2009 revisited (part 2)

Today has been a good day. Why?
1. I went to the hairdresser and it turned out very well.
2. Though last night has made my throat soar and I've found out that you shouldn't drink cider unless you aren't going to bed anytime soon, lots of relaxation and sleep has saved my head from aching.
3. I've dived into my iTunes and dug out some old favourites from last year.
Spring in Denmark this year is weird - really weird - this week we had snow. Snow in May! that's a definite first. Also, the weather this month has been sunny and 20 degrees, combined with rain, 5 degrees and lots of wind. Slightly frustrating but nice in the way that it keeps you pumped for spring. It's coming!
Spring last year reminds me of three bands and I've rediscovered them all today - they might not be as fresh as they were last year but they certainly haven't lost much charm.

First up are Dirty Projectors. Bitte Orca was definitely an extremely fine record and I was slightly disappointed to find out that DP weren't coming to Way Out West or Denmark. But as things have turned out, I might get to see them live this summer. For the first time ever I'm going to Roskilde Festival, the biggest and boldest festival in Denmark. I'm both excited and nervous - so much needs to be sorted out - but every time I think or watching Dirty Projectors play a track like the one above at a (hopefully) sunbathed festival-site makes me smile and forget about all my anxiety.

I have a very clear picture in my head of walking in my hometown in beaming sunshine while listening to "Black Rainbow" from St. Vicent's "Actor" album. But though that particular track holds a weirdly important yet meaningless memory for me, "Marrow" still stands out to this day. It's such an amazing track - and in this abouve video, probably my favourite TV performance by anyone last year, it takes on epic proportions. The bass saxophones completely make it.

During the more quiet moments of last year Grizzly Bear were an infinite soundtrack. They are the kind of band you can devote a day to and then only listen to them for a good while. Veckatimest didn't impress me as much as I wanted it to but that's probably because I hold Yellow House oh, so dear. But as the months have gone by, Veckatimest has grown on me. As a rule of thumb I tend to lose respect for bands when they help out on a Twilight soundtrack - but really, all things considered, it doesn't matter when the music is this good. Above is another Letterman performance of great excellence.

