February 20, 1994. I had tickets to see my then favourite band, The Wonder Stuff, a concert for which I had doled out a measly $10. I met my friend Tim and a group of his friends in the lineup for the show and I was a bit shocked to learn that many of them were mainly there to see the opening band: Chapterhouse. I wasn’t unfamiliar with the group, of course, far from it. I had a copy of their debut album, “Whirlpool”, on the other side of a C90 of Blur’s “Leisure”. I had liked it quite a bit and went out to get a copy of their sophomore release, “Blood music” when it came out. However, it was their blazing opening set that night that really got me into them (the Stuffies were pretty awesome too but that’s a story for another time).
Chapterhouse were a five-piece from Reading, England that were led by Andrew Sherrif and Stephen Patman. They were in existence from 1987 to 1994 and in that time released two albums, a bunch of EPs, and were pigeonholed twice, in two very difference music scenes around during that time. The band never identified with either the acid house/baggy or the shoegaze scenes, but you can definitely hear smacks of both in “Pearl”. Thanks to its heavy, muscle-flexing drum samples and heavenly organ sounds it begs for dance floor nirvana but the fuzzed out guitars and Andrew Sherrif’s whispery vocals allow for plenty of floor-staring introspection. It’s explosive and dreamy, foot-stomping and floating, a real beaut of dichotomy. Of course, the fact that Slowdive’s Rachel Goswell added her backing vocals to the mix didn’t hurt the song’s pedigree in the latter genre.
The song was released in two versions on an EP of the same name and as the second track on the band’s legendary debut album. I heard it first on the album, that cassette was rewound many times to this song, especially after that concert. It’s become one of my favourite songs ever over the years. And if you’re looking at that number in the title and wondering how such a favourite song falls so far out of the top ten, that just shows how much I loved the music from 1991. Stay tuned for the rest of this list – it’s going to be great.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 1991 list, click here.
On June 18th, 1988, Depeche Mode played the 101st and final concert of its “Music for the masses” tour, selling over 60,000 tickets to Pasadena’s Rose Bowl stadium, an astounding feat, even for a rock band, which Depeche Mode was decidedly not. (But more on that on a bit.) The show, and tour leading up to it, was immortalized in an excellent documentary and an accompanying double live album, both titled, of course, “101”.
This live album was my real introduction to the band, a couple of years after its release. I had, of course, heard “People are people” at high school dances and “Personal Jesus” had just been released as a single and was being played all over the place. I had told my friend John I really liked the latter of these two and he made me a copy of “101”, a cassette tape that spent a lot of time in my bedroom stereo and opened my eyes and ears to a whole different world of music. It wasn’t very long at all before I was purchasing all of their albums on cassette tape and compact disc.
“Music for the masses” is Depeche Mode’s sixth album and it was made at a time when new wave and synthpop was on the wane. The title is the band being ironic about the fact that their music was unpopular and not commercial in an increasingly hair metal and rock environment. Interesting, then, that this was the album that was their most successful to date and finally broke them in the US. It was daring in that they changed producers for the first time and reduced their use of samples in exchange for more experimentation with synths, but they did not give in to pressure to pick up rock guitars or to make pop music. It is austere and dark. It is love and sex, often of the deviant kind. And interestingly, it is a road record, not just in its lyrical references, but the sound, production, and pacing makes for great night driving.
For me, “Music for the masses” is an iconic band at the top of their game (whether or not it’s their true apex is debatable). It is full of nostalgia for me and never really sounds dated, as some of their earlier material does. Have a listen to my three picks for you below and tell me if you disagree.
“Little 15”: Our first song is one that was never meant to be a single but a French label wanted to release it as such and so it became the fourth one off the album. Because it barely even made the album, it wasn’t one that appeared on “101” so I first heard it in context with the rest of the album. I liked it immediately but originally thought “little 15” was the girl. I’ve since realized that it refers to a teenaged boy in love with an older woman and there is an innocence here that is betrayed by the something sinister in the synthesized strings. The way they jump and cavort always reminded me of a mad scientist, villain type character from the Bugs Bunny cartoons, playing the harpsichord in an off kilter and crumbling castle while creaky bats flit about around him. Sounds quite the contrast with my perceived content of the song, I know, but is it, really?
