Alanis Morissette - Right Through You / Perfect / You Learn / Head Over Feet

Last weekend, I went around at the University of Memphis English Department party compulsively asking everyone variations on “So do you like Alanis Morissette or what?” (“Have you listened to Alanis Morissette recently?” “Are you an Alanis fan?” “You’re Canadian, do you like Alanis?”) All of the answers I got were variations on “No.” Some of my colleagues (the Canadians) told me that they remembered her as a child star, back when she made dance music that sounded like a mix of Paula Abdul and Pat Benatar. I have yet to find anyone in my real life who regards her with anything other than fond ‘90s nostalgia, that curse of the CD binder.
I was once like these people. I thought of Alanis as catchy, corny, and second-rate — and, after all, she was no Fiona Apple. My Alanis conversion occurred while driving from Boston to Tennessee to start this new professor job. My boyfriend and I downloaded the Spotify Landmark sessions about Jagged Little Pill, released on the album’s 20th anniversary in 2015. In it, Morissette and her co-writer and producer Glen Ballard describe the process of making the album. They are a little too in love with the songs they wrote together, and Glen is a little too in love with Alanis. (“Five months after we wrote this,” Ballard says about “All I Really Want,” “She would emerge as one of the most charismatic and powerful women on the planet.”) But they also describe their lovely and organic collaboration, as they wrote songs and created demos often in a matter of hours or minutes. Morissette would quickly scribble lyrics in a notebook or else improvise them over Ballard’s instrumentation. This is to blame for some of the songs’ triteness (as she so cogently puts in on “You Learn,” “You live / You learn / You love / You learn”), but it’s also why Jagged Little Pill still sounds so fresh and undone and interesting today.
Morissette made the album in 1994 in a burst of freedom, after being dropped by her Canadian record label because she wanted to write more of her own music. It is beautiful to hear her tell the story of how, at only 19, she regained power over her image, after years of being exploited as a teen pop sensation. This narrative was mostly missing from initial coverage of Jagged Little Pill and its lead single “You Oughta Know,” with journalists treating her, infuriatingly, as just another teen pop sensation, even if she was one who scared them a little. Rediscovering annoying reviews of great female artists by creepy male rock critics is old hat by now, but even positive reviews of Jagged Little Pill were condescending. Robert Christgau wrote that Alanis was “happy to help 15 million girls of many ages stick a basic feminist truth in our faces: privileged phonies have identity problems too.” I don’t even know what that means, but the general impression was that she was the ideal studio-molded anti-pop star: a snarling Veronica, not a perky Betty.
This contradictory distrust in both Morissette’s bald emotion and her unexplainable polish drove the discourse surrounding her, and she was treated with the dismissive respect reserved for anyone who gets a diamond album singing only for women and girls. The jokes about her as an angry ex-girlfriend got old, as they later would with Taylor Swift. Somehow, it’s still trendy to rag on her for misusing the word “ironic” on her most successful single, though it is a subtler and smarter song than it sounds like at first listen. As Alanis grinningly sings, “Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think,” she perfectly evokes the Jerry Seinfeld and Chandler Bing school of “irony,” beloved by the men who list sarcasm as an interest on their OkCupid bios. “I’ve had my ass kicked for 20 years about it,” Morissette says good-naturedly about “Ironic” on the Spotify tapes. “I think people had a lot of issues with perhaps my ‘stupidity,’ or Glen’s and my lack of caring for being perfect… For us it was just making each other laugh that whole song.”
It does seem unfair all the shit Alanis has gotten for “Ironic,” especially considering that stupidity is one of the chief pleasures of rock music, though it’s often billed as simplicity, frankness, rawness, or vulnerability. One of the masterpieces of the pop form goes “Be my little baby (be my, be my)” over and over; garage and grunge rockers have always achieved transcendence by playing it as stupid as possible. I don’t know why Alanis is so rarely compared to her fellow genre-mashing weirdo Beck, who also blended folk songs with sampling, and whose nonsensical first hit single is about being a loser who should be killed.
I mean, I do know why. There is an expectation of earnestness from women artists, as if we are not conscious actors but banshees wailing our allotted portion of eternal pain. We are, ironically, allowed no irony. And even as critics misunderstood the subtler meanings in their songs, the entire Lilith Fair crowd of singer-songwriters was dismissed as being too serious, too earnest, too political, a total buzzkill. But the ability to write seriously was exactly what Morissette was seeking when she came to the U.S.; after she and Ballard wrote “Ironic,” she decided that she would write the lyrics alone for the rest of the album, in order to push herself to write more honestly and autobiographically.
This is what critics really misunderstood about Jagged Little Pill: she was writing in earnest, but about much more than breakups. In their review of Jagged Little Pill, Entertainment Weekly wrote that “in [Morissette’s] songs, men take her for granted and mentally abuse her, and she retaliates by threatening to leave one of her exes’ names off her album credits (talk about a career-minded individual).” But the abuse she suffered at the hands of men in the Canadian record industry was serious and pervasive — she was a vulnerable child, not a woman scorned. The song EW is referring to, “Right Through You,” is a breathtaking “fuck you” to the creeps who once were in charge of her career, as she sings, “You took me for a joke / You took me for a child / You took a long hard look at my ass / And then played golf for awhile.”
Morissette has spent her entire career calling out the egregious and mundane harm men perpetrate on young women. Her late hit “Hands Clean,” which describes a relationship she had with an older man as a fourteen-year-old, is brilliant and sad in its depiction of his manipulation: “If it weren't for your maturity none of this would have happened...” Morissette sings to herself in the voice of her lover. “If it weren't for my attention you wouldn't have been successful/And if it weren't for me you would never have amounted to very much.” Her signature song, “You Oughta Know,” in which she beats down her ex’s door and forces him to confront her in all her rage, takes on a different tone when one remembers that a teenaged Alanis wrote it about a man 17 years her senior. The miraculous thing about Jagged Little Pill is that Morissette transformed these experiences of being harassed, assaulted, underestimated, and dismissed into something no one could dismiss, a record so big it took over the world. She did it fearlessly, undeterred by the risk of becoming that dreaded thing, an angry brunette. “A lot of people have asked me why I was so angry then,” Alanis says with a laugh on Spotify Landmark, “Implying that I’m no longer angry.  From: https://theoutline.com/post/4400/alanis-morissette-very-intriguing-person

 

