Holiday Music Gift Guide: Same Old Song (12/8/09, Boston Phoenix)

Most music fans can probably be forgiven, at this point, for being doubting Thomases at the alleged demise of the major-label music industry. After all, wasn’t last year supposed to be the final hurrah for any kind of box-set bonanza? Wasn’t the death knell for the super-album event already rung last year, and the year before, and the year before that?

The truth of the matter is far less dramatic: as every year piles up, there is just more and more product for the music biz to package up in heat-shrinked plastic wrap for us, the music consumer. And don’t let those dire sales figures mislead you — music has become a 24-hour soundtrack to our civilized existence. Smart phones, iPods, what-have-you: they are just more ways for us to be listening to music in more places at more times than ever before. If that means that there are no multi-platinum guarantees anymore for mainstay artists, it also means that new artists are promoting their shiny new wares in an ever more crowded marketplace.

A good analogy for the reissue business is the end of the 1999 film Being John Malkovich, wherein an elderly group seeks out a way, every generation, to enter a younger portal, thus living forever. Substitute the group of old codgers in this analogy with, say, old codgers like the Rolling Stones and Neil Young (both of whom are midway through a multi-year CD remaster campaign of their back catalogue) — the challenge for the old guard, then, is to find access to this younger portal. Whether with Rock Band or movie soundtracks, older artists are clinging on to dear life with a tenacity not seen in previous pop-music generations. As rock and roll enters its (ulp!) seventh decade, the backlog has started to pile up. We see this not only in lavish remastered reissues of albums that have been released a million times before, but with the remastering of albums that are not that old to begin with.

In fact, the culture of remastering and reissuing has become so commonplace as part of the music-buying experience that a new CD hasn’t really succeeded until it has had an official victory lap reissue as a “deluxe edition,” replete with bonus tracks. If this seems like a desperate move on the record industry to dredge the last drop of capital out of, say, the most recent releases by acts like Bat For Lashes and Lady GaGa (both of whom have recently hit the shops with two-disc reissues of albums that are less than a year old), it can also be seen as a windfall for music fans, as we are courted by musicians with a continuous opening of the vaults, an audio fire sale with no end in sight.

Can you even remember a time when artists would release albums with no enticing trinkets attached? If you are a fan of older music, it is no longer a matter of “I wonder if they will ever remaster this classic record?” — now it’s more like, “Wow, 10 of my favorite artists are remastering their entire catalogues with bonus tracks and slamming sound — what furniture can I sell to buy them all?” If you are a dedicated music fan, start thinking about a pre-holiday yard sale. (Just remember to hang on to your CD shelves.)

Back on the Autobahn
If there is one act in recorded music history most deserving of a digital audio makeover, it would have to be German synth pioneers Kraftwerk. Behold this year’s line of factory showroom reissues: starting with their seminal 1974 ode to smooth driving and human automation, AUTOBAHN ($18.98), cruising through the is-it-irony pan-Euro optimism of 1977′s TRANS-EUROPA EXPRESS ($18.98), and eventually landing at the austerity of 2003′s TOUR DE FRANCE ($18.98), these eight remaster jobs are wunderbar ear candy. There are no bonus tracks, but there is a level of audio clarity that really does a massive service to these wide-open tracks, thanks to the remaster job done by the band itself at their own Kling Klang studio. Allow yourself to submerge into the luxuriant synthetic bath of European decadence that is Trans-Europe Express‘s “Hall Of Mirrors,” or the frictionless forward motion that is the seemingly endless title track on Autobahn, and you are listening to Exhibit A of why remasters exist in the first place.

In many cases, remasters exist because an artist wrested control of master tapes and was given permission to give fans the deluxe versions of albums that they always deserved. Robert Fripp’s mad prog creation King Crimson is finally getting the rollout it deserves, now that Fripp has shifted the KC oeuvre to his own Discipline Global Mobile, and away from the cold dead grasp of EG Records. The initial trio of releases, double-disc (or triple, if you include the DVD included in the ultra-special editions) editions of IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING ($24.98), LIZARD ($24.98), and RED ($24.98), is a phenomenal start. The Court job is itself a revelation: in addition to a competent remaster and the expected bonus tracks (BBC sessions, studio outtakes, live tracks) is a remix of the album overseen by Fripp himself that is literally jaw-dropping in its widescreen lush richness. Even the most die-hard Crimhead will be bowled over by the layers of sonic phantasmagoria brought out into the light in this new edition — the album closing title track has never sounded this mellotron-tastic and vibrant.

