Les Revenants; The Returned, and Thou Have Returneth

I've always had a constant, unconditional love for post-rock, yet somehow Mogwai have always been one of those groups that I've felt have teetered on this particular fence.
Call me old fashioned, and yeah I feel a little bit like an old dog that you can't teach new tricks to; but after being introduced to this genre by God is an Astronaut, Pelican and the likes; I've always felt that it was more about the emotion through instrumentation that resonated this style rather than vocal projection. This is maybe why I've never considered myself an avid Mogwai fan - only occasionally listening to the songs which I can put my own words and emotions to, rather than trying to associate with the lyrics that have been placed before me. Nonetheless, I have always felt this band play beautiful emotionally-driven music that I'll always be able to relate to on many different levels.

Now this is more of a dual-reflection update rather than putting the spotlight solely on Mogwai, as it comes hand-in-hand with a new television series I've recently started watching. Some of you might know it, some not. Shamefully to say, I've been watching it on Channel 4 but was recommended it through word-of-mouth as it was apparently "down your street". The Returned is a French television show that has reached the UK solely through being subtitled for British audiences (once again, I am shamed but unfortunately my lack of bilingualism has given me the disadvantage of not knowing any of these otherwise brilliant foreign television shows.) Originally titled for it's primary French Audience, Les Revenants is still pretty fresh with its 2013 air release, and I would highly recommend it for anyone who hasn't seen it - however if you're like me and can't speak a word of French further than "voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir", you're going to have to a hard time. Or you'll just have to follow my lead, and do what I've painstakingly had to, and grit your teeth in anticipation of every weekly episode (currently waiting on episode four right now.)

In a nutshell - and I won't leak any spoilers just in case, the series is set in a small Alpine village where tragedy has struck on more than a few occasions in its recent years. A coach carrying a major group of school children swerves off a high cliff; that sort of awful thing. Key themes to note here that don't give any fundamental plot lines away are that essentially the accidents that have happened - those which have resulted in lives ending far before they should have, are beginning to be reviewed. People who died before their prime with otherwise no knowledge to their short lives ending, are being resurrected from the dead without any knowing that they are no longer alive. Les Revenants, or The Returned as I know it, explores a bizarre consequence of the lives of people who have been affected by the loss of someone close, and how - as much as the mind longs for their return, everyday life is altered when the unaware dead try to continue to coexist with the living, oblivious of their own fatal circumstances.

As I watched the very first episode with an open-yet-sceptical mind, I couldn't help but notice how powerful the soundtrack was. It's hard to write about how it affected me without releasing any spoilers, but each song ran shivers down my spine and I made a mental reminder to look into the soundtrack afterwards. The music was intense, yet it felt fragile while in tune with its visual context. If anything, it was the music that emphasized the extremities of emotion in The Returned. Although I didn't know how to personally relate to most of  the themes that this series shadowed, somehow now I could suddenly understand them. The music fuelled my empathy for the characters in the show and how they grieved for the people they lost. The numbing shock they felt when those they had once hysterically mourned for, had returned to them.

Hit the break for the track, and a little more gushing.

I chose to write about the world today.

For the first in what seems like a very long period of time, I sank my toes into the sandy shores of a beach. It’s fascinating how the mind - through a fluid concoction of memories and images provided to us through films and photographs, conjures a standard picturesque idea of what one expects to experience in a place or time.

At this beach, I didn't see sandcastles or ice-cream trucks, nor did I see stripy deckchairs or picnic blankets. I didn't even see the sun, as it was too shy to greet me today, and hid behind the comforts of the thickly layered clouds that blanketed the blue sky above and around them. This beach was the polar opposite of what I’d allowed my mind to naively visualize for me in the many years of beachly absence.

 Although it’s June and what should be the peak of this year’s summer, there was a chill to the ocean winds that bit my cheeks and tore my lungs with every sharp breath inhaled. But standing on the steps that met the dunes; with the touch of cold grains of sand between my toes, I decided I preferred this new image of the beach to that I had once previously stored in my mind. I liked it like this; vast and empty. Only a handful of other people were here, but the salty breeze that I could taste just as much as I could smell covered their subtle footprints as they walked way out in the distance. The tide was already out, and the damp sand stretched out for what seemed like miles. One could only wonder how long it would take to touch the waters of this shore.