Troubadour Dali - Always

An old proverb states: "The more things change, the more they stay the same." Like most proverbs, there seems to be a hard kernel of truth behind the familiar words.
But at a time when the cell phone you buy is overtaken by a newer model every two months, the truth within that saying may seem to be shrinking as fast as download times for songs on iTunes.
Yet, there are some interesting examples of a deja vu effect in this modern world. One of them involves the St. Louis band, Troubadour Dali, and its upcoming residency at Off Broadway every Sunday evening this January.
Yes, you read that correctly. The band and Off Broadway are calling the four-Sunday stand at the club a residency. We're not talking about a continuing regular weekly performance such as the long running Monday night jam session at the Broadway Oyster bar hosted by the Soulard Blues Band.
This is a limited one-month schedule, and it's a concept that evolved from the jazz club scene in the 1950s - as well as the rock scene in LA in the '60s. Jazz musicians would set up shop at a club for an extended period then move on. Legendary LA-based bands such as the Doors, Love and others, worked as house bands or appeared regularly at such clubs as the Troubadour, Whiskey A-Go-Go, London Fog and Ciro's.
Now the residency is back in a big way on the LA music scene - especially on off nights such as Mondays. Bands play once a week for a month or so for free or minimal cover charges to build an audience.
The residency concept is actually something Troubadour Dali tried before at Off Broadway, according to band member Ben Hinn.
"We did a residency there back in January 2010," recalls Hinn during a recent phone conversation. "It really worked out perfectly for us as a band as well as for the venue. January is not a great month in terms of weather to be trying to tour - especially in the Midwest. And it gives us a chance to huddle up and work on some new material. Since we're in the studio now, that's especially nice."
The band is working on a couple of new songs that are planned for release late spring, according to Hinn. And in a marketing touch that definitely underscores the "what goes around" concept, the band plans to release the single as a flexi-disc.
For those too young to remember flexi-discs - or those whose memories may be a bit shaky - flexi-discs were popular in the 1960s and '70s to promote music inexpensively through a range of marketing outlets that included magazines and even cereal boxes. As the name implies, these discs were made of thin vinyl and could be played on a regular turntable - sometimes with the added weight of a coin to make sure they turned at the proper speed.
The most famous flexi-discs were the annual Beatles Fan Club holiday season releases from 1963 through 1969. With the revival of the vinyl LP in popularity, it seems that the flexi-disc concept has come back as well, even though sound quality can be dicey.
"It's just a fun thing to do," Hinn says. "And we're also going to have a way for anyone who picks up the flexi-disc to also get the songs as digital downloads."
Hinn is also looking forward to the four-week residency because Troubadour Dali will get to share the Off Broadway stage with several of their favorite up-and-coming bands each Sunday night. On Jan. 8, Ocean Rivals will be featured, and other bands such as Warm Jets USA, Tenement Ruth, Frances with Wolves, Electric Garden, Magic City and Red Mouth will also play on the January dates.
"We're very excited about the lineups for each evening," concludes Hinn. "Ocean Rivals are great friends, and we've never had the chance to play with Magic City and they're awesome. There should be plenty of unexpected surprises as well. Plus, it's free. You just have to be 21 or over."  From: https://www.stlpr.org/arts/2012-01-01/troubadour-dali-takes-up-residency-at-off-broadway

Värttinä - Live Viljandi Folk Music Festival, Estonia 2003

 Värttinä - Live Viljandi Folk Music Festival, Estonia 2003 - Part 1

 

 Värttinä - Live Viljandi Folk Music Festival, Estonia 2003 - Part 2

 

Scott Gianelli: How and when did Värttinä get started?

Mari Kaasinen: We started in 1983. My mother Pirkko taught my sister Sari and I about old Karelian poems. We started by reading these poems, singing and playing kantele. I was very young, only 12 years old, but I had been singing since age 2! Word went round our village of Rääkkylä about our new hobby, and we began to attract our friends. Then we became a small group and called ourselves Värttinä, which means “spindle.” Soon it grew into a large group, including some local boys playing instruments like violin, guitar, and bass for example. At one point we had 21 members!

SG: What was your original intent, or goal, when you and Sari created Värttinä? How has that goal changed over the last twenty years?

MK: At first it was just a fun hobby; music was in our blood. But when we discovered that there was such incredible interest in what we were doing, it began to take up much of our time and became more important to us. We soon realized how special and endangered Karelian culture was, and the hobby became more of a mission to keep the musical tradition alive, from the old songs, poems, and runos to the old women’s stories and songs. It was fascinating for us, and we realized that we had to perform these songs and poems so that they would not disappear. Not long after we got going, we also realized that we could not just perform these songs in the same way as the old women, but we had to make them more contemporary, to inject ourselves and the modern world into the songs and styles. That is the real birth of Värttinä, and our goal ever since. Over the years, our compositions have developed to a point that most of our actual melodies are totally original, although many are still based on traditional themes and melodies. Vocal arrangements are our own as well. Lyrically, we remain very true to old Karelian text styles, stories and dialect. Even though most of our words are our own, we have a deep conviction to express the style of the old poems. Our goal in that way has not changed. But now we also are committed even more to making original and good music, to try not to repeat ourselves, and search for new paths.

SG: How much of a role does folklore play in contemporary Finnish folk music in general, and in Värttinä’s music in particular?

MK: Finnish folklore doesn’t have a huge role in contemporary Finnish music, although it does play a significant part. Several pop, rock, jazz and classical artists have dipped into the folklore well over the years, taking from the Kalevala, for example. Pop singers and classical musicians have used artists like JPP and Maria Kalaniemi on records and in concerts. Värttinä has contributed to albums and concerts by some rock and pop artists. But Värttinä’s music isn’t so much about specifically Finnish folklore. It is more about Karelian tradition, like the Kalevala and Finno-Ugric women’s vocals.

SG: What exactly is the Kalevala, and how has that shaped your music?

MK: The Kalevala is the Finnish national epic, a collection of Karelian poems collected by Elias Lönnrot. The stories, poems, characters and dialect are all vital elements to Värttinä lyrics. There is great beauty and wisdom in these stories and characters. Children in school are forced to read and study Kalevala and unfortunately, some develop an aversion to it after leaving school. It’s a shame, really, because there are so many beautiful things in it. We hope to remind people of that.

SG: What role has the Sibelius Music Academy played in Värttinä’s career?

MK: Almost all of Värttinä’s members have been involved with the Sibelius Academy Folk Music Department. The department is a very important part of the contemporary folk music scene in Finland, teaching about tradition as well as composition, arranging, improvising, playing multiple instruments and more. It was the perfect place for us to spend time, as it suited our ideas and musical visions perfectly. The Sibelius Academy didn’t have so much to do directly with our career, but it did give us greater opportunities to expand our horizons in more ways.

SG: Aside from Finnish folk music, what do you like to listen to? What performers have been the biggest influence and inspiration to you?

MK: I have always loved Bulgarian and Hungarian music, especially the Bulgarian singers and Marta Sebestyen. But with a group of nine people, I get to hear so much more also.

SG: What does “iki” mean? Where does the title come from, and why was it chosen?

MK: In Finnish, “iki” means “eternal.” In Japanese, it means “breath.” This word suddenly appeared to us after we finished the album, and it fit perfectly. We chose “iki” to mean “the primal, eternal breath.” It completely describes the focus of the album, and in fact the true meaning of the band. The main thing about our music is the voices, and we wanted to present the vocals in a very intimate, naked way with this album. And after twenty years, the vocals are still the main thing in Värttinä. Eternal breath. That is Värttinä.

