Yes yes! I remember your review! These reviews just an attempt to break monotony of describing music. To invest a little personal history and creativity into them does no harm, does it? I think if people know the music they more likely to understand as well. Who are you reviewing? I might know them! If you post it on Urbis I love to review it! Best of luck evoking the sounds that mean the most to you. I recommend listening to album while reviewing. This helps images form in head!
Criticism / Album Review #2: "The Music of The Bushes"
There is a place here in Omsk known only as The Bushes.
From behind cancerous green trees, festooned with rotten apples and diseased pinecones, snaggletoothed nymphs emerge from soot-black branches with withered dahlias in their hair. “We see thee, alive and untamed amid the beasts of Cerberus!” they cackle, having sucked the ephemeral juices from the up-turned bottoms of ravaged, wingless crows; often named in spite by their dead-shod daddies. Deep within this seething forest, a hinterland where the nexus of civilisation meets Dante’s Inferno, there are a sub-species of sub-human jobbernowls, rabid in their blindness and resolute in their desire to remain faithful forevermore to the primitive methods sent from below. These people shall all die unrepented. They are a gaggle of spineless fools, mutating from human beings into obstreperous bird-like creatures that squawk so loudly, they wake the whole neighbourhood up and pile-drive emotion-volts through the heart of any mortal man or woman. We leave them alone.
From within these dusk caves, however, a sound can be heard that is so beautiful, yet so bleak, it renders this whole wretched civilisation silent. It is the sound of the trapped, yearning to be free. The damned. The man who knows his fate in the nevermore is supper with Satan, and who sits silently, waiting for the hours to pass and watching the sunlight trickle into moonlight again and again. There is no God, here, no hope, no light and little mirth except that which falls from the lips of his companions. He is bound by the delight of others amid a desolate existence.
This is what I think of whenever I hear the music of Chan Marshall. All of the sounds made from these doomed natives, these snatches of painful conversation are here on her 1998 LP Moon Pix. And what an LP indeed.
What are we to decipher from this cryptic title? Do we need to understand? Marshall is a creature of waif-like delicacy whose intimate music offers stark, unflinching portals into her troubled psyche, and as such she is an artist of such magnitude whom one is rendered speechless by. Her music is sparse. Just guitar, vocals with the occasional flute and drum. Her voice is a thing of angelic beauty and her lyrics little more that snapshots from her mind; dark confessions from the vault of her subconscious so precious they may even be impenetrable to her. It is this journey see takes the listener on which makes this album such a wistful pleasure.
American Flag (3:30)
With a drum loop purloined from the Beastie Boys, one thing is clear from the off, Marshall has situated her heart in the cosy enclaves of nineties indie-rock. It shelters. It is familiar to her. It replenishes her youth with such a spirit of such artistic fertility that it is worthwhile to remember she was 29 when she recorded this. Self-consciousness pervades her lyrics from the get-go as she sings: “My friend sits at the drums… he plays the difficult parts and I play difficult.” The sublime Dirty Three accompany sweet Marshall here for this folky trip-hop opener which pulses on the brink of a panic attack. It reminds me so much of Russell, the grunter from St. Petersburg who now ekes out a living in the caves polishing boulders until his death. Such a pretty start to this treacherous voyage.
He Turns Down (5:39)
“Have you ever been to a place? You know the one I’m talking about…”
It is almost possible to drown inside this one. It is like swimming through the pitch-dark receptors of her mind, or taking some sightless trip through a dark, unlit woodland waiting to be seized upon by some inhuman presence. The flutes here provide the fog. The guitars provide the dim flickers of light. Marshall provides the fear, the loss of hope and the inevitable disappointment. It almost tears me apart when she sings: “Holding on for something… have you ever held on for too long?” A gentle, calmly heart-breaking piece of music which gets lost in the woods and takes the listener with it.
No Sense (4:50)
Here, the guitar seems almost reticent to stumble from the darkness for fear of the encroaching menace. This is a stream-of-consciousness piece which, at face value, makes ‘no sense’ but reveals itself over repeated listens to be an aching tune about loss, the passing of time and commonplace betrayal. “Do you remember that night out of context? Making up sh*t, like we were animals,” she croons after fifty tremulous seconds, the yearning evident in her voice. This time she had, this fun she had… it has been and now it has gone. The eerie, random guitar sqiudges through a series of hazy memories into a second verse where she releases her anger and pain through one devastating lyric: “What’s the use when I can see right through you?” One of the most beautiful pieces on the record.
