Ke$ha Interview- The Irish Independent (8 January 2010)

Touted as the ‘next Lady Gaga’, Ke$ha has been burning up the pop charts ever since guesting on ‘Right Round’ with Flo Rida in August 2009. The exposure given to her by the collaboration, combined with her spot-on pop sensibility lead to her toppling the Lady herself in Australia- knocking ‘Bad Romance’ off the number one spot with her solo debut- ‘Tik Tok’.

As I wait to speak to her in a hotel room, PRs and hotel staff bustle back and forth, whispering- “do you think she’d prefer diet or regular Coke”- trying to perfectly arrange a stack of fresh fruit, while keeping an eye on the door. In walks a tall, barefoot blonde wearing raggedy jean-shorts and an entire disco’s worth of glitter. I was expecting a pampered diva. Instead, Ke$ha is a bona fide pop star, and as real as they get.

“Do I have a boyfriend at the moment? Hell no. HELLLLL NO. Guys are a pain in the ass. I did have a boyfriend back in L.A, but he cheated on me. All I want is a little respect. But, you know what, it’s funny. I think a pop song is the perfect revenge. I definitely wrote about this douchebag on this record.” Curled up on a sofa, the 22 year old is sipping a green tea and dissing those who’ve done her wrong.

A past boyfriend? He becomes a track on her new album- ‘Animal’. She bursts into song, eagerly reaching across for my dictaphone- “I’m going to sing you the verse because it’s funny- “Listen to yourself, you’re a hot mess/ You st-st-stutter through your words breaking a sweat/ What it’s going to take to confess/ What we both know/ I was out of town last weekend/ You were feeling like a pimp round your lame friends/ Now we both know where it’s gonna end/ So here we go/ Baby you shouldn’t kiss and tell”. Because then he told his friends, and they told me!”

Based mainly on her own life experiences, it’s a record about love, dancing and having a good time. Ke$ha co-wrote every track and feels that it’s almost like a diary of her time living in L.A. and of the people that she met-“My record is so autobiographical. It’s 100% real. My friends don’t mind- they just don’t cross me. People that piss me off, there’s probably a song on my record about them. ‘Backstabber’, that character Jeanie is a real person. She heard the song, she was pissed.” But enough of the present- let’s go to the past, and find out exactly how Ke$ha got to where she is now.

“Singing is all I can do. I can’t do anything else. When I was little, I was just screaming and annoying everyone. I was a total nightmare until I was like 17, and then it became lucrative.” Born Kesha Rose Sebert to a single parent, in L.A., Ke$ha moved to Nashville as a young child. Then, aged 17, things suddenly changed. Ke$ha has a history of giving her demos to anyone and everyone- her most famous escapade involves her breaking into Prince’s house to personally deliver one of her CDs!

However, one of her demos found its way to Swedish hitmakers Max Martin (Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys) and Dr Luke (Katy Perry, Missy Elliot) and the rest, as they say, is history. Ke$ha still can’t really believe how things turned out- “Dude, Dr Luke and Max Martin called me! They got my demo through a friend of a friend, and they called me from Sweden. I’ve been to Sweden three times to work with Max, and he’s a really close friend. Luke is like, my brother. They’re so immensely talented. When they called me, I was like- what?”

She moved back to L.A. and began to write songs for other artists as well as herself – including Miley Cyrus and the Veronicas, waiting tables in between songwriting gigs (apparently “It sucked so bad. Waiting tables- I did it for years. I had to. I’m so happy that people like my songs enough that I don’t have to wait tables any more. I did a little bit of telemarketing for like a second. I’m so bad at doing anything that’s not music.”) Although she was writing with the hottest producers in pop, it was a difficult time- personally, and professionally.

She sits up, reminiscing- “It was just a long process. If anybody thinks that it’s going to happen without putting in some serious hard work, they’re totally wrong.” The most difficult thing she had to face was keeping hold of who she was, and who she wanted to be. She slumps again, pauses and continues- “I think the hardest thing was not losing track of exactly what you’re doing. L.A. is a weird city. Filled with weird people. The music business is full of haters, and a lot of ‘No’s’. Like, everyone’s going to tell you ‘no, you’re too this, you’re too that’. You’ve got to keep touch with who you are, and know who you are. It takes a strong person to do this kind of stuff, because people can be so cruel.”

Despondent? Self-indulgent? That’s not our girl. She reflects, and then shrugs the haters off-
“I’ve been thinking about it recently, because of what I do, and people just like to hate on stuff. I’ve been trying really hard not to be like that. It’s all about making music, it’s not brain surgery.” Lively as lion cub, when asked which artist she would most want to be like, she answers, in all seriousness- “Keith Richards. And anyone else who was a singer, and then turned into a pirate. Oh! Gwen Stefani too. She’s dope.”

Her appeal lies in how L.A. and fame haven’t- and won’t ever- changed who she is. During a recent European press tour, she was bombarded by paparazzi. Her response? “And I was like, why do you want a picture of me so bad? I’m not that interesting. I’m literally sitting in a van. The headline would be ‘Ke$ha in Van. Sitting’.” While shooting the video for ‘Tik-Tok’, stylists didn’t interest her. “Those are all my clothes in the video. They were like “do you wanna wear this?” and I was like “no, I want to wear shorts and a t-shirt”. That’s all I want to wear. It’s totally not contrived. I look like a bum all the time.”

