Showing posts with label 2002. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2002. Show all posts

Thursday, February 23, 2017

A Few Thoughts on Peter Murphy in the 21st Century

Peter Murphy is an enigmatic personality who is tough to pin down. The first two decades of his career form a somewhat linear path of development, but in the 21st century, his activity has been varied and unpredictable. Some of the resulting work is forgettable, but other parts are all too easily overlooked. This article aims to cover the breadth of this output and evaluate each release's relative merits.

After co-founding and departing Bauhaus and Dali's Car, Murphy spent the rest of the 80s making keyboard-driven alternative and post-punk music with a mystical bent and a tendency for the grandiose. In the 90s, he gradually steered towards a more haunting, expansive, and electronic sound. When Bauhaus reunited for a tour in 1998, they recorded two songs (a cover of Dead Can Dance's "Severance" and new composition "The Dog's a Vapour") that fit well into this trend. After the reunion fell apart, Murphy released the perfunctory compilation Wild Birds (2000) and the excellent live album Alive Just for Love (2001).

At that point, it seemed that Murphy was at a crossroads. Having proven himself as a solo artist and briefly redeemed his glory as the frontperson of Bauhaus, there was no clear step forward from there. He could have gracefully retired. Instead, he took the far more interesting road of experimenting with his sound and taking more risks with his career.


His first studio album since Cascade (1995) was Dust (2002), a fusion of traditional Turkish music with modern electronics. It's Murphy's most unique and distinctive album, and for the open-minded and patient listener, it's a pleasure to absorb its meandering, obscure beauty. However, it's a very long and subtle album that is apt to cause the listener to lose focus. The album wasn't quite a success and it was somewhat confusing for long-time fans.

Unsurprisingly, Murphy's next album, Unshattered (2004), was a blunt return to rock music. It was perhaps intended to be a return to form, especially with the appearance of Bauhaus drummer Kevin Haskins and two members of Jane's Addiction, but it was not a turn for the better. The exaggerated modern rock production style immediately sounded dated, and the songwriting was not Murphy's best.


In 2005, Bauhaus reunited once more, but it wasn't until 2008 that they released Go Away White. By that time, they'd already very publicly broken up again, and the album appeared with little fanfare. Furthermore, the album was apparently unfinished and came across somewhat rough. There's an undeniable appeal to the unusual looseness of their compositions, but many tracks have sections that seem to be missing parts. Most notably, at one point in "Mirror Remains", Murphy is heard informing Daniel Ash of the opportunity to play a solo, and Ash responds that his minimal part is the solo. Somehow, it's still one of the best songs.

Go Away White sounds like a conscious decision to be more than a sequel to Burning from the Inside. It's practically a completely different band than the one that recorded the first four Bauhaus albums. In retrospect, it sounds like a Peter Murphy solo album with the best backing band he could ask for, i.e. Love & Rockets. Indeed, there are more traces of the sound of Love & Rockets (or even Daniel Ash's solo work) than there are of the original Bauhaus albums. If you consider the album in the light of a supergroup collaboration instead of a continuance of something over 20 years old, it makes more sense and seems like a more successful creation. Still, the inclusion of "The Dog's a Vapour" from the 1998 reunion seems out of place and feels like cheating. The album starts fairly strong, but that track and the forgettable "Zikir" bring the album to a disappointing conclusion.

Murphy toured in 2008 and 2009 without a new album to promote. (I saw his performance in Hannover on that tour.) He eventually released a series of iTunes-only covers across 2009, and he performed those songs on tour in addition to a few other covers and some new songs that would later appear on Ninth. Murphy has always been fond of a good cover (especially when written by David Bowie), so these so-called "Secret Covers" were not particularly surprising. Unfortunately, though, they weren't very good, albeit in each case for different reasons. "Instant Karma" comes off as cheesy and overdone with backing vocals that jar with Murphy's aesthetic. "Space Oddity" is understated, lackluster, and absent enough beauty to make up for the missing energy. "Transmission" is by the numbers, except that Murphy's vocal adjustments only serve to distract and detract. "Hurt" (with Trent Reznor) is good, but feels too much like a copy of the Johnny Cash version. In each case, Murphy's take offers no improvements over the original.


