LISTENING ROOM

MERZBOW
24 Hours A Day Of Seals [Dirtier Promotions]

If you are into black/death metal and grindcore, Merzbow may be your next leap upwards in the evolution of noise. It may also be your point of no return. His new CD, 24 Hours A Day Of Seals (one of BigO's Albums of 2002), is actually a four-CD boxset powered by a guitar, laptops and synthesiser. It’s mesmerising, overwhelming and completely blurs the line between punishment and pleasure. (Yes folks, Merzbow has previously recorded two volumes of music called Music For Bondage as well as having written two books on The History of Bondage.)

Masami Akita aka Merzbow has been experimenting with noise since the '70s. Among his favourite metal groups are Burzum, Immortal, Napalm Death, Carcass, Enslaved, Sattricon, Unholy, Emperor, Beherit, Soulgrind, Taake, Odhinn and Morbid Angel and he counts extreme heavy metal as a primary influence. Of course, the industrial influence is there as well with Throbbing Gristle or SPK.

24 Hours has been called the "most satisfying" Merzbow album. That’s probably wishful thinking on the part of exhausted critics who had to deal with his recent Merzbox, a 50-CD box which retrospected 20 years of his music. Merzbow is exceedingly prolific and keeping a perspective of him is near impossible. 24 Hours wasn’t the only Merzbow release in 2002.

At the same time, it’s easy to see why this album can be called "satisfying." From the first track, Good Morning Azarashi, a flanging guitar loop hits you like a tropical squall for 14 mins. You feel almost refreshed and cleansed. Other longer tracks like Scarletstripped Clean Guitar is 20 minutes of calculated guitar fury, And the epic 44-minute Charcoal Gray Clouds is a phenomenal meditational exercise in the eye of an aural storm.

Unlike a lot of metal, Merzbow’s music isn’t about anger or the release of it. It’s about the possibilities of sound and, in this case, whether noise cannot be enjoyed as music.

As Merzbow once said: "There is no difference between noise and music in my work. I have no idea what you term ‘music’ and ‘noise,’ it’s different depending on each person. If noise means uncomfortable sound, then pop music is noise to me." — Philip Cheah

TORI AMOS
Scarlet's Walk [Epic]

so i let Crazy take a spin
then i let Crazy settle in
kicked off my shoes
shut reason out
he said "first let's just unzip your religion down"
do you think just like that
you can divide
this You as yours
Me as mine
if the rain has to separate itself does it say
"pick out your cloud"
you give me yours i'll give you mine
i can look your God right in the eye
you used to look my God right in the eye.
something is with us i can't put my finger on.
(from various songs in the album)

Tori Amos took a walk through America. I took a walk through Tori Amos. Tori Amos went for a walk with America. I went for a walk with her. Where is America? Whose America? The one with gentle pianos and gentle strings, a continuous flow of melody. The one where introspection wins, and where winning is not the point. The landscape peopled by stories, not the sky blocked by billboards. The one where sadness is greater than anger, and where anger seeks to understand. The sound of Tori Amos's sinuous voice is the sound of a restless America searching for paths below the bombast.

Tori Amos' lines, like her music, sits between obliqueness and clarity, struggling for a way out. That perhaps is the best place now. There is a clarity needed to understand the ultra-complexity of the entity that now calls itself post 9-11 America. But clarity that believes too much in itself becomes the black and white mindset manifested by all that war talk.

It is the in between space that Tori Amos finds herself in, and it is in this space where her beauty shines. Some might find at 18 songs the album too long and full of fillers, but for me the album is a book, a diary, a minor journey. When does a journey become too long? When you no longer wish to search. when you no longer love travelling. The expanse in which to find the details, that is the value of the journey. Travel on, rider. — Sim Pern Yiau


THE MELIGROVE BAND
Let It Grow [endearing records]

The Meligrove Band is a Canadian three-some already expert with all those killer hooks and great sixties pop-rock feel by this their second album. Its fun fun fun in the sun all the way but they can rock hard too when they want to.

