Welcome all to ๐๐ผ๐ป๐ป๐ผ๐น๐น๐โ๐ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐๐๐ฌ ๐ผ๐ง๐ฉ๐๐จ๐ฉ ๐๐ฅ๐ค๐ฉ๐ก๐๐๐๐ฉ playlists.
๐ฟ๐๐ซ๐๐กโ๐จ ๐๐๐๐๐ฉ ๐๐๐ฃ๐ – ๐พ๐ง๐๐จ๐ ๐๐ค๐ง๐ก๐
Charles spies with his little piesโฆ
Have you ever wondered if someone you know is perhaps not quite who they seem? Someone you have known a long time? Someone you feel you know well, yet at the same time you realise you know very little about them? Someone who perhaps has to disappear for brief bursts? They say itโs business, yet youโre never actually quite sure what it is they do, other than โbusinessโ. Does this ring a bell? Itโs somewhat familiar to me. I know a chap who goes away regularly. Seemingly every few weeks. Actually, not seemingly; this happens. Heโs always extremely busy, yet able to fit in anything that life hurls at him. If you want something done, ask a busy person – so the saying goes. Sure, he could simply be doing his job in โbusinessโ. Sure, he might simply not be interested in talking about said โbusinessโโฆ But I canโt help but wonderโฆ
Wonder about the ins and outs of his business? No, no, no. Thatโs deadly dull, and Iโm not remotely interested. I canโt help but wonder if this โbusinessโ is a usual sort of business. You see, I have a somewhat overactive imagination (it makes life more interesting). Iโm also natural inquisitive, and (unfortunately) naturally suspicious. Okay, letโs just say what I mean. I think my friend might a spy. This is based entirely on precisely zero. There is pretty much no reason why I should be thinking this. Perhaps itโs just me trying to make life a little less dull; who knows. Perhaps itโs because I quite like the idea of knowing James Bond. But then again, there is always the chance I am right. Yes, itโs doubtful, but it could very well be true. I will probably never know. Should he actually be a spy, I should hope heโs on the right side. It would crush me to discover that not only had he been a spy for all these years without mentioning a word of it (heโd be a rubbish spy if he had), but that he had been working for the โother sideโ. Only just very recently have I learnt that the chap is moving. He and his family are going to live in a faraway land. A place with an entirely different culture and way of life. And it was THIS that confirmed my suspicions (without actually confirming a damned thing). He told me in person, over a pie. Suspicious, no? A pie is smart, neat and nonchalant on the outside, yet filled with secrets. Had my friend been a pie all these years?
So, this pie of mine. I went into my novelistic mind as I imagined him crossing that border; something he does frequently. The difference being, this pie had always returned. Not this time. I gather it is to be for roughly two years – I assume the length of the โTop Secret operationโ. Once he arrives there, he will be a new man. A man with no past. A man with no acquaintances. He will be welcomed as a โman of businessโ, not a โpie of businessโ, for to them he has no secrets. There, he will seem much as he had seemed here. Just a businessman going about his duties. And yet, still, I canโt help but wonder. Is he sharing secrets? Is he secretly filming at all times through his electronic glasses? Is he taking coded notes? Is he seen to enter a cafรฉ at 1pm, only to leave at 6pm through the back door? But then I wonder about something else. He is my friend, you seeโฆ I wonder if he is safe? I also wonder if he is armedโฆ! But then I start to wonder furtherโฆ IS he my friend? Does his family actually exist? Is everything simply an illusion formed from a manner and what I have been told? Or am I just unhealthily suspicious, bordering on paranoid? I suspect I am simply using my powers of observation and imagination, blending the two to best feed my creative compulsion. My pie is probably not a pie, and instead as blatant as a roast beef dinner. What you see is what you get.
