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
Monday, October 11, 2010
Monday, October 4, 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
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
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Colour and Light - kyü
If they were characters in a sprawling nineteenth century novel, Alyx Dennison and Freya Berkhout might be described as ‘ardent spirits’. As kyü, the electronic pop project that brought them together, the pair impart a sense of limitless expansion; they’re brave enough to allow themselves to be led musically by a shared sense of epiphany, following their instincts towards a point of revelation in a way that is endearingly vulnerable, completely genuine and utterly captivating.
When they aren’t doing that, they do things like bake brownies, listen to the Spice Girls and watch Doctor Who. Alyx does convincing impersonations, and also likes to paint. Freya speaks Hindi and aspires to make film soundtracks. Both would like to travel more; both are buoyant, bright-faced, smiley-eyed and completely disarming to talk to. And then of course there’s the small fact that they’ve created one of the most exciting sounds to come out of Sydney in a very long time.
kyü came together at the beginning of 2009 as a swift consequence of the duo’s newly-fledged friendship. Alyx needed someone with a student card to enter the Sydney University band comp, and Freya volunteered. Although their initial attempt at rehearsal was “pretty awful”, a second try produced their now-signature song, ‘Sunny in Splodges’, in just a couple of hours. Realising that they didn’t have enough material, and with the band comp imminent, they wrote almost all of the material that makes up their self-titled and full-length debut release in a single creative burst, the week before the first heat. Legend has it they reduced a judge to tears the night they won the grand final.
“We never consciously made a decision to be that band” says Alyx. “We never thought ‘oh let’s be experimental’ or ‘tribal’ – all those phrases really weird us out … It really kind of evolved naturally, it was all stuff that was lying around the studio as well.” She says that the week before the band comp they felt as though they were waiting for something to start: “We refer to that period of our life as limbo.”
Plural personal pronouns are par for the course for kyü, both girls picking up each other’s sentences, filling out the other’s thoughts and chasing each other down inviting tangential trails – so that it often becomes difficult to determine who said what. The impression of a single mind at work is at times uncanny, each being the perfect foil for the other. And they don’t disagree. “We are one brain when we’re writing,” says Alyx, “it’s a strange experience.” “It’s weird though,” adds Freya, “they’re not the same – they’re so different that they just fit together.”
Although Freya has had the benefit of formal vocal training, Alyx is essentially self-taught. Each arrived at similar musical conclusions by circuitous routes of their own. Both have a solid grounding in the Western classical canon – Alyx admits to an (as yet) unrequited love for Beethoven, while Freya thinks that Mahler’s 5th Symphony has “the most amazing chord progression in the history of the world”. But they also draw inspiration from sources as diverse as Indian classical music and the soundtrack to Akira, while being rabid fans of bands like Animal Collective and Grizzly Bear.
Not that the kyü sound can be reduced to a catalogue of influences; their lush mix of electronics, synths, glockenspiel, drums and strong, startling vocals produce an almost primal alchemy. But both are quick to dismiss any accusations of derivation on the one hand, or originality on the other. “People say we’re like Björk or Fever Ray” comments Alyx, “not because we are, but because we’re girls who’re belting… We do stuff with our voices that isn’t particularly dignified or pretty – we use our voices instrumentally,” she explains, before Freya continues: “I don’t think our music is hard to listen to. Some of it isn’t middle of the road, but it’s not ‘pushing boundaries’. If we’re experimental it’s because of the way we sing – but it’s not like no one’s done it before.”
Either way, an air of timelessness pervades the kyü LP. Dan Johnston (of local folk rockers Big Smoky) drew on his filmic sound design background to lend the recording an almost cinematic sense of space. Suggesting a shifting series of emotional states rather than any conscious narrative, the music nonetheless follows a definite arc, moving from the midnight awakening of ‘Sistar’ through to the ecstatic dissolution of ego in ‘Sunny In Splodges’.
“We spent a lot of time designing the track listing,” says Freya. “I hate the word ‘journey’, but there’s a progression … It is projections from the same time. It’s all a response to the same thing in our life.” Which was? “When we met each other, a new life really did start for us,” she explains. “We were meeting new people, and just kind of finding the ropes with them and ‘our sound’ … [It was] the most amazing, crazy time.” ‘New people’ here is a euphemism for the fellas from local group Megastick Fanfare, who provided the catalyst that kyü bonded over. “They’re the reason why we started. We just decided to go to every show. We wouldn’t be making the music we’re making if we didn’t have them in our lives.”
While a Megastick collaboration is still up in the air, the girls have been open to allowing other musical cross-pollinations to occur – a stint as the guests of Parades lead to friendship and mutual remixes with Jonathan Boulet (“I don’t think anything anywhere will ever be as good” says Freya of his kyü remix, “it’s going to blow everyone’s minds”), both drawing inspiration from the local music scene. “Sydney music is amazing” declares Alyx, “the world’ll catch on soon.”
Since their victory at Manning, kyü have had a crash course in performing, refining their act and building confidence while supporting local lights, as well as opening for an increasingly high profile series of touring groups including Why?, Yeasayer and High Places. “I would like people to love it or hate it, because I don’t want anyone to feel middle of the road.” says Freya. “And I think so far we’ve had pretty good evidence of that. There are people who love us and there’s people who detest us – and we just want to send out love to those guys. We love you guys!”
With things off to a sparkling start, for kyü the future seems alight with possibility. So, what’s next? “I think things will be happier, brighter maybe,” muses Freya. “We’ve been through a lot since we met, and have evolved a lot as people and evolved a lot as musicians and songwriters. We wrote a song recently which is really different. Vocally it’ll be a bit more weird.”