But as a band that's going the way most rock is going now (and rightly so), by bringing in other instrumentation, they are not as successful as say, Mercury Rev. But then again who is?

They are really not experimental in that sense, but more about giving u a good rocking time. A great companion album to our very own Force Vomit. – Sim Pern Yiau

GODSPEED YOU! BLACK EMPEROR
Yanqui U.X.O. [Constellation]

Remember those World War II footages of bombs falling over cities seen from the P.O.V. of the bomb hatch? Remember those few seconds of whizzing silence before the explosions? Well, if anything, Montreal's post-rock nonet, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, have managed the impossible, the sound of impending doom. I have called their music apocalyptic before and after four releases, they have consistently given us that sense of beauty and dread, that zen moment when you are hanging on a branch about to fall on the tiger below and then you reach out for the cherry.

And, of course, the music is apocalyptic. As the album's cover artwork points out, every major record company is linked to a military technology corporation that produces the kind of arms and unexploded ordnance (U.X.O. or landmines and cluster bombs) that's set to give grief somewhere sometime in the world.

The album consists of three song blocks. 09-15-00 is a pair of tracks referring to Ariel Sharon's provocation of another Palestinian intifada. Rockets fall on Rockets Fall reverses the Godspeed habit of slow-build-up until crescendo, by having the maelstrom first with the music scaling down and tapering off. It's more ominous as it suggests the anxiety of bombs about to explode again. Mother****er-Redeemer is another pair of tracks, an epic and balanced melding of the band's classical and rock influences.

Yanqui U.X.O. is a quieter-than-usual Godspeed album but it's designed to be eerily quiet, a soundtrack to an impending war perhaps. Van Morrison once coined the phrase "Inarticulate speech of the heart." Godspeed has riffed on that and they have now achieved an inarticulate speech from the gut. (8) — Philip Cheah

IRON MAIDEN
Edward The Great [EMI]

"Scream For me Long Beach!" I closed my eyes as I held the washing mop which acted as a mic stand firmly and lip-synched 2 Minutes To Midnight. Every metalhead would know whose echoed words they belong to. Iron Maiden are the heavy metal band with a relevance and influence on young bands starting out. Bruce Dickinson is one of heavy metal’s powerhouse vocalists. A practising fencer, author of a children's book and now an accomplished part-time pilot with a commercial airline, he has put a brand on Maiden’s every epic tune.

The Singapore/Malaysian restless youths in the late '70s and '80s embraced Maiden’s style with open arms. Images of grandeur and fantasy that were canvassed in the lyrics had even inspired some bands to follow the trend set by the masters. Though some detractors would argue about the operatic vocal style, Iron Maiden have succeeded in paving the metal genre in a certain way. Galloping bass, twin guitars harmony attack and intelligent and epic lyrics.

You might not remember the last Iron Maiden greatest hits release from EMI but there are a few unexpected prime choices here. There are three songs from the under-rated Seventh Son Of The Seventh Son; and one track from the Blaze Bayley (the singer that briefly replaced Bruce Dickinson) album, The X Factor and Virtual XI albums respectively.

Yes, there are no signs of the epic Rime Of The Ancient Mariner, no sign of Where Eagles Dare, nor the historical relevance of Alexander The Great from the Somewhere In Time album. Nor that the fact there was no inclusion of the Paul Dianno tracks. That was Iron Maiden’s first singer who delivered the tunes in an almost punkish manner — a unique approach by a metal band that was ahead of its time.

But there is the live version of Fear Of The Dark, taken from the Rock In Rio album. On it, you will get a glimpse of 250,000 people singing along. That alone is worthy of the replacement of the classics mentioned above. — Adam Md Yusop

PORCELAIN
I've Got A Really Important Thing To Do Right Now But I Can't Do It Cause I'm Asleep [Talitres/ Drunk Dog]

BOB RIVERS
White Trash Christmas [Atlantic]

THE HIGH COST OF LIVING

With GST confirmed to rise to 5 per cent on Jan 1 2003, it will mean an additional burden to bear of $1.32 billion a year, forever.

