Friday, February 27, 2015 

They rave us.

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Friday, February 20, 2015 

A new wave.

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Friday, February 13, 2015 

Head for home.

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Friday, February 06, 2015 

Recall.

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Friday, January 30, 2015 

Future now.

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Friday, January 23, 2015 

Patchwork.

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Friday, January 16, 2015 

Through.

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Friday, January 09, 2015 

5 years.

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Friday, January 02, 2015 

From a scream to a whisper.

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Wednesday, December 31, 2014 

The best music of 2014 part 2 / 15 best albums.

Honourable mentions, no order:

Fucked Up - Glass Boys
Iceage - Plowing Into the Field of Love
Andy Stott - Faith in Strangers
Young Fathers - Dead
Lee Gamble - Koch
Death from Above 1979 - The Physical World
La Roux - Trouble in Paradise
Damon Albarn - Everyday Robots
Millie and Andrea - Drop the Vowels
Eagulls - Eagulls
Real Estate - Atlas
Actress - Ghettoville

15. Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra - Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light on Everything

Is releasing an album at the beginning of the year a disadvantage when it comes to it getting the recognition it deserves come the end of it?  It's worth pondering when you consider Run the Jewels 2, which tops a whole host of end of year lists came out very recently, although saying that one of the other albums challenging Run the Jewels was released at the back end of February.  Fuck Off... was released a month earlier, and seems to have been neglected despite it easily being Mt Zion's finest work since 2005's Horses in the Sky.  Efrim Menuck's singing is his best yet, in that he's in tune, the "orchestra" sound tighter than ever, and any album that opens with a child saying "We live on an island named Montreal, and we make a lot of noise because we love each other" instantly wins me over.

14. Hookworms - The Hum

Naming your second album after the background noise some claim to be tormented by might strike a few people as sort of asking for it, and Hookworms are undoubtedly a band you could find yourself laughing at.  Everything about them is conducted in a haze, whether it be much of their music, how they are known only by initials, and the fact their lyrics are all but indecipherable.  Thankfully this doesn't matter when the combination of psychedelia, shoegaze and post-punk melds together this well, and while they might not thank me for it, there's more than an occasional hint of Wish You Were Here-era Pink Floyd about proceedings, which as albums to take inspiration from go isn't a bad choice.

13. This Will Destroy You - Another Language

I am it must be admitted, a sucker for instrumental rock and frankly instrumental music in general.  "Better without the vocals" was a sentence always crossing my lips when discussing music a good few years ago, and so it continues.  Another Language is as post-rock as it comes, at least without involving strings, and the band's name, as with stablemates Explosions in the Sky tells you much of what they're about.  It's not always clever, it often is quiet quiet loud, but as with the best post-rock bands the by the numbers stuff doesn't matter when the beauty and texture of the music is as compelling as it is here.

12. Slackk - Palm Tree Fire

While grime went off in a multitude of directions over the year, Palm Tree Fire was the purest concentration of what the genre does best: cutely sampled melodies, sparse beats and enough space to let it all breathe.  Previously instrumental grime has never made proper use of the album format: for three separate and brilliant records to come out the same 12 months is hopefully just a sign of things to come.

11. Wild Beasts - Present Tense

Wild Beasts have always stood apart from the crowd, Hayden Thorpe's falsetto scaring off anyone who might have mistaken them for a landfill indie group.  Present Tense sees them just as chippy as ever: opener Wanderlust asking "in your mother tongue, what's the verb to suck?", a barb directed at some of their more America-embracing contemporaries, while Nature Boy takes aim firmly at one of those encouraged by the internet fetishes, the willing cuckold.  Wild Beasts' approach to sex is still as ambiguous, mature as before, album closer Palace touchingly honest in its detailing of a relationship while temptation abounds.  "You remind me of the person I wanted to be / Before I forgot" Thorpe sings, a line that expresses both the regrets of the past while being content with the present.  Few groups can pull off such sensitivity both in music and lyrics without becoming twee or dull, and it remains their abiding trademark.

10. Flying Lotus - You're Dead!

I'll freely admit Flying Lotus previously was someone I just didn't get it, so it's perhaps typical that once Steven Ellison went in for an almost concept album on passing away it suddenly began to make sense.  Not that you need to approach You're Dead! as anything other than a virtuoso 40 minutes of alternating beats, free jazz motifs and occasionally inspired guest appearances, including Herbie Hancock and Captain Murphy.  For an album concerned with death it's endlessly playful, and the short nature of the tracks, some little more than vignettes, reminds more of Zomby than the jazz contemporaries Ellison gets lumped in with almost as often as IDM/hip hop producers.

