Top 100 Albums - #12: The Two Towers OST (2002)

Howard Shore's second entry comes with his soundtrack to The Two Towers, the second film in Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy.
Shore's working relationship with Peter Jackson began in 1999. The two met as a result of Shore's work on Analyse This (1999), starring Robert De Niro. Jackson began shooting the three films of his trilogy (simultaneously) in October that year, and Shore was officially contracted to compose the score in August 2000. After visiting the various sets all over New Zealand, and viewing the rough cuts of both the first and last films, Shore set to work, initially in Wellington, but then moving onto Watford and then being mixed at Abbey Road. Shore composed the score for The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), which incorporated the main theme of the trilogy, in between meeting commitments for The Cell (2000) and The Score (2001), another De Niro vehicle. Following the success of The Fellowship of the Ring at the box office, expectations were high for the follow-up the following year.

'Foundations Of Stone' begins this second installment, and it's a magnificent start. The piece opens with a sweet yet melancholy French horn section which gently guides you in before the main opening theme takes hold. Before long you're in the sweet company of the violins as you glide like an eagle over the mountains of Haethiglir. But then, just as soon as you've got comfortable, the drums begin to pound, the brass section rears its head, and you're plunged into the heart of Gandalf (Ian McKellen) battling the Balrog. The deep strings, deafening brass and chilling choir chanting drags you right down into the bowels of hell, as if the world is collapsing all around you. And only at the very brink of insanity does the music releases its grip on your neck (and ears) and you are allowed to wake from the dream. It's a breathless, blistering opening track.

After all that, we need something to calm us down, and 'The Taming Of Sméagol' attempts that very well. The clarinet solo at the start pulls the epic from grandiosity back to the relationship between Frodo (Elijah Wood) and Sam (Sean Astin). It's a piece of two halves and the name is ambiguous. On the one hand, it's a 'taming' of the opener to fit within the story, an attempt to resettle us to focus on the plot. On the other hand, it heralds the arrives of Sméagol (a.k.a. Gollum, played by Andy Serkis) who arrives amid tense strings in the second half. Shore is still content to shock us about a minute before the end, but this time the heart attack is smaller and more manageable.

'The Riders Of Rohan' diverts attention from Frodo and Sam onto Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen), Legolas (Orlando Bloom) and Gimli (John Rhys-Davies), running across the plains in pursuit of Merry (Dominic Monaghan) and Pippin (Billy Boyd). As before there is a lot of tension in this piece, in order to introduce the Riders, and in particular Eomer (Karl Urban), as an aggressive force. This is not as aggressive or as frightening as 'Foundations Of Stone'; like much of The Return Of The King OST (2003, #16), there are anticlimactic moments peppered through, designed to take you to the edge and then drag you back. It's a strange way of sustaining your interests, but it works, especially with the arrival of the signature theme on violin in the second half.

Having introduced a whole host of characters, we dash back to Frodo and Sam in 'The Passage Of The Marshes'. There's more forboding strings at the start, which weave their way through the speakers like dark vapours rising rapidly from the boggy pits through which our heroes tread. Much like on 'Shelob's Lair' in The Return Of The King, the high strings provide a descant which is enough to shred your nerves, and after that the brass sucks you down. The voices, being a lot quieter on this piece, are faintly reminiscent of those of the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), and the whole result is very pleasing.

'The Uruk-Hai' is also pleasing, but in a different way. This is the first piece devoted to Merry and Pippin in the score, and begins very ordinarily with some military-style horns. But before long, the cavalry arrives in the form of the theme tune and you're flung into the heart of their plight. To be honest, it's not that distinctive from other parts of all three scores which use the theme as a base around which the other riffs are constructed. In fact it can feel like a medley of all the main themes, but it's still not a bad track when taken in context.

'The King Of The Golden Hall' is more distinctive. The violins at the start are not as rich as those we heard in 'The Riders Of Rohan'. They're more tightly strung - perhaps literally - and the mood is clouded over and subdued. It still manages to be warm, but there is a distance to its warmth, and a feeling of the best being gone - exactly what Shore and Peter Jackson were trying to achieve. About two minutes in, the mood changes again to forbidding, complete with deep bassoons and frantic horns, making this a piece that always keeps you guessing.

'The Black Gate Is Closed' takes us back to the ringbearers, confronted with the sight of Mordor for the first time. As you'd expect, Shore sets up a deep horn section with majestic, sinister long notes, so that a wall of sound is towering before us, both dangerous and impregnable. If you've seen the film, part of you can't help but wish that Shore had included some of the soldier's voices in the middle, or even some military drumming, to give a greater sense of the scene's progression. But of course, that's not his style. This is not Karl Jenkins' The Armed Man (2001) and while not every precise moment of the characters is captured, it does well with what it has.

'Evenstar' and 'The White Rider' return the focus to Aragorn and the world of men. The former is a highly ethereal piece which depicts a flashback to him and Arwen (Liv Tyler) in Rivendell. Like a lot of their scenes, this is tender and romantic, but there is a tragic side which we haven't really seen before. In the first film Arwen struggles over sacrificing her immortality; in the last film Aragorn struggles over his fate as the true king of Gondor. Here the two struggles meet and find love, amid the sweet violins and beautiful vocals of Isabel Bayrakdarian. The latter is more dramatic, chronicling the resurrection of Gandalf and his meeting with Aragorn et al in Fangorn Forest. It's not completely overblown, but neither does it commit the worse mistake of coming over all prissly and self-righteous. It's a fine piece.

'Treebeard' keeps the focus on Fangorn, but moves to be with Merry and Pippin. The bassoons return to signal danger, just as they do in Sergei Prokofiev's Peter and the Wolf (1936), and as then a clarinet swims through the mix as a calming influence once it is clear whose side the eponymous Ent is on (insofar as he is on anyone's side). This has a more Celtic feel to it than anything else on here, which is fitting considering that Treebeard is representative of nature rather than man or machines. It's also a lot less obtrusive; the riffs are allowed to repeat and shuffle along without interjection or hurry. It's a very measured piece, and is thoroughly enjoyable for it.

'The Leave Taking' is also down-tempo, with the violins taking second fiddle to the flutes at first. Once again, however, the mood is more tragic, as the focus shifts back to Arwen's future, and that of the elves. Having convinced his daughter to go to the Grey Havens, Elrond (Hugo Weaving) is visited (figuratively) by Galadriel (Cate Blanchett), who convinces him that now is the time to renew the allegiance between elves and men. The woodwind section provides a distant, haunting melody as the strings create a tailored suspense.

After so much quietened-down mood music, 'Helm's Deep' is a right royal kick up the jacksy. The tempos are faster, the drums return, the voices are more stricken - everything about it is designed to make you tense. And why not? It's a battle scene after all. But even though it's a battle scene, it's not all quick brass and savage strings, like in The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe OST (2005, #15). There are moments, even before the main theme comes in at the end, of languid, prosaic phrases, some of which are necessary in chronicling the presumed death of Aragorn, the rest of which serve at best as an interesting contrast, and at worst as an odd (but not bad) choice for such a scene.

After a long while in the world of men, 'The Forbidden Pool' takes us back to the hobbits, now on their way to Minas Morgul and heading into the eastern-most reaches of Gondor. The strings sit somewhat awkwardly in this piece; they serve a purpose but they can't quite make up whether that's to set the scene or to describe the characters. At the point where Gollum enters the pool they hang suspended like Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings (1938). Eventually they get the idea and serve as mood music for the conversations between Frodo and Faramir (David Wenham). This is by no means a brilliant track, but despite its flaws it's still good when taken in the context of the whole score.

