A belated thank you from SCQ

Dance party in the SCQ Office; Ottawa, 2010

Dear readers,

You’re probably lost. Skeleton Crew Quarterly hasn’t published new material since the end of 2012, so whatever review or interview you’re looking for, I hope it’s old. On the off-chance you’re visiting this blog intentionally, as an occasional reader wondering what the hell happened here, you remembered SCQ on the right day. Below is the goodbye I’d written in January 2013; I opened it today expecting some half-coherent draft and was surprised to find it nearly complete. So, with over a year and a half behind us, here's SCQ’s lost goodbye:

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01/10/13

The term “hiatus” is often met with sadness in the music world, not because it represents a permanent cessation of a band or label but because there’s no itinerary to comprehend just what lies ahead. Like a chalkboard wiped clean of plans, the hiatus leaves a momentary gap before we listeners fill it with other interests, other bands. And occasionally, we don’t notice the gap at all.

Skeleton Crew Quarterly turns five years old this month. Those who’ve tuned into this music-blog semi-regularly over the years know that I rarely pass up an opportunity to celebrate the passing seasons, and I had another Year-End Questionnaire arranged to commemorate this milestone. The questions were written and in two cases submitted – both recipients, pianist Nils Frahm and Anton Newcombe of Brian Jonestown Massacre, agreed to take part – but my heart just wasn’t in it. Back in the winter of 2007, the idea of asking a beloved musician their top records of the year seemed like a dream. I was personally invested in discovering and communicating those answers through a loudspeaker to anyone who cared. And over the years, I’ve met and traded emails with many listeners who were quite like me; readers who enjoy peering through the artist’s looking-glass and investigating music their idols like. Only I’m not really one of those people anymore.

I remain terribly obsessed with music. It’s one of my life’s few great loves. But gradually, thankfully, the pedestal I’ve offered songwriters for most of my life has diminished; they’re real people with real jobs and real worries and real minutia. Their opinions on music can be valuable and provocative, but it’s trivia all the same. And in the spirit of simplifying my life and focusing my creative impulses on what matters most, I’ve decided to leave the trivia to others.

A random glimpse over the 1,000 reviews I’ve written showcases an overabundance of trivia – plenty of details I barely remember learning so long ago. But they also chronicle five years of living, which is something a sentimentalist like me cannot ignore. As I read over these reviews, it isn’t commentary on the music that resonates so much as the memories invoked from the time period in which they were written. Whether I was finding my voice with records culled from my own collection during my year in that summer-y High Park apartment, or clicking “publish” with the hope that proofreading wasn’t necessary during one of my Greek-town all-nighters. Records I broke into over subway rides, between classes at my teaching job in Taipei, on late-night Ottawa walks to pick up my girlfriend, at the Starbucks in St Catharines before our internet was connected, and so forth. In the end, how music scores our lives is what Skeleton Crew Quarterly has always been about for me.

Some reviews I can vividly remember – where I was sitting, the view over my laptop as I stared off in concentration. Other reviews, I haven’t the foggiest. Sometimes I’d sneak little secrets into my reviews, to see if friends or family were really reading. (Fun fact: I announced my return from Taiwan a week before I surprised everyone with my appearance in Canada.) And there are many great stories that have gone on behind the scenes about attaining promo copies, missed opportunities and weird semi-friendships that developed with artists, but they’re really only great to me.

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That’s it, that’s where I stopped. I’m glad I was proactive enough to notify those who knew me best and tell them, among other things, that they can stop wasting postage on SCQ. I'm also happy I had a chance to tell my conspirator Yusuf before he left this world. There was a list of people I wanted to thank but the task to compile it would be difficult and pointless now. So instead I thank my publicity comrades and label insiders who were always stoked to send me CDs and tickets. I thank the songwriters and band members I got to know for all of their kindnesses and great music. And I thank the readers who made this whole enterprise a glorious bit of fun. In many ways, SCQ was its own little hiatus.

We had some amazing listens,

Love SCQ

2007 - 2012

Toronto, Ottawa

So Long, Ruins! II

A few months ago, I disowned several albums that were, well, cramping my style. All they did was sit around my apartment and glare at me each time I passed them over. So Long, Ruins! thusly became my Serenity Now!; an occasion to casually tell them exactly what I think before selling them off. Interestingly enough, I still see most of my March castaways (just scroll down) lounging about Sonic Boom’s used bins and, each time I do, I feel a slight wave of justification.