9. Cloud Nothings - Here and Nowhere Else

Cloud Nothings' first three albums managed to pass me by entirely, so Here and Nowhere Else came as pleasant a surprise as a distortion heavy balls out garage rock record can.  Those looking for subtlety or nuance can go elsewhere, as Dylan Baldi's ensemble do the exact opposite.  Despite the pained, growled vocals and accompanying bleak lyrics, it's the riffs and the drums that draw you in, and clocking in at just slightly longer than half an hour Cloud Nothings do what they have to and go.

8. Parquet Courts - Sunbathing Animal

One thing we've lacked in recent years is a properly spiky, angular indie band, such have been the diminishing returns from the surfeit we had in the mid 2000s.  Parquet Courts don't quite fit the bill, as they only fully let rip on occasion, as on Ducking and Dodging.  Truth is that's clearly not the sort of band they want to be: while their workrate which has already seen the release of a follow-up can't be doubted, they're just as at home on the elongated slowjam of Instant Disassembly with its knowing references as they are going all out as on the title track.  If the members don't get bored first, you get the impression even better is yet to come.

7. SD Laika - That's Harikiri

Describing That's Harikiri as grime is stretching the genre's template to absolute breaking point.  Certainly SD Laika's likely only album draws upon grime's percussion and melody as a base, but beyond that it reminds at times of the sonic experimentation of These New Puritans' Hidden, at others of the sound a crashing computer makes as it tries desperately to continue playing music.  If that isn't enticing, then the brutalism of some of the tracks contrast with the synths of others to harmonious effect.  Just when you think a tune has turned fully industrial, SD Laika introduces lush pads that bring you back in, only to then go back to distortion.  One of the year's most challenging listens, it rewards in equal measure.

6. Lewis - L'Amour

Difficult to know how to properly classify this one.  Technically it's a reissue, but seeing as it was barely heard until this year and frankly it's this special the rules are there to be bent.  You probably know the story by now: record collector finds a copy of L'Amour at a flea market (how "lost" the album really was is open to question, as songs from it have been on YouTube since 2010), the label Lights in the Attic reissues it and fails to track the artist down despite their best efforts.  Since discovered have been a further "lost" record and songs recorded as recently as last decade, as has been Lewis himself.  Is it any good then?  Well yes: you could almost describe it as a minimalist counterbalance to FKA Twigs' debut, just thirty years previous.  The same themes are present, as are the often barely perceptible vocals.  Whatever Lewis's intentions at the time, for it still to be as affecting now is testament to how everything and everyone deserves a second chance.

5. FKA Twigs - LP1

At times it proves impossible to resist the hype.  LP1 is the year's most successful crossover critical success, and for good reason: it's produced to within an inch of its life, the instrumentation could be Rustie's, only slightly toned down for a wider audience, and Tahliah Barnett's vocals are hushed, confessional and gorgeous.  Two Weeks has the requisite swearing and video, Numbers asks of a lover whether she's just another notch on the bedpost, and the pace mostly keeps up right to the end.  If I sound cynical it's because while I can't fault the record on a practical level, I wonder about its longevity: what sounds of the moment now soon dates.  Then again, something so in debt to Aaliyah and other 90s R&B might stand the test of time just as much as those songs have.

4. Ben Frost - A U R O R A

Aurora is one of those extremely rare albums that manages to combine moments of sheer terror, such is the noise that suddenly erupts on Diphenyl Oxalate and elsewhere, with the tenderest, most touching soundscapes the next.  The most obvious comparison is Fuck Buttons, but whereas their music tends to build and build and build, Frost's structures are far more idiosyncratic, playful, often lulling you into a false sense of security for when the next blast of power electronics hits.  A perfect complement to last year's Virgins by Tim Hecker.

3. Manic Street Preachers - Futurology

When the Manics return to using the Holy Bible typeface with its backwards Rs, it's their way of telling everyone they mean business.  Futurology is quite possibly even better than 2009's Journal for Plague Lovers, when the band felt the need to go back and use the lyrics Richey Edwards left before he disappeared.  Walk Me to the Bridge also seems to have been deliberately written by Nicky Wire to both concern Edwards' likely end while also being about something else entirely.  It proves once again you should never believe any artist when they say what their work's about, the lines "I re-imagine the steps you took / still blinded by your intellect" having very little in the way of alternative interpretation than Wire putting himself in Edwards' shoes.  For a song dealing with such a difficult subject for the band, it's another example of Wire never wanting closure while still saying goodbye.  That it encapsulates the band at their strongest, and comes between the punch of the title track and Let's Go to War gets the album off to a breakneck start, and it doesn't trail off as so many other records do.  Unusually for the latter day Manics, the material that didn't make the album is just as strong if not better than some of the album tracks, with both Sound of Detachment and Caldey from the Walk Me to the Bridge EP deserving of the same playlist rotation.