Of all the pieces in all three Lord of the Rings soundtracks, 'Breath Of Life' is by far and away the best. It features the vocal talents of Sheila Chandra, whose contributions to the Celtic folk scene are of mixed quality, especially her collaboration with Chris Wood on The Imagined Village (2007). Here, though, she is beyond perfect. Her voice comes shimmering out of the mix, and in the four long notes between 0:17 and 0:23 she takes over your heart. She resonates perfectly, not just with the music, but with every fibre of your being so that you cannot help but feel attached and connected to the events in the film. After a quiet section in the middle, as Aragorn revives, the track draws you back up to speed with his arrival at Helm's Deep, in a passage which could have easily been used for the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, had Shore been commissioned on such a project. This is an amazing track: everything works without being overwhelming, it's unique and yet a fitting part of the score. It is, quite simply, sublime.

Neither 'The Hornburg' nor 'Forth Eorlingas' can live up to such a track, but they're still cracking pieces of music in their own right. 'The Hornburg' opens with the familiar, now slightly tired theme on strings, but soon it morphs into a tragic, funereal cry as the walls of Helm's Deep are breached. Shore does give us a taste of military drumming at 1:53, as though he had heard our earlier complaints about 'The Black Gate Is Closed', and he continues it (with some compromise) through until the end. 'Forth Eorlingas', meanwhile, is all the pomp and circumstance of the last track without any of the repetitive rhythms. The early voice work captures the guilt and indecision of Théoden (Bernard Hill) beautifully, before the charge begins and victory is snatched from the jaws of defeat. Just as on 'Minas Tirith' in The Return Of The King, Ben Del Maestro gives a brilliant performance on guest vocals.

'Isenguard Unleashed' opens like a carbon copy of 'Lothlorien' from The Fellowship Of The Ring OST, with Elizabeth Fraser's vocals being almost whispered and full of mourning. Very soon, however, this departs from 'Lothlorien' and explodes with almost as much ferocity as 'Foundations Of Stone'. With the arrival of the Ents as a force on the side of men, the piece shrinks back down, capturing first the sadness of Treebeard and then the last march of the Ents to Isengard and to their doom. But things soon get brighter, with the brass gleefully resurgent with another battle scene on its hands. It's yet another fine track.

'Samwise The Brave' is rather a sentimental piece. It may not pull directly on your heartstrings like a romantic comedy score, but it's the sort of piece that suits a great speech or tender moment between the two protagonists (which is exactly what it does, albeit not romantically). We get the 'In Dreams' theme again, and the piece ends with hope as our heroes journey on towards Mordor. Except, that is, for the final minute, where Gollum's monologue is played out and his planned betrayal is revealed to the audience in a moment of bitter dramatic irony.

The closer, 'Gollum's Song', is sung by Icelandic songstress Emiliani Torrini. Indeed it has become her signature tune. Her voice takes a lot of getting used to, being nowhere near as silky or as pure as either Enya on 'May It Be' or Annie Lennox on 'Into The West'. It's husky and breathless, and yet sad, and that is why it works - it fits in with both the sounds of the score and the mood of the film. Unlike Lennox's performance, which was sentimental beyond measure, this is more brooding and forbidding. It genuinely grows on you, like a lot of Shore's music, making it the perfect way to round off the album.

As a score, The Two Towers achieves the same successes of The Return Of The King: it works as both individual pieces of music, which can be listened to in any order, and as a unified soundtrack, which can be listened to all the way through, and which reflects the film to which it is set. But unlike The Return Of The King, which was dragged down by its need to tie up all the loose ends, this will thrill you like very little else. The three interwoven story lines which chop and change between each other are flung together in such a way that you get an adrenaline rush as you dart from one encounter to the next. The number of battle scenes, particularly the skirmish at Helm's Deep, are deeply exciting and hugely powerful, and the whole album feels full of life and lustre. The anticlimactic moments may drive casual listeners up the wall a little, and it doesn't have the slightly grandiose majesty of The Fellowship Of The Ring, but it cannot be denied that, despite this, The Two Towers OST is something very special indeed.

4.11 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #18: Charango (2002)

Morcheeba's penultimate chart entry is Charango, their fourth album and the last to feature Skye Edwards on vocals.
After the warm reception accorded to Big Calm (1998, #54), Morcheeba began to experiment with sounds outside of their trip-hop roots. The resulting album, Fragments Of Freedom (2000), was much more poppy in tone, meeting with poor reviews but the best sales of the band's career, along with a hit single, 'Rome Wasn't Built In A Day'. Following the tour to promote both album and single, the band signed to Warner Bros. Records - departing from Sire - and began to work on new material. To whet the fans' appetite, the group released Back To Mine (2001), a compilation album of artists that inspired the Godfrey Brothers. All the tracks were remixed and the album also featured 'On The Rhodes Again', an off-cut from Who Can You Trust? (1996).

Things couldn't start more perfectly. 'Slow Down' is a chilled-out classic, featuring all the ingredients that made Big Calm so compelling: rich production, smooth lyrics and a sultry performance from Skye. The track opens with a sweet duet between a cello and a guitar, the former subtlely rasping in the bass lines while the later whines sweetly through its highest registers. Skye's voice is as smoky and as teasing as it was on Big Calm, but all the tragedy present on that record has been replaced by a relaxed state of contentment. There is nothing logically wrong with this song - the production is flawless, the musicianship is brilliantly balanced, and nothing is allowed to drag or dominate unduly. It's an absolute treat of an opening track.

'Otherwise' can't really compete, but don't think that it's a bad song because of this. We get more strings (violins this time), but the feel is very different. Where 'Slow Down' was a laid-back chillout classic, this is a cool three-minute single. Well, three-and-a-bit. The lyrics are a lot more simply structured, but this just makes them catchier; the chorus in particular manages to be easily memorable while hanging on to some substance. Skye is given more room on this track, and responds by letting herself go just a little.

'Aqualung' is more fun, with funkier touches on the production and in the choice of instruments. The bass especially is given more room, coupling with the dance-y drums to drive the track forward. We get more strings too, serving up some sweet harmonies in between the multi-tracked vocals. Finally, we get a very nice flute solo in the middle, which keeps you on your toes. So often flutes can sound horrible on record, but once again the Godfrey Brothers prove themselves to be masters of the art.

'São Paulo' is probably the saddest track on this album. Being pop, there is only so much emotion that can be conveyed before it becomes overbearing and esoteric. Here Skye returns to singing his tears, lamenting that her life is one big cliché and regretting a past love. Her sultry tones blend beautifully with the harmonica, so that we are truly taken to the Brazilian shanty towns that surround the city. Everything about this track is marvellous, as once again we are confronted with perfect production: immaculate enough so that you can sit back and relax, but tantalising enough to let your ears wander.

The title track is the first glimpse we get on here on Morcheeba dropping the ball. Both title tracks on Big Calm and Fragments Of Freedom were empty and below-par instrumentals, with occasional lyrics shoved on in a vague attempt to sustain your interest. And this is no different. By the time Pace Won comes in with any lyrics, you're bored with the riffs and scratches, and so will struggle to notice.

Happily, however, we get our money's worth on the next track. 'What New York Couples Fight About' sees Skye dueting with Kurt Wagner, who half-whispers, half-croons his lyrics in a manner which is completely captivating. The two sets of vocals gel very nicely, so that you quickly ignore any weak links in the actual lyrics (of which there are few). This track is a little too long - at 6:16 it's the longest on the album - but as with 'Slow Down' there isn't much to drag this down or hold the duo back. Listen hard for the gorgeous lap steel in the second chorus.