Back of Your Head (3:43)
A soft, almost mildly joyous piece about a wanderer, a character who Marshall evokes with such power here it can be difficult not to make the literal comparison with herself and this figure. “Walks alone through most walks of life, stands alone through most parts of life,” she drawls, almost trembling at the end of each chorus. The tune makes use of a tiny guitar phrase to imbue it with a child-like feel, despite the cuss word she drops into the lyrics. It reminds me of those hunchbacked few who rarely venture out from the caves, or the infancy of Titus Groan before he made it into his adulthood.
Moonshiner (4:50)
There is no song great enough Marshall cannot tackle. Her version of this traditional took its inspiration from Bob Dylan’s own interpretation, a fact she acknowledges in the liner notes and both are outstanding versions in their own right. The whorls of bitter smoke puff of her gin-soaked guitar from the off here, and her voice pokes out of the slow-crawling music, her husky tones coming from the same place as the old blues men who sang it way back when life really was as hollow as this. It details a life about to end. The imminent appointment with eternity from a character perched on the grave. Marshall practices restraint throughout, but ascends her tune to phenomenal highs when she cries:
“You’re already in hell, I wish we could go to hell! When the bottle gets into you, and life ain’t worth a damn.” Utterly breathtaking.
You May Know Him (2:46)
A softer piece, strummed solely on her guitar, this possesses the same mystery as the previous material, although she seems more comfortable that the people in this tune are heading to a much more positive place than Hell. “Heaven is the place that you sent him,” she sings, her voice just fading below the guitar at times but the tune running on a sweet and gentle tremor. Rather like the song of the gold-winged eagles, before they had their wings snipped by mad bank managers.
The Rest
Moon Pix cannot be described as a varied album, since it isn’t, and I would wish no such lies upon my four readers. Cross Bones Style has a looser groove to it which makes finds Marshall perched in a less stern and morbid mode but retains the dark mystery of the album nonetheless. Say is a very bleak track indeed, incorporating the sound of rainfall into the mix to such a powerful effect that all Mancunian miserabilists are off somewhere in their bedsits shaking their fists. Colors & The Kids is an indulgent and overlong piano dirge which is beautiful in its first three minutes but plodding in its remaining three and a half. The remaining two pieces here, Peking Saint and Metal Heart, are the most low-key tunes in an album brimming with them and are slow-burners if you let them work their charms upon your ears.
What more is there to say? Chan Marshall has made better material, but she never recorded an album as stark, haunting and allegorically thriving as this frankly terrified concept album. For those of you unfamiliar with my charming homeland of Omsk and its hinterlands, please purchase this little gem of experimental alt-rock, and for everyone else, try 2003’s You Are Free.
Mikhail says goodbye.
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damian71 reviewed Version 1 -
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strong review, emotive heart felt
liked
There is no God, here, no hope, no light and little mirth except that which falls from the lips of his companions. He is bound by the delight of others amid a desolate existence
touches on the freud also
slightly repetitive also too long a condensed version would be better
nice try
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tarleisio reviewed Version 1 -
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At the risk of repeating myself and overstating the obvious, you are a critic unlike any other. Where most critics content themselves with variations along the”it sucks or it doesn’t” line, you take your reader on a very personal and highly evocative journey, through the music and beyond it into not just your “personal” or persona’s space, but through and beyond the space and storyline the music invokes.
In itself, that’s no mean feat. You are doing in words alone what the artist needs two mediums – word and music – to create. I’m assuming that you review what you like, which always helps, but on the other hand, that kind of selection process can make reviewing infinitely harder to write and if done badly, much less interesting to read. This is…most emphatically NOT done badly, this is flawless. Linguistically creative, fluid and atmospheric. I could go on, but I’m guessing you want this reviewed, as opposed to having one awed reader genuflecting in the dust before your feet…;-)
I’ve reviewed you before, in the stylistically very different “Ideal for Oestrus in Omsk”, and while this is a different review, of a different artist, it is no less an accomplishment, even as it reads much more linear as its predecessor.
As a personal note, that first “Ideal for…etc.” inspired me to try my own hand at “alternative” reviewing. It’s underway, and causing a great deal of morning sickness. It will very likely be nowhere near as good as yours.
Autie reviewed Version 1 -
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Ghastly imagery. after reading page one I am unsure whether I want to try and hear this collection of music (if by this description I can deem it really music… lol). But as I continue things clear up a bit more.
