it smells of trenches, cold meat and burned bodies around here. as you walk along, horrific faces, stories and landscapes come to mind. you have never felt so alone in your whole life. you have never thought a record could scare the hell out of you that much.
the drift is disturbing in many ways, not least the way it may affect the listener who will have to be open and courageous enough to endure its company for a whole hour and renew the experience until something deeply meaningful sinks in. the only record i own that comes close to scott's newie is diamanda galas' will and testament. in both cases, we are confronted to a dark, horrific and terrifying piece of music, a primal scream against the horror of war and man's utter lack of humanity for its own genre. a black and white canvas that feeds on utter disgust and that's turning before your eyes into a ten feet high statue with a dislocated body and a very humane face at the top that screams at you "what have we done?"
diamanda galas once said: "my voice was given to me as an instrument of inspiration for my friends, and a tool of torture and destruction to my enemies. an instrument of truth". i am very much inspired by the drift. i've always been drawn to people who have the guts to make huge holes in every barbarian. dead or alive. to deny, to forget or to not be bothered by the painful parts of our country's historical truth, our common history as human beings or even to some extent one's very own history as an individual is to be on the barbarians' side. that is why having a good dose of historical truth forced upon us, into our ears and down our collective and individual throat once in a while is essential. the experience may be disturbing to many of us but how can we make a better place for ourselves and become more kind and caring individuals unless we accept and learn from our condition and dive into the horrors of the past?
for my granddad, it's easy. he doesn't need scott or diamanda. all he has to do is to switch on to WWII mode and relive parts of it. then, when the pictures have vanished, all he wants to do is to take his wife, his grandchildren or the world into his arms and be the kindest man ever. but what about people like me who've never been through the horrors of what war or disease bring? what do we know? how can we truly appreciate our luck unless someone tells us from time to time and in a very disturbing and violent manner how lucky we are?
most of us think that we don't need to be reminded. many of us think that there's enough daily blood on our television channels and internet pages without going on about the horrors of the past. but, has this daily blood prevented our western society from turning into a stinking, individualistic pile of shit? do you care about your neighbour? do you know him? are you really kind to your ageing mother? or are you too busy living like an individualistic prick?
watching daily blood on a screen won't make us better individuals. our relationship to the media and especially our tv or computer screen is so screwed up that we don't even see blood anymore. turn on cnn and tell me what you see. tell me how you feel watching these pictures. you'll realize how fucked up you are. how your humanity is leaving you piece by piece. how little you care.
now, put the drift or will and testament on and unless you've already turned numb, you will react. in one way or another, you'll feel humane again.
the drift is beyond mere music. it is a piece of work that matters. that is why i won't go back to it again and again cos it would be like hanging a picture of burnt babies in a trench above my bed. it would be like going to the nacional centro de arte reina sofía museum every day for a month and sit in front of guernica for hours on end.
only fine art or first hand experience of savagery will save us from turning into robots.
MICHAEL CASHMORE has lived most of his musical endeavour in the shadow of david tibet’s current 93. which is a little bit frustrating considering how much beauty and talent there is on offer here. remember when you were a kid? remember when you were lying on your bed, crying your eyes out cos something real bad had happened to you? remember when only your teddy bear could bring you comfort? sleep england, cashmore’s first solo record, is an instrumental record that sounds like your teddy bear. he will take care of you and dry your tears. DANIEL AGUST delighted old gus gus fans and released his first solo album, a beautiful little affair with plenty of strings in it called swallowed a star. CURRENT 93 released black ships ate the sky, their most ambitious record to date. more people than usual gave a shit this time round cos a) a few vip's sang over it. b) journalists have just realised that david tibet has cool friends who release hip records. other than that, most people still think that every record tibet has released for the past twenty years smells of goth shit. all the while, devendra banhart puts crows all over his record sleeves and wears more kohl than siouxsie sioux. oh the irony. JOHNNY CASH made me cry with american v: a hundred highways. one of the very rare records i am certain to listen to all along the way and until the very end. CLINT MANSELL, mogwai and kronos quartet made a record most post-rock bands around would probably kill their mum for. as any good music in that genre, this soundtrack conveys a sense of hope that is extremely moving. the fountain: one of the most visually beautiful films i have watched too.
KWOON sold on their website and at gigs only a pretty good self-release debut album. although tales and dreams displays technical and production flaws, i challenge any dreamer not to be impressed by these very young men's beautiful post-rock music. top artwork too. one can only imagine what the album would have sounded like should more money had been put into it. THE LEGENDARY PINK DOTS called their umpteenth album your children placate you from premature graves (greatest album title ever or what?). it made me realise that i was finally old and opened enough to get back to and immerse myself in most of the band's back catalogue. ka-spel is an incredible writer and a visionnary indeed. MOJAVE 3 released puzzles like you, a summery album and THE BLACK HEART PROCESSION came back to haunt me with the spell. PETER VON POEHL received a lot of press and tv attention in france with going to where the tea trees are. and quite deservedly so.
FINAL FANTASY released he poos clouds, a record that according to its creator is supposed to prevent everyone who listens to it from entertaining thoughts about suicide. yeah, right; except that it doesn't make you roll on the carpet in laughter either. TOM WAITS offered us a three disc set titled orphans - brawlers, bawlers and bastards. a compilation of some sort, it displays the extent of waits' eclectic output since the early seventies. bawlers, the second cd, is full of ballads that are as heartbreaking as anything the man put out in the first ten years of his great musical adventure. BROADCAST released a compilation called the future crayon. the best record they've put out so far. TRANSBEAUCE's holyhead is an instrumental record that makes the perfect synthesis between the cure circa faith, robin guthrie's quieter moments and sparse electronic touches. inspired and frequently beautiful. 2006 was also the year that GREGOR SAMSA released some of the most beautiful music since sigur ros' agaetis byrjun. 55:12 is my album of the year too. dark and luminous in equal measures. i have read here and there that THE ALBUM LEAF’s latest album isn’t half as good as their previous one, in a safe place. i don’t know which one is best but the newie sounds more heartfelt. which suits me better. all hail into the blue again!
FAVOURITE REISSUE OF THE YEAR
TWO BEAUTIFUL CHORAL WORK ALBUMS RELEASED THIS YEAR
FAVOURITE GIGS OF THE YEAR
THE SILVER MT. ZION MEMORIAL ORCHESTRA & TRA-LA-LA BAND, la cigale, paris - 30apr
KILLING JOKE, primavera sound festival, barcelona - 02jun
SIGUR ROS, olympia, paris - 06jul
MOGWAI, primavera sound festival, barcelona - 03jun
THE FLAMING LIPS, primavera sound festival, barcelona - 02jun
torn between confession and dissidence
i'll be a stain on your shiny wall
for i am the underfed boy in careless shoes
sleeping rough with the morning dew
thorns denied clutching at my backwoods
a dedication i was never meant to share
surviving tools aren't made for walking dear
they barely keep your friends and family unaware
oh but what is it you say
kindred spirits aren't we
oh but what is it you say
suffocating hand is no futility
juggling with inane paralytic fears
wrapping inconsequence with light
our unsaid display of poison shit
has told me to become who i am
muscles in place and a steady walk
remember me as an oddity to despair
a one-eyed toy filled with spaceships
whose resting place already reads
he's tried to love
