Devendra Banhart "Ma" 2019****

I recently saw Devendra play in Rotterdam's Annabel stage. In some respects he was quite different from the youth I remembered seeing at the AN Club in Athens, 15 years ago: the salt-and-pepper beard, the way he acted as the leader of his band instead of "just one of the guys". In other ways, he was the same: his openness and sweetly awkward demeanor, for example. An air of Peter Pan-ness and unworldliness that I guess only artists can afford. He mostly played songs from his last 3 albums (the ones I didn't own, though I fixed that deficiency on the spot). My girlfriend remarked that he was "more pop" this time while I was thinking "jazzier". I guess we were both right and that the songs, like the man, have evolved while retaining something singular.

Case in point, his latest album "Ma". Its luscious laid-back sound and judicious arrangements are certainly more mainstream than the psychedelic lo-fi folk of his early records. Where the Latin touches once seemed idiosyncratic, now they seem to be integrated in an easy listening approach. "Love Song" for example has that lounge feel, while "Ami"s mellow sax is pure 70's yacht rock. Thankfully the arrangements are always tasteful and clever, never overtly sentimental, while the laid-back guitar sound throughout the album is also quite enjoyable. It opens with him asking in his trembly Donovan/Bolan-esque voice "Is This Nice? Do You Like it?" as if he's really eager to please. Not what you expect from an "indie" artist, but it's true that the quirkiness of the music here never gets in the way of its listenability, making it one of his most accessible albums. "Kantori Ongaku" for example manages to mingle Latin and Japanese influences to produce a pleasantly light and breezy tune. Incredibly the album is at once pretty consistent in mood but also very varied in style: "Memorial" is reminiscent of Leonard Cohen, "Carolina" of Gilberto Gil, and "Abre las Manos" of Manu Chao. The latter expresses his concern and support for the people of his native Venezuela in the difficult times they are facing, always from a human perspective and without politicizing. "Now All Gone" is strange, featuring a slow trip-hop rhythm with a chorus reminiscent of Indian tribal chanting. "Taking a Page" has some trippy Asian parts, and "October 12" is another hushed bossanova ballad. "My Boyfriend's in the Band" is the closest he gets to his late '00's California rock style, while "The Lost Coast" is a hazy atmospheric piece. Closing ballad "Will I See You Tonight?" pairs him with 60's folk chanteuse Vashti Bunyan for a result that reminds me of certain Tindersticks duets from the 90's. Just like the music, the cover artwork (surely by Devendra himself as usual) makes a break with the past, replacing the intricate penwork of his previous albums (which I quite liked) with a striking and somewhat primitive oil painting of flowers. As for the album title, I've read two different explanations: one maintains that the album is a celebration of motherhood and the nurturing spirit, the other one suggests that it comes from the Japanese word "Ma" (間) which translates as "negative space", "pause" or "the space between two structural parts". I'm inclined to go with the latter explanation, seeing as there is a strong Japanese air in the record (among the most obvious: "Kantori Ongaku" is a tribute to Yellow Magic Orchestra leader Haruomi Hosono and features a Japanese chorus). More probably the singer knew of both meanings and chose a term that is open for interpretation. Final thought: seeing as Devendra's manchild voice is a bit too cute anyway, wrapping it in a cloud of warm woodwinds and strings risks sounding too polished, as in missing an edge. Which this album doesn't always avoid, but that's not too important when it contains some of the most charming music I've heard this year. Even if you're a snubby intelectual who likes edgier stuff, you can't deny it makes for delicious ear candy.

**** for Is This Nice?, Kantori Ongaku, Ami, Memorial, Carolina, Love Song, Abre las Manos, My Boyfriend's in the Band, Will I See You Tonight?