Once Ninth was finally released in 2011, Murphy's recent arc started to make more sense. In retrospect, Go Away White seems like a precursor to Ninth, and the covers were perhaps just a warm-up and reassertion of his presence. However, Ninth is far more polished than either to the point of appearing artificial and overdone. Moving away from Murphy's typical moody and arty work, it's another try at a predictable alternative rock sound, but thankfully it is nowhere near as dated and embarrassing as Unshattered. It's perhaps not as idiosyncratic as other Murphy albums, but it's a semi-successful change of pace, which is invigorating and encouraging for an artist with a 30-year back catalog.

Ninth starts strong, but loses steam quickly. Songs like "Velocity Bird", "Seesaw Sway", and "I Spit Roses" are great exercises in modern rock, with powerful vocals and nice synth touches. "Never Fall Out" is a really good ballad with expressive depth and subtlety. However, "Secret Silk Society" drags on despite the eerie atmosphere, and "Créme de la Créme" is an outlier that would fit in more with Murphy's dramatic older style except that it would be entirely overshadowed. The rest are mostly hard-edged rock songs that don't quite work. One senses that Murphy was trying hard to have an aggressive edge, but it doesn't come off well. Ironically, one of these songs is called "Uneven & Brittle".

Shortly after the album's release, with little fanfare, Murphy released an EP named The Secret Bees of Ninth. Unexpectedly, that EP is everything I wanted from Ninth with none of the try-hard fakery. The four unique tracks are all moody, introspective, haunting ballads in the vein of "Never Fall Out". (The full version of "Secret Silk Society" is nothing particularly special, though, and "Seesaw Sway" is entirely redundant and out of place here.) The EP is less powerful than Ninth, but it makes for a much more consistent and enjoyable listen.


In this same time frame, Murphy had announced that he was reuniting with Mick Karn to work on a new Dali's Car album. Shortly thereafter, Karn was diagnosed with cancer, and he died in early 2011 before the album could be completed. However, Murphy managed to salvage an EP with some assistance (including drumming and mixing by Karn's former Japan bandmate Steve Jansen). In Glad Aloneness eventually came out in 2012, featuring two new compositions, two covers, and a reworked version of "Artemis" from their original 1984 album. It's disappointingly brief, but what is there (especially the two new songs) is great. There's a lot of promise, and it's quite sad to think of what might have been. Evaluating the EP in the context of Murphy's other recent work, it fits right in, but much like with Go Away White, it sounds like a distinctively Murphy-centered work with a top-notch collaborator.

In 2013, apparently disappointed with the undignified end of Bauhaus, Murphy announced a tour with his own backing band that would (almost) exclusively feature Bauhaus songs. This was loosely connected to the 35th anniversary of the band. I didn't make it to any part of the tour, but an official live recording of the LA show, Mr. Moonlight Tour, was released in assorted formats in 2014 and 2015. It presents Murphy taking the easy road, mostly just playing the same greatest hits. He awkwardly introduces several of the songs while the band plays the introductions, and while his voice is strong, he doesn't improve over any other versions. The band similarly do justice to the songs, but also take no risks and keep it reverential. The album (or at least the digital version I listened to) also has unnecessary and disruptive fades between each song. In every single way, it is inferior to Gotham (1998), the defining document of the reunited Bauhaus on stage, as well as Press the Eject and Give Me the Tape (1982) and just about any other live album of the original era.


