[Continued from part 1].

I foolishly restricted myself to one CD’s worth of running time, so I guess I got what I deserved, but making this playlist was hard. I wisely decided, right from the beginning, not to delve into alternative takes or demos, but half way through the process I realised I had to omit Rock ‘n’ Roll (1975) entirely if I wanted to keep the playlist under 90 minutes.

Since the album is basically covers, I didn’t really mind that it wouldn’t be represented here. I think it’s a stand-alone piece of work that deserves to be heard, if only because Lennon sounds like he’s really enjoying himself recording this stuff. The complicated history behind the album is also worth researching.

Lennon’s solo material is so dear to me that to get 80 minutes of non-singles I had to exclude many great songs and a few albums’ worth of covers and outtakes. That, I think, speaks volumes about the quality of his music.

God/Hold On/Isolation/Well Well Well [John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band]

John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band is my favourite Lennon solo album and, arguably, his best. Every song in it is indispensable. Sadly, Mother and Love (two of the greatest moments of the album) were released as singles in the US, so they’re out.

God definitely belongs right at the beginning of this playlist. It’s the song that “marked the end of the 60s”, after all, and a monumental moment in Rock history. Then it’s on to Hold On and Isolation, both songs about his relationship with Yoko Ono and, finally, Well Well Well, which I chose because it illustrates the effect of primal therapy on John’s singing in this album.

Give Me Some Truth/How?/Crippled Inside/Oh Yoko [Imagine]

Imagine, the song, is out, because it’s a single. I Don’t Wanna Be a Soldier is, unfortunately, too long and had to be left out. That leaves me with Give Me Some Truth, a powerful political message that fortunately doesn’t get as topical as most similarly political songs in Some Time in New York City (1972).

Crippled Inside and How? belong to the category of deeply personal songs that POB was full of. Oh Yoko I chose because it’s one of the most enjoyable and catchy examples of Lennon’s otherwise somewhat tiring (to me at least) and seeminngly endless series of songs about Yoko.

Bring On The Lucie (Freda People)/One Day (At A Time)/Out The Blue/I Know (I Know) [Mind Games]

Once Mind Games – one of my absolute favourites - and Meat City - which I was never crazy about anyway – were out, I thought I couldn’t get much out of this album. But then I listened to these songs again and, much like it happens with the actual album, what at first seems like a second-rate Lennon song, well… pretty much remains a second-rate Lennon song. Mind Games is an album that took a few plays to grow on me, but when it did, I started enjoying it immensely.

Freda People takes me back to peace songs with strong anthemic value, in particular Instant Karma or Give Peace A Chance. One Day, Out the Blue and I Know are the songs I enjoy the most in this album these days, but they’re really all fine, once you understand that this isn’t so much a personal or political statement like the first two albums, but a more relaxed pop album.

Going Down On Love/Bless You/Scared/Nobody Loves You (When You’re Down And Out) [Walls and Bridges]

Walls and Bridges is often called the second worst of Lennon’s solo albums (after the much-hated STINYC), which, I suppose, could be true if you absolutely have to rank them from best to worst – although some would argue that the Double Fantasy and Mild and Honey material is weaker than that in WaB. To me it seems like another example of laid-back songwriting. It is true that the album lacks focus in comparison to, say, POB, much like Mind Games before it, but #9 Dream (a single) is directly comparable to any of his best songs. Also, Whatever Gets You Through The Night: another single, another great song.

Just like most Lennon songs, these have a story behind them. Going Down On Love (yes, it’s a double entendre) and Bless You relate to his temporary separation from Yoko. Scared could be POB material if you strip away those damn horns and Nobody Loves You is a touching song of self-doubt with some great vocals that effectively capture that feeling.

I’m Losing You/Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) [Double Fantasy]

(Just Like) Starting Over and Watching the Wheels are the best songs in this album, but were both singles.Woman was another single. Being a joint effort with Yoko, Double Fantasy isn’t particularly rich in Lennon material, so I’m Losing You and Beautiful Boy were a small compromise. They’re both good songs, especially Beautiful Boy, which captures John’s love for his song better than any diary of home video would.

