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M PageContents: Manic Street Preachers, The Mars Volta,John Martyn, Grant McLennan, Randy Meisner, Natalie Merchant, Mercury Rev, Midnight Oil, Joni Mitchell, The Modern Lovers, Alanis Morissette, Van Morrison, The Mutton BirdsManic Street Preachers [with special guest reviewer jeré] have their own pageThe Mars Volta have their own pageJohn MartynOne World(1977)I should probably know better than to attempt to cover an important artist with a 35 year career with a single review, but this is a great record and deserves attention. Glasgow born Martyn is primarily a folk rock artist but One World moves far beyond the folk idiom, although these songs are substantial enough to stand up in a less adorned context. Martyn borrows from jazz, using horns and guest players like Steve Winwood to add improvisational touches. Rhythmically, the repetitive grooves feel a few years ahead of their time, although they're derived more from a jazz and dub approach than the drum machines and world beats that later musicians would use. Martyn's sustained guitar technique is also an important feature of the record's sound, often primarily there to provide texture and using a low key sound with little attack. As a whole this sound seems ahead of its time, and perhaps it's Martyn's low key presence that stops this record from being particularly attention grabbing. One World's most memorable song is the one that strays the furthest from the mould; the earnest 'Couldn't Love You More' is the only song on the album not to feature percussion, with only Danny Thompson's bass and Winwood's electric piano joining Martyn's acoustic guitar. At the other end of the spectrum, 'Certain Surprise' almost feels like a jazz standard, showcasing Martyn's surprisingly athletic vocals and more grand keyboard work from Winwood, while 'Big Muff' (written with Lee 'Scratch' Perry, of all people) rides its groove for six and a half minutes. Most experimental of all is the closing 'Small Hours', where Martyn's ambient guitar lines are exposed without any accompanying instrumentation for long periods of the song. Without hearing Martyn's other work (1973's Solid Air and 1980's Grace And Danger are often cited as among his best album), One World is highly recommended. Once you tune into his low key approach, he's doing some very creative stuff, and One World deserves more attention. 
 Grant McLennan can be found on the Go-Betweens pageRandy Meisner can be found on the Eagles pageNatalie Merchant has her own pageMercury RevDeserter's Songs(1998)I really appreciate Deserter's Songs' sonic textures. A pastoral ambience that recalls The Band is created by rustic imagery in the lyrics and an impressive array of retro keyboards: chamberlain, Hammond B3, mellotron, clavinet, and harpsichord. The texture is given virility by an unmistakably nineties alternative edge when the rhythm section and guitars cut in, while low key instrumentals are allowed to burble along modestly. Deserter's Songs is enjoyable on the basis of texture alone, but Mercury Rev also write some accomplished songs. The lilting 'Goddess on a Hiway' is the album's crown jewel, while the distorted 'The Funny Bird' gains impact by deviating furthest from the Deserter's Songs formula. Elsewhere songs sound derivative: 'Endlessly' always reminds me of the Christmas Carol 'Silent Night', while 'Opus 40' is suspiciously reminiscent of Big Star's 'Give Me Another Chance'. Still, it is nice to hear an album from the 1990s that has a relatively timeless quality to it; chances are that Deserter's Songs will sound better in a hundred years time than modern pop of the same era, such as DC Talk's Supernatural.
Comments: from bluerondo Mercury Rev, aye? Does this mean that you have finally purchased an album released in the last decade? Good on you - a superb choice :) Midnight Oil have their own pageJoni Mitchell has her own pageThe Modern LoversThe Modern Lovers(1976)Falling firmly in the category of records that fail to set the charts alight, but prove extremely pivotal and influential in hindsight, Jonathan Richman's vision of the isolated nerdy suburbanite sounds almost like it single-handedly influenced the entire Flying Nun roster. Its groundbreaking nature is even more apparent when one considers that the debut album was mostly recorded in 1972, a long time before the punk and new wave it sounds like - 'Roadrunner' was a favourite rehearsal track for the early Sex Pistols. There's a pretty obvious trace of the Velvet Underground in The Modern Lovers sound, with the raw guitar work and lyrical honesty, confirmed by John Cale's presence in the producer's chair, but while Lou Reed oozed New York decadence, Richman is his young and awkward suburban cousin, finding meaning in the small details. Richman's simple but effective guitar is joined by two new wave luminaries; future Talking Head Jerry Harrison on tinny organ and future Car David Robinson on drums. While the finished product is relatively raw and loose, it's also extremely accessible; Richman's full of interesting stories and great hooks and vocal melodies, and any open-minded music fan should adore this record. The closest things to standards on The Modern Lovers are the opening 'Road Runner, a two chord rumination on the joys of driving which Richman wrote while still a teen, and the relatively nasty 'Pablo Picasso', with the classic rhyme "Pablo Picasso/Never got called an asshole/Not like you." Elsewhere, it's all solid and all quotable; the hilariously overwrought 'I'm Straight' ("I'm certainly not stoned, like Hippie Johnny/I'm straight and I want to take his place"), the strangely touching 'Dignified and Old' and the sexual frustration of 'Astral Plane' ("Tonight I'm all alone in my room/I'll go insane if you won't sleep with me/I'll still be with you/I'm gonna meet you on the astral plane"). If we're nitpicking, the first side is stronger than the second, and 'Hospital', resurrected from Jerry Harrison's vaults and not on the original album, outstays its welcome, but these are only murmurs among great songs and a prescient sound. Despite being cobbled together from various sessions, the twelve track CD version, released in 1989 on Rhino, hangs together perfectly and its unique sense of personality, its solid musical foundations and its huge historical importance are tangible immediately. Even if Richman's subsequent career has been reportedly erratic, his debut is an effortless classic; a summation of an awkward suburban teenager embracing innocence in the face of a cynical world.
