Welcome all to ππΌπ»π»πΌπΉπΉπβπ ππΌπΏπ»π²πΏ, 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 πππ¬ πΌπ§π©ππ¨π© ππ₯π€π©π‘ππππ© playlists.
πππ£ππ£ππ – πππππ‘ππ¨
Charles has only himself to blameβ¦
Music can be an outlet. It can join or define your mood. It can also be background nothing. Or, it can be unlistenable. More often than not, though, it can be an escape. A place to hide; to meditate away your thoughts. Your choice of choosing is usually – as it is for me – rather important. Get it wrong and youβve severely let yourself down. Get it right and the previously fragmented pieces form a whole. If, for whatever reason youβre low, donβt be naive or gullible in thinking that a shot of βhappy musicβ will disinfect your state of mind. Lowness comes and goes in all of us. It is something that we simply have to endure. Iβm not suggesting you wallow, but, like illness, it cannot be shunned. You might be able to put it aside for a brief while, but soon enough it will bite you, and with clenched teeth it will cling with great tenacity. No, in lowness, βhappy musicβ is not the answer. You must ride the storm, waves and all. But Radiohead is usually not the answer, unless you enjoy punishing yourself – that comes laterβ¦ The right choice of music can and will give strength, meaning and weight to the declining situation.
While the right music should lead you to meditate (in a manner), ridding yourself of extraneous distractions and pointless nothings, said meditation will leave you with the reduction you require. Only the thoughts that matter, with an increased clarity. Only then can you start to observe yourself. Analyse, even. From this point forth, you are your very own alienist (or βshrinkβ, if you prefer). With the clutter removed you can now clearly survey the carnage. Your initial query, βWhat have I done?β, is just that; an honest query. So honest as to almost be expecting an answer from above. But alas, there is no such reply. Then comes the first in a series of alternative emphases: βWHAT have I done?ββ¦ It demands a list in a childishly stubborn manner. The next almost lies in lost despair: βWhat HAVE I done?ββ¦ It suggests a genuine ignorance or unawareness of anything having ever been done. It usually comes complete with wide-open puppy-dog eyes. With still nothing close to any kind of response, our third alternative brings the eyelids right down with an aggressive stare akin to Lennon without glasses. Itβs vicious: βWhat have EYE done??ββ¦ Itβs a full-on boxer-defence stance, very much ready for a fight. While it suggests innocence, it heavily borders on blame. And finally we reach the dreaded final alternative: βWhat have I DONE??ββ¦ Itβs a realisation that the ogre within is very much alive and kicking. You know what youβve done, and itβs all your fault.
Is the automatic reaction to repent and fix thingsβ¦? Is it, bugger! I mentioned earlier that punishment would come laterβ¦ The time is now! You give yourself a damned good scoulding. You thrash yourself into oblivion – if verbally. You mentally mutilate your being until the sweat pours and the energy is nothing more than weedy. And then you keel over, head propped up by the wall. It is not enough, but for now this movement has come to a close and an interval is much needed. Definitely time for a drink. You seeβ¦? THIS is what music can do for you. While it may not sound like much fun, to feel is to live. No one wants pain. No one should be forced to endure pain. But if the pain is already there (through any means), you might as well use it and work out what the hell it is. A friendly word of advice, though (why is it that whenever anyone says the word βfriendlyβ in this context it is usually very much unfriendly and instead suggesting a threat?), try not to beat yourself up too much over whatever it is that you think you may or may not have done. Maybe just concentrate on making the whole saga an altogether finer one. βThen you can start, to make it betterβ. Failing that, you can just let it be. Either way, thanks, Macca!
From one penance to another, we slide into the realm of what got me here in the first place. Please welcome agablis (yes, all lowercase) to the Corner. My clever typing keyboard seems to have a tendency to try to turn this artistβs name into a dry, white wine, so apologies if at any point this artist segues into a Chablis. As to the name agablis, donβt ask me; I have absolutely no idea. But neither do I much care, because weβre not here for names; weβre here for music. And music is just what agablis does best. Despite the sound, this is not a band, group or beat combo. This is just one Oregonian named Sean Hurst. Being unsure as to whether this artist wishes to have his real name known (and what with me being slightly uncomfortable with an artist name being totalmente lowercase), I shall refer to him as βthe dudeβ (a word so seldom writ by this scratchy nib of mine). I simply feel there is an air of cool to his music, and thus dudish. When Iβm on the look out for new music, it all depends very much on how Iβm feeling. I think by now you all know how close I am to βthe songβ, and usually it is chords and melody that I crave. However, sometimes I just need oomph. This could come in the form of gritty rock or even a sneaky, cheeky sort of electronic dance. These days, though, I do notice how much I need to feel. The music must suit, fit and elope with me to somewhere where people are not. My cosy affair with the one that knows me so well. βYou and the Night and the Musicβ, replacing you with me. It might be classical, it might be jazz, it might even be weird and wonderful world music (Iβve lately been really into traditional Jewish music). But sometimes it needs to be something that is closer to me. Something I have caressed for just so many years. Guitars. And this is where the dude came in. He fixed me right up, like a doc.