I’m Losing You/Grow Old With Me [Milk and Honey]

Again, the best songs from this John/Yoko album were released as singles (I’m Stepping Out, Nobody Told Me, Borrowed Time), so the two picks were mostly chosen for sentimental reasons. Grow Old With Me is also a good last song for this playlist, I think.

Hello and welcome to the first entry in the “Friday playlist” series, where I post a playlist and talk about what’s in it. On Fridays. But not necessarily every Friday. Sharing music online is illegal, but sharing a sequence of songs is definitely not and it’s just as fun. So please refer to your own music collection for the actual music. Think of it as a mixtape, only without the mixtape. What you really get is the plastic box the cassette comes in and the paper that has the order of the songs written on it.

To kick this off, I decided to go with John Lennon, since I’ve been listening to his solo work almost obsessively for the past couple of months and… not so obsessively for about half a year before that. The songs I choose from for this playlist are those contained in his solo albums, minus the ones released as singles, because who doesn’t know the singles?

Most of Lennon’s solo stuff you should already be familiar with, anyway. What is more, there are many songs that are very popular, despite not being released as a single. But hey, this is my first attempt at a playlist, so I’ll make it easy (end enjoyable) for myself.

Sources used for the making of this playlist:

• John Lennon singles UK (jpgr.co.uk)
• John Lennon UK/US singles (bagism.com)
• John Lennon post-2000 remixed/remastered catalogue: This is what I have, but the original cds are fine, too. Vinyl is even better.

Note: I did not use unofficial releases or official compilations of outtakes (such as the 1986 Menlove Ave. or the 1998 John Lennon Anthology ) as sources for this playlist, as I wanted to keep this simple for myself and you. If you like other versions of these songs better than those found on the albums, then feel free to replace as you see fit. Also, Unfinished Music Vol.1 and 2 & and Wedding Album are also out and you know why if you’ve listened to them (in short: it’s not music).

JOHN LENNON, NO SINGLES

The songs appear in order of release. I decided against proper sequencing, mainly because Lennon’s work has a strong autobiographical, confessionary tone to it. Listening to his solo albums in chronological order gives you a good sense of what his life was about from the late 60s up until his death, much like reading a diary would. There is some shuffling around of songs that belong to the same album, but songs from the same album are not divided.

Arbitrary restriction: The items on this playlist must fit in a CD.

1. God [4:10]

2. Hold On [1:51]

3. Isolation [2:51]

4. Well Well Well [5:59]

5. Give Me Some Truth [3:16]

6. How? [3:45]

7. Crippled Inside [3:49]

8. Oh Yoko [4:21]

9. Bring On The Lucie (Freda People) [4:11]

10. One Day (At A Time) [3:27]

11. Out The Blue [3:22]

12. I Know (I Know) [3:56]

13. Going Down On Love [3:55]

14. Bless You [4:37]

15. Scared [4:37]

16. Nobody Loves You (When You’re Down And Out) [5:09]

17. I’m Losing You [3:57]

18. Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) [4:04]

19. I’m Losing You [3:22]

20. Grow Old With Me [3:07]

Total duration: 77:46

Notes:

Fits in a 80-minute CD. Or even a 90-minute cassette, if you’re so inclined.

Songs 1-4 are from Plastic Ono Band (1970), songs 5-8 from Imagine (1971), songs 9-12 from Mind Games (1973), songs 13-16 from Walls and Bridges (1974), songs 17-18 from Double Fantasy (1980) and songs 19-20 from Milk and Honey (1984).

This is where I would normally post my comments on the songs, their sequence, the reasons why I chose these particular ones, etc. But this post is getting very long, so I’ll compile the comments into a separate entry instead. It should come some time tomorrow.

Update: Here’s part 2.

Preface: This post is pretty random and basically an excuse for me to vent because Ghosts ‘n fucking Goblins for the NES is kicking my ass and the anger has to be channeled somewhere. It is also the kind of post I’ve tried to steer clear of ever since I started blogging again a few months ago. But I just can’t resist ranting this once. Consider it a warm-up for what will hopefully be a series of much more interesting posts in the near future.

Actual rant begins now:

So I am in this music store, minding my own business, with a copy of the splendid rerelease of Pacific Ocean Blue in hand, when I catch a glimpse of Revelations, the third and, thankfully, final album by Audioslave. Now the cd was just sitting in the discount shelf, among countless other cds. It wasn’t prominently displayed or anything, so I shouldn’t even have noticed it, right? Wrong. I wish I could say I hate the group – that would justify the frustration I felt as soon as I laid my eyes on that album cover – but the truth is I’m so indifferent to their music that such strong feelings are simply not present.

