Next we would have had Sway (1992) by Antenna, who were the band that John Strohm formed after Juliana Hatfield called time on the Blake Babies. Strohm's songs were always wetter than a baby's nappy and Sway continued that fine tradition. I don't know if any of you ever heard the songs that John Bancroft and I played on with Neil Luckett's Wagtails, but it's wetter even than those. In any event, this is academic because once again, the curse of the utter incomprehensible uselessness (ie corporate control) of the internet means that this one is another no-show.
Eek, get your gloom on, it's the temporary career-making I Am a Bird Now (2005) by Antony & the Johnsons. I am still unsure whether I really like this album or am basically indifferent to it. I feel I should like it more than I really do perhaps. 'Hope There's Someone' is a fabulous tune but the album opens with it and never reaches the same heights again. I think it's the old problem, there's so much to admire but so little to love here. It's certainly a heartfelt piece of work and it's very much an emotional piece but it still manages to leave me a little cold, even a bit bored. Antony Hegarty's tremulous voice is something of an acquired taste, but the sparse string and piano arrangements leave the whole experience a little like reading a stranger's diary in which there is some foreboding but no actual events to keep you interested.
This time let's start stroking our chins in appreciation of two faces of the Aphex Twin. First up is the second bunch of super minimalist ambient experimentation, Selected Ambient Works, Vol. 2 (1994). There's over two and a half hours of this stuff and if you're seriously monged out on drugs then I expect it's amaaaaazing, but to be honest if you're not (and I never am) then it's either a) really soothing, b) intensely annoying or c) excellent for nodding off, all depending on your mood. As I listened to it today I hovered very much between a) and b). The thing is, when I was in Bristol, way back in the day, I used to pretend to absolutely love ambient techno. I don't think I did really love it, in fact I think the truth is that I could scarcely even tolerate it, but I suppose I must have thought it made me appear interesting. I suspect it was probably no more than the equivalent of growing a little goatee and reading Sartre very publicly in cafes, specifically so that people might think you're clever. Anyway, I digress. Selected Ambient Works, Vol. 2 is very smart, intruiging, elusive, enigmatic and deathly dull, remarkably all at the same time, which is its best trick by far. Then we've got the R&S compilation of early club oriented tracks, Classics (1994). This is a far livelier affair consisting as it does of some seriously banging art-techno. You can't really dance to this nonsense, but you can nod to it and look wise. "Smash hit" 'Digeridoo' has aged badly, in fact a lot of this stuff has (most of the ambient stuff strangely hasn't), and it does make me look back with both fondness and regret to the time. 'Analogue Bubblebath' still makes me chuckle though.
And because Classics is so long and Selected Ambient Works, Vol. 2 is so incredibly long, that's all we have time for this week. So, back again on Monday for the next round of whatever the letter A has to offer. Toodle-oo!
PS, tell a lie, I've had time to just get one more in - Mare Vitalis (2000) by Appleseed Cast. This is another nice little angular bit of arty-emo, all spirit and emotion with some tricksy tempo messing and quirky guitarwork. It's another one that often gets cited as being highly influential without anyone seeming to have actually ever heard it. It's a very nice record and a pleasing way to end the week.
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