This hippy-dippy good karma schtick could grate, if her enthusiasm wasn’t so infectious. All she wants is happiness and music. And perhaps a JD and Coke at the bar. Amidst all the chat of faux-celebrities and fame whores, she calls a time out, and explains- “This girl came up to me last night, and said that her boyfriend died and the only thing that makes her happy right now is my song (‘Tik-Tok’). I want to make people happy. That’s what I’m in it for. But there are a lot of people who can’t write, and they can sing. As long as it’s positive energy out in the universe, whatever you’re doing is fine by me.” The next Gaga? Not particularly. The first Ke$ha? Definitely.

Night Watch: Irish Independent December 11th 2009

Click to enlarge.

Florence and the Machine: The Irish Independent 4th December 2009

Florence of the flaming hair. Florence of the Mercury Prize nomination. Florence of the Machine. Florence Welch, standing six-feet tall, is an editor’s dream.

And this has certainly been her year. Lungs, her debut album, has been certified platinum, and she has promised to have a follow-up out by the end of 2010.

A full schedule has left her tired, but still engaged and fond of lively debate. Articulate and a swift thinker, a quip on The Irish Independent’s part about the recent X Factor live final develops into a conversation about television in general, with Florence taking the lead.

“Don deLillo said something funny about television. He said the way to avoid the fear of death is to watch a lot of television. I was thinking about that when I was on a plane, and you know the way there are loads of televisions on planes. There was loads of turbulence, and I’m terrified of flying. I found that if I watched the telly, it would sort of numb my fears a little bit. Television really switches you off. Maybe if I just sat around and just watched television, I’d be a lot happier and not so afraid or nervous,” she concludes merrily, before admitting excitedly that “I love Come Dine With Me so much.”

Interesting. Would she like to go on the show? “No, the cameras in the house would be annoying. Mind you, I’d like to organise one with my friends. We were going to do ‘Indie Come Dine With Me’, and have people from the Horrors, The Maccabees and Big Pink. What would I cook? Maybe a fish stew and lots of salads and stuff. Starter, I would probably have a selection of pitta breads and dips. For dessert, I’d just have cheese. I’m not that much of a puddings person. I’d get a nice selection of vinyl, some old blues records.”

Appearances on cookery competitions aside, Florence’s star has risen almightily over the past year. Touring the globe, including a recent sold-out show at the Bowery Ballroom in New York, Florence has charmed the world. This is due in part to her raucous live shows, which showcase her fondness for climbing the riggings and her idiosyncratic dress sense. This ranges from gothic black lace, to checkered plus-fours, to a Jetson’s-inspired green and gold leotard for a Bestival performance.

The looks may be dramatic, but they’re all her own. “I’m not really a pop star. I don’t have a hairdresser or a make-up artist or anything on tour with me. The secret’s out! I do it all myself.” It’s all a far cry from her early gigging days where “on the NME tour, we once had a kitchen as a dressing room. There were four other bands, and we were always the first one on. So, if there was a tiny dressing room to be had, we were in it. But one time, there wasn’t even a dressing room — we just had a kitchen”.

Now the darling of the fashion crowd, how does she feel about the ‘How to Dress Like Florence’ features appearing in ladies’ magazines? She giggles. “I honestly don’t know. I look maybe like I’ve fallen out of a jumble sale. I’m interested in clothes and fashion, so it’s nice to be part of that. I am mainly interested in the art aspect of it, the kind of fantasy of fashion. I’m flattered, I suppose.”

It wasn’t always so, however. By her own admittance, it’s only recently that Florence has become used to her startling looks, and leggy physique. “I was like a really awkward, 13 to 16-year-old. Bad hair, chubby, slightly uncomfortable with my body. And then I got quite tall and everything stretched itself out, but I was quite an uncomfortable child. Not pretty really. You know you have those girls at school who are already beautiful when they’re 12 years old, but I was not one of those girls.

“It worked out for the best in the end though”, she concludes. “I think maybe being like that, it encourages you to develop your own sense of reality. Maybe you want something different, maybe you don’t want to be the same as everyone else and you run off into strange places… I’d rather be different. I wouldn’t say it’s a conscious effort, but I don’t think I could ever try to be normal.”

‘Normal’ certainly isn’t a common word in Florence’s vocabulary. Her mother Evelyn Welch frequented Studio 54 in its heyday (although “My mum doesn’t really talk about her experiences in Studio 54. She was more of a voyeur”), before moving to London to focus on academia.

Diagnosed with dyslexia and dysmetria when she was younger and suffering from ongoing sleep paralysis — “I have it when I’m tired or stressed, or over-tired. My body just keeps me on overdrive. I’m just dreaming loads. I can’t quite sleep in a dark room by myself, because I’m always imagining something creeping in the dark corner, or looking through the window” — Florence uses music as a shield, as a screen through which to understand the world.