There are, however, a couple of things I hate about Audioslave and these are Chris Cornell’s voice and the fact that they cover Rage Against the Machine songs with vocals by the aforementioned singer.

Hello, I’m Chris Cornell and the editor of this blog doesn’t approve of my singing.

Allow me a brief flashback. It’s late 2002, I think, and Audioslave’s eponymous album is out. Being a big RATM fan, I buy it, listen to it, then wait for the next one, since it is obvious to me that the different styles of music that each part of the group represents don’t match that nicely.

Three parts RATM and one part Chris Cornell, who I must admit was completely new to me back then, Audioslave sounded awkward in their first album. They continued along the same path in their second one, which was the final one I purchased, hoping for a tighter, less boring sound. I never got the third one, so you can probably tell how that turned out.

Surprisingly – or, come to think of it, not so surprisingly – their albums sold lots of copies, they were awarded some Grammy awards, whatever that means, and even became the first American rock band to perform an open-air concert in Cuba, which must’ve been sad and disappointing for Cubans waiting for some ‘merican rock music after all those years. Serves them right, I guess.

So, anyway, Audioslave disbanded in 2007 or something, a day that must surely have been a joyful one in my life, but just can’t quite remember because I didn’t really give a crap by that time. The only memory I have of Audioslave is Chris Cornell’s annoying, raspy voice and his shitty cover of a RATM song (or maybe it was two; the pain is too much to handle, I can’t remember clearly).

I haven’t listened to anything by Soundgarden, or any of CC’s solo work – and I sure as hell won’t after Audioslave – but his voice causes my ears to bleed and my heart to race in fear. Allright, so it might not cause panic, but I still don’t like it. What made RATM function so well, apart from their strong political message, was the quality of their music. Rap and rock fused in an awesome, explosive sound that wasn’t just unique, but in a way also representative of the message.

Audioslave was a mixture of RATM, this time with a more classic rock feel, and whatever Cornell was doing in the 80s and 90s, I suppose. It also lacked a direction. Vaguely political lyrics mixed with pretty standard rock lyrics, all of it sung irritantingly by Chris. An obvious attempt to appeal to both RATM and Soundgarden/Cornell fans and, as is usually the case with “super groups”, lots of generic music with nothing to distinguish it from other mediocre groups other than its members.

But I’ve said enough. Now is the time for a comparison. Below is a video of Audioslave covering Killing in the Name, a standard RATM number:

And here’s the original:

See what I mean? No? Well, that’s OK, this comparison is kind of meaningless, anyway.

I’m starting to run out of fuel, but I will say this before I post this rambling piece of data: Their instrumental RATM covers are very interesting, especially when there’s a new solo involved.

Note: Strictly personal opinion, certainly misinformed, meant to be only slightly offensive, please don’t sue, but feel free to Martha. Comment if you will, just don’t expect me to like Audioslave.

REFORMAT THE PLANET is a feature length documentary which delves into the movement known as chip tunes, a vibrant underground scene based around creating new, original music using old video game hardware. Familiar devices such as the Nintendo Game Boy and Nintendo Entertainment System are pushed in new directions with startling results. 

Using New York as a microcosm for a larger global movement, “Reformat the Planet” maps out the genesis of the first annual Blip Festival, a four day celebration of over 30 international artists exploring the untapped potential of low-bit video game consoles. With floor-stomping rhythms and fist-waving melodies, trailblazers of the chip tune idiom descend upon Manhattan to pen a new chapter in the history of electronic music.

The trailer features music by Nullsleep (“Salvation for a Broken Heart”, “On Target”), Martin Galway (“The Neverending Story”), and Random (“Micawber’s Moan”), all composed on classic video game consoles.

The documentary by 2playerproductions serves as a very informative introduction to the lo-fi world of chiptune music for the uninitiated. It features interviews with prominent members of the scene and videos of live performances from the 2006 Blip Festival. The film explores the relationship between chiptune music and video games, provides insight on the fusion between visuals and music and ultimately demonstrates the adaptiveness of electronic music and the ability of musicians to use bits of technology completely unrelated to music as a medium of expression. A must-see if you ever liked the sound that used to come out of your video game console or home computer.