Gig review: The Hidden Cameras, Voxhall

For a number of reasons, I don't really do reviews. Firstly, I have never been satisfied with any review I've written - there's always more to be said, more to be revised and often I might change my mind halfway through or shortly after I've written the review. Secondly I don't like being a bad guy - I dislike reviewers and their endless star-giving and rating systems. It's impossible to make an objective review - don't deny, it is - so often it just seems pointless to judge a record or a gig. You can say what you think but it will rarely be valuable for anyone but you and the people who know your taste. So why exactly am I trying a review now? because I feel I need to. For my own and other people's sake. This particular gig was reviewed by the Danish music magazine GAFFA - but I really don't feel like they did it any justice. So while I still remember the details, here we go:
I've been to many gigs at the Voxhall venue. Not because I particularly like it as a venue, more because they simply have the most good bands playing. It's located in Aarhus, a one-hour drive from my hometown. The gigs I've attended there have all been very different - from a calm indiepop gig with Camera Obscura (where the most exciting thing to really happen was when a drunk Irishman suddenly decided to invade the stage) to the noisy darkness of The Horrors and their many, many fangirls. I expected this gig to be something quite special - for weeks I wondered what the crowd would be like and if there would even be one. Because let's face it - not many people, not even in Denmark's next-largest city, know Canada's most sexually broad-minded cabaret outfit. If I wasn't the nerd that I am, I certainly wouldn't have heard about them either. But I'd heard stuff about their live shows - maybe even seen a YouTube video of them playing live while being blindfolded - and for reasons inscrutable their latest album 'Origin:Orphan' ended up being one of my favourite albums last year. This was a gig not to be missed, even if I was going to be the only person in the audience.
Well, at least I wasn't going to be completely alone. My gig buddy agreed to go with me and we arrived as soon as the doors of the venue were open. From the beginning it seemed to be a different gig for Voxhall - the ticket collector seemed to try and tell me indirectly that nobody would be coming tonight - as he told that the only fun he was going to have was when checking my ticket. Incredibly, a group of about five, sort-of normal-looking women had also found their way to the venue (and the bar). So we weren't going to be completely alone, my friend and I.
As the time went by a few more people showed up - each of them looking completely different from what I would expect. No flamboyant gays or young, indie-curious people like myself. Just plain, "normal" people, some old, some young(er). It was a weird gathering.
That didn't stop the support band from being an interesting acquaintance though. Dressed in all white, the Danish band Men Among Animals were an all dancing, all clapping, all tambourine-playing slice of niceness. Their greatness made me wonder if some of the audience members were only there to see them. As things look now, though, I remember very little about their appearance. Compared to the headliners, their performance became an experience of parenthetical proportions.
As my friend and I were asked to jump down from the stage (it is preferred place to sit when waiting, you know) and a blue certain hid the stage, the excitement began building up for real. And it was awarded, as a few more people found their way to the floor of the venue and my friend and I didn't feel that alone anymore. The background music stopped playing - a blue light appeared from behind the curtain - and suddenly the gig started. Behind the curtain, the dramatic opener of the before-mentioned album's title track crept up and few moments later the curtain was pulled away and a band appeared, consisting of seven members, carrying such instruments as keyboards, bass, guitar, drums, cello and trumpet. This wasn't traditional, this was special. And the first thing leading man Joel Gibb had to tell the audience? "Kom nærmere". Yes, that'll be "come closer" in Danish. While the audience might normally stay a little away from the stage when the supporting band is playing, everyone except my friend and I (we do have a front-row tradition - why wouldn't we?), they still kept a distance between themselves and the stage at this point. They came a little closer - and from then on it became obvious that no matter how into the audience was or wasn't, the band was going to give it everything anyway.
After the dramatic beginning, the band geared down a little - playing the b-side 'Pencil Case' secondly and then proceeding into another track from 'Origin:Orphan' followed by the old single 'Awoo'. That's where it started for me - the weird feeling of witnessing something spectacular, something special. The cellist started dancing, throwing himself around while energetically playing his unhandy instrument and the trumpet player challenged him. Then the cellist challenged the singer and his guitar. It was like watching a great duel - for many of the songs, at least one or two band members had something going on that wasn't just playing their instrument. Jumping, dancing, singing or just fooling around. Then they played a track loaded with screaming (which I have yet to decipher what was) and throwing each other around, the trumpet player once being on the floor while holding onto the cellist's leg. Joel Gibb comes off as a mad preacher, a genius of theatrics, songwriting skills and general silliness. The Hidden Cameras don't take themselves too seriously and as the gig progressed, my friend turned to me and said "this beats everything!", only to a few moments later approach me to say that he thinks they're about to do the "blindfold thing". They were indeed, because - as their leader put it - they needed an eyebreak ("as recommended every 24 minutes"). They put on a lovely rendition of "Smells like Happiness" and then let their eyes see "beautiful Danish people" again for an energetic version of 'In The NA', the silliest song from 'Origin:Orphan'. The preacher said 'Tak, Aarhus' numerous times, hid behind his amplifiers and shouted things in a language I couldn't figure out what was. Then he jumped around and got pulled around by his trumpet player during 'The Little Bit', before jumping from the stage and approaching random audience members to sing the 'uuuh' part of the song with him. An internal group dance was introduced during 'Underage', making for even more of the many joyous laughs I'd had the pleasure of going through during the evening. The keyboardist Laura then had a few instructions for the last song on the setlist and decided to give us these in, well, Danish. The audience had to do, yes, a dance - and while a such thing would normally make it shiver down my spine with horror, it seemed amazingly appropriate. As if you were a part of the band, having fun, here and now. The band returned, all jumping for the pumping 'Ban Marriage' and then they were gone again. The tiny audience kept clapping, though, and the band returned once again for a different version of the very same song that opened their set. Weirdly appropriate and suddenly it was all over. Though the sad remains didn't include confetti or fireworks, it certainly felt like it. It was a party for the few, invited people and it was the kind of experience that made you wish you could hire a band to play for you every day. I certainly wouldn't mind having my own Hidden Cameras to entertain after a boring school day. Oh, and did I mention it all sounded bloody good?