The government has also refused to restore CPF cuts. Which means the 1999 CPF cuts, which cost Singapore workers $7.5 billion in earnings a year, remains for a fourth year. That’s a total of $30 billion that workers have sacrificed so far.

Workers wages have also been frozen by order of the National Wages Council. Living in $ingapore is a high cost affair. And WORKERS ARE THE ONES ASKED TIME AND TIME AGAIN TO BEAR THE BURDEN AND MAKE THE SACRIFICE.

What you can do is click on the banner below and singalong to one of the Top 10 best songs ever written and performed by a Singaporean. Spread the word.

SINEAD O’ CONNOR
Sean-Nos Nua [Hummingbird Records]

Ever since I first heard her incredible voice in one of X’Ho’s radio programmes, I’ve been hooked by O’Connor. From the very beginning I’ve felt she was always more than just a confused, angry screamer. It’s hard to believe that when we follow the media stories of her rantings and ravings, but it becomes clear when we listen to her sing. What gives her singing great beauty is that her anger (at various things) comes from great desire — desire for freedom, for communication, for life.

In this album of Irish traditionals, all that finally comes through. In a way it’s inevitable that O’Connor would be drawing strength from her country’s vast folk resources. In this age of global homogeneity, rock has a real danger of betraying its freedom roots to become another tool by which the Anglo-Saxon-American cultural machinery whitewashes individual and community differences. It would be inexplicable if a non-conformist like O’Connor doesn’t react to this, even if she was only reacting at a subconscious level.

O’Connor is first and foremost a singer. Nothing Compares 2 U shows too that she can be a great interpreter of songs, letting what lies within the lyrics and the melody surface through her voice. That is exactly what she does on this album. Putting aside the slight (but effective) musical experimentation by producers Adrian Sherwood, Alan Branch and Donal Lunny, the strength of the songs rests in O’Connor’s ability to let atmosphere and a sense of historical timelessness infuse the stories she tells.

The other side of timelessness is timeliness. In a strange way, these old Irish tales of lost loves and regrets are an apt response to the world as we’re facing today. In Paddy’s Lament, a 19^th century Irish immigrant to the US, in flight from hunger, joins the American Civil War. But in this song he now sings: "Here ye boys, now take my advice/ To America I’ll have youse not be coming/There is nothing here but war/Where the murdering cannons roar/And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin."

But lest one thinks that these old tales are only full of pain and sorrow, O’Connor herself in the sleevenotes provide the best reading of how these songs should be heard: "I consider all these songs magical prayers and therefore not sad songs at all. They are only sad to those who cannot feel the true ghosts of the people who are speaking through the songs. Love…enduring love, is the lesson they are giving and therefore, utter joy." A bit hippie, a bit sentimental perhaps, but just put on the CD, and let her voice begin. All doubts evaporate. — Sim Pern Yiau

SALVO BETA
Abrassive Stuttering [Some Odd Pilot]

Creating art and music in the postmodern world is fraught as much with dangers as it is laden with possibility. One might choose to take an axe to old forms, or assemble collages from traditionally apposite sources. Emerging in the late 90s, intelligent dance music, or IDM, as it is popularly billed, is a decidedly postmodern construct. In some ways, the term is a no-brainer--how could music intended to make you sweat or feel sexy ever be smart?--in another sense, it's a defiantly impudent assertion. By juxtaposing opposite qualities, the moniker conveys reflexive irony.

By naming his album Abrasive Stuttering, Salvo Beta aka Sean Wolfe marks out a similar kind of sardonic distance. Fans who already find the work of IDM practitioners (Autreche, Aphex Twin, Kid 606) forbidding would probably give an album called Abrasive Stuttering one glance, and then a wide berth. Is this guy crazy, or what?

