‘Glo’ by Delirious?

When Delirious? released Glo, I had high hopes. It was touted at the time as some sort of ‘Cutting Edge 5’, a return to the band’s routes after the moderate mainstream success of ‘King of Fools’ and ‘Mezzamorphis’. Ultimately, I remember finding the album something of a disappointment, and it’s not an album I’ve listened to much in the meantime.

I should be clear though – this is not a bad album. There are a number of very good songs on it, and nothing that’s worse than average. I think the album suffered, and still suffers, from high expectations, and a slight lack of direction. The idea of making an album more grounded in worship is hard to fault, but the albums preceding this one weren’t especially ambiguous, and the problem with ‘Glo’ is that it still isn’t written for a congregation. You couldn’t use these songs in a church, so all you really get is a slightly simpler version of what’s gone before. There’s no ‘Thank You For Saving Me’ on this record, no ‘Shout To The North’, not even a ‘Did You Feel The Mountains?’

‘God You Are My God’ is a case in point for the strengths and weaknesses of the album. It’s a confident performance with a solid production, and it has some lovely touches – the choir, and the chanting monks are both evidence of the band’s ambition, but there’s no real depth to the song, and it launches immediately into an improvised instrumental section that, for all its heart, doesn’t convey much of anything. ‘God’s Romance’ has more drive, and ‘Investigate’ more depth, though again, the extended musical outro is unnecessary. The middle of the album has some strong points. ‘My Glorious’ is the heart of the album, and a highlight track, but still a song that would sit awkwardly on the radio or in a church – the worst of both worlds, if you will. ‘Everything’ is a real standout, largely because it doesn’t try to straddle this line – it’s a song of worship, clearly, but it sounds like a mainstream hit until the end when the choir kicks in, but holding this trick back for the closing moments makes it work. ‘Hang On To You’ is a good listen, though it sounds like a closing track with six songs still to go. ‘Intimate Stranger’, in all honesty, is seven and a half minutes of tedium. ‘Awaken The Dawn’, on the other hand, is great – a classic Delirious anthem, and the only track from the album you could genuinely use in church. It would be a triumph, if not for the fact that it had been written several years before the rest of the album, and had already been released and made successful by Noel Richards. ‘Years Go By’ is Delirious by numbers, fine but unremarkable. ‘Jesus’ Blood’ is a brooding finisher, a kind of sequel to ‘Obsession’ from Cutting Edge 4.

So it really isn’t bad, but it was the first Delirious album not to represent a significant step forward, choosing instead to lurch sideways. Worse, the knock-on effect, in my opinion, had an impact on their next album, another attempt to break the mainstream market which was somewhat derailed by this. But out of context, and judged on its own merit, this was a decent listen.

‘Glass Spider’ by David Bowie

David Bowie’s Glass Spider Tour in 1987 was his biggest and most ambitious ever. It was also such a soul destroying experience that it made him believe forming Tin Machine would be a good idea. There was a video released at the time, and it resurfaced on DVD and CD a couple of years ago, presumably a release intended to put a lid on Bowie’s reignited critical acclaim. I’m reviewing this off the CD rather than the DVD, and I’m not sure whether that’s a good or bad thing. In it’s favour, it means I’m not distracted by the horribly garish visual imagery. On the downside, it means I’m not distracted from the horribly garish music. It also means that the music is periodically interrupted by seemingly random spoken gibberish, but in fairness, I’ve seen the DVD, and the visuals don’t help any of that make any sense.

‘Glass Spider’ begins with enormous self indulgence. A ridiculous electric guitar solo opens the album, interrupted by a shouted ‘shut up’ (words that any listener would choose at various points to follow) before Bowie’s dancers launch into an a-cappella segment of ‘Up The Hill Backwards’ which is an intriguing idea, though one that doesn’t really go anywhere. From here, the band launch into the absurd ‘Glass Spider’, a track that works far better as a concert introduction than as a song in its own right. Over a wash of synthesizers and guitar wailing, Bowie delivers a spoken monologue about the eponymous glass spider which must have been as inexplicable then as it is now. It’s worth noting, however, that when he actually sings his first line, his voice is in fine form. Glass Spider, for all its faults is far more interesting than ‘Day In, Day Out’, the next track, which is a two chord dirge that seems to go on for decades. It’s depressing to think that, at the time, ‘Day In, Day Out’ counted as one of his better songs. Almost as bad is ‘Bang Bang’ which follows, a track utterly unremarkable aside from the drum breaks and guitar squeals in the chorus which seem desperate to suggest that ‘Bang Bang’ is somehow an exciting piece of music. It isn’t, and it becomes painfully obvious as the song comes to a close that, four tracks in, we’ve yet to hear anything that’s actually good.