On the subject of pies- sorry: spies; allow me to welcome you to something refreshing in all ways. The song is โDevilโs Right Handโ. The artist is a duo called Crash World. They have never appeared here before, despite having released some excellent songs over the years. These two Vancouverites (or Vancouverians, as I like to say – pronounced Van-koo-VAIR-ee-ans) both have Scottish roots. Although a duo, these two make sure to hire other musicians as well for the recordings, so it does still sound like a full band, rather than an acoustic duo. I have always gone for their music; mainly because they take it seriously. Some artists make music that sounds like a casual afterthought. Something that occurs briefly while theyโre stirring their tea. But to make something really worth listening to, one has to put in the time and effort. The days of the repeated-four-chord-sequence must surely die soon. The lyrics that slumber without so much as a turn from night to morn. The predictability that bears the question: โWhat for?โโฆ I like artists who show their worth. Artists who challenge themselves. Artists who bother. Artists who genuinely know how to make great music, through their own years of experience. And this is just where Crash World comes in. These two Scottish Canadians have a certain confidence in their sound and manner that doesnโt come close to arrogance. Itโs more like โWhat, you mean YOU canโt do this? I thought we ALL couldโ. When something is so natural to you, it seems impossible that anyone else might struggle with it.
These two eccentric lads are Glen MacLeod and Graham MacDonald. Glen is the writer, guitarist and also does backing vocals. Heโs the one with the style. Graham is the voice of the band. Heโs the one with the weighty backbone. I suppose in a way, Glen is the Paul, and Graham is the Lennon. To be fair, both Glen and Graham are not only eccentric, but both very stylish. They both look inherently cool. Whether it be Glenโs facial hair (imagine if Salvador Dalรญ had opted for a beard), bowler hat, black suit, black shirt and white tie, or Grahamโs heavyset, imposing stature, snazzy Las Vegas jackets and sporting what seems like a colourful yet flattened hedgehog atop his otherwise shaven noggin, the name of the game is style. And a style of their own. But putting all this aside, itโs the music that brings them together (or at least keeps them together). And itโs the music that lured me in. Despite the subject matter being frankly fascinating, I must admit it was the music that initially tugged at my elbow, yelling โPick Me! PICK ME!โ. And so I did it pick it. Of course, the pro sound made the experience pleasing and more enticing than some other releases, but it was the songwriting that kept me listening. As to the lyrical theme of the song, itโs about the idea of a spy in a foreign land, from the spyโs perspective. And yes, this spy is seemingly working for the other side. I donโt know if I have ever heard a song about that!! Just SO refreshing.
But what else is refreshingโฆ? The music. How itโs written the way songs USED to be written. Sections within sections, lines leading to other lines, one chord setting up a new chord, unexpected constant change, but never feeling awkward or jazzy. Most songs these days feel like a triangle: walk for one mile, turn left, walk for one mile, turn left, walk for one mile – congratulations, itโs over. Whereโs the JOURNEY?! It should feel like a train trip through the Scottish Highlands, not a flight from London to New York. Hereโs a load of timestamps for ya: 0:00, 0:05, 0:10, 0:15, 0:26, 0:33โฆ Just over 30 seconds in, and we have already had all these surprises. Fast forward to 1:00 and we get 1:10, 1:21, 1:26 – itโs just constant change. This is what songwriting was always supposed to be. Not just four chords ad infinitum. Music is supposed to evolve, not repeat. Sure, we need the hooks to repeat through the course of the song, but it shouldnโt be possible to condense a whole song into 20 seconds without missing loads out. So, yeah, thatโs the writing side of things – itโs exquisite, and it frankly kinda gives me hope for the future of music. As to the singing and the playingโฆ Phwoah! Graham has just one job here: singing. Boy, he belts like caramel. At first I was thinking he sounded like a Texan Bryan Ferry, but then I realised heโs actually more like Elvis – as he might have been had he lived through the 80s, and eaten fewer peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwiches (I still shudder every time I hear that concoction). As to the instruments, theyโre sublimely played. Glen has already been busy with the writing, but his layers of guitars are session-man-good, with a couple of cracking little solos in the second half. But what really grabs me in the instrumentation is the bass and drums. The drums will be more obvious to you, but do try to pay attention to the bass. Much of the time it is neatly bold in the low end, but other times it has the most fabulously nosy manner! Itโs like an eager garden mammal when faced with the prospect of just so many nuts ripe for the picking. Yup, thatโs how Iโll end this piece.
That garden mammal is full, and so am I. Look, I started with a pie, and finished with two Big Macs.
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