“Art is my way of understanding something about myself or something about the world. It’s through songwriting that I can do that. It means that without saying it directly, you can express something personal, but without leaving yourself so exposed. With me, especially, I think I hide a lot behind things I create. It allows me to get something off my chest without letting the cat out of the bag.”

Despite further probing, she refuses to name specific characters or instances thathave directly influenced her songs, and verbally retreats into imagination and fantasy. “A lot of my thinking is so deeply entrenched in fantasy that I can’t quite be sure what is real and what’s not. I’m often not quite sure if I’m just exploring darker aspects of my psyche or nightmarish visions, and it’s not actually anything to do with anyone.”

She pauses, before adding firmly: “I like to focus on the dark recesses of my nightmares, rather than on specific boys.” With that, the subject is closed. Thoughtful, witty and simultaneously secretive and open, Florence remains as much of a delightful enigma as she began. ‘Normal’ she may never be. But, despite her protestations, a pop star she certainly is.

- Ailbhe Malone

Rihanna: Rated R (NME 25 Nov 2009)

Rihanna
Rated R
Universal

7/10

Before we begin, let’s get this straight :This is not a record about Chris Brown. It is a record influenced by Chris Brown, but it’s not about him. In a recent interview with Radio 1, Rihanna explained that going into the studio “it kind of was my peace and it was my place to vent.” See that possessive adjective? As the title suggests, Rated R is a record about Rihanna.

The lead single- ‘Russian Roulette’- sets the agenda. Rated R is an LP about the balance of power, and control. With only one other female songwriter apart from Rihanna (Ester Dean- ‘Rude Boy’) it’s a startlingly masculine record- in sound, and in attitude. Sexuality is represented as aggressive, or reflective- always passionate. On ‘Firebomb’ Rihanna sings of burning her lover to death- just so he can feel as she does. Meanwhile, the Justin Timberlake-penned ‘Cold Case Love’ is a melancholic and mature farewell to a failed relationship. ‘Wait Your Turn’ is an electric backstreet stiletto stab, where- eyebrow cocked- Rihanna sings ‘I’m such a fucking lady/ You don’t have to be afraid’, and on ‘Rude Boy’ Rihanna explicitly explains how she likes her men in bed. Even the ballad ‘Te Amo’ (which harks back to ‘Music of the Sun’) is sung from a male perspective, placing Rihanna as the male who can’t commit to love, rather than as the woman who is clinging to an unrealistic ideal. Though Jay-Z wasn’t involved in the production of the record, his influence is tangible. On ‘Hard’, Rihanna echoes his internal rhymes in her intonation- ‘‘Brilliant, resilient, fan mail from twenty-seven million’- and her swagger on tracks such as ‘Rock Star’ (featuring Slash!) owes a lot to Hova.

Despite the abundance of male influence on the record- from ex-boyfriend, to songwriters, to producers, to mentors- Rihanna makes the sound her own, and fights back. On ‘G4L‘ she calls for an army of women, in solidarity- “Girls, girls come on we ain’t done yet/ Gotta lot to handle/ We ain’t take over the world yet/ Guns in the air”. Never exploited, and totally in control, the sultry sexbomb of ‘Good Girl Gone Bad’ is now a siren on the rocks- dangerous, self-aware and with a clan behind her. Empowered but not embittered, Rihanna turns her back on love. Ailbhe Malone

DOWNLOAD: ‘Hard’ ‘Wait Your Turn’

Sufjan Stevens: AU Magazine- December 2009

Sufjan Stevens: The Quiet American

“I am an American, Chicago born- Chicago, that sombre city- and go at things as I have taught myself, free-style, and will make the record in my own way.” So speaks Saul Bellow’s most famous protagonist- Augie March. So speaks Sufjan Stevens. Well, not literally, but he could have. Stevens is the voice of new America. Unsure yet confident, anxieties and ambitions intermingle. His speech alternates between new-age mysticism and deadpan technical terms. He is modern and old-fashioned both. A push-me-pull-you of ideas and sounds- if nothing else, Sufjan Stevens has always made the record in his own way.

Born in Michigan, in 1975, Stevens was once described as having “an impeccable sense of history’. Grandiose as a statement as that is, it touches on something like the truth. The ‘most perfect thing’ Stevens has ever seen was a structure that combined the banal with the overawing- in which day to day life was enclosed by millenia -“I remember seeing a glacier in the alps in Switzerland, and being in awe. It was a phenemonlogical experience. I hadn’t really seen a glacier before, and there was something really immense and mammoth about it. It was perfect, in the sense of the span of time- centuries and millenia contained in these glaciers. And we were at the edge of the glacier- it felt monumental and historical, even though it’s just a collection of frozen water.” Instead than having an ‘impeccable sense of history’, rather, he has an overwhelming sense of perspective.
He deliberates over each answer, picking the correct phrase to use. His favourite song? “My favourite song? That’s too difficult. An ‘inexhaustible song’ is better. I like Dido’s lament from the opera Dido and Aeneas. It’s an opera for kids, so it’s not too sophisticated. It’s her last song before death, before she transpires. It’s beautiful, and it’s a song. It has verse chorus verse chorus. It’s probably the most melancholy dirge I’ve ever heard.”