'Undress Me Now' is the second single to be culled from the album, and kicks off the second half in some style. The strings are still there, as is the prominent dance-influenced bass, but we get some acoustic guitar added to the mix at the start. Perhaps this is an indication of Skye's differing styles, present on her first solo effort, Mind How You Go (2006, #24). It's not the most substancial song ever recorded, but it sits charmingly and comfortably amid the other tracks.

'Way Beyond' is the last truly great track on here, if not the last truly great track Morcheeba have produced to date. Skye is probably the only female singer who can take an opening line like Driving with your handbrake on/ But you can't smell the burning and turn it into a believable romance ode. This is clearly her song; not only is her performance more connected and more personal, but the instruments surrounding her have been arranged to compliment it perfectly. The casual, jazzy trumpet in the chorus, for instance, feels made for her voice, rather than just another backing part shoved on in the control room. It's a beautiful song, perfectly written and wonderfully served up.

Having gone all serious on us, Morcheeba bring back the fun factor with 'Women Lose Weight'. Guest vocalist Slick Rick takes the limelight in this tale about a man killing his wife, delivering in a macabre but surprisingly playful manner. It's very tongue-in-cheek, but it manages to carry itself off on the strength of its lyrics. The storyline isn't exactly as hard as Ulysses to follow, but it's well thought out, fits snugly into the rhythm and it doesn't try to be too clever, leaving most of the imagery to the listeners.

We then segue into 'Get Along', Pace Won's second guest spot on vocals. It's very different to the title track, but it still comes up short on content. Skye gives her all but the vocals are lazy and repetitive, and things don't improve when the male part comes in (fast as your pasta, anyone?). This is possibly redeemed by the guitar workout at the end, but even this isn't good enough. 'Public Displays Of Affection' is better, with Skye back on form and in a complaining mood. She bemoans kissing lovers, welded orally, turning it inwards as a statement to her perceived insignificance (I can't wait for my next rejection/ I'm always the first in the queue). The verse and chorus structure is still quite rigid, but there is enough going on to keep things moving.

As on the previous two albums, we close with an instrumental, and not an especially good one. 'The Great London Traffic Warden Massacre' may have a title lifted from psychedelic rock, but it feels like nothing of the sort. Instead it's a bouncy hotch potch of a number, borrowing little snippets from all over the place but never bringing them together into anything that feels like a coalesced whole. In essence it's a loop, in the same way that Pink Floyd's 'Terminal Frost' is a loop (see my review of A Momentary Lapse Of Reason (1987, #62). But where that grows slowly, and sustains your interest throughout, this will see you sink slowly into sleep, wishing that it would stop.

Certain editions of the album feature a second disc, containing instrumental versions of all tracks. As a general rule they do not differ in quality from the standard versions, and as a result will not be of much interest to anyone who doesn't have a pressing interest in either sound engineering or karaoke. They do however serve a useful purpose as a passing contrast to the finished products, if only to remind us how integral Skye really is in the Morcheeba sound.

One complaint that could be made about Charango is that it is too complete, too serious. It is more grown-up and more refined than its predecessor, and some of the fun has gone. But something else has replaced the fun: a sense of contentment and purpose. If Fragments Of Freedom was like a white mural with pots of paint thrown over it - lots of fun but hardly the prettiest thing to behold - then this is Constable's The Hay Wain (1821) - a meticulous, perfectly crafted work of beauty, whose quality breeds a snobbish attitude. It is the culmination of all that made Morcheeba technically great, with production that is a million miles from their smoky, static-filled beginnings. It is not their finest album, because of the inconsistent vocal contributions and lack of brevity in parts of the lyrics, but there is no denying that the band have never sounded cleaner and brighter. As a collection of individual songs, all jostling for position, Fragments beats this hands down - but as an experience, Charango is by far the band's best album.

4.00 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #22: Up (2002)

Peter Gabriel's penultimate chart entry is Up, the long-awaited follow-up to Us (1992, #39).
After the release of Us in September 1992, Gabriel embarked on a massively successful world tour, captured on the album Secret World Live (1994) and on the subsequent DVD. The tour featured a menagerie of the most highly skilled musicians, from long-time collaborators Tony Levin and David Rhodes to newcomer Paula Cole, whose performances helped to kick-start her solo career. Gabriel spent the next few years tying up the loose ends of the tour while beginning the recordings for what would become Big Blue Ball (2008), a multi-national collaboration headed up with Karl Wallinger. In 1997, he embarked on a project for the Millennium Dome, to design a show and compose the music for the celebrations on New Year's Eve, 1999. The project, which ran through two years, eventually produced OVO (2000, #81). In 2002 he composed Long Walk Home, the soundtrack for the award-winning film Rabbit-Proof Fence, about the plight of Australian aborigines.

A good opener should always make the mood of the album clear, and 'Darkness' achieves it in spades. For the first 30 seconds it is tentative, obsessive and scarily quiet; you know that something else is coming, but you also begin to relax. Then the whole mix explodes in front of your eyes. Rhodes' guitar is angry and distorted, Manu Katche's drums are ferocious, and the whole experience sends adrenaline rushing through your veins. Gabriel, meanwhile, sits in the eye of the storm, reciting the lyrics like a poem while his voice is altered as he sees fit. This does make it harder to understand first time out, but after a while you don't really notice.

'Growing Up' is a lot less in-your-face - which comes as a relief - but is hardly worse off where substance is concerned. The deep cello at the start reminds you that we are still dealing with the tragic side of the human condition. While the single version contained on Hit (2003, #72) could have passed for punchy, this is more meticulous and drawn out. It may have a faster beat, but there is a lot more going on; it entices you, it tempts you, but you still have to make your own way in. Gabriel's lyrics are more arty than his mid-80s commercial period. Indeed, the bridge would not have been out of place on Foxtrot (1972):

Well, on the floor, there's a long wooden table
On the table, there's an open book
On the page, is a detailed drawing
And on the drawing is the name I took

If sources are to believed, 'Sky Blue' took twenty years to complete. And yet, at first glance, it is suspiciously familiar. Fans who bought Long Walk Home will be quick to spot the similarities with 'Cloudless' from that album - the almost identical riffs, The Blind Boys of Alabama on backing vocals, and the spacious, pathos-riddled production. On closer inspection, however, this is not just Peter repeating himself. By adding in some electronic paraphernalia at the start, and a decent set of lyrics, he has taken the best elements of a distinctly average track and made them into what they should always have been.

'No Way Out' begins - after a while - with one of the best guitar riffs recorded in the last 10 years. Rhodes plays the four-measure phrase on his Fender Strat with a unique, sinister menace; the reverb is so great and deep that it sound like a bass, and that makes it frightening. This pulsating riff is counterpointed by the fingertippy piano of Gabriel and Levin's funky but unimposing bass. This is the first track to deal solely with death, and it wins the first battle by setting a bleak mood. Gabriel then pulls off a neat second trick with a set of lyrics which stand at an odd angle but eventually become clear. He peruses over the second verse - and the subject of goldfish - as if he is in mourning for a lost friend. Couple all this with the repeating emotion plea - I'm not quitting on you - and you have one of the best songs he has crafted in a long time.

'I Grieve' is often believed to have been written as a response to the 9/11 attacks. Although I stated this in an earlier blog entry, this is actually a myth, since the song was written and completed in its present form as far back as 1998 (I apologise). Despite this, you do sense that Gabriel is singing these words with his loved ones in mind. Just as his elder daughter Anna was the subject of 'Come Talk To Me' on Us, so he could easily be singing this about his younger daughter, Melanie. In any case, he is certainly using this track as a means of silencing critics who were saying that his voice had withered in the intervening years. It has certainly changed, but he can still get upstairs when he needs to and sound bloody amazing in the process.

