Trollheart

Oh yeah, I only got into Gary's music through Ten! I love that band! Have all their albums, and though there are weak tracks on some there really isn't one I could point to and say I don't like that one, unlike Shadow Gallery. I have yet to listen to their new one, but am looking forward to doing so. I review "Babylon" much further on in the journal, and am desperately trying to educate people as to the brilliance of this band. So far, pretty unsuccessfully...
Although I have their greatest hits, and it's a great album, and I'm aware they have some really good stuff, I just find myself mostly bored by the Moodies, particularly I think when "To our children's children's children" comes up on the playlist. "Sur la mer" seems to be ok, and one or two others (thinking "Long distance voyager" and "Days of future passed") but for me it's too much effort to actively seek out the good among the mostly bad.
"EGBDF" came about, as you see I'm sure, from the "Spinning the wheel" section, which as you'll notice as you go on through my journal has been less than kind to me!

Now pity me, as I go headlong into the second part of my journey into the world of boyband music! Arrrrghh! Why do I do these things??

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Trollheart

Ah, ye're probably all rocked out after the second Devil's Ballroom, eh? Want to relax, take it easy. No? Well ok then, get your air guitars around this!

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Trollheart

I absolutely dare anyone --- male or female --- to claim they ever watched this video for the music! Yeah, yeah, I believe ya... Seriously, not even line dancing or the presence of Willie Nelson can un-sexify this video! And that's sayin' somethin'!

"These boots are made for walkin'" --- Jessica Simpson --- 7 out of 10 on Trollheart's “Way-hay!” scale, until about 2:00 when it goes up to 8, and then at 3:18 --- off the scale!

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Neapolitan

I watched it just for the music. I was going do a poll about what versions of These Boots Are Made For Walking is better, but I gave up because the idea seemed crazy there are at least two dozen versions of the song. It pretty nauseating hearing the same song over 20 times by different artist/bands. The song was written by Lee Hazelwood who worked with Duane Eddy.

Check out Nancy Sinatra (she's real eye candy) and for a Czech version -Yvonne Přenosilová (she cute too). The industrial band KMFDM (originally Kein Mehrheit Für Die Mitleid) does a decent take on the song. Fripp plays guitar on one and I think Lemmy does a version live.

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Trollheart

In my efforts to be more proactive in showcasing the music of my homeland, let me present to you reviews from two female stars of our shores, one well-known and established, the other just beginning to make a name for herself, here and elsewhere. Both have different styles, outlooks and indeed play different music, but in a way they're both linked by common themes.

The lion and the cobra --- Sinead O'Connor --- 1987 (Chrysalis)


It's easy to forget, amid all the controversy and headlines about Sinead O'Connor that she does actually produce good music. Well, in fairness, I've only listened to her debut, and that when it came out (I don't really count the big hit single as it was more her singing a Prince song, and anyway everyone knows it by heart now) but I do remember that was a great album, quite surprised by how good it was. My own personal interest in Sinead waned under the unrelenting news stories about her, the protests, the stands --- all of which are mostly laudable and understandable, but shouldn't come before the music --- and I began to see her, like many people did, for good or bad, as an opportunist, using her fame and her music to trumpet her causes, or her aversion to certain things.

Now of course, most of her tirades were more or less justified. I'm sure there were many in Ireland, if not other countries, who silently punched the air and said “YES!” when she tore up the photo of the pope, but there are ways to do these things, and Sinead began to come across as more of a politician than a musician. Chances are, had she run for president in the recent election, she would have done a whole lot better than another, far less controversial and more conservative singer who did run.

But the point remains that O'Connor seemed not to be able to separate her two worlds, of protest and music. Now, I know these two usually go together, but rather than write a protest song or dedicate one to a particular cause and then just go ahead, she seemed to lose interest or faith in the music and often rushed offstage, abandoned concerts and I firmly believe shortchanged fans who actually wanted to see her perform.

All of which leads us back to the album, her debut, which at the time was only really controversial, or interesting in any way due to the fact that she was bald. Her lyrics are also very outspoken, but then that's acceptable, as long as the feelings are kept where they belong, in the music. It's a very slippery slope to cross over from music to politics, and try to tell people what to think, or to ram your opinions down the throats of others. Music should not be used as a weapon, as a battering ram to hammer people into submission: it should help to change people's attitudes (if they need changing) by making them look inside, see what's wrong with the world or their lives, and allowing them to decide themselves if they are going to change.