Stevens remains one of the more enigmatic stalwarts of the new folk scene. Reluctant to speak about either his faith, or his sexuality, in great depth, his prolific musical output is often over-interpreted, instead of being left to speak for itself. Lyrics become twisted, the author and character become confused. So, Sufjan’s stopped singing. At least for the time being- “It’s kind of taken a hiatus from that. It’s somewhat self-imposed, after having so many so records. And you know, I’ve always been interested in arrangements and instrumental music. A lot of my records have little transitional musical instrumental sections. So, I thought for the BQE especially, that it would be nice to do a non-narrative, non-literal approach.” ‘The BQE’ is an entirely orchestral score for a short film that Stevens made of the Brooklyn Queens Expressway. The BQE isn’t glamorous. It’s a motorway that goes from- here’s a shocker- Brooklyn to Queens. The film is shot in Super 8 film, and while Stevens doesn’t exactly make the Expressway look appealing, neither does he bemoan its functionality. The real star of the show, argues Sufjan, isn’t the swooping score- it’s the movie. “With the BQE the music is accompanying the film, so I almost think the music is secondary to that project, that the film is the primary art form. The film is centre-stage, and the music is just an accompaniment.” In his opinion, is songwriting a selfish process? He deliberates, “I think for a song-writer, it can be self-centred. But it’s a social phenomenon. So, you often share it with others, you play music with others, so, in that way, it’s very giving. But I think that because it’s a mysterious phenonemon, it definitely indicates to an exterior supernatural thing, outside of yourself. I mean, with the laws of physics and soundwaves, music exists, so it does have meaning outside of the experience of a human being.” He continues- “ But I think that the imperative behind songwriting can be a selfish impulse. It’s a little bit self-interested. It’s based around a personal experience and sharing that personal experience. That to me, seems a little bit selfish. I don’t think it matters though, because the music itself, as a transcendent art form has remarkable redeeming qualities.” The premise of literally bursting with music is a terrifying one- to feel as though, as Stevens says “music is exterior to me”. To have an output that one cannot entirely control must be unsettling at least, and overwhelming at most. How does he cope? Up until recently, he didn’t. “Lately, because I haven’t written songs in a while, and I’ve been taking a hiatus, and been thinking more existentially about music, and less practically about music. But, it can create an obstacle and unnecessary anxieties that I don’t know are very fruitful to meditate on. Kind of the meaning of music- what it a song, what is an album, why do we share this? I can see what was interesting about that, but at some point you need to just do it. Even though I have these anxieties about the perceptions of music, I still believe that music is exterior to me. I can relinquish it.”

From the off, Stevens has always found comfort as well as a stimulus in patterns. This applies to most things in his work- from the series of songs he wrote about days of the week while in university (“Poor Monday!”) to his current obsession with… hula-hooping. The film of the BQE features of trio of whirlybird hula-hooping girls- one of which is a friend of Sufjan’s-“The main one is a friend of mine, and she’s been hula hooping for a few years, and she invited me to a hoop class at the YMCA on 14th St in New York. I started to learn a little bit of hooping. Here it’s not so much like a game, it’s more like Yoga. It’s kind of a mix of dance and meditation and athletics. And, there’s a whole bizarre sub-culture of hoopers in the States. A lot of adults are doing it now. It’s becoming a fad.” What appeal does it hold for the singer? “What I like about it is that it’s very insular, dance can feel very extroverted, like you’re performing. But with hooping, you’re focusing on an object, like on a particular object around your body. It gives you a focal point to start from. You can just meditate on this plastic hoop as it moves around your body. It’s exterior to you, but it revolves around you. It keeps you grounded, but you don’t feel self-conscious when you’re hooping, as opposed to dancing. It’s pretty amazing.” With patterns in mind, Sufjan is taking a step back from the project that has defined his career thus far. In the space of six years, The 50 States Project has produced two full albums, one offcuts LP, and some of the finest songs of this decade. Yet, Stevens isn’t sure if he wants to continue. “I think you have to understand that that kind of proposition is completely speculative and hyperbolic. It was initially very self-promotional, it was a publicity stunt. It wasn’t meant to be taken that seriously. It’s sort of based on the aesthetics of a barker at a fair, or an announcer at the circus. It’s all heightened language.” Stevens has oscillated before about the project. The above statement is neither a denial or a confirmation of the project, more a clause of sorts. While the process interests him, the way that people have reacted to it appeals to him even more- “It is really interesting, and it says a lot about how literal we are as a society. There’s very little room for understanding things in a mystical or metaphorical language. I think that there are so many other things to focus on.”