2. Mr. Mitch - Parallel Memories

Released by Planet Mu, an indication of an artist having been recognised for doing something different within a genre's confines, Parallel Memories is grime for the night bus as opposed to the club.  Burial comparisons are often erroneous or not justified, but while it lies just beneath the surface of some of Parallel Memories tracks, it comes to the fore properly on Denial, the vocal samples just too evocative of Will Bevan's work.  Fact Mag identified the sense of desolation Wandering Glaciers suggests, yet desolation is nearly always synonymous with contemplation and the revealing of previously unidentified beauty, something Parallel Memories has throughout.

1. St. Vincent - St. Vincent

Hands up.  St Vincent's last album Strange Mercy ranked far too low on my 2011 list (which was perhaps a smidgen too dubstep heavy), barely making it in at 15.  The question is whether Annie Clark's err, self-titled fourth album is better than Strange Mercy, and despite my declaring it the best album of this year I'm not certain it is.  St. Vincent is exceptional, that's for certain: almost every review noted the opening couplet of Birth in Reverse, because it's so effortless in its capturing of the numbness of modern life.  "Oh just an ordinary day / Take out the garbage, masturbate".  It's a theme that runs throughout, with Digital Witness's all too vivid summing up of a world lived through others through a screen the sadder for its acuity.  Just as wonderful are Prince Johnny and I Prefer Your Love, the latter with Clark declaring she'd rather have the devotion of a partner to that of Jesus in heartbreakingly lush fashion.  Pared back somewhat is the experimentation in sound of Strange Mercy, but that only allows Clark's song-writing to come to the fore all the more powerfully.  Whichever is ultimately determined the stronger, Annie Clark has produced two of the finest albums of this decade.

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Tuesday, December 30, 2014 

The best music of 2014 part 1.

Best Track(s)
Flowdan - Serious Business EP

While album of the year lists tend to reach a certain amount of consensus, with usually four or five albums dominating, the same is never the case of track of the year lists.  With 2014 being a year where I'd challenge anyone to say there was without question one song that dominated, I thought I'd choose something from relatively out of leftfield just to emphasise that.

We must do something approaching a round-up of the best nevertheless, and we may as well start with Mala's sort-of sequel to 2009's Level 9, which is certainly my favourite of his under his own moniker rather than Digital Mystikz.  Level 10 (Expected) isn't quite up to its predecessor's standards, but in a year when dubstep seemed in hibernation it wasn't difficult to be among the finest tracks.  Also outstanding was Proxima's Trapped, and while not yet released, the Nomine tune Youngsta has been hammering for what already seems like months that samples Zatoichi also slays.

Grime by contrast hasn't been in better health since the middle of the last decade, and very few grime tunes reflect the best of old and new as well as JT the Goon's Twin Warriors.  2014 production chops are combined with a flute sample that if not for how clean it is could have come from one of those foundational grime tracks, probably because it err, originated from Jammer's Chinaman.  Other sites have Mumdance's Take Time ranking near the top of their lists and while certainly good, I prefer the cleanness of It's Peak, which edges nearer that Night Slugs sound than it does grime.  Mr Mitch's Don't Leave and Denial are grime at its most beguiling and beautiful, while Darq E Freaker went all trap with the unfortunately named Minger.  Just about fitting in here is Rustie's Up Down featuring D Double E (worth mentioning is Pitchfork chose the disappointing Green Language's worst track for inclusion on their list, saying everything about their appalling as usual taste), with grime's best MC bar perhaps one doing his usual thing over some of Rustie's harking back to hardcore beats.

On the drum and bass side of things Fracture's entire Loving Touch EP was peerless, Tessela's Rough 2 was aptly named and as we ought not to entirely ignore the not digital, St Vincent's Digital Witness (oh the irony) and the Manics' Dreaming a City (Hughesovka) were also difficult to beat.

