Maximo Park - A Certain Trigger
2005 was the year my favourite bands became more than a passing hobby, the year I slaved away at a double life reading my books in the daytime and drinking 70p spirit and mixers at dusk, the year I’d learn about new things through the anachronistic MySpace-trail and the year I became obsessed with Maxïmo Park. … Continue Reading
Maxïmo Park - 12
Warp Records‘ premier guitar band Maxïmo Park have announced the release of a new remix EP on 12″, called ‘Twelve’. And this is exactly why we love them…
“It’s a classic format and we wanted to do something more ‘dance’ because Quicken The Heart is not only sparkling pop, but I find it promotes a wiggle of the backside and a brisk tap of the foot,” says singer of the Teesside favourites Paul Smith.
“Apart from the ‘I Want You To Stay’ b-sides, we’ve avoided remixes largely because we wanted to define ourselves outside of our famous label. We approached some artists we respect and put out the call for remixes. ‘Let’s Get Clinical’ proved popular with Clark (his remix is mental!), Tom Middleton (ultra-danceable!) and Hijacker (subtly addictive!), whereas dubstep pioneer Martyn fancied a crack at ‘A Cloud Of Mystery’ with intoxicating results. My vocal gets chopped up and completely mullered in versions that will hopefully appeal to new people as well as those of you with a toe in techno waters.”
More mixes will be available on download, such as ‘dub’ and ‘1989′ versions by Tom Middleton. No, we don’t know what that means either.
“It comes in a nice fluoro-green sleeve and we’re gonna bring a few with us on tour tonight,” said Mr. Smith on Wednesday October 7, 2009. “They’re currently in transit and those going to the October shows in UK and Germany will have a first chance to hear this collection of beats and bleeps.”
Oh and another piece of news: they’ve covered Vincent Gallo’s ‘When’, and that will be available on Warp Records’ 20th anniversary box set, Warp20.
Now run off and have a nice cup of tea…
Maximo Park - Questing Not Coasting
The title of this latest release from Newcastle indie heroes Maximo Park is a fitting analogy for how their career has stalled.
But coasting they are. ‘Questing, Not Coasting’ contains none of the burning energy and pent-up sexual desire of early Park singles, with Paul Smith’s typically enthusiastic vocal failing to excite or intrigue.
The lyrics do not help; “Hey you/I know your face/Hey you/Let’s go some place” is probably a fair shout for the dullest lyric Smith has ever written. At least back when all Maximo Park songs were about girls and the chasing thereof, it was a subject most people could relate to. This doesn’t seem to be about anything at all.
Neither are there any discernible changes of pace or tone, making it a banal and bland affair. It’s not the single to capitalise on the band’s triumphant show opening up at Glastonbury, that’s for sure. … Continue Reading
East 17
25 June, 2009
Knowing that I’m never going to be arriving in time for Maxïmo Park opening the festival, I start off at The Queen’s Head for Alessi’s Ark. When I dragged friends to her show at the Camden Crawl, they swiftly complained of “more bloody folk music” and disappeared off to eat a burger, leaving me apologising for the noise they had made. This time however they are sticking around longer than a minute and her short set is winning over a couple of people who were waiting in line for cheeseburgers that day. They’re impressed with the unexpected power of her full band on tracks like ‘Glendora’, and as much as I love the gentler moments like The Horse I agree with them.
Having already been there once only to be told they’d be on at half ten instead, we head up to the Dance Lounge for East 17. Even without Tony Mortimer, they are decidedly poor. They had people wanting to hear their biggest hits and like any band would they left ‘Stay Another Day’, ‘Alright’ and ‘If You Ever’ (I’d forgotten that this song isn’t all that bad) to the end. They’ve had a dozen top 10s to choose from yet they still plumped for songs so obscure that even those equipped with banners shrugged. Bizarre call-and-response and wisdom on the BNP gives the whole thing an air of a student’s union gig, frankly. The only really memorable thing about the set is that the story about Michael Jackson’s death birthed itself as an SMS and Twitter rumour, and by the time we get halfway back to our tents, it’s been confirmed. … Continue Reading
The Brain
The difficulty is that the any conception of Good necessarily contains a subjectiveness; even the open-eared draw the line somewhere. Although by some sort of standards drawn perhaps out of thin air, it must somehow be possible to dismiss some conceptions of Good as having no valid justification.