“The things you said”: Heavy low-end thumping, creating a waft of negative and empty space, space filled by sad and plodding notes, sounds emulating saxophones and xylophones, and Martin Gore’s deeply disappointed and tear-soaked vocals. It’s a song for night time and candle lit bedrooms. It’s a song for teen angst, though I suppose this scenario could occur at any stage of life. One would hope these mistakes, that of ending relationships due to betrayal and the spreading of poisoned words, could only occur during the foolishness of youth. I remember singing along to this one quite a bit when I was feeling sorry for myself, you know those moments, when your own teen-aged drama feels like it’s the most important thing happening. “I get so carried away. You brought me down to earth. I thought we had something precious. Now I know what it’s worth.” Indeed, songs like this were why some of my friends called them “depressed mode” but I still love it.
“Behind the wheel”: My third pick for you is the third single released off the album and is the most obvious of the “road songs” I referenced above. Indeed, the extended remix of the song incorporates a cover of Bobby Troup’s “Route 66”, another great driving song, and samples of cars roaring by. “My little girl, drive anywhere. Do what you want. I don’t care… tonight.” It all begins with a sort of rattling sound, presumably a hubcap that has loosed itself from a speeding car and left to skid and rest on a dusty deserted highway. Then, the song’s driving beat beams us back into the car, where the driver is determined. We don’t know where she is going or when she needs to get there, but it seems to be soon. It is really just enough for us to be in the passenger seat, letting someone else drive and enjoy the ride. It is dark, sexy, and sleek, inferring speed and a hint of danger. Great tune to dance to and obviously, for driving.
In case you missed them, here are the previous albums in this list:
Sometimes the way we classify and typify bands and sounds and try to put names to certain styles or movements really turns me off. Words like “Emo” and “Screamo“ and “Nugaze” and “Chillwave” and “Folktronica” just make me shake my head. I get it. And these terms often do aptly describe the music they are meant to represent. However, if I had heard the term “Folktronica”, for instance, in reference to Lanterns on the Lake before listening to their debut album, “Gracious tide, take me home”, I might never have picked it up.
As it stands right now, I don’t actually remember at all how I came across them. In 2011, I was listening to everything that was being released, an exercise in futile mass consumption that was initiated by a fledgling blog. I all of a sudden felt that I had to have my finger even more fully pressed down hard on the pulse of music, everything new and hip. It was futile because there’s just too much out there and I was forced to decide whether I liked something in fewer samples, one or two go arounds, rather than five or six. I was also discovering bands in bunches, which meant I wasn’t always getting the time I wanted with each album before I was on to the next. I’ve been trying to remedy this in the last couple of years, since putting that old blog to bed and starting afresh, to go back to spend more time with albums that did stick out amongst the rest and give them their due. “Gracious tide, take me home” is one of these and I’ve so been looking forward to spending more time with it to write this post.
Lanterns on the Lake are a five-piece from Newcastle-on-Tyne that has released three studio albums in total, a live album, and a handful of EPs since their formation in 2007. They recently toured in support of one of my very favourite bands, James, and by all accounts, they got on quite well. Listening to both bands, this doesn’t surprise me in the least. Like James, Lanterns on the Lake doesn’t just write music, as much as build it. Their sound is very atmospheric and big and beautiful.
“Lungs quicken”, the album opener, is a prime of example of what I speak. It’s washes of synths, a subdued electronic beat and the hint of strings. Lead vocalist Hazel Wilde lightly touches her brush to the canvas, breathy and whispery, a tinkling of keys. It makes you think that their name is perfect. Candles in paper lanterns, hundreds of them, maybe thousands, just visible in the mist out on the grey lake. And then the wind whips up, the music builds in volume and gusto, and the lanterns jostle on the waves, crashing and splashing but not going out. At five and a half minutes, “Lungs quicken” does just that, light breathing becomes breathless and just when you think you have to give up, it ends, leaving you wanting to start all over again.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 2011 list, click here.
My (life in) music lists 