If you were to take Flowdan's Serious Business EP as four separate tracks rather than as a whole, it probably wouldn't come out as top.  All four are by different producers, and while Coki's work on F About is as excellent as always, you can guess what Flowdan, err, flows about from the title.  Combined with People Power and No Gyal Tune though, the former of which is an ostensible grime track (produced by The Bug) about social justice in general, something as rare as a funny Jack Whitehall joke, and the intensity of the latter, it becomes more than the sum of its parts.  Flowdan might not always have the best rhymes, but no one else can touch his delivery.

Best Remix / Bootleg
Peverelist - Roll With the Punches (Kowton Linear Mix)

This year finally saw a release for Kromestar's inspired retooling of Joker's Tron, one of those deceptively simple remixes which does little more than slightly reamp the melody while adding a synth and yet it improves on the original immeasurably.  On the bootleg front Rabit took Kelly Rowland's Dirty Laundry home and applied his sparse production techniques, complimenting the vocal perfectly, while Cyphr polished Rihanna's dull Diamonds until they finally shone as they should.  It probably came out last year, but I didn't hear it until this so I'm also including Special Request's standardly effective junglist improvement of London Grammar's Nightcall.  Plastician was good enough to hand over a shedload of his old dubs to producers new and established to rework, the best efforts coming from AWE on Safari, Mr. Mitch on White Gloves, with Kahn and Neek on The Search and Wen on Shallow Grave bringing up the rear.

Not content with turning in a superb remix of Paul Woolford's Erotic Discourse, the criminally undervalued Kowton, given access to Pev's minor classic turned it into a straight up dubstep banger, the original's melody attached to toughened drums and more bass than Pev thought it could handle first time round.

Best Reissue
Nana Love - Disco Documentary

The obvious thing to do would be to just write The Holy Bible 20 here and leave it at that.  Just this once let's not be obvious and instead run down some of the myriad other reissues this year.  Original hardcore / jungle label Suburban Base's entire back catalogue was put out digitally and also released was a 3cd comp of its glory years; Led Zeppelin's albums were remastered, if the extras were a little dull; Mogwai's Come on Die Young got the 15th anniversary treatment; and Sleater-Kinney's discography up to now also came out again, although seeing as my local HMV decided not to bother getting them in and I can't really justify the expense in any case I'm yet to hear them.  Sob.  Also of note is Soul Jazz's Punk 45 series, with two discs given over to underground punk from both America and here, with a third dedicated to what came before between 70-77.

In a year of barely known about gems resurfacing, BBE put out Nana Love's lost 1978 album Disco Documentary - Full of Funk, the kind of record that despite being precisely of its time still sounds incredible today.  Nana Love's voice is unique, and while she was never going to give Gloria Gaynor or Donna Summer much of a challenge it just adds to an album that should never have been overlooked first time round.

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Monday, December 29, 2014 

The worst music of 2014.

This time last year I suggested we might be facing a couple of years where musical innovation (in the "underground" scenes at least) would take a back seat to general consolidation, such had been the breakneck pace of change of the period between 2003-2011.  Now, it could be I haven't listened to as much on Rinse this past 12 months as I have previously, but it really does seem as though we're in the middle of said fallow period.  Coupled with the continuing decline in physical sales, with it becoming ever less clear exactly how musicians are going to be remunerated for their work when streaming services are now the first port of call for so many, with the pittance they offer in royalties, it's often felt this year as though the safest bets have been celebrated and pushed more than ever.

First though, can we have a moment of silence for dubstep, which passed away this year?  Or perhaps some cavernous sub-bass would be more appropriate.  Whole genres of course don't die, and without doubt repetitive beats around the 140bpm mark will come back, as every genre does at some point.  This said, when Youngsta now dedicates almost the entire first hour of his show to that not exactly post-dubstep not exactly tech-house not exactly techno sound others have moved on to, you know dubstep is going through a period of creative crisis.  


This is all the more sad when you consider just a few short years ago the possibilities of the genre seemed endless: "dubstep" was always an elastic signifier, able to encompass Burial at one end of the spectrum and completely deranged tearout by say, Borgore at the other.  Without being confined in the same way as drum and bass is, the likes of Scuba and Joy Orbison could happily sit alongside Coki and 16 Bit.  And now, almost certainly because the bastardised version of dubstep got so popular so quickly among a certain demographic, the genre as a whole has collapsed in on itself.