For 'The Barry Williams Show', however, the words we're looking for are 'bloody stupid'. The whole thing, from start to finish, feels ham-fisted, outdated, corny and sometimes downright embarrassing. This is a case of Gabriel trying to prove that he is still cool, can still keep up with the kids of today. That is a grave error since: (a) they probably don't want to know; and (b) Gabriel's commercial success was never premeditated or packaged - that's what made it so compelling then, and now. This feels fake, really fake - fake enough to make you reach for the off switch and despair that someone of his stature could have sunk so low.

If, on the other hand, you have the patience of a saint (or a album blogger), you will still be around for when the album gets back on track. 'My Head Sounds Like That' is a welcome return or retreat to introspective mood pieces, packed from end to end with solemn soundscapes and dolorous piano. This time we get the Black Dyke Band as well; they lit up OVO and they achieve the same effect here. The tempo may be ponderous, but this is compensated for by Gabriel's performance. He takes the cryptic style of lyrics, as on 'Lay Your Hands On Me', and then strains his vocal chords to shift the piece up a gear (see my review of Peter Gabriel 4 (1982, #80). The break is especially good, as the sounds and words mash together and start messing with your mind.

'More Than This' is the most upbeat we get on Up. Which is a shame, because whether as an album track or as a single, this is not a good song. This is an example Peter is trying too hard - not to be cool, as before, but to be interesting. There are some lovely touches: the opening riff isn't all that bad, and Rhodes' bright phrase at 0:56 could really have gone somewhere in the region of 'Solsbury Hill'. But there is so many little motifs like these going on, that it ends up as a chaotic, incoherent flop.

'Signal To Noise' soon puts that to rights - and some. The distinctive dropping drum in the first few seconds, along with the atmospheric violins, make you realise that this is going to be something special. Gabriel begins the first verse in a downbeat, jazzy sneer, and then goes into a full-blown scream with only the deep strings to keep him tied down. Throughout this wondrous track, you can sense him wanting to break free, wanting to snap and speak his mind. But every time he is trapped by this rich, tantalising vapour of noise, where it be electronic tics, reverberated drums or the solo performance of the late Nusrah Fateh Ali Khan. In the final third of your song, your tried patience is melded with paranoia and fear as the track rises, and rises, and rises. Only now, with both singer and listener at a critical level, does the whole thing explode, blossoming into a frenzied and terrifying finish, with violins duelling Dhol drums and Gabriel in the centre screaming Receive and transmit! You come away completely blown apart, having heard the best and scariest track on the album.

'The Drop' is the closer, and it's just as well that it's a solemn, quiet affair. With only a piano on his person, Gabriel half-croons, half-whispers this song about flying and the brevity of life. You picture yourself either in an aeroplane, looking down on city lights, or else lying on a bed surrounded by naked lights, steadily dimming until the silence becomes complete. The lyrics, brief as they are, dwell deep inside your head; you will be thinking about them for days until their personal meaning becomes clear.

For an album about death and the bleak nature of life, Up is not exactly a hackneyed suicide note or the musings of a sad old man. It's hardly Gabriel's most optimistic work, and so fans of his more commercial stuff will be unpleasantly surprised. For those, on the other hand, who like an album to slowly unwind and reveal itself according to how much attention you give it, this is an inspired work. Like Us, you will hear something new and interesting every time you play it, either all the way through or by sampling its component parts. Unfortunately, there are odd moments where Gabriel goes too far in his introspection, or where he forgets that what made him successful was the quality of his songs rather than any desire to be famous. But while Us occassionally flattered you with reassuring songs, Up is always egging you on, always pushing you deeper and further into the dark areas of your soul. It may take longer to fathom, it may even drive you round the twist - but you emerge at the other end more complete, more inspired, and more fulfilled.

4.00 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #29: Details (2002)

At number 29 is the only release from ambient electro duo Frou Frou, comprised of singer-songwriter Imogen Heap and producer Guy Sigsworth.
Heap was introduced to Sigsworth during the production of her debut album, I Megaphone (1998). Sigsworth had written and produced songs for the likes of Seal and Madonna, but it was his work with Björk which brought him to the attention of Heap's label, Almo Records. After the end of the tour to support I Megaphone, Almo Records was bought and disbanded, leaving Heap without a record deal and with her protean second album caught up in legal red tape. Sigsworth came to her aid and began writing tracks with her while his own band, Acacia, sorted out its own legal problems. Over the course of 2001 the pair met up spontaneously to record individual songs, so that by December they had officially become a duo. The name Frou Frou came from Arthur Rimbaud's poem 'Ma Bohème', and is onomatopoeia for the swishing noise made by dancing women's skirts. The duo made a tentative first appearance with the track 'Aeroplane' on the Japanese re-release of I Megaphone, testing the water before releasing their own album.

'Let Go' sets the mood on the album, and from the start it is a departure from Heap's previous work. While many of the songs on I Megaphone featured dark, heavy piano ('Come Here Boy' and 'Candlelight' especially), here the feel is a lot more swirling and electronic. When the piano does eventually come in, it's high and dainty, backed by a tinny drum beat. That means that it is entirely up to Heap to deliver the goods in terms of depth, and thankfully she succeeds. The wonderful thing about Heap's voice is that it can dart in and out of notes, without sounding electronically altered. It's a very good start.

But sadly, this is not completely sustained, as the next track shows. 'Breathe In' begins with a hugely frustrating riff, played on a tweaked guitar and backed by an annoying click. With the intro over, Heap is forced to sing over the drums which are too loud and obtrusive. Her voice is not the most powerful in the business, and so she sounds drowned out and distant. It's not massively unpleasant as a track, but it feels just a little too close to the mainstream to be a bona fide Heap track.

Thankfully, the next two tracks are bona fide. On 'It's Good To Be In Love', Heap is given more room, with the keyboards pushed to the back of the mix and the drums muffled into a corner. This is also a lot more satisfying as a set of lyrics; the chorus may be a little cheesy, but everywhere else Heap is getting into her stride. No particular lines leap out, but there is a tight, holistic feel to them, and they flow well with the soundscape created by Sigsworth. 'Must Be Dreaming' is, as the title suggests, more dreamy, more wistful. It opens with the multi-tracked whispered vocals which Heap would utilise on Speak For Yourself (2005), and from then on in, it is Heap's song straight through. Unlike on 'Breathe In', here you get the sense that she is in control, taming the sterile soundscape and shaping it to suit her mood to create something very interesting.

'Psychobabble', however, is something else. From the second the intro begins - on what sounds like treated tubular bells - you realise that the quality levels are creeping up. Sigsworth lays on a snaking, slithering backing track, which wriggles in and out of the foreground inbetween the vocals. Heap is now fully in control, with her unique delivery coming properly into play; even on the opening lines, How did you get this number?/ I can't get my head 'round you, you can hear every word clearly and purely, and yet she is singing with a lot of frustration and fear in her voice. It is difficult to put one's finger of what makes this track such a thrill, but there is an unquestionable magic to it which defies both description and explanation. Suffice to say, it's a brilliant song.

'Only Got One' is not quite up to that standard, but it's hardly a pedestrian effort. The strangely off-set riff in the first 18 seconds creates a laid-back, intellectual atmosphere, over which Heap can gently drift. We will let her off with lines like You are held in a queue/ Someone will be with you shortly, or put them down to irony, because they do not compromise the pleasant mood of this distinctly 21st-century work about living life to the full.