Party is the new loud

As things go, it's been quiet for a while here on the blog. But I'm still going strong and I think I might have regained my inspiration after a month of lovely gigs and general awareness of what a fantastic thing music is. There'll be more on that later. For now, here's a video and song I have become quite fond of over the last week. As the title of this blog post suggests, it is indeed a way of trying to get this blog up and going again - with a party, making it go from quiet to loud. (Sorry, this is the last time I'll try to be clever.)

2009 revisited (possibly part 1)

So now we're in March and I have yet to finish my post on 2009. I doubt it will ever be done - I began writing it but at the moment I just don't have the discipline to sit down and go through all the music that shaped last year and I have no idea when I'll have the possibility to do that (probably at a time where it isn't relevant at all anymore). Also, I'm not a music journalist - and I haven't listened to all or half of the albums/tracks that came out last year, so I don't know how valuable my opinion would be.
Strangely, though, I have actually revisited some of the music that reminds of 2009 lately. Part of the reason is surely that I'm finally feeling spring coming up - the snow is slowly melting, the sun is shining and bird song can be heard in the distance. When things like these happen I feel like reversing time and re-experiencing all the niceness of last year's spring and summer. A couple of other things though - like the big math test I'll have to cope with on Thursday - puts me in a strangely melancholic and sigh-inducing place. Camera Obscura match perfectly with that cocktail as the joyful sound of their catchy pop sound makes me smile and their forever yearning lyrics make me sad.

Guilty pleasures

I know people who say you can't have guilty pleasures (when it comes to music) and I know people who basically aren't aware of the term's existence. Also, I know people like myself, who do feel slightly ashamed of liking certain music. For me this isn't really a fact of me being embarrassed because of the music I like, more it is I unexpectedly enjoy something that I would normally consider below the quality level of the other music I listen to. Sometimes I really like music that I feel is a bit, well, "crappy" or "cheap-sounding". What music am I talking about? the less shameful examples include:


I've been trying to convince myself otherwise for a long time now but I still cannot deny the fact that this song is a very catchy and excellently executed piece of pop music. Whenever it's played on the radio I can't help but turn up the volume and sing along, while goofily continuing whatever I'm doing (whether that's taking a shower, brushing my teeth or washing my face - yes, our radio is indeed in the bath room). I've got quite a love-hate relationship with Lady Gaga's other singles and I don't like any of them half as much as I like this one. Sadly, I've yet to actually hear it played at a party but when it happens I'll be doing my thing.


The last time I saw the amazing Owen Pallett live (that's another story), the main character of a magical evening (the supporting names were Lightspeed Champion, Sam Amidon, Nico Muhly and Beth Orton... yes, wow indeed) entered the stage while miming and singing along to this song while setting up his equipment. Strangely, it has given this song a whole new dimension to me. I don't particularly like Alicia Keys and I never have, though I definitely recognize the fact that she's got talent. Somehow all things seem to come together with this track - the heavy beat (which definitely makes the song for me), the heartache lyrics and the glossy video combined equal a fairly fine pop song that gets stuck in your head and refuses to leave.


Is Jay-Z bad? I don't know. I usually don't listen to rap or hip-hop - I believe there's something good in every genre, yet I just haven't really found anything in that area that made an impact on me. It's been months since the last time I heard this song but in the media lately there's been a heavy debate about the use of Autotune in the recent series of the X Factor (a programme that sometimes also turns out to be a bit of a guilty pleasure entertainment wise - even though I absolutely hate it with a passion) and it made me think of this track that I never really listened to enough when I found out about it. Back then I heard it on the radio once and thought 'this isn't bad actually... and I quite like its message'. So, I gave it a re-listen and I still think it's really damn cool.

What these three tracks have in common is the fact that in the long run they'll probably drive me crazy and I'll hate them just as much as I tend to hate lots of other mainstream pop music. Only they haven't reached that state yet - and I'm glad they haven't, there's nothing worse (there most certainly is but you get my point) than listening to the radio when there's nothing you secretly enjoy.

Michel is back!