SG: The lyrics to a number of the songs on the new album are credited to “M. Kaasinen, trad.” From where do you take the traditional portions of your lyrics? Do you generally add a few of your own lines to an existing song, or do you look for a few traditional lines that go with what you’ve written?

MK: Usually what happens is I chance upon a word, phrase or idea from old texts of Kalevala or Kanteletar and get an idea for a new story or song. That is always great fun and a creative challenge: to build something out of a word or phrase and make something new while staying true to the original style, dialect, metre or whatever.

SG: In a few of the new songs, particularly “Tauti” and “Maahinen Neito,” there seems to be a strong Balkan, or perhaps gypsy, influence on the sound. Is the band as a whole deeply interested in Balkan music, or have a few members in particular brought this element into the band?

MK: We all love Balkan music, so that influence has always been a part of our sound. We love the odd rhythms and enjoy performing them live. There is a certain rhythmic and harmonic tension in those songs that we just love.

SG: Who are the Philomela choir? What was it like working with them, and hearing them perform your song “Syylinen Syli”?

MK: Philomela is a group of about thirty female singers. They approached Antto (Varilo, Värttinä’s guitarist) and me to write a song for them about two years ago. We wrote “Syylliinen Syli” for them. They loved it, recorded it and put it on one of their CDs. When it came time to do iki, we decided to try our hand at it. In our 20-Year Anniversary concert in Helsinki last month, it was great to see and hear them perform it on stage as our special guests. By the way, after they sang “Syyllinen Syli,” we three Värttinä singers joined them for “Emoni Ennen” (the last song off of Värttinä’s 1996 album Kokko). That was great fun.

SG: What was the inspiration for “Nahkarouska”?

MK: I just saw that word one day and liked the sound and idea of it. A song just jumped right out! It is maybe the most traditional sounding song in iki, with that repetitious melody and metre in the A part. But the boys made an amazing arrangement of it, it really cooks and I am quite happy with it.

SG: Who is Timo Kiiskinen, and how did he wind up contributing to the lyric-writing on the new album?

MK: Timo is a well respected writer and musician in Finland who happens to be married to Susan Aho (one of the other two singers). Together they wrote some songs.

SG: How have the new members of the band affected Värttinä’s style and sound?

MK: Johanna (Virtanen, the third singer) has a great voice, and her character suits our personalities perfectly. She loves to work, explore and try new things. Lassi (Logren, the fiddler) is from the original band and has amazing skills as a player, picking up melodies and parts very fast. His energy gives the band more power. Bass player Hannu (Rantanen) is also technically brilliant. He can play anything, anytime. Drummer Jaska Lukkarinen is not just a great player, but he has a youthful energy that keeps us on our toes. He is always there anticipating the beat. Altogether, the new members have strengthened Värttinä’s chemistry to an all-time high. Värttinä’s style and sound hasn’t changed so much, but the band’s energy has really broken loose.

SG: What do you think it is about Värttinä that has enabled the band to go from strength to strength in spite of all the personnel changes?

MK: Good question, and I’m not even sure I have the answer. I guess it is the dedication of the band and the organic way we work with composing, arranging and rehearsing our music. It’s a group effort, and it’s always challenging and great fun. We all enjoy finding new melodies, new arrangements, and new ideas, and it never gets old. Also, we love to perform, especially when audiences respond so intensely. One of the best moments of my singing career was in Budapest, I think it was 2001. We had played past the curfew for an audience of about 10,000, and then the festival organizers had to shut off the power because of strict city laws. But the audience wouldn’t leave. So we singers came back out, went to the front of the stage and sang “Aitara” (the closing song and title track to their 1994 album) with no microphones. The first 10 or 20 rows of people were right in front of us singing the words, cheering and jumping, and going bananas! It was incredible, and it reminded me why I love to sing and be with Värttinä. I think when the band gets this kind of charge with audiences, it boosts our energy a lot.

From: https://agreenmanreview.com/music-2/interview-with-varttinas-mari-kaasinen-march-2003/ 

 

Ginger Root's Shinbangumi - A Music Movie

If you were a child who existed within the ‘80s and ‘90s, chances are that Japanese pop culture left some sort of influence on your noggin. Whether it be the colorful landscape known as anime or the equally enchanting treasure trove of Japanese video games, manga, and other forms of art, there’s definitely something from Nippon that has imprinted somewhere on your soul. In the case of this writer, I was raised on the wacky sensibilities of shoujo (girl-focused) animated adventures, specifically Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Fushigi Yuugi, and Ranma ½, just to name a few. These and so many other landmark titles shaped my fascination towards listening to soul-infused pop, watching school girls run around with toast in their mouth, but most importantly, falling in love with the fascinating people who brought these beautiful stories to the screen. It’s a love affair that’s continued through my entire life and shaped every aspect of my artistic (and emotional) taste.
Now, some 30ish years later, the nostalgia for that era of faded cassette tapes, J-pop music, and other delicious memories of the past, has driven many fans to search for modern artists who evoke those similar enchanting ideals. One of the main leaders in this Japanese nostalgia movement is Ginger Root, an indie music group lead by singer/songwriter, Cameron Lew. Known throughout the internet as the guy who makes music videos with vintage Japanese camcorders for TikTok, it’s clear that Lew loves this era of Japanese culture just as much as the rest of us. Not only do his music videos and album covers pay tribute to the peak of said time, but this music feels like it was ripped right out of a forgotten anime. It’s a fact that becomes even more true with the band’s new visual album film, Shinbangumi, which serves as a love letter to the past with the perfect amount of biting commentary towards the future. Now with the project being released on VHS tapes after its airing on Adult Swim, it’s time to dive deep into what makes this unique narrative from Ginger Root stand ahead of the nostalgic content pack.
The movie opens on Ginger Root presenting a new (in his music video universe) anime adaptation of his Meet You in the Galaxy series to his manager (Nanami Iwasaki) at Juban TV. After the pair fail to agree on their next project, The manager decides to fire Lew, leading our protagonist to forge a new creative path without the backing of his previous network/employer. What then unfolds is a wacky, handcrafted, magical underdog story focusing on the turbulent world of TV production as Lew tries his best to get his original indie series Overdrive Academy out to the masses.
As the first musical sequence plays on, it’s clear that Lew and company understand the assignment at hand: create a piece that is the vibe to end all vibes. From the use of miniature sets to establish the world to the fantastic callbacks to iconic Japanese media, there’s a comforting nature to this musical project that’s infectious in the purest sense of the word. Granted, for those who weren’t spoonfed Power Rangers and Toonami at a young age, Lew’s aesthetics might come across as something more Wes Anderson (The Fantastic Mr. Fox) than its true Kamen Rider-meets-Mr. Rogers’ presentation. But what makes Shinbangumi more than just an excuse to throw anime-inspired imagery at the wall is the heart at its center. For even with all of its comedic tones, this is a project that is fueled by the anxieties of being an artist in an industry that refuses to accept creativity. And Lew, with neon-infused gusto, dives deep into that abusive cycle with confidence.
While the majority of Shinbangumi handles this tricky subject with confidence, easily the best example comes in the form of the “Only You” sequence. After being literally sucked into his own TV show, Ginger Root finds himself held hostage by two evil versions of himself, only to be saved by his Overdrive Academy heroine (indie artist Amaiwana) via her magical guitar. But as soon as he thinks he’s rescued, Ginger Root finds himself caught in an endless nightmare of imaginative chaos, culminating in him being whisked off into the sky via a magical flying subway train that eventually crashes back into a TV. While certainly whacky in its presentation, this scene speaks to the never-ending anxiety of the consumer-driven media landscape. No more is art created for the sake of the art itself, but rather is a destructive relationship with more give than take. One that Lew, being a notable figure of the TikTok era, knows the pressure of all too well.
Despite the massively depressing reality between its frames, Shinbangumi is more of a celebration than a cause for concern. Not only does the narrative (cautiously) celebrate the main character’s achievements, but the project simmers in the joy of creating artwork as a team. It’s an aspect that not only reflects the typical group efforts made to produce any piece of media, but puts an all-too-familiar spotlight on the similar teambuilding found in anime production companies. In every frame, you can feel Ginger Root’s unabashed admiration for Japanese Animation and TV production teams of the past. From the homages to Sukeban (delinquent schoolgirl) and Tokusatsu (special effects) shows, to the endless visual cues evoking Evangelion and other Studio Gainax era imagery, Shinbangumi is as much a love letter to Japan’s unsung artistic heroes as it is to filmmaking as a whole. And considering Lew’s background in filmmaking, it’s a treat to see him thrive in two art forms so beautifully.
Yet even with such high amounts of praise, to put simply, Shinbangumi is far from a movie for everyone. With its offbeat Huey Lewis-style MTV sensibilities to its endless references to Nippon’s late-Shōwa era pop culture, this clearly is made for a niche who has craved this kind of a material for decades. It also doesn’t help that many aspects of Shinbangumi revolve within the world of Ginger Root’s prior music videos, making it quite the head-scratching experience if you aren’t coming in with any prior knowledge of the band’s work. To put simply, if you’re coming in expecting this to be an easily digestible original piece, this might not be the music video anthology piece for you.  From: https://elementsofmadness.com/2025/05/21/shinbangumi/ 