'Shh' gets out of the blocks a lot better than the others. The lyrics come straight in, matching the compressed riff beat for beat throughout the song. The chorus especially is an improvement on previous efforts:

Don't make a sound
Shh and listen
Keep your head down
We're not safe yet
Don't make a sound
And be good for me
'Cos I know they're waiting somewhere out here

This song also sees Sigsworth pulling his weight. At 3:20 he creates a throbbling, pulsating dance beat, like the quiet sections of a Faithless record, which gives the song a lot more character. Finally the Frou Frou sound is beginning to become clear.

If 'Psychobabble' was a great work, 'Hear Me Out' is a masterpiece. Heap is on full-flung form, with brilliant lyrics about a failing relationship, delivered with an air of desperate passion - and yet she still sounds so damn cool. There is nothing to distract you from her wonderful performance, since the accompaniment is generally serene, and when Sigsworth's creations do rear their heads (at about 2:29), Heap is completely at ease, responding with a cleverly-controlled violence that we would later see on songs like 'Daylight Robbery' and 'The Walk' (both from Speak For Yourself). The multi-tracked vocals, with their characteristic echo, generate a wonderful wall of sound (or perhaps Heap of sound?) which is captured in all its radiance by some spot-on production. This is by far the best track on here.

After the best track, we come to the worst. 'Maddening Shroud' begins with a superbly annoying descent down the scale by Heap, making her sound prissy and childish. As the song progresses, you become more forgiving, and the later sections feel good. But the background chimes still get on your nerves and you come away feeling cheated. 'Flicks' is no better, with its messed-up vibraphone and Heap's excrutiating showboating, first heard at 1:09. The lyrics read like student poetry; without form or anything compelling - which is a big worry.

But before you become desperately compelled to cut this experience short, we return to form with the final two tracks. 'The Dumbing Down Of Love' is a sweet, elegant piano ballad. Sigsworth, save for a few well-timed interventions, is out of the picture altogether. What this means is that Heap has more to play with, gently sparring with the violins and piano while all the time presenting something beautiful and heartfelt. It's not quite perfect, being a little too long, but it contains that most truthful of lines: Music is worthless unless it can/ Make a complete stranger/ Break down and cry.

'Old Piano' continues the piano theme, but this time the production is headier, and heavier. It takes a while for any sort of melody to come in from the rain. But when it does, the wait becomes worthwhile. The simple, bittersweet piano chords mingle with the sad saxophone and repressed strings, and Heap comes across as rather spooky, teasing you with her Oh wells. This is a mood piece, make no mistake, but it feels like something more substantial, and it sounds a lot more rewarding. But it still retains every ounce of Heap's elegance and is a very fitting closer.

In many ways, Details is a flawed record. Many of the songs are too long, and the lyrics are generally below-par, making it just a little too mainstream to be a proper Imogen Heap work. A lot of this is naturally down to Sigsworth, who would later go on to produce Madonna's sterile, electro-grounded American Life (2003). His often overbearing touches from the mixing desk either drown Heap out or simply make things too complicated, and as a result the best moments are when Heap is largely left to her own devices. But don't think that this is a complete failure - quite the opposite. For all the filler and falling short, there is some tantalising glimpses of brilliance, both in what these two have created in their own right and in the techniques which would make Speak For Yourself such an amazing record. Details, in short, has an air of frustrated elegance; it's the sort of album you would play in a left-field espresso bar, while you sit at the window and watch the world go by. It's not perfect, but there is plenty on here to make you feel great inside.

3.92 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #43: The Best of 1990-2000 (2002)

U2's penultimate entry is The Best of 1990-2000, a compilation which sums up the second full decade of the band's career, drawing on the albums Achtung Baby (1991), Zooropa (1993), Pop (1997) and All That You Can't Leave Behind (2000).After the shaky reception of the semi-live album Rattle And Hum (1988), and the resulting concert film, U2 announced at a concert on December 30, 1989 that they needed to go away for a while to "dream it all up again".¹ The following year saw the band nearly split as bassist Adam Clayton and drummer Larry Mullen Jr. favoured keeping the sound which had brought them success, Bono and The Edge wished to go into more experimental, electronic areas. A compromise was reached in the hands of producers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois, who helped to synthesise the two interests into a series of demoes which became 'One' and which led on to the band's comeback, Achtung Baby.

And it's at Achtung Baby that we start, appropriately. 'Even Better Than The Real Thing' has an ironic title, considering what has been said before, and it does carry the self-affacing swagger that the 1990s U2 represented. But, when you finally settle down from the changes and begin to dissect the sound, it's not that pleasant a place to be. The intro is a garbled mush of distorted guitars and synthesisers, the former of which feels weak throughout the track. And the lyrics may hint at ambiguity - is it about a woman? It is about the band? - but there's nothing for you to grab onto so as to find out.

'Mysterious Ways' is a damn sight better. Indeed, this would be a brilliant track but for one thing. If there's one thing that's wrong with compilations, it's where they go back and tinker with old lyrics. And really good lyrics at that. Just like 'Games Without Frontiers' was altered on Hit (2003, #72), here the second bridge to the chorus has been changed from She's the way, she turned the tide/ She sees the man inside the child to She's the way, she turned the tide/And amongst you she goes wild. It's always been quite an untelligentible passage, but you can't help feeling cheated if you spot it. Otherwise this is a much better effort. Not a brilliant one though.

Only now though can we start to get at the good stuff; the next two tracks are complete belters. 'Beautiful Day' is lifted from All That You Can't Leave Behind and it remains fresh every time you listen to it, even if you did have to put up with ITV using it as a footy theme (philistines). Bono's voice is more gravelly than on the previous tracks but that makes him easier to love and appreciate. This kicks off the third phase U2 by bringing back together all the right ingredients - brilliant lyrics; uplifting guitars; simple, powerful drums; and an uncomplicated bass line which chisels deep into your spine. It's an amazing song, even if it has been overplayed.

The other corker is something different. Very different. Because 'Electrical Storm' is a new song. Yes, it is a love song, and yes, when you first hear the pulsating keyboards and echoey vocals, you get images of middle age pop stars losing their minds. But if you have the faculties to perservere to the soft, heartfelt acoustic, then you are transported somewhere quite beautiful. It's very hard to put your finger on what is so good with this song; but whatever it is you like you find yourself drawn to it. Even the ending, which is edgier and darkier, works because the whole product is light enough for there to be something here from all concerned.

Now we come to the famous 'One', the song voted the best recorded of all time by Q Magazine² and the song with the greatest lyrics of all time by the British public.³ With a reputation, one would expect a music maverick to trash it, write it off as tosh. But actually no - it's not too bad. Sure, it's not the greatest song ever written, but the band play tightly, it builds nicely and the lyrics are notable - not least for their ambiguity. Unfortunately, the next song has one of its qualities. 'Miss Sarajevo' features both a wasted Pavarotti (perhaps in more ways than one) and Bono in 'save-the-world-in-what-I-say' mode. The music drawls along like a crippled snail on a harp while the inane lyrics tumble out, and when the opera section comes you just want to break the tenor's neck. It's off the forgotten album Original Soundtracks 1 (1995) - recorded under the pseudonym Passengers - and should definitely be avoided.