Michel Gondry is not just my favourite music video director, he is one of my all-time favourite people. Whenever something new shows up from him it is quickly confirmed what an inexhaustible imagination and mind this man has. Or should I say boy? there's a documentary about him out there carrying the name 'I've Been 12 Forever' and it certainly fits with his playful and childish approach to things. His aesthetics often come off as amateurish, maybe even a bit cheap - but that's only because he uses such simple and old school tricks to create visually compelling movies and videos unlike anything else.
Lately, the Frenchman with the awesome mind hasn't been much in the limelight - especially not on the music video side of things. But a little while ago something new finally showed up. While the song isn't really my cup of tea, the video still manages to fit it perfectly through its simple, yet effective, fresh and fun theme. It's been compared to a Sony Bravia ad and I've always quite liked those, so that's only a good thing. Also, it's good to know Monsieur Gondry is still going strong.

This is the new thing, apparently: vinyl and blood galore

Hmm, musicians act weirdly these days. While the far-too-talked-about subject of illegal downloading and sharing of music keeps pushing the creaters and artists towards interesting new directions when releasing their music, some definitely seem more intriguing and thought-provoking than others. Examples? here are a couple.

Parenthetical Girls - Privilege
I'd heard a bit about these artpoppers releasing a new album, and that significant cover art has certainly popped up a few times lately, when I've been searching for other things. But it wasn't until later on, ie. a few days ago, that I actually found out about how this album was going to be released. There's a concept: a series of EPs released throughout 15 months, concluding with the fifth in May 2011 and in the end making an album. Also, physically, the album will only be available on vinyl. Limited to 500 copies from the band's own website... oh, and did I mention that these 500 copies will be hand-numbered by a band member in their own blood?
I guess that's supposed to be the interesting part, yet I'm much more tempted by the idea of slowly releasing an album this way. Nobody will know the exact flow, mood or general direction of the album until a year after the first part of it is released. I'm ready for the patience, because this could definitely become quite an interesting series to follow.

Xiu Xiu - Dear God, I Hate Myself
My relationship with Xiu Xiu is a little complicated, not to say non-existent. While I neither love nor dislike the few songs of theirs that I've heard (the one above was stuck in my head for an entire day last week), there's just something weird, really weird about them that makes me turn away and be intimidated by the thought of listening to more of their stuff. The idea of them releasing an album called 'Dear God, I Hate Myself' and making that above video certainly doesn't make them seem more appealing. Like many other bands do these days to make people want a physical copy of their album, Xiu Xiu release a special edition, limited to 100 deluxe vinyl copies. These all come with handmade chocolate(!), possibly relating to the fact that the album features a song called 'Chocolate Makes You Happy', and 21 of them a handmade shirt with 'Xiu Xiu for life' written on it in real blood. Apparently blood is the new black when it comes to making your record interesting... hmm. Still, I'm not convinced as in whether Xiu Xiu are genius or just plain weird but I guess it'll come. Whenever I've had a love/hate relationship with a piece of music it has mostly turned into a straight love or hate relationship a little later on. And 'Dear God, I Hate Myself' is in that position now, so I'll just have to wait and see.

A triple(!) album to be excited for

You guessed it. Of course the title's talking about Joanna Newsom's forthcoming 'Have One On Me' album, which is released on February 23. It's been quiet around the girl with the harp for a while but speculation has started long ago about her next album - an album that contains about two hours of music, making it an album for three CDs/LPs.
I've liked Joanna Newsom for a while but mostly in quite radical doses. Yet I listened to the three new songs revealed from the triple album. They - and especially the one above - made me realize a couple of things.
1. Joanna Newsom is more awesome than I thought.
2. Joanna Newsom sounds exactly like spring.
3. I want spring.

Yes, "'81" has reminded that the winter has lasted long enough. I really, really want the snow to go away now - it's not pretty anymore, it's just sad. And with the freezing cold it's almost impossible to walk properly outside without half-falling most of the time. I just want sunshine and a few more degrees - possibly 5 or 10, that'd be extremely nice. Pretty please?
Oh, and before I forget:
4. I'm very excited for 'Have One On Me'.

Track of the day #11

I'm slowly starting to realise that my way of dealing with winter this year isn't by listening to lots of heavy indie rock but rather by treating my ears to lots of lush, pretty and soft music. As well as Beach House and that 'Here Lies Love' track, I've today listened to a great big amount of Swedish singer-songwriter Jens Lekman's work and it is really brillant. Especially this song and its silly yet awesome video have stayed with me and won't seem to leave my brain.