*** for Now All Gone, Taking a Page, October 12

** for The Lost Coast

The Fool "The Fool...plus" 1969**

Even though The Fool's -let's face it- neglectable music output hasn't earned them a place in history, they'll be remembered as a footnote in pop music's most well-read chapter, that of The Beatles. Simon Posthuma and Marijke Kooger were a couple of Amsterdam hippie artists who dabbled in a bit of everything: clothes design, painting, photography... you name it. They felt the allure of Swinging London calling and relocated there, forming art collective The Fool (named after a tarot card) together with friends Josje Leeger and Barry Finch. Their psychedelic designs with their imaginative use of colour and fairy tale references became instant hits, and they soon began designing record covers and dressing the city's hippest artists and models. The Beatles were fans, and immediately hired them to decorate, paint and run their official boutique on Baker Street. Having so many musician friends, and after trying their hand on a number of arts, they turned to music as their next project. They flew to New York and produced this album with the help of two Grahams (producer Nash and organist Bond). It's actually during reading a recent piece on the latter that I decided to re-listen this CD. It described The Fool's record as "the worst album ever associated with Graham Bond", which made me return to this album to check if it really is that bad. It certainly is a weird slice of acid folk that stands better as a period piece than as a listening experience. The music is quirky and childish but in tandem with the psychedelic cover and colorful costumes, it gives off a certain feelgood charm. You're often reminded of Incredible String Band, another kooky psychedelic folk band whose album cover was designed by The Fool. The LP opens with "Fly", a playful minstrel tune with choral lead vocals, flutes and tambourines augmented by the sound of chirping birds and other special effects. "Voice on the Wind" introduces itself as a piano sonata, turns into a ballad, then into a recitation followed by some chanting and a bagpipe solo. Every bit stands well enough on its own, but the finished song... what a mess! The bagpipes continue into lead single "Rainbow Man", the most rocking song with its Bo Diddley beat and mean harmonica - but doesn't it sound suspiciously similar to The Creation's "Painter Man"?

"Cry for Me" is an old-timey ballad/lullaby and "No One Will Ever Know" an upbeat number with the odd charm of children's' songs where Josje and Marijke sound like 13-year olds. "Reincarnation" is a horrid combination of nursery rhyme and hare krishna music and "Hello Little Sister" is where the kindergarten schtick really starts to get on your nerves. Thankfully it's followed by a "Keep On Pushin", a psych-jazz instrumental where Bond's swinging organ and sax blend well with (probably Nash's) harmonica, bagpipes, and percussive instruments. "Inside Your Mind" is another whimsical singalong folk ditty and "Lay It Down" the only bona fide psychedelic folk ballad, reminiscent of Country Joe & The Fish. The CD is augmented by two bonus tracks (the "plus" of the title). Of those, "We Are One" is a nice mod psychedelic track that reminds me of John's Children and Nirvana (the UK group of the 60's of course, not the same-named grunge giants) while "Shining Light" is another cute childish jug band tune. At times entertaining and infuriating in its weirdness, in the end I guess your reaction to it will depend on what mood listening to this album finds you in. Only delve into it if you're feeling nostalgia for 60's flower children or your (slightly less naive) kindergarten days.

*** for Fly, No One Will Ever Know, Keep On Pushin', Inside Your Mind, Lay It Down,We Are One, Shining Light

** for Voice on the Wind, Rainbow Man, Cry for Me, Reincarnation, Hello Little Sister

Joanna Newsom "Ys" 2006*****

That's it - my Belgian sojourn is over and I'm back "home" in Delft in the Netherlands. Normally home should mean Athens where I've spent most of my life but, after 6 years away, it almost feels alien to me. Not because of the duration of my absence but of the way everything back in the Greece has turned around in the last years. From my point of view the country is hardly recognizable: The austerity program imposed by IMF and EU has demolished both economy (deep recession and unemployment) and democracy (laws and government acts must be validated by technocrats operating without accountability on a strict neo-liberal agenda). The leftist government elected last year with an anti-austerity mandate resisted for 6 months before submitting to naked force and blackmail. Now the dominant feeling is one of resignation, desperation and anger. The country I left behind was not rich, but people weren't scavenging the dubsters for food. Nazis were laughed at or chased away, not elected in the parliament. I now feel more at home at quiet old Delft with its medieval buildings, beautiful canals and the most square and conservative students I've ever seen. 