Sticking with the 1990s, we jump back a couple of years to 'Stay (Faraway! So Close!)'. Lifted from Zooropa, this is much more like it. The riff is pure pristine Edge, jangly, jaunty and high-pitched, set against Mullen's ominously simple drums. Bono half-snarls, half-sighs the lyrics, displaying despair and disgust in equal measures. The lyrics are more attractive because they are refreshing cryptic and indirect; it takes several listens for it all to make sense. But even before it all hits you and you stop dead like the ending, there are delightful segments to tease you; for instance, You're dressed up like a car crash/ The wheels are turning but you're upside down.

Back to tedium, sadly, and it's 21st century tedium. 'Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of' is the second single off ATYCLB and it's a big let-down, as second singles usually are. In the first place, the opening is very flat for a U2 song; with its metallic drumming, trapped hi-hat and very 80s piano dabs, it comes across as a bizarre cross between pop rock and lounge music. But even after you've overlooked that, Bono's lyrics are too weak to offer you anything to cling onto and eventually you lose interest completely.

The next two tracks are heaps better though. 'Gone' begins with an ominous strum or two before launching into the jagged whine of The Edge's guitar. This is actually closer to the sound of How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb (2004) in Clayton's pounding bass lines which throb beneath Bono's workout. The lyrics are amazing - look at the second verse:

You wanted to get somewhere so badly
You kind of lose yourself along the way
You change your name, but that's okay, it's necessary
And what you leave behind you don't miss anyway

This is precisely what U2 should be giving us at this point in their career - we know what they sound like, but they are refining the content of that song. 'Until The End Of The World' is just as good, with its astonishing repeating riff. The opening might be offputting, but from thereon in it's a complete riot. It's one of the best songs off Achtung Baby, describing the relationship between Judas and Jesus in a way which manages to be both subtle and obvious in its message. U2 have always been trailblazers in the non-oblique, non-cheesy end of Christian rock, and this is a perfect showcase as to why.

As good as these two tracks are, and they are very, very good, they are no match for 'The Hands That Built America'. Recorded for the soundtrack of Martin Scorsese's Gangs Of New York (2002), it begins with some simple tender piano, the bedrock of all the greatest U2 songs since October (1981 - see my review, #87). Bono may have lots of echo to play with her, but by keeping the instrumentation simple (guitar, piano/keyboard and what sounds like a oyloxophone, all at isolated intervals) The Edge managed to reign him in, to stop him getting lost in the atmosphere. It's a hard task, considering the mood and depth of the song, so it's to his eternal credit, for all our sakes, that he does it. This may not feel like a typical U2 song, but it's a more than worthy candidate for inclusion here.

After all this Pavarotti-related glory, 'Discothèque' brings us back to the world of Pop and the dodgy side of U2. With its synth-heavy opening, this rapidly dovetails into U2-lite, a quirky combination of Eno's meddling and self-parody. Much like the Passengers album, this has a lot less substance; and the production cannot make up for this dearth because there is nothing genuine to grab hold of. No matter though, because 'Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me' is there purely to grab you by the scruff of the neck. Once again, there are brilliant lyrics - Dressing like your sister/ Living like a tart/ They don't know what you're doing/ Babe, it must be art - but here U2 succeed where before they failed in combining this with a more electronic feel. The result is a relentless masterpiece, a perfect film score piece which sounds like something off Zooropa.

Sadly, as it often the case with U2, no sooner have they produced something brilliant that they ruin it with something inane. 'Staring At The Sun' is from Pop and often nothing compelling whatsoever. The guitar sounds garbled, Bono's delivery is lazy, Clayton is unintelligible and where Mullen can be heard, he's boring. 'Numb', from Zooropa, suffers from a different problem. This was never the best track off the album, but this remixed version features both Bono's original, annoying falsetto and Clayton's stupid I feel numb, which clunks across the soundscape like a football fan trying to speak French.

'The First Time' is amazing. No more needs to be said. This was the best track on Zooropa when it came it and it's the best track here. The emotion which Bono pours in is incredible considering that most of the song is spoken. The beauty of this track is its simplicity, both of its message - the relationship between a lost son and his father, i.e. God - and it's execution. The Edge is on superb form with his downbeat licks, and the piano in the final third is absolutely ethereal. This is a sublime song, full stop.

It's a real shame, then, that we are forced to finish with something as inextricably awful as 'The Fly'. As shown from the new film U2-3D, this track really comes into its own live, but on record it's always been a massive disappointment. Bono can't make up his mind, oscillating widely from whisper to early-1990s falsetto, and the band seems completely lost. What a shame indeed.

U2 are like The Smiths in that their work seems to translate well onto compilations as well on the albums themselves. This is not so much because of the quality of the material so much as you are able to see the spread of both the good and bad in one place. And we get plenty of both here. There are plenty of gems, largely from Zooropa, and the compilers have generally chosen well; even if you have to put up with stuff from Pop, it doesn't take too long to get back on the good stuff. The Best of 1990-2000 is both a good record to dip into for the rarer stuff (like the soundtrack work) and a decent way to look back at the band in its most transitional period.

3.88 out of 5

References
¹ 'Rattle And Hum', http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rattle_And_Hum. Accessed on March 7 2008.
² 'Achtung Baby', http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Achtung_Baby. Accessed on March 7 2008.
³ Paul Lewis, 'Britain's best-loved lyricist? Bono's the One', The Guardian, 18 April 2006 - available at http://arts.guardian.co.uk/news/story/0,,1755768,00.html. Accessed on July 11 2007.

Top 100 Albums - #64: Strange Beautiful Music (2002)

'Satch''s second and last appearance on the chart is Strange Beautiful Music, the follow-up to the experimental effort Engines Of Creation (2000). Satriani came to record Strange Beautiful Music after a very busy 1990s. After the release of The Extremist (1992) - his most critically acclaimed work - in 1993 he joined Deep Purple on their tour of Japan; he was asked to join the band permanently but declined. In 1996 he formed the 'shredding supergroup' G3, comprised of himself, Steve Vai and Eric Johnson, who toured widely and continue to do so sporadically. After the release of the neo-classical Crystal Planet (1998) and the experimental Engines Of Creation (2000), 'Satch' went on tour and released a live album of his dates in San Francisco in 2001.

Strange Beautiful Music opens with 'Oriental Melody', and it's not the best of starts. Satriani's guitar is scratchy and sounds convoluted. The piece relies way too much on the thundering bass (played by Matt Bissonette) and the drums (Jeff Campitelli) to create what is essentially an attempted fusion of art rock with a heavy metal rhythm section and oh-so fake violins. It's a bright piece, but the experimentation doesn't really work, in the same way that most of so-called 'progressive metal' is trash.

As a whole, 'Belly Dancer' is a great deal more focussed. The rhythm section give Satch the room he needs for some lovely bubbling guitar, even if the song is a little too long. For shred-heads there is a great deal of shredding in the middle section, and for those who have an ear for rhythm there is a nice rhythm guitar part which occassionally creeps up behind Satriani's swirling lead. 'Starry Night' is another step in the right direction, taking the tempo and the effects down just a notch to create a more all-rounded, distinctive sound. It's certainly a sign of focus on an album which was slated as being inconsistent and bland.¹

'Chords Of Life' was one of the big sitting ducks for the album as far as critics were concerned. Michael Gowan from AllMusicGuide.com wrote it off as "[a song] which at times sounds like "All Along the Watchtower" and at others resembles scale and chord exercises from [Swedish hard rock instrumentalist] Yngwie Malmsteen — not an enticing combo."² But he was sadly mistaken. This is a stupendous composition, not least because it is a a rare showcase of acoustic guitar, almost anathema on a Satriani record. Eric Caudieux's keyboards are simple but have a metallic beauty to them, and the whole piece is both memorable and beautiful, not because of pop hooks, but because of the emotion which Satriani has poured into this.

