OPA! Wrote:
How is that Real Tuesday Weld...I loved I, Lucifer.
this stream still good as of this evening
Code:
http://www.fanaticpromotion.com/ecards/therealtuesdayweld/card.html
PopMatters Wrote:
The antique beat is still in place. He uses short, shuffling beats, light touches of the high-hat, a clarinet that noodles upwards, a sweet American country fiddle, playful scat singing, scratching that swishes to a swing tune, and a clouded, averted overlay that makes the recordings sound as if they’re coming from a distance. “Cloud Cuckooland” putters along on its ba-da-boops and “I Love London” sways to an old jazzy horn.
This album begins with the same combination of pinging and music box that he used earlier this year on a remix of Forro in the Dark’s “Asa Branca”. There and here it makes the song feel diminutive. Coates is a miniaturist. The landscape of his songs is the size of a shoebox diorama. Everything is scratchily illuminated. The elderly sound of the samples he chooses give his songs a hint of Joseph Cornell without Cornell’s sometimes sadistic and recalcitrant sense of mystery. Evocative objects, in this case sounds, have been lifted from the past and reworked to reflect the character of the person doing the arranging. The album is a sepia photograph sitting incongruously but firmly in the modern age, an affectionate senility.
The London Book of the Dead is as intelligently constructed as its predecessors but the focus on love, love, love is starting to feel like a style tic. Even corpses aren’t allowed to get away from it. After walking “through that door” one dead, singing lover asks the other to rot with her. “And when the worms have done their thing/ a part of you will be a part of me.” For all its cleverness and humour there’s something infantile about this wishful thinking. This idea of temporal love as an eternal state is too false, even when it’s presented with a joke. Is death in London really all about love? Of course it isn’t.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead‘s advice about letting go starts to seem compassionate in comparison. Leave. Escape. And the jazz and swing and gospel make this album sound closer to America than London anyway. Coates’ gift hasn’t diminished, his sound is still particular, enjoyable, smart, and filled with character. He keeps finding new ways to work with it, new manipulations of jazz and booping, but less love, yes, less love would be nice. Or at least, love in different flavours.
