Off The Richter

Review: Los Angeles

2008-10-28T15:40:00.007+11:00

Flying Lotus

Instrumental albums, to make a rash generalisation, aren’t easy to listen to. By nature, consumers of music enjoy having something in a song that they are able to relate to, and, more often than not, this comes in the form of lyrics, either meaningful, something that a listener can analyse and relate to, storing away with the most treasured of memories and images, or totally vapid, but something equally comforting, able to be sung along to alone, or in a mass of drunken emotion. Lyrics, for better or worse, represent the human element of music, and whilst it is still common for whatever is in the background to dictate how successful or acclaimed a song will be, it is often necessary for this music to be covered by words, the lyrical paintjob that adds the finishing touch to the musical vehicle. Even the most acclaimed of instrumental artists often use lyrics sparingly to flesh out their work; the 10th anniversary edition of Endtroducing . . . includes versions of a number of its groundbreaking tracks without the verbal overdubs, and whilst this still leaves phenomenal music, it feels naked without the comfort of language spreading over it.

With this in mind, it is always going to be difficult for artists such as Flying Lotus to attract significant attention. Whilst instrumental albums may be seized upon by those critical publications that often seem to ready to align these recordings with all sorts of esoteric motives that represent a literally wordless ‘fuck you’ to the music industry, the majority of consumers are, for better or worse, unable to devote this sort of produce the attention that it requires to be truly appreciated. Although this is in no way a significant indictment on the output of instrumental artists, it is also important to make a distinction between something that is difficult to listen to, and something that is worth listening to. Too often consumers in the alternative scene are fed lines about how music isn’t worth anything if it doesn’t take a supreme effort to listen to, yet the reality is that there is a line between music being layered, with many emotions to offer the more a listener devotes energy to it, and music that is dense and unreachable, that demands so much from the listener, and gives so little.

Los Angeles, the second full-length offering from Flying Lotus is not unlistenable by any stretch of the imagination, yet at the same time one can’t help but feel that it doesn’t offer much open further listening, not only compared to music of it’s own kind, but also when related to any music out there, and more importantly, music with words. As an album, it works. It has a beginning, it has a middle, and it has an end, like the best of stories, and there is nothing on it that could remotely be described as filler. However, the reality is that, although there isn’t a critic out there that will say it, given that it is an instrumental album, and an electronically based instrumental album at that, it could equally be argued that it is all filler, with nothing of substance around it to fill. It would be doing Flying Lotus a disservice if this were a point of view that was seized upon by everybody, because there is indeed something beneath his frenetic beats and loose instrumentations, a sense of unease that pervades the album, lending it emotional credence that often escapes instrumental work.

This disquietude is interesting to note given the musical context it is placed in within the album itself. Although the work of Flying Lotus is often seen as being instrumental hip-hop, Los Angeles is more ambient electronica than anything else, with high-pitched robotic noises rolling effortlessly over the disjointed basslines and liquid noises that seem to seep from the album. As such, it could almost be a relaxing album to listen to, were it not for the feeling of malaise that comes through at every opportunity, threatening the listener with something that is not quite tangible, but still there, a constant thought in the musical meld that is this album. Tracks are as good as indistinguishable from one another, not only because they use similar effects, but principally because they carry a similar theme, and this is the area in which an instrumental album is able to distinguish itself from its lyric-laden counterparts. Often with lyrical albums, themes are central to songs, with each individual piece of music representing a different feeling or situation, loosely packaged together and released as an album, yet with instrumental albums it is almost as if a great deal more effort is put into constructing albums as a whole when there isn’t the burden of lyrics to get in the way, and this is something that is particularly prevalent in this album.

Overall, Los Angeles is better than most instrumental albums; it retains that sense of themed cohesion throughout the entire recording, and it rarely becomes boring, or prompts the listener to skip a track. However, at the same time, although some people may be deeply affected by this as a piece of art, it seems unlikely that it will be an album that people will go back to regularly, constantly craving a hit of it, as they do some more lyrically based recordings. Flying Lotus has developed much over his four year career, but really, at that age, shouldn’t he be speaking by now?

+: A theme runs through the entire album, Flying Lotus yet again delivers interesting and different electronic music
-: No matter how interesting the music is, it feels naked with nothing verbal over it. Sorry for being shallow.

Parisian Goldfish - Flying Lotus

Review: In Ear Park

2008-10-21T13:40:00.003+11:00

Department of Eagles

Too often, critical comparisons can feel painfully simple: too obvious, too easy, negligent and unsophisticated in detailing the similarities, contrasts and intricacies of the artists’ bodies of work. Groups such as The Arcade Fire, Sufjan Stevens, and The Flaming Lips have saturated too many critical responses in recent years; and whilst arguably this simply represents their unique perspectives and periodical influence, regularly such analysis is merely lazy and undemanding – both of the critic and his audience. Conversely, some comparisons are unequivocally natural and hence unavoidable, such as measuring artistic development between albums, the strength of two artists’ viewpoints in collaborative works, or highlighting rip offs or cross-genre equivalents. Unfortunately, in the case of artists moving between projects, whose movements under a fresh moniker represent a sincere attempt to attain artistic and critical differentiation from their previous output, the comparisons are not only natural but habitually the first question everyone wants answered.

So yeah, if you had a giant musical sorting device, Department of Eagles’ In Ear Park would probably land in the same bucket as the rest of Grizzly Bear’s output, which is expected when ¾ of the band contribute, but you’d be foolish in assuming that their relationship was as simplistic as their rosters may suggest. Consisting of Dan Rossen (of Grizzly Bear) and NYU roommate Fred Nicolaus, Department of Eagles released their first record The Cold Nose in 2003. Relying on understated electro loops and sound fragments, the record effortlessly managed a clever folk-pop sensibility, despite scarcely hinting at the powerful gravitas of Rossen’s instrumental and vocal prowess displayed on Grizzly Bear’s stunning Yellow House, and more particularly, 2008 highlight “While You Wait For The Others”. Whilst the five years since has done wonders for Rossen career wise, it has also aided the collaboration between him and Nicolaus, clearly affording the pair with greater emotional and musical maturity and dexterity, resulting in a much deeper, more focused and remarkably beautiful sophomore release.