When Stevens was writing ‘Illinois’, he considered writing a song about Saul Bellow, but abandoned the premise, as Bellow was too ‘cumbersome’ an idea. In closing, AU mentions Augie March to Stevens. The Adventures of Augie March is a picaresque novel that embraces the power of an imagined America, but is also wary of the alienating forces of such a concept. It celebrates ‘attempts’, and factotums. In particular, the final paragraph of the novel notes that a failed attempt is an attempt nonetheless. Overall, the process is more important than an end result. Does Sufjan agree? “Yes. Exactly. Interestingly, today is Columbus day. The story of Columbus is a story of hyperbolic speculation. The whole venture of discovery and colonialism is all specualtive. It’s always been about process, and not product. The Vikings were the first Europeans to land in North America, and it was sort of a misadventure. A failed experiment, because they didn’t actually colonize anything. I think a lot of creative endeavours are definitely a similar phenomena.”
A ‘failed experiment’ is an experiment all the same. And even if the 50 States Project is never completed, that doesn’t mean that it cannot be. As someone more eloquent than AU once said, America was built on uncompleted projects and lofty aspirations- “Why, I am a sort of Columbus of those near-at-hand and believe you can come to them in this immediate terra incognita that spreads out in every gaze. I may well be a flop at this line of endeavour. Columbus too, thought he was a flop, probably, when they send him back in chains. Which didn’t prove there was no America”. Augies’s words, again. But ones which Stevens could have spoken, or sung. For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti, for John Wayne Gacy, Jr, Stevens too sings America. Ailbhe Malone

Chipmunk: The Irish Independent- 16 October 2009

New chip on the block

‘I want to be here when I’m 50. I want to be like Jay-Z. He’s 40, that’s a lot of years on me!” Old man Hova best move his cane along, there’s a new mogul in town. In 2008, Jahmaal Fyffe won the Best UK Newcomer at the MOBO awards. This year, he beat both Kanye West and Eminem to the Best Hip-Hop Act. He’s recorded with Kelis, Basement Jaxx, N-Dubz and Elton John. And he’s only 18. Ladies and gents, meet Chipmunk.

Born in Tottenham, London, in 1990, Chipmunk picked up the microphone for the first time at the age of just 14. A series of mixtapes and spots on pirate radio brought him to the attention of Wiley (of Wearing My Rolex fame) and by age 17, the young’un was playing alongside Wiley at festivals including the prestigious Dour in Belgium. Then he stopped.

Unwilling to be known as Wiley’s protege, Chipmunk decided to strike out on his own. While doing his A-levels at the same time. How on earth did he manage? Chip laughs as he explains. “The past two years have been the hardest thing. It’s non-stop work. You finish a gig around 12, and then you get back home, and you’re onto the next venue. And then you get up the next morning and do interviews.” So far, so business-like, until the 18 year old adds. “Ah, man, and studying was the worst. I can’t even tell you how.”

If nothing else, Chipmunk is focused. A single word is tattooed on each of his hands: ‘Achieve’ on his left and ‘Believe’ on his right. Though he’s grassroots British grime, Chip’s self-belief and mantras are all-American. His Norf London chirp is littered with phrases including “Make the impossible possible”, and his swagger makes Diddy look Peig Sayers-humble. “I’ve got a clothing line just out, and I’ve got my own label, but I haven’t launched it yet. It’s called Cash Motivation. I’m trying to build an empire. I don’t want to have anyone else’s career in 10 years time, I want my own career to be the best. I want to elevate the game.”

He’s sharp enough to note that bravado and persona are two different things, however. While talent is what sells records, charisma is what makes people turn the radio up. “All of my character, my persona, my swagger, it’s all part of what draws people in. If they have their TV on mute, your swagger is what’s going to make people take it off mute and listen. Or, if your song is on the radio, people will hear your persona and your character shining through.”

Swagger aside, the kid’s a born diplomat. His response to Kanye-Gate? “Would I ever do what Kanye did at the VMAs? No, but without people like Kanye, the industry would be boring.” He manoueuvres a conversation about Eminem’s lacklustre new album into one about his own career. “What he can do with his voice is amazing; not many people can do what he does. But, as for me, I’m going to try to stay focused and develop into a bigger artist.” Lady Gaga? He’s a fan. But urges us to talk less about her, more about him. “Gaga is very unique and specific to Gaga. She’s influenced a lot of people in the way she dresses and with her music. I think I’ve been doing the same thing.”

From age 15 to 17, Chip admits that, “I did get an awful lot done,” then adds, “in the two years between 17 and 19 I’m going to take it even further.” There’s no doubt that he will. Of the three singles that he has released so far, two of them have been in the Top 3.

A mixture of garage, dancehall and hip-hop, grime is a niche genre in the UK. It’s choppy, punchy and fast, and up until Dizzee Rascal, not exactly chart-topping stuff. Part of Chipmunk’s mainstream success stems from his melange of grime, American hip-hop, and r&b. Does he feel obliged to acknowledge his grime niche roots? Of course not. The kid wants to move up and out. “I began from making mixtapes, and now the more that artists collaborate, the more the genres cross-pollinate. I feel music isn’t as specific anymore, a good song is a good song.”

With album I Am Chipmunk released this week, he’s realistic about record sales, explaining that “it’s important that your fans understand what will happen if they buy your music rather than download for free. If they understand, they should buy my music, I can get Top 10 and then you can see my video, you know what I mean? Otherwise, kids will just do what kids do. You’ve got no money, Limewire’s around the corner, I’m not saying it’s a good thing, but I understand why. But, I’m going to be a superstar and try my hardest, and they can help me get to my destination by buying my single.”

For someone who comes from such a British background but who has such American ambition, the logical plan is to conquer both markets.