For his part, Wolfe pulls no punches. His 73-minute album kicks off with a discordant bolt of disjointed, lacerating beats before settling into a boomy, techno beat that sounds like a cousin of Alec Empire's music. Loader isn't really stuttering, but its drones certainly sound oppressive and foreboding. Wolfe then moves on to Eating the Last Marshmallow, which slows down the tempo a bit, but is nonetheless unrelenting in its drill-like assault. Interestingly, from such dour beginnings, the album shifts gear to embrace moments of beauty. Shift has an almost hip-hop skeleton, while Network's flirtation with melody achieves the kind of epiphany heard on some of Mouse on Mars's best tracks.

If you play Abrasive Stuttering real loud, a strange thing happens: the beats and drones become bigger, not just decibel-wise but physically. How Wolfe achieves this is hard to fathom, but this illusion is one of the record's highlights. Ironically, in these same moments, Wolfe often fails to pull back, allowing the discomfort quotient to rise to painful levels.

This is not mainstream music, and would never have the historic or cultural significance of a Rubber Soul or an Endtroducing. But art and music has myriad branches and tributaries that demand exploration, and even the small streams sing siren songs to navigators. Salvo Beta's gone down one of these, and found a fascinating ecosystem it's just starting to study. (Some Odd Pilot, 3711 N Ravenswood #146, Chicago Il 60613) (8) Ð Lee Chung Horn

BADLY DRAWN BOY
Have You Fed The Fish? [Rock]

Badly Drawn Boy's follow-up to 2000's brilliant "Hour of Bewilderbeast" (if you should want to call it a follow-up considering that his recent soundtrack for the motion picture "About a Boy" stands on its own merits) is very much down to the production. Like "Bewilderbeast," "Have You Fed the Fish?" opens with an esoteric track, but then proceeds straight to the title song with the grandiosity of a mid-'70s arena rocker. That's not to say his first album didn't have its grandiose moments, but here Damon Gough approaches this record with a little more self-realisation (meaning confidence) in his songwriting skills and a lot more studio shine. Deep down however, he's still that sensitive troubadour with a clever, self-deprecating wit -- his heart nailed to his sleeve, breaking hearts as his heart gets broken.

"Have You Fed the Fish?" is more focused with far less whimsical acoustic folk, but Gough's lyricism is unmistakably melancholy, humorous and a little self-indulgent all at once; he even turns down Madonna's affection in "You Were Right." As expected, there are plenty of playful twists, but they're a little different than in the past. The accompaniment to "The Further I Slide" mimics Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing" note-for-note, while "Tickets to What You Need" breaks out into a fit of honky tonk with Gough rejecting Madonna yet again. Serge Gainsbourg's daughter Charlotte even makes a vocal appearance during the chorus of "Using Our Feet." Though most fans probably expect each Badly Drawn Boy record to take a new direction, I'm sure "Have You Fed the Fish?" is certain to spark some controversy among them. But make no mistake, it is a strong release and had this been his first LP, Gough would have surely gathered the same circle of praise and then confounded some with a follow-up named "Hour of Bewilderbeast." — Pang Peow Yeong

CHANTICLEER
Our American Journey [Teldec Classics]

Chanticleer is an American all-male vocal ensemble that has been around for about 25 years, singing American songs of various types. That, and their patriotic, emotional response to 9-11, as can be seen from their sleevenotes, explain their uninspired title. Fortunately, the choice of their songs and the emotional depth of their music prevents the album from becoming an obnoxious display of American sentimentalism sans self-reflection. Selected mainly from church choral repertoire, there are also inclusions of jazz, Japanese and traditional Appalachian influences. Most of the music is a slow harmonious polyphonic blend of soothing, spiritual voices, and is great for calming that violent anti-American streak within me. A rare chance to experience a side to the American character seldom witnessed. Ð Sim Pern Yiau

FOO FIGHTERS
One By One [BMG]

It’s not too difficult to spot the Dave Grohl formula. Lotsa melodies tempered with an odd chord progression here and there, pseudo-metal riffs and big howling choruses. A lot of big howling choruses. Maybe the drumming stint with stoner rock stalwarts Queens Of The Stone Age (and the reported drum role in Cat Power’s new record) have triggered an outpouring of the grunge fury that he stakes his claim by but you can’t deny his royal heritage in the rock order of things.