Murphy's last release of new music as of writing was Lion in 2014, produced and co-written by Youth (Martin Glover). Featuring a heavier and dancier sound, it takes the energy, aggression, and polish of Ninth and pushes it even further, although in a more processed and less rock direction. It makes for a rather dense and cramped listen, as opposed to Murphy's usual celestial expansiveness. It's another interesting change of pace, but again has a feeling of trying hard to be edgy and modern without being very successful at it. Worst of all, in contemporaneous interviews, he repeatedly described the album in arrogant terms as vastly dynamic and diverse. At best, that was irony, because the album is the least varied of any that Murphy has ever been involved with.

A year later, Murphy released Remixes from Lion, which consists of seven extended remixes by Youth, three outtakes, and one "ambient" remix by Richard Thorne. Youth's remixes are unexciting and not substantially different than the originals. The three outtakes are at least somewhat interesting, and they actually provide some of the dynamics and diversity missing from Lion itself. "Gabriel" is a good song, but the other two are excessively lengthy and unspectacular.

Since then, Murphy released Wild Birds Live Tour in 2015, a retread of the Wild Birds compilation set on stage in LA from 2000. It would be fine, except that it is redundant and suffers from what sounds like bizarre compression on the drums and applause. It's incredibly distracting. The bassist flubs a few parts, and Murphy even has to stop in the middle of "Indigo Eyes" because his hand was cramping. At least that part is mildly amusing, and I'm glad they left it in instead of trying to fix it up somehow. However, the album stands in the shadow of Alive Just for Love, Murphy's brilliant live album from 2001 of another LA show from later in 2000. Where that album rearranged the songs for a creative electro-acoustic setting with just two other musicians, this album is a straight run-through with few variations from the norm.

Most recently, Murphy went on the Stripped tour in 2016. (My review of the Austin show is here.) Of the three Murphy shows I've seen, it was my favorite. Coincidentally, it was also somewhat similar in spirit and style to Alive Just for Love. Although I'm getting a little tired of Murphy's recent spate of mediocre live albums, I'm looking forward to his upcoming Bare Boned & Sacred, a document of the Stripped tour from a NYC show.

Murphy's last two decades of work have been all over the place. When he takes a chance and does something adventurous, he often succeeds. When he plays it safe and confines himself to more conventional alternative rock, he does himself a disservice. His attempts to be accessible and trendy are usually his least compelling work. Conversely, when he imbues his music with his own idiosyncratic personality, he shines and often produces something that no one else is capable of. It also seems that Murphy benefits from working with collaborators with their own strong visions. Instead of mere compromise, Murphy brings out the best in all involved parties. While another reunion of Bauhaus is unlikely (and impossible for Dali's Car), there is still promise that Murphy has more creative energy in him yet.

Scores:
Dust (2002): B
Unshattered (2004): D
Go Away White (2008): B
"Secret Covers" singles (2009): C
Ninth (2011): B-
The Secret Bees of Ninth EP (2011): A-
In Glad Aloneness EP (2012): B+
Mr. Moonlight Tour (2014): D
Lion (2014): C+
Remixes from Lion (2015): D+
Wild Birds Live Tour (2015): C-

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Jimmy McDonough - Shakey: Neil Young's Biography (2002)

Title: Shakey: Neil Young's Biography
Author: Jimmy McDonough
Publisher: Random House
Year: 2002


A couple months ago, I was thinking about reading Graham Nash's new book, Wild Tales, but I was sufficiently warded off by advice that it would make me dislike the primary figures portrayed in the book. However, my interest in Nash and his scene had been piqued by the release of CSNY 1974, and I'd also just discovered that Neil Young's Archives Vol. 1 is on Spotify. (This seems utterly bizarre considering his well-known hatred of low-quality digital audio formats). Thus, when I found a copy of Shakey on my parents' bookshelves, I decided to give that a try instead, and so I asked to borrow it.

Shakey had a tumultuous history, and remains somewhat contentious in the hagiography of Neil Young. I don't want to retread water that's been well documented elsewhere, and that includes most of the actual history of the artist in question, but there is still the matter of the quality of the book itself. What I am most concerned about here is the ability of the author of the biography, Jimmy McDonough, to transmit the many-faceted life and music of his subject to the reader.

