In my review of Drake’s debut album, Thank Me Later, in the summer of 2010; I pinpointed a parallel that could be drawn between the artist in question and Chicago hip-hop revolutionary Common. On Common’s second album, which was released in the Autumn of 1994; the artist weaved together a collection of lyrically pugnacious, challenging, socially aware hip-hop – penning one of greatest allegorical rap songs ever put together in I Used to Love H.E.R. (more…)

Upon their signing to Smalltown America records, More Than Conquerors now find themselves in both familiar and esteemed company in the Northern Ireland music scene – including but not limited to And So I Watch You From Afar, LaFaro, Fighting With Wire, Oppenheimer et al. It is clear though, that this propound to have something more subtle, and more profound to offer. (more…)

The etymology of Linebacker Dirge is not one that I can fully decipher at first glance. ‘Dirge’ derives in part (I am told) from the ‘Dirge’ section of Transformers who share this title; a Transformer fittingldecipher at first glance.  A Transformer fittingly chosen for his consumption within emotion and fear and dread (doubly so due to the OED definition of ‘dirge’). This is fitting for two reasons: firstly, due to the overt and continuous thematic lyrical approach taken by the band’s frontman Jason Gibson, and secondly – that through this emotional consumption – the Transformer Dirge could mirror fear onto enemies and adversaries. Analogously, it is only when confronting such anxieties and fears through musical risks that Linebacker Dirge can triumph.

This is important to point out for one reason which I shall mention briefly as I do not intend to deviate too much from the designated topic of discussion here. In June of 2010, The Gown newspaper of Queen’s University Belfast published a review of Linebacker Dirge’s debut EP, Low Self-Esteem Engine. Whilst it is not the place here to give detailed views on the reviewing actually written, the style of this review it seems to me, was one of insult and carelessness. This terse and uninformative article was a scathing and unconstructive piece of non-criticism that helped neither The Gown nor Linebacker Dirge, and by extension helped neither the local music scene nor the media that naturally shoots off from it.

The EP in question, There Are No Clean Getaways, confronts itself in part (but minimally) in the face of such a reception. Lyrically at least, Jason Gibson offers a compressed mesh of allusions and references which are dense and lengthy. Musically, the tracks are inoffensive – but in this particular release – bordering on the homogenous (aside from Hopeless Romantic each song follows a similar structure). What stands out canorously are the violin melodies of Aidan Kelly – providing a depth that would be surely missed on certain tracks; and A Northern Light’s Colm Laverty – pitting his own growing experience to the centre of this EP. Vocally, Gibson most obviously (and proclaims so) lends himself to the influences of Conor Orberst and Cursive. For me, his voice is that of a Feargal Sharkey who has listened excessively to the coherent whinings of Xiu Xiu. This ‘emo’  (if the word can ever be used in a serious sense anyway) twist is what is most likely to dichotomize opinion surrounding Linebacker Dirge’s music. It offers the Northern Ireland scene a glimpse of ambitious and aspirational folk, of a sort we are at once both used to and can be uneasy with.

The opening track, Hitchhikers May be Escaping Inmates is in its entirety the encapsulation of Gibson’s message to listeners in this EP, as it serves to outline the poles which the listener can anchor him or herself when assessing the music. Desperate pining is combined with astute epithets of overshadowing self-awareness,

“That I waste an opportunity by,

Prescribing to,

This crippling loss of drive,

And this penchant to contrive;

Such self pity and sweet excuse”

Such poeticism is indeed continuously mirrored throughout the tracks. A poeticism that, for the most part, is dense, heavy and overbearing.  This can at times mar the experience, as when such intensity is displayed the listener can find him or herself mired through it. That is to say, maintaining the pace set by Gibson’s vehement tone requires the listener to consistently stand to attention. This can work against Linebacker Dirge at times, as whilst the content – in lyrics, song composition, melodic approach and progression – all find themselves there in abundance, a lotis asked of the listener in order to engage with the material immediately.