 

Two Minutes to Late Night - PanaMama Cover Van Halen for Slay At Home Festival

Metal parody show Two Minutes to Late Night featured members of War on Women and High on Fire performing covers of Van Halen songs for the Slay at Home live stream. The group went by the name “PanaMama” for their set, which included War on Women’s frontwoman Shawna Potter and High on Fire drummer, Des Kensel.
The performance included covers of Van Halen’s “Aint’ Talkin’ Bout Love,” “On Fire,” “Jamie’s Cryin’” and “Panama.” Beginning with Van Halen’s iconic guitar, “PanaMama” stayed close to the originals as Potter mimicked Van Halen, her voice hitting hard with each note. Gwarsenio Hall wore his regular corpse-like face paint, changing from his typical suit into a pair of red overalls.
The camera pans between each member of the PanaMama Van Halen Cover Band, their instruments in synch so it sounds as if they are all performing together, despite Potter being in a studio as the rest are in various rooms around their houses. Hall continuously jumps up and down his couch, moving around his living room with the shots showing him side-by-side one another.
Two Minutes to Late Night have previously done covers of Guns N’ Roses’ “Rocket Queen,” White Zombie’s “Super-Charger to Heaven,” AC/DC’s “Riff Raff” with members of Cave In, Converge and Carcass, Danzig’s “Snakes of Christ,” Boston’s “Foreplay/Long Time,” a cover of “Crazy Train” with Chelsea Wolfe, Stephen Brodsky and Liam Wilson, Steely Dan’s “Reelin’ in the Years,” Prince’s “Purple Rain” and “Weird” Al’s “Dare To Be Stupid.”  From: https://music.mxdwn.com/2020/05/29/news/two-minutes-to-late-night-members-of-war-on-women-and-high-on-fire-play-van-halen-covers-set-featuring-panama-jamies-cryin-and-more-as-panamama-for-slay-at-home-live-stream/

Arcane Roots - Matter (Revel)

It’s a bittersweet experience listening to the latest Arcane Roots release, knowing it’ll be their last. We’re talking about a band whose output has rarely dwindled in its sky-high quality; a band who never got anywhere near the dues they were owed until it was too late. A band who, after 12 years of technical wonderment, are bowing out in fittingly left-field fashion.
‘Landslide’ is galaxies beyond the bolt-ons of half-hearted acoustic rehashes and remixes we’ve come to expect from studio efforts of its ilk. Elaborating on front man Andrew Groves’ inspiration from the likes of James Blake, Björk and Four Tet, it takes three cuts from Arcane Roots’ phenomenal sophomore album, 2017’s ‘Melancholia Hymns’, and gives them a new lease on life as vast soundscapes of ambient electronica.
‘Before Me’ – which is suffixed with the parenthesis ‘(Over)’ on this EP – is taken to new levels of cosmic majesty, especially with the added harmonies of London singer-songwriter Emily Denton. The haunting final refrain of ‘Don’t you think it’s already over?’ lodges itself in the mind as ‘Matter (Revel)’ makes an even grander entrance with sweeping synths and Groves’ wall-of-sound vocals.
The titular track builds from dystopian atmospherics to a ferociously heavy climax, but in the confines of this EP, feels more like a Melancholia Hymns b-side. The eight-minute conclusion of ‘Off The Floor (Fade)’, however, brings matters to a surprisingly pacy head with ticking percussion and technicolour charm. It just goes to show that the three-piece are adamant to burn out brighter than ever before, rather than fizzle away.
Even when you strip away the mind-bending hooks and explosive passages that we’ve come to love this band for, these tracks have lost none of the power or poignancy. Whatever happens from here, Arcane Roots can soar off into the ether gracefully, and safe in the knowledge that they’re doing so on a landslide victory.  From: https://www.punktastic.com/album-reviews/arcane-roots-landslide/

Arcane Roots have shared a video for their new single Matter (Revel). The song has been lifted from the band’s upcoming four-track Landslide EP, which will launch on September 14 via Easy Life Records. The trio released the title track back in June.
Vocalist and guitarist Andrew Groves says: “Matter was one of the first tracks to be written for Melancholia Hymns, all the way back in 2015. It was always intended to be the second track on the record and, thankfully, it arrived almost fully formed and perfectly exemplifying the heavier aspects of the album
“Lyrically, it grew out of the bitterness and resentment I was harbouring against the political climate at the time, and to say that things have changed since then would be somewhat of an understatement. 
“Now, given the chance to re-work it and finally release the (previously dormant) video, I wanted it to feel like the spinning decent into despair and disparity that all but surrounds us on a daily basis through our screens.”  From: https://www.loudersound.com/news/arcane-roots-share-video-for-haunting-new-single-matter-revel

Absynthe Minded - It Could Be

Hello, could you introduce the band?

