Porcupine Tree

PAGE IN PROGRESS

Steven Wilson’s contribution to progressive rock in the post-classic rock era cannot be ignored. The ’80s saw most neo-progressive bands continuing the Genesis tradition of whimsy and fantasy (Marillion and IQ), as well as the evolution of heavy metal into progressive metal (Queensrÿche and Fates Warning), but Wilson was alone at the time in channeling the moody psychedelia of Pink Floyd, the crunchy tension of King Crimson, and the engaging hypnosis of Tangerine Dream. Eventually, the music would transcend these major influences and become something entirely innovative and important for the genre as a whole.

The Porcupine Tree project started off as nothing much more than Wilson screwing around at home, turning into a full-fledged band when the project started gaining steam through the ’90s. They hit their peak during the ’00s with a three-peat of indispensable modern prog records (In Absentia, Deadwing, and Fear of a Blank Planet), and then an indefinite hiatus on the project went into effect shortly after releasing their final album in order for Wilson to shift most of his focus to his solo career and his work on remixing and remastering albums from many other bands and artists. He expressed interest in working on another Porcupine Tree project someday, but that day is not today!

Porcupine Tree’s Bandcamp page

JUMP TO:
(1992) On the Sunday of Life…
(1993) Up the Downstair
(1995) The Sky Moves Sideways

On the Sunday of Life… (1992) – Rating: 4/10
Click Here for the Full Album Review

The humble beginnings of the Porcupine Tree project were nothing more than a fun, pressure-free distraction for Wilson and his buddy Malcolm Stocks. In 1989 and 1991 they released two cassettes of this material when they realized that other people might enjoy it as well. Long story short, when Wilson co-created a record label with his other buddy Richard Allen, Allen coerced him into releasing his existing work. And lo’ and behold we have On the Sunday of Life…, a glorified compilation of the very best that the two cassettes had to offer.

Basically, this is a joke album. A novelty. A way for funny-boy Steven Wilson to let out some of his funny-boy steam. Unfortunately, this album isn’t terribly funny, so based on that metric alone it’s not a success. The other issue I have with this 76-minute collection of scraps is that it could have easily been trimmed down much further and distilled to just the truly potent, musically interesting parts. But it wasn’t, and a lot of On the Sunday of Life… comprises overlong ’60s space rock drones with no linking thematic continuity to keep the final product from the brink of crumbling in your hands. Or ears. Slapped together with Scotch tape, that’s what this is. The individual tracks lack a feeling of importance, and as a whole — even less so.

Out of 18 tracks, there are just a small handful of gems worth hanging onto. “Jupiter Island” is accessible, whimsical, and poppy, with neato psychedelic guitar and Gene Wene high-pitched vocals. “The Nostalgia Factory” is the only necessary extended krautrock exercise (and likely the best track here) with it’s interweaving guitar and tasteful proggy keyboards. “Radioactive Toy”, despite its length, is engaging and unnerving throughout. Wilson breathe-sings about atomic bombs and then launches into a cool psychedelic jam.

A lot of the rest of the album is filler. Ambient go-nowhere experiments and overly psychedelic, frameless noodling does not a great album make. Most of these types of tracks feel like transition pieces rather than actual songs, and there are too many of them taking up the album’s real estate.

Skip this one. Unless you’re a devoted Wilsonophile, this one is not important in order to capture his essence. And if you must insist on hearing what he was tinkering with in his early days, you’d do much better with the very similar Up the Downstair.

Up the Downstair (1993) – Rating: 5/10
Click Here for the Full Album Review

Better, but we’re not quite there yet. The second album, or perhaps the first real album, seems like a second smaller helping of On the Sunday of Life….

For the defense, Wilson’s production skills are already top-notch in 1993 and, since this album was written and arranged in real time and it’s not merely a compilation of earlier material, the flow is noticeably more cohesive. A shorter album with better flow and less filler? There’s your extra point.