Lead track and singlem All My Life, plows and chugs with all guns blazing and even has the band tearing it out in a full-scale arena rock stadium in the video — and you just know the moustaches and major sideburn action on the band members are for real. The chorus to Overdrive sums it up best: "Overdrive, I'm going life or death." There’s also a prevailing sense of yearning throughout the 11 tracks (failed relationship? Memories of Kurt?) exemplified by Grohl’s primal screams on Disenchanted Lullabye ("I may be scattered/A little shattered/What does it matter?/No one has a fit like I do/I'm the only one that's fits you").

Elsewhere, there’s a guest appearance by Brian May, of all people, on slow burner Tired Of You and a even jaunt in prog-rock territory with seven-minute album closer Comeback. Grohl might have failed to re-capture the spark of brilliance that was the Foo Fighter’s debut album back in 1995 but One By One is a pretty accomplished piece of work. — Eddino Abdul Hadi

Much has been said about how this record is the new "drugless" Suede, how the title is a literal manifesto for Brett Anderson and gang. And then there’s the stint where the normally black-clad frontman actually sported bleached hair and (gasp!) started sporting an all-white wardrobe.

A New Morning is Suede ageing gracefully, a far cry yet natural progression from the neo-glam days of old. It’s a record of a band sounding very much at ease with one another, despite the addition of new guitarist/keyboardist. Anderson seems to have dropped the dramatic nasal vocal acrobatics for a more relaxed tone but ends up sounding obviously strained in tracks like Obsession while there’s an abundant of polished riffs in the pristine guitars.

Though the preview single Positivity threatened an album of sunshiney tunes — blasphemy for fans accustomed to the romanticised grey urban landscapes that so defined their earlier work — the band sounds surprisingly pragmatic in their current outlook. Instead of heroin chic, they now sing about lonely girls ("Oh sometimes our lives are not what they seem/Sometimes things aren't like they are in lifestyle magazines" — Lonely Girls). Other times Anderson falls into the same trap of repeating himself, especially the by-now-tiring obsession with crashing cars and "moving with the underground."

The band’s songwriting strengths still lie in the big, lush ballads, exemplified in tracks like Lost In TV, Astro Girl and the mysterious Untitled. Surprisingly, the mid-tempo glam tracks like Streetlife sounds too MOR for comfort while album filler, One Hit To The Body, boasts a promising title but is infuriatingly pedestrian.

Suede may boast a comfortable fan base and may not feel threatened by the Coldplays and Travises of the day but A New Morning signals a turn to normalcy for a band that used to be known for its hand-flapping and arse-slapping theatrics. — Eddino Abdul Hadi

Following a two-album stint custom crafting samples for celebrated pop recyclists Adventures in Stereo, Simon Dine reappeared in early-2000 with Noonday Underground. Along with the soulful voice of then 20-year old Daisy Martey, the duo's first LP, "Self-Assembly," was a brilliant pastiche of old '60s pop stirred into a groovy cocktail of exotica and Euro go-go with a swizzle of sugary psychedelia. I was hooked.

Two or so years later, Noonday Underground's latest, "Surface Noise," is no less a welcome return and offers some new flavours. Dine is obviously still fueled by his obsessive record collector tendencies, but where the production of his previous effort made Noonday's brand of retro-futurism dreamy and almost detached, here the tone is considerably warmer; the line between samples and live instrumentation is completely blurred. While Martey only appears for three tracks, the organic feel of "Surface Noise" brings considerable depth to her soulful and powerful voice. The steady, repetitious beat and melodic bass leads in "Go it Alone" remind me of mid-'90s Stereolab, sans synthesizer gurgle, the French vocal accent replaced by a young Grace Slick.