Odd fellows
Another mellotron-laden 1969 long-player getting the deluxe treatment this winter is David Bowie’s SPACE ODDITY ($24.98). Initially a flop of a record attached to what was seen at the time to be a novelty hit for the erstwhile David Jones, the album is one of rock’s earliest reissue successes, as it only landed on the charts when it was re-released in 1972 in the wake of Ziggy Stardust. The album proper is a schizo affair fitting of an artist who would soon be known for his multiple personalities: if the title track is prog space folk, the rest runs the gamut from string-laden balladry (“Letter to Hermione”) to epic sci-fi rock (the nearly 10-minute “Cygnet Committee”) to “Hey Jude”–esque hippie shakedowns (“Memory of a Free Festival”). The latter song was split up as A and B sides of a single with a backing band that would eventually become known as the Spiders from Mars, containing the legendary fretwork of master guitarist Mick Ronson. The bonus disc of this new reissue contains those two tracks, as well as a trove of other rarities, including enough BBC sessions that weren’t included on 2000′s Bowie at the Beeb to make you wonder just how much material Bowie is sitting on in his seemingly endless vaults. The gem of the unreleased material is the original version of the Aladdin Sane dream-popper “The Prettiest Star,” recorded years earlier with a very young Marc Bolan moonlighting from his day job in T.Rex to work with his glam-rock rival.

We’re going to guess that Vince Clarke and Andy Bell wore out many a Bowie and T.Rex album on their way to becoming synthpop superstars with Erasure. The reissue of their pinnacle LP, 1988′s THE INNOCENTS ($47.49) is one of the most extravagantly exhausting deluxe jobs ever, comprising not just the album in a pristine master (mega-smashes like “Chains of Love” and “A Little Respect” have never sounded quite this theatrically 3-D) and the expected b-sides, BBC sessions, and live tracks, but an additional DVD with an entire concert as well as a cornucopia of promotional videos andTop of the Pops appearances. A similarly exhaustive treatment is given to the first two long-players by goth warlords Bauhaus, with the release of the “Omnibus Editions” of 1980′s IN THE FLAT FIELD ($24.98) and 1981′s MASK ($29.98). For anyone convinced that the band’s sole contribution to the lexicon of rock resides in the pick-slide-with-delay Halloween-y-ness of “Bela Lugosi’s Dead,” these two weighty audio tomes stand as a correction. Tight and frenetic grooves fight with desperate, emotionally fraught vocals, colliding in track after track of explosive new wave kicks. “Into the chasm, gaping, we,” intones Peter Murphy in his superhuman bellow in Field‘s powerhouse title track, and it’s an apt if stagey metaphor for the act of digging into the dark delights of these sets, whether the early singles, here finally grouped with their respective albums, or the collection of demos and rarities. The gem here is the release (as a bonus disc with Mask) of the 1981 live set This Is for When, a blazing concert that once collected massive sums for its excruciatingly rare vinyl form, now polished up and proffered to the masses.

Remastered and revisited
In a sense, that is what remastering and reissuing is all about, right? A repurposing of a set of songs that once may have been the dominion only of an underground and rabid fan base, now made more conveniently accessible for a more general audience. Which in part is what makes the recent re-release of Jawbox’s classic 1994 album ForYOUR OWN SPECIAL SWEETHEART ($12) all the more interesting. This DC post-hardcore troop were the toast of the Dischord indie scene until they jumped ship for the big bucks and bigger production values of major label Atlantic Records. The resulting record is a rare example of an indie group making the absolute most of that grab for the brass ring, as the band’s penchant for chiming dissonance is harnessed in pure rock finesse and a shiny new sense of harmony and song craft. The record was not much of a commercial success, and it has been out of print for years. Luckily for us, the band got back the rights to the master tapes, and it now is back in print on . . . Dischord, with tons of bonus tracks, a tough and tight remaster by Bob Weston (who also, along with Steve Albini, did a bang-up job on the recent remaster for Touch & Go stalwarts The Jesus Lizard), and a refurbished album cover that omits the blurry blow-up doll on the original. Epic tracks like the album’s lead single “Savory” stand out as some of the best indie rock (or “rock,” period) of the ’90s.