Whilst immediately satisfying and accessible thanks to the intensely gifted songwriting, In Ear Park unquestionably rewards multiple listens, particularly on a pair of headphones. Crafted from innumerable charming layers of guitar and tight vocal harmonies, some of the album’s best moments are hidden amongst the beautifully worked arrangements; such as the careful swell of syncopated percussion, delicate electric piano and swirling clarinet on “Around the Bay” or the wealth of textures that causes “Waves of Rye” to unfold and envelope the listener. This is perhaps In Ear Park’s greatest success, pushing and pulling with such astute melodic and emotional complexity; climaxing ferociously without becoming cacophonous, regressing with fragility but never sounding weak, Department of Eagles expertly handle the intimacy and delicacy of their work, where lesser bands would succumb to stereotypical exaggeration. This honesty perfectly reflects the nostalgic yearnings of the record’s themes; lyrically full of anxiety and wistful memories, producer Chris Taylor (also from Grizzly Bear) flawlessly captures the innocence underpinning all eleven tracks. Despite being somewhat jarring at first, and seeming unnecessary, Taylor’s alternative sonic conditioning of Nicolaus’ sung numbers “Teenagers” and “Classical Records” merely pulls the textured pianos and reverb inspired haze to the front of the mix, supporting Nicolaus’ vocal delivery. Conversely Rossen, who would sound great singing into broken headphones, is given plenty of room to move, his voice both grandiose and reassuring, beautifully demonstrated upon the sublime melodic ease of “Floating on the Lehigh” and first single/album opener “In Ear Park”.

Dedicated to Rossen’s late father, In Ear Park may not be a positive album, but nevertheless it feels perfect in accompanying the growth, the light, and the unsullied movements of spring. Despite feeling the cold affects of mortality, Rossen and Nicolaus have fashioned a record inspired and wholly appreciative of each and every day, where preceding mistakes or failures will never matter as much as the those memories in which we are at our happiest. In turn, comparisons become useless, and it becomes clear that it doesn’t matter which project you’re part of, or which record is better, or if you have hints of The Arcade Fire or Sufjan Stevens in your work. All that matters is this day, this moment, this record – if you’re looking for good memories, In Ear Park is an ideal place to start.

+: Beautiful instrumentation and arrangements, Rossen's vocal delivery, deep listening experience that continues to reward
-: Nicolaus' voice isn't very strong, the unnecessary interlude "Therapy Car Noise", the album can blend into itself

Phantom Other - Department of Eagles

DySC Melbourne

2008-10-20T17:48:00.006+11:00

developing your sonic conscience

The Party: Rye Rye - Miss Libertine - 23 October
17 year-old Baltimore MC Rye Rye blew up in 2008 following collaborations with the worlds hottest party starters Blaqstarr, Diplo, and The Count and Sinden. Touring with M.I.A since autumn/winter '07, she has since signed onto Ms. Arulpragasam's N.E.E.T.label (via Interscope). Remember your dancing shoes.

Tic Toc - Busy Signal ft Rye Rye & MIA

The Concert: The Basics - Empress Hotel - 23 October
Who's Melbourne's best live band?

Considering it certainly isn't Eddie Current Suppression Ring, these guys might be up for the gong. Consisting of Wally de Backer (Gotye), Tim Heath and Kris Schroeder these guys kill it with spot on harmonies, tight licks and sugar sweet pop-rock stylings. Watch out for their cover of The Beatles' "Three Cool Cats" (via The Coasters).

Rattle My Chain - The Basics

The Album: Of Montreal - Skeletal Lamping - 21 October
Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer was Kevin Barnes' first true masterpiece; traversing autobiographical themes such as depression, suicide, and chemicals, the record climaxed in the stunning "The Past is a Grotesque Animal" from which Barnes' transformed into his glam-rock transsexual alter-ego Georgie Fruit. In the Athens, Georgia native's own words, Skeletal Lamping "attempt(s) to bring all of my puzzling, contradicting, disturbing, humorous...fantasies, ruminations and observations to the surface, so that I can better dissect and understand their reason for being in my head". Enjoy not just the album, but the packaging too.

Nonpareil of Favor - Of Montreal

The diary (where you should be seen):
23.10.08 - Concert: Roy Ayers - Prince Bandroom
24.10.08 - Concert: Pez - Roxanne Parlour
24.10.08 - Party: The Bang Gang Deejays - 3rd Class
25.10.08 - Concert: Dragonforce - Forum Theatre
19.10.08 - Concert: The Vines - HiFi Bar & Ballroom

Review: This Is It And I Am It And Your Are It And So Is That And He Is It And She Is It And It Is It And That Is That

2008-10-16T19:10:00.009+11:00

Marnie Stern

Some great albums are classified as such because they are made to produce great singles. Of course, for a recording to reach this status it has to be more than just a collection of hit singles, but the reality is that certain artists or groups are better suited to constructing solid albums that are elevated to the level of memorability by the singles they produce; bands like Duran Duran and Franz Ferdinand, and artists like Michael Jackson, whilst being behind albums that are standard inclusions on most benchmark ‘must have’ lists, will always be remembered for earth-shattering songs rather than complete albums.

On the other hand, there are albums that run the whole way through and you just don’t know what hit you, in both a figurative and literal way. To begin with, the album just works; it plays start to finish without a dull moment, trapping its listener in a web of storytelling and leaving them wanting more at its conclusion. Alongside this, it seems to pass by in such a flurry that it scarcely gives its listener a chance to digest it in a song by song sense; Endtroducing . . . is undoubtedly one of the better albums to come out of the nineties, but play it to me a track at a time and I’d struggle to put a name to each individual recording. Exile on Main Street, widely regarded as The Rolling Stones’ finest album, is a masterpiece, and, to be fair, has it’s share of memorable moments, but at the same time it doesn’t contain anything that can, toe to toe, match the career-defining singles of their earlier lives, and yet it still manages to work as an overall musical statement much more effectively than many of their other full length works.

Marnie Stern’s latest release, This Is It . . ., is clearly an album that is more of the latter than the former, though without any of the inspired memorability that is required to elevate it to anything more than a decent listen. This is a stream of songs in a true sense, a miscellany of music that flows onward towards a rushing conclusion, a ceaseless sonic assault that contains little in the way of distinction between each piece, but much in the way of on overall feeling, a general air of celebration that manages to avoid all specificity. Stern’s yelps punctuate a relentless collection of riffs that she pumps out with alarming ferocity, a refreshing change from the clichéd songstress that either trills mournfully from behind a piano or croons huskily whilst strumming an acoustic guitar. Say what you will about her vocal ability, she will never be accused of lacking panache, delivering her typically obscure lyrics with a bite that clamps down over the entire album.

However, this concept of a record-spanning feel is not without its drawbacks if it is not executed flawlessly. There is an important difference between carrying a theme over an album with various linking sounds, and having an album that just sounds similar. Whilst writing off the tracks on this album as repetitive stylistically is to do Marnie Stern a disservice, at the same time one can’t help but feel, particularly with her rapid-fire riffing, that in the end it’s all just her shrieked lyrics stapled over the opening licks to ACDC’s ‘Thunderstruck’. The relentlessness of her approach still serves as a bracing change to the status quo, but only until the listener tires of it and switches off for a little while, and, for better or worse, it is not possible to switch off from this album without physically switching it off.