This may sound like a negative point, but this is not the case. There Are No Getaways contains more intensity and effort and sweat than many albums currently being released, and this is something Gibson’s songwriting intentionally ensures.

Even if no close replica was created here, the first EP’s Quarterback Spy showed an ambition and experimentation that, for me, appeared controlled and deliberate.  What I am attempting to point out here is that the make up of the band’s songs is one that is less digestible in quick, three minute form, and what is required is a full album developing and maturing the intensity displayed herein, and enforcing it with further experimentation and exploration.

In terms of the structure of this EP, something as simple as placing the best track, Stand to Arms, in the middle of the tracklisting, would make a huge thematic  difference in terms of continuity. In this song, Gibson’s poetics become (accurate) societal commentary which is refreshing and challenging,

“But hate mongers will burn my city to the ground,

With the help of hipsters who’d have you believe that;

Vinyl is pivotal,

That Dubstep is biblical

And that these words will not mean shit.

Gibson claims herein to stand outside from those who simply want to, “stand on stage and blaspheme to impressionable children,” – there here lies a subtle irony in that current or newer listeners to this band would in themselves form the bulk of the ‘hipster’ fad culture he aims to critique. Having said this though, tracks of this dynamic will make that potential (to increase listenership) become the actual; the chorused end to the track and simple structure makes it  as endearing as it is potent, when taken in whole. Perfect for the stereotyped theoretical hipster in question.

Nature Curses Nurture is open to interpretation. Listened to distantly it could easily be discerned as a troubled, if confused song about a loved one or one loved; but upon lyrical inspection it does not appear so clear cut. Gibson’s lyrics emerge to me most as a struggle of inward polarization and confusion and self-denial. The confusion is highlighted at the track’s beginning, “How much is your fault? / And how much of me is me?” Bent up within the emotional, the track’s protagonist is unable to shake lose this inner doubled self; as he recourses to private heterotopias such as mirrors for (un)reality, “It makes me sick to look in the mirror, / And see your face.” For me this track in particular skews the inner boundaries between the reality of the world outside and the world inside the head of the protagonist, but for the listener it is almost impossible to derive order. Then again, this may be the artistic intention to confuse through an outward expression of inward confusion and angst.

In total, There are No Clean Getaways is most certainly a marked improvement on Low Self-Esteem Engine. Production is sharper and lyrics have been honed. If the listener is not prepared though, for the concentration required to absorb what is being asked of him/her, then some of the message may be lost, which is ashame. This EP is a landmark for a young Northern Irish band doing something not really being explored, and there is no doubting the potential for refinement and maturation will be fulfilled, should this upward gradient be maintained.

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In this piece I will begin with a track review of Kasper Rosa’s latest track, and first from their upcoming album, Coronal Mass Ejection. Following this there will be an audio interview conducted between myself and two members of the band (Steve and Ryan) a couple of days before the single’s official launch at the Speakeasy in the Student’s Union at Queen’s University Belfast.

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Since their inception in the latter half of 2009, Kasper Rosa have simultaneously been at the forefront whilst pushing harder to be the foremost of Irish

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post-rock. Their influences are both contemporaneous and classical, spawning along the musical path of Pink Floyd, King Crimson, The Mars Volta;

and most clearly Tool and Oceansize. As can be seen from these influences, they lend themselves most clearly to the elements of progressive rock which they themselves thrive on creating; hooking on addictive melodies and forming entire songs around departing and returning to these melodies in both loud and triumphant ways, in both soothing and subtle tones, and in both metallic and classical varieties. Time signatures become shifting variables and moments of epiphanic slowness are thuddingly brutalised with shifts into themes of mania and chaos.