This kind of reassessment is ultimately the point of remasters: keeping records alive long enough that they can continue to impact the music of future decades. Whether you think that this is a marvelous smorgasbord for the music consumer or a crass cash-in by artists who don’t have the dignity just to let it go, newer generations of music fans, as a result of music reissues, are far more musically literate and more cognizant of the nooks and crannies of rock’s storied underground than previous generations ever could have been. Album reissues are essentially rock culture’s way of curating the past — one generation’s cult band flop album is a later one’s seminal work of influential brilliance, right? And with that past catching up to us at a rapid pace, what with our accelerating culture, perhaps it’s only a matter of time until every album is essentially a deluxe remastered edition from the moment it’s released. Until then, though, the past will always be filled with pay dirt waiting to be mined for buried gems ripe for reappraisal. Let’s hope we never have to stop digging.

Bat For Lashes: Paradise, 8/13/09, Boston, MA (Boston Phoenix)

Photo: David F. Nicholson

“It’s so hot!” Bat for Lashes multi-instrumentalist frontwoman Natasha Khan was sweating it out between songs en route to her piano stage left. “So are you!” yelled a girl in the crowd, breaking the silence and prompting waves of cheers and “wooooooh!” ejaculations.

It was a signature moment for this show, which had been set for April before being postponed so that Khan and company could play Letterman instead. And if the crowd was enthusiastic, it was also reverent. Khan and her band emerged to a wall of cheers that was as quickly smothered in a mist of shushing, and the silence allowed her lone voice, drenched in echo and compression, to wail out the introduction of “Glass,” the opening track of her new Two Suns (Astralwerks), with crystal clarity. The spell that she casts on her listeners is undeniable: the sold-out room was immobilized.

Once “Glass” kicked in, however, it became clear that nothing precious or pretentious was in store. Drummer Sarah Jones’s set of ginormous timpani hinted at an impending rhythmic drubbing. Khan’s growth since her debut, 2006′s Fur and Gold, is evident in the way Two Suns indulges in tribal drumming, 808 beat snaps, and the kind of accompanying sound vistas that have critics flipping through thesauri for other ways to say “widescreen.” The thundering percussion of “Glass” was a recurring motif, a potent counterpoint to Khan’s otherworldly lyrical nods to wizards, crystal towers. and mystic golden lights.

Her voice attracts comparisons with manic-pixie-chick vocalists like Björk, Kate Bush, and Tori Amos. But watching her live, it was easier to connect her with older female folk artists like Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez — especially in the way her voice recalls Baez’s unfashionable birdsong quiver. It all didn’t come across as overbearing, thanks in part to The multi-instrumental inventiveness of Ben Christopher and Charlotte Hatherley. Amid lush clouds of synths and echoing vocals, the percussion toed the line between heavy-footed techno and a nearly tribal Luddite wallop, notably on the spacy mantra-pop standouts “The Wizard” and “Trophy.”

For her part, Khan seemed both bemused and befuddled by the rapt attention pointed her way. After just 35 minutes, she announced, “This is the last song” — and with that we were enveloped in the astral jungle of “Pearl’s Dream.” When she returned for the requisite lengthy encore, she treated us to a solo voice-and-autoharp rendition of “Prescilla” before the rest of the band came out to atom-smash everyone into new-wave bliss with “Two Planets” and (big hit) “Daniel.” It was a rare stateside glimpse of an official UK Cult Artist playing a Seminal US Mini-Tour. But I came away feeling that Khan’s magnetic attraction to emotional extremes in musical form will be far better suited to the larger halls that will surely host her in the years to come.

Bat For Lashes (Boston Phoenix, 4/22/09)

“Hold on a sec.”

