Wednesday's Emotional Setup: Happy Music For Happy People
So last night, before getting to bed at an unseemly hour (especially considering everything I have to do today), I listened once again to what may be, at this point in time, my favorite album of the year - Mogwai's superlative and lovely Happy Songs For Happy People. I jotted down some impressions while listening to it, and while they have been edited for spelling and grammar, they are otherwise unretouched.
'Hunted By A Freak': Those peaks, strings and organ and guitars, extending over vocoder blurbles (of which Mogwai are one of the few proper users in modern music) upwards into infinity. Great opener. As moving as older Mogwai but not as loud or harsh, a tendancy that is rampant on this album.
'Moses? I Amn't': Doomy late-night ambience of bass fuzz and strings, becalmed like a whale corpse. As, say, a single it would make no sense and probably be boring, but in this perfectly-paced album it fits.
'Kids Will Be Skeletons': Wafting in where earlier incarnations would have stomped. Finally Mogwai return to the field where they broke ground with 'Helicon 1' and expand on it. Again, moving upwards, and strangely optimistic.
'Killing All The Flies': More vocoder - almost no real voices on this album. How different would this be if there were? Would it be a pop song? Finally a noiseburst, and it's all the more glorious for having kept us waiting. But just one. Restraint seems to be a hallmark of this new Mogwai. Again, while the brutality of earlier Mogwai is (very) good in it's own way, here we have a return to the endless uplift of 'Helicon 1'. But just a short one.
'Boring Machines Disturbs Sleep': The pace of this album, after Come On Die Young and even Rock Action didn't really fit their songs, is amazing. Starts out as atonality, albeit not as harsh as 'With Portfolio'. and then - is that voices? Can't quite make out what they're saying. But still atonal. Some harshness to balance things a bit.
'Ratts Of The Capital': Oh, that they would have put (old, Matador compilation filler) 'Hugh Dallas' in here instead. But they didn't. not that this is bad - but 'Hugh Dallas' would have been a perfect center for Happy Music For Happy People to coalesce around. Same sadness, same restraint, but one instance of audible vocals on the album (Is the night so bad/Were we so bad today?/I only know/I almost fell today would have fit perfectly). Instead it gets this, lovely but not as lovely as '2 Rights Make 1 Wrong' from the last album. The noisy bit a bit like the end of 'My Father My King'. Not bad, but as the one longform piece here I was expecting it to be the center, and it's just sort of sturm und drang. Initially disquieting, but all that meant was that I had to recalibrate my expectations of what I get from a Mogwai album. Will disappoint those who want another Young Team, but Mogwai have moved on.
'Golden Porsche': Like 'Secret Pint' after a good cry. I love that Mogwai's drummer only seems to know 3-4 tricks but that they work every time. Again that repeated piano chord, going up and up and up... The album title may be ironic, but this is still Mogwai's most uplifting work. For the first time I don't get any sense of specificity from their work, however. As long as it's this lovely that's not really a complaint.
'I Know You Are But What Am I?': Now, finally a repeated chord (again on piano) that points down. No guitars, but you don't really notice the first time. Measured and strangely demanding, as if waiting for a response. The calmer relative of 'Sine Wave'. Again, buried anger. Slowing the pace for the grand finale.
'Stop Coming To My House': And grand it is: like the second part of 'I Know You Are..', now rising, through waves of static, until finally the whole thing just crashes together, coming apart in the atmosphere, a moment of pure transport. Ends with just that mournful series of bleeps as the guitars feed back and the drums slowly disappear from sight.
Nick Southall said it best about this album: "they've gained a level of subtlty and control over the nuances of calm that's added dimensions to their sound." Enough bands, including older Mogwai, focus on sprawl and epic and space. Let them continue to turn out perfectly formed miniatures, forty-minute pocket movements, as long as they're this good at it.
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So last night, before getting to bed at an unseemly hour (especially considering everything I have to do today), I listened once again to what may be, at this point in time, my favorite album of the year - Mogwai's superlative and lovely Happy Songs For Happy People. I jotted down some impressions while listening to it, and while they have been edited for spelling and grammar, they are otherwise unretouched.
'Hunted By A Freak': Those peaks, strings and organ and guitars, extending over vocoder blurbles (of which Mogwai are one of the few proper users in modern music) upwards into infinity. Great opener. As moving as older Mogwai but not as loud or harsh, a tendancy that is rampant on this album.
'Moses? I Amn't': Doomy late-night ambience of bass fuzz and strings, becalmed like a whale corpse. As, say, a single it would make no sense and probably be boring, but in this perfectly-paced album it fits.
'Kids Will Be Skeletons': Wafting in where earlier incarnations would have stomped. Finally Mogwai return to the field where they broke ground with 'Helicon 1' and expand on it. Again, moving upwards, and strangely optimistic.
'Killing All The Flies': More vocoder - almost no real voices on this album. How different would this be if there were? Would it be a pop song? Finally a noiseburst, and it's all the more glorious for having kept us waiting. But just one. Restraint seems to be a hallmark of this new Mogwai. Again, while the brutality of earlier Mogwai is (very) good in it's own way, here we have a return to the endless uplift of 'Helicon 1'. But just a short one.
'Boring Machines Disturbs Sleep': The pace of this album, after Come On Die Young and even Rock Action didn't really fit their songs, is amazing. Starts out as atonality, albeit not as harsh as 'With Portfolio'. and then - is that voices? Can't quite make out what they're saying. But still atonal. Some harshness to balance things a bit.
'Ratts Of The Capital': Oh, that they would have put (old, Matador compilation filler) 'Hugh Dallas' in here instead. But they didn't. not that this is bad - but 'Hugh Dallas' would have been a perfect center for Happy Music For Happy People to coalesce around. Same sadness, same restraint, but one instance of audible vocals on the album (Is the night so bad/Were we so bad today?/I only know/I almost fell today would have fit perfectly). Instead it gets this, lovely but not as lovely as '2 Rights Make 1 Wrong' from the last album. The noisy bit a bit like the end of 'My Father My King'. Not bad, but as the one longform piece here I was expecting it to be the center, and it's just sort of sturm und drang. Initially disquieting, but all that meant was that I had to recalibrate my expectations of what I get from a Mogwai album. Will disappoint those who want another Young Team, but Mogwai have moved on.
'Golden Porsche': Like 'Secret Pint' after a good cry. I love that Mogwai's drummer only seems to know 3-4 tricks but that they work every time. Again that repeated piano chord, going up and up and up... The album title may be ironic, but this is still Mogwai's most uplifting work. For the first time I don't get any sense of specificity from their work, however. As long as it's this lovely that's not really a complaint.
'I Know You Are But What Am I?': Now, finally a repeated chord (again on piano) that points down. No guitars, but you don't really notice the first time. Measured and strangely demanding, as if waiting for a response. The calmer relative of 'Sine Wave'. Again, buried anger. Slowing the pace for the grand finale.
'Stop Coming To My House': And grand it is: like the second part of 'I Know You Are..', now rising, through waves of static, until finally the whole thing just crashes together, coming apart in the atmosphere, a moment of pure transport. Ends with just that mournful series of bleeps as the guitars feed back and the drums slowly disappear from sight.
Nick Southall said it best about this album: "they've gained a level of subtlty and control over the nuances of calm that's added dimensions to their sound." Enough bands, including older Mogwai, focus on sprawl and epic and space. Let them continue to turn out perfectly formed miniatures, forty-minute pocket movements, as long as they're this good at it.
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