Starring
Andrew Gabbard, Bayonne, Black Decelerant, Juniore, Malka, Marvin Wilson
The Front Runners
Reflections Volume 2 : Black Decelerant
Black Decelerant are Contour and Omari Jazz, and they work magic into their ambient, electronica, mildly seasoned with jazz.
Sometimes writing about music feels like listening to a portrait painting. That’s not how it works. Music has to be heard and words just reduce it, providing reasons not to invest time in an artist’s work. That’s the case here. There are no influences I can detect that would give you a feel for the scope of the music here, no genre that would give you a touchstone to cling to.
I could tell you that the duo’s avowed intention for this is captured in their Spotify bio. They say they “explore spiritual jazz traditions through contemporary tone and texture, fostering sonic meditations on themes of Black being and nonbeing, life and mourning, expansion and limitation and the individual and collective.”
I’m sure they do but, here’s the thing. It doesn’t matter. This is some of the most soothing music you’ll experience if you just give it a chance. The effect on me was physical. As I listened, without understanding how the music worked, I felt tension float away. My shoulders softened and my breathing slowed. I relaxed.
It wasn’t a cumulative effect either. From the opening track ‘three’, it was a strangely soothing affair. Not even the non-sequential numbered titles could disturb me. The combination of static infused drones, tapped percussion and a melody that seeps through the ambience lulled me into welcoming submission. ‘One’ introduces something that you’d recognise as a bit of jazz bass but it manages to be both central and incidental to the whole piece at the same time. ‘Six’ becomes a lovely piece of music, the kind you might find on a Cafe del Mar deep cuts compilation. Does it become just a little noodly on ‘five’ and elsewhere? Maybe, but it preserves the tone and mood.
This is music that reaches you from some far away place when you’re weary of your struggles. Welcome it with open arms.
Taster Track : Six
Trois, Deux, Un : Juniore
Juniore capture the essence of traditional French pop, and it’s a source of constant pleasure.
France is a foreign country. So, apparently, is the past. Put the two together and you’re doubling down to make something unusual and exotic. There’s no attempt to market this album for an English audience. This is as French as a Jaques Tati film, countryside chateaus and beret wearing onion sellers in striped tops. If you were to wander into a Parisian wine bar on Friday night, this is what the house band would sound like.
The sound of the past is everywhere across this record. It’s in the thin, deliciously mono sounding, music. It’s in the repetitive simplicity of the tunes and their melodies. And, of course, it’s in the magic of the ye-ye feel.
Above all the delight of this album comes from its warm and unavoidably sunny sound, free from the darkness of modern concerns. It’s the soundtrack to innocence abroad.
In a completely different style, this has the joyful explosion of an early Undertones record. ‘Deja Vu’ is the kind of music to convert a dance floor into a single pulsating mass. The descending runs in the chorus of ‘Dans Le Dos’ are just one of the many touches that will win hearts and minds. Opening track, ‘Le Silence’ is naggingly infectious, the sound of black and white pop videos where everyone shakes everything they’ve got for all they’re worth.
Look to this album if you like the sound of something that is retro, stylish and ineffably cool.
Taster Track : Mediterranee
The Chasing Pack
Ramble and Rave On : Andrew Gabbard
Andrew Gabbard, sideman to The Bl;ack Keys, reveals his pop side once again in this collection of radio friendly songs.
But first, if I were to take you to a dark, comfortable room, blindfold you and put on this record, you’d know without me telling you that it was American. Not that Gabbard is singing in a Texan accent or anything, but there’s an indefinable difference between American and UK pop. It’s as big as the difference between US and UK TV, and as inexplicable too.
This is good, timeless, radio pop that is confident in its own strengths. More importantly, it’s the satisfying music of a man who’s been in love with pop since early childhood and who understands, and has access to, the magic key that unlocks it for others.
It has that American 70s feel, epitomised in ‘Magic Taxi’ - relentlessly bright, cheerful and cheesy but stopping the right side of bubble gum. It’s music for grown ups that reminds them of their musical past.
‘Just Like Magic’ is a combination of dirty, but unthreatening, guitars and angelic vocals. ‘All Right Mama’ is in a similar vein and reminds me of Joe Walsh’s solo work. There’s a 70s falsetto running through ‘If I Could Show You (Then You Would Know What I Mean)’ that could come straight from the early works of 10CC. He doesn’t do doo wop but, if he did, it wouldn’t be out of place in ‘Everywhere I Go I Don’t Belong’.
There’s nothing to dislike here, and it’s all impeccably done, even if it doesn’t stir strong passions. All it’s missing is the stand out song that has you humming all day!
Andrew Gabbard. Pop disciple. Follow him.
Taster Track : If I Could Show You (You Would Know What I Mean)
Temporary Time : Bayonne
Bayonne brings together introspective emotions and sweeping, rolling synth pop to enjoyable effect.
Warning : sweeping statement alert with no apologies!
Americans don’t ‘do’ synth pop in the European tradition. There’s no equivalent to early Depeche Mode, or Pet Shop Boys, in their back catalogue. Looking further back, they’re not able to make chamber music or music in the romantic tradition. For the most part, their pop lacks the stately formality of, say, a waltz. What they do better than anyone is the cinematic.