Absynthe Minded is from Ghent. We started out as an acoustic swing band. I’m Bert, the singer and songwriter; then there’s Renaud, who plays violin and trumpet; Jan "the Organmeister"; Sergej, Mr. Bass; and Jakob, our very talented drummer.

What’s the idea behind the album title "Introducing"?

Knock, knock! Let me in! It’s a compilation of tracks from our first three albums, and with this record, we hope to make our debut in France. We’re ready to play for you. You really have to come see us live—if you like the songs, that’s the best thing to do!

"I Wanna Forget" has a rock feel, while "Substitute" is more Gypsy-style... is that a deliberate move to show you refuse to be pigeonholed into a single genre?

Exactly. We love all kinds of music, from punk to classical, and we want that to come through in our music.

So, isn't it reductive to define you as a jazz-rock band?

Yes, it is, but people always feel the need to put a label on things.

The use of the violin brings Venus to mind; did they influence you?

Venus? No, not at all, sorry...
I think Renaud’s main influence is jazz and the "Hot Club de France" style. You’d have to ask him sometime. There’s so much good stuff out there, so many talented artists... We love Miles Davis, Django, the Beatles, Klezmer, rock 'n' roll, soul, Beck, the Raconteurs, world music—everything! The list is endless!

How do you compose your songs? They’re all in different styles, yet there’s a distinct "Absynthe Minded" sound...

I write the songs on my own at home; I try to work on them every day, and every song I write is an Absynthe Minded song. The songs we play as a band are Absynthe Minded songs. That’s how I see it. We have a sound that’s uniquely our own, and we’re always trying to refine it.
I really like jazz. We’re all jazz fans, actually. Jakob and Renaud play in a great jazz band called Neruda.

I believe there’s a story behind your first single, "My Heroics, Part One"—could you tell us about it?

The track speaks for itself; it’s hard to add anything to that. Sorry.

Where do you see yourselves within the Belgian music scene?

Among the best?

Translated from: https://www.indiepoprock.fr/interviews/interview-de-absynthe-minded/ 

Broadcast - Colour Me In

The little-known 1970 Czech vampire film Valerie and Her Week of Wonders is a gorgeous blend of fairytale and horror show, a mix of surrealism, magical realism, and poetic visuals that explores the fears, desires, and sexual awakening of a young girl. That film-- which lends part of its title to Broadcast's "Valerie"-- is also a fitting inspiration for the Birmingham, England band's second full-length album, Haha Sound, which walks a rope between awe and dread, human longing and sonic unrest.
Haha Sound is a sharp turn from Broadcast's debut full-length, The Noise Made by People, and their early singles (collected on 1997's Work and Non-Work). As their album titles indicate, Broadcast are steeped in the exploration of the detail and nuance of "noise" and "sounds." On The Noise Made by People, the band created seamless, languid, soothing dreamscapes; here they've opted for a more cluttered, percussive rattle. As she has in the past, vocalist Trish Keenan still seems as if she's singing lullabies, though the rest of the group is more intent on inflicting nightmares. Keenan's opening confession and request, "I am gray/ Still on the page/ Colour me in," is heeded over the course of the record by her bandmates as her detached vocals and fragile melodies are accompanied by a carnival of vintage electronics and sometimes-cacophonous sheets of polyrhythms.
Broadcast again retain their affection for charity shop sounds here, but the past they now explore is the mythical ideal of our millennial future as popularized in the 1950s by post-war consumerism-- a wide-eyed vision that found province in science fiction films, mid-century modern furniture, and the spectral pop produced by outer-space abstractionists like Joe Meek and Phil Spector. The ghost of Meek, in particular, is echoed most clearly on "Man Is Not a Bird", "Minim", and a trio of short instrumentals, which may be slightly off-putting to long-time listeners accustomed to Broadcast's sultry, soothing sounds. Fortunately, however, Haha Sound is compelling right from the word go, thanks to the leftfield Big Top melody of "Colour Me In"-- perhaps the band's most overt homage to their unofficial patron saints, 60s psych-pop group The United States of America-- and the propulsive "Pendulum".
A pop/rock band that has been affiliated with Drag City, Tommy Boy, and Warp, Broadcast seem comfortable as outsiders searching for their own unique aesthetic. On "The Little Bell", Keenan claims: "Deep inside my wooden clock, there is a tick but not a tock/ Although into a room it chimes/ It only tells me half the time." She could have easily been talking about Broadcast's approach to creating off-kilter beauty. On Haha Sound, Broadcast take the infectious tick of pop and add it to the head-music tock of often non-pop genres (European art house soundtracks, exotica, incidental music, Ohm-style electronic pioneers). The result is an enveloping, mysterious record that marries the idealism of "the future of tomorrow today" to the stark reality of the post-millennial present and finds beauty and fascination in the tussle between melody and rhythm.  From: https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/947-haha-sound/

Type O Negative - Christian Woman

"Christian Woman" is a song by Type O Negative, included on their third album Bloody Kisses, released in 1993. It is the band's landmark song that propelled Type O Negative into mainstream popularity. It has '80s ethereal wave edge. The song is about a Christian woman complicating her thoughts about God. Pete Steele told Revolver, "[Christian woman] would get off on breaking the rules a little bit. She would ask me to dress up as a priest and, well, I guess you can just imagine what would happen after that. So, I guess you could say I have a bit of a priest infection."
This song is split into three cantos. The first canto, "Body of Christ (Corpus Christi)", is a radio hit and the only canto played on the single. The second canto, "To Love God", features sitar and tambura. The third canto, "Jesus Christ Looks Like Me", features the use of cowbells. The title of the third canto is taken from the title of the supposed third Carnivore album that didn't happen. There is an official music video for this song.  From: https://typeonegative.fandom.com/wiki/Christian_Woman