 I realized how easy it is to forget majestic beauty like that when you’re obligated to partake in the strict regime of social contribution. It seems as though there aren’t ever enough hours in the day to appreciate anything like that beach. Or maybe we grow accustomed to the idea that these delicate moments will always be there to experience; that our own constricted realities strapping us down to the consuming world can always be separated from us at another, less spontaneous point in time. 

And maybe there always will be another time. However, I know that even for that short fleeting moment, where I stood and stared out at the shimmering surface of the ocean into the horizon; I felt infinite, and that there was nothing that could ever change that.

Born Again

Well, it's been a while guys. It's been a hell of a long time since I last posted here. Nearly half a year in fact.

In my defence, a lot has happened to me. I've had a lot of character-building experiences since the last post I wrote - for the good, and the bad.

In a nuthsell, I got my first job. I worked in a restaurant for the best of four months, where the the highlights came from making some really brilliant friends whom I hope to continue spending time with, as well the sexy Polish man behind the bar who I regretfully shared an unrequited sexual tension for (long story.)  The down-lows; from cutlery polishing to angry guests, to "owing" the restaurant more money than what I was recieving (another long story.)

Then I had the absolute foremost love of my life separate from me. It's been a rocky few months but I'm always going to hope for the best - being the hopeless romantic that I am.

But enough about me.

I just thought I'd leave a message here, letting you know that I'm still alive and breathing. And that I've got a new job - with hours far more forgiving than the ones I used to have at my restaurant job.

And I'll be writing again. If not for anyone, then for myself. This is something I want to persue and despite the fact that my new current job is zonkyears away from what I hope for in the future, at least it means that I have the freedom to feel awake and enthusiastic for the chance to write about all the beautiful new music that has become of since I last wrote.

Love to all, and speak soon.

Elisha xxx

An Album Review: I Break Horses "Hearts"

I admit that the regularity of my writing has somewhat plummeted in these last few weeks. I blame it on the fact that I like a good party from time to time, so celebrated my 21^st in identical fashion. Besides the obvious showering of birthday presents, cake and alcohol, one of the best things about it being your birthday is that you have complete control of what music gets blasted through the speakers. All night long and into the early hours. As the Churchill Bulldog says, "Ohhhh yes!".

Now, I’m a very calm person (most of the time). I can’t help it if I enjoy down-tempo songs with chilled beats and sexy vibes. I have a little bit of a tendency to favour more somber tracks, so thought it would be in the best interest of everyone to perhaps find something new, loud and delightfully upbeat.

I Break Horses are a Stockholm-born duo formed in 2008 consisting of Maria Lindén and Fredrik Balck. Their newly released 2011 album Hearts was decidedly going to be the music I would be sipping birthday Cava to. This album is a pretty decent pay off, as I’m a rather big fan of the shoegaze and dreampop genres that I Break Horses greatly incorporates while merging these influences with favorable buoyancy, making Hearts feel distinctively indie at times.

I Break Horses focus greatly on dreampop vibes and electronic synths, ultimately leaving me with the impression that multiple layers and generous use of texturing seem to be the key to malevolent ethereal brilliance in mainstream shoegaze. There’s a strange, but enchanting mixture of artistic influences to their sound, stemming from the more obvious angelic characteristics of M83, Animal Collective, Beach House and many other contemporary shoegaze music groups to a more traditional indie-rock feel through their unique embodiment of occasional guitar riff simplicity. The aural combination of these polar opposites feel natural and composed with ease, while an upbeat kick of imperturbable subtlety merges together their contrasting sounds.

           

The first thing that I noticed after the initial wall of airy electronic immersion was the startling, uncanny resemblance that the vocals share with Brian Aubert of the Silversun Pickups. It’s an unexpected comparison and a boldly made one nonetheless, but if you take a listen to Wired (3^rd track off Hearts) you’ll hear what I mean. It’s definitely safe to say that the delicate, airy voices that sing above treble-pitched drones and distorted electronic experimentation are a growing trend and nearly iconic within the current ambient-incorporated music scene.

Album Review: Young Galaxy - Shapeshifting

I'm ashamed. It's been quite some time since I last updated. Too long, in fact. Like a rain drought that stubbornly refuses to quench the thirst of desperate crops. Ha. I wish I was important like rain. Damn these delusions of grandeur.