Pinning musical variety to a plurality of influences though, does not do the music itself complete justice. It ignores the unignorable. That is, the huge progress this band have made in their time on the Northern Ireland music scene; their first EP showed glimpses of this – see Am I Now Going to be Less Sensitive? and You Fool, Warren is Dead! EP2 brought their heavy metal influence out much more clearly and their progression into more concrete progression, was a huge progression – see Scaling Mount Improbable, Pollen Grains and Magic Bullets, and Good Luck with David. Working now on album material, Kasper Rosa have emerged with a track just under ten minutes in length. And whilst being a piece of robust and formidable post-rock in and of itself, this marks a musical and creative maturity shift in the band’s material that cannot be overstated. The track, Coronal Mass Ejection, is a track infused with the band’s opening two EPs; but one which emancipates itself from them.

Coronal Mass Ejection is a track of overarching thematic grandeur. Picking up snippets from Oceansize, Tool, Incubus, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, among others; it takes these influences and creates their most individual piece yet. What this means, is that whilst this material has a clear and distinct causal route, that of Oceansize for example, it is one in which Kasper Rosa take on a new aura of creativity and magnanimity. The ambition is unmatched for bands in the current Northern Ireland circuit, and is pervaded by a sense of emotion and passion.

What begins as careful, noodling and catchy in the opening segment, carefully yet intentionally remits in to atmospheric stadium rock whilst suddenly retreating into a soft and soothing theme, it retreats further into the noodlism pointed out at the beginning; and following this begins an avalanche of progression and of vocal and instrumental manipulation, slowly advancing the crescendo as Ryan croons, “Set the atmosphere alive,” – fittingly. This though, is interrupted bombastically by a huge shift in theme and tone, building layers and volume throughout as Kasper Rosa give the track, which has spanned from classic rock – to acoustic – to progression  – an injection of metal which is supported by chants of an almost religious nature. What is striking also, upon reflection, is not just the track’s ability to soothe and stir – but also the sheer simplicity with which it is achieved. (A point which, fittingly, was echoed in the interview: below.)

Kasper Rosa Interview, 23/02/11

A self obsessed, self destructive, arrogantly self effacing egoist, solipsist and hedonist;the Westian model of tormented genius is as old and dated and it is consistently refreshing and renewing. The dichotomic lyrical explorations of Twisted Fantasy are gauged with what have already been correctly described as maximalist musical explosions and wide searching, far reaching sound scopes. With this dichotomy though, is a twisted and subverted attempt at monism – that is, West attempts to fuse reflective poetry, reflective religion, gluttonous materialism and a gluttonous lifestyle into a single, coherent philosophy. The incoherence and impossibility of this, does not matter, what matters is the struggle in trying to find it.

The mark of an alcoholic, or at least an obsessive, is marked by the apparent reasoning behind the continued use, or abuse, of a substance or thing. Is drinking done to prolong or intensify the moment, or to avert from it? A person’s answer to the question can be as revealing as it is confusing, “The plan was, to drink until the pain over/ But what’s worse, the pain or the hangover?” - as can be seen through Kanye’s answer. And continuing this self-supporting dualist idea, in that Kanye is reflective enough to mark what it is he is actually doing, but much too self-destructive to in fact not do it, is what he does throughout Twisted Fantasy. On one side we have Kanye the epicurean, pursuing pleasures and luxuries; in lieu of the American model of the pursuit of happiness, ie wealthiness. The best example of this being portrayed is in the maniacal chorus to All Of The Lights – “Cop lights, flash lights, spot lights/ Strobe lights, street lights/ (All of the lights, all of the lights)/ Fast life, drug life/ Thug life, rock life/ Every night/ (All of the lights). ”  - A song which contains contributions and samples from Elton John, Alicia Keys, Fergie, The-Dream, Tony Williams, Rihanna, Kid Cudi, John Legend, Charlie Wilson, Ryan Leslie and Elly Jackson. So often it is the case that artists can litter rather than sprinkle their albums with guest features, Gucci Mane’s and Ludacris’ two most recent albums providing two concrete recent examples.