'Mind Storm' is a return to metal. This doesn't make it humdrum because Satriani resists relying on the typical deep and thundery chords which pollute the video airwaves all too often. Instead, he swings the bright, melodious chords around the loud drums and produces a big-belted rocker in the process. With 'Sleep Walk', however, the tempo is taken right down. This is the kind of song that would only play in two places: on a beach in Hawaii or driving home in an estate car at night. It's very formulaic and overdone, not to mention a waste of Robert Fripp's classic frippertronic guitars (see my review of Peter Gabriel 2, #85).

'New Last Jam' is a hook-driven rock song which oscillates between blues rock, hard rock and pop-rock. Although it can't quite decide what it is or where it's going, this doesn't really matter. It's so rhythmic and earworming that before you know it you're letting the notes flow through you without much care. 'Mountain Song' is much the same, insofar as it is based on a hooking rhythm part over which Satriani can basically go mad. There is sufficient which is different about this song to make it distinctive, but this approach shows the beginning of a pattern that was not present in the first half of the album.

'What Breaks A Heart' is again a slower number, this time rich in a bluesy rhythm guitar. This time the drums return to a greater sense of prominence, almost to compensate for the wierd theremin noises coming from Satriani's fretboard. There's some very decent shredding on this and the bass is also quite reasonable. This is also the case on the headbanger that is 'Seven String'. This is against a venture into the depths of metal and techno, and again it relies on the hooks of the rhythm to justify itself, rather then allowing itself to be reduced to 'just another song by an 80s shredder'.

'Hill Groove' is probably the strangest track, considering all thast has gone before. With the bright guitar, it has the feeling of a rocked-up single by The Beatles or The Monkees. For this reason, this is relatively banal and formulaic. Above everything else, it's incredibly repetitive, and like all 60s pop songs it's designed to drill into your head and stay there until you are driven mad enough to buy the damn single. The other major let-down, 'The Journey', is just plain directionless, a rubbish chord jam on which the drums rely too much on the symbols and the guitar is too synthy to be taken seriously.

'The Traveller' is a lot better than its predecessor, not least because Satriani has calmed down. His guitars on this piece are complimentary to the drums and bass, instead of wrestling against them. The chorus, if it is such a thing, is quite majestic, but the best part is the gentile level of restraint which Satraini applies, slamming on the brakes where anyone else would attempt to fling in another half-dozen notes.

The album closes with 'You Saved My Life', a fairly predictable but enjoyable ballad. It's hardly his most compelling piece, but it's a fitting ending to what has been an up-and-down record. This is the kind of song to play at the end of a day, just as the sun is going down. It's not that it will send you into a deep sleep, but it will calm you down sufficiently for drowsiness to take hold.

Strange Beautiful Music is a better record than Super Colossal (2006, #96) because most of the experiment pay off and come across. There are some similarities, for instance the second half is a lot more consistent - although in this case, this means that it gets very repetitive after a while. The first half is more interesting if uneven, but the main problem with the record is that it is far too long. Just as so often he tried to cram so much into less tracks, here the experiments and riffs are strung out too much. Like all Satriani records, this is not one to listen to from start to finish, certainly not in one go. But there is much to delight metal fans and shredding enthusiasts alike, and that is enough to justify its inclusion in the chart.

References

¹ Michael Gowan, 'Strange Beautiful Music', http://wc05.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&token=&sql=10:kjfixqq0ldhe. Accessed on October 9 2007.

² Ibid.

3.79 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #74: Heathen (2002)

David Bowie's third chart entry is Heathen, the second record of his 'neo-classical' period and the darker follow-up to the comeback effort 'hours...' (1999). It became Bowie's biggest chart success of recent years and was nominated for the Mercury Prize.Despite the departure of his guitarist Reeve Gabrels - who described the music on 'hours...' as "too soft"¹ - Bowie was on a bounce after abandoning the electronica and drum and bass he had dabbled with in the mid-1990s. His next project, entitled Toy, was scheduled as an album containing new editions of old classics plus three new songs - perhaps like a self-referencing version of his cover album Pin-Ups (1973), or a studio album with a live setlist. Recording began in 2000 but was quickly abandoned. In 2001 Bowie appeared in the Concert for New York City following the 9/11 attacks, before returning to the studio once again under the successful eye of producer Tony Visconti.

The album begins with 'Sunday'. The choral harmonies and eerie guitar create the atmosphere before Bowie's ageing voice counterpoints it perfectly. The lyrics are not as distinct as you might expect, but their delivery is thankfully absence of the sentimentality that plagued 'hours...'. Lines like Nothing has changed/ Everything has changed manage to sum up his predicament: he is still producing what the fans want, but the rest of the world has moved on, leaving him in what could be called the musical graveyard. Bowie sounds depressed, almost despondant, and it works very well, even with the odd-fitting drums at the end.

'Cactus', a cover of the song by The Pixies, begins with some irritating cymbals and continues with Bowie being even more so. Being a cover, it doesn't fit well, and being a alt-rock/ pre-grunge song, it is of a style that Bowie has so far been unable to master. The lyrics are almost unlistenable, especially with Bowie's tinny drawing out of the refrain. Before long, we return to sanity in the form of 'Slip Away'. Also called 'Uncle Floyd', this is more minimalist and again features some eerie guitar. With piano reminiscent of Hunky Dory (1971), the production at the start has a vinyl-ish feel to it - much like Kanute (#77) - and features some nice, if underused, strings in the background. Bowie delivers the cloudy lyrics in a cross between despair and desperation, until he has you by the scruff of the ears.

'Slow Burn' brings both bass and guitar to the forefront while maintaining the brooding atmosphere. Pete Townshend (The Who) and Tony Levin (King Crimson) add an aggressive edge to Bowie's vocals, which as before betray despondency and uncertainty about the future. It's a fine vocal performance which serves, if nothing else, to silence critics claiming that Bowie's voice had deteriorated. The prominent guitar continues on 'Afraid', another ornate string piece made complete with some strong drums. There is a mild sense of paranoia apparent in this song, although the lyric I'm still so afraid/ On my own may be a hint at his marriage to Somali model Imam.

'I've Been Waiting For You' is another cover, this time of Neil Young. It's one of the shortest tracks on the albun, and also the slightest. There are some interesting rhythms, for sure, but it sounds like Bowie is fumbling around for an alternative to Young's Canadian brogue. Generally it's a less impressive effort, which tries to be atmospheric and yet tries so hard that it is destined to fall short.

'I Will Be Your Slave' is a return to the standard we have come to expect. It's a song of submission and acceptance of one's fate, which may sound a little hollow to the untrained ear. On closer inspection however, there are some decent strings and synthesised effects. For the really careful listener, one can detect some deeply pitched pedal steel guitar murmuring in the background.

'I Took A Trip On A Gemini Spaceship' is the third and final cover on the album. Considering the insipidness of the other two attempts, it doesn't have much going for it - especially when we discover that it was originally done by the a-melodious drawling that is The Legendary Stardust Cowboy, an American one-'hit' wonder who lent his name (more than anything else) to Bowie's most famous incarnation. The song opens like a standardised dance song, the kind of rubbish that graces inner city clubs. We are then forced to listen to Bowie mumble along while the background noise dominates. This song is awful because it doesn't do justice on two counts. One, it doesn't sound remotely like the original (though, one could hazard a guess, that would be worse). And two, it is not of the kind of quality Bowie should be giving his fans.