You can see the whole thing online over at Pitchfork.tv for a limited time only. There’s also a ton of videos from Blip and other live shows on 2playerproductions.com. Enjoy!

Photo by optionthis.

I should begin this post by saying that this isn’t the account of my impressions as a member of the audience. I wasn’t in Coachella, I didn’t see Kraftwerk perform live. I did, however, obtain a recording of the concert thanks to the series of tubes we call the Internet and this is what I think of it:

Kraftwerk played their fourth US show for 2008 on April the 26th at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival. Florian Schneider was absent, just like he had been for the rest of the tour, and the set list was a variation of that used in the tours before and after the release of Minimum-Maximum.

Set list: (Intro) / 1. The Man-Machine / 2. Planet Of Visions / 3. Numbers / 4. Computer World / 5. Tour De France / 6. Vitamin / 7. Autobahn / 8. Computer Love / 9. Showroom Dummies / 10. Radioactivity / 11. Trans Europe Express / 12. Metal On Metal / 13. The Robots / 14. Boing Boom Tschak + Music Non Stop

This time around, there is much less material from Tour De France Soundtracks (only the eponymous track and Vitamin), which is a shame, while the rest of the list is pretty similar to that of the previous tour. The usual thematic duos were there (tracks 1/2, 3/4, 5/6, 11/12, 14) and also present were Showroom Dummies and Computer Love, which have made a welcome return since 2006.

What struck me the most when I first listened to this concert was how quickly it was over. Everything somehow seems more concise, or, as I realised after listening more closely, abbreviated. It could be due to time restrictions, or the slightly faster tempo that is apparent on some of the tracks, or even Florian’s absence; most of the songs have also been rearranged, which results in different song structure. For example, Computer Love sounds very much like a rearranged version of the rendition found in The Mix. On average, each track is around one minute shorter than the Minimum-Maximum version. The sound is the standard sound of the recent tours with a few variations, so no major changes have been made there.

The Man-Machine sounds cold, without much enthusiasm or spirit, even for a quartet of robots. Defragmentation is probably in order. The KW sound and feel does come through to the ears of an avid listener, but I doubt anyone who approaches this music for the first time will find much interest in this particular performance. That is not to say of course that the concert is entirely without its merits; the alterations in sound and structure are interesting to any fan and, hey, this is another KW live. Unremarkable when compared to the dozens of amazing KW lives, but worth a listen or two.

Photo by yamchild.

Eugene Renfield, a friend and Kraftwerk listener, has kindly provided a second opinion:

On first listen, Coachella was disappointing; aurally vague (irrespective of the bootleg), hesitantly performed. But repeat listening revealed much nuance to appreciate in that diffuse soundscape: the Kraftwerk frisson somehow still crept in. And although little of it sounded special in any way, their unique musical qualities were still there to admire – with or without Florian Schneider in the lineup.

Trust another KW fan to smash your review with his minimalistic, three-sentence-long assessment of the concert.

The internet is a wonderful place. So wonderful, that it is in fact the only place where watching a viral video with weird Japanese dudes doing disgusting things can lead to an amazing discovery. It took me a while, but I eventually managed to find the source of the dreamy song that served as the soundtrack to the previously mentioned video.

i love you baby! is a “Swedish eclectic audio / electroclash project” and they’ve made some of their music available for download from their site. I won’t pretend to know anything about this music other than the fact that I like it. Go give it a try, you might like it too.

Some song picks: Daddy’s on a rocket (beautiful, haunting, melancholic melody; listen to this one), Mon Tou Tou (lighthearted, part French, extremely aggressive use of the drum machine, more addictive than sugar), Grand Pop 1977 (Kraftwerk sound-alike), B5A627, Dorian.

PS: Delicious lead singer.

Links:

• Official site
• MySpace
• Some videos
• More videos

I’ve been listening to Magical Mystery Tour back to back to back to back for the past few hours. It’s now been permanently burned into my brain. The first side of this LP (I own the CD version) is fucking weird. It might only seem that way because I don’t do drugs. But still… W-e-i-r-d. Also, amazing music. Did I mention I find it eerie?