Anyway, during my last week in Brussels I got to visit the city's grandly named Palais de Beaux Arts, which people have been pronouncing boz' ar' for so long it had to finally embrace the name change. Inside, though, it's still the typical baroque old European concert hall. Hardly the place for pop concerts but then harpist/singer/songwriter Joanna Newsom isn't your average pop star. Though a star she certainly is, the darling of photographers and film directors who love to tap into her slightly kooky fairytale personna. And while I read in a recent interview that she hates being referred to in those terms, she surely acts and dresses the part. Record covers like this don't help too: whose idea was it to dress like the daughter of druid Panoramix posing for a Botticelli portrait? Her dress in last week's concert was no exception, although these days she looks less elvish maiden and more fairy godmother. As for her music, in the beginning it was associated with the so-called freak folk movement and artists like Devendra Banhart and Vetiver, but it really is sui generis. For once, she must be the only modern artist using the harp as a lead instrument (she also played some piano in the concert). Her harp playing style is highly personal, neither classical nor Celtic or African, and her songs are often overlong and experimental. As for her voice - let's just call it unusual. Analogies with Bjork have been employed as to her singing style, which may not be an exact description but is a fair comparison. Like Bjork, you'll either love her voice or hate it, probably the latter.
Or you'll eventually embrace it, because that is the voice that goes with these songs - dreamy, childlike and idiosyncratic just like the music and lyrics. In the concert she sang with abandon, at times abruptly raising her voice, not caring about the odd bum note. Here she is more restrained, although the vocal emphasis is always on emotion rather than technique. It's telling that her vocal and harp were recorded by Steve Albini, an indie producer with a grounded sound vérité approach, only to be dressed with exquisite orchestrations by Van Dyke Parks, famous for the pop symphonies he produced for The Beach Boys. Strings and oboes abound, lending the music a lush symphonic feel. Lyrics are intricate and integral to the song. I guess we needn't ask the eternal question to songwriters, whether they write music or lyrics first. They most certainly pre-existed as poems or even short stories. An analysis would take forever, so I'll just post a link to a website dedicated to that purpose. Opener "Emily" is about her (astrophysicist) sister of the same name, combining shared personal memories and references to celestial bodies. An intricate, almost progressive, 12-minute piece it nevertheless is probably the most accessible and popular track of the record and even provided one of the highlights in the Brussels concert 10 years later. "Monkey & Bear" features Bjork-ish vocals and playful classical arrangements, as befits a fable populated by woodland creatures. "Sawdust & Diamonds" is slower and more understated and "Only Skin" a long poem filled with ingenious wordplay. The music follows many twists and turns, like a mini-symphony consisting of many parts. Closer "Cosmia" is (at 7+ minutes!) the shortest track here, relatively upbeat with supreme harp playing.

Newsom and band at the Bozar, Brussels 24/2/2016

Although Newsom comes from the alternative rock scene and is often categorized as folk, "Ys" (incidentally, the name of a lost Atlantis-like city of Celtic myths) is closer to progressive rock or even classical music in its grand scope and ambition. She'd later follow it with (another ambitious feat) a triple CD of more conventional songs drawing from jazz, pop and appalachian folk. It's perhaps best she didn't try to duplicate Ys's sound, allowing it to stand alone as a quixotic gesture and hyperbolic monument that'll forever polarize opinions. In any case, she continues to be a wonderfully eccentric, romantic and creative female figure in the tradition of Kate Bush and Tori Amos. May she stay in the clouds forever!