At the same time, it is perhaps that innocent repetition that endears most about this album; it is the sincerity of Marnie Stern’s aims and the total lack of irony in her delivery that remains with the listener long after the music itself has faded. This is not an album that will be remembered forever in the minds of consumers worldwide. After listening to this, you will not spend the next week picking parts of its songs out of your head because they’re catchy enough to infect a robot. However, the feeling that underpins the music, the concept of free spirited festivity, is something that will stay with you, clinging to you like the smoke that floats through your threads days after a big night out. Much like the smoke, This Is It . . . will aggravate you at times, but it will also serve as a reminder of grander things, and, in a life that feels intent on knocking us down, sometimes a reminder is all we need to get back up.

+: Sustains overall feeling throughout entire album, totally devoid of irony, sweet chops guitar-wise, nice change from the wet blanket mold of singers
-: A little bit light on in terms of variation, tends toward repetition, not necessarily what one would call an 'easy' listen, totally inappropriate background music

Transformer - Marnie Stern

DySC Melbourne

2008-10-13T10:54:00.008+11:00

developing your sonic conscience

The Party: Michael Franti & Spearhead - Forum Theatre - 16-17 October
All Rebel Rockers saw Franti pump out the most pure reggae/dub of his career, beautifully recorded under the guise of the prolific Sly and Robbie at their Kingston, Jamaica studios. Heads know why this isn't filed under Concert.

Get Up Stand Up (Live) - Michael Franti & Spearhead

The Concert: Terra Nova Sinfonia Antarctica, by DJ Spooky - Playhouse, The Arts Centre - 16-19 October
Over the last decade DJ Spooky a.k.a. The Subliminal Kid has constructed one of the worlds most multi-faceted, intricate and interesting artistic portfolios. Whether assembling the score to a Sundance Grand Jury Prize Winner (Slam), theorizing on the artistic legitimacy of sampling (Sound Unbound), or giving birth to a nation (what?), the illbient master will surely be a highlight of the Melbourne International Arts Festival schedule.

No No No (Remix) - DJ Spooky

The Album: AC/DC - Black Ice - 18 October
Highly anticipated? Long awaited? Does anyone really care? Probably not. Possibly the only interesting thing to come out of this is that after management decided to make it a Wal-mart only release across America, everybody else (ie. the independent record stores) just ordered their shit from Argentina -- for half the price.

Thunderstruck (Crookers Remix) - AC/DC

The diary:
13.10.08 - Concert: Patti Smith & Philip Glass - Playhouse, The Arts Centre
15.10.08 - Concert: Meshuggah - Palace Theatre
15-17.10.08 - Concert: Philip Glass - State Theatre
17.10.08 - Party: Infusion - Billboard Nightclub
18.10.08 - Concert: The Drones - Forum Theatre
19.10.08 - Concert: Stevie Wonder - Rod Laver Arena

Review: Dear Science

2008-10-10T01:10:00.000+11:00

TV On The Radio

Music is not a science. There is no set of exact values, there is no defined unit of measurement with which to compare various styles, and there no unequivocal way to state what a certain piece of music is worth. This is part of the rationale behind Off The Richter’s refusal to give any albums that it reviews a set rating; there are things about every album that appeal, just as there are things about every album that turn us away, and it is unfair for us to feel that we can pin a value onto these. It relies on concepts that are abstract, concepts that are more subjective than objective, concepts like creativity, concepts like emotional accessibility, and concepts like energy.

Energy in music doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but at the same time it can mean everything. An earlier post on this site by my esteemed colleague Dodo made reference to the fact that there are many bands that are unable to substantially alter their sound or feel from their album when performing their material live, the result of which is the equivalent of standing in a crowded room with over-priced drinks and playing a CD. This is because they lack energy; a fault that is by no means fatal to a band, but that doesn’t help it in a live setting. After all, as rare as it is to find a band that is able to truly link with an audience in a Hawnay Troof-like state of connection, it is equally uncommon to find a band that is able to record a truly gripping collection of songs, so it is perhaps unreasonable to expect a group to do both at the same time.

Rarer still is a band that is able to record that album – the album that grabs a listener by the scruff of the neck and forces them to remain chained to its power for a certain amount of time – and at the same time infuse it with the kind of energy that every audience member dreams of, the raw charisma of a band that is made to perform. Dear Science, the third full-length studio effort from TV On The Radio, is part of a rare breed; an album that sounds as complete and innovative as anything else around, but at the same time reeks of a raw power that, by any rights, shouldn’t be able to be contained on one recorded album.

This album is a remarkable achievement. From the frenetic verses of early standout ‘Dancing Choose’ to the politically charged rant of ‘Red Dress’ the songs exude the sort of vibe that live music was made for; the feeling of sweaty bodies pressed together as they move in unison to the sensation of one song. This is energy that is hard, that is fast, and that is satisfying, the musical equivalent of sex in the toilets of an airport with the partner you’ve just picked up after they’ve been overseas for six months. Probably. It was obvious from their last album, 2006’s stunning Return to Cookie Mountain, that they were a band more capable of blasting out fast-paced songs that still had depth than almost anybody else in music, and Dear Science has done that reputation nothing but favours.

However, the energy that seeps through this album most thoroughly, and that takes to the ears of the listener most seductively, is not the same energy that is most prevalent in the aforementioned tracks, stunning as they may be. Instead, the highlights of the album come when this energy transforms, changing into something slow-burning that grabs the listener in a more gentle way, but still with the same essence of power that runs through the more overtly vibrant tunes. Some songs are emotive because they are beautifully written, even if it is in a clichéd sense. ‘The Drugs Don’t Work’ is a fantastic song, but it is written to draw feeling from the listener in exactly the same way that any number of ballads are, and this doesn’t necessarily detract from the merit of any of these songs. Rather, it makes the fact that TVOTR are able take the energy that they are so famous for, and then transfer it into music that they, in all fairness, shouldn’t be able to perform, the indie equivalent of Opeth writing ‘Hey Jude’. ‘Family Tree’, a true highpoint of Dear Science, and recognisably the work of TVOTR, is at the same time different to the more recognisable tracks from their back-catalogue – it is about as far as conceivable from the vigour of Return to Cookie Mountain’s ‘Wolf Like Me’ and ‘Dirty Whirl’. Similarly the gradual build of ‘Shout Me Out’ is more reliant on the primal energy of the band moving the song, even though the slow first half to the song is musically in no way indicative of the band’s history.

A band that is able to harness it’s famed raw energy and run it successfully through the filter of a different style of music is rare indeed, for it is too easy for a group to find something that they excel at and stay with it. With Dear Science, TV On The Radio have challenged themselves, and passed with flying colours. They were always a band that could make you move. Who knew they were a band that could move you as well?

