pop music

i am tired of indie music.

i don't mean for this to make me sound like some salty old geezer, bent on destroying all that matters to people who most likely buy everything they can get their hands on that says "organic". i also don't want it to sounds like i'm a jaded hip kid trying to out-ironic the next guy who thinks it's cool to wear an iron maiden t-shirt and not be able to sing, or even name, one track of theirs. no, i just want to make a point.

so perhaps i should rephrase myself: i like disposable music.

having ended up in a country that really does take quite seriously celebrity culture, gossip mags, x-factor and take that i can't quite see what's wrong with pop music. unless, of course, it sounds like most of what is on x-factor or take that. but that is beside the point because there are plenty of decent top-40 bubble-pop club hits that don't sound like the backstreet boys but make you want to dance more than, say, elliott smith. comparing artists such as elliott smith to throwaway stars like rhianna is a bit like comparing your 4 year old nephew's recent finger painting to a 15 foot tall portrait of Charles I - you're not really supposed to do it. and i'm fine with this. except for that elliott smith can't make me dance like rhianna can. and, let's face it, sometimes finger painting is much more fun than stuffy portraits that are so old that if they touch air they catch fire.

no, i love disposable music. i love having this one song stuck in my brain, rattling around like the marble in a spray can. of all the groups in the world to remind me how fun it is to listen to a song that just, well, has fun with itself, sigur ros blew me away. "gobbledigook" is some loud, crashy, shouty 3 minute romp in a forest or a dance hall or an empty city street. it can be listened to through headphones or live in an arena but it should never be quiet. just like kings of leon's "sex on fire" or mgmt's "kids" or rhianna's "disturbia" it should be as loud as fucking possible. it should be so loud that if the family cat were to blunder in front of the speaker it would find itself suddenly confused and making sick on the new carpet uncontrollably for the next week. these songs should be played with friends around. or while you're alone. naked. and dancing.

i have my andrew birds, my m. wards, my band of horses...eses. but i don't necessarily want to listen to my favourite songs from each of these artists for fear that they will wear out (it should be noted, however, that i have been listening to post-war a few times a week for a couple years now and it has not wearied). but with this pop crap you can just listen to "black and gold" 85 times on repeat, throw it away and wait for the next one to come along. but this, and this is important, is the distinguishing factor: good music makes you dance, memorably good music has staying power. that is the difference between my sigur ros and sam sparro.

just because you listen to pop doesn't mean you like axe body spray or are a business major (i have yet to conclude my study on whether the inverse is true: does using axe body spray make you a business major?) - it just means that you probably like to have a good time. and most of the people i've met over here like to have a good time.

-e


sam sparro's black & gold


black & gold on bbc radio 1 pics n' things!

in which our hero get his head exploded for a second time

sigur ros. it must be embarassing to open for these guys unless, of course, you're icelandic. over the last seven years the quintet has been opened, mainly, by two groups of icelandic musicians: first was amina, the irresistable group of women that included one who was rather resourceful with a saw and others that could turn zippo lighters and door latches into beautiful little trinkets of melody. they warmed up the audience with curious rhythms and counterrhythms punctuated by adorable clinks and plunks from bells, keyboards and violins. it was as if you had opened up a child's jewlery box and instead of finding a spinning ballerina inside you discovered a world of colours and light. they warmed up the audience the first time i saw sigur ros in 2006 at the arlene schnitzer in portland.

tonight was a little bit of a different story. the alexandra palace is a venue perfectly suited for sigur ros and any acts you might think proper enough to open for them. this is evidenced in the very title of the establishment (read: palace) and tonight was almost no exception. let's start with the band's name: "for a quiet reflection" or "for a moment's consideration" or something along those lines. okay, moving on. how about the band's image: four skinny white guys bent over standard instruments, somehow shrouding themselves in light. hmm, still not really seperating themselves from anything much here. well i guess that leaves the sound, hardly the most important aspect of a live show (sarcasm, etc.): oh, wait, they stole the pedal boards from one of austin's most prestigious musical groups. if you know me you know that explosions in the sky is and has been standard go-to material for me when i'm not quite sure how i'm feeling. it's always there and has acheived "comfort-music" status. so when these four guys started swinging over their guitars and jabbing their feet at pedals and delays and violin-effects and tube-screamers and overdriveXXX9000extreemes i began feeling a little nostalgic over material i hadn't listened to in a while. and, like most prog-rock/post-rock the 11 minute tracks begin getting lost in themselves. i always find it interesting that i know that there are songs i like by these bands but i can never remember the melodies and distinguish them from other tracks from even the same album until i hear it. and that's how this opener felt: like a nice road trip that is plesant enough, engaging and all, but when you get back home you can't remember where you visted.

sigur ros played for two hours. they ripped my chest open, removed every organ, polished them and carefully replaced each, bit by bit, rearranging here and there so as to make me a more efficiantly functioning human being. there was a giant waterfall, fans blowing fake snow and finally, in an orgasm of light, sound and gutwrenching kick drum from "Gobbledigook", confetti was blown out into the palace in the fashion one would expect from a ticket tape parade. it looked like we had just won the war all over again.

more to come. my internet time is up. too much time ranting on the opener and not on sigur ros.

-e pics n' things!