For me, goodness contains and requires so much (though of course not finitely, for that would be going too far in the way of the objective and crossing the line towards the overly-forumlaic): lyrics, texture, structure, elucidation, instrumentation, melody, harmony, performance, narrative – perhaps even being memorable. But if one or more of these elements is absent, it does not mean to say that the failure to tick a box necessarily leads to failure of the non-test. It is moreover the fact of reference to some justificatory criteria -as opposed to none at all – which I find persuasive in accepting other peoples’ tastes. And this is where the crux lies.
Without even an attempt at subjective reasoning, I fail to objectively (subjectively objectively?) see how a person’s taste can withhold even their own psyche. Given, not everything needs a reason, but here I feel that music is something which stands weaker alone than with benefit of being backed up with an interpretation of some sort, something which is linked. Although is “linked” not subjective? There are many hurdles.
One crucial anomaly is as per ‘fans’ of music that I deem as having no objective good; I see no possibility for objective good in music performed without feeling. Feeling, accepted, is on my interpretation, but I think it unmistakeable that there is an objective level of feeling forming a dichotomy with automatism (not acquiescence). I suppose I could be seen as a hypocrite for having listened to ‘pop’, performed by artists other than the songwriters, but then again I see no harm in separating my musical experiences into different whys, wheres, whos and hows. And what for a band whose drummer writes the lyrics?
Forget that, let’s go one step further: I can appreciate Girls Aloud on a completely different level to how I appreciate Life Without Buildings. The same applies to any attempted distinction between Cat Power and Madonna. So I’ve ended up switching the focus from my interpretation of music, to my interpretation of the performer, somewhere I didn’t really foresee the argument going. In returning back to the question of whether there is some objective level of musical good, there’s surely another strand that’s been left out – I don’t feel that on a mere couple of listens to a track that music can be fully appreciated.
Is this objective? Well, the casual listener’s argument of subjective good can, in my mind, be superceded by that of the listener who has seen the artist live, listened to the songs repeatedly, built up their back catalogue, listened carefully to the lyrics (these are all just examples of what comes to mind when recalling my connection with my favourite artists) and referring back to a previous point, a consumer (if that’s the most appropriate moniker) has an objectively better case to argue for an artist whom they’ve partaken in these activities with (albeit the passive ‘with’). But is that fair? Whose fault is it that person’s favourite band are an Icelandic hip-hop collective they’ve no hope in hell of ever seeing live, let alone listened to interviews with. This is highly contentious as well, but I reckon that y’s appreciation based on the one single they’ve heard on the radio can’t objectively be as convincing a case as z’s, who’s actually bothered to read about the band, listen to more, and generally be more pro-active. There are two further qualifications though:
1. How much can you ever find out about an artist without knowing them personally? Or further, without actually being them?
2. Who’s to say that such self-important attitudes regarding music appreciation and the utilitarian desire to spread the word are the way forward? Well, certainly me but that’s not everything.
Aside from the aside, to say that this is all just opinion would be weak at this point but to an extent I must return to that perspective because with the plethora of ‘good’ music available these days, it is not possible for every ‘valid’ fan to listen to it all. But I still hold that there lies an impermeable membrane between the objectively good and the subjectively good although I’m ever unsure why. How can anyone argue the case for Mika over Kate Bush? Green Day over Funkadelic? Wagner over Debussy? Why do I feel like I’m being more controversial when I bring to mind the last comparison? Is it any less dichotomous to anyone other than myself? Maybe the whole thing’s just a defence mechanism kicking in instead of accepting the reality that humanity is gullible, disappointing and surprising in equal measures.
So it’s not the use of my particular criteria which I feel distinguish the credible from the not-so- (for lack of a better turn of phrase), but instead merely the reference to criteria as opposed to none at all. This is true for any argument – a means of persuasion has greater strength by reference to commonly held principles than one based on mere instinct. I realise I may be contradicting myself in part, but I think that’s because of the amount of time I’ve spent thinking about this – and it’s undoubtedly positive for me to be questioning my own perceptions. I think I think that subjectiveness is always the default, but for me the problem with this is that it deems all music reviews of little worth.
