Moody, brooding, haunting, lush, rich, gorgeous…it’s easy to apply adjectives to the music of Steven Wilson and Aviv Geffen. What’s difficult is pinning down the precise nature of the magic in the music they make together–what makes it so singular.
This is the song “Blackfield” from the album of the same name, by the duo of the same name. If you’re looking for a comparison, all I can come up with is Dark Side of the Moon. Though it’s an imperfect match, if you like that album there’s a good chance you’ll hear the beauty in what these guys do as well. This would sit atop my list of contemporary rock to recommend to fans of classic rock.
Drink Me, a Brooklyn duo who produced two albums in the first half of the 90’s, were quite simply genius. With a degree of musical economy to match the great Roger Miller or the early Beach Boys, their concise songs could nevertheless pack a lyrical wallop.
One of the problems I’ve always had with the nebulous label of “Alternative Music”, which has been applied to everyone from R.E.M. to Jason Mraz, is that it mostly describes mainstream music. If your albums sell gold and platinum and chart in the top 5, what are you the alternative to?
Just as the word “awesome”, applied to double cheeseburger, leaves one little verbal ammunition for describing the birth of a child, the term “Alternative” leaves us lacking a useful label for music that is truly unlike any you’ve heard before. I would call Brave Combo and King Missile and the early work of They Might Be Giants “Alternative”. And I’d put Drink Me in that category–if the category didn’t include Oasis.
Imagine if Simon & Garfunkel had a sense of humor. And maybe a drinking problem–or possibly bipolar disorder. And a tendency to experiment with hallucinogenics. On second thought: don’t imagine, just listen. Really, there’s nothing like these guys.
The world’s a waterbed
A swaying plastic field of yielding limbs and idleness
A troubled bubble pipe of love but I can’t deny
The pie-eyed piper’s cry
The marriage bed’s a boat
Of sound design and lines beyond reproach
And lashed to the Missus’ mast one could defy
The siren’s sultry sighs
And if youth is a bathtub
Filled with bubbles and toys
Then the water gets cold as you start getting old
And my skin’s getting wrinkled but I’m still lingering
In Time’s untiring car
We sat in back with a flask and clasped beneath the stars
And watched out loose and useless youth go rolling by
The Tallest Man on Earth is Sweden’s Kristian Matsson.
“1904” is, according to Rock Cellar Magazine, about “a year that ‘shook the world’, with an earthquake in Sweden and Norway, the beginning of the construction of the Panama Canal, and the start of the Russo-Japanese War.”
Glasgow, Scotland’s Alastair Ian Stewart (if all that’s not redundant) has been around as long as the Rolling Stones, whom he actually opened for in 1963, and has quietly built a career as one of the more singular singer-songwriters out there. Truly one artist whose influences are almost impossible to pin down, Stewart’s style forsook convention in many ways: songs with lengthy running times, using the f-word in a ballad, historical and seafaring themes, and a lyrical style rich with detailed imagery. His songs were almost word-paintings, often not built around a hook, but written as narratives that required a little patience of a listener.
“Merlin’s Time” which dates from the tail-end of Stewart’s run of U.S. chart success, finds him in atmospheric reverie of ancient England’s “kingdom lost to time”.