Anyway, a little aural escapism should do me some good. I need a break from the big bad world, and no abstract fills the void like the safe-house of music.

Another Canadian group for my liking! This is Vancouver's Young Galaxy, and I actually discovered this band pretty soon after my explosive obsession with Austra (once again, I emphasize my appreciation to Last.fm).  After beating out the first initial impressions of their 3rd album, Shapeshifting (2011) from "ooh!" to "hmm" as the album plays through, I've decided that Young Galaxy have become quite pleasing to my ears, and have grown a fondness for their interesting style and timbre of music.

Now at first, you may feel as though a lot of the songs off Shapeshifting are dance tracks that have been tended to with warm, damp cotton wool. I mean that in the best sense, because although this album feels energetic and inviting, their tempo isn't agile enough for you to go all out with your groove on. With complex bass lines and rhythms that play a prime role in their tunes, there's a great deal of generic exploration, and you should look out for the experimentation with bells and triangles throughout their songs that play on the ethereality that fuels their dream-pop vibe. There's a definite layered concoction of different musical styles coming through in Shapeshifting however, with a mixture of synth-pop reverbs and effects with indie-rock guitar riffs, and even a positive conflict with a wee bit of jazz reminding me of Sade - but this can be rooted down to Catherine McCandless creamy yet forceful vocals. Just to further add to this bizarre but brilliant combination of sounds, there's a clear incorporation of tropical drum cadence - especially in songs like "Cover Your Tracks" which are joyfully celebrated through Shapeshifting being produced by Studio's D. Lissvik.

Mogwai - Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will

When I first discovered this band back in late 2008 (yes I did spend the first 18 years of my life beneath a rock), the first thought that crossed my mind was whether Mogwai knew the derogative nature of their title. It's a pretty sweet original name for a band nonetheless, but being a British expatriot who grew up in Hong Kong, I've always been fully aware of the (desensitized) term Gweilo which some locals refer to Westerners by; roughly translating from Cantonese to mean "foreign devil" or "ghost man". HOWEVER, after doing a bit of homework it turns out that the term Mogwai comes from the fictional furry creature from the Gremlins films. So a slap on the wrists, and shame on me for making such ignorant assumptions.

Anyway, this Mogwai is far from being fictional or furry. The Glaswegian five-piece released their 7th studio album Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will in February earlier this year, which is filled with tunes of the same delicate chaos as ever before. This most recent album continues to commemorate Mogwai's dynamical beauty that contrasts loud, thrashing distortion and drums against softer, more pensive sections of ambience that are impeccably free to be explored through their long-length tracks. While there is a darkness to their sound, Mogwai continue to give a sense of predetermined improvisation to their melodies as if telling an instrumental story that, without fail, leads to an orgasmic musical climax of emotional power that feels joyous and elegiac at the same. 

Courtesy of TLOBF

The Heart is a Drum Machine (2010)

I'm a bit of a factual enthusiast. Throughout the course of university life, many (well-spent) hours were filled with knitting (yeah, I know) and exploring cyberspace for enlightenment through documentaries. I mean it when I say that I'm an encyclopaedia of useless information - useless in the sense that it will only come to benefit me if humanity faces a New World Order, or when (I stress when) aliens take over the world- THEN I can turn around and shout "TO THE BUNKERS", with a smug expression on my face and a complete advantage over the rest of you sceptics. 

Anyway, had I known of this documentary before I wrote my dissertation (which happened to be on alternative representations of gender in music), I would have probably written it in celebration of this spectacular film. It's incredibly fascinating, and I recommend it to anyone who feels as passionately as I do about the power of music and the emotional grasp it has on so many of us. 

Released in 2010 and directed by Christopher Pomerenke, The Heart is a Drum Machine asks the supposedly straight-forward question "What is music?", evidently establishing how complicated in fact, a direct answer to this really is. Why is it that music has such a profound effect on people? It is easy to break down music as an organized choreography of sounds and vibrations, but there's a fundamental enigma in the extent of the emotional complexity music demonstrates on all groups of individuals - ranging from all cultures and backgrounds, to artists, performers, listeners and those who can't hear anything at all.