But back to the music. The album opens on “Jackie”, a dark, moody rock ballad with a great growly guitar leading the charge, Sinead's voice angry and determined as she clings to the belief her lover will come back to her though everyone says he's gone for good. It's a short song, almost carried totally on the heavy guitar line and bass, no percussion to speak of, and Sinead's powerful voice. “Mandinka”, which was a single, is far more commercial. A rocky, uptempo track with a hint of Peter Gabriel and quite a little of Kate Bush in it too, it's pretty infectious, and a good vehicle for Sinead's voice, powerful and strong, passionate and focussed.

Things go back more or less to the dark and brooding beginnings of the album then with “Jerusalem”, a very The The-style rhythm and melody to it, with scratchy, funky guitar and tight bass, then the first ballad comes in the form of “Just like u said it would b”. Now, I'm not sure if her later association with Prince was responsible for this annoying fad of representing words by one or two letters, or if it has anything to do with the rise of texting, but I've never seen the point of it. It doesn't take much to add one or two letters to a word, so why take the shortcut? Anyway, that aside, there's a lovely string section forming the basis of this song, with nice acoustic guitar and Sinead this time in more introspective mode, more relaxed and restrained. There's a nice sort of swing-a-long, waltzy rhythm to the song, and as it goes on she gets a bit more animated, proving perhaps that it's hard for her to stay quiet or relaxed, on any subject. I would have preferred this not to have got so suddenly hard-edged, right near the end, but that's how it finishes up.

Fellow Irish songstress Enya makes a guest appearance in the opening, spoken words of “Never get old”, which then goes along on a basic almost acapella line, with Laurie Anderson-style vocal backing (more than likely on a synth, and indeed fairly reminsicent of some of Enya's own work), again bringing to mind some of the later work of Gabriel, particularly on the Real World stuff. Then, again, in the last minute of the song she kicks it into high gear, drums crashing in on top of heavy piano and the song takes on a new face, the ending mostly just improvised sounds as Sinead takes the song to its conclusion.

The standout of the album though has to be the brittle, moody, ethereal “Troy” --- which amazingly, given it's the longest track on the album at almost six and a half minutes, was a single! --- which is carried on a beautiful orchestral arrangement which does director Gavyn Wright proud. It starts low-key and soft but soon powers up into quite a monster, the violins in particular adding a real sense of growing menace as the drums get louder and faster, Sinead's voice rising in pitch and anger as the song progresses. It's a real showcase for her voice, and a really effective song.

A real artist, Sinead either writes or contributes to the writing of every track on this album, in addition to playing guitar, arranging, producing and mixing, and of course singing. “I want your (hands on me)” ramps up the tempo again, an almost dancey number with some great guitar riffs and some effective keyboard work. There's a certain sense of jungle rhythm about this song, and again I can't escape the references to Peter Gabriel, thinking in particular of “Kiss that frog”, though that album wouldn't be released for years after this one. Things slow right down again for “Drink before the war”, driven on a sonorous, solemn organ melody, with some nice pizzicato strings filling in a little later. Of the two ballads on the album I prefer this one, it just has more of an atmosphere about it.

There's a big guitar piece to finish with, something along the lines of the opener actually though a little heavier, lots of feedback (I think: I'm not a guitarist, but you know that effect that makes the guitar sound heavier and more solid than normal?), and in fact “Just call me Joe” is fairly balladic, both in its structure and in its melody, and the way Sinead sings. On this song it's almost hard to hear her over the guitar, though that's obviously how she wanted it: we know she can scream and roar with the best of them, and there are few if any instruments that can drown her out unless she wants not to be heard.

A very promising debut, I feel that “The lion and the cobra” should have led to greater things for Sinead O'Connor, and probably would have done so too, had her life not been then steered by controversy with the music largely a casualty and essentially forgotten, playing second fiddle to her political and religious beliefs. It's certainly telling that her next album, “I do not want what I haven't got”, which spawned her huge, multi-million, Prince-penned hit single “Nothing compares 2 U”, was her biggest selling album, released three years later, and then that in 1992, off the back of her rant at the pope and various views expressed in public --- and some would say, inappropriately --- her next album charted lower, particularly in the USA (No. 27 as opposed to the previous outing's position of no. 1), and that subsequent albums did less and less well, again especially in the US. People were obviously judging her music based on her increasingly angry tirades, which is unfortunate but understandable.

She has a new album out this year; what it's like I don't know but she's once again in the news with her on-again/off-again marriage, which, though apparently it lasted only seven days, may be back on again. Seems she just can't stay away from the controversy, our Sinead. Whether that has been her strength or her undoing is ultimately in the eye of the beholder.