“Stimulation is to be had before we do any more writing” adds Alyx. “We’ve written about everything around us, about the things that we love and the people we love and the things that we’re doing – and now we need to move on and do other things.”
First published in The Brag (Cover Feature), Iss. 381, September 27th 2010
When they aren’t doing that, they do things like bake brownies, listen to the Spice Girls and watch Doctor Who. Alyx does convincing impersonations, and also likes to paint. Freya speaks Hindi and aspires to make film soundtracks. Both would like to travel more; both are buoyant, bright-faced, smiley-eyed and completely disarming to talk to. And then of course there’s the small fact that they’ve created one of the most exciting sounds to come out of Sydney in a very long time.
kyü came together at the beginning of 2009 as a swift consequence of the duo’s newly-fledged friendship. Alyx needed someone with a student card to enter the Sydney University band comp, and Freya volunteered. Although their initial attempt at rehearsal was “pretty awful”, a second try produced their now-signature song, ‘Sunny in Splodges’, in just a couple of hours. Realising that they didn’t have enough material, and with the band comp imminent, they wrote almost all of the material that makes up their self-titled and full-length debut release in a single creative burst, the week before the first heat. Legend has it they reduced a judge to tears the night they won the grand final.
“We never consciously made a decision to be that band” says Alyx. “We never thought ‘oh let’s be experimental’ or ‘tribal’ – all those phrases really weird us out … It really kind of evolved naturally, it was all stuff that was lying around the studio as well.” She says that the week before the band comp they felt as though they were waiting for something to start: “We refer to that period of our life as limbo.”
Plural personal pronouns are par for the course for kyü, both girls picking up each other’s sentences, filling out the other’s thoughts and chasing each other down inviting tangential trails – so that it often becomes difficult to determine who said what. The impression of a single mind at work is at times uncanny, each being the perfect foil for the other. And they don’t disagree. “We are one brain when we’re writing,” says Alyx, “it’s a strange experience.” “It’s weird though,” adds Freya, “they’re not the same – they’re so different that they just fit together.”
Although Freya has had the benefit of formal vocal training, Alyx is essentially self-taught. Each arrived at similar musical conclusions by circuitous routes of their own. Both have a solid grounding in the Western classical canon – Alyx admits to an (as yet) unrequited love for Beethoven, while Freya thinks that Mahler’s 5th Symphony has “the most amazing chord progression in the history of the world”. But they also draw inspiration from sources as diverse as Indian classical music and the soundtrack to Akira, while being rabid fans of bands like Animal Collective and Grizzly Bear.
Not that the kyü sound can be reduced to a catalogue of influences; their lush mix of electronics, synths, glockenspiel, drums and strong, startling vocals produce an almost primal alchemy. But both are quick to dismiss any accusations of derivation on the one hand, or originality on the other. “People say we’re like Björk or Fever Ray” comments Alyx, “not because we are, but because we’re girls who’re belting… We do stuff with our voices that isn’t particularly dignified or pretty – we use our voices instrumentally,” she explains, before Freya continues: “I don’t think our music is hard to listen to. Some of it isn’t middle of the road, but it’s not ‘pushing boundaries’. If we’re experimental it’s because of the way we sing – but it’s not like no one’s done it before.”
Either way, an air of timelessness pervades the kyü LP. Dan Johnston (of local folk rockers Big Smoky) drew on his filmic sound design background to lend the recording an almost cinematic sense of space. Suggesting a shifting series of emotional states rather than any conscious narrative, the music nonetheless follows a definite arc, moving from the midnight awakening of ‘Sistar’ through to the ecstatic dissolution of ego in ‘Sunny In Splodges’.
“We spent a lot of time designing the track listing,” says Freya. “I hate the word ‘journey’, but there’s a progression … It is projections from the same time. It’s all a response to the same thing in our life.” Which was? “When we met each other, a new life really did start for us,” she explains. “We were meeting new people, and just kind of finding the ropes with them and ‘our sound’ … [It was] the most amazing, crazy time.” ‘New people’ here is a euphemism for the fellas from local group Megastick Fanfare, who provided the catalyst that kyü bonded over. “They’re the reason why we started. We just decided to go to every show. We wouldn’t be making the music we’re making if we didn’t have them in our lives.”
While a Megastick collaboration is still up in the air, the girls have been open to allowing other musical cross-pollinations to occur – a stint as the guests of Parades lead to friendship and mutual remixes with Jonathan Boulet (“I don’t think anything anywhere will ever be as good” says Freya of his kyü remix, “it’s going to blow everyone’s minds”), both drawing inspiration from the local music scene. “Sydney music is amazing” declares Alyx, “the world’ll catch on soon.”
Since their victory at Manning, kyü have had a crash course in performing, refining their act and building confidence while supporting local lights, as well as opening for an increasingly high profile series of touring groups including Why?, Yeasayer and High Places. “I would like people to love it or hate it, because I don’t want anyone to feel middle of the road.” says Freya. “And I think so far we’ve had pretty good evidence of that. There are people who love us and there’s people who detest us – and we just want to send out love to those guys. We love you guys!”
With things off to a sparkling start, for kyü the future seems alight with possibility. So, what’s next? “I think things will be happier, brighter maybe,” muses Freya. “We’ve been through a lot since we met, and have evolved a lot as people and evolved a lot as musicians and songwriters. We wrote a song recently which is really different. Vocally it’ll be a bit more weird.”
“Stimulation is to be had before we do any more writing” adds Alyx. “We’ve written about everything around us, about the things that we love and the people we love and the things that we’re doing – and now we need to move on and do other things.”
First published in The Brag (Cover Feature), Iss. 381, September 27th 2010
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