Happily, Bowie himself seems to have realised this as well, as the next run of tracks is a series of hits – ‘Absolute Beginners’, one of his finest 80’s tracks, ‘Loving The Alien’, one of his most interesting, ‘China Girl’, one of his most catchy, the much loved ‘Rebel Rebel’, and a genuinely good version of ‘Fashion’, the only ‘old’ track so far to gain anything from the eighties gloss slathered all over it. ‘Scary Monsters’ brings the big hitters section to an end, and is a perfectly decent rendition of a track that’s always seemed a bit middling to me. Disc one ends with a slightly odd version of ‘All The Madmen’, and a straight-down-the-line performance of ‘Never Let Me Down’, a track that really isn’t that bad, though a chorus would have improved it no end.

Disc two falls into a pretty obvious pattern of old songs good, new songs bad. ‘Big Brother’ sounds great, ‘’87 And Cry’ sounds terrible. ‘Heroes’ sounds good, because it can’t not sound good, and ‘Sons Of The Silent Age’ is a rare moment of actual artistry, even if it is somewhat overblown. ‘Time Will Crawl’ is rubbish. ‘Young Americans’ is a little anaemic, but it’s such a great song, you can forgive it its faults. ‘Beat Of Your Drum’ is forgettable, ‘The Jean Genie’ is fine, but played by numbers, ‘Let’s Dance’ is a perfectly good version of a track you may or may not be fond of. ‘Fame’ is less good – a hugely self indulgent performance that only seems to be included so Bowie can announce he wrote it with John Lennon. For unfathomable reasons, he segues it into ‘London Bridge Is Falling Down’, which suggests to me that he’s finding the whole experience as tiring as the listener must be. ‘Time’ comes next, and it stands out like a sore thumb. It’s a great performance though, let down only by the horrible synth horns towards the end. The record ends with ‘Blue Jean’ and ‘Modern Love’, two of the shallowest tracks in the Bowie catalogue, but tracks that are at least catchy and fun.

It would be wrong to label the whole Glass Spider experience as bad. There are good bits, even great bits, though they’re rarely sustained over even the length of a track. But alongside the highlights, there are great depths to the album as well, and you can’t help but think that even if you pruned these out and made a single disc, you’d still be left with a slightly crummy product. So, unless you’re a big Bowie fan, this is probably one to actively avoid.

'Giggle' by Why?

It was with a certain amount of trepidation I listened to this. As a teenager, I loved Why?, but I found it hard to believe that affection would be unchanged. As a result, this was a very pleasant surprise.

Musically, this is better than you might think. It’s played well, and the production is fairly good (though at times, the violin dominates like a buzz saw). There are also inventive flourishes throughout the album – unexpected shifts in tempo and key which generally work very well. The album’s vocal duties are shared by Ant and Nick Parker, and they complement each other well. Ant’s vocals are warmer, Nick’s are perhaps more ambitious, but with a certain degree of tongue in cheek.

Lyrically, the album is a curious mix. A deliberate amount of nonsense is on show, but the band were never afraid to display their faith openly, either through serious references to God, or in-jokes – you have to love a band who start a song with the line ‘every year, Steve Chalke brings out a video’.

Throughout it all, there’s a sense of fun and enjoyment that you can’t help but be sucked in by, even if that comes despite your better judgement.

‘Garbage’ by Garbage

As I continue to work through my collection, occasionally, I throw up a record I can’t quite explain. I’m not entirely sure why this is an album I own – I certainly didn’t own it on its release, so it must have been something I picked up at a later date, presumably in some sort of offer. It’s also not an album I’m especially familiar with, barring the more obvious big hits.

