Inspiration Needed.

With no new music or exciting happenings in the music world of late, it has been difficult to muster an interesting new topic to mumble on about. I’m aware that it would be incredibly dull to repeatedly harp on about the joys of losing oneself in an ever-expanding vinyl collection, or to talk about how great ‘Abbey Road’ sounds through the needle of a record player; as everyone knows this already.

To see the back of 2011, on a musical level, is no bad thing. The Brit Awards ceremony – which is coming up over the next month – is a painful reminder of exactly how little this year had to offer us in the creative stakes. Once at the forefront of exciting new music; supporting emerging bands and seizing the opportunity to promote a musical movement from the get-go, The Brits are now as beige as the musical landscape that Adele and Ed Sheeran so drearily cast with their every note. While this year sees Noel Gallagher and Blur return to the stage, their presence merely helps to highlight that we are no longer in the creative golden age that they were once a part of. In the 1990s alone, The Brit Awards offered such memorable moments as Jarvis Cocker vs. Michael Jackson, Brett Anderson’s effeminate swagger into the imagination of the nation, not to mention Geri Halliwell in that dress. So then why is it there's not a single memorable or scandalous tale surrounding the whole event in the last ten years? Surely accruing all of our musical talent – rock star egos and drug addictions included – into one big room together is enough to cause some kind of outrageous outcome? Or perhaps the slow roll of the tumbleweed speaks more evidently of the unimaginative, in-bed-before-10pm nature of our successful musicians today.

The Horrors album ‘Skying’ seems to offer the only promising glimmer of hope in terms of the output of new young bands (however, I use the term ‘new’ loosely, due to this being their third release – but with little else currently emerging they are comparatively fresh, with everyone else of note having been around for at least ten years now). The Horrors’ throwback to a cobweb infested corner of the 80s reminds us of a time when musicians actually had personality and more interesting topics to sing about than lego or pavements.

Ed Sheeran : The face of new music?

While one despairs at the lack of music shows on television in 2012, or perhaps more upsettingly – an absence of demand for them – it remains to be asked how exactly we would fill a thirty minute episode of Top of the Pops each week, if that was even a possibility. Short of giving David Guetta a guest DJ spot or having Lady Gaga and Rihanna’s videos on constant loop, I don’t think there would be a lot else on offer. Resultantly, nostalgia for the Top of the Pops of yesteryear, along with The Tube and The Old Grey Whistle Test now cuts deeper than ever… a longing for a time when there was an actual vested interest in new music and fresh talent, and people yearned to see a more personal side to their idols than what can be read in a ten minute scan of Wikipedia. At least Jools Holland does his bit with the only credible music show on television; the performances on which are often truly breath-taking; but destined to forever take the graveyard shift on BBC2, it is never going to recapture the lost audience of the Friday at 7.30pm slot.

To further fuel the fire of musical depreciation, whilst spending a brief ten minutes in Topshop yesterday, I noticed that they are currently selling a big grey jumper with the ‘Abbey Road’ cover photo printed on to the front. This angers me, in much the same way as it does to see David Bowie or Bob Dylan’s most ‘career defining’ image printed across cheap cotton and being sold by highstreet chains to an audience who probably know nothing about said artists, but just wish to appear as the more interesting one at a party who really ‘digs music’. Such statements I say with confidence, as I know full well that anyone who was truly a fan of their music would avoid these garments by a country mile.

Meanwhile, the festival headliners circuit is restricted to a select ten bands or so who find themselves on heavy rotation across the multitude of festivals that now lace our summer months. While great and financially rewarding for those bands who have reached the inner loop, it does mean a bit of a drag for anyone who chooses to go to more than one festival per season, and begs the question as to how or when any new bands will find themselves ascending far enough up the ranks to be deemed worthy of entering this honorary club of untouchables. By the age of twenty-three, I presumed I would be watching on as my peers were the ones taking the musical world by storm, headlining festivals and leading a new hype or movement within the business, however it is now incredibly rare for anyone under the age of thirty, or any band who has been around for less than ten years, to really cause a stir in what has now become a largely middle-aged business.

One thing is for sure; at a time when society is in turmoil and creativity finds itself suffering a devastating drought, nostalgia’s hypnotic lure is at its most powerful. While a longing for the 60s and 70s has for a long time been prevalent, in 2012 one even looks back on the contagious vigour and comparative optimism of the 1990s as something incredibly enviable. Watching Pulp’s energetic performance of Common People on Top of the Pops from 1995, it is hard not to wish that we could be back there, when the Britpop movement was instilling a sense of national pride and there was a widespread belief within youth culture that we were on the brink of once again ruling the world in a contemporary reworking of the 60s British invasion.

To further demonstrate this point, HMV have recently announced that while they are enduring losses in the sale of new music and DVDs, they will now be placing a heavier focus on stocking a wider variety of vinyl across many of their stores, as this is now the medium that people are choosing to spend their money on in an attempt to recapture the magic of the bygone era that vinyl so wonderfully provided the soundtrack to.

I am aware that this entry has been particularly scornful and perhaps places a little too much emphasis on negative aspects of the music industry; it is purely because I find the present state of affairs to be so damn frustrating. Perhaps the most irritating thing of all, is that when someone exciting or genuinely unique does emerge on the scene, appreciation for them is somewhat non-existent as the public now are more eager to spend their money on sampled, generic dance tunes which seem to tick a box on first listen and don’t ask any more of their audience. The zest for music or something new and stimulating to treat our ears and minds with, was clearly lacking in 2011, and all I can hope for is that once we’ve got the bitter reminder that is the Brit Awards out of the way, 2012 can get busy with producing something for young people in Britain to actually get excited about. And maybe then, I can stop with the bitchin’ blog posts.