***** for Emily, Cosmia

**** for Monkey & Bear, Sawdust & Diamonds, Only Skin

Música Dispersa "Música Dispersa" 1970****

Barcelona, rooftop view

I recently visited Barcelona for the first time. I flew there directly from Rome and did not expect it to make a big impression on me because, let's face it: Cappella Sistina, fontana di Trevi, Colosseum...What can compare with that, except maybe Paris? 2 days later, I was ready to pack it up and move to Barcelona permanently. It must be one of the best places to live in the world: great weather, nice bars and cafes, good food, lovely seaside, beautiful architecture (even discounting the buildings by Gaudi which are out of this world), reasonable prices and relaxed atmosphere. I know that official statistics say that the most livable cities are in Switzerland, Scandinavia, Germany, Canada etc... Pffff! Have they even asked the poor (OK, they're rich but I feel sorry for them nonetheless) inhabitants of, say, boring old Zurich? I wouldn't move there for a €10.000 monthly salary and a brand-new Mercedes, which is what they have to give their citizens to persuade them to stay. Not that Barcelona is poor by Mediterranean standards. The financial crisis and austerity policies imposed by the IMF and EU have reduced the quality of living all over Southern Europe considerably. Greece has suffered the worst, and Spain isn't far behind but the region of Catalonia does relatively well, which is one of the reasons that the idea of Catalan independence seems to be gaining ground. Now, if that was the only reason, I'd be all against it, just like I'm against the Italian Lega Nord and Belgian Vlaams Belang. Those disgusting petty fascists fancy themselves superior to the rest of their compatriots and just figured they'd split their country so that the richer provinces can keep all the money to themselves. God forbid their taxes should fund roads and hospitals in Sicily. But, while nationalism of this kind is hideous, I do not succumb to the sirens of globalisation either. Anti-EU protesters in Greece were labelled as nationalists, but the nationalism of the oppressed has also been a form of defence: Greeks and Serbs fought the Ottoman empire for independence, so did the Irish against the British empire. Hell, if it comes to that you could brand Gandhi as a nationalist because he also fought to rid India of its foreign rulers. When it comes to the question of Catalan (or Scottish, for that matter) independence, one must bear in mind each country's history and politics. 

Camp Nou, home to FC Barcelona

Gaudi's Casa Batlló

Catalonia does have a distinct historical course and its own language (all signs are written in two languages, Catalan and Spanish. Felt like I was back in Brussels in that respect). Its independence, or at least relative autonomy, has been violently squashed repeatedly by Madrid, most notably during the rule of fascist dictator Franco.  It seems logical to let the people decide democratically for once and everyone should respect their will. What they'll choose is up to them, but to quote Greek philosopher Antisthenes "power lies in unity"- so long as diversity and autonomy are respected, of course. Oh, how simple it would have been if only the European Union was a democratic community of equality and solidarity as was advertised - instead of a mechanism to ensure the profits of the powerful against the interests of the majority. We'd all still be Greek, Spanish or Catalan but first and foremost European citizens.‎ As it is, nationalism will keep growing, either with the relatively benign face of the Catalan drive for independence or the ugly xenophobic face of Le Pen and Wilders.
For those of you that skipped the long politico-touristic intro (and who can blame you, really?), I mentioned my recent visit to Barcelona. As I always do on such occasions, I made a rather comprehensive tour of the city's record shops, which I'll present in a relevant post. In every shop I kept asking the clerks for tips on Spanish rock albums. Everybody agreed that the best Spanish prog record of all time was undoubtedly the sole album by Música Dispersa, which also just happened to be from Catalonia. Strange, then, that the rest of the world hasn't caught on. No place for them among the 10,000 groups reviewed on the progarchives website and no mention in most lists of Spanish Rock must-have records. So was it only Catalan national pride that made them sell me this of the all records in the shop? At first I was convinced that yes. After the 3rd or 4th listen, though, it started to grow on me. First of all, it's certainly not prog. Weird acid folk is one way to describe it, though it defies categorisation. Comparisons that come to my mind are Comus, John Fahey, Velvet Underground and Incredible String Band, but this music is more formless, like a series of short jams. It's almost completely acoustic and, despite the presence of various instruments, quite stark. The vocalists use their voices as instruments rather than sing actual words. After an intro of human noises ("Diálogo") we get a rather charming melody ("Anillo-Cromo"), chanted by male and female voices and then picked up by a flute. The acoustic bass is high in the mix playing free-form jazz and the whole piece has a quaint Medieval quality. "Swani" marries ragtime with tropicalia while some kind of whistle plays noises of the kind you'd hear in an pre-war Mickey Mouse film. "Gilda" features a dramatic piano and acoustic percussion. The singing reminds me of Native American recordings while a melancholic harmonica enhances the mood. In contrast, "Rabel" sounds like toothless old shepherds herding sheep or like those Mongolian throat singers that briefly fascinated on the world music circuit. "Eco" is a short instrumental jam with a prominent resounding bass. "Cefalea" continues on the same path, but with vocals and a richer instrumentation. "Arcano" curiously reminded me of latter-day Tom Waits, with its clanging percussion, whistling and wordless moans. That bucolic flute, though, would never find its way into a Tom Waits song. "Fluido" starts off with sensual female voice and a percussive sound like footsteps and it keeps getting louder and louder, resembling the Velvets at their most experimental. "Cítara" is a short instrumental that basically goes nowhere. In the time it took me to write this, the album has gained a (*) in my rating, but I still consider it difficult listening. The audience at the time must have thought the same, because (as I'm informed) the record only sold 400 copies in its time. Not that it's selling by the truckloads now, mind you, but it at least has acquired a certain fame with collectors. Guitarist/vocalist Jaume Sisa has subsequently recorded a number of acoustic folk albums of a more predictable nature and is apparently considered one of the cornerstones of Catalan music. I'd better get used to him, then, if I'm ever going to move to Barcelona...