Two things smack you in the face within the first few pages of the book: the massive ego of the author and the incredible amount of time and energy that went into the project. The lowest points of the book are when McDonough's language gets so ridiculous that you can't take him seriously and you start to question his motives. His opinions are strong and they are scattered all over the book. Avoiding them is impossible. A less-informed reader would come away thinking that Crosby, Stills and Nash are three of the absolute worst humans to have tread this planet (okay, maybe not Crosby), Pearl Jam isn't much better, Crazy Horse is God, Bob Dylan is Jesus, every band from the late 70s through the present is absolute garbage, and Neil Young must be the Second Coming or the Holy Spirit or whatever makes sense out of these awful clichés.

Many people get away with hating contemporary music or new wave or whatever their favorite scapegoat is, but McDonough's virulence is irresponsible. He's allowed to have his opinions, and it wouldn't even bother me if they were presented in a measured fashion, but because he paints in such broad, black-and-white strokes, it's hard not to get distracted. Crazy Horse very well might be his best creative partner, but to pretend that Neil's other collaborators are meritless is unreasonable. For example, CSNY in the early 70s were on fire, even if they never again truly recaptured it; and Neil's album with Pearl Jam (Mirror Ball, 1995) is one of his best and most consistent.

[Mirror Ball.]

Similarly, he tries to portray Young as apolitical, or merely subject to the whims of his time. He successfully makes a point that Neil has appeared out of touch at times, and that he has made his fair share of stupid or ridiculous comments, but he also ignores Neil's long history of political themes. Neil may have become more overt with his subject matter in recent times, but even if you write off the obvious "Ohio", "Southern Man", and "Rockin' in the Free World", what else can one make of songs like "After the Gold Rush", "War Song", "Campaigner", "Homegrown", "Pocahontas", "Powderfinger", "Shots", "Mideast Vacation", "Long Walk Home", "Mother Earth (Natural Anthem)", "Song X", "Act of Love", and so on?

In keeping with his love of Crazy Horse and producer David Brigg's anti-overdub policy, McDonough overlooks that Neil has a perfectionist side that has produced an equal portion of his best work, starting with his Buffalo Springfield masterpieces "Expecting to Fly" and "Broken Arrow", and continuing throughout his career, including some of his best albums, such as Harvest (1972), Comes a Time (1978), Trans (1982), and Freedom (1989). The author tries to portray any carefully crafted album as lacking spirit or soul, but almost all of his albums are a balance of first-take gut instinct and mechanical perfectionism. Young's catalog defies simple categorization. Some of the lopsidedly overproduced albums, like Harvest Moon (1992) are dull and predictable, while some of the more underproduced albums, like Broken Arrow (1996), are lumbering and slipshod.

[Trans.]

Worst of all is his portrayal of CSN, and in particular Graham Nash. While largely excusing Crosby for his regularly awful behavior, and merely writing off Stills as a drugged-out failure, he spares nothing from Nash. The author paints Nash as overly sentimental and unartistically populist, yet fails to appreciate that he brings an element of balance and precision to their collaborations. McDonough cleverly overlooks that Nash and Young have a lot in common, including political interests and personal assistants (i.e. archivist/photographer Joel Bernstein). In fact, he never mentions the joint Nash-Young single "War Song" from 1972 at all, nor Nash's Wurlitzer contribution to "On the Beach". His role in the Time Fades Away tour and album and his many vocal contributions to Neil's songs performed with CSNY are also downplayed. Despite the author's negativity, the very photo on the cover of the book was taken by Nash!

