I guess there's probably something a little serendipitous about the fact that I (and others) attended the album launch of a local group named Lamplight on the same evening as the notorious Earth Hour. I imagine there were, in fact, many people who purpetrated activities by lamplight that night. But how many of these lamps emitted enthused orchestral progressive folk rock? I dare say very few.
The group themselves were quite something, although I recommend their live set over the album they were launching (despite the gorgeous cd case, made entirely out of varnished wood). I say this not only because frontman Mijo Biscan makes for a charmingly informal spectacle, cracking wise with a goofy grin and giving bandmates elaborate high fives, nor because violinst Indiana Avent is simply SEX IN A DRESS, but because Lamplight have a rampant energy on the stage that can't be gleamed through studio work.
Which is not to say the music is ever really bad. The talent here can't hide - songwriting and arranging seen on Selftitled/Untitled has a sophistication not given to almost any other Melbourne bands, and there's a genuine joy that can be taken from knowing that young people don't need to haplessly hire old hands to do their fancy pants string and horn arrangements for them. At the same time, there's a raw power that was wielded by these young people when I saw them live at certain points in their performance that is just not matched at those same points in the recorded counterparts. Call it just one of those things.
Nonetheless, I heartily recommend this innovative quintet for those who are fans of contemporary Australian music. I predict they will be a steady force in the scene for a while now. (If you are heading to Europe over the next few months, I believe they are doing an informal tour there).
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
IT: The Televisual Revolution!
Through sheer will of boredom, I found myself listening the other night to the cast and crew's DVD commentary of the 1990 miniseries IT. Now, before sharing with you the delight and wonder that ensued, I must first present my opinion of the miniseries itself, which is a prerequisite for said delight and wonder.
My opinion of IT: A bit of light, Sunday night entertainment which tries so sincerely in every regard that it breaks even from it's failure to scare and its mighty fists of ham, while riding on the back of one terrific performance by Tim Curry.
According the director and cast, this production was not only the greatest experience of each of their lives, but a benchmark of television writing, a staple of filmic innovation and, in certain respect, a progressive feminist text of the highest order.
And you thought it was just a scary clown!!!
My opinion of IT: A bit of light, Sunday night entertainment which tries so sincerely in every regard that it breaks even from it's failure to scare and its mighty fists of ham, while riding on the back of one terrific performance by Tim Curry.
According the director and cast, this production was not only the greatest experience of each of their lives, but a benchmark of television writing, a staple of filmic innovation and, in certain respect, a progressive feminist text of the highest order.
And you thought it was just a scary clown!!!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Little Known Wonders of the Musical World: Part Three
Tonight a certain piece has been playing on my mind. Although secrecy and the ensuing sense of security are surely a part of the warm feeling it brings, I would like to share.
What is it? It's a musical representation of a trip down the Nile river in Egypt, entitled River of the Ancients. It's written by a chap named Michael Sweeney, who has probably written more charts for high school bands than he has had hot meals.
Where is it? I heard it first when my high school concert band played it (all fucking year) 2006, but an in-tune and in-time version can be found on The Music of Michael Sweeney, Vol. 2, which I ended up buying last week just to hear the thing proper.
What's so good about it? You'd be hard-pressed to find a veteran of high school orchestra ensembles who actively enjoys the music they were forced to play, but I'm sorry to say I'm one of them. If you either accept or ignore the admittedly lame historic basis for the tune, it winds up sounding like something Grieg might have done - moody, unpredictable and manically symphonic. Maybe I just get off on really tightly composed pieces of music, which this surely is, but I like to think that it's more to do with the piece itself. Harmonically pleasing, heralding, rewarding. Conceivably lame, yes, but not one bit disingenuous. It's just music that sounds good to my ears.
What is it? It's a musical representation of a trip down the Nile river in Egypt, entitled River of the Ancients. It's written by a chap named Michael Sweeney, who has probably written more charts for high school bands than he has had hot meals.
Where is it? I heard it first when my high school concert band played it (all fucking year) 2006, but an in-tune and in-time version can be found on The Music of Michael Sweeney, Vol. 2, which I ended up buying last week just to hear the thing proper.
What's so good about it? You'd be hard-pressed to find a veteran of high school orchestra ensembles who actively enjoys the music they were forced to play, but I'm sorry to say I'm one of them. If you either accept or ignore the admittedly lame historic basis for the tune, it winds up sounding like something Grieg might have done - moody, unpredictable and manically symphonic. Maybe I just get off on really tightly composed pieces of music, which this surely is, but I like to think that it's more to do with the piece itself. Harmonically pleasing, heralding, rewarding. Conceivably lame, yes, but not one bit disingenuous. It's just music that sounds good to my ears.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Little Known Wonders of the Musical World: Part Two
Tonight a certain piece has been playing on my mind. Although secrecy and the ensuing sense of security are surely a part of the warm feeling it brings, I would like to share.
What is it? The song is called Gospel, and it signifies a very pleasant change in direction by Melbourne based indie group Treetops.
Where is it? Give it a gander for free at the band's myspace, and if you're very impressed, you can purchase their EP, also called Gospel, for what I'm sure is a bargain price.
What's so good about it? Gospel is your classic "bastard regret" song, but it makes its mark by using infectiously catchy melody and good-energy playing to shift its focus much more toward the redemption than the regret. The shout chorus of "I'm only doing good things from now on" is done with such relentless positivity and conviction, and is so congruous with the rest of the song, that the implied irony takes a backseat. Gospel isn't ineffectual - it knows there's despair and darkness in the world, but wants to celebrate the light when its there. True to its name, it actually is something of a genuine Hallelujah.
What is it? The song is called Gospel, and it signifies a very pleasant change in direction by Melbourne based indie group Treetops.
Where is it? Give it a gander for free at the band's myspace, and if you're very impressed, you can purchase their EP, also called Gospel, for what I'm sure is a bargain price.
What's so good about it? Gospel is your classic "bastard regret" song, but it makes its mark by using infectiously catchy melody and good-energy playing to shift its focus much more toward the redemption than the regret. The shout chorus of "I'm only doing good things from now on" is done with such relentless positivity and conviction, and is so congruous with the rest of the song, that the implied irony takes a backseat. Gospel isn't ineffectual - it knows there's despair and darkness in the world, but wants to celebrate the light when its there. True to its name, it actually is something of a genuine Hallelujah.
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