Term 2, planning for Brisbane in July. Thinking about video multimedia possibilities and doing computer stuff + live instruments. I've just been listening to Douglas Lilburn, and all kinds of early jazz, blues etc. Early Van Morrison the ultimate vocalist, from Northern Ireland, Belfast, where my grandfather's from (as opposed to Dublin). Had a good road trip over the holidays down the West Coast, past Wanaka (tourism-covered to the point of unfriendliness) and through the McKenzie Basin. Whole other world...
Here's a review I wrote the other week:
Chris Knox & the Nothing
by Dave Edwards
8/10
Chris Knox & the Nothing sees New Zealand’s original lo-fi pioneer break a few habits – studio recorded, self-released without Flying Nun, and has a human rhythm section of Stefan Neville (aka Pumice) and Jol Mulholland in place of the traditional drum machine, plus additional colour from strings, horns, and keyboards.
Knox apparently saw that some of his working methods, which were boldly innovative in the 80s and relatively adventurous in the 90s, are now de rigeur. He risked getting marginalized by repeating himself, and so it’s good to see him pushing 50 and still doing his job as an artist and trying new ideas. In the last couple of years he’s on one hand made an electro-acoustic album under the name Friend, seemingly to clear out some ideas that wouldn’t fit on his more song-based albums, and on the other had his early recordings with Toy Love and the Enemy re-released. So it seems an appropriate time for something new. And at 70 minutes, the length of Blonde on Blonde, Trout Mask Replica or “the white album”, Chris Knox & the Nothing thankfully feels generous rather than self-indulgent.
There’s an interesting dichotomy between getting extra resources for the recording, but going more independent with the album release. Knox told me that ‘Flying Nun are no longer relevant’ – and besides, he can get $12 (NZ) per album sold this way rather than $2 from Flying Nun.
Chris Knox & the Nothing is no great departure in terms of songwriting – still bittersweet, ironic, well-crafted lyrics and a lot of E-shape barre chord strumming. But it makes some of Knox’s earlier recordings sound like demo versions. As well as the studio-quality sound, real musicians are inherently richer and more subtle than a drum machine: good songs + good musicians is a formula that will never date. And working with younger players keeps it contemporary. Stefan Neville, steadily emerging as an heir to people like Knox, Peter Jefferies and Alastair Galbraith, sticks to drums throughout – much less harrowing than a typical Pumice album - here he’s a sideman, gets a good groove going and creates space to serve the song. I’m less familiar with Jol Mulholland, who’s usually a guitar-player, but Knox said he was instantly attracted to Mulholland’s bass style.
Thematically, a lot of the album is concerned with aging – song titles include ‘A Faded Postcard in the Sun’, ‘the Lukewarm Bath’ and ‘Bitter Ballad of the Patriarch’. Another theme is Knox’s perennial media/cultural concerns - he makes more money as a NZ critic, cartoonist and semi-celebrity than from his music. “She’s an infomercial nightmare with a perfect set of teeth” – maybe his dayjob prevents him simply turning the tv off.
There are moments of absolute gold in the album. The opening track starts off as an angry/comical little gnomic rant - “I’m sick to death of humankind / I wanna leave the whole damned lot of you behind / Just fuck right off / fuck off outta my face” – but then 29 seconds in the tempo decelerates, the drums take on an epic quality, the strings and brass come in majestically, “and then you look at me / with those great big puppy eyes…”
The middle section of the album is a highlight for me, with the minimal acoustic ‘The Flyshit on the Ceiling’ marking one dynamic extreme and carrying incisive, almost Samuel Beckett-like lyrics:
“When you’re struggling to get over all the things that you’ve been feeling
All the things that bug you, like that flyshit on the ceiling
Like the tap that keeps on dripping, like the sound of your own illness
And the silent voice that whispers soft sweet nothings in the stillness
You’re a better man for getting through the day”
At the other dynamic end are a couple of epic rockers ‘Doughnut’ and ‘Outta Here’: “When you’re looking yr best but still feeling depressed, you’ll be outta here / when yr body gives out and yr twist has no shout, you’ll be outta here”. The way I read it, getting outta here’s a positive thing - moving on, keeping things fresh – and playing the song live, Knox looked me right in the eye on the line “when yr losing yr looks and yr songs have no hooks…”
Overall, the emphasis in the album is on the songs. The brass and strings are employed judiciously, without falling into the traps of sugariness or overkill. There’s one instrumental jam, “Happiness is a Warm Jet”, which Knox describes in the liner notes as “live, unrehearsed, and is an edit of a 17-minute self-indulgence in which I was utterly out of my depth”.
The Beatles allusion in that title, the minimal front cover artwork which visually quotes “the white album”, some Sergeant Pepper-esque trumpet lines, and the band’s live (though not on the album) set-closing cover of “A Day in the Life” show Knox wearing influences on his sleeve. His vocals are tuneful and dynamically versatile, with a hint of John Lennon about them, and the abrasive Beatle seems to be one Knox takes after the most. He might even be the closest thing we have to Lennon’s successor these days, and at his best he’s up there with anyone.
www.fiffdimension.co.nzwww.fiffdimension.co.nzwww.fiffdimension.co.nz
Posted by fiffdimension at May 1, 2006 08:47 PM | TrackBack