Daughter is a London-based indie pop trio that was formed back in 2010. Vocalist/guitarist Elena Tonra found herself needing a more full sound after starting out as a solo singer/songwriter and found exactly what she was looking for in multi-instrumentalist Igor Haefeli, whom she met in a songwriting course, and they later added drummer Remi Aguilella. A lineup stabilized, the group began recording and releasing music and performing live as word of mouth spread. They’re still a going concern and though their output has been meagre (3 LPs and a handful of EPs in fifteen years), it’s been quality stuff, all of it.
I got into the group shortly after the release of their debut album, “If you leave”, partially because of positive words that I’d read on the Internet and partially because I had seen their name added to the 2013 lineup of Osheaga and my friends and I had already purchased passes to go. That debut was on heavy rotation for me that spring and early summer (along with the other groups I was hoping to see at the festival) and I totally got into the heavy atmospherics and Tonra’s soft touch at the mike. Admittedly, I was a bit concerned seeing their set being scheduled so early in the afternoon on the second day of the festival. “If you leave” definitely has a late night/early morning feel to it, the kind of music that you can wrap yourself up in like a blanket and gulp down the dregs of your last glass of red wine, so I was unsure how it would translate under the bright and hot afternoon summer sun. Of course, any uncertainty was washed away by wave after wave of ethereal guitars and Tonra’s smiles and obvious glee and surprises at the amassed appreciate crowd for their early set.
“Two feet standing on a principle
Two hands digging in each others wounds
Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats
Darkness falling, leaves nowhere to move”
“Still” was released as an advanced promotional single for said debut album, but not quite a proper single. A crying shame, if you asked me because this song is a beast. It kicks off with a lonely guitar played in a vacuous space, a worthy accompaniment for Elena Tonra’s melancholy vocal delivery. Synths eventually wash in with a driving drum machine rhythm and it all feels like it continues to build, echoing crashes abound, an expectant explosion. But this epiphany never is truly realized. Daughter teases and taunts here, leaving you wanting, breathless and unsatiated, the song ending abruptly and forcing you to want to push the repeat button over and over again, just to see if, this time, they will grant that release.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 2013 list, click here.
A couple of posts ago, I initiated a new mini-series focusing on my favourite albums of 1990. I shared some words on the concept, the fact that 1990 was the year with which I started out this blog, focusing then, on its best tunes, and finally, providing a handful of album honourable mentions. So I’ll not blather on too much today for preamble. If you’re interested where I was musically and in life in general that year, have a looky-loo here. Otherwise, I’ll dig right into albums 10 through 6 of my list of top albums for 1990*.
Enjoy!
#10 The Northern Pikes “Snow in June”
The Pikes’ third and best-selling record feels inextricably tied to my DNA sometimes. It’s not one I listen to often anymore but whenever I do, it instantly transports me back to my teenaged bedroom, where listened to this cassette tape on repeat, constantly flipping sides, while playing hours upon hours of ‘Pool of radiance’ on my C64. It’s way more than just the ubiquitous CanCon classic, “She ain’t pretty“. There’s thirteen solid rock tracks that are tempered by folk leanings and varied in sound according to which of the three vocalists wrote and led the singing on each. Perhaps the nostalgia is strong here but I stand by my love for this album. It’s unfortunate that the Saskatchewan-based quartet couldn’t keep the momentum up for their next album.
#9 Jane’s Addiction “Ritual de lo habitual”
Jane’s Addiction’s second proper studio album was handed to me on cassette tape by a friend and fellow new initiate to the alternative music scene, calling it industrial and comparing the group to Nine Inch Nails and Ministry, both bands I was just getting into. Of course, Jane’s weren’t really industrial but they had that similar rage and wild sound and perhaps even more so in a sense. There’s so many great tracks on ‘Ritual’ and I’ve always thought that what set them so apart was that the songs are all slightly unhinged, as if the whole ship could all fall apart at any moment. This orchestrated chaos was what made the American quartet led by Perry Farrell so great but it was also their undoing**. They broke up at the end of the tour for the album, the finale of which also saw the group headlining the very first Lollapalooza festival.
#8 Sinéad O’Connor “I do not want what I haven’t got”
I remember buying this album on cassette tape as part of Columbia House’s 9 albums for a penny, way back in the day, and for the longest time, only listening to “Nothing compares 2 u” because that was the song I knew from my weekly viewing of the Chum FM 30. Once I moved past that one tune, though, I grew to appreciate Sinéad’s other material. I later migrated away from listening to her, not because of her infamous photo burning appearance on SNL or her outspokenness on many topics, but because my tastes took me in a different direction. However, I’ve since returned to this album many times over the last couple of decades. Sinéad was a great songwriter. Not just a lyricist but also in the way she created a sound, sometimes infusing Celtic folk sounds with funky drum beats and sometimes leaving it all bare, singing a capella and including her inhalations of breathe as another tool in her tool belt. Such a legendary voice and polarizing persona.