In Bayonne, they have a man who comes close to European synth pop. In fact it comes as a shock when you recognise or remember that he’s not French, but a Texan. He makes music with rich, sumptuous melodies that would feel at home behind velvet curtains in a 17th century chateau.
Bayonne is a sensitive soul in a synthpop suit, Bryan Ferry dressed up as Vince Clarke. You feel that if the clouds in his life parted he would be making some of the sunniest, warmest synth pop around. ‘Must Be True’ starts off a rolling wave of a record, as he works through his feelings in the first of a number of sadly melodic tunes.
Lyrically, it’s less direct, occasionally sounding like one of those Facebook posts that lack all context. You know, “And I thought I could trust him”, or something of that ilk. I think it’s a coincidence, but my preferred track is ‘Is It Time?’ which has the greatest proportion of music compared to words.
Vocally he’s vulnerable but when the words threaten to drag you down, the music, particularly the jaunty rhythm to ‘FK’, gently pumps you back up again. These songs never sound maudlin. You’re never allowed to wallow in them.
All told, this is a pretty, embracing and strangely comforting album.
Taster Track : Is It Time?
Anatomy of Sight : Malka
Malka’s take on synthpop is bright and colourful, with enough earworms to sustain your waking hours for some time.
This is an album that goes right back to basics, not just of pop but to the time when we lived in caves and wielded clubs rather than visiting them. The songs here are built around rhythms that attract attention and melodies and will be sure to communicate your message to an illiterate community.
Its bright and colourful sounds sound like the accompaniment to a Young Adult cartoon, perhaps pulled from the pages of a Manga comic. Comics, though, are short term sources of pleasure and rarely have a lasting impact. That may be the issue here too.
The songs are a radio producer’s dream. They’re immediate, accessible and a lot of fun. There are tunes here that could go viral instantly, infecting your waking hours and your dreams too. They’ll appeal to pre-teens for their catchiness and to Radio 6 listeners for their cleverness.
There’s a ‘but’ though. The songs are so upfront with their likeability factor that they stray towards two dimensional caricatures rather than satisfying as fully drawn characters. Like Lene Lovich in the 70s, they’re songs to get you noticed without keeping you in the spotlight.
In the short term though, enjoy the tuneful and twitchy sounds of ‘Matriarch’. Risk the irritating earworm to enjoy the movement triggering qualities of ‘What You Get Out’. Venture deep into the quirky synth pop confection that is ‘Out Of Body’.
Come to this album for moments of pleasure and then move on to something more lasting.
Taster Track : Matriarch
Colours : Marvin Wilson
Marvin Wilson’s collection of relaxed Ibizan tunes is pleasant enough but ultimately as memorable as the person you stood next to in the queue this morning.
From a listening perspective there’s nothing much wrong with it, unless you’re looking for something that holds your attention and stimulates feelings that are more than just impatience. It’s by no means dire, but it suffers from prioritising style over substance.
This is an album that wastes no time in getting down to beats and business with ‘Phantom’. As the album progresses though, you realise that you could start it anywhere, its unvarying anonymity lacking any reflective falls or building crescendos.
Ultimately, this is a form of incidental library music, full of big ideas but with something missing in the delivery. It’s music for the soundcheck, useful for checking equipment levels but not so good for entertaining the masses. It’s the kind of music to be played as the background to the corporate buffet for a crowd of bright young marketing things who don't have a deep rooted love for music. They know, and Wilson has realised, that whilst music may be an integral part of the club experience, friends, drugs, alcohol and an atmosphere of heady release play an equal part.
These are tunes that are full of big ideas, but something is missing in the delivery. That may be the sense that the music has emerged from a solo jam session, improvised rather than composed with heart and feeling. It could be because the sound of something like ‘The Carnival - and elsewhere - is thin. Maybe it’s the tired but repeated use of synthetic sax to add texture.
There are some minor pluses. It has the nostalgic feel of 70s electronic music, complete with the quiet joy and satisfaction of discovering a new sound. Krautrock’s influence can be heard drifting in and out. A more beefed up commitment to this would have improved things.
And that’s where I was going to leave this review. But I have something to confess. I listened to this album slightly out of sequence. ‘End of an Era’ is a 28 - 28!! - minute centrepiece and I decided to skip it and listen to it later while I typed. And the music worked really well in that context, drifting in and fading out as my concentration turned to the words on the page. It didn’t quite redeem the experience but it certainly made more sense heard (not listened to, but heard) in that way.
I’m not sure that would be enough for Mr Wilson to appreciate this as a good review (in any sense!) but it is enough to make it the longest piece I’ve ever included on the Taster Tracks playlist.
Taster Track : End of an Era
Playlists
As ever this week's Taster Track playlists can be accessed at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7cSveL7NpVp1xgrKxPe4av?si=SkFlSnvySeuYFpgG0WJFmA or via the Spotify link on the Home Page.
The link to the Youtube playlist is https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwV-OogHy7Eh_sy55y6i18Qj7w_Z3CQft
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