“I reckon over here we respect the Americans’ music a bit more than they respect us, but time will tell. Someone needs to go over there and wake them up properly. That’s going to be my job,” he states, with the blissful confidence of youth and talent.

In the meantime, before total world-domination, there are going to be a “few big collaborations in the pipeline”, but Chip’s lips are firmly closed shut. “I can’t reveal any of the details. I can’t even give you a clue. I’m not allowed, I’d be in big trouble.”

Alongside releasing a new single, Oopsy Daisy, he’s supporting Tinchy Strider on a UK arena tour until December. He might also go to university at some stage, but he’s “good for now. I’ll wait until I’ve put out a few more albums, man”. Is there anything missing from Mr ‘Munk’s mission to ‘believe and achieve’? Only one thing, for the time being. “If I’m going to be bigger than Jay-Z, I need a Beyonce. There isn’t one in this country, though. I need to find one for real!”

I Am Chipmunk is out now.

- Ailbhe Malone

Annie- Don’t Stop: NME 17 October 2009

Annie
Don’t Stop
Smalltown Supersound Records
8/10

This is the story of the record that waited. In limbo since Annie’s split with Island Records last November, Don’t Stop has been hanging around in various forms for almost a year. The lead single has been switched more times than a Sugababes member (it currently rests at ‘Songs Remind Me of You’) and the track listing has been mercurial (a version of ‘Two of Hearts’ has been lost. Moment of silence, please). But, oh boy, was it worth the wait. Though production is split three ways between Xenomania, Paul Epworth and Timo Kaukolampi, the record is all Annie’s own. On ‘I Don’t Like Your Band’, her m-annie-festo (ahem) is laid out for all to hear- “You gotta ditch your instruments/ And start it up again/ Buy yourself a sequencer/ And then let the games begin”- before she begins to prove her point. ‘My Love is Better’ is a room-crossing lipgloss swagger. Initially it had Girls Aloud doing backing vocals, but this was altered as the world ultimately decided that such a combination of amazingness would cause the galaxy to explode. Elsewhere, ‘Marie Cherie’ is a Coppolla-atmospheric tale of a little-girl-lost, with a lazy samba beat, and the final two tracks -‘When the Night’ and ‘Heaven and Hell’ find our protagonist in lovelorn form. A heart of glass is smashed. Or not. With a record this good, how could a boy bring her down? True to form, on ‘Heaven and Hell’, Annie sings- “Tell me, tell me what did I do wrong?/ Oh baby, I am perfect”. Attagirl. Ailbhe Malone

DOWNLOAD: 1) I Don’t Like Your Band, 2) My Love is Better, 3) Songs Remind Me of You.

Bestival 2009: NME 23rd October 2009

Bestival 2009
Bestival is on a slope. All of it. It should be called Bestiv-hill (Oy vey!) The newly-moved main stage stands atop the hill, veering manically downwards. This makes things difficult. The sound follows the hill, and travels at an odd 90 degrees to the speakers. Sight-wise, only the very tall, the very close and those very close to screens (of which there are two) can actually see much. This makes things even more difficult. Kraftwerk (Main Stage, Saturday) rely on heavy visuals combined with flashy stage machinations to combat their static presence- ‘Numbers’ sees the foursome in LED suits, and set-closer ‘Robots’ brings out four Kraftwerk automatons. Yet here, they rapidly lose audience members who, cold and unable to see or hear much, move elsewhere. Basically, on a main stage like this, you need to play it loud, and, more importantly, you need to play it to the crowd.

This maxim is a lesson that MGMT would profit to learn. Skulking onto the stage on Friday evening, the duo quickly immerse themselves into the task of distancing themselves as far as possible away from Oracular Spectacular. Dressed in lycra both, they spend 45 minutes essentially playing the coda to ‘Freebird’ before finally playing what the crowd came to hear. ‘Time to Pretend’ is immense, but Ben and Andrew couldn’t care less. Playing in the style of a married couple having cursory ‘ok-fine-but-only-because-it’s-Saturday-and-there’s-no-work-tomorrow’ sex, they launch into new track ‘Dean Treacy’ as quickly as they physically can. For a brief moment, ‘Electric Feel’ imbues the field with a sense of wonder, but the cord is severed unceremoniously as the song closes and the boys stride off. Goldwasser stays on the stage to noodle with the synth in a lounge-music style. A ‘fuck you’ to the crowd? Or just massive self-indulgence? Either way, as he stays, the audience holler the riff to ‘Kids’ until he leaves. 2008’s most-hyped band can’t leave the ghosts of their past behind them just yet, it seems.

