This is a retrospective on Modest Mouse’s debut, ‘This Is A Long Drive For Someone With Nothing To Think About’, which I wrote for The Thin Air (http://thethinair.net/2016/03/road-to-nowhere-modest-mouses-this-is-a-long-drive-for-someone-with-nothing-to-think-about-twenty-years-later/) in March 2016.
What do you think of when you hear the phrase ‘driving music’? As musical notions go, it’s one that usually comes with a specific set of aesthetic criteria. Upbeat tempos, big choruses, maybe the occasional indulgent guitar solo. This Is A Long Drive For Someone With Nothing To Think About, the debut of Issaquah indie rockers Modest Mouse, turned twenty last Saturday. While directly referencing both a long journey and a clear mind, if anything this album is the protracted, pensive inverse of canonical ‘driving music’ – ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ with a dicey hangover. Modest Mouse emerged in the early nineties as part of a curious cadre of Northwestern American indie-punk bands like Lync and Heavens to Betsy (who were an early incarnation of Riot Grrrl nobility Sleater Kinney). Raised on a mix of Seattle post-hardcore & the more considered songcraft of bands like Built to Spill, they forged a sound in the early years of their career that still sounds utterly unique, even two decades later. In the wake of their pathologically average recent effort, Strangers to Ourselves, it’s worth looking back at their debut; what you happen to find is an almost entirely different band – callow yet surprisingly self-assured.
This originally appeared on The Thin Air’s website (http://thethinair.net/2016/03/sea-pinks-roisin-dubh-galway/) in March 2016. Photo credit: Ana Levisky / The Thin Air
I sometimes wonder how often, if ever, bands think about how the sound they craft in a studio translates to a live stage. Some groups are simply ‘studio bands’ – they sound better when they can endlessly and obsessively tinker with the sonic possibilities of technology. Others see the live setting as a different set of circumstances altogether, something with the living potential for a more sensory collective experience, something that can become a genuine reason to senselessly roar at your friends in a smoking area. While this is all pretty vague stuff to be beginning with, I promise it has a tenuous connection to the Sea Pinks gig that occurred in the Roisin Dubh on Saturday last, February 12th March. The gig was free in, which as an impetus to get people to go and see live music should never be underestimated.
This originally appeared on The Thin Air’s website (http://thethinair.net/2016/04/laura-gibson-empire-builder/), in April 2016.
There aren’t many labels in popular music that come with as many unspoken assumptions as ‘singer-songwriter’ does. As cultural archetypes go, it’s uniquely malleable and somewhat slippery – images are conjured both of introverted Moleskine-clutching creatives & street-busking dilettantes, haunting cafés as they wrestle with personal demons. It’s a label that could be reasonably applied to artists across a broad spectrum of creativity/popularity/influence while still retaining its diagnostic value – Nick Drake and Ben Howard are both ‘singer-songwriters’ in some sense or another. There also tends to be a smuggled expectation among listeners that the songwriting of a ‘singer-songwriter’ will have some inherent poetic worth, given the highly intimate nature of its communication – the universal dressed up as the personal.
A version of this originally appeared in the March 2015 issue of tn2 magazine, which you can find on their website (http://www.tn2magazine.ie), should the need strike you.
Steven Sharpe is a Galway-based singer-songwriter who cultivates a witty, unapologetic style that is difficult to describe. He’s quite forthcoming about his eclectic batch of influences, citing “Nina Simone, Kate Bush and Laurie Anderson” as “the holy trinity of artists, for me”. While acknowledging that much of his music is about “being gay and shit”, and he remarks on how he “never really heard that growing up”. Instantly recognisable as jangly, guy-with-a-guitar-folk-pop, there’s an immediacy to his songwriting that exudes a confidence and authority beyond the trappings of the genre, something “stomping, fabulous, flamboyant”. The tags on his bandcamp page are an aptly laconic summation of this style, some of which include “acoustic”, “gay”, “phat”, “gay rights”, “gay lefts” and “class”.
This originally appeared in the February 2015 issue of tn2 magazine, as part of the Videodrome series. You can find the other entries in the series on their website (http://www.tn2magazine.ie).
While Life On Mars? was actually David Bowie’s fourth music video, it was the first to offer such a compelling showcase of what a complete and utter freak he is.
A version of this first appeared on tn2 magazine’s website (www.tn2magazine.ie) in February 2015.
The unorthodox release of Fashion Week, the completely instrumental sixth album from unorthodox hip-hop trio Death Grips, would seem to fit the bizarre narrative of this group’s career. The album of course comes replete with its own offbeat origin story: it was downloaded from some neglected corner of cyberspace, posted on a subreddit, dismissed outright as a spurious leak, then legitimised by the band’s own Soundcloud account.
This originally appeared in the October 2014 issue of tn2 magazine, as part of the Videodrome series. You can find the other entries in the series on their website (http://www.tn2magazine.ie).
Only truly disenfranchised nineties kids will get this. I joke, but Nirvana’s seminal debut Nevermind had a seismic cultural impact upon its release in September 1991, one that still resonates to this day.
This originally appeared in the November 2014 issue of tn2 magazine, as part of the Videodrome series. You can find other entries in the series on their website (http://www.tn2magazine.ie).
Bisexuality, threesomes, androgyny, voyeurism, BDSM. No, not a cross-section of the Craigslist personals, but rather the content of one the most controversial videos of an already colourful career.
A version of this originally appeared in the September 2014 issue of tn2 magazine, which you can find on their website (http://www.tn2magazine.ie) should the need strike you.
Westport surf-pop outfit Me and My Dog have been making waves on the Irish independent scene for a while now. Their folksy, engrossing debut EP Three Songs About Me and My Dog was followed by an absorbing split cassette tape, Delphi, released in conjunction with garage-rock hellraisers (and fellow westerners) Oh Boland on the lively Dublin label Popical Island.
To the internet archaeologists of the future: you’re all dweebs