxette cover either! It did bring me back to "Rio" by Duran Duran with its sax solo in the middle of it, and I was hoping that I would open my eyes to a phone being delivered to me in a pool while I lay in the sun, but of course it was just the Vapo rub on my feet mixed with the electric blanket that was giving me the tropical fever. Mix that with the Caribbean drum beat in "I Can't Stay", and maybe if I took a bit more cold medication I really would have thought I was on a deserted island.

Of course if you are a Rock Band freak, you will also be excited to know that "Spaceman" is available for download, and I am happy to say it was one of the best $2 I spent this year. Remember, we are only 12 days into this year, and most of the money I have spent has been to keep myself from coughing up everything inside of me.

I voted this as one of my top five albums of 2008, because I do judge my albums on how much of the CD I actually listen to, and in this case, it's the whole thing!

"I caught a glimpse, now it haunts me."

Fever Ray, self-titled
Immediately after completing a stunning set of live shows, the first they'd ever undertaken (thankfully captured for posterity on the shoddily-titled An Audio-Visual Experience), The Knife announced in 2006 that they were going on a lengthy hiatus, with no activity on the horizon until 2010. It seemed like a rest was well-deserved: Silent Shout wasn't just the record of the year, for me and many others it felt like the event of the year. We'd been treated to something truly special, and waiting until siblings Karin and Olof felt the time was right to return to their decks would give us time to continue to absorb the work they'd already put out. So, the announcement of a single and video from Karin's solo project, Fever Ray, and an almost immediate digital album release thereafter, had the element of surprise well on its side. We'd hardly wrapped our heads around the possibility of more creepy electro from everyone's favourite pitchshift-happy chanteuse, let alone had the chance to have our expectations ramped up with preemptive Silent Shout comparisons, before the record was upon us.

While skin-crawling lead single and track "If I Had A Heart" suggested that we'd be treated to an impenetrably dark and menacing record, beatless tracks shrouded in veils of mist thick enough to make Silent Shout seem like a walk in the park, that's not quite the case. This record is indeed informed by the quantum leap that the siblings made between Deep Cuts and Silent Shout, but it also bears the influence of all three records they made together. The clean synthpop geometry of The Knife's self-titled debut is in effect on "Dry And Dusty" and "Triangle Walks", and there are also hints of mellower moments from the Deep Cuts era, like "She's Having A Baby" and "This Is Now" scattered throughout. While Fever Ray could pass for a Knife album if we were none the wiser, knowing that Olof isn't on board this time does yield some subtle distinctions between this record and Karin's previous work.

Fever Ray is sparser than The Knife's output, and eschews most semblances of dance music for the sake of evocative synth landscapes. I could just be hearing what I want to, but I can almost detect some hints of YMO's electronic exotica. Melodies are understated, but rise through repeat listens with hypnotic certainty. It's nothing if not an atmospheric record, but we shouldn't take that term to simply be shorthand for "the unsettling mood of Silent Shout" or even the funereal gloom which borders on being black metalesque in the case of "If I Had A Heart". The closing track uses a processional rhythm as the basis for a vocal performance by Andersson which can only be described as hymnal, but given that the track's called "Coconut", I'm sure as hell not going to hazard a guess as to what it's a hymn to.

Fever Ray is an album for homes and for forests, but perhaps not the haunted marble houses and chthonian woods which Silent Shout cast us spiraling into. There are hints of nostalgia and warmth to the strangeness, almost as though we're revisiting spaces from childhood at night, seeing them through a glass darkly but rediscovering lost moods and moments, even if full understanding remains occluded.

Bonus tidbits:
-The album art was done by none other than Charles Burns, author of the crap-yr-pants awesome Black Hole comics, which were the inspiration for the hella creepy "Silent Shout" video.
-The contact page of the Fever Ray site has booking contact info, so we might be lucky enough to see Karin take this album on the road.

Fever Ray, "Triangle Walks"