Klaxons (Main Stage, Saturday) know the above all too well. Dressed in James May shirts, they open their set with a blistering ‘Atlantis to Interzone’. Blasting through ‘Totem on the Timeline’, ‘Golden Skans’ and ‘As Above, So Below’ in quick succession, they simultaneously embrace and shed their Nu-Rave shroud. The tracks still sound fresh three years on, but the synths and sirens have been replaced by guitars and a sampler. Without the Nu-Rave manacles, they’re just good songs, played by a good live band. Jamie Reynolds dedicates ‘It’s Not Over Yet’ to his mum, and announces that this is their last show touring ‘Myths of the Near Future’. This is how to move on with class. Elsewhere, newcomers Golden Silvers (Main Stage, Saturday) proved their mettle. Exhibiting cuts from their debut- True Romance- doo-wop meets Mystery Jets fop. ‘Please Venus’ is touching, and lead single – ‘Arrows of Eros’ will be an indie-disco mainstay for 09’s dancefloors.
Ones to watch? That goes to Marina and the Diamonds (Jim Beam and Cola Stage, Friday). On her 27th festival of the summer, she looks like a Bratz doll and dances like Coppelia. Her terrifying yet sultry cover of Late of the Pier’s ‘Space in the Woods’ is like Skins directed by Tim Burton, and if the Crown Jewels EP is anything to go by, her LP should be spectacular. Also worthy of note are karate-pop quartet Fight Like Apes, who played a supercharged short set in the Red Bull Arena (Saturday). Leaping, screaming and having a fine old time, the group showcased most of Fight Like Apes and the Mystery of the Golden Medallion, along with an appetite for crowd-surfing and audience participation. Lead singer MayKay is the girl all the boys wished Blondie would be, mixed with Courtney Love’s manic streak, banshee-wailing lines like ‘you’re like Kentucky Fried Chicken but without the taste.’ Pulse-racing stuff. It goes without saying, but you don’t need a lightshow. You don’t need LED suits. All you need is to play it fucking loud. Ailbhe Malone

Gary War: NME 2nd Sept 2009

Gary War

New Raytheonport

Shwdply Records

7/10

Less Lisa Lisa than Nite Jewel, but without John Maus’ madman disco, Gary War is another Stateside analogue acolyte- Bearing a tape-recorder and nodding a head to late 60’s psychedelia (‘Bounce Four’), New Raytheonport builds up lounge-lizard layers of 8-tracked melody, warping them before they finish their drinks. ‘Healthy Living’ comes straight from the Haunted Graffiti songbook- so muted that it makes John Cage’s 4’33 sound like the Eroica Symphony, and with a bassline groove that’s looking to hustle. An ambitious cover of the Alan Parsons Project’s ‘Eye in the Sky’ pays off- somehow predating and supplanting the original, replacing prog with overheard bar-side conversations. Reset your ears to ‘eavesdrop’, turn up the volume on the tape deck, and enjoy. Ailbhe Malone

DOWNLOAD: GOOD CLUES, PLEASE DON’T DIE

Wild Beasts: AU Sept 2009

Wild Beasts: Where the Wild Things Are

Wild Beasts have come in from the woods, and become domesticated. From the opening slinky tones of lead single ‘Hooting and Howling’, a different class of Beast emerges. Gone are the manic squalks and turns of whimsy that gave their debut Limbo Panto its mercurial, schizophonic character. Instead, Two Dancers is sleek, mysterious and velvety: a grown-up record. The group have grown up too, or so lead singer Hayden Thorpe would have AU believe.

For a start, they’ve gotten better at dealing with attention from the Press. “I think we’ve gotten better at doing interviews. The first time round, I had a hell of a lot to get off my chest. It (Limbo Panto) was five years in the making, and we were a bit naive about what to say, and what not to say. They probably made for quite good interviews.” Mind you, they’ve had plenty of practice. Formed in Kendal in 2002, Wild Beasts immediately leapt onto the ‘One to Watch’ lists. The Guardian’s new music blog touted them as “the best New Band Of The Day since White Rabbits or Fleet Foxes”, while their blend of Panto-opera-pop (Pantop-pop?) both divided critics and garnered them fans in the strangest of places. One such unlikely fan is Dave TV. For those unfamiliar with the UK-based station, its schedule consists mainly of blokey favourites such as Top Gear, Red Dwarf and situations in which one’s survival is tested to the EXTREME. Odd then, to see Kevin Day from Dave TV, chino-clad, interviewing and propounding the skinny-jeaned and pencil-moustached foursome. Hayden, however, is quite pleased to count Dave viewers in their fanbase. “It’s important that things are turned on their head a little bit. I kind of like the fact that we are maybe put in those situations, in which we don’t belong. It makes people question things.” Though their public image is that of being erudite and slightly ‘above’ their Indie peers- co-vocalist Tom Fleming says “to be called narcissistic and decadent is far better than being compared to the House Martins”- the group are oddly normal in person. No capes, only t-shirts. No obscure references, only polite answers. When conversation comes to touring and the festival circuit, Thorpe slips into generic soundbite-mode. He is excited to bring new tracks to the fore, and is looking forward to playing in front of a different crowd- “I think the energy of the new songs and the rhythms are naturally really infectious. It’s really nice because we can watch people get energized, and that energizes us. It feels great.” And when asked if their new record was named for the well-known Degas painting, Thorpe replies- “ It was sort of a happy coincidence that we noticed afterwards. Maybe from now on we should just say it is.”