However, Steven Wilson’s Type A personality is all over this record. Don’t get me wrong, this album is enjoyable. “Synesthesia” is a very cool opener (after the spoken word intro track) with a repeating electronic beat brimming with nervous energy, and some searing acid guitar solos. “Always Never” is more psychedelic and groovy Pink Floyd ripoff stuff, but since he’s good at ripping off Pink Floyd he gets a pass. And the rest of the songs alternate between these two types of moods enough times for you to realize that this album has very little in the way of fresh ideas. The title track “Up the Downstair” is ten minutes of robotic high-energy MIDI-file trance that goes on far too long. Same with “Burning Sky”. Then there’s “Not Beautiful Anymore”, a mellow, introspective, slow rock number. Same with “Small Fish”. Same with “Fadeaway”. Rehashed ideas cause diminishing returns.

With respect to Wilson’s Type A personality, Up the Downstair has all the building blocks of a good record that were carefully designed and assembled in a sterile laboratory. Everything is too cold and calculated for me to extract any true feeling from the end product.

My final verdict? Absolutely worth the listen. Worth two listens! Worth 20 listens! But if you call this your favorite Porcupine Tree album, then we’re fucking fighting out by the flagpole at 3pm after school.

The Sky Moves Sideways (1995) – Rating: 9/10
No Full Album Review Yet

Now we’re talking! Porcupine Tree’s third album leans harder into Wilson’s Pink Floyd and Tangerine Dream fanboyism than they ever had before and they ever will again, and the results are fantastic. Finally, Porcupine Tree is an actual band and not just a Steven Wilson tinkering-around-in-his-basement solo project. Finally, an album full of music that not only feels vital, but, all these years later, it sounds surprisingly timeless.

The Pink Floyd connection is super obvious with the track structure. A giant song split up into two lengthy sections bookending the album? Wish You Were Here, anyone? And then the slow build at the beginning of “The Sky Moves Sideways Phase 1” even has a ticking clock in it! And I’m pretty sure that the opening guitar melody was lifted straight from Dark Side of the Moon‘s “Breathe”. Come on, Stevie.

But don’t worry, once the mammoth track unfolds, you’ll be too lost in space to care about possible infringements. Watery guitar licks and echoing drums turn into a psychedelic Tangerine Dream exercise, and then the bongos come in, and then a blistering guitar solo, and then a fuckin’ flute! This nearly 19-minute opening track is a suite that’s chock full of lively and interesting ideas that don’t let up until it’s over.

And then there’s “Moonloop”, another giant track that scares you at first because you, like me, heard the previous two Porcupine Tree albums and you, like me, know that the second long-ass track in an album tends to rehash earlier ideas. And yes, at first it progresses similarly to the opener: same bongos, same acid guitar, but this one focuses more on hypnotic repetition as opposed to the opener’s King Crimson-style psych-jazz improvisation. While the trance tracks of the first two records felt flat and lacking texture, Wilson uses his superb mixing powers to create a much more three-dimensional landscape. Little electronic flurries here, a random percussion instrument there; he adds changes ever-so-slightly and draws you in with little hesitation. It does what a trance track is supposed to do: take you far, far away, man.

“The Sky Moves Sideways Phase 2” is just as good as Phase 1, and almost as long. This time it starts with squiggly synths that lead into the most melodic guitar of the album. As the track builds, themes from Phase 1 recur in a manner that doesn’t necessarily rehash. Way to go!

For my money, the entire album could’ve just been these three tracks and it would have been perfect (and, at 52 minutes, more than adequate for a full-length). The other three tracks, “Dislocated Day”, “The Moon Touches Your Shoulder”, and “Prepare Yourself”, feel out of place among the sprawl. Not even worth talking about! Not here anyway.