The dude is a self-confessed lover of vinyl, which although pleasing me greatly, frankly doesnβt surprise me. No other listening method is so tactile, so organic and so in tune with its owner. Oh, and thatβs another thing; with vinyl you actually OWN it. This would have sounded absurd 20 or 30 years ago, but these days we are basically renting our music collection. Not so much a collection but more like a cluttered drawer full of broken bits that may or may not come in useful one day. A far cry from oneβs prized record collection built over the course of decades, relinquishing you of mucho pennies in the process. I have always adored physical vinyl records, but could never continue to keep a proper collection going, simply because itβs a very expensive habit now. The other reason is that I mainly listen to music on the go. And it always seemed a little pretentious to bring a battery-operated turntable on the Tube or the bus. Not to mention awkward. Not to mention embarrassing and absolutely absurd (if a little hilarious). And so I stick with streaming for now. The dude, on the other hand, simply HAD to be a vinyl fan, due to the very music he makes. Itβs shoegazer stuff. The perfect thing for my own self-loathing. But potentially, the perfect thing to make me wonder if it is myself I am loathing, or in fact if there is anything in the world actually worth loathing at all! Of COURSE the dude loves vinyl. He makes music to dwell to!
If youβd like a quick point of reference, maybe have a listen to Mal FantΓ΄me and Mercury Teardrop. There, you will get a little more than halfway. But every journey is different, and every journey deserves attentive attention. Immediately the space is wide and cavernous, like early Verve or early Suede. Itβs deep and atmospheric, but from 0:11 to 0:27 the bass is surprisingly dry and potent, which I have come to expect from Chablis. It picks rhythmically in time with itself while the ambience hangs like a polluted fog. That is, until 0:27, where the depth of its de-tuned drone really comes into colour. I say de-tuned not in terms of dissonance, but in the way that all guitars and basses are de-tuned by one whole step, where E becomes D. I havenβt actually checked this, but it certainly gives the sound of that βdrop-Dβ tone. At this point, guitars are creating a wall of misty soldiers, drums are kicking like theyβre stoned but still on full form, and the bass is, frankly, swinging. All the while it seems as though there are some stunning synths loud in the background, but I suspect these are all guitars. The dude is certainly an expert at sound design. So far, the piece has been entirely instrumental, which, although a heavy dream of a thing, can get a bit βmehβ after a while. So itβs just as well the dude opts for 0:48 as the correct time to bring in the most sensuous voices you never knew you needed. I chose that turn of phrase because the whole piece feels like a work of art in the form of hypnotism. The music is there to lull you into whatever mood the creator feels is right (heavy, yet clear and receptive) – the swing of the watch – and then you are in full eager form to listen to what the hypnotist wants you to listen to. From the heaviness of the music (true opium in sound), come the airy heavens of these voices. You NEED this. Now, these voices are undoubtedly femaleβ¦ And yet, I donβt believe they are. I canβt say for sure, but having realised the extent of the dudeβs talents in terms of sound design, I wouldnβt put it past him to have sang these lines himself, then manipulated them in such a way that they sound female. Either that or he just has a girly voice. Or itβs someone else singing. But again, I do not care. I care about art, which is what I am listening to. Pure art.
At 2:13, the song does just what I had hoped, but really not what I had expected. Its soldiers disperse in all angles (many out of view), and sparse electronic drums replace the previously thwacked skins. But at 2:38 the skins are back but at double tempo – now, I REALLY didnβt see THAT one coming! It brings a more pop sensibility (perhaps sensible in this present climate of vinyl unlovers). And weβre only halfway through the song! 3:43 then orders the soldiers to stand at ease, allowing for the voices to come to the fore. Nah, those voices have GOT to be female. Iβll probably find out eventually from the dude himself. The rest of the song remains in double tempo once the soldiers have resumed their posts. Remember, this is vibe music; and boy, does it vibe!
Blur once coined the line βHeβs a well-wisher and he wishes you wellβ. The dudeβs a dwell-wisher and he wishes you dwell. He got his wish. Iβve got the bruises to prove it!
Finally. Now I can glug my well-earned glass of chilled agablis.
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