I think this is an amazingly creative way to express thoughts and opinions about things, a review that goes beyond the normal everyday text.
I am inspired to dabble and try the cd to please my own curiosity!
Great write, it was fun to imagine under-worldly creatures while reading about a cd.
Catastrophe reviewed Version 1 -
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Great review! The opening paragraphs reminded me of the mythology behind GWAR. I appreciated the song-by-song breakdown, too.
“they had their wings snipped by mad bank managers” – very Floyd.
Good job.
avedis reviewed Version 1 -
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Reading this review is like listening to a moon struck lover. Get a grip!
Loving someone’s work, showing that love is fine. But a review also needs a degree of objectivity. This album may be perfect to you, but your job is to point out if it might not be for others – and why. Give what others may see as negatives.
I am being hyper critical here, but if you offer up a review, it needs to be GREAT!
This could be but isn’t.
1. Starting with your own little story is OK, but let us know that is what you are doing. For all I knew, you may have been quoting either lyrics or album notes to me. Lead me into this intro.
2. It may be C&P to Urbis, but you have a lot of sentences with missing words – ”
e.g. “It is this journey see takes the listener on which makes…”
3. As a reviewer, you have to master writing to the state of being an expert.
“and as such she is an artist of such magnitude whom one is rendered speechless by” fails in that way completely. Not least from having a hanging preposition!
or
“as this frankly terrified concept album”. The album is terrified?
4. You concentrate on her lyrics, with a few brief glimpses of her voice. You give hints at the instruments, but we need to know how good/bad the playing is,
how suited, what style.
For each track, is it Jazz influenced, Blues, folk rock, defying categorization? You are supposed to be our ears here, not doing her courting for her to win our love.
As an expression of a fan this is great, but as a review it leaves a lot to be desired at the moment.
DCAllen reviewed Version 1 -
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Your opening two paragraphs strike me as way too long for a review of a CD. The images/concept are excellent, but will a reader want to go there with you. He’s expecting an album review, not a short story. Do it, but get to your review faster (my opinion). Overall, your use of language is brilliant. That said, I think this review could be shorter, more compact, less floral in style.
Proofreading notes:
whom one is rendered speechless by. (awkward use of passive. Why not simplify this by saying “an artist whose magnitude renders me speechless”, or similar)
little more that snapshots (typo: than) Also, why “little more”? This sounds negative. Why not something more descriptive here?
her mind; dark (should be a colon)
the off, Marshall has situated (should be a colon)
folky = folksy
reticent to stumble (wrong word?)
sqiudges (typo)
child-like = childlike
clele75 reviewed Version 1 -
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I like the first sentence until it starts to run on in such a way
that you feel like you have to add a hyphenated adjective
to every noun.
Cutting “soot-black branches” will really help. Part of the reason
is you already start the sentence with a “from” that is telling
us where the nymphs emerge from. Throwing another “from”
in their just tangles up the writing and hurts the flow of your
prose. I’m not saying become a minimalist, but often less is more.
Another redundancy is “obstreperous bird-like creatures that
squawk so loudly.” They squawk loudly so clearly they are
obstreperous. Kill the adjective. Also bird-like. Though I find
myself doing it a lot, avoid using “-like, -type.” Consult
Strunk and White, Elements of style and Zissner’s On Writing
Well. These book will help your prose style significantly (I
think you have a strong sense of imagery that could be helped
by pruning down your sentences and hyphenated adjectives.)
Now for the actual piece itself: Your mythical world of snaggletoothed
nymphs is supposed to be a clever hook to pull the reader
into the more prosaic reviewing of an album. I like the idea, but the
hook goes on too long. Part of that is (as mentioned above) the
excess of unneccessary words. Trying giving yourself half the word
limit and try saying the exact thing. Start on a blank page if you
have to. But I’m hoping you’ll notice the difference in the way it flows
into your actual review.
Once your review gets going, I notice you are less verbose and
your prose more engaging. By the end, for the most part, I’m
reading freely without getting snagged by excess words.
Again, I don’t mean this to be an aggressive review. I think your
review is interesting but could be even more compelling if you
cut your word count down by about 40-50%.
Pogopaws reviewed Version 1 -
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If the measure of a positive review is that you make someone totally unfamiliar with the artist want to run out an get their album, then, with this reader at least, you have succeeded. Your prose is evocative and, in itself, musical. The opening paragraphs are magic. A couple of typos but they are just that, no more. Beautifully done.
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