PAGE IN PROGRESS – TO BE CONTINUED

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #2 – “Alias Investigations (Part 2)”

* Part 2 of 5 of the Alias Investigations storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #2 – “Alias Investigations (Part 2)”! In the previous installment, Jessica Jones is an ex-superhero who now earns her living as a private investigator. Luke Cage is her bang buddy. He’s also an ex-superhero who now earns his living as a bar owner. At this moment their superpowers are still unclear, although Jones did throw a man through her office door window. Jones is depressed, but Cage seems happy. He’s not.

A woman approaches Jones to enlist her services. Her sister Miranda is missing. After some sleuthing, she stakes out a house and discovers that Miranda is hooking up with CAPTAIN AMERICA! WHAT! Shove off, David Tennant! Already in Issue #1 this story took a turn I didn’t expect. Hot damn!

What new, exciting, saucy adventures await in Issue #2? MAX Comics, baby! Put the kids to bed, it’s gonna get racy. Oooh momma! Let’s crack this bad boy open.

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #2 [December, 2001]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“Alias Investigations (Part 2)”

It’s the dead of night, and Jessica Jones has been standing outside her apartment building for 42 minutes holding a videotape that “people would kill for”. Ohhh, Sweatin’ to the Oldies?! Fuck yeah, gimme. So, in a state of paralyzing paranoia, she’s checking her apartment curtains from the street to make sure that they’re moving due to the wind and not because someone is squatting in her pad waiting to commit the foul act of person-on-person murder. But, she got bored, so she’s going in anyway.

No one is there, and she feels stupid. She doesn’t even think the footage she has is any good anyway. Yeah, probably all for naught. Paranoid for nothing. Let’s check the tape.

Yeah, that footage is pretty damning. The guy ripping out of his civilian clothes and becoming Captain America right there, plain as day. Hmm. What to do. What to do, what to do?

What to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do.

Whattodowhattodowhattodowhattodowhattodowhattodo.

Now there’s a what to do for ya!

So she throws the VHS tape in the microwave and hits a few buttons before stopping herself. She has a moment of crisis.

She regroups on her thoughts at this point. Let’s say she was set up, right? Perhaps Captain America’s enemies sent this woman to get Jones to follow Captain America? But then why would they need her in the first place if they already know who he is? Arrrgghh.

OK, let’s say she was set up, right? And whoever set her up needs the tape? She might be killed if she destroys it? People she cares about might be killed? No, that doesn’t make sense either! Who gives a shit?! Arrrgghh.

What to do what to do what to do whattodowhattodowhattodo…

If word gets out, terrorists might hijack planes and fly right into him. I bet Captain America’s shield can’t withstand a Boeing 777 right to the face!

Ah! OK! Get in touch with that woman again, the one who hired Jones in the first place! She seems dumb and harmless! Maybe Jones can get a better feel for the situation. Yeah. Yeah, ok, let’s do that. OK, it’s 3:30am, but fuck it, right, just call her and make up some excuse for calling so late.

“If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try again. If you’d like to know the number of the last phone call you received, please press *69. lol. nice.“

Well shit. Disconnected number. Jones hauls ass outside and hails a taxi to take her to the address she got from her client. She’s led to a baby clothing store.

Well shit. One place left to go, and that’s back at the stakeout house, Miranda’s address, and finds a crime scene with two cops discussing that a woman was strangled with someone’s bare hands.

Well fucking fuck shit. With nowhere else safe to go, she finds herself at Luke Cage’s place. He asks why the hell she’s there, she says she had a bad night, and he tells her she can’t come around here. “You crazy?” Crazy as a fox! Luke is already with a woman, presumably his lawfully wedded wife, so he tries to chase Jessica Jones the FUCK out of there stat. Door closes. With nowhere else to go for reals this time, she cries in the hallway of Cage’s apartment building in the middle of the night.