Perhaps this is the case though? Regardless, I tend to return to “the criteria” when listening to music I deem ‘not good’ – I reason in my own mind why it lacks the qualities that my favourite music possesses. And I then return to the theoretical approach, but with a greater focus on looking at similiarites and differences across a repertoire of an artist. This is mainly why I respect The Beatles; I think no other band has or is likely to compose such a hugely innovative and varied back catalogue, yet sound so distinctly idiosyncratic. There’s certainly a massive proviso – history is on The Beatles side, and if they’d never formed (and found George Martin) then some other band may have come along and used the recording techniques they utilised in ‘A Day In The Life’, but looking at the music industry now it’s clear to see how that song really did break down boundaries. Of ambition, as well as substance.
This is not to say that musical goodness is synonymous with the quantification of how many current artists were influenced by the original artist – in fact, far from it. Again this returns to the point I made earlier, that it is not certain criteria which comprise ‘goodness’, it is instead merely the reference to some criteria. It’s ok to like whatever you want to like, provided you actually like it. But there’s yet another proviso – why does “like” necessarily go hand-in-hand with “think”? For me, that’s because it does. But for others? That can’t be objective. As a sidenote, I think that ‘good’ is a weak description but instinctively, we use it merely to separate the music (or anything else) we like from the music we don’t. It’s an easy operator, and moreover, a convenient comparator.
The intentions of the music have to be important too, regardless of whether I’ve convinced myself out of the case for the objective good – and I think with great pop (what even IS pop?), there’s nothing wrong with listening to it. I’ve said it once with Girls Aloud, but some of the latest album is pretty challenging structurally and in its harmonies. Not so with the Spice Girls, but is nostalgia objective? This is brain-frying, ultimately.
On a very basic level, something which I have only touched on so far is the importance of whether the performer is also the songwriter – and it is clear to see that this is the main reason why ‘pop’ (i.e. commericial music making the top 10 and appreciated mainly by tweenies) is so easily and often dismissed, and I’ve been thinking about the concept of lyrics ‘intentionally made simple’. Whilst I think that it detracts from the possibility of the song being deemed ‘good’, I also wonder whether by default (or necessary antithesis), musicians who calculate every minute detail of their material could also be guilty of the same thing.
Take Field Music: one of my favourite bands, whose second album Tones Of Town is one of my favourite and most defining albums of the century thus far. It is immediately obvious to notice that every note, every chord, every change in time signature, has been done for a reason. I suppose this is different in that the reason it has been done is for exactly the opposite reason as that of the ‘over-simplified lyrics’ example, but playing devil’s advocate, who is to say that the manipulation is of any greater worth? Both are acts involving the demarcation of an ideal listenership. Thus I think it does come back to the same thing – whether the performers have had anything to do with the writing process. And my manipulation point links back once again, as if the listener/consumer/audience can see that the performer has been manipulated (again though I question whether there is a degree of this everywhere in the self-manipulation of performance), then that would provide some instinctive basis against a high ‘goodness’ score.
I think this comes down to something very similar to ‘the social function’ of the artist, creating something fairly akin to a presumption that ‘pop’ has to ‘do’ a lot more in order to gain respect, whereas music consciously and intricately written almost sets out on the other foot, creating expectations of high ‘goodness’, but perhaps facing harder critique because of this.
My motive for this thought process isn’t purely one of self-entertainment, but instead, I am thinking out loud to try and effect a change in those I consider ill-educated, or brain-starved. So this goes back to the self-obsession point. And again, the more I think, the more I seem to theorise – the concept of a ‘goodness’ score also is something that I have trouble with, but this has made me think a bit deeper still, as who is to ever say that anything can ever be marked by anything other than subjective criteria? This is because I have just thought about music which technically possesses all of the criteria I deem as facilitating/constituting ‘goodness’, yet for some unattributable reason, I do not deem accessible or enjoyable.
Equally, fitting new music into existing definitions of what one likes can potentially keep a person from hearing extremely difficult, yet wonderful, music, or can keep one from enjoying a simple, stupid, (yet fantastic) pop song. That’s the necessary antithesis of the whole criteria thing too though. It’s one hugely vicious circle, and I love it so.
Maxïmo Park's Paul Smith
April 27, 2009
If you’re expecting a review in the typical sense, take a deep breath and forget about it.
Yesterday I realised that this Brixton Academy show makes for the 10th time I have seen this clearly dearly beloved Teesside five-piece live. Over a five-year period starting with a Futureheads support slot, I have less-than-gradually succumbed to a point where I hoard a collection of B-sides, demos, covers… look, I’m obsessed with Pavement and other such but this is different. It’s now.