Here is Jarvis Cocker sorting it out for a generation of hungry music fans in 1995, when people actually used to care :

New Is Good Too.

Having spent the last few posts discussing and praising ways-of-old in the music industry, I would hate to give the impression that there is little to be excited about in 2011, as this would clearly be some dirty propaganda in my campaign to get everyone to revert the world to 1968 (and quite frankly, it just isn’t true).

There is an incredible amount of exciting and brilliant music around today, and one of the brightest, shiniest and most glittering stars – it has to be said – is Mr Patrick Wolf. Despite ten years having passed since his first album was released, the public – whose affections for the star seem to ebb and flow depending on the weather – appear to have half-heartedly climbed back on board for his latest album release; ‘Lupercalia’. It says a lot of Patrick Wolf that he can credibly be considered reminiscent of Bowie in various ways; including a penchant for avant-garde fashion endeavours, a sexual ambiguity that has kept people guessing and a voracious desire to repeatedly transform and redevelop a new sound for each new music offering – all the while maintaining something indefinable which renders them instantly recognisable. Perhaps their most striking resemblance however, is their possession of an unfathomable and almost otherworldly amount of talent, one which they almost seem to be channelling from galaxies invisible to us mere mortals.

  

From the cleanly tailored dove-white outfit on the album sleeve to the opening majors of the first track; ‘The City’, it is irrefutably apparent that this album is going to be a far cry from Wolf’s sinister and brooding 2009 offering – ‘The Bachelor’. An album full of songs laced with dark eccentricity, intricate ideas and observations of a world in turmoil; coated in a rich layer of organ, violin and any number of instruments that Wolf is able to turn his hand to. As such, it is hard to believe that ‘The Bachelor’ and ‘Lupercalia’ were ever intended to be a double album, unless released under a concept of polar opposites.

With each album that Wolf releases, it is easy to fall into the trap of believing that this will surely be the one that finally elevates him into the musical lap of the gods - rightfully claiming a place which has been reserved for years. However, while 'Lupercalia' may have shown promising signs of such a feat, it seems again to have mainly fallen on the ears of his loyal fan base, never quite making the leap to arena fodder, but ensuring packed theatres and small venues up and down the country whenever he honours them with his presence. While it is a crying shame that such a gifted and charismatic performer does not get to tread the boards of larger venues, it also makes him the nation’s best kept secret, providing his fans with an intimacy and relationship that serves Wolf very well.

With ‘Lupercalia’, we find Patrick Wolf back to his optimistic best, and upon listening to this album it is impossible not to rejoice in the happiness that he has clearly found in his own life over the past few years. Full of hearty defiance that love shall survive and conquer all, it would be hard to find a more positive and content set of lyrics, and indeed a more positive or content man; as one discovers when watching any performance on his accompanying tour. Bounding around a stage laden with harps and all manner of string instruments like a magical pixie, singing to raise the roof whilst parading the biggest and most genuine of smiles throughout the entire show, there is no doubt that this is a man with something to smile about.

Perhaps the most notable achievement of Patrick Wolf on this album, is his absolute triumph in writing the most optimistic and inspirational break-up song in the history of music. ‘Time Of My Life’ is incredible, and the positive spin which he places upon what is potentially one of the most depressing and difficult occurrences - the end of a relationship – is inspiring;

From the east to the south

I tongue the roof of my mouth 

To new days of doubt without you 

First gear, I face the trouble ahead 

Final word has been said 

Long distance spread between us 

I tell myself to 

Hold on, won’t be long 

Till I grow through this struggle

Time to wake up, find my soul

Happy without you 

We go on

Heart beats strong

Still whole 

Unbroken 

As we divide 

Our love goodbye 

Thanks for, the time 

Time of my life

This is undoubtedly a song that each and everyone should hold fast to in their arsenal of motivational and invigorating music for when things get tough, as before you know it, ‘Time Of My Life’ will have you, not just back on your feet, but dancing in the ambience of it’s infectious optimism.

The rest of the album carries on in much of the same vain, and even when Wolf threatens to show signs of a bleaker sound, such as the beginning of ‘Together’ or in ‘The Days’, it does not last long before we’re returned to the defiant, shouting-my-love-from-the-rooftops sounds of ‘Lupercalia’. Uplifting strings, thumping drums and delicate piano often revealing the warm sentiments, even in songs which could be considered more subdued.

While an album of brilliance certainly, I cannot pass without questioning whether forty-one minutes and three seconds of uplifting electro-pop provides the listener with enough of a well-rounded sensory experience. The consistency in emotion may be admirable, however what Wolf has failed to do here unlike his most comparable album to date – 2007’s ‘The Magic Position’ – is touch on the dizzying heights of euphoric contentment as well as the inevitable accompanying lows. This is perhaps why, despite the absolute joy that can be derived from witnessing Patrick Wolf as a beautifully at ease human being who has found happiness and inner peace in all that surrounds him, even as a true fan you find yourself thinking that all we need now is a break up album to get him back to his gutsy best (closely followed by a return to happiness, of course.)

Here is ‘Time Of My Life’ :

Patrick Wolf - Lupercalia

2011 Mercury Records