The next morning, Jones is outside AVENGERS MANSION where she asks a loudspeaker at the front gate if she can speak to Captain America. “I’M SORRY, THE AVENGERS ARE AWAY ON A MISSION — HELPING TO KEEP THE WORLD A SAFER PLACE FOR YOU AND YOUR FAMILY TO LIVE. BUT WE THANK YOU FOR STOPPING BY.” And then the voice threatens her, so she walks away.

Back at Jones’ apartment building, a police detective named Paul Hall is waiting for her. Too bad it wasn’t “Paul Wall”, but the stars don’t align quite so nicely sometimes, do they? He immediately asks if she used to be a superhero, and after confirming and asking politely what Hall needs from her, he continues the line of questioning by asking if she still has her superpowers. She confirms this too, and he moves on to the real questions. She confirms that she saw Miranda the previous night. Hall is suspicious. He informs her that Miranda was murdered. You can tell Jones isn’t surprised, but she kind of acts like it in that deadpan emotionless way we’ve only seen from her thus far. He asks if this news surprises her, she says yes, but then he lets her know that they have photos of the crowd at the crime scene. Whoops!

THAT COULD BE ANYONE IN THAT PHOTO! DO I LOOK LIKE I EVER LEAVE THE HOUSE? I’M ON PILLS, MAN! DON’T FUCK WITH ME, I MIGHT GO CRAZY! *teeth gnashing* I WOULDN’T HURT A FLY! *feral frothing*

So, yeah, busted! Hall asks Jones to come down to the station. “I hope you’re smart enough to know that using your powers at this point would be a real mistake…”

Final Thoughts

Gee whiz! You can tell I’m into this story by the genuine lack of snarky wisecrackin’ hooliganry that I usually slather into these posts! How is Jessica Jones going to get out of this pickle? And what happened to Miranda’s sister? Is Jones going to have to track down Captain America? Is he going to be all sad and shit? We’ve got a mystery on our hands, boys and girls!

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Liars, Rivers of Nihil, and Faye Webster

You know the drill, nerdmongers! Today I have newish releases from Liars, Rivers of Nihil, and Faye Webster! Words words words!

Liars – The Apple Drop
(August 6, 2021)

I’ve been following Liars’ career for a long time. Fans are apt to compare the band to Radiohead because of their similar moods and their ability to constantly evolve their sound between albums without sacrificing their identities. Liars, however, is less accessible. Once you penetrate through their harsh, somewhat unwelcoming exterior, their whole discography becomes a real treat.

I’m pretty forgiving of even the worst that Liars has to offer, but the Apple Drop is another solid entry in their catalog and I’m here for it. Angus Andrew, the only original member left, was flying solo for a couple years on the Liars project. It’s possible that he’s still alone here since most of the instruments are synthetic, but I’m unsure. His distinctive voice alone always elevates this music above writing off the band as a Radiohead pastiche, but the similarities are hard to overlook.

The Apple Drop is brimming with complex melodies that are fighting hard to remain abstract. Andrew takes his time with his words while the drum patterns want to rush ahead, especially on songs like “Sekwar” where he fucking dares the crunchy and angular drums to go faster. It’s like the older, more chaotic version of the band is trying to break out and trample the newer, more reigned-in and orderly version of the band. And, occasionally, the older version wins. Like on “My Pulse to Ponder”, where Andrew belts out the lines caveman-style (“I found a blade and I sharpened it way close/So it glistened in the moon WHEN I CUT YOUR THROAT!“). He sounds like Thurston Moore gettin’ mean!

And then there’s plenty of what Liars does best: fresh takes on curious, exotic sounds and instrumentation. The opener “The Start” has some electronic, robotic powering-up bloopy-bleepy noise that goes as quickly as it came. Or that cool, peculiar synthetic marimba on “Slow and Turn Inward”. I particularly like “Star Search”, which progresses on alternating tense low/high piano notes, low dynamic rumbling drums, a slight vinyl record hiss, turning into a some free jazz saxophone way low in the mix…and then the coda sounds like something right out of a Man Man album! Or, if you will, Paul McCartney’s “Monkberry Moon Delight”. Fun stuff.