With this litter, the artists in fact can show artistic illiteracy in letting the album have no core or, no real dictator who takes creative centrality. The same argument though, cannot be said for Kanye’s approach here. Rather, Kanye shows at once his plurality of musical influence and scope, and his ability to transcend the genre-walls which oft separate them. The most obvious example of this is the final two tracks on the album (Lost in the World and Who Will Survive in America?), where a feature/sample from Justin Vernon/Bon Iver is fused with contemporary hip-hop in Kanye, and meshed with a long sample from Gil Scott-Heron’s Comment #1. (It is also important to note, that Kanye neither gives himself the first nor the last word on the album. The opening lyrics being a short lyrical feature from Nicki Minaj.) So, whilst this plurality that I mentioned can in some artists show the blending towards hip-hop memes (what is an album now without a Drake feature?) and a lack of creative industry, in Twisted Fantasy paradoxically, Kanye’s input is so central and so key; that his input is valued above the omnipresent features. What he does in effect, is transcend every and all features, and by refusing to take the obvious centre-stage in all his tracks; he creates an atmosphere of reverence when he does grace us with with it, “No one man should have all that power.” (Not is this to demean the features whatsoever though, the features are so masterfully spread and intricately chosen (it is possibly Nicki Minaj’s best feature, and Jay-Z’s verse on So Appalled is his best in years) that the album’s thrust in this regard is that appears to be an overarching expression of the hip-hop zeitgeist, of which there is no doubt Twisted Fantasy will be a re-defining seed.)

And that is one side. On the other side we have reflection, “Me found bravery in my bravado,” self awareness and (seriously) humility. The starting point for this Westian paradigm in fact stems from the previous point, in that Kanye knows that for him to create the sort of album he is attempting (note that this is the same man who called 808′s & Heartbreaks as the ‘creation’ of the musical genre of ‘Pop Art’) he really cannot do it on his own. 808s was noticeably bereft and avoided real opportunities for more varied features or explorative production. Twisted Fantasy though, is the natural and necessary extension of 808s.

Emerging as it did, in the midst of what has been to date Kanye’s most difficult period of life; 808s provided the foundational framework for the artist, who can thoroughly express emotive substance with passion and real content, “Never was much of a romantic, I could take the intimacy/ And I know I did damage, because the look in your eyes is killing me…Baby I got a plan, runaway fast as you can.” Bravado, in the sense which Kanye epitomises it, is most classically interpreted as a means of screening others, and indeed yourself, from weakness and inadequacies that you yourself are all too aware of. Twisted Fantasy though, is so fuelled with an awareness of this destructive side of Kanye, that it becomes the heartbreaking focus of the album,

Now I embody every characteristic, of the egotistic;

He know, he so fuckin’ gifted;

I just needed time alone, with my own thoughts;

Got treasures in my mind but couldn’t open up my own vault;

My childlike creativity, purity and honesty is honestly being prodded by these grown thoughts;

Reality is catchin’ up on me;

Takin’ my inner child, I’m fighting for it: custody.

Furthering this, drawn out tracks such as the final few minutes of Runaway appear to be prolonged expressions of exasperation and frustration at how Kanye himself deals with the world, and its paradoxical in-sustainability and unavoidability.

A longing for, and refusal of, further emotional attachments are the marks of this self-acclaimed 21st Century schizoid man. It seems to me far too easy and arrogant to dismiss Kanye on account of his own twisted arrogance. He has with Twisted Fantasy created the single most ambitious, sprawling, genre-exploding and redefining album in a long time. All of this without even mentioning the hugely impressive mini-movie named Runaway recently released by Kanye: which in itself is an expression of a strand of the album’s message. Kanye has, with My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy created an album which can bear an adjective which can rarely be ascribed to albums of the now: important. It’s importance can only be reviewed as time passes, but as it stands, there is no better word.