One thing is certain though. This woman, who first declared herself lesbian, then went back on that, and is now not sure, and who was the only woman (to my limited knowledge) to be ordained a priest in Ireland, never was, never will be and probably never could be ordinary.

TRACKLISTING

1. Jackie
2. Mandinka
3. Jerusalem
4. Just like U said it would B
5. Never get old
6. Troy
7. I want your (hands on me)
8. Drink before the war
9. Just call me Joe

Sea sew --- Lisa Hannigan --- 2008 (Hoop)


Originally part of Damien Rice's band, Lisa Hannigan left to pursue her own solo career in 2008, leading to the release of her first solo album. It garnered almost unanimous critical acclaim, even reaching as far as the US of A. She released her second album last year, and in due course we may review that, but right now I'd like to concentrate on this one, her debut.

It opens with a lovely deep bassline, some tinkly piano and then some great guitar before Lisa's voice takes “Ocean and a rock”, with beautiful violin from Lucy Wilkins and some equally lovely cello from Vyvienne Long. Powerful yet measured drumming courtesy of Tom Osander drive the song along without overpowering it, but it's Lisa's lovely voice that really demands your attention. Soft yet strong, often intoned and gentle yet always audible and attractive, it's the voice of someone very comfortable with the music they make, the moreso now that the music is her own. She writes every track on the album, bar one cover version.

Strings play an important part in most tracks on the album, and are again in evidence on “Venn diagram” (remember your maths?), Lisa's voice a little stronger and to the fore on this folky tune, with little hints of Suzanne Vega as well as a certain sense of Nanci Griffith there. “Sea song” has echoes of early Tom Waits in it, a nice uptempo track, but things come right back down to earth for the whimsically-titled “Splishy splashy”, with gorgeous little acoustic guitar line and Lisa's haunting voice wending through the song like a wreath of sweet-smelling smoke.

“I don't know” is a fun little song, tripping along on a boppy melody with some skittering percussion and some happy, chirpy trumpet from Donagh Molloy. This would have made a nice little single, though it wasn't chosen. Violins coming in about halfway, but they don't take over the song, just add to it. “Keep it all” comes in on a pretty rocky beat, with --- would you believe --- a bassline that's actually right out of early Black Sabbath? It's this bassline that mostly drives the song, with some light violin and some pizzicatto strings, violin and cello then taking in the only cover on the album, Bert Jansch's “Courting blues”, a really nice arrangement giving the song new life.

Brought in on light, lilting piano then, “Pistachio” has very definite elements of Tori Amos in its melody and structure, Donagh Molloy's trumpet giving the song a little extra punch. The piano hook runs through the song, with the violins and cellos again getting in on the act, the most complete use of string instruments I've come across so far. Usually they're just used on one or two tracks, but on this album they really form the mainstay of the melodies. “Teeth” is a slow, luxurious, gentle ballad carried on the aforementioned violins, which start off lush and soft but become rather frenzied and sharp as the song goes along, the percussion also getting harder and more forceful.

The album closes, ironically perhaps, on the first (and only) single, “Lille”, gentle acoustic folk guitar backing a breathy laidback vocal from Lisa. A simple, straightforward song, it perhaps oversimplifies Lisa Hannigan's musical style, and although I would not have picked it as the single, it did very well for her and helped to raise her musical profile both here in Ireland and overseas, so I can't fault the decision. Still, I would have chosen something else, like maybe “I don't know” or “Pistachio”.

As a debut album this is quite stunning. It may not be everyone's cup of tea; mostly very laidback and light, a lot of folk influences and not much in the way of rock really, but a very impressive first effort, and I wonder how Lisa will have developed her talent on her second album. Will definitely have to review that at some point.

TRACKLISTING

1. Ocean and a rock
2. Venn diagram
3. Sea song
4. Splishy splashy
5. I don't know
6. Keep it all
7. Courting blues
8. Pistachio
9. Teeth
10. Lille

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Trollheart

Ah sure, let's have something from Blondie, shall we? No, NOT “Heart of glass”! You think the worm is that predictable? Pshaw!

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Trollheart

If I look back it appears that the last time we hit this section was at Christmas time, so that's almost two months ago now. Time for some more themed songs, methinks. What left to do? Well, we haven't done numbers yet, so let's try that.

Start off with one from Bon Jovi, this is “Next 100 years”.

How about the Proclaimers, with “500 miles”?