Alanis MorissetteJagged Little Pill(1995)I'm a little embarrassed about reviewing Jagged Little Pill, as it represents the only time that I've ever jumped onto a popular bandwagon. My sister and I pooled our resources to buy Jagged Little Pill, until I tired of it and my sister offered to buy out my share on the basis that it introduced her to good music. By incriminating someone else, you can always escape with some dignity intact. Back in 1996 I would have launched a backlash against Jagged Little Pill and given it one star, but hopefully I've gained a more reasonable perspective now. Objectively Jagged Little Pill is a definitive record of the mid 1990s, reaching the public just as grunge toned town sufficiently to enter the mainstream. With her confessional lyrics and the blazing guitars on the single 'You Oughta Know', Alanis hit a spot among the wider populace. While she's obviously not a unique case, Alanis' cult of personality seems somehow analogous to the huge line of burn bright and fade fast pop stars who have surfaced since, although she's obviously too human to be manufactured. The most intriguing aspect of Alanis was the shock factor of her lyrics, specifically those that centred around her bitter relationship with an older man. Jagged Little Pill's most vitriolic songs, namely 'You Oughta Know' and 'Right Through You', arguably hold up the best, with Alanis unleashing nasty lines like "You didn't think I'd show up with my army/And this ammunition on my back." That's actually one of her milder dissertations, and she managed to bring her feminism (I don't mind those two songs at all, as they're based on personal experience) into many homes along the way. 'You Oughta Know' is enhanced with the presence of Flea on bass, Dave Navarro on guitar and Benmont Tench on organ, who form some kind of minor league dream team. Other good songs include 'All I Really Want', which has a clever part where Alanis asks "Why are you so petrified of silence? Here, can you handle this?" and the music stops, and 'Ironic', which raised a controversy among English teachers who argued that the song was about a series of bummers rather than true irony. If you haven't noticed the trend here, Alanis sounds a lot more appealing when she's going full bore and guitars are drowning her out. The mellow songs emphasise the unpleasant whine in her vocals, and aren't much fun to sit through. 'Not The Doctor' is the absolute nadir, while I've heard 'Hand In My Pocket' and 'You Learn' on the radio so many times that I'd never notice if I never heard them again. Her themes seem a little too overwrought in 'Perfect' (pressure on children from over ambitious parents), 'Forgiven' (attack on Catholicism) and 'Mary Jane' (overworked female), and none of them are particularly musically compelling. Alanis is such a confrontational character on Jagged Little Pill that it's always her lyrics that make the biggest impression, and because her voice and her lyrics often make me squeamish, the music doesn't generally do enough to compensate. In short, I find most of Jagged Little Pill quite interesting, but I don't find very much of it appealing. I also have a copy of her Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie lying round and I'll get to it eventually, although it's so long and pretentious it might take me a few years.
Van Morrison has his own pageThe Mutton BirdsSalty(1994)Don McGlashan kicked around the New Zealand alternative scene during the 1980s, fronting Blam Blam Blam's iconic and ironic 'There Is No Depression In New Zealand' (there are no sheep upon our farms), before venturing closer to the mainstream with The Mutton Birds. Named after a rare, but apparently delectable, seagoing bird, The Mutton Birds infused their pop with slightly off beat ingredients of psychedelia and a DIY attitude. McGlashan's euphonium gives the band an unusual texture to play with, while bassist Alan Gregg contributes a brace of straightforward pop songs that balance McGlashan's artier inclinations nicely. 'Anchor Me' is one of the best songs to ever come out of New Zealand; its nautical theme gives it a distinct national identity, but otherwise it's a wonderfully universal love song. The fragile and atmospheric verses give way to the crashing chorus, where McGlashan implores "anchor me, anchor me/in the middle of your deep blue sea," and the final result is utterly gorgeous and utterly devastating. That song's perfect; it's a shame there's nothing else anywhere near its standard of Salty. That's not to say that the rest is a total write off but it's unnecessarily sprawling without feeling epic enough to justify the sprawl, and it badly needs an editor. The band certainly have their moments; 'Heater' opens the album with a clever arrangement where a peppy bassline and euphonium are layered over driving guitars, but even that song crawls past its optimum length. 'Queen's English' starts off with a hypnotic groove and off-beat atmosphere, but keeps going interminably for seven minutes. Gregg manages to keep his songs more concise, and his melodies are catchier than McGlashan's, but he lacks a sense of decorum: the already cheesy 'Wellington' has a nasty key change at the end and 'Esther' is spoiled by an inane monologue, leaving 'There's a Limit' as his only fully successful composition. There's a few other nice songs like 'Ngaire' and 'In My Room' that get lost among the sprawl; the second half especially gets quite monotonous. The Mutton Birds are potentially capable of making a really good album, but Salty isn't it, despite the presence of the excellent 'Anchor Me'.
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Written 2001-2007, Graham Fyfe