+: Hard to narrow it down . . . Dancing Choose and Family Tree are two easy highlights. Diversity works. Despite changing some parts of their sound, the band is as obviously TVOTR as ever
-: Not a great album to listen to and try and do something else at the same time . . . It says a lot when that's the biggest negative to be found.

Dancing Choose - TV On The Radio
Family Tree - TV On The Radio

Concert Review: Yeasayer

2008-10-09T14:55:00.001+11:00

The Corner Hotel - 4.10.08

When it’s your first time, there’s always a moment of hesitation; a hiccup of uncertainty; a slight fracturing of your confidence: for all your hope and previously felt passion, there’s always the worry that it won’t live up to your expectations. Seeing live music can ruin the image of even our most highly praised bands; where the move from studio to stage can so quickly transform the multi-tracked fluidity of an album into a quagmire of noisy guitars and flat vocals. Obviously this rarely happens to such an exaggerated magnitude, yet still many good bands suffer a loss of energy, enthusiasm, or focus; sometimes all at the one time. On the other hand there are those bands that sound almost too eerily familiar to their recordings (I’m talking to you Vampire Weekend), and lack the live curio to fully justify their hectic sold out schedules.

But every now and then a band truly impresses, displaying a musical proficiency several evolutionary steps beyond that of their recordings, and a performance prowess unable to be burnt onto CD. As an audience you feel gifted to be witnessing it, feeling cheated by Youtube for not displaying such wealth of talent in all its glory, and reminded of the ephemeral beauty of the live format: this is truly where bands like Yeasayer come into their own. At the Corner on Saturday night, the quartet brought the rhythmic complexities of All Hour Cymbals to the fore, an element whose impact was often lost amidst the album’s misty reverb; drummer Chris Keating driving the sampled and broken psych-folk percussion with the energy of a hurricane, throwing the Corner Hotel into a quasi-primitive rave. There was also a more focused, emotional delivery to many of the songs as well; even beyond the slow-burn lullaby sing-alongs “No Need To Worry” and “Red Cave” (the latter of which should’ve been the encore). “2080” and “Sunrise” went off as expected, songs that fare less well on paper produced some unexpected highlights e.g. “Wait For the Summertime” and “Worms”, whilst only “Forgiveness” felt down from the record, losing vigor as the lyrical baton was wholly passed to guitarist Anand Wilder.

Since their debut at 2007’s SXSW Yeasayer have manifested their complex psych-folk into a live primitive beast, and their new, more focused direction can only increase the anticipation for their sophomore effort. But still there’ll be hesitation, there always is: a fledgling hint of doubt, a second of lost-poise and assurance; but still we hope, that the second time will be even better than the first.

No Need To Worry - Yeasayer

Review: WLIB AM: King of the Wigflip

2008-10-06T13:44:00.004+11:00

Madlib The Beat Konducta

For a series that began its journey inside the mind of virtuoso beatsmith J-Dilla, and that has since traversed the esteemed sonic blueprints of both hip-hop’s most revered legends (Pete Rock, Marley Marl, Jazzy Jeff) and innovators (will.i.am, DJ Spinna), there could never be a more fitting conclusion to BBE’s The Beat Generation than one provided by Madlib. At all times both eternally eclectic and uncompromisingly innovative, one need only glance at the prolific pacesetter’s 2008 output in order to fully appreciate his importance in the modern hip-hop landscape, and his depth as an artist (the reworking of the entirety of ‘07’s Perseverance, the Badu meditations, Guilty Simpson crack-rap, his 5th Beat Konducta outing through the Dil Cosby Suite, and Jackson’s latest project with Brazilian Ivan Conti as Jackson Conti). It’s this intensely open-minded diversity that Madlib (and therefore Stones Throw) has built his career on, and is proudly on display in his latest release.

Therefore WLIB AM feels like a natural next step; the radio format perfectly able to handle the schizophrenia of Madlib’s creativity, whilst also suiting the conversational style of his presentation. Transitioning from the raw bombast of “Blow The Horns On ‘Em” through to the sing-song Georgia Anne Muldrow number “The Plan Pt.1” has never felt more seamless, the breezy soul provided by Frenza and Stacy Epps never more smooth, and combined with a greater sense of focus in allowing pieces to reach their logical conclusion, King of the Wigflip delivers a more accessible and satisfying package than many of his previous solo efforts.

The guest list is equally strong, and adequately deals with the criticism of Madlib’s strength as an MC, especially considering he is here without the green haze of his Quasimoto releases to hide behind. Fittingly Frank-N-Dank complete the Beat Generation cycle, by appearing here on “Drinks Up!” and delivering the same tongue-in-cheek, party vibe that first garnered them attention on Dilla’s Welcome to Detroit. Both Guilty Simpson joints are crack-funk successes, with “Go!” narrowly beating “Blow The Horns On ‘Em” for its ever more threatening snarl, whilst MURS’ “Ratrace” maintains the same fluid delivery as he demonstrated on his highly recommended ’08 release Murs For President. Overall, Medaphor probably comes off the worst, sounding lyrically lazy and trying too hard vocally to match the strong and vicious production of “The Ox (805)”.

So sure, there are missteps: clichéd lyrics, comic interludes that feel like filler, production that rarely challenges the artist whom it features; but who really cares? Madlib’s records were never meant to be consumed in twenty-first century ADD sound bytes, and of all his recent work, King of the Wigflip most strongly represents this: a hearkening back to a time before shuffling iPods, file sharing and FM dominance; a time when audiences truly tuned in.

Ultimately, perhaps the most irresistible feature though of the entire Madlib discography is the man himself. Through all the aliases and sonic adventures, Otis Jackson Jr. remains the reclusive scientist, the insatiable artist and the loyal beat-head, irrepressibly inventive, whose musical dexterity grows each outing as if on an endless trajectory. Reportedly there are innumerable finished albums lying around his Bomb Shelter studio that will never see the light of day, pure creative overflow that leaves his contemporaries seem idle and uninspired. So WLIB AM may be just another piece of the artistic puzzle; but whatever frequency Madlib’s on, it’s always worth a listen.

What It Do - Madlib feat. Talib Kweli

Concert Review - Conor Oberst

2008-10-06T11:00:00.001+11:00

The Palace Theatre - 2.10.08

The state of being Hard Nature, despite the relative simplicity of the concept, is something that does not come easily.

Conor Oberst is Hard Nature.

It’s not because he plays the most fashionable music – realistically, there’s a little too much twang and not enough tweeter in Oberst’s songs – whether with his current project The Mystic Valley Band or his work as Bright Eyes – for it to ever be considered fashionable, no matter how much praise is heaped upon it.