Buffalo Daughter - Global Warming Kills Us All

Music classified as “experimental” often triggers the same type of response as if you turned a corner and found a gang of possums mid-brawl: back away slowly, then run. The Japanese trio Buffalo Daughter might be relatable to a gang of possums, but instead of brawling they are hunkered around a microphone surrounded by an array of instruments. If you turned a corner to this scene, you may be more intrigued. BD is technically classified as indie rock, but I would venture to call them experimental in every sense of the word: They find a way to kick down boundaries of music without making listeners question, “is this even music?” Each of Buffalo Daughter’s seven albums has one-of-a-kind cover art, a track list filled with their mind-mashing sound and unpredictably clever music videos.
In the same way Gorillaz makes genre-less, aesthetic-less, unboxable artistry through the lens of their unique style, BD fans love them for their pointed ambiguity. In a world where so many musicians, media outlets and companies try to appeal to everyone, Buffalo Daughter leans into their niche and spoon feeds it to the lucky ones who fall hard in love with their music. We Are The Times echoes the patchwork structure of Buffalo Daughter’s past projects while incorporating lyrics that are honest, emotional and relevant.
Over the past year and a half, statements along the lines of “these are dark and uncertain times” rang in every conversation, advertisement and media outlet. Everyone had something to say, and Buffalo Daughter picked up the microphone in their own deconstructed way. There seems to be two sides to this album: the sprinkle, dance cuteness of “Music” and “Everything Valley,” and the dark, insidious, looming danger of “Global Warming Kills Us All” and “ET (Densha).”
“Music is the vitamin to live and die,” Buffalo Daughter prescribes in the opening five seconds of We Are The Times in “Music.” The language is critical here—in a time when health and safety are the world’s obsessions, words like “vitamin,” “live” and “die” stand out. Buffalo Daughter shares the importance of the music presented, giving listeners a deeper understanding of why they should listen to this album.
“Times” gives way to an abrasive instrumental mash-up that lacks structure, like most of Buffalo Daughter’s music, but has moments of thick, deep, gooey understanding. After the first stanza, a synth zooms downward, gathering weight quickly as it drops, and a groovy bass line jumps in. Most of this song didn’t sound conventionally good to my ears, but the uncomfort mirrored the world in a way that seemed intentional and useful for the album.
Apocalyptic scenes tornado around “Global Warming Kills Us All” in a back-breaking technological storm. The lyrics end ominously, singing “We’ll be left behind as ashes / Just so you know / Global warming kills us all.” Despite worldly disagreements, Buffalo Daughter grimly remind us that in dust we are all equal; there is unity in terror. “Don’t Punk Out” jumps into a jazzy, funky, poppy tune juxtaposed with lyrics that are essentially an internal push and pull about suicide, and “Loop” is riddled with the angst of needing to escape your own mind to no avail.
“ET (Densha)” is an EDM song in substance, a rock song in flavor. FKA Twigs–style estranged production and hovering vocals are a distant relative to this song. As much as I want to describe all its great uncertainty, this track is one to be experienced, not recounted. It’s a trap; it pulls you in despite your better knowledge and then cages you in it’s depth. “ET” stands for electric train, and the imagery is especially clear after the halfway mark of the song.
At exactly three minutes, the eerie wubs sink into space and a train horn passes, and the song builds into a crescendo of what I can only describe as The End. The music video adds another layer to the song, created more like a visualizer than a music video. It’s as hypnotizing as the song itself, and Buffalo Daughter absolutely destroyed this track.
“Jazz” indeed is a jazz song complete with bass, rhythm and blues. It is simplicity mastered. While the rest of their album might increase your heart rate, “Jazz” allows listeners to slump in their blues rather than fear them. The song closes with a French spoken proclamation that translates to: “I’ll live each second / With calmness and passion / Maybe alone / Or maybe, not / Crying, breathing, smiling / Forget everything and love / The potency of the next encounter.” Something to sit with. A breath of fresh air and reassurance accompanies “Serendipity,” and in calmness it creates spirituality by offering a meditation break in the midst of this chaotic album. “Everything Valley” closes the album with another dance song, creating a full circle back to the opening track.
After a seven-year hiatus, COVID donkey-kicked Buffalo Daughter back into the recording studio to create their newest piece of art. Always pushing themselves, BD’s newest project takes a much richer and darker approach than their previous album, Konjac-Tion, which was filled with bedroom pop and steady, prolonged beats. Buffalo Daughter’s lyricism on We Are The Times gives audiences a sympathetic nod while instrumentals offer daunting warnings and the title suggests a stern call to action, making the album a 360-degree art piece. While Buffalo Daughter has received mixed reviews in the past, what truly defines them is their attitude—they create and don’t care if people like it, making the haters, ironically, look like the silly ones.  From: https://www.slugmag.com/music/national-music-reviews/buffalo-daughter-we-are-the-times/

 

Alcest - Protection

Alcest's dreamy, shoegaze-tinged black metal takes it's next step forward on the first Spiritual Instinct single, "Protection." Spiritual Instinct marks the sixth album from the French duo and their first on Nuclear Blast Records. After taking the plunge into pure shoegaze on 2014's Shelter, Alcest returned to their roots a bit with Kodama, which was issued two years later. Here, on "Protection," they're riffier than ever as they take yet another bold musical stride.
"'Protection' is the first track I wrote for Spiritual Instinct. It’s probably one of our most heavy, spontaneous songs. It is about inner conflict, the tension between the spiritual and darker sides of a person, facing your own anguishes in order to embrace them and then fight them. Like the other tracks on the album, writing it was a very cathartic, healing process for me," described frontman Neige.
"The recording of Spiritual Instinct has been a long and challenging process, but we feel really proud of it and can't wait to share our new music with all of you," Neige said of the band's next step. "The artwork has been made by the Parisian duo Førtifem and represents a sphinx, as a reference to the symbolism art movement," he continued. "The sphinx is the ultimate figure of the enigma, which embodies both the spiritual and feral sides inside us."  From: https://loudwire.com/alcest-protection-song-spiritual-instinct-album/ 

MediaBanda - Me Enteré por Facebook

MediaBanda is a Chilean jazz fusion and progressive rock band formed in 2000 by saxophonist and composer Cristián Crisosto, a former member of the influential avant-garde group Fulano. The ensemble, featuring a multigenerational lineup, blends rock, jazz, funk, pop, and avant-garde elements into energetic, eclectic compositions that incorporate Latin rhythms such as cumbia and rumba. Over two decades, MediaBanda has released four studio albums—including Entre la Inseguridad y el Ego (2004), Dinero y Terminación Nerviosa (2007), Siendo Perro (2010), and Bombas en el Aire (2017)—alongside the 2021 tribute album Maquinarias, honoring Fulano and keyboardist Jaime Vivanco. Recognized within niche fusion and progressive scenes for its groove-driven sound and live performances, the band maintains an active presence through concerts and streaming platforms without major commercial breakthroughs or public controversies.
MediaBanda was established in 2000 in Santiago, Chile, as an experimental micro-orchestra by saxophonist and composer Cristián Crisosto and vocalist Arlette Jequier, both former members of the avant-garde group Fulano. The project's inception stemmed from Crisosto's ambition to transcend Fulano's format, incorporating a broader array of styles from pop-dance rhythms to free improvisation and chamber music elements.[5] In its early phase, the band adopted the name MediaBanda, derived from "Media Banda," a 1979 university ensemble co-founded by Crisosto, later stylized without space.[5][6] The initial lineup featured an expanded ensemble blending rock instrumentation with winds and percussion, including Crisosto on multiple saxophones and flute, Jequier on voice and clarinet, and Crisosto's daughter Regina Crisosto on vocals and marimbas.  From: https://grokipedia.com/page/mediabanda 

Secret Colours - Dream Dream

Mix a large dose of psychedelia, a heap of garage rock and a pinch of pop, and you have the recipe for Secret Colours, a sextet at the forefront of Chicago’s psych-rock scene. With Tommy Evans on lead vocals, Dave Stach on guitar, Dylan Olson on vocals, Justin Frederick on drums, Margaret Albright on background vocals, keyboard and percussion, and Nate Wiese on keyboard, rhythm guitar and percussion, the 2-year-old band has gained a spectrum of followers by playing at big-time venues like South By Southwest in Austin, Texas, and gritty do-it-yourself shows in the heart of Chicago.