And here’s my current favourite:

The second half of the album, unlike the first, won’t destroy your mind. The contrast between Paul and John’s writing is striking when you listen to Penny Lane right after Strawberry Fields Forever. The first a seemingly happy-go-lucky song, the second a much gloomier composition. There are some other great singles on the same side. The anthemic All You Need Is Love features a gazillion rock stars on backing vocals. I think I am somewhere in there, too.

Photo by mediaeater.

While looking for news on the sudden absence of Florian Schneider from April’s US tour, I came across a very interesting article by Mr. Martin Belam, titled “When does it stop ‘being’ Kraftwerk?”, wherein he debates the existence of a hard core in the Kraftwerk lineup. Are Ralf and Florian essential parts of Kraftwerk, he asks, or is it still Kraftwerk when only one of the founding members is around? And would it still be Kraftwerk without any of them present? What if four random musicians (or one, or ten, or twenty of them) decided to appear on stage and perform Kraftwerk songs?

A brief look back at the history of the quartet reveals many changes in the lineup, especially during the earlier years. This excellent chart summarises the various changes up until April 2008, when, of course, Florian Schneider, a founding member, didn’t appear to perform live. Even Ralf Hütter, the other founding member, had left the group for some time in 1970. And I can only imagine the fans’ surprise when Wolfgang Flür and, years later, Karl Bartos (the other two pieces of the classic, most long-lived and most prolific Kraftwerk lineup) left Kraftwerk.

Ralf and Florian have always been an essential part of Kraftwerk, perhaps even more so than the rest of the members. So the real question is, do people go to Kraftwerk concerts to listen to Ralf, Florian and the gang jam on their synths, or do they just want to listen to their music? Decades under the influence of pop culture naturally prompt one to think the former is the case.

Kraftwerk, notorious for their reclusiveness, have always strived, it would seem, to avoid being identified as pop icons. Their priority is their music, not their image. They aim to detach themselves from their music, or at least those parts of their personalities that are not responsible for producing it and would interfere with its message. And yet, despite their best efforts, the absence of a member sparks discussions and speculation among the fans. Have Kraftwerk ultimately failed in their quest to remain musicians? Have they become the Showroom Dummies they famously describe in one of their albums? And have the fans pieced together an image that doesn’t reflect the group’s intentions?

It’s my opinion that it all comes down to the listener’s point of view. If one considers Kraftwerk a popular music group [the term "pop music" is used in its broader sense in this post], then every fluctuation of the lineup is of utmost importance. Pop music demands that the bond between the composers/performers and their music is sacred and mostly unbroken (with covers, remixes, etc being the exception). Kraftwerk will always equal two spoons of Ralf and Florian, sometimes a pinch of Wolfgang and Karl and perhaps some Fritz and Hennig. Stefan Pfaffe (2008 touring member), is a taste that can’t possibly become part of the Kraftwerk recipe.

But if one is to perceive Kraftwerk as a creative entity whose essence is its music – and a parallelism to composers of classical music might not be that far off the mark – then you’d have no problem listening to that music being performed by other artists. This point of view is clearly the one the musicians themselves choose to maintain, unless of course their apparent aversion to celebrity status is a systematic (as well as successful?) plan to attract even more publicity to themselves, which I highly doubt. Watching Ralf or Florian perform live suddenly becomes a matter of appreciating their skills as performers and paying your respects to them as composers of the music they perform.

The compromise is not that hard to make (at least not as far as I’m concerned): Watch Kraftwerk perform live as popular musicians for as long as they choose to operate under that template, but be open to new interpretations of their work. The originals will always be present in the studio albums. Their music, however, deserves to be (and is) more than pop music.

This, of course, is an extremely multi-faceted issue that involves a range of topics from the concept of intellectual property, to the philosophic division between appearance and essence, to the roots of pop culture itself. I can’t even begin to mention these without feeling they’re way beyond the purpose of this blog post (not to mention my own understanding), so it’s time for some closing words.

A few days ago I read (and scoffed at) someone’s perception of Kraftwerk as an idea. I can now safely proclaim is that if I ever get the chance to watch Kraftwerk live, I’ll be a happy witness of their attempt to break through the barriers of popular music into something greater.