It’s not because he dresses like a hipster’s dream – as he walked onto the stage at the Palace Theatre, clad in denim and boots with a shag of unkempt hair, he looked like nothing more than a country and western Ian Brown.

It’s not because he sings about fashionable things – his lyrics suggest a disenchanted man that has been heartbroken too many times to be able to comfortably fit in with the current template of what a man should be, as dictated by Western society.

In truth, it’s the fact that he doesn’t do any of these things that makes Conor Oberst Hard Nature. The effortlessness of being able to walk out on stage with a minimum of fuss, a minimum of banter, a minimum of prancing about, and only the occasional display of fairly dextrous line-dancing, and still hold an audience captivated is pure Hard Nature. Contrasted with warm-up act, the Brisbane-based I Heart Hiroshima, who were clearly trying just that little too hard to be magnetic, Oberst’s fluent and natural style of performance is a breath of fresh air in a live music scene that seems to becoming more and more spectacle based. This is not to say that a spectacle of sheer bombast cannot also be Hard Nature, for an artist like Kanye West could also be seen to embody the concept, but Oberst’s take on live execution of his music is to be commended for it’s simplicity.

As for the content of the concert itself, much like NaS will never be written about without mention of the word Illmatic, Oberst will seldom crop up in musical conversation without reference to his highly lauded work as Bright Eyes. It is however a credit to his own sense of self-confidence that he feels able to tour with a set that includes very few songs from his days in the band that was his conduit to critical acclaim. Indeed, it is a tribute to his ability as a songwriter and as a performer that the most memorable songs from the evening were those that come from his self-titled first solo album. Particular mention must be made of Cape Canaveral, the album-opener, appearing in all it’s slow-moving glory, and the back-to-back performances of Lenders in the Temple and Milk Thistle, both of which were performed without the majority of the Mystic Valley Band, and were instead showcases for Oberst’s ability as an acoustic performer.

Conor Oberst is a man that is constantly moving, endlessly seeking new directions and themes with his music so as to develop the Sonic Consciences those that are fortunate enough to it. One of the set’s final songs, I Don’t Want To Die (In a Hospital Bed), contains the refrain ‘help me get my boots back on’. This is exactly what Oberst is always doing, getting his boots back on to continue on the road of musical exploration that he has so confidently travelled thus far in his career.

It would be churlish not to follow him.

Milk Thistle - Conor Oberst

DySC Melbourne

2008-10-05T23:32:00.007+11:00

developing your sonic conscience

The Party: Jokers of the Scene - Miss Libertine - 10 October
Despite Melbourne being stuck too deep inside the anus of commercial house to give a shit, Ottawa's DJ Booth and Chameleonic took a break from club night Disorganized and formed Jokers of the Scene, proceeding to slowly take over the 2008 remix universe. Kid Cudi, Vitaminsforyou, Dandi Wind and about half the Mad Decent roster have been transformed so far, and their latest Mishka mixtape has copped some crazy buzz. Did we mention they're signed to A-Trak's Fool's Gold label?

Jerk It (Jokers of the Scene Remix) - Thunderheist

The Concert: The New Pornographers - Corner Hotel - 11 October
Canadian indie rock supergroup The New Pornographers have spent the last decade invading critics' year's end lists with Cheap Trick guitars, power pop melodies straight from the The Cars, and the seductive vocals of Neko Case (If you missed out the first time, this may be your next best chance).

Myriad Harbour - The New Pornographers

The Album: Department of Eagles - In Ear Park - 6 October
This summer it seemed like Grizzly Bear were almost invincible. Firstly they dropped the finest songwriting of the year so far in "While You Wait For the Others", and then followed it up with Conan debuted gem "Two Weeks"; not to mention opening for Radiohead across the States. Whilst we eagerly await their proper follow-up to '07 masterpiece Yellow House, GB guitarist and vocalist Dan Rossen here returns to his former Department of Eagles project with NYU friend Fred Nicolaus that last saw them release their debut The Cold Nose in 2003. So far, lead singles "In Ear Park" and "No One Does It Like You" maintain the attention to detail and melancholic sophistication of Grizzly Bear's best material, whilst feeling increasingly intimate and nostalgic. Stay tuned for a full review next Tuesday.

In Ear Park - Department of Eagles

Also of note, Luke Steele (The Sleepy Jackson) and Nick Littlemore (PNAU) release their Empire of the Sun debut today, entitled Walking On A Dream. The personnel is enough to have Triple J blowing their shit, but despite the wank of an title, their lead single is actually really fucking good:

Check it out here.

Other noteworthy happenings this week:
7.10.08 - Party: Melbourne Ukulele Collective - 303
7.10.08 - Concert: Supergrass - Forum Theatre
7.10.08 - Concert: We Are Scientists - HiFi Bar & Ballroom
10.10.08 - Concert: Joan As Police Woman - East Brunswick Club Hotel
11.10.08 - Party: Bag Raiders - Eurotrash
12.10.08 - Concert: 1974AD (seven albums, six in the Nepalese top 10) - East Brunswick Club Hotel

The Liner Notes - 3.10.08

2008-10-03T09:26:00.004+10:00

The way that we allow consumer culture to affect us is something that we here at Off The Richter take a keen interest in, and, drawing to the end of our first week in existence, one example of the manipulation of consumer culture stands out, a beacon to those that hope to change the way that we view our everyday lives. The forthcoming release of ‘Skeletal Lamping’, the latest album from the Kevin Barnes driven Of Montreal, is setting a new standard for artists that hope to in some way to alter the way that people consume music. Rather than selling the recording as a simple CD/vinyl issue, Barnes et al have elected to package a downloadable version of the album with an assortment of different items, each designed to enhance the listener’s lifestyle.

This is an idea that this website is a strong proponent of, as made clear by the very first post that appeared on it. If one feels that there is a problem with consumer culture, it is better to change it by being an active part of it than to remove oneself from it totally. Of Montreal have taken the standard setting for music in commodity culture, the CD, and altered it to be more than just a case, more than just a booklet of lyrics and thanks, more than just a round disc to rip onto a computer and never use again. Instead, they have given the concept of the album worth in the corporeal world as well as the musical one, the objects that are associated with it are more than just things to be looked at once and forgotten, but are rather items that should be cherished an contemplated, used carefully and appreciated forever.

Despite this unfamiliar approach to the album, this is in fact an incredibly natural way to appreciate music, and to, in turn, develop one’s Sonic Conscience. It makes sense that the items that one gets with a recording are items that one would value, that one would truly admire and respect. It makes sense that the thought and care that goes into making an album’s worth of music should also be duplicated when it comes to engineering a vehicle by which that music can be distributed. It is this organic approach to the distribution of music that gives Of Montreal’s efforts a strong element of Hard Nature, and that is something that we at Off The Richter can appreciate, for what higher achievement can one obtain than to be able to simultaneously develop the Sonic Conscience of society and set a new standard of execution whilst doing so.