Still, having said all that, I’ve let this album play on rotation for the best part of a week, and I’ve been enjoying it quite a lot. I think you have to adjust your mindset slightly to get the most out of it – it’s not the cheeriest of records, and every now and again, the angsty lyrics and vaguely industrial backing tracks are a little wearing, but the album on the whole is underpinned by a good understanding of what makes good pop music. It does have strong melodies, and it is played, and sung, well. The big hits deserved their status – ‘Only Happy When It Rains’, ‘Queer’ and ‘Stupid Girl’ are particularly fine, but there are other good moments as well – ‘Supervixen’ is a strong opening, ‘Fix Me Now’ is good, ‘Milk’ is a well-crafted ending. It doesn’t all lodge in the memory so strongly – even after repeated listenings, I remain a bit vague about quite a lot of the record, but none of it stands out as bad. So, all in all, pretty enjoyable.

‘Fuzzy Logic’ by Super Furry Animals

Released in 1996 at the height of the Britpop era, the triumph of ‘Fuzzy Logic’ is that it still sounds fresh now. As a debut album, it contains the odd misfire, but on the whole, this album holds up really well fourteen years on.

‘God! Show Me Magic’ is a blisteringly energetic beginning, the beginning of a vein which runs through tracks like ‘Frisbee’ and ‘Bad Behaviour’. Better still, though, are the mid-tempo tracks – ‘Fuzzy Birds’, ‘Hometown Unicorn’, ‘If You Don’t Want Me To Destroy You’, ‘Mario Man’ – which allow the bands harmonies to shine through, as though band are creating a Californian corner of Wales. Other notable points include the circular and evocative ‘Gathering Moss’, the gentle ambient ‘Long Gone’, and extraordinarily confident ‘For Now And Ever’, a track which shows the band had no reservations about creating anthems, even at such an early stage in their career. A very fine listen indeed.

'Funeral' by Arcade Fire

There are lots of average albums out there, and there are plenty of good ones. Every now and again, however, comes an album so special you wonder how music as a whole got by without it. ‘Funeral’ is one of those albums. There is nothing, literally nothing, I would change about this album. From start to finish, it’s utterly glorious. Shambolic, chaotic, energetic, rough around the edges but wonderful all the same.

I can remember listening to the album for the first time on my journey to work after buying it on the strength of a Jools Holland performance. As ‘Neighbourhood #1’ began, I was intrigued. By the time the tempo had noticeably started to accelerate, I was hooked. By the time ‘Neighbourhood #2’ had played out, with its shouty vocals and accordion riffs, I knew there was no way I wasn’t going to love what followed. Sure enough came ‘Neighbourhood #3’, ‘Crown Of Love’, ‘Wake Up’, and the utterly brilliant ‘Rebellion’ – track after track of goodness.

This is hardly a controversial view – Arcade Fire had nothing but praise from virtually the whole world when this album was released, and the positive reception lasted almost unscathed though the release of their follow-up as well, but no matter. There are no inherent points in thinking differently to everyone else. Sometimes, the hype is justified.

‘From Every Sphere’ by Ed Harcourt

Released in 2003, Ed Harcourt’s second album was a pretty obvious follow up to his first. There were no radical new directions on display, just a solid consolidation of the previous record. Sometimes, however, that’s all you need, and this record is a pleasure to listen to from start to… well, almost finish, but we’ll come to that.

The highlights, then, are packed slightly towards the beginning. ‘Bittersweetheart’ is a curiously understated opening, but lovely – an indrawn breath before the exhalation of ‘All Of Your Days Will Be Blessed’, the lead single (and, tragically, the only Ed Harcourt song ever to grace the top forty). ‘Ghost Writer’ changes tempo, though it’s impact is dulled by its similarity to ‘God Protects Your Soul’ from the previous album, a track that sounds similar but is much better. ‘The Birds Will Sing For Us’ puts things back on track. A sweet song until the ‘all die in the end’ ending, which is unexpected, but somehow works brilliantly. ‘Sister Renee’ is the sort of woozy piano ballad that Harcourt excels in. The middle section of the album dips a little – none of the tracks are bad, but they don’t hang around in your consciousness for two long. The final four tracks, however, are a structural problem. Each of them are good, and each would make a great ending song, but put together in a row, their impact is seriously blunted. ‘Watching The Sun Comes Up’ suffers the worst from this – it should be a climactic anthem, but by the time three more songs have played, its impact is lost. The fact that the title track, and actual last song, is seven and a half minutes long doesn’t help the situation either. It brings the album as a whole to fifty-six minutes, so cutting a track, or even two tracks, from the running order wouldn’t have hurt.

However, it seems harsh to quibble about this, and really, I’m nitpicking. The album is a good one.