Wild Beasts’ sound is difficult to pin down. Primarily based on the conflict and harmony between Hayden’s falsetto and Tom Fleming’s lugubrious bass, the former has been the main selling point for critics, and fans. Despite male falsetto being big in pop since someone stood on the collective toes of the Bros. Gibb, Thorpe’s voice is the most frequently-mentioned aspect of the group’s sound. Yet, people forget that Wild Beasts, have, in fact, two vocalists, says Thorpe. “I think myself and Tom are a match made in heaven in a way. We naturally compliment each other. It adds a diversity to the record, and it has a duality- those two parts of those two voices- two dancers, you know? We bounce off each other and it makes it easier to listen to.” The group meld pop elements with dramatic shifts and tempo, dynamic and even theme. However, without the swooping, growling vocals, or obscure lyrics, some of their tracks could be even called ‘Indie’. The band see themselves in more concrete terms- “We think of ourselves as a pop band in the classic sense. We make three-minute long songs that have a pop structure- you know: verse, chorus, verse, chorus, middle-8, chorus. So we try very hard to make it compact and streamlined.” The ‘science bit’ put to one side, Hayden continues- “ I’m still in love with that notion of pop being open to everyone. Anyone can have a go. Pop has also given us everything. It has no boundaries, which is, I suppose, why we like it. We don’t have to say what we are. If we just say we’re pop then it adds a lot of freedom.” However, only Freddie Mercury produced by John Waters could classify Limbo Panto as pop- songs ran circles around themselves mid-chorus, and subject themes were at best cryptic, and at worst, opaque. A sample lyric from debut single ‘Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyants’ scans- “Swig the bottle, bottle/Slap the face of Aristotle/Race me, Race me, Race me, Race me/In yer fourth hand jalopy”. It was an ambitious record in every sense, a mission statement for the group. The second time around, Wild Beasts calmed down. While aspects of their debut remain, Two Dancers is an easier listening experience in every way- “It was a conscious decision making this record more accessible. After the first record we made our statement, our impact, kind of like a manifesto. We wanted to shout from the rooftops that this was something different. I suppose we didn’t have to do that again, and we could all relax a bit into the record. That raw energy had died away a bit, and we could be a bit more composed.” Two Dancers is a big step for the group. Influenced mainly by electronic music (specifically Kate Bush’s Sensual World and Junior Boys’ So This is Goodbye), the band “approached it more as an electronic piece played by humans.” Does this new electronic basis mean that the group would be interested in doing a remix album? Because if so, AU offers, they could call it Wild Beats. An entirely unexpected giggle works its way down the phone line. Thorpe clears his throat and replies- “I’m a little bit dubious of remixes myself. They seem to be a cheap and easy way of eking out a record. We will do remixes on this record, and we’ve done a few remixes of ‘Hooting and Howling’. We’re slowly becoming more open to it. The first record, we wanted to protect our little songs from the outside world.”

Thorpe frequently references the insular approach to their debut. In the interim, he appears to have left criticism to one side- he’s stated before that their songs aren’t written with an audience in mind. Rather, they’re launched into the world, open to all who want them. In a way, this approach is a direct product of Thorpe’s main influence for Limbo, Panto’s follow-up. The ‘raw energy’ needed to form Two Dancers didn’t come from Thorpe directly this time, but from a different source: 17th Century French poetry. “I think on this record, the biggest influence for me was Rimbuad. His poetry is translated from French in the 1800’s. He was 18,19. He was a teenager, and was such a ball of energy. He had all this uncontrollable emotion and it just fell out onto the page. He was literally spilling his guts out.” Rimbaud, during a short and torrid life, died before he was 40, but managed to not only write some of the pioneering poems of the Symbolist movement, but also fit in an affair with older poet Verlaine. What appealed to Thorpe, specifically? “I like the openness, and the ‘say it now, worry about it later’ aspect of it. He says what he feels, and he might have to answer to it later on, but the important thing is to be honest on paper.” French Symbolist Poetry isn’t typical pop-song fodder- unless you’re Rufus Wainwright. Nor, to return to an earlier point re: Dave TV, is it an accessible starting point for the average listener. That shouldn’t be a problem though, according to Thorpe. In fact, it’s something that should be explored further. As an all-male group, composing songs about the modern male experience, Wild Beasts feel compelled to offer an alternative viewpoint, one that embraces if not ‘sensitivity’, then certainly ‘vulnerability’. “There’s a very stereotypical male viewpoint in music. There’s a lot of bravado in a way, you know. It’s quite aggressive. I think that we try to be in different headspace. There’s that vulnerable side, there’s a soft part beneath the armour, you know. I suppose we sort of try and unpick those aspects of the male character.” Thorpe is then quick to add that though “we confront that sort of blokey-ness. In a way we don’t feel better or too different from a male sort of testosterone-filled-music. I think it’s a different aspect of it.”

‘Viewing and expressing the ordinary through abstract eyes’, could be a quick way to paraphrase Wild Beast’s appeal. But perhaps a better idea is to look to the founders of Fauvism- the movement that gave the group their name. Fauvism was a form of Post-Impressionism that favoured style over realism. In 1888 Gauguin said to Paul Sérusier “How do you see these trees? They are yellow. So, put in yellow; this shadow, rather blue, paint it with pure ultramarine; these red leaves? Put in vermilion.” Voicing the banal with the colours of the sublime, Wild Beasts aren’t just making music, they’re creating art. Ailbhe Malone