In what is hopefully a sign of how dubstep can make a resurgence, its sister genre grime has continued its own instrumental revival this year.  Where perhaps the Butterz duo of Elijah and Skilliam can be principally thanked for starting things off, a whole bunch of new labels and producers have emerged this year to drive things further on.  Artists like Slackk, Visionist, Murlo, Kid D, Inkke, and SD Laika have all emerged, while more established people like Mr. Mitch and JT the Goon have pushed on too.  There's also been the revelation of outliers like those mentioned above who had a tenuous connection to dubstep, such as Rabit and Yamaenko, who are sort of making grime, just not the sort you're likely to hear in a club being spat over by an MC.

With 2014 having often felt like a year in a state of flux, not sure whether it wanted to go down as the year when the internet completely took over everything, music in general has often seemed to be mirroring that air of uncertainty.  There hasn't been anything completely irredeemable, just as there hasn't been anything on the scale of say, Get Lucky, conquering all before it.  The closest has been Happy, which in fact came out at the tail end of last year.  To make up for this clearly unacceptable situation, the levels of hype and bullshit surrounding mediocre but successful artists have escalated yet further.  Every female artist on the planet was seemingly asked if they were a feminist, and even if they didn't agree they were lauded as one anyway.  Perhaps Beyonce is a feminist, if getting married to someone who once declared he had 99 problems but a bitch wasn't one can be defined as such, but when Queen B's status as living god has been affirmed over and over no one could possibly demur anyway.

We must then move on to Taylor Swift.  Forget just for a moment the whole removing her music from Spotify thing, the kind of act in 2014 that defines you as a revolutionary, such is the way the industry has gone, and try to remember the music itself.  Can you?  I don't mean the videos, the ones that prompt supposed political commentators to write articles on them, such is their power, but the actual music that goes with them.   I sure as hell can't.  There is literally nothing there, and yet such has been the ephemera of the recent past Swift's music is held up as a kind of triumph.  I'd like to think all those clickbait pieces on Swift and her ilk are written by people no longer ashamed to admit they have horrible taste in music, yet most are clearly just doing what they're told.

Much the same can be said for that other winner against the odds of 2014, Ed Sheeran.  His second album has sold over a million copies, which just proves how massive the market for insipid sort of guitar sort of vaguely urban at times music is.  Sheeran is without question his own man, having gone round the toilet circuit before making it big, but still he seems like the next logical step for the tweenager who's outgrown One Direction or 5 Seconds of Summer.  He's supremely unthreatening but has a sleeve tattoo therefore rebellion, sings a few soppy songs but others have a slightly harsher edge, and if he hadn't arrived fully formed some record company exec would have created him.  That he reminds me and probably only me of Sam Duckworth's Get Cape Wear Cape Fly, except Sheeran is even wetter, fairly sums him up.

Sheeran is at least preferable to the other "big" artists thrust down our throats this year in the shape of Sam Smith and George Ezra, with their faux-soul faux-everything except their voices sound.  James Blake was unfairly described a couple of years back as coffee table dubstep, but that's as nothing to what Smith and Ezra are: they're background noise makers, whether it be to provide a soundtrack to scenes in the Queen Vic or Rovers Return, or to your own dinner party.  To do a couple of obvious jokes, yes, Ezra, you are a Budapest, and will someone please pass me the fucking asparagus.

It also wouldn't be a worst music of the year post if we didn't have a moan about mediocrities getting praise for merely being mediocre, if that hasn't been what the past four paragraphs have been getting at already.  No, this year has seen something far more pernicious: the review that sort of says this album is total cack and then gives it a midrange score regardless.  Chief example being Alexis Petridis' review of Lily Allen's god-awful Sheezus.  Lily Allen has been getting away with releasing sort-of OK pop for years, rewarded at one point with a Novello award no less, only to come rather unstuck following the whole I'm not going to lower myself by shaking my arse in my videos when I've paid a whole load of black women to do it for me controversy.  When the best can be said is that a couple of songs have a couple of decent lines, Petridis quoting the one from URL Badman, just not the "I don't like girls much, they're kinda silly / Unless of course they wanna play with my willy" couplet which rather lets the side down, then giving it three stars is stretching it.  The same goes for Pitchfork's review of Nicki Minaj's opus the Pinkprint, which admits from the outset Minaj is "exhausted", only to then give it a 7.5.  On the Richter scale, presumably.

Ah yes, Ms Minaj.  Anaconda was apparently intended as a novelty, which rather poses the question of whether almost her entire body of previous work should be regarded as such also.  "My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun" is the kind of line you could go to your grave trying to decipher.  Is Minaj deliberately using a double negative to satirise the whole debate over her butt implants?  Despite everyone assuming that anaconda is a euphemism for penis, is she actually warning everyone of a snake targeting only those with large posteriors?  Or is it merely a terrible line written to justify a video where Minaj "plays" another woman's buttocks like the bongos?  Then we also had Meghan Trainor, informing the world it's all about that bass, no treble.  All this discussing in song form of bigger than your average back bottoms meant this was soon taken up as a rallying cry for "loving what you got", which is a fine sentiment.  It just rather ignored the whole "Fuck the skinny bitches in the club" bit at the end of Anaconda.