Consumer culture is not perfect, but it is fluid, and it is there to be changed. The past few years have seen a number of revolutionary ways of approaching the alteration of this culture, and Of Montreal’s move has been another step forward in the process. There is an enormous amount of potential within the realms of a commodity-driven society for self-expression to shine through; it merely takes ingenuity to make it happen. In order to add emotional currency to the physical elements of commodity culture, it is necessary to invest a certain amount of care into their development and presentation – the difference between a lovingly prepared collection of music-related items and a hastily put together CD could not be more stark.

We live in a society based around consumerism, but the consumerism that is currently advocated allows very little room for emotional and creative expression on a large scale. However, in order to change that, we must alter our habits of spending to better reflect our personalities, beliefs and values from within the consumer society itself. Mao Zedong once said, ‘it is right to rebel’ in reference to his own people making arguments against the status quo of communist China in order to make positive changes. We here at Off The Richter believe that it is right to consume in order to alter the status given to certain commodities in our lives, for it is the only way to bring about the wholesale change needed to give this style of life credence. We are currently shackled by the demands that a wholesale capitalist culture places upon us, but rather we should allow ourselves to make demands of it, manipulating it in accordance with our own desires.

Spenders of the world unite; you have nothing to lose but your chains . . .

Don't Stop Believin' (Journey Cover) - Of Montreal

Review: Fabriclive 41

2008-10-01T21:22:00.002+10:00

Simian Mobile Disco

The concept of ‘the mix’ is one that is open to interpretation, an idea in music that is constantly fluctuating, forever eluding a precise definition. For some it is merely a selection of songs that stand alone, directing the listener whichever way that they choose to be taken by each piece of music – it can be dissected, cut up, played as a whole or in sections. For others, however, the mix is clearly an expression not of songs as individual artistic works, but of an overarching theme, a gradual build to an inevitable conclusion, a block of musical land that cannot be subdivided, but must be purchased and utilized as a whole. Simian Mobile Disco, as strong proponents of the recent surge in ‘alternative’ electronic music, alongside Justice, Diplo and virtually the entire DFA roster, have apparently decided to pledge allegiance to the latter form of the mix for this, the forty-first instalment of the increasingly popular Fabriclive series, and, apart from one or two aberrations from this theme, manage to remain true to the theory of the seamless mix.

As an instrument through which to convey a particular sensation, this integration of songs from one of the more prominent names in alternative electronica does much to impart a sense of unnerving and frenetic energy. This is apparent from the outset, with the intro, the group’s take on ‘The Firebird’ merging into ‘The Don’ – sounding not dissimilar to the backing track for any number of Super Mario Bros. levels – lending an air of impending danger to the forthcoming events of the mix. It is this ability to convey a consistent message throughout an hour of music, that when played separately is actually quite disparate, that gives Simian Mobile Disco the edge over any number of their lesser turntable-wielding rivals. When this is coupled with the group’s ability to mesh the aforementioned disparity of songs almost flawlessly into one ‘track’, it is a recipe for a particularly involved sixty minutes of listening.

The use of the mix in such a way is to be lauded, for it is rare in this age to witness an artist that is dedicated to the conveyance of one particular message or feeling throughout a body of work, and rarer still for such an artist to do so successfully. Today’s society is one that doesn’t value long-term commitment, but instead prioritises short-term profit; it is one that takes instant gratification over lasting sentiment; it is one that will settle for a one night stand when a genuine relationship appears like too much hard work. The full mix therefore represents something that our modern culture has chosen to reject, but should in fact aim to embrace, for one cannot fully appreciate the offerings of modern life without first investing time and effort into modern life itself. This mix is a pathway to the full appreciation of those offerings; the effective consumption of this work can only lead to a greater understanding of its contemporary equivalents, and, through this understanding, the development of a more balanced Sonic Conscience.

However, for all its merits, the album is not without its drawbacks. Perhaps most notable amongst these is the inclusion of two specific songs. The first of these, the Serge Santiago version of the Hercules and Love Affair track ‘Blind’, is, on its own, a masterful piece of music. It not only carries with it an emotional gravitas that is seldom seen in modern electronica, but also bears the vocal work of Antony Hegarty, one of the most distinctive voices of recent times. However, it is this sublime voice that in fact detracts from the song’s inclusion in this particular mix, for it jars with the rest of the album, taking it from the spine-rattling intensity of its usual fare into softer realms, disrupting the overall flow of the mix itself, despite the track, individually at least, being one of the highlights of the recording. The second song that detracts from the overall sense of ‘the mix’ comes as a finale, and an anticlimactic one at that. Taking us from the undeniably brilliant nervous energy of both Plastikman’s ‘Spastic’ and Green Valet’s ‘Flash’, the album suddenly drops off into ‘Nite Flights’ by The Walker Brothers, a track that, rather than leaning towards the oppressive, rather tragically errs towards the eighties.

Yet, for all that, it would be churlish to suggest that these two blips are in any way enough to deter listeners from this otherwise seamless example of oppressive electronica at its best. Whilst it may not be the ideal Sunday night record, it is perhaps a credit to Simian Mobile Disco that they have pieced together an album that cannot be played unthinkingly; it takes a certain amount of dedication to set oneself for this recording, and it is the reliance on this dedication that makes this mix special. It is not often enough that music makes demands of its listeners, and when it does it is only right that we should accede to those demands, and simply do what it asks us to – listen.

+: A seamless mix, blending 22 songs into a single track that lasts an hour, a consistent sense of emotion being conveyed throughout the mix, excellent intensity, goes against the trend of 'easy listening'.
-: Two jarring songs that detract from the overall message of the mix, perhaps an hour and a quarter of oppressive electronica with almost no respite is a little bit much, when all's said and done, the music itself isn't actually that new or different to pretty much everything else out there.

Stream: I Got This Down (Invisible Conga People Remix) - Simian Mobile Disco

Concert Review - Hawnay Troof

2008-10-01T00:41:00.008+10:00

Ding Dong - 30.9.08

Subversion.

Immersion.

Both concepts that Off The Richter functions on. Both concepts that were displayed tonight. Both concepts that were rendered secondary to something more.

Yes, Hawnay Troof, Oakland artiste extraordinaire, was able to subvert the current consumerism of musical culture. Off The Richter, as an abstract concept, is all about taking what is accepted as de rigeur in today's commodity culture and altering it to mean more, and this is exactly what Hawnay Troof does. The prime example of this can come from nowhere else than his finale, the marvelously altered version of Gwen Stefani's Hollaback Girl . . . rather than the titular phrase, Troof, alongside guest Peaches . . . that's right, motherfucking Peaches . . . screamed to the relatively bare, but nonetheless enamoured, audience 'She takes it in the back, girl' . . . This is the sublime alteration of popular culture to make it mean something more at its best . . .