And yet, I give it a smiley face instead of big grinning happy face because this album is an obvious grower. And like all the best Liars albums, the grow is slow.

Early Verdict:

Rivers of Nihil – The Work
(September 24, 2021)

Rivers of Nihil plays a version of technical death metal that doesn’t focus on the dizzying speeds that makes the genre attractive to people who just like their heavy metal fast fast fast fast fastfastfastfastfast. Instead, they build their quick, angular, palm-muted djent riffage around mid-tempo walls of sound and vocal textures, leaning hard into straight-up progressive metal without being completely fucking corny. And with each successive album, they lean a little harder.

Right now, they need to stop leaning. I think The Work strikes the perfect dynamic balance between the clean and harsh singing; the alternating of the soft, delicate, and guarded with the rough, abrasive, and punishing. Sometimes, they even spew forth a pure tidal wave of noise (like the end of “Dreaming Black Clockwork”). Their insular world seems fully developed and realized, and I’m right there in the middle of the space-y, icy scenery that is limned by cover art. Well, not right in the middle. I’m in the cozy little house!

Rivers of Nihil’s distinctive trademark is the occasional use of the Kenny G. smooth saxophone, which has been a point of ridicule for many. But I love the contrast every time! It adds even more nuance and texture, and it avoids bringing to mind the usual tech-death tropes of machinery or, like, blood and guts. Even the cheesy balladry or power chords that pop up from time to time are allowed room to make sense in the context.

And the best part? This is a death metal record that is very melodious – and it’s not at all a melodic death metal record! We have a winner.

However, Rivers of Nihil? Why not “Nihil River”? What a missed opportunity.

Early Verdict:

Faye Webster – I Know I’m Funny haha
(June 25, 2021)

Faye Webster has put her last two albums out on the Secretly Canadian label, but there’s nothing secretly Canadian about her. THAT I KNOW OF! She’s from Atlanta, which is pretty far from Canada. Unless something changed??

Secretly Canadian or not, Webster has made another album of slow, indie, soul-tinged, folky, singery-songwritery music. Maybe it’s the color palette of the album art, but the music evokes strong lazy summertime-at-the-beach atmosphere moreso than her previous album Atlanta Millionaires Club, which evokes strong…I dunno, visions of a woman eating shit, I suppose? Don’t worry! You can click that link, it’s just the album cover! I promise! No seriously! Go ahead! I dare ya.

Anyway, I Know I’m Funny haha has almost nothing but slow tempos, mid/upper register jazz fusion-y piano and/or organ over shuffling drums, twangy guitar melodies, and melancholy singing about shitty relationships and general depression. Honestly, the most interesting parts happen where Webster doesn’t sing at all and the instruments can break out and roam free for a bit of time. Sometimes there are surprises, like the pretty strings and acoustic noodling on “In a Good Way”, and the assertive drumming and guitar-scale melody on “Cheers”. But, most of these songs maintain a clinically even-keeled mood whether she’s singing about love anxieties (“Kind Of”) or loneliness (“Both All the Time”), always with instruments dancing delicately on the cheery edge of the fence.

And that’s fine, it’s on purpose and everything, but as a listening experience I feel as numb as she sounds while she’s singing in my ears. That is to say, perhaps this slow-core indie country singer-songwriter soul stuff isn’t for me. But hey I tried haha

I’ll end with less snark: I caught myself humming the title track when I woke up this morning, and that’s saying something, so more time and an open mind might cause a breakthrough some day. Right now, it’s not the right time.

Early Verdict:

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Action Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #2 – “Superman in Chains”

* Part 2 of 8 of the Superman and the Men of Steel storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Action Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #2! ACTION COMICS! ACTION, BABY! In the previous installment, we see Superman do super things like run away from the cops and throw a wrecking ball through a motherfucking building. Lex Luthor promises the army that he will deliver Superman and he technically did. We ended the issue with Superman pinned against the Daily Planet building by the speeding train that he stopped with his super strong Superman super man muscles. Superman wears jeans.