Finally, and most mystifying of all, is just how many deeply underwhelming albums have been praised to the skies.  The War on Drugs' Lost in the Dream is making a lot of top tens, to which you can only ask: how?  I'm not averse to a bit of Bruce Springsteen, but Bruce Springsteen mixed with David Gray with the other worst bits of 80s rock thrown in?  The 80s is the decade music wants to forget for good reason, with the only comfort coming from the emergence of house, techno and hardcore in both musical senses.  Aphex Twin's comeback Syro also does absolutely nothing for me, the praise it's getting more about Richard D James's past contributions than his latest it seems, Swans' To Be Kind similarly washes over whereas The Seer captivated, and Scott Walker's team-up with Sunn 0))) is memorable only for the "Choo choo mama" chorus of Fetish, which for those like me who come from the internet thought was going to end in a different m word altogether.  Choo choo then, motherfuckers.

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Wednesday, December 24, 2014 

In block 5 we worship malaria.

And so another thoroughly miserable year is drawing to a close, with the promise of a 5 month general election campaign awaiting us the other side of New Year's Eve.  Thanks to all those still reading, and as per I shall return in a few days with the only truly definitive (read: my entirely subjective and almost certainly stupid in the face) guide to the year's best and worst music.

To get us in the mood, here's a song of festive cheer:


Oh. It seems to be about the Holocaust instead.  Ah well.

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Friday, December 19, 2014 

What lies beyond.

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Friday, December 12, 2014 

Revenant.

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Friday, December 05, 2014 

Someone.

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Friday, November 28, 2014 

Spheres of Costa Rica.

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Friday, November 21, 2014 

I know it's over.

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Friday, November 14, 2014 

The Rake's song.

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Tuesday, November 11, 2014 

Is it possible to parody something so clearly beyond parody?

The woman in the Prodigy's Smack My Bitch Up video is the woman we've been waiting for: a woman who does everything the very worst men do and then ends it all with a hearty "fuck you".

The video for Smack My Bitch Up looks on the surface to be a dystopian feminist nightmare: shot entirely from a first person perspective, we see what look to be a man's arms as he prepares for a night out, using shaving cream, going to the toilet (notice that he sits down; is he merely dropping the kids off at the pool or perhaps sitting down for another reason?), snorting cocaine.

Nothing especially wrong with any of that.  It's once he reaches the first bar things start to go awry.  He tries to force a woman to kiss him; he gropes the women he passes on his way down to the stairs into a club; he attacks various people once on the dancefloor, before setting upon the DJ, who seems to be playing a fairly generic 90s piece of electronica which doesn't seem to know whether it wants to be straight up drum and bass or something far more tame, and is enlivened only by the vocal informing us of how the singer is "change[ing] my pitch up" then "smack[ing] my bitch up".  When all else fails, head into obviously controversial territory and then respond in the most obtuse way imaginable.  Just ask Nicki Minaj.

With the track's breakdown swirling in our ears, the ethereal female vocal that accompanies it corresponding with our protagonist injecting something into his arm, the video takes an even darker turn.  He heads for a strip club, again groping a woman on the stairs down into this new hell.  Here we see him getting too close to one dancer for her comfort, raising the question of where the bouncers are, before he somehow manages to seduce one dancer through apparent sheer force of personality.  They steal a car, and retire back to the flat we started out in.  After the requisite amount of gratuitous fumbling around, the dancer leaves as soon as the sex is over.  It's only then our view switches from the door to a mirror where it's revealed that... the person we've been seeing the world through was a woman the entire time!

This bait and switch technique, drawing in those who came for the T and A only then for the video to shove their narrow and sexist motivations back into their faces might seem like having your cake and eating it, but this doesn't matter when the joke's on them.  The video acts out these caricatures for our amusement, while also challenging our prejudices: why couldn't it have been a woman acting in such a way?  Real equality will be here when women have the right to be as stupid and irresponsible as men, and aren't judged differently for it.  This is a band in full creative control of their image, unafraid to troll people if they can also force them into thinking.  How's that for paradigm smashing?

[In answer to the title, no, you really can't.]

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