From the umlaut to the stage quirks, Maxïmo Park are the sort of band it’s natural to fall in love with. And gone now is the book prop of the early days; it’s been replaced with something far more big-scale, namely professionalism. I can recall figureheads for every single one of the nine shows: Brixton Academy in 2007, A Certain Trigger is played in order, Paul Smith almost (I think ‘almost’) cries after playing ‘Acrobat’ for one of the first times; a cover of The Go-Betweens‘ ‘I Haven’t Seen Her In Ages’ at The Forum last year, in the encore; ‘Once, A Glimpse’ at the Vinyl Factory in London with different lyrics read from a book (nameless, I think). Let’s not even get into the scissor-kick/falling-less-than-gracefully-into-a-heap-on-the-floor incident at Camden Barfly in January 2005. … Continue Reading
Maxïmo Park
May 14, 2009
Is it just me, or have Maxïmo Park become quietly huge? It only dawned on me that they were a big deal now when I saw them placed third from top on this year’s Reading/Leeds Main Stage bill. It’s not surprising, then, that most of this tour is sold out, and even less surprising that the two Newcastle dates were the first to do so. Expectations are high, but the crowd is partisan – that much is clear from the opening bars of ‘The Coast Is Always Changing’, the crowd in full voice throughout.
But how does the new material compare to the classics? Sirens blaring, ‘Wraithlike’ holds its own against the euphoric opener, with Paul Smith evidently enjoying the use of his new megaphone prop. The megaphone crops up again during ‘The Kids Are Sick Again’, which stands out mostly due to the fact that it’s the only other new song a lot of people appear to know. However, the rest of the material from Quicken The Heart somehow doesn’t have the same impact. It’s not that the new songs are bad, per say, but none of them particularly stand out as highlights of the set . For me, the lone exception comes during the band’s encore, with ‘Questing, Not Coasting’ making its mark with a stirring chorus that more than makes up for the almost cringe-worthy line that precedes it (“Hey you, what’s new?/I know your face/Hey you, what’s new?/Let’s go some place”). The live setting fails to mask clumsy lyrics elsewhere however – for example, ‘Let’s Get Clinical’s rhyming of ‘criminal’ and ‘clinical’ just comes off as cheesy. … Continue Reading
Maxïmo Park - The Kids Are Sick Again
‘The Kids Are Sick Again’ is the appetiser to Maxïmo Park’s forthcoming third album Quicken the Heart. They’re back folks and this time they seem touchy, paranoid and a damn sight more serious. The song begins with sweeping electro bass clatter, and probing drums before vocalist Paul Smith arrives to sing about restless, mundane aspects of the suburban life “Pointless days pining/Afternoons whining/The suburbs scream/At passers byâ€. Punchy guitar carelessly drifts in and out like a crisp packet blowing down a quiet cul-de-sac.
‘The Kids are Sick Again’ builds and builds, and makes a futile attempt to be uplifting but for whatever reason the track stutters around the two minute mark and never catches flight. Ending with the ominous repetition of “The kids are sick again/Nothing to look forward to/They jumped the cliff again/Future sinks beneath the blueâ€.
Charismatic front man Paul Smith is usually the electric spark that makes Maxïmo Park appealing with his perceptive lyrics and distinctly poetic delivery. On ‘The Kids Are Sick Again’ he takes a while to get going, almost as if he is shaking off the rust. I am baffled about what Smith is actually saying in this song, is it a paean about his own school days, or a sociological observation about the youth of today and their apparent bleak prospects? Because it’s hard to believe a 30-year-old bloke [Ed - don't quote us on that] is down with the kids. … Continue Reading
Maxïmo Park - Quicken The Heart
It’s overcast outside, dull as two-year-old drizzle, so what can we do to pass the time? Oh hold on there’s a lightbulb emitting its soul around the circumference of our musoish brain: let’s liveblog our reaction to the new Maxïmo Park LP, Quicken The Heart. You can live through us that way. You trust us implicitly, right? Just hit F5… coming up very very soon!!! It will begin at 12pm…
If you’re hanging on the refresh button, here’s some background – it’s genuinely the first time I’ll have listened to the new album. For real. Watch my mind unfold before your very eyes. Not just any mind, but a ‘Park afficcionado’s mind.