Action Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #2 seems to pick up where we left off. Let’s get started then, what the hell are you waiting for, huh?

Action Comics (Vol. 2), Issue #2 [December, 2011]
Written by: Grant Morrison
“Superman in Chains”

Check out Superman on the cover of this issue. He looks positively FERAL. Like he’s going to start Hulking out, but alas this isn’t Marvel so there will be no Hulking. No Hulking at all.

We begin as the cover suggests: Superman is constrained to an electric chair with weak leather belts and he looks pretty banged up. Apparently, scientists are zapping him with electricity for, I don’t know, science purposes? Within three more panels he breaks free easily, which is something he should’ve done already, right? Why did he wait until Action Comics #2 came out a whole month later? Loser.

But nah, Superman only breaks out one arm before the scientists zap him again and render him weakened? Unconscious? The scientists all express their surprise at how poorly the electricity is killing him dead, I guess. Lex Luthor is there directing his team, intrigued like a sociopath at how Superman is handling this torture. He suggests next taking a blood sample and then throwing some fluoroantimonic acid on him, which is pretty fucked up actually. It’s at this point that one particular scientist demands what the hell is even going on and why this man is being tortured, and Luthor looks on unphased like some calm piece of shit. After yelling at him for a minute, the doctor storms off angrily and resigns. Luthor cracks open another can of pop and tells the scientists to crank the electricity up to 300,000 volts at 10 amps. Obviously, Luthor should be increasing the amperage, because keeping the amperage low while increasing only the voltage is just going to increase the resistance to compensate. Moron. I thought you were supposed to be good at torture.

Splash him with the acid! Right in the eyeballs! Show no mercy! We can’t be too careful! USA! USA!

As all this is going on, a team overseen by General Sam Lane is in another room shooting bullets and flamethrowers at Superman’s cape with great success! Oh wait, I meant NO success. Sorry, I get those mixed up! The cape is resisting all manner of punishment. Lane is informed that Lois is trying to get into the base to talk to him. He walks outside and she yells at him about [insert things Superman did in Issue #1 here] and that he’s a good guy because [insert things Superman did since 1938 here] and that the army should let him go! General Lane assures his daughter that he’s in good hands. This is the U.S. Army after all! Ha ha! OF COURSE HE’S IN GOOD HANDS, LOIS!

Luthor tells Superman that he knows about some big rocket that’s aimed at Earth like a bullet. He explains to Superman that a planet like Krypton that is possibly full of other Supermans makes him a wee bit squeamish. Luthor justifies his treatment of Superman as an animal. Superman is puzzled by Luther’s mentioning of the rocket and then starts cracking up in a manic fit of uncomfortable hysterics! He now starts taunting Luthor about his puny, squishy human body and his shitty human eyeballs, which prompts Luthor to make the first emotional response I’ve seen from him since the beginning of Action Comics. Don’t you dare make fun of Lex Luthor’s flimsy, ramshackle eyeballs! “SHOCK HIM!” he declares to his team of lickspittle scientists as he crushes his pop can lookin’ like angry Yul Brynner. Meanwhile, outside the base, Lois Lane has an uncomfortable conversation with an army dude named John Corben who has a mustache. He mentions the mustache.

Break his scrawny neck! Show no mercy! Krypton! Krypton!

FINALLY, after wasting all the time sitting there in a state of narcosis, Superman breaks free from his shackles and starts busting up the place! ACTION! After throwing around some equipment, Superman hoists Luthor up by the neck and starts threatening him to give him back his cape. As Superman grabs it, a hail of bullets bounce off as he runs for the hills. “I’m outta here!” he says! Like it was nothing.