Dine also invited collaborators like Trash Can Sinatras' Frank Reader whose breathy vocal in "Windmills" could have been listed as a Colin Blunstone sample and no one would argue. Outspoken Noonday fan Paul Weller provides the album's most standout moment; "I'll Walk Right On" not only replicates but duplicates the spirit of a classic soul song. The sparse rhythm circles around a mellow funk backbeat while low piano chords lay a counter melody to Weller's husky croon -- the ghost of Otis Redding has been tapped. I have to admit, on first listen I missed the crash beats and '60s swing that more or less defined "Self-Assembly." But while "Surface Noise" still has those elements, Dine has embraced a wider source of sound and spirit; this could very well be his masterpiece. Timeless and wonderful, I'm now adding this to my top ten list for 2002! — Pang Peow Yeong

This is a review of the new ABKCO remaster of what I and many others consider to be the Stones best live album. It was recorded live at Madison Square Garden and Baltimore in 1969 during the Tour of America. I will review the CD version (both formats are on the same disc) since I do not have a Super Audio Compact Disc (SACD) player and don't intend to get one. So far this 'new' format's launch has sputtered, much in the manner of Quadrophonic Sound, and I suspect it will quickly fade away just as fast as Quad did. Even my audio-phile friends aren't interested, unlike DAT!

The real questions, since there are no bonus tracks or additions, is: Is this a good purchase for a Stones fan (like most of us) who already have this wonderful album in several incarnations, album, reel-to-reel, cassette, DAT and the earlier ABKCO CD "Remastered" issue?

The answer: Yes, but with reservations. First of all, those of you on limited budgets — don't bother. The sound upgrade isn't all that special — it's not going to rock your boat. For those of us who have to have it all, in regards to the Rolling Stones, the answer is yes; however, don't throw, sell or trade away your old jewel box CDs! There's a good reason for this: these new digipacks suck. Actually, they look pretty good, although the graphics aren't always the same as the albums, as advertised; the problem is in the spindles that hold the CDs. These plastic spindles which hold the CD break easily and if you play your Stones CDs a lot — like myself and most of us on this list — they're not going to last. (A friend of mine who owns a record stores has already had a number of complaints and returns.)

So, what I suggest, is that you get a slimline double CD jewel box and put in your old Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out! booklet and inserts and put the old CD in the back and the new one in the front slot. That should give you the best of both worlds. Save the digipack for your shelf or sock it away.

Now, on to the album review: First, there is a sound improvement — the songs are brighter overall and more detailed, meaning you can hear the piano a little better and the crowd noise; nothing revelatory, though. If you already loved the album, this won't add a lot to your enjoyment since it was already damn good. In fact, I was disappointed overall at the lack of sound improvement and ABKCO did nothing to fix some of the long standing problems in the mix, such as the problem with Carol where the opening riff and first verse are too low in the mix, especially Mick's vocals. True, maybe they didn't 'believe' it was their job to change the mix; still, this is one place where a little re-mixing would have made a big improvement in the song.

On the other hand, they chopped the first half (six seconds) off of the guitar intro to Stray Cat Blues — what happened here! I went back to my old CD and original vinyl to see if they were 'restoring' it to the original mix; no way. The guitar intro was always 12 seconds — someone screwed up here big time! Or is this an improvement — Satan help us!

Overall, the sound improvement is not all that noticeable on the first four numbers until we get to Midnight Rambler. The guitars are noticeably brighter on the Rambler and the gain is boosted. In fact, to my ears it appears that the last six songs are much louder than the first four! Therefore, the album sounds better the longer it runs, most noticeably with Live With Me and Honky Tonk Women. Very strange.

Still, the remaster forces us to give this beloved album a careful re-listen, which is good and brings new details to the surface. Whether or not that's worth the US$18.95 list price on this album, well, that's up to you! — John Carr [used with permission]

Note: The above review was printed in the Rolling Stones emailer, Sticky Fingers Journal. For more, email sfj@stickyfingersjournal.com.


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