I'm Feelin' Smothered By This Music Industry; I Need A Breather

Long Blondes, "I'm Coping" - At some point last summer, probably somewhere around the time Someone To Drive You Home suddenly began to present itself as a looming reality rather than a long-promised pipe dream (DELIA AND GAVIN, I'M LOOKING AT YOU), I suddenly realized that, unlike %99.99999bar of the music I listen to, the Long Blondes were actually triggering feelings of identification in me. I'm a big believer in the idea of not identifying with music just for the sake of the accompanying endorphin rush which goes hand-in-hand with hearing yourself in someone else's art, partially because I've made some incredibly shameful choices with regards to which music I use as a platform for self-definition in the past and partially because most music that I've noticed people finding themselves in tends to be unaccountably godawful shit. But that doesn't mean it doesn't happen sometimes or that I don't appreciate it when it does, because both of those things are still happening with Someone To Drive You Home, even now that it's months after the fact.

I've been over this before, of course, but indulge me: the crucial element of the Long Blondes' appeal - or at least their appeal to me, which is all I expect any band in the world to care about ever - lies in the intoxicating dynamic between the fact that Kate Jackson has (1) the exact same archly dissociative manner of analyzing personal romantic responsibility that I do and (2) a vagina. Even when the themes of their songs have absolutely nothing to do with my own sexual or interpersonal politics - and given the fact that the Blondes tend to sing about wanting/getting/losing/missing/enduring/dismissing guys, this comes up a bunch - I find the prospect of hearing Jackson elucidate them irrevocably attractive; by this point I can barely listen to "You Could Have Both" without slipping away into a fantasy where our hands meet while reaching for the same copy of a Buzzcocks 7". It helps, of course, that as far as I can tell, Jackson seems to have been spiritually buttfucked by the universe in what seems to be the same way as me; the fact that the strangling longings that motivate her songs happen to be for dudes doesn't mean I'm not well acquainted with the sensation of fingers around the throat she's describing, and it certainly doesn't mean I'm oblivious to the supernaturally articulate manner in which she describes them. It's just an absurdly heady combination, the kind of artistic situation where you can only hope to be forgiven for getting carried away. (Er, Q.E.D.)

But when the Long Blondes sit down with Erol Alkan, producer of nine b-sides in total for the band as of the recent release of the "Giddy Stratospheres" single, something else happens: the Long Blondes scare the everliving shit out of me. As evidenced by the fact that I'm posting yet another one of those b-sides today, of course, they don't scare me away; I'm still just as attracted to the product they're presenting for sale, except the sensation is more like drifting inexorably towards a black hole rather than running towards a triumphant embrace. I don't know if it's due to the antiseptic cleanliness Alkan brings to the sound of the Blondes' music or the high relief in which his relentlessly bloodless production aesthetic casts Jackson's disaffection or what, but every time Erol and the Blondes hook up, the tone of the whole musical project takes one sharp-ass no-turn-signalling left into uncharted territory. All of a sudden, the appeal of their songs isn't their oblique way of getting at their themes; it's the unflinching bluntness with which they address them right at the listener. Even comparing two songs as similar as "Fulwood Babylon" (the now-legendary b-side to "Weekend Without Makeup") and "You Could Have Both - two songs dominated by their spoken-word breakdowns consisting in large part of details specific enough to be worthy of inclusion in a Bret Easton Ellis novel - it's hard not to notice the difference; where the album track is dialogue and explanation, "Fulwood Babylon" is all clear-cut orders and begrudging conditions for access, never even hinting at any prospect of satisfaction for the object of Jackson's domination.

And that, God help me, is why I'm starting to think that these songs may be the seat of the most profound identification the Long Blondes have to offer me. In the ecstatic throes that come with discovering music with which you identify, it's easy to overlook the truly staggering capacity of the human race for cynical manipulation; for all I know Kate Jackson couldn't possibly give less of a fuck about Scott Walker or Edie Sedgewick and just picked their names due to how they sounded sung out loud. No, the true test comes when the music identifies you, speculates about what motivates you, conceives of you as an inert sounding-board for its own purposes - in other words, does to you what you would ordinarily do to it. Hell, it doesn't even necessarily need to do anything you'd particularly care to have done to you in order to validate itself as effective; sometimes it's even more effective if it does stuff that actively repels you. "I'm Coping", my hands-down favorite Alkan track from the "Giddy Stratospheres" release, basically functions by unapologetically stringing the listener along for two and a half minutes before unmistakably demanding to be left alone; if this demand weren't delivered in the most explosively invigorating manner available to the band at the moment, I'd call the song a flawless metaphor for the way girls spent my entire adolescence treating me, and lord knows I'd rather fuck a bag full of light bulbs than go back to that shit again (more on this next Wednesday). Then again, considering the baggage with which I burden the Blondes' "proper" songs, maybe it's good to remember turnabout is always fair play. (Click here to buy all three formats of the "Giddy Stratospheres" single from Recordstore.co.uk)