As Superman tries to make his way out of the base, he comes across a room with a rocket ship that is emitting a ton of icy blue light and, uh, speaking at him in some sort of Krypton language? With a dreamy look in his tired alien eyes, Superman says as soldiers behind him look flabbergasted “Protect yourself. I’ll come back for you.” So there’s that I guess. The soldiers are still trying to get Superman, but Superman just whips around and melts their guns with his Gun-Melt-Vision and declares that he already said he was outta here!

Check out this fuckin’ elevator nerd.

As he’s busting through walls, making a real ruckus, Lois Lane is in the base trying to get into restricted areas like she owns the place! When the elevator she’s trying to jimmy her way into opens, Superman is already in there with a pile of beat up and/or deceased soldier-types. He grins sheepishly and flies away! DOOT-DO-DOOOOOOO, DOOT D-D-D-DOOOOOOOOOO!!

Next, John Corben the Army Guy with the Mustache goes to some chin-beard named Professor Vale and tells him “we need Steel Soldier more than ever!” This lends me to believe that Steel Soldier is some sort of anti-Superman sex robot? Or maybe just a regular robot? Vale says that research isn’t finished yet! Corben says “Fuck you, with all due respect, Professor Sir!” and storms into the Steel Soldier holding room like owns the place! It doesn’t look much like a sex robot, which disappointments me, but more like a wearable iron suit that Superman could probably kick into the motherfucking sun.

We end the issue with Luthor speaking to some unknown, knowledgeable advisor on a phone. Luther demands to know who this guy is and why he knows what he knows! The last panel shows some creepy, tentacle-y space station thing.

Final Thoughts

This Superman fella cannot be stopped, so why are these people spending a ton of money trying to stop him! It’s fine! He works at a newspaper company! Get a hobby, nerds! Plant some flowers or something!

I’m not particularly at the edge of my seat yet with this one! I don’t care if Lex Luthor wants to kill Superman! I don’t care if Superman lives or dies! I don’t care who Lex Luthor’s secret contact is! I don’t care about the creepy space station! I don’t care about John Corben’s mustache!

See you next time at Action Comics Issue #3 anyway!

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Lars Hollmer, Albert Marcœur – When the Temperature Gets Cooler, the Music Gets Weirder

This time of the year finds me gravitating more toward the weird, the experimental, and the avant-garde. Living in Chicago, I experience all four seasons, and it’s interesting how the time of year causes one to crave certain styles of music more than other times of year, and how it differs from person to person. I do know, by frequenting a lot of loathsome music subreddits, that many music fans tend to associate autumn weather with folk music like Elliott Smith or Bob Dylan (which I don’t really understand), or gothic metal like Type O Negative or Paradise Lost (which I understand much better). Others enjoy Halloween-type atmospheric soundscapes like John Carpenter’s soundtracks or minimal wave, which I also do to a certain extent. Primarily though, for me, it’s fuckin’ avant-progressive carnivalcore and Mr. Bungle ripoff music! And that’s what I’ve been listening to within the last week as I continue to dive head first into the moody chill of October.

Lars Hollmer

Accordion. Checkerboard shirt. Denim. Some sort of log cabin background. Yep, I’m sold!

This doofy-looking Swede you see on the right with the accordion (or above, you sly mobile cellular phone user) is Lars Hollmer, one of the founding members of Samla Mammas Manna, which was one of the core bands associated with the Rock in Opposition movement of the late-’70s. Did any of that mean anything to any of you? It shouldn’t! It was a movement for nerds.

Samla Mammas Manna was the Swedish answer to Frank Zappa. Technical, diverse, musically and lyrically silly, never took itself too seriously. Lars Hollmer’s solo output is similar, but with extra emphasis on accordion-driven melodies and experimental forays into European (and possibly other regional) folk dance music. At its essence, it sounds like carnival shit. It’s great.