A few sidenotes, while they’re on my mind: laptop composer and SCQ fave You Are My Symphonic is currently giving away his latest release, Afternoon Birds of Arima, for free on his website. Check it. Additionally, good friend and comedian-extraordinaire Shane Murphy is set to launch his website of hilarious mystery. Swing by. And for some slightly more professional SCQ-esque reviews, check:

Luminous Night by Six Organs of Admittance
&
Haunt the Upper Hallways by The Declining Winter

plus No Ripcord’s recent breakdown of Sweden’s mindblowing indie scene by David Coleman (seriously, there must be something in that country’s drinking water)...

Now So Long, Ruins II: a few albums I struggled with, the odd release I fooled myself into buying. In conjunction with these four write-ups, you’re welcome to peruse the previously posted reviews of other albums set to walk the plank here, here and here.

3 - Pole (So Long, Ruins! II)

3

Pole
-Scape Records.

SCQ Rating: 48%

One of many elusive electronic pioneers whose work is attached to just about everything, Pole was an artist I’d always planned to seek out. In the summer of 2007 as Sam the Record Man was closing its flagship Toronto store, the timing was as good as I could hope. So I scooped up 3 for a fraction of its original price and enjoyed a few solid weeks of letting its dubbed-out basslines and rickety clicks bounce around my brain. Of course, these were also my first weeks of trying a new anti-anxiety prescription; meaning, I could’ve been listening to a styrofoam cup scraping the concrete and been equally enthused.

While the opening couplet of ‘Silberfisch’ and ‘Taxi’ offer optimism with some multilayered dub exercises, things quickly get tedious and by the time ‘Klattern’ drips like outdoor rainwater, you’ll forget the stereo is on. As part of a trilogy, I’m told 3 is the most accessible and interesting, which makes me all the more certain that Pole’s early work is reserved for the most dedicated left-field dub fans... or anyone completely tripping.

You Don't Know (Ninja Cuts) - Various (So Long, Ruins! II)

You Don’t Know (Ninja Tune Compilation)

Various
Ninja Tunes.

SCQ Rating: 60%

As silly as it sounds, I purchased this Ninja Tunes compilation because I thought I knew what to expect. Missing all of my old favourites from DJ Food, Cinematic Orchestra and Kid Koala that were lost to ancient hard-drives, You Don’t Know seemed like a great way to reconnect my early admiration for the English label’s classic approach to downtempo and turntablism. What I didn’t expect: this compilation’s entire raison d’etre is to prove old fans like me wrong, hence its title: You Don’t Know (Ninja Cuts). Aha.

As someone who enjoyed Xen Cuts and Ninja Tunes: The Shadow Years, this new triple-disc is far less cohesive, trying to occupy left-field electronica, independent rap, dream-pop and drum-n-bass all at once. So unless you’re a blind superfan of the label itself, You Don’t Know will be pretty difficult to consume as a whole. As open-minded as I consider myself, this collection still forced me to go pillaging; the free-jazz atmospheres of Max & Harvey’s ‘Thieves’, Yppah’s vaguely shoegazey ‘Again With the Subtitles’, and John Mattias’ wintry folk on ‘Evermore’. Among the best highlights are Blockhead’s beautiful ‘Sunday Séance’, Loka’s moody ‘Beginningless’ and Bonobo’s dual tracks. Surprises aside, you can always rely on old favourites to deliver, such as Coldcut (who appears multiple times), Jaga (on the gorgeous ‘Swedenborgske Rom’), Mr. Scruff and Fog.

Beyond reminding me of my teenage years, the frequent rap songs are truly my biggest hindrance with You Don’t Know… although tracks by One Self, Zero Db, King Geedorah, and Roots Manuva are admirably fresh. That said, the real star of this convoluted collection is whoever did the art direction, as these three discs feature covers of awesome distinction; as natural and untouched as disc one has the pyramids cover, disc two advances into the cathedral image of spiritual awakening and disc three is a futurist’s utopia. An aesthetically beautiful, if musically uneven, listening experience but indeed a testament to how the famed triphop label has expanded its repertoire.

S/T - LCD Soundsystem (So Long, Ruins! II)

LCD Soundsystem

LCD Soundsystem
DFA Records.