***** for Gilda

****for Anillo-Cromo, Swani, Cefalea, Arcano 

*** for Eco, Fluido

** for Rabel, Citara

* for Dialogo

Vetiver "The Errant Charm" 2011***

Andy Cabic, haven't I seen you before? Were you perchance a member of Devendra's aptly named Hairy Fairy Band when they played the Underworld Club in Athens about 10 years ago? That's a good credential, so I'll admit I should have delved into your discography earlier. I only did so upon learning you'll be visiting my new town. On their 11/10 Brussels concert, Vetiver got relegated to the small hall of Ancienne Belgique and played to a polite but unenthusiastic crowd of just 60 or 70 people. The band's performance was equally understated, which is not to say that the music was uninteresting or audience indifferent. Rather that their soft rock style does not invite much participation on the audience's part. The setup was pretty basic (just bass-guitar-drums) and Cabic was on fine vocal form, although he rarely raised his voice above a whisper, even when the band fell into a funk groove or broke into a slow chugging boogie. His voice reminded me of someone but I couldn't quite place it. J.J.Cale or Gene Clark or Paul Simon, or all of them at different occasions.
"Errant Charm" is supposedly the point where Vetiver completely abandoned his early freak folk sound for the kind of lush soft rock Californian bands excelled in during the 70's. It's sunny and melodic and makes for great background music, but only rarely grabs your attention. "Ride Ride Ride" is one of the more upbeat and memorable songs, a rocking Velvet Underground-inspired boogie. "Worse For Wear" is another highlight, a sweetly melancholic mid-tempo number with the telling lyric "Happiness is sad". The CD's opening track "It's Beyond Me" is a long song presaging all that's about to follow: ambient synths, atmospheric strings and ethereal vocals. "Can't You Tell" has a more 80's vibe with programmed keys and drums and "Hard To Break" is jangly folk a la Byrds/Big Star. "Fog Emotion" is another 80's - like production that belies its title: with its soft bossa rhythm it speaks more about lazy summer days than cloudy afternoons. "Right Away" is a relatively upbeat song that somehow sounds English to me - it reminds me of a number of indie bands, especially the chiming guitars and feedback during the last seconds. "Wonder Why"on the other hand couldn't be more American, with its Tom Petty guitars, Beach Boys harmonies and clinking pianos. An upbeat number that stands out from the semi-lethargic pace the album sometimes falls into. "Faint Praise" is case in point, an atmospheric but sleepy ballad, of the kind that Mark Knopfler sometimes sang with Dire Straits to show that, in addition to nimble fingers, he's also got a sensitive soul. "Soft Grass" features some ambient synths, folk guitars and whispered vocals. The last two tracks are probably meant to lull you back to sleep after the relative excitement of "Wonder Why" and "Ride Ride Ride". Just like Cabic himself, this album is instantly likeable but, regrettably, mostly forgettable. Nevertheless I  find myself playing it rather often, as it puts me in a good mood every time. Which means I've succumbed to its errant charm, after all.

Vetiver at AB Club, Brussels 11/10/2015

**** for Worse For Wear, Wonder Why, Ride Ride Ride

*** for It's Beyond Me, Can't You Tell, Hard To Break, Fog Emotion, Right Away, Faint Praise

** for Soft Grass