The philosophy of pop music? Some would probably argue that it shouldn’t have one maybe other than “It’s got a good beat and you can dance to it…”.
Or maybe you can become soundtrack to something a bit useful, a bit idealistic. Almost counter-intuitive to its title, What Do I Care (Minty Fresh) actually does. It’s a typically scrappy-but-neat little two-minute squirt from our very own punky-poppy Bloods, with the bonus of raising your awareness to Skateistan – a pretty smart cultural and educational initiative that actually engages kids in places not renown for giving people much in the way of opportunity to think, let alone have some fun. One of those places being Cambodia – you know, where ‘we’ (ok, ‘our’ government – hmm, too many inverted commas?) are trying to send some of the desperate souls currently behind ‘our’ barbed wire. Listen, watch, read, consider how lucky you are.
Then again, there’s the question of artists living on past glories – in this case, perhaps both musical and visual. The Chemical Brothers have made some of the great electronic music of the last twenty years. Michael Gondry similarly has provided some of the great video imagery – Bjork, Massive Attack – of a similar period. But you’re not sure if Go (Virgin/EMI) will go down on anybody’s resume as a finest hour. The machines don’t get tired, but maybe the humans or the inspiration behind them might. That might even extend to the obligatory guest vocalist, here being Q-Tip - once (or maybe still) of A Tribe Called Quest. And does anybody still say ‘The ladies is fly’? Chorus attempts their usual grasp at the synthetic anthemic. Some will still jump, but probably fewer than previously.
Then again, you can be in on the other side of 70, and still have a name with some cachet. Giorgio Moroder, following his tagging of our Kylie around the nation is in the midst of promoting an album that almost seems to be trying to prove he not only knows his way around those machines that go ‘ping’, but retains the eye and ear for the best (mostly) female voices to service those songs. Having the aforementioned Minogue, Charlie XCX, and Britney among others on it are pretty splendid credits to begin with, but for the title track of Déjà vu (RCA) it’s the most omnipresent name of all of late: Sia. Add her trademark non-appearing appearance in the attached clip, as well cameos from the maestro himself, and all elements seem pretty much in place.
Conversely, it’s amazing how just one TV appearance can almost make your career happen. That still hypnotic Letterman performance last year was Future Islands’ gold ticket – even if you weren’t a devotee of American late-night talk shows. It had such an effect on Dave, he’s even invited them back as he heads for the retirement exit door. And you still can’t take your eyes of Herring’s compelling mix of husky athleticism and man on the verge of a full-scale emotional breakdown. The Chase (4AD) is a relentless thing, more than the ebb-and-flow of Seasons Change, but the Joy Division/New Order model of human drummer being there to supplement a loop remains a good one.
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From a similar time, and seemingly outside the 20-year cycle of fashion that has too many taking their musical cues from the arse-end of grunge and the witless apathy of the ‘90s slacker lazy attitude, a band I often hear in guitar bands in the midst of escaping from their garage is the spiky melodicism and offhand vocals of Echo & the Bunnymen. Not that there’s anything wrong with that – it’s better than even accidentally sounding like Coldplay, surely. Anyway, Soviet X-Ray Record Club have a name even redolent of that era, although they’re actually from Queensland’s own Ipswich of this week. The clip of Shake (Independent) has them being black-clad, but cheerful – song’s pretty good too.
Oh Wonder have a kind of timeless stately feel to them, as well. Tick the box that says ‘classically trained’, which somehow suggests they know how to make subtle and layered pop music of an incredibly assured manner, even while imposing upon themselves the discipline of releasing a new song every month for the last year. Livewire (Dew Process) is of a slow-burn which acts as a good litmus test to whether they’re your kinda thing, or not.
Disappointingly, Last Dinosaurs’ Evie (Universal) does not come pre-sliced into Parts I, II, and III (joke for the more mature readers there…), but is another of their bright and choppy-guitared modern pop thing of a sunshiny nature. Having that ‘feel good hit of the summer’ flavour to it suggests they might be after success in the other hemisphere than here in their antipodean homeland. This may take some further steps toward that.
And to one of the most loved and loathed local genres. Ah, Australian hip-hop – you crazy kids, with so many of you still wearing your baseball caps on backwards. Seth Sentry has managed some level of international recognition, perhaps because he’s not tried too hard to reference bogan suburbia as some of his contemporaries tend to do. Then again, casting yourself as some relative of the prince of darkness as occurs on Hell Boy (High Score/Inertia) might invite comparisons to something like Eminem’s early self-mythologising. This does what it’s pretty much meant to do, and likely won’t alter anyone’s opinion from their already-held positions.