The Chronicle: What’s with the name Secret Colours? Why add the “u” in there?

Dave Stach: Man, there are so many things with the name. We really like the name; then we found out there was a band in Seattle with the name “Secret Colors.” We are obsessed with Brit-Pop music like Blur, Oasis and the Heavy Mondays. Our music sounds a little bit like we could be from England, so we decided to add the “u” in there. The [other Secret Colors] doesn’t like the fact that we named the band that.

The Chronicle: Your most recent work is titled “EP3.” Why that name?

DS: The honest answer is that we had to submit the info that day in order to get it up on iTunes, and we didn’t have any good names. Last summer was insane. We ended up hooking up with Brian Deck, a world-renowned producer, engineer and musician. He’s produced all of the Iron and Wine [tracks]. We did two months with him, and he took us to a whole new level. He changed the little things that we could improve on, and it really came out freakin’ awesome. We ended coming out with an EP and a full-length [album].

The Chronicle: Who are your biggest influences?

DS: I could list off a million. The Black Angels, not only in their music, but what they do with their music. They’re the ones who started off in Psych Fest and they started their own record label called Reverberation Appreciation Society. They do a lot of good stuff for the [psychedelic] scene. [Others are] the Stone Roses, Blur, Dandy Warhols and Brian Jonestown Massacre.

The Chronicle: How do you guys maintain that ’60s psychedelic feel while making your sound modern?

DS: When you play [psychedelic] music, people will quickly dismiss you as a copy of a copy of a copy. We try to throw in our own twist. We put in our 2 cents. We take our influences, and when we write a song we never take the easy way out.

The Chronicle: What do you enjoy most about the Chicago music scene? What do you hate about it?

DS: We like that we are always surprised with the amount of bands that we haven’t heard that are just so awesome. We always have a new opener on the bill for us. That being said, the fact that there’s so much music in Chicago. It’s pretty crazy. Getting into a venue can be tough sometimes. There’s a lot of competition.

From: https://columbiachronicle.com/arts-culture/93ec0223-ac15-5aae-81ac-5d2073c45397/ 

Dis Fig - Unleash

The New Jersey-born, Berlin-based experimentalist Dis Fig’s debut album, Purge, begins with a battle cry. “Drum Fife Bugle” twists the traditional instrumentation of a military band around seasick plumes of noise, clipped gasps, and revving electronics. The melodies themselves are sprightly, but what surrounds it is terrifying. “It’s kind of a war call,” the artist, born Felicia Chen, explains via email. “Prepping you to face the battle within yourself. Arming you for the purge.”
This is a central conceit of Purge, due March 15 on the New York label PTP: that through the scrapes and static you can flush out the ugly and upsetting things that live within you, unexplored. Chen says that she generally doesn’t tend to bottle up emotions, but that with this music, she tried to reach deep within herself and access feelings that for one reason or another remained untapped. Living in Germany, she says, she felt removed from some of the problems going on back stateside, on both a personal and societal level.
“I formed a habit of pushing them aside and avoiding them,” she says. “Because they weren’t relevant in my day-to-day life, and it was easier that way. What happens then is these feelings become harder and harder to access, even when you want to reach them. It’s that internal defense mechanism that activates without consultation of your will or realization.”
So making the record was an attempt to excise some of the stress and pain that her body was holding onto—to release it all in one big go. What that means, musically, is by and large pretty ugly. Purge is the sound of industrial runoff, of sludgy instrumentation bubbling and swirling—sometimes literally, as in the case of the sickening splashes that fill “Watering.” Melodies creep through the ooze, but by and large, the record’s nine tracks consist mostly of bleak electronics. “I feel like something that’s super melodic and ‘perfectly’ written already feeds you an easily digestible story—lays it all out for you,” Chen says. “Whereas something that’s less decipherable allows more room for different feelings, which actually tells more of the full story.”
The full story, at least as Chen is willing to tell it via email, is fairly vague; she relays it more in terms of emotions than straight-up facts. While making the record, she says, she made a moodboard as a way of channeling the many disparate thoughts and feelings that were all colliding within her. She says she kept coming back to an image of a face “red hot with anger, clenching teeth, furrowed brows, and vivid tears streaming down its face.” The image expressed emotion unburdened by the expectation of how you’re supposed to comport yourself in the midst of intense feelings. Sometimes you just have to let it out.
Some of the most striking moments on PURGE echo that image in obvious ways. The lead single, “Unleash,” is a ballad of static and screaming; Chen’s voice is distorted to hell. But there are other sides to the purge too, like “Why,” which she’s debuting here today. The instrumental is still harsh and droney, but Chen sings gently, cushioned by some ghostly reverb echoing out into the darkness. Her words can be hard to make out, but she sounds centered and self-possessed, a suggestion that there is peace to be found amid the pain.
The songs on PURGE represent some of Chen’s first experiments with her own vocals on tracks. She’s best known as a DJ, mixing unforgiving electronic sets, and many of the tracks that she’s released so far have been instrumentals. It feels fitting, conceptually.. “Using my voice allows me to physically inject my being into the music,” she says. “This kind of purge was an emotional one, but it’s effect is absolutely physical as well. There’s a few tracks that don’t have lyrics, because the vocals were a first take of what just came out when I hit the record button.”
The gesture of including her voice was also, she says, a way of inviting other people in—of putting a human face on all that abstract emotion, of giving people something to identify with.  “I feel like empathy is best triggered by some sort of physicality of other human beings,” she says. “And I feel like being able to hear my voice—they won’t ever fully understand what I’m going through, but they will be able to understand for themselves what that feeling is, and it might trigger something similar within.” Harrowing as they can be, Purge’s compositional twists and turns are harsh enough to offer you the same thing that they offered Dis Fig herself—relief from the bad shit you’re holding inside. Listen to “Why” up above, and let go. It’ll help.  From: https://www.vice.com/en/article/dis-fig-purge-why-stream-interview/

 