Another strange element, perhaps fitting into the author's overwhelming prejudices, is that he refused to interview several important people, including erstwhile record company owner David Geffen and latter-day collaborators Pearl Jam and Booker T & the MGs. Considering the number of subjects interviewed, these exclusions are obviously deliberate, and the author even calls them out specifically in the endnotes. The reasoning is apparently left as an exercise for the reader. Several subjects are also mentioned as ignoring or refusing interviews, including Bob Dylan and Stephen Stills. (Also, bizarrely, Beck.) While perhaps disappointing, their voices are hardly missed, and this is presumably no fault of the author's.

Instead, several sections of the book focus on otherwise unknown, hyper-obsessive fans that the reader is given no reason to care about. Two of these figures, Ken Viola and Dave McFarlin, are repeatedly quoted and interviewed. Neither seems to offer a particularly sophisticated or unique perspective, yet both are treated as sage voices of the truth. Why their opinions are relevant is left unclear.

A more complex subject is the author's treatment of Neil Young's family. First wife Susan Acevedo apparently declined to be interviewed, but she is still discussed. Young's next long-term partner, Carrie Snodgrass, and their child together, Zeke, are both interviewed and discussed, but when the narrative reaches the point of Neil's marriage to Pegi, the author states that he decided not to enter that space. Hence, Pegi is hardly mentioned at all, and it is unclear if she was even interviewed. Their two children together are also minimally discussed, except for son Ben's struggles with cerebral palsy.

I don't think McDonough's decision is necessarily a bad one, but since Neil's personal life from that point largely becomes a transparent void, the narrative loses a lot of its force and weight. Up to that point, his life is analyzed and processed just as much as his musical endeavors, but after the mid-70s, Neil is presented as a purely musical entity. I understand the desire to respect the privacy of his children, but we lose a lot of perspective on what drives and defines Neil. Halfway through the book, the narrative has just reached February 1971, only a few years into Young's career. Much of his music-making career, throughout the 80s up until the manuscript was completed in 1998, is given a rushed, at best precursory treatment.

To make it worse, as the narrative carries on, the author begins to insert himself into the narrative. His ego is large enough that he describes telling Neil that some of his material was terrible and shouldn't be released. Apparently, he didn't know what else to say about Neil's career in the 90s, so he just writes about hanging out in Neil's tour bus and model train barn. These might be interesting or unusual parts of Neil's life, but no one cares about how the author fits into them.

[Homegrown (unreleased, but recorded in 1974).]

McDonough's text makes for a frustrating read. He gets so much right – he digs deep into Neil's circle, he doesn't shy away from Neil's eccentricity, he researches all the obscure unreleased material, he describes all the best concerts and tours that you'd never know happened in Santa Cruz or New Zealand or wherever, and he doesn't always paint Neil in the best light. Shakey convinced me to immediately start seeking out a bunch of bootlegs I didn't heretofore know existed and to give some of his weirder, less popular albums another listen. That right there is indicative of a successful rock biography.

But on the other hand, the author's arbitrarily harsh opinions too often get in the way of the story. His over-the-top style of trying to come off as some sort of streetwise hustler only makes him seem immature and less credible. His blatant preference for the seedy, grainy side of everything tarnishes his perspective on anything fashioned in any other manner. And while the thoroughness of the book is hardly a fault, the length is a little excessive when you consider how much of the material relating to himself or to irrelevant fans could be trimmed. I wanted to read a book about Neil Young, not a book about Jimmy McDonough and his fanboy preoccupations.

Score: B

References and Further Reading:

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Guest Review at Film Walrus: The Faint - "Agenda Suicide" Video

I know I've been quite inactive over the past few months, which is quite a shame. Schoolwork has been heavy, but I only have three weeks left in the semester, at which point I'll have a more relaxed summer to return to writing reviews (even though I'll be in Germany for most of it).

In the meantime, my brother offered me the opportunity to review a music video for his animated shorts series on his film review blog. I reviewed The Faint's "Agenda Suicide" video (from 2002). Here's the link:

http://filmwalrus.blogspot.com/2008/04/poor-little-animated-shorts-guest.html

Thanks again to the Film Walrus for the opportunity.