Sky Larkin, "One Of Two" - Speaking of the Long Blondes, it's also worth pointing out that they managed to become a category in my mind unto themselves more quickly than just about anyone in recent memory; Sky Larkin's wise decision to mention them as fellow-travelers in their press release got me adding the "One Of Two" single to my shopping cart even quicker than the words "sky-blue vinyl" or "limited edition", and I shamelessly admit my record-store gimmick-whoredom. They're nowhere near that good, of course; admittedly they're just getting started, but given Sky Larkin's apparent allergy to pinpoint lyrical specificity, the comparison just rings hollow. Of course, if we're just talking about the music - and as should always be pointed out when one spends eighty squillion words rhapsodizing over the Long Blondes' lyrics, only a for real dumbass wouldn't want to talk about the Long Blondes' music - then the gap narrows considerably; "One Of Two" is a hurricane of jagged time signatures and snarlingly telegraphed guitar lines capped off with a senses-searingly simple chorus wherein vocalist Katie Harkin taps into some primeval well of viciousness simply by letting the words "One of two" circle around each other. It's quite possible that you won't encounter a song which snaps itself to attention half as effectively all year, especially when you take into account how overtly focused on charging full speed ahead the song is to begin with. The fun, I suppose, is in the search.

IDC, "Stomp" - Speaking of searching: STOP LOOKING FOR THE BIG-ROOM ELECTRO MONSTER OF THE YEAR. JUST STOP. If this, the latest release from former mashup artist extraordinaire IDC, doesn't get people running in from other houses to lose their shit on whatever dancefloor you happen to be moderating, you might want to consider new friends; this shit is an untameable beast along the same lines as "Rocker" or "Zdarlight", the kind of savage techno beating whose fists seemingly have the potential to connect with even the rockiest Luddite foreheads. Some of the people I know in real life will probably give me shit for this being "boring" or "not doing anything"; this is because these people are idiots whose congenital allergies to fun are preventing them from appreciating the virtues of a song which presents you with two options: (1) dance like a retarded person or (2) fuck off. Given that door #1 is an unfettered riot even when it's entered into by sitting in front of a computer in an otherwise-empty apartment, the smart money's on that one. (Click here to buy the "Stomp" 12" directly from Corsair Music, the label)

The Procession, "Don't Hesitate" - And finally, we come to what was originally to be the raison d'etre behind this entire post: the magnificent b-side to The Procession's debut single which, as far as I'm concerned, announces them as one of the preeminent American bands working in indie-pop today. "Don't Hesitate" is a remarkably accomplished little achievement both in terms of conception (i.e. it ain't easy to write a song so clearly intended to evoke the Beatles' psychedelic phase without making any overt references to any actual psychedelic Beatles songs) and execution (i.e. it ain't easy to harmonize like that for damn sure); I'm kicking myself for passing up the chance to see them for eight bucks before the foul and detestable KCRW tote-baggers (presumably) got ahold of them simply because I can't fathom them pulling this off once on the record, let alone in a live context. Luckily for me they're a LA-based band (for now), so I'll have plenty of chances to rectify my misjudgement in the near future. I strongly urge you to download the everliving bejesus out of this song right now and make plans to do the same at the nearest convenience; I'd say more if it weren't for fear that I'd spoil the surprise of just how good these guys are at all this music stuff. I literally had no idea America was still capable of this kind of music, and as usual I'm thrilled beyond belief to be an idiot. (Click here to buy the "Don't Let Go"/"Don't Hesitate" double-A-side 7" from Recordstore.co.uk)

ELSEWHERE

- Those of you with (a) sense and (b) a fuckload of time to kill really, really, really need to go check out Good Weather For Airstrikes' Top 50 Tracks Of 2006 project, quite possibly the most exhaustively-compiled thing I've ever seen anyone undertake on this unpaid corner of a corner of the internet we reluctantly call the MP3 blogosphere. And please be assured that I say that with more than a little jealous envy in my voice. I mean damn. Between this and Marathon Packs' year-end top 19 list, the rest of us really should have just given up, although judging by recent productivity I seem to be the only one to have gotten the memo.