Yes, Hawnay Troof, Oakland artiste extraordinaire, was able to immerse himself in music more than most are able to. From the opening number, which was, to be honest, indecipherable from the majority of his work, he made it clear that he wanted to blur the distinction between artist and audience, performer and gallery. Leaping into the crowd, invoking call and response parts of his song - beginnning and ending his set with, 'Hell Yeah (hell yeah) Fuck Yeah (fuck yeah) - are obvious examples of this man's mission to take his music to the people in a way that is, unfortunately, rarely seen in the twenty-first century.

However, more than his postmodern take on pop music, more than his unitarian view on concert dynamic, what affected this particular man most was the simple energy of the show. More than anything, more than the intellectual feed and the alternative appeal, was the fun, and the fun was always there, whether it was when the Troof was on stage, by himself with a laptop, or whether it was with his noise rock warm-up act Grey Daturas, it was always present.

This was a motherfucking sick show. It doesn't matter that I'm slightly intoxicated now, and may not be tomorrow, this was still an unbelievable performance. I went for the subversion, I went for the immersion, but, to be honest, I bought the t-shirt (and got it autographed) for the fun, and the fun only . . .

You can't live Off The Richter if you don't have fun.

Connection - Hawnay Troof

Review: Everything That Happens Will Happen Today

2008-09-30T03:45:00.002+10:00

Brian Eno and David Byrne

It was very much a record of its time. A perfect correlation of two visionary artists, their creative trajectories at their most acute, and whose quixotic, sonic ambitions were inhibited, warped, and perhaps ultimately refined/defined by the analogue limitations of 1981. But since the release of My Life in the Bush of Ghosts some 27 years ago, the ambient, experimental terrain that Byrne and Eno once pioneered has been thoroughly populated, diffusing into some of 2008s best releases (from Flying Lotus' Los Angeles to Lindstrom's latest WYGIGT), yet also leaving an impossible developmental crevasse for Byrne and Eno to jump if they were ever to attempt My Life's spiritual successor. Instead, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today stands as a fundamental opposite to the duo's first record; unequivocally confident where the former lay insecure, rich and potent where its ancestor hazily threatened; both familiar yet captivating, this is the product of two musical giants enjoying the finest days of their lives.

Selected from over eight years of Eno’s musical trials, the album’s production is a highlight, maintaining a euphonious familiarity and accessibility without relying on clichéd soundscapes and erroneous accompaniment. Thematically veering between the pastoral folk-pop of the album’s title track and the broken-beat funk demonstrated in "Poor Boy", the artists’ self prescribed electro-gospel inspiration can be hard to identify, perhaps underestimating the immediacy of all eleven tracks. In such a case, it would be easy to describe the work as complacent, a mere pastiche of pop signifiers filtered through Eno’s ambient, Pro-Tools fueled gaze. However the ease and fluency of the album’s electro tinged pop presentation instead represents the work of an artist at the zenith of his creative maturity, confident enough to experiment within the realms of the popular musical lexicon, instead of yielding to the pressure of constantly breaking new ground. Therefore whilst the simplicity of the arrangements can appear too pop thin, the sonic texture compensates by being thick and wholesome, sweet and inviting molasses of broad acoustic strokes of countrified guitar and piano, of effect drenched strings and ray gun synths smeared across jarring electro beats; all carefully curated by Eno. It’s a sound that in the hands of any lesser producer could become aurally overwhelming, but instead represents the best of the work’s vitality and assuredness.

Byrne’s lyrical attack is similarly confident and secure; melodically fundamental yet effortless in delivery, his voice provides the perfect harmonic weight which the production often lacks. Whether it be his too-smooth croon on lead single "Strange Overtones", or "The River’s" multi-tracked gospel haze, the singer for the most part sounds wholly at ease in providing some of his most pop-accessible vocals to date. Strangely enough then, despite his history of equaling the curio of Eno’s most tentative musical departures, Byrne seems to find difficulty in matching the more experimental textures presented here. On mild electro-punk adventure "I Feel My Stuff", the verses insecurity results in contrived-novelty articulation, whilst the listener can almost fear losing the Talking Heads front man amidst the minimalist-funk of "Poor Boy"; thankfully, in both instances, as the production escalates to envelope and support Byrne, his minor anxiety dissolves and with most notably a stronger harmonic context, the tracks are allowed to return to the album’s alluring poise.

It’s lyrically and thematically where Everything That Happens most reveals its gospel aspiration, if only for its fundamental message rather than any two cent religious referencing. Clearly inspired by the irresistible positivity of his musical backdrop, Byrne constantly evokes the journey from despair towards an always hope filled conclusion. Through exploding cars, lakes on fire and God shaking ‘the stars above when we lose the ones we love’, his lyrics maintains rigorous faith in the possibilities of the human race, talking about ‘the milk of human kindness’, ‘the comfort of the world’, and contending we men still have a chance of redemption: ‘a man is made of clay, everything can change one fine day’. Gratefully this optimism never manifests itself as preaching, instead reinforcing the overall assuredness of the product. Ultimately such affirmative energy must be targeted, and rather than engaging in pop-politic, flavor of the month celebrity social conscience, Byrne returns ‘Home’. It’s an astute choice of opening track, setting the thematic scene for what’s to come, ‘we’ll mix our lives together…Home – will infect whatever you do’. It’s a matter of love, ‘I’ll go home where you are right in front of me’ and safety, ‘when I was down and out I dragged my body home’, and ultimately as we reach the stunning finale "The Lighthouse", Byrne is himself building a house, one we can only imagine to be full of hope.

+: Confidence of presentation, lush sonic textures, beautiful lyrics, not My Life 2
-: Lacks edge/can be too familiar, Byrne can lose the plot, not My Life 2, mightn't have staying power

Stream: Everything That Happens Will Happen Today

DySC Melbourne

2008-09-28T21:12:00.009+10:00

developing your sonic conscience

The Party: Diplo - Prince Bandroom - 3 October
Mad Decent labelmaster, Mad Producer (M.I.A, Santogold, Kid Sister, his own Florida LP), Mad DJ (Fabriclive, Top Ranking, see the Reckoner remix below), and general...

Mad Cunt

Reckoner (Mad Decent Remix) - Radiohead

The Gallery: Rimbaud/Rambo - Neon Parc - until 18 October
Melbourne dealers Gould, Niagra and Charles Nodrum galleries contribute to a battle of agendas: Nolan vs Coleing, Perceval vs Noonan, Gleeson vs Shultz... diversity and taste clash in this week's must see.