Or even the Pretenders, going further...

Then there's David Bowie, track from the classic album “Ziggy Stardust”, this is “Five years”.

And the late Gene Pitney was “24 hours from Tulsa” (wonder if he ever got there?)...

… while Paul Davis had a “'65 love affair”.

Can't forget Tom Waits, who had “Sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six”

or Youssou N'Dour with Neneh Cherry, and “Seven seconds”.

The crazily-named ? And the Mysterons had “96 tears” way back when

and of course Paul Simon had “Fifty ways to leave your lover” (though he fell far short of listing them all!).

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Trollheart

See, I think about weird stuff, and this idea has been swimmin' around in my brain for a few months now. I know it may sound like a bit of a downer, but in this year where we're reliably (if you can count on the word of a thousands-year-old civilisation, that is!) informed that the world will end, it occurred to me to wonder what would be the last thing I would want to hear before the end? If our planet bites the big one this year (or we do; why should the Earth pay the price for our greed and neglect?) then what would, theoretically, be the last song, piece of music, sound that I would like to hear?

I'm happy to open this up to anyone who wants to post their own idea, their own choices for what they would like to hear as their last sound on Earth, but it seems to me people are slow taking up offers of participation in my journal --- look at the glacier-like response to my call for people to interview for the upcoming (maybe) “Trollheart talks to...” section! But hey, that's ok: some people prefer just to read, and not take part, and I understand that. But if anyone wants to get involved, then this could become a regular, or at least recurring slot.

If it makes anyone feel easier or more comfortable about it, perhaps think about what music you'd like played at your funeral? How does that make it any less uncomfortable? I don't know: maybe envisaging your own death years/decades down the line instead of this year might lessen the sense of impending doom? Who knows? Anyway, it's mostly just for fun, if death can ever be said to be a subject of fun (you mean you haven't read Terry Pratchett?), and to perhaps tie down and recognise that song or piece of music that means more to you than maybe you realised.

Oh, one rule, to be rigidly enforced: only ONE song, piece of music, concerto, theme, sound allowed. But within that, it doesn't HAVE to be music. Could be the sound of your baby/loved one/pet, could be birdsong, could be, I don't know, the roar of a Lambourgini. Hey, what do I know about what matters to you? Which is why I would like to know.

In any event, here's mine. If anyone decides to take part, do be aware I hope/expect you to explain your choice; what the music/sound means to you, why you would like it to be the last sound you hear (unless it's at your funeral, in which case the last sound that, I guess, defines you or reminds people of you) and so on.

Who wants to live forever? --- Queen --- 1986

Do I need to explain this? Well, I will anyway. No, I'm not the biggest Queen fan, though I do like their music. My sister is a far bigger fan. But something about this song just speaks to me. It has everything: the pathos, the urgent, striving, desperation of trying to stay with your loved one but knowing you must leave them, the quiet acceptance at the end as everything drifts away into eternity. Written of course by Brian May for the movie “Highlander”, it concerns Conor MacLeod's inability to die, but having to see those he loves dies. But that's a movie, and placed in a wider context it's a story we all face, of knowing that the Grim Reaper is only ever a step behind us, that we can go anytime, and that, in the end, none of us lives forever.

The opening organ arpeggio sets the scene, then the late Freddie Mercury's clear and powerful but understated voice comes through. One verse in, Roger Taylor's muted, echoey drums punch out a very effective counterpoint, then the orchestra swells behind Freddie as his voice rises in power and passion until it crashes down almost to nothing. Brian May's guitar comes in as Roger's drums get more powerful and insistent, and Freddie comes back in with a strong and emotional vocal, then Brian cuts loose on the guitar and the orchestra powers back in, the level of emotion and tragedy in the song reaching a crescendo in one of those trademark Queen multi-vocals, the signature May guitar sound, then everything fades away again to just organ and echoey drums, a little guitar, then the guitar and organ swell again as the song rises once more, instrumentally, then slowly fades away again, leaving only Roger's muted drums to take the song almost to its conclusion, before a final glissando on the organ sets the seal on a true classic.

Not only is the music perfect, but the sentiment expressed within the lyric is also the best I could ever come across were I to search for a soundtrack, as it were, to my death. Sure, I wouldn't be alive to hear it, but how powerful and majestic it would sound, blaring out of the church's speakers, to the three or four people who might turn up to see me off into the Great Unknown. Or, if the Mayans were right (bloody Mayans!), then this would most certainly be the last sound I would want to hear before the end.

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