Track of the day #10

I didn't expect this but I have just discovered that David Byrne + Fatboy Slim + Florence Welch equals pop perfection. This track sounds both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time and is six minutes of pure, epic pop perfection.

Visual goodness by Sigur Rós

A good amount of time ago I remember trying to write a very long, thought-through piece for this blog about the importance of what visually accompanies music. I never finished it but some of the experiences I've had lately has led my thoughts in the direction of maybe trying to get it written anyway. As mentioned, the new Blur documentary was a visual delight, and today I saw another great music + visual combo - the Sigur Rós film 'Heima'. It is a very special band film, since its breathtaking visuals document so much more than just a band. The film is as beautiful as anything you'll see, as Sigur Rós tour their homeland of Iceland with free, unannounced gigs and anecdotes regarding the island. I have wanted to go to Iceland for a number of years and my interest was definitely increased even more by this film. The nature, the people and all those things that seem so special about Iceland is brought to us by a band that sounds exactly the way I would imagine the island sounding had it been a sound. Also, I really appreciate the fact that this film actually seems to understand that watching a group of children flying kites is a just as appropriate visual while listening to Sigur Rós as an image of the band on stage (even though that is also a quite intriguing sight). The YouTube snippets don't do the film that much justice, so I really do recommend getting your hands on a DVD version. Then get some chocolate, a cup of tea, a duvet and something nice and comfy to sit on and watch. I guarantee it'll make the winter seem less depressing.

No Distance Left To Run

Ahh, the nostalgia. I might only be 17 years old and someone who was unborn when Blur first emerged. But still, little music makes me as nostalgic, filled with joy and at the same time melancholic and thoughtful as theirs. I have mentioned that I went to see them in Hyde Park this summer and that they were my favourite band a few years back - but somehow, as things are now, they are so much more. Their music is now connected to the memories of the summer 2009, of the sunshine, of London, of the rain, of old times and of that special, special gig. I have childhood memories of Blur, yes - I remember being six or seven, watching the video for 'Coffee & TV' on television while loving the video and having absolutely no interest in the music whatsoever. Later on I saw more videos of theirs, including 'Song 2' (I knew the 'woo-woo' part for years while having no idea what the song was called or what band had made it) and being confused that 'the blonde guy, isn't he the singer? then why is the boy with the glasses singing in the milk carton video?' - I knew Blur a tiny bit but my interest didn't occur for real before my interest in britpop emerged and I spontaneously bought their 'Best of' - I don't want this post to be too long, I'm off to bed, so let's just say that the rest is history and my interest has been through many interesting stages ever since.
This evening I went to see 'No Distance Left To Run', the first real in-depth documentary made about the entire Blur story up until now. And quite frankly, it took my breath away. It contained everything I wanted it to contain - as well as some fantastically beautiful images. I laughed, I almost cried (I'm not the kind of person who cries in the cinema, you know) and had the loveliest warm feeling in my stomach when I left the cinema accompanied by the sound of 'Swamp Song'.
I've been thinking about Blur quite a lot lately and how I cannot wait to spend another summer in London with their albums as my soundtrack. Only now, I think they might just make their way onto my winter playlist as well. Especially this song:


After all these years I still keep realising that it is probably in my top 10 of favourite songs ever... but that's another story.

While you wait...

I'm afraid it'll take a little while longer before my post(s) on the musical year of 2009 is/are done and ready to be uploaded, so in the meantime I'll point you in the direction of this, my favourite pop song of 2010 so far. It's a grower definitely - when I first heard it I didn't like it at all - I thought it was too commercial and unoriginal and the video didn't really do anything you felt like you hadn't seen before. But I couldn't really forget it either - I returned to it a couple of times and kept thinking 'do I like this? Is it really, really bad? or is it good?' - then new year's eve arrived and as I decorated my room before the party I couldn't help but choose this song as the soundtrack. It doesn't revolutionize pop music in any way but it highlights everything that's good about something being catchy, upboat and impossible to get out of your head. I haven't listened to it that many times and I could probably sing along to it without forgetting the lyrics a single time. In music class today we learned about the elements and classic structures of a pop/rock song and this song is a perfect example of what pop music is so good at. I wish they would play this on the radio instead of 'Party In The USA' by Miley Cyrus.