Rant over. Bowie's favourite song on the album, '5:15 The Angels Have Gone', is a thousand times better. It's focussed, comprehensive and has a clear sense of emotion. Where the previous track adopted the dance philosophy (deafen people so much that they don't care and become irrationally happy), this doesn't force you to feel anything; it merely sets the appropriate atmosphere to hint at how you should feel. There is some wonderful drumming on this, not because it is especially impressive on a technical level, but because it's inobtrusive, unlike a lot of modern rock.

'Everyone Says 'Hi'' is the last real slip-up on the album. It's begins like a cheapened version of one of the instrumentals of "Heroes" (1977). But then it transforms into a tinny outtake from Hunky Dory or The Man Who Sold The World (1970). No, wait, it's a Berlin era piece with the background synthesisers. Or is it a middle-of-the-road pop-rock song? It just can't make up its mind, and as a result this is a piece of aimless cacophony.

'A Better Future' sets out to be a new piece in the style of the Berlin era, only with lighter touches, and of course modern production. Lyrically speaking, this is a repetitive effort from Bowie, and his delivery is relatively timid. Nonetheless, this is a very good song depending on how you read it. Lines like I demand a better future/ Or I might just stop needing you good be about his family or, more likely, his career. Maybe this is a statement to his new label to get things right from the start.

After all this tossing and turning, we come to 'Heathen (The Rays)'. This is a superlative composition. This has a funereal feel to it, not in the sense that it is dirgeful, but in that it is steeped in melancholy (not unlike Wish You Were Here (1975)). Bowie is at his most exposed for a long time, delivering lines like Waiting for something/ Looking for someone/ Is there no reason?/ Have I stayed too long? with an almost galling amount of deadpan. It's a brilliant song, no question.

Heathen is a good effort from Bowie. 'Good' is the word, because neither is this magnificent on the scale of his work in the 1970s, nor is it an insipid shot at commercial success like in the mid-1980s. It's a two-faced album in many ways: it's a document both of Bowie's sentimental, at-ease feelings at this stage of his career, and his feelings of despair at the modern world and towards himself. At ease with the past, uncertain of the present. That is not to say that this is a desperate album; unlike Low (1977) this is not forceful and brooding, and where there are Berlin-era influences that are counterbalanced with washes of electronica. If nothing else, Heathen is testament to Bowie's lasting talent as a songwriter - proved, ironically, by the direness of the covers. Let's just hope that he gets the message for his next comeback, which is, incidentally, long overdue.

References
¹ 'David Bowie', http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Bowie. Accessed on August 10 2007.

3.75 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #99: The Rising (2002)

Best known for albums like Born To Run (1975) and Born In The USA (1984), the rocker known as 'The Boss' staged a comeback-of-sorts with this, his twelfth offering.

The Rising was Springsteen's first new album in three years. His previous offering, 18 Tracks (1999), had received mixed reviews, being as it was a single-oriented album designed for the more casual listener. In all the 1990s had been a quiet time for Springsteen, who had struggled to replicate the success, both critical and commercial, achieved by Born In The USA, which sold 15 million copies in the US alone and was used in the '84 election campaign of Ronald Reagan (the Republican Party neglected that the song is deeply ironic and is actually about Vietnam and ill-treatment of veterans).

The album opens with the light yet breathtaking 'Lonesome Day'. This is an ideal showcase for Springsteen's unique voice, which seems to not have aged in twenty years. Most of the album was composed after the 9/11 attacks, and the themes of beginning again, isolation and uncertainty which run through the whole album are encapsulated very well on this opener. And like openers, it draws you in, gets you hooked and won't let go.

The second of fifteen tracks, 'Into The Fire', is, like a lot of the tracks, more subdued, reminsicent of gospel in its lyrics, which make references to faith, hope and love in the rhythmic style endemic in gospel music. But before you can switch off - the song is a trifle long - 'Waiting On A Sunny Day' comes on with its solid drums and the world seems a brighter place. This is Springsteen at his rocking best, it's the kind of song you strut to, head held high and a smile on your face. 'Nothing Man' takes things right down, finding The Boss in heartfelt introspection. It's a little depressing in a kooky way, but perfectly executed on acoustic guitar and simple snare and refrain.

It's about this point that what started out as a great album transforms into a better-than-average one. On both 'Counting On A Miracle' and 'Empty Sky', the bottom falls out a little. Springsteen is clearly trying to continue the post-9/11 themes here - with anthemic rock on the former and explicit lyrics in the latter - but they never quite come off, and certainly the latter would have been better scaled down to an acoustic guitar, à la Nebraska (1982).

'Worlds Apart' is an interesting, and better, piece, not least because Springsteen and world music on the surface don't go together - but on the start of this they clearly do. But the rockier drums and guitar kicks in, along with a harmonica part which proves once and for all that only Bob Dylan can get away with harmonicas. The African influences is compromised for the rest of the song, but you come away without feeling irked by it.

'Let's Be Friends (Skin To Skin)' is a cheesy little number. There are three things wrong with this song. One, the introduction and break into the lyrics is almost a carbon copy of 'Lonesome Day', so no points for originality. Two, Springsteen's vocals are tired and he drawls through them like an ageing country singer. And three, the song sounds like it has been written by Mariah Carey - there are (apparently) reference to her hit 'Dreamlover' - and it sounds like it desperately wants to be a pop hit, never a good thing on a rock album or indeed any album. For someone who resents the fact that Ms. Carey even exists, this is enough to tempt me to stop.

Thankfully I stick with it, and the next track, 'Further On (Up The Road)', justifies my choice. Bearing no resemblance to the hit by Jeff Beck and Eric Clapton of the same name, it's a traditional hard rocker and no mistake. 'The Fuse' is a strange one - the opening with quick bass drum work sounds like the start of a nu-metal song, only for it to mutate into slow-strum ballad rock with unnecessary and irritating echo which does Springsteen's voice a great disservice. The Sam Cooke-inspired 'Mary's Place' features that most Zeppelin-esque of instruments, a mandolin, in a distinctly un-Zeppelin-eque song. It has a blues edge and is quite attractive at the outset, but it soon gets to repetitive to put down to jamming.

'You're Missing' turns on the sombre side again with piano and violin very prominent here. This time, as on 'Nothing Man' he pulls it off, but the difference is that 'Nothing Man' has something - je ne sais quoi - to hook you, while this sounds vaguely rambling. Thankfully, before you get sufficiently bored or irritated, a decent rocker comes along, in the form of the title track. It seems to be a feature of this uneven album that just when Springsteen gets so introspective and distant that you consider leaving it, the next track grabs your attention and you keep listening.

The final tracks, 'Paradise' and 'My City Of Ruins' are interesting as closer. 'Paradise' features synthesisers on a violin setting and has great vocals which seem near the bone and close to heart, with the rhymes reminiscent of blues with tinges of country and even subdued soul influences. 'My City Of Ruins' was recorded before 9/11 and listening to it, it is mildly prophetic but perhaps Springsteen's decision to include on the album is a sign that actual disaster was not all that the song is about.

The Rising is a good album for dipping into, with plenty of rockers that would have made successful singles and have proved popular when performed live. But while there are overarching themes, as discussed before, they are not always evident enough in the individual tracks and as such it is maybe not the kind of album one would listen to from beginning to end in one sitting. That is not to say that, had Springsteen done a 9/11 concept album, it would have been better or more compelling. It means only that he has reached a point at which his ability to churn out anthems and aggrandise the simplicities of real life may be escaping him, in the form of the introspection and self-reverence which comes to all rockers in old age.

3.67 out of 5