SCQ Rating: 65%

Hipsters unite! Indeed, LCD Soundsystem’s full-length debut thrilled the pants off most critics and dance-rock ready fans and even though I thought the poorly named genre-hybrid had already been perfected with The Rapture’s debut two years earlier, I didn’t want to miss out. ‘Daft Punk is Playing in my House’ won me over instinctively, while more creative excursions like ‘Disco Infiltrator’ and ‘On Repeat’ gave this self-titled effort some contingency singles. Yet proceedings are worn down by variety – what should be a good thing – in the form of lazy post-punk (‘Movement’) and a lazier Beatles homage (‘Never As Tired As When I’m Waking Up’). Instead of flexing Murphy’s songwriting muscle, these black-sheep tracks reflect just how lost Murphy was between real authorship and cloying parody.

The second disc is a generous selection of previously available 7” and 12” cuts, including the unreasonably popular ‘Losing My Edge’ and the much better ‘Yr City’s a Sucker’. Still, the disc is nearly impossible to get through with club tracks that barely transform and varied versions of the same tracks. Giving this debut up would be easy had I realized that James Murphy’s ironic sensibilities were simply beyond me… but Sound of Silver was among my favourite albums of 2007, which makes me return to this double-album often with false hope. No more!

Flavour Has No Name - Static (So Long, Ruins! II)

Flavour Has No Name

Static
City Centre Offices.

SCQ Rating: 43%

A few years ago, I couldn’t have admitted this but here goes: I have a limit when it comes to German electronica. For years I consumed as much as I could find, acting as a completist for my favourite artists and basically going nuts on Boomkat. Well, if Flavour Has No Name stands for anything in my collection, it’s as a turning-point for an aging obsession and proof that Boomkat can take their hyperbole too far.

Compared to Hanno Leichtmann’s more recent Re: Talking About Memories, which experimented with live instrumentation to great effect, Flavour Has No Name is incredibly sterile. And while such cold production might work had Static sought to compose a work of longform mood-pieces, this is a pop record… one packed with melodies that fight to break Static’s frozen writer’s block. ‘Turn On, Switch Off’, for example, is an eloquently arranged track of romantic harp flourishes and shimmering beats yet its five plus minutes are wasted on Valerie Trebeljahr’s (of Mum) four-word refrains. Similarly static is ‘Inside Your Heaven’; while considered a classic by Boomkat, this opener extends through a syrupy, late-night R&B vibe without so much as a sudden turn or build-up. Even Flavour Has No Name’s better offerings, like ‘Ghost Boy’, which finds Ronald Lippok (of Tarwater) delivering rock-solid vocals, lacks any surprises to elevate it beyond its ruminating first minute. City Centre Offices continues to release wonderful work (check out Miwon’s latest, if you doubt it), but this album proves that even the best labels have its share of mediocre releases. So long, ruins!

One Month Challenge Update / So Long, Ruins!

Three weeks have passed since that foolish wager began where I challenged myself not to purchase any music-related products over the span of one month, and I’m proud to announce I’ve yet to crack. Now I won’t say twenty-three days have passed without incident. I’ve entered a few record stores and nearly rationalized myself out of contractual obligation… yet fought back the urge to buy.

Alright, enough back-patting; I’m not there yet. Instead, this post is to celebrate the lives of a few albums that, due to mediocrity and this writer’s disinterest, are being forfeited for my cause. With but a week left of restrictions, I’m freeing up some CD-tower real estate and exercising my option to sell ten or twelve albums in order to purchase one. The following discs are now circulating at large in Sonic Boom's used bins. Beware...

Songs For the Broken Hearted - Windy & Carl (So Long, Ruins!)

Songs For the Broken Hearted

Windy & Carl
Kranky Records.

SCQ Rating: 47%

Windy & Carl are perhaps Brian Eno’s closest successors when it comes to the man’s definition – not exposition – of ambient music. Like his famed essay in Music for Airports, Songs For the Broken Hearted obeys the law that ambience should be listened to as often as it’s unconsciously ignored. And true to form, I’ve forgotten that it is playing most every time I’ve put it on.