#7 The La’s “The La’s”
You’ve heard about one hit wonders, right? Well, how about one album wonders? The La’s were a five-piece Liverpool-based rock act led by Lee Mavers that were active from 1983 to 1992. They released a handful of singles throughout that time, including one of my favourite one hit wonders, “There she goes”, but only ever managed the one studio album before disbanding***. But what a great album it was. The self-titled debut is filled with short and jangly rock gems that dig their way into your head and root themselves in there for good measure, much like another act from that same England town. It’s another one of those great rock ‘what if’ stories. Who knows what a second record would have meant to the band and perhaps rock music as a whole.
#6 Concrete Blonde “Bloodletting”
Concrete Blonde’s third album was oh-so-close to breaking into my top five for 1990. Previously, the sound of the Hollywood-based, indie rock trio led by Johnette Napolitano was mostly pedestrian rock and yet, their following was meagre, being picked up mostly by the college radio kids. With “Bloodletting”, they ventured into gothic rock territory and surprisingly, found commercial success for the first time. I remember listening to this album around my wife at one point early on in our relationship and she was surprised that I was listening to a band that she knew. But this album is so much more than “Joey“. Every track is dark and haunting and full of soul and drenched with meaning for me. I could listen to this album all night long.
*With each album in this post, I’ve tried to choose a representative track that was not featured on my Best tunes list for 1990, partly to show the breadth of each and partly to avoid being repetitive.
**I’ve often thought that it could have been Jane’s and not Nirvana that broke alternative to the mainstream, had they managed to survive the touring cycle for this album.
***There were a number of attempts at reforming over the years but none have really stuck up to now.
Stay tuned for album #5 on this list. In the meantime, you can check out my Best Albums page here if you’re interested in my other favourite albums lists.
Memory is a funny thing. And it seems to have gotten an even more bizarre sense of humour over the past half decade or so.
I used to have a great memory, being able to recall the names of every actor and every director of all my favourite films, having the names of all the great musicians and bands I love at my fingertips at the odd chance that someone might ask for my opinion or any music recommendations. It hasn’t been quite as reliable of late, some of that being related to certain medical issues that I’ve been recovering from, but some of it might just be my age, and even just the age we’ve been living in, with all the collective insanity of the last five years. All in all, my relationship with and my thoughts about memory have definitely changed and so when I think about it, see references to it in films and hear raps on the theme in music lyrics, I take note and ponder.
And even though it may not be the case, it feels like Glenn Donaldson, frontman and driving force behind The Reds, Pinks & Purples, also seems to have a complicated relationship with memories and nostalgia. His songs (and there are a lot of them of late) mostly sound like they are ruminations on some memory or other, whether explicitly or implicitly, directly through narrative or hinted at through the dreamlike quality of his music. Whenever I put on his records, I know that my mood is going to be quite nostalgic by the end, whether I started out that way or not.
I got into The Reds, Pinks & Purples with their third release, 2021’s “Uncommon weather“, and immediately went digging for more of their tunes. There was already plenty to find and there’s been no lack of new output every year, given that Donaldson has been quite prolific with this project, releasing over 8 albums and just as many (if not more) EPs since his first release in 2019. And the tunes have been consistently great, and consistent in their dream pop sound that hearkens back to heyday of late 80s John Hughes soundtrack material.
“I always said you were the thief
you’ll be a star
with a red guitar
you took from better bands we used to see”
Track two on “You might be happy someday”, the 2020 mini-album by The Reds, Pinks & Purples, is a spritely three and half minute wistful guitar jangle wonder called “Forgotten names”. It’s held together by a jaunty but cheerful drum beat, seemingly content to just hang out, cool for cats, simply drifting in all the reverb, but it’s there to tempt your toes to tap. Donaldson’s voice is typically plaintive, like a memory of a dream faintly remembered from a lemon-light sunny Sunday afternoon nap, the kind where you dip in and out of consciousness, you’ll never know which was which later on. It feels like a song about those people that have made a mark on us, like it or not, something they said or did coming back to haunt us at random moments, even though they may have only passed through our lives for a short time and though their names are long lost to us.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 2020 list, click here.
My (life in) music lists 