See more at: NeonParc.com

The Concert: Conor Oberst - The Palace Theatre - 2 October
Bright Eyes in all but name, Oberst plays his solo material from self-titled album this Thursday at the old Metro. Expect him to live up to the 'New Dylan' tag, just don't expect any old material.

Milk Thistle - Conor Oberst

Other places to be seen this week:
30.9.08 - Concert: Hawnay Troof - Ding Dong Lounge
30.9.08 - Concert: Black Francis - Forum Theatre
2.10.08 - Gallery: John Peart - Charles Nodrum Gallery
3.10.08 - Party: Order of Melbourne
3.10.08 - Party: Upfront presents Gaslamp Killer - Miss Libertine
4.10.08 - Installation: Carolyn Eskdale + Anthony Johnson - Conical Upstairs
4.10.08 - Concert: Yeasayer - Corner Hotel
4.10.08 - Concert: Grandmaster Roc Raida (only uses Stanton needles)- Esplanade Hotel

The Liner Notes: The Manifesto

2008-09-28T20:52:00.002+10:00

Off.
Off the chain, off the top of your head, off tap, off the bat, off and on again, off to work, off the radar, off the charts, off limits, put it off, keepings off, step off, lay off, turn it off, take it off, set it off.
A multitude of uses.

Off the Richter.

It’s what life should be, off the Richter. It’s how music should make you feel, off the Richter. It’s how people should think you look, off the Richter. To be off the Richter represents how much you’re giving life, and how much you’re letting it give you. The creationaries at JVL believe that there is no style that is incapable of making one appear beyond the realms of traditional measurement, no music that is incapable of giving one reactions that cannot be charted, no life that is incapable of being off the Richter.

What you have here is an avenue, a pathway to a different way of approaching life through your consumption of music and style. This concept, the idea of consumption, despite it’s increased prevalence in our society, is one that the culturally elite – the hipsters, the commentators, the fringe, the intelligentsia of culture – have made pariah. It is never cool to consume, it is never fashionable to subscribe to a lifestyle that is open in its consumption habits, and it is certainly never acceptable to be seen to enjoy buying, to enjoy being a part of the capitalist machine that makes our society run.

Fuck them!

You have to consume. If you want to get anything out of this world, you have to inject something into it, and the reality is that what you are injecting, what you have injected, and what you will inject into it is money. There is no escaping that. Therefore, why this relentless hatred towards the idea of a consumer society? It’s here; we may as well become an active part of it, not so that we can just lie down and accept whatever comes our way, but in the knowledge that the only way to change something about society is to become part of it; there is no revolution from without, only from within.

Our revolution. A revolution to take the mundane to uncharted heights. A revolution to take the mundane off the Richter.
How does one achieve this? How is one’s life transported from the everyday, from the normal, from the dizzying heights of mediocrity, into the realm of a new perspective, a new way of approaching culture, and all its trappings? Through music, through style, through imagination, people are able to elevate themselves beyond the average. Through Hard Nature and a sense of Sonic Conscience we are able to lift ourselves, and those around us, to a new level of cultural appreciation, for only through effective appreciation of our society and what it has to offer are we able to be appreciated in turn.

Hard Nature.

To be naturally stylish, to be effortlessly recognisable, to be fluently desirable. These are traits that Off the Richter seeks to enhance in those around us. For something to be Hard Nature it must be all of these things and more. For something to possess elements of Hard Nature it must be appealing, it must be coveted, and it must be organic. To be Hard Nature means to be able to sport a look that those around you wish to emulate, to carry yourself in a way that exudes confidence without arrogance, and to do all of this without appearing robotic, without appearing contrived. To be able to throw on an outfit fifteen minutes before you walk out the door and still stand out more than those that preen over their appearance for hours is something that should be recognised, it is something that is worthy of being considered Off the Richter.

Hard Nature.

It doesn’t mean flicking your hair and mouthing meaningless phrases against society and capitalism. It doesn’t mean wearing the tightest jeans you can find because that’s what everybody else is doing. It doesn’t mean wearing outrageous clothes in a manufactured attempt to prove your alternative credibility. It means rocking odd socks because you didn’t have the time to find a matching pair in between waking up and running after the tram you were supposed to be on. It means making your own pants even though you’re perfectly capable of buying a pair, not because you don’t want to fuel consumer culture, but because you like feeling a sense of attachment with your clothes. It means cruising around on an old bicycle with a basket, not because you spent weeks and weeks trawling through stores trying to find one with the exact amount of retro cool, but because it used to belong to your mum, and it’s been sitting in your garage for sixteen years. It means always popping without trying, it means staying ice cold without breaking a sweat, it means being a chiller and making it look hot. Stay fresh to death. Stay Hard Nature.

Sonic Conscience.

We don’t think, we act. We don’t believe, we assume. We don’t listen, we hear. This is one of the greatest crimes of our modern society, this unthinking subscription to whatever is fed to us. In order to truly appreciate music, and life in general, the creationaries at JVL believe that one must have a certain level of personal investment in what one listens to. In order to become sonically conscious, one must develop a Sonic Conscience. It seems inconceivable that people are able to absorb such vast quantities of music without thinking about it – how many out there become immersed in whatever happens to be the latest in musical trends, only to forget about it as soon as the next guitar-wielding, long-haired, tight-jeaned soulful songwriter comes along? The application of musical knowledge, the genuine love of the culture that is associated with any and every genre of music, is what can transform interest into passion, and it is through passion that one’s life can be filled with value, it is through passion that everyday events take on new meaning.

Sonic Conscience.

Affect is an unusual word. It is underused, and when it is put into use, it is often in the incorrect context. The difference between affect and effect isn’t understood. The difference between affect and affectation isn’t understood. To be affected by something means that it has provoked a genuine emotional response. To have an affect on something else means that the change that has been made is more than superficial – it is authentic. Music should have an affect on us, and it can have an affect on us, if we allow it. However, one cannot be truly be affected by music unless one has some sort of personal investment in it – the context is just as important as the content. The creationaries at JVL aim to give you context that you are better served to digest the content; we will provide the moral fodder to give your Sonic Conscience weight.

Being Off the Richter is a state that one aspires to, it is a mindset that as achievable by all, but obtained by few. This isn’t because it sits out of reach, the high culture grapes to our societal Tantalus, but because, somewhat oxymoronically, being effortless takes effort, and this is the one commodity that we have not yet learnt to trade in. The effort to break free from the shackles of perception is a great one, but it is well worthwhile, for what reward is there to be obtained from a life lived without engagement?

Develop your Sonic Conscience. Stay Hard Nature.
Live Off the Richter.