From what we’ve read so far, criticisms have centred around Smith’s vocals being “irksome” or something. Which is, well, a bit selfish. They’ve consistently proven themselves one of the most diversely influenced bands out there in the semi-mainstream. Their B-sides over the years are worth seeking out, so very worth seeking out – edging towards alt.country, eulogic folk paeans, way more than that. So the fact that we’re now at album three has created quite some stir round these parts. … Continue Reading
Young Marble Giants - Colossal Youth
Colossal Youth is likely the least instantly complex album you’ll ever hear. Yet at one at the same time, it could very well also be the simplest and most addictive album to’ve graced your ears by the time you’ve reached the 31st playback. A mere glance at the monochrome album cover (left) would give a hint of that.
Cardiff’s Young Marble Giants are playing their debut (and only) album back in its entirety at ATP: The Fans Strike Back really quite soon, which means that there’s no better time than now to run a load of new converts through a true classic.
The harsh yet metronomic beats of ‘Searching For Mr. Right’ open Colossal Youth, setting the scene for a bass-framed, turn-peppered, termite-infested snapshot of loneliness. The creation of a defining solitude is simply masterful, and the effect of the break at around 2.13 is so as to throw the sound out into the open like a cold hard blow. ‘Credit In The Straight World’ couldn’t be more current, going for broke on timeless threads of popular culture and terminating in a sudden cut-off, subsisting through the posing of heavy syncopation against comforting quavers.
Wispy, tripped-out vocals feature thoughout, notably heavily on ‘Constantly Changing’ with the lyrics reflecting the instabilities of a world out of the voice’s control. The mammoth variation in sound on this album is remarkable, with ‘N.I.T.A’ sounding a little like Medieval plainsong through the eyes of Philip Glass and the Cocteau Twins. Mini-climaxes and flinchy deaths abound, it’s space-like and strangely disconcerting.
The title track is apoplectic, an apt and perhaps subconscious precursor to The Strokes. It’s also clear to see the influence of Young Marble Giants in the material of Maximo Park, namely in the techniques employed by Duncan Lloyd in ‘Books From Boxes’ and Archis Tiku in ‘A19′, the method of using the density of rhythms to deploy emotion.
‘Brand-New-Life’ potters along, luring the listener in via an oh-so-clever pastiche of other music, a reinvention of self-imposed standards with a slipping façade knocking against the protagonist’s nose until the winner finally makes himself known. ‘Wind In The Rigging’ is somehow epic, surely sampling the sound of switching the channel on an analogue portable TV from the ’80s.
The sound throughout is that of only a guitar, bass, vocals and drum-machine, and can be best described as wilfully teetering the line between under-produced and produced to pedantry. Not just that, but the drum machine was one that they assembled themselves from a set of diagrams in a geekish magazine. Rough Trade’s flagship darlings approach their impending apocalypse to truly skin-crawling effect, Alison Statton’s single-note phrases screaming their existences into some pole opposite the mainstream solipsism of the generation.
‘Include Me Out’ has a shufflier bass and a twangier guitar, setting its garagey motifs against each other. And the descending bass melodies on ‘Eating Noddemix’ sounds like voyeurism, somehow creating and sitting within the persona of someone overlooking a scene like a door into a personalityless commentator’s observations. ‘Wurlitzer Jukebox’ is altogether more frantic, sung from a new persona, a faux-cutesy one at that so as to hammer home just how much Statton’s sweet vocals are at odds with their own portrayal.
‘The Man Amplifier’ has a grainy, nigh on 12-bar-blues quality to it, a cinematic dichotomy of circus lines and solitude, whereas ‘Choci Loni’ is quite simply the poster boy for how Colossal Youth, an album so texturally bare, can succeed in having such grandiose ambitions.
‘Salad Days’ is Colossal Youth’s eyesore, with an even lower and more sinister bass. It’s astonishing that it’s part of the same piece as ‘The Taxi’, so ahead of its time and full of blips that it effectively synopsises Ratatat’s back catalogue in just over two minutes.
Both stark and emotionally interwoven, this album hasn’t lost any of its context; it’s precise, mechanical, wistful and limbering, and all within the confines of a limited palate. It’s a middle-class take on a decaying society, an album that exists within the vacuum/spacelessness of its reductionist yet unguarded background. … Continue Reading
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