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At least thematically, Kid Cudi owes his emergence in part to the advent of the Westian-acclaimed genre of ‘Pop Art’. Rising as he did through the lens of a post 808s & Heartbreaks world, he owes a lot to it and to the exposure he received through Kanye. That being said, the first of the Man on the Moon series was as interesting as it was innovative, creative as it was conventional, as individualist as it was pining for companionship. The truth is though, the follow up appears more as an attempt to extend the momentum and stylistic panache of the debut: but it suffers directly as a result of this. To attempt to replicate a daring album, is in itself a contradiction in terms.

For an artist of this type, wrapped up in a shell of self-pity sustained paradoxically upon a wave of appraisal, consistency conveying a sense of dread or the absurd is essential. To refer again to Kanye West, who is the modern embodiment of such a ‘misunderstood’ character in celebrity culture, Cudi’s relevance is seen in light of how much he can deviate himself from this model. For him to do this though, he need embark on a more experimental and fuller project which can fittingly represent the certain mindset he was in in the period he is endeavouring to express (such as The End of Day appeared to represent). Meaningless mumblings such as, “Pain, hurt, sadness and loneliness,” in the track Don’t Play This Song (with a wasted feature by Mary J Blige) seem shallow when he  complains at the offerings of support and guidance from those close to him, “People think they’re really being helpful, by telling me please be careful?”

But maybe observations like this are in itself the point of The Legend of Mr. Rager; Mescudi’s polarised and chasm-ed personality owe much to the unexpected garnering of wealth, and the even less expected lack of fulfilment sole monetary improvement can bring. Claiming to have relied on drugs to get him through interviews over the recent past for example, shed light on an obsessive and shifting personality, searching as it was, for the reliability of a substance or emotion which can be fulfilled with ease. Fame and money seemed to have failed where cocaine seemed to catch hold, at least periodically. Hedonism rules as it were. Constant reference to drugs surpass the realm of sheer boastfulness or lack of imaginativeness. The track Marijuana is in itself a type of homily to cannabis, spoke of in religious terms as Cudi devotes large sections of his lyricism to expressing his feeling towards the drug, “Pretty green bud, all in my blood, oh, I need it.” The structure of the album owes to the pining to create album 1 but yet deviate away from the realm of unreality which The End of Days epitomised, to a more realistic and gritty look at the artist’s life. He has clearly attempted to add fusions of new-psychedelic with some elements of rock, to give a grounding to this essentially hip-hop album. What fails again and again though, is the lethargic and convoluted lyrical dexterity which Cudi shows, or rather fails to show. Mojo So Dope in itself serves as example of a song which could realistically better the entire album by simply not being there. Its lazy chorus, deviated wordsmithery and unengaging production are a low point in what increasingly becomes a hit and miss album for the listener.  Though what makes this an even bigger tragedy, is the clear huge amount of talent Scott has. Whilst Erase Me is by no means the best song Cudi has wrote or will write, he outshines the ever-growing Kanye West. He makes it a rock song, in a sense, and Kanye’s refreshing verse do add a breath of fresh air to the context; but essentially Kanye doesn’t steal the show as much as he would do on most albums.

Deep and minimalistic tracks such as The Mood appear all too little. They express the darkness found in the previous album, but with a maturer sensibility and a greater appreciation of not trying to push all the sounds into the listener’s ear at once. As is usually the case though, there is a stand-out track which garners opposing emotions for the listener. GHOST! as a song, could easily contain all the quotables needed for the album, “Gotta, get it, through my thick head. I was so close to being dead.” “See things do, come, around. And make sense eventually.” The productions is squeaking but is permeating, and totally engaging. Almost triumphantly, CuDi proclaims his acceptance of himself, “The people I met and the places i’ve been, all will make me the man I so proudly am.” But even at this acceptance, CuDi appears unsure if the world will take him as he is, questioning when he became a ‘ghost’, pining at the end, “I hope they understand that I really understand, that they don’t understand.”