I’ve always liked the accordion. I know it’s right up there with bagpipes (which I also like) as everyone’s least-favorite musical instrument, but people are stupid. It’s a surprisingly versatile instrument! Jazz! Do you know Koby Israelite? He makes some engaging modern klezmer jazz music. It’s good, I swear! What about Gogol Bordello or, hell, Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly? That’s punk music with the accordion, my friend. Heavy metal? There’s an entire folk metal genre, come on now. Korpiklaani, Eluvitie, Ensiferum, Finntroll, Alestorm, you name it. Indie rock? Beirut and the Decemberists. They Might Be Giants.

WEIRD AL YANKOVIC!

The accordion rules, dinguses. And Lars Hollmer sort of rules, too, I suppose. The thing about his solo albums, though, is that they’re all fragmented to the point where it feels like rejected cutting-room-floor tracks from Samla Mammas Manna sessions. It’s possible that they could be! But with about 10 studio albums worth of good material available, I can’t complain too hard!

Hollmer died in 2008. Perhaps he had his accordion cremated along with him. His friends and family probably couldn’t wait to burn that dreadful instrument!

Albert Marcœur

It’s like a Frank Zappa with Harry Potter glasses.

If Samla Mammas Manna was the Swedish answer to Frank Zappa, then Albert Marcœur is the French answer. It is my ambition to uncover all the worldly answers to Zappa. I want to find the Iraqi version, the Dutch version, the Namibian version, the Kiribatian version, etc. etc.

Since Marcœur is from France, it stands to reason that all of the lyrics are in French. And since I peaked at a second-grade reading level in high school French class, much of this is lost on me! However, his oddball music more than entertains, and his use crazy illustrated cover art, plinky toy instruments, huffin’-and-puffin’ background noises, and sardonic-sounding vocals are every bit as Zappa as one would expect from someone who has been critically appointed as the “French Frank Zappa”. To that end, I’m satisfied. He even kind of looked like him back in the day! He obviously found the appellation to be a high compliment. He even ran with it and made an album called L’apostrophe in 2005.

Marcœur’s catalog isn’t huge like Zappa’s, which is a shame because he has a lot of ideas swirlin’ around that croissant of a head of his. His music is a recent discovery for me, so I’ve only had a chance to absorb his first two studio albums. The man has also scored a good share of movie soundtracks, which is probably every bit as zany as his regular work. I’m looking quite forward to digging deeper into Marcœur’s catalog while I keep a lookout for the Laotian answer to Zappa.

Other Quick Thoughts

Industrial Music requires Industrial Hair, son.

-I’m already thinking about putting together my Top Albums of 2021 list. I might even be ambitious enough to make it to 50 this year, but, more likely, I’ll be hitting 25 and then putting out another separate list of the 25 runners-up. Who the fuck wants to read a Top 50 list by some shithead punk no-name blogger like me? The world, that’s who! Unless something comes out in the next three months that dazzles my dick right off my pelvis, I already have my #1 album slotted! What is it gonna be? ALICE COOPER?? IRON MAIDEN?? MAROON 5?? NICK JONAS?? Oh man, the suspense!

-If you’re looking for the Brazilian answer to Zappa, it’s totally Arrigo Barnabé. Check him out, the dude is nuts!

-I wish I could get into Skinny Puppy harder. It’s almost like the very fact that it isn’t 1986 anymore makes their music less creepy somehow? Being born in 1987, I got the tail-end of the ’80s aesthetic when my brain started being able to retain memories, and a lot of the ’80s synthpop had some sort of unearthly, nefarious edge to it that oddly attracted me even as a kid. Getting into industrial music in the mid-2010’s, I think I missed the boat entirely on absorbing this kind of dark electro-industrial goodness in the right place at the right time. It’s some nice stuff, though, but I don’t crave to hear it often.

And with that, this is Tom signing off with: And That Certainly Was a Post!

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Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #2 – “Alias Investigations (Part 2)”

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #2 [December, 2001]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“Alias Investigations (Part 2)”

Final Thoughts