The key to true ambient music, beyond a successful series of zone-outs, is that when you become aware of it again, fresh from its snail-slow deviations, you should instinctively reflect on your purchase’s quality. It’s like awaking from a night’s sleep in a new bed and judging its comfort. When I snap back into reality after one of Songs For the Broken Hearted’s suffocating drones, I’m pissed off. I question how Windy & Carl possess such notoriety in their field when label-mates (White Rainbow, Lichens) are far more interesting. I chastise myself for buying it on an impulse, believing that it might become ideal for that particular autumn day. More than anything, I wonder how much of my Ipod battery has been lost to uninspired layers of sludge. In Eno-theory, this record should be good… but Songs For the Broken Hearted props ambience as much as any amateur musician who personally invests themselves in formless, one-key marathons. You’ll ignore this far more often than you’ll listen.

Benni Hemm Hemm - Benni Hemm Hemm (So Long, Ruins!)

Benni Hemm Hemm

Benni Hemm Hemm
Morr Music.

SCQ Rating: 37%

Anyone who even casually peruses this blog should know that Morr Music is among my favourite labels… and finding their releases at a cheap price is a rare case indeed. My girlfriend and I were on hand to witness Sam the Record Man’s last stand on Yonge Street two years ago, and while rummaging through their heavily discounted inventory, I came across Benni Hemm Hemm’s disastrously covered debut. He’d conquered his native Iceland, wowed the folks of a fine label and earned some now-commonplace comparisons to Sufjan Stevens. Even reading over those points I just made, I feel like I made the right decision. How could I go wrong? Why, in several key areas...

I failed to anticipate that Benni Hemm Hemm might try to pass off its songs with the same twee-cuteness that screams from its cover like a billboard. I failed to consider the odds that anyone (from Iceland or anywhere) is going to be accurately matched to Sufjan Stevens, folk-god extraordinaire. Most embarrassingly, I failed to admit to myself that I was buying this disc more for the Morr symbol in the bottom left corner than for the artist’s hard work. The entire affair, from their bookending ‘Beginning End’ instrumentals to the fractured English of ‘I Can Love You in a Wheelchair Baby’, reeks of ‘ah shucks’ bashfulness, and really, if albums are purported weapons used to pick up chicks, Sufjan already had girls and guys alike disrobed with his ode to serial-killer John Wayne Gacy Jr. How the hell did Sufjan do it? Why, with talent.

Honeycomb - Frank Black (So Long, Ruins!)

Honeycomb

Frank Black
Back Porch Records.

SCQ Rating: 41%

A previous job I held introduced me to the redundant magic of internet radio, which in turn opened my ears to Frank Black’s solo work. From the moment I heard ‘I Burn Today’, Honeycomb was on my to-buy list. The song was brisk and sunny like the spring weather I always pine for, with unhinged bits of piano and bells backing Black’s coarse vocals. So compelling that song was (and still is, as of tonight), I refused to hear more until the disc was in my possession. That was a mistake.

So much of this album feels chafed between Black’s bored ruminating and an obscure label’s gamble on success. ‘Selkie Bride’ and the title track best represent Black’s tedious lack of variation, while ‘Song of the Shrimp’, Elvis cover or not, plain sucks. I have to hand it to his choice of label - if in name only – as Honeycomb could only pass unnoticed on a noisy back-porch of super-polite guests. The mood is right, the tempo is sympathetic for lonely drunks, but the songwriting and performance sink Honeycomb before it’s out of the gate.

Standards - Tortoise (So Long, Ruins!)

Standards

Tortoise
Thrill Jockey Records.

SCQ Rating: 56%

Never buy strange records after a few drinks. In fact, any music-lover should steer clear of drunk record-shopping, period! If you’re not careful, you’ll wind up walking out into the night with something critics hailed as a classic several years back and a twister of journalist’s paraphrased sound-bytes jumbling around your brain, jazzing you up for no reason. Is Standards impressive because it’s enjoyable or because it’s trying to impress? ‘Seneca’ is a widescreen, spaghetti-western of an opener, dropping a gauntlet of free-form jazz drumming and heavy bass. Moments nearly match ‘Seneca’ throughout Standard’s start-stop pace, but most of it feels too mechanical; as if the creativity behind it all was so forced that we, as listeners, learn to anticipate its stressed-out objectives. Yeah, it’s impressive in that these songs now exist whereas they didn’t before, but I doubt that’s what all their math-rock and tweaked synths were aiming for.