It’s a mature conclusion in a sense, but a wasteful one at that. For CuDi to really connect with the listenership he is aiming for, then it seems to me that he needs to more fully express himself in the sense he was with the first Man on the Moon. He has mentally and maturely took at least one step forward here, but at least lyrically he has taken one step back. In the current market, it’s one of the most listenable albums; but for the artist himself, much more is to be expected as he develops.

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When bracketed, our recent history has witnessed a huge resurgence of folk music in the popular scene. Now this is neither a good nor a bad thing. Folk never died; quite to the contrary. And indeed, artists such as Duke Special, Iron & Wine, Foy Vance, Lightspeed Champion and Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy have kept the genre both dynamic, and firmly within the lens of those interested enough to follow it. Out of the above listed, across the board there is critical acclaim and cult like fan base – but no extreme popularisation(to the point that is, where we grow lethargic by the mention of the artist). Depending on the person, this has varying responses. The intimacy of folk music is such that should it become too well known, it loses its immediacy and its ability to connect. With Mumford & Sons, and Bon Iver – we have two examples of how this can be the case. Many fans of the previous two are caught in a flux, between an appreciation that bands of this sort can indeed still make it very big, but a worrying streak will tell them that such commercialisation could very well stunt future creativity. This is the hipster, indie position in many respects; that their favourite artists won’t feel the need to continue creating the kind of music they have in the past. It is a facile position, but such a worry cannot be laid towards The Tallest Man On Earth(TTOE, for brevity’s sake).

This is TTOE’s fourth release – encompassing two LPs and now, two EPs. Easily dismissed as a Bob Dylan wannabe by many (how much control can he have over his singing voice?) – this Swedish born man of average height in fact has a lot of weight on the contemporary folk scene. Bourgeoning by, well known and well noticed, but with a low profile; Kristian Matsson has a growing catalogue of evolving and relevant folk – strung with variations between simple pop love songs, to intricate fingerpicking melodies reminiscent of Nick Drake.

His first album, Shallow Grave, fully introduced TTOE to the scene, infused as it was with a grip on the banjo. The Wild Hunt, the second LP, saw him reach more exclusively for his acoustic guitar. And here, with Sometimes the Blues is Just a Passing Bird – he plugs it in and increases his own dynamism and songwriting ability. His evolution is slow, but that’s the type that both works lasts.

The actual structure of the EP is fairly common, five tracks and about seventeen minutes in length; making it not just easy to listen to, but easy to listen to several times on repeat. Discussing regular issues with a poetic tongue – tracking as he does the destructive qualities(?) of relationships, and the deterioration that can befall many of them in the EP’s opener – Little River. ‘You said, “All the time it needs to take.” And all the while, there’s a shiver from some fallen tear.’

Such destructiveness though, manifests itself in different ways in different people. For Kristian, it seems, he identifies himself as in part the root of such issues, both also relating to the demanding-ness of his suitors, ‘And I’m just a shadow of your thoughts in me, but sun is setting, shadow’s growing’.

Whether such a position is tenable is one issue, but it isn’t an issue that the lyrics dwell on. Simple escapism is offered by Kristian, as it also his objective, ‘And I said, “Oh my Lord, why am I not strong?” / Like the wheel that keeps travellers travelling on,/ Like the wheel, that will take you home.’ And when this fails, he recants youth with a simple allure, twisting it with an appreciation for the aesthetic with is hopeful and innocent, ‘You call up your owner, say your heart will be there, / You’ll build a collection of scars on your knees, / To learn how to count the impossible trees. / You grew up by climbing the birches so high, / And that’s why, / You’re so beautiful now.”

It is in this EP where TTOE has reached his own lyrical peak, maturing and developing as he has in the past three-to-four years. His musings on relationships, their inevitability, their fall, and the continuing striving for them is distinctive and captures the restless human condition he is attempting to convey.

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