Mirah @ The Red Rattler, Thursday October 1

Mirah, Shiver Like Timber, The Smallgoods

‘Was, was that a plane?’ asks Betony Dircks, AKA Shiver Like Timber, in the mildly timorous tones of one who’s not as yet quite comfortable stage-side. The rumbles of the flightpath overhead provide permanent competition with tonight’s performers; The Red Rattler has the most appropriate name of any venue in Sydney. Under such circumstances, Dircks’ slight hesitance is unfortunate – her carefully picked guitar lines and striking lyrics (‘Arctic Esplanade’) are delivered in permanently breathless vocals, only building up a real sense of conviction when fed through some enticing loops.

No such difficulties for Melbournites The Smallgoods, the hirsute trio filling up the warmly lit, milk crate-strewn space, with their simply fashioned, richly harmonised old school pop. Songs such as ‘Traipse Through The Valley’ are suggestive of ploughman’s lunches and smoking mugwort, harmonies reminiscent of The Byrds or (lord help us) Simon & Garfunkel enveloping a rapt audience with a sense of ruminative stasis.  Particularly entrancing was ‘City Full Of Sky’, a captivating chord sequence washing away the occasional twee lyric.

Aeroplanes were the cause of more amusing difficulties for an extremely jetlagged Mirah Yom Tov Zeitlyn (observed pre-show enjoying a sack-of-potatoes style cat-nap back stage), who repeatedly, and with effortless charm, forgot the lyrics to her own songs – calling on an extremely well-informed audience for prompts. Although Mirah has now been recording for well over ten years, this gig marks her first Australian visit, numerous requests for older material being cheerfully deflected with a variety of creative excuses.

Her back catalogue was nonetheless widely traversed, more recent material from (a)spera being mixed with much-loved songs like ‘Cold, Cold Water’ or crowd-favourite ‘The Garden’. Her firm and sassy vocals were overwhelming, even with the low thunder provided courtesy of Qantas. A left-field cover of ‘Changes’ rounded out a buoyant night; with luck, she’ll return soon.


First published in The Brag, Iss. 387, November 8th 2010

Ólöf Arnalds - Innundir Skinni

Ólöf Arnalds
Innundir Skinni [Within Skin]

***

There’s a pretty amusing interview with Ms Arnalds (singer, recent mother and ex-Múm member) in this month’s issue of UK street rag The Stool Pigeon, in which she immediately declares her personal life to be off limits – despite the fact that many of the songs on her second album, Innundir Skinni, deal with the deeply personal matter of her father dying. Not that you can tell what she’s singing about most of the time without recourse to the lyric sheet, as most songs here are rendered in her native Icelandic. Indeed, even those few songs which are sung in English are nigh on incomprehensible thanks to her sweetly lilting accent and Joanna Newsom-esque delivery.

There are some lovely moments here regardless. ‘Svif Birki (Tree Love)’ for example, which mixes her creamy enunciation of the Icelandic tongue with an understated acoustic guitar, prismatic vocal harmonisations occasionally rippling through the simple texture. Cloister something like ‘The Sprout And The Bean’ off Milk-Eyed Mender away within a smoke-filled hut while an ash-strewn winter rages outside, and you’ll be close.

Most songs here feature spare acoustic backings that provide a gently swimming complement to Arnalds gentle voice. It’s a delicate balance, the backing vocals provided by an under-utilised Björk on ‘Surrender’ – not quite avoiding the obvious risk of overwhelming Arnalds with her turbo-charged lungs.

An undoubtedly attractive listen, Arnalds ultimately comes off a touch precious – her seriousness is unleavened by any sense of play or release, providing little counter to the weight of her emotions.


First published in The Brag, Iss. 383, October 11th 2010

El Guincho - Pop Negro

El Guincho
Pop Negro

****

Since the release of his jubilant second album Alegranza! back in 2008, Barcelona-based synth’n’sample artist El Guincho (AKA Pablo Díaz-Reixa) has developed a reputation for producing breezy, sun drenched pop mélanges. He blends dozens of influences from the spectrum of Latin American music, fused with psychedelic indie. Atlas Sound (the solo project of Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox) or even Ariel Pink are relevant touchstones, in that all mine the back catalogue of their choice, reconstructing cherry-picked vintage sounds in utterly original ways.

Often citing the folk songs taught to him by his Canary Islander grandmother as a formative inspiration, El Guincho laid some of these influences bare on his recent Piratas de Sudamerica EP – a collection of early 20th century Latin American pop and folk covers rendered in an effects-laden creole. But Pop Negro is a different animal altogether. Tropicalia, afrobeat and dub are blended with production techniques directly borrowed from 80s and 90s dance – specifically, the work of chaps like Rhett Davies (Bryan Ferry, Luther Vandross) and Babyface (Michael Jackson, Mariah Carey).

To a certain extent, Díaz-Reixa is doing for ‘the golden era of recordings’ what Ariel Pink has done with 80s radio schlock, utilising the expansive sound and gleaming finish of the pop of the last few decades in the pursuit of some heretofore un-thought-of hybrid which critiques as it celebrates. That said, it doesn’t pay to intellectualise this album too much.


Above all, Pop Negro provides a half hour of effortlessly expansive pop ecstasy, guaranteed to get any party started.


First published in The Brag, Iss. 382, October 4th 2010