The Beach Boys - Good Vibrations

"Good Vibrations" is a song by the American rock band the Beach Boys, produced and composed by Brian Wilson with lyrics by Mike Love and, in some published versions, by Tony Asher. Released as a single on October 10, 1966, it achieved immediate critical and commercial success. Promoted as a "pocket symphony" for its complexity and episodic structure, the record had an unprecedented production and expanded the boundaries of popular music, elevating its recognition as an art form and revolutionizing standard practices in studio recording. It is considered one of the greatest works of rock, pop, and psychedelia.
Wilson was inspired by the concept of extrasensory perception, Phil Spector's production of "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'", and recreational drugs, possibly including LSD, in creating the song. He produced dozens of music fragments (or "modules") with his bandmates and over 30 session musicians across four Hollywood studios from February to September 1966. Over 90 hours of tape were consumed, with production costs estimated in the tens of thousands of dollars, making it the costliest and longest-to-record pop single at the time. The resulting track subverted traditional songwriting conventions through its use of development, a process normally associated with classical music, and abrupt shifts in texture and mood.
One of the most influential pop recordings in history, "Good Vibrations" advanced the role of the studio as an instrument and effectively launched the progressive pop genre, heralding a wave of pop experimentation and the onset of psychedelic and progressive rock. The track incorporated a novel mix of instruments, including cello and Electro-Theremin; although the latter is not a true theremin, the song's use of the instrument spurred renewed interest in theremins and synthesizers. The flower power-inspired lyrics reinforced the Beach Boys' association with the 1960s counterculture, while the phrase "good vibes", originally a niche slang term, entered mainstream usage.  From: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Good_Vibrations

Garbage - Supervixen

SPIN: Many fans know the story of Garbage’s infamous first jam session and how poorly it went. What about that second meet-up? What changed?


Shirley Manson: They had done some homework by then … I was shocked when I got to Madison and realized what a hot mess they were. I had come from bands that were very self-disciplined. But when I got to Madison, these dudes were so laid-back, drinking beer in their Green Bay Packers baseball hats. I’d never spent time with people like that before in my life. So I was so freaked out about the first meeting, but the second one I knew what I was walking into. And they had put more of a concrete idea together; they had sketches of some songs … The two songs we worked on that day were “Vow” and “Queer.” It was the beginning of us realizing we had some things in common.

When you think back to ‘94/’95 — all that time spent making the debut album — what’s the first memory that pops up?


Sitting on an airplane, about to touch down in Madison, not having a clue where I was going or who I was going to be working with. It was both thrilling and terrifying. I think of how different I was as a person, compared to who I am now. I was so young and so afraid. And the bizarreness of coming out of Scotland and coming to America, it was such a profound experience. Especially going into the midwest. At that time, Madison was dairyland. It had the college, but it wasn’t as “cosmopolitan” even as Edinburgh. I came from an urban environment into a small American town — it was fucking wild.

At the time of writing and recording, you were totally broke, right?


I was flat broke. But I come from a very proud culture. People in America talk about money a lot. In Scotland, we don’t talk about money a lot; it’s not considered polite. But I was in Madison with pretty much zero money, and the band didn’t know that. But they did give me per diems. I didn’t immediately become a member of that band. It wasn’t until about three months in that it was, “We want you to be a full-time member of this band; we’re going to cut you in.” But for the three months preceding that I was pretty much eating once a day, at the studio at 9 o’clock at night. I was poor, walking to the studio every day, whether it was fucking minus 10 degrees or 100 degrees. And it was a pretty long way! [laughs] It’s funny to think about now, but I was utterly miserable.

Getting into the tracklist, every song on Garbage has all these layers and this intricate studio precision. Which track was most difficult to “get right?”


Probably “Supervixen.” The lyrics of that song must’ve changed about 5 million times. It literally began as a song of love, as an ode to Chris Cornell, who I was kind of obsessed with. Then it turned into a song about obsession and worship. Lyrically, it went through a lot of changes and melodies — this, that and the next thing. Also, you have these really incredible stops at the beginning of that song. Nowadays that’s so easy to replicate because we’re all recording digitally, but what’s so astounding about “Supervixen” was it was all done on analog. It was quite difficult to do when you couldn’t just flip a button.

How was “Vow” chosen as the lead single? Maybe it’s just me, but listening to the album now, it doesn’t jump out the way “Only Happy When It Rains” or “Queer” do.


Well, that’s because you’re young! The difference is 25 years ago, when you were an alternative rock band, you didn’t want to go with …like, “pop” was not a cool word. Pop has become this sort of monolith that we can’t escape. Back then, if you went out sounding like you gave a shit about being on the radio or chasing commercial success, as an alt band that would’ve been the kiss of death. When I look back now, I think “Vow” was the perfect choice. It’s a powerful statement. It’s loud, and guitars were still en vogue then, so it was fucking exciting.

Can we talk about “As Heaven Is Wide”? I love the menace of that song, the pounding drum sample and, as a guilty catholic, the biblical satire. Where did that all come from?


Truth be told, that song was written by [guitarist] Steve Marker, and Steve was such a fucking weirdo on that first record because he’d never really been in a band for any length of time before. So when he would work, we weren’t really allowed to be in the control room with him! [laughs] He would often record at night, and then we’d hear it in the morning. “As Heaven Is Wide” is one of the songs he brought in, and it’s obviously about sexual abuse at the hands of the Catholic Church. It’s a pretty fucking dark song, and the rest of the band were like, “This is amazing.” And I was a bit scared because I knew I’d be the one singing it. At the time, 25 years ago, to speak out against the Catholic Church was whoa, some heavy stuff. And I’d come from a pretty religious background: My dad is a very devoted member of the Scottish Presbyterian Church. I had a lot of angst about that, but I knew ultimately that’s what our job was, to talk about stuff that people don’t necessarily want to talk about.

The opening line of “Milk,” the album’s last song, cryptically begins, “I am milk / I am red hot kitchen.” What does that mean?


Well, I’ve always termed ‘Milk’ as a siren song. You’re trying to lure someone to you. To me, ‘I am milk’ means ‘I am your sanctuary. I am calming and comforting, come to me.’ But nobody wants a bore, so of course, you need some fire. I actually ripped that line, ‘I’m red hot kitchen’ from [poet] Michael Ondaatje’s The Collected Works of Billy The Kid. There’s a line about somebody’s throat being a red hot kitchen, and I loved that line. I thought it made for a beautiful juxtaposition. Call me crazy!
That was the first song I ever wrote from top to bottom. The guys were taking a meeting downstairs, and I was bored and learning guitar — the chords of “Milk” are really basic — and I wrote the words and melody. They asked me what I was working on, I said ‘it’s a song I wrote,’ and they said ‘it’s beautiful; let’s work on it.’ We worked on it for a few hours, and I went back to my hotel and listened to it on my Walkman cassette player nonstop for three hours. [Laughs.]

When you first started performing these songs, with all their samples and guitar stacking, which was most difficult to recreate on stage?


Butch nearly had a nervous breakdown over this because he felt it was really, really important that everything sounded as close to the record as possible. I had a much more cavalier attitude toward it since a live experience is so much different from the record anyway. I didn’t sweat it. That’s why the guys in the band versus me have always had a good chemistry because I am the complete opposite. They are very detail and tech-oriented, and I couldn’t have given less of a fuck about that. But Butch had always been sort of a tech-head anyway, so he asked around and figured it out.

From: https://www.spin.com/2020/08/shirley-manson-on-the-misery-and-magic-of-garbages-genre-stomping-debut/