I’m on the phone with British multi-instrumentalist/singer-songwriter Natasha Khan (better known as Bat for Lashes), but the background chatter in her London press office is a bit overwhelming, so there’s a furtive rustle as she scuttles to a quiet spot. “Okay, that’s better. Sorry about that.”

No need for apologies. I’m getting a glimpse into a recurring motif for Bat for Lashes, that of escaping the fray for a secluded spot to think and create. For Khan this sort of forced seclusion has resulted in music rich with imagery and built on its own internal mythology. And it’s all guided by her peculiarly beguiling voice, spiraling and rising, fading and enveloping. When she finds a nook in the offices and we’re able to speak in relative quiet, I feel as if I were being let in on a secret.

I’m not, of course. Khan’s 2006 debut, Fur and Gold (Caroline), was nominated for Britain’s Mercury Prize, and no discussion of Bat for Lashes neglects to point out that her early supporters range from Björk to Yorke (who brought her on tour with Radiohead). But hype and famous fans notwithstanding, her musical world is often a solitary and strange place swirling with mythic and emotional tempests. “Trembling midnight lands/I travel with the wizard/Drink his blood and he’s our leader” would be perfectly at home in the realm of Viking metal. But this particular verse is from Khan’s debut single, “The Wizard,” and it’s got all her Bat for Lashy trademarks: the starkness, the seriousness, the crystal clarion calls of the vocal high points. She’s like an R&B Joan of Arc with a toy piano tossed into the wilderness without her superproducer.

Khan’s tangling of the otherworldly with the personal occurred through a strange confluence. “When I left university at 23 [she's now 29], I went to become a nursery-school teacher to kind of pay my rent and stuff. At the time, I was reading a lot of Carl Jung, as well as a lot of old fairy tales, and I just absorbed all of this information. I worked on songs when I would get home from work, and all of this stuff just kind of came out.”

The result was Fur and Gold, a gorgeously bizarre effort that’s as lush as it is raw. “I still think it’s a small record, my personal baby — I feel that it’s very pure and minimal and where I was at that point without any external interruptions. I was just living in Brighton, working, and indulging myself at that time with all sorts of instruments. That record, it’s like a secret, almost to me. I suppose that one’s first album is kind of imbued with the story of your whole life up to that point.”

Khan’s parents (an English Christian mother and a Pakistani Muslim father) split when she was 12. She has lived with both her father in Pakistan and her mother in England, but her hyperactive imagination ensured that wherever she was, part of her surroundings would always be of her own creation. “Growing up with religious parents, I think a lot of us can recognize symbols and metaphors and archetypal characters without even knowing. I think that mythology is extremely embedded in our culture, extremely important. If you look at the last 50 years, things have changed very quickly. Until then, you had the birth of the written word and storytelling and folkloric beginnings and pagan and religious stories, and I think there’s something universal about them. The Bible might be fairly far-fetched, but the metaphors still make some sense, you know?”

For all the hubbub over Khan’s predilection for fairy-tale lyrical elements, it’s important to note that her music always works at the intersection between myth and reality. “In my songs, sometimes the mythic elements outweigh the ‘real’ ones, but other songs are kind of straightforward and don’t use mythical language at all and are more naked, emotionally. I mean, I love fairy tales, but I also love Raymond Carver; I love E.T., but I like David Lynch, as well. They all kind of say the same thing to me.”

This juxtaposition of reality and fantasy continues on Two Suns (Astralwerks), only this time Khan’s sonic palette has broadened to fit the widescreen vistas of her recent experiences. It’s a record of her touring the world for a few years after the success of Fur and Gold. But it’s also a documentation of jubilation and heartbreak.

“I definitely went into this record knowing that I wanted to make a much more powerful-sounding, lush, much bolder record. I’d have loved to make another magical childlike sort of thing, but I had to be faithful to my — well, I had more going on, for me, and it’s not always pretty.”

For Khan, the years after Fur and Gold were spent in motion, whether traveling on tour or relocating to New York for a romance that, in ending, was the fulcrum for the album’s melancholy heart and its themes of duality and spectral coupling. “There are interplanetary things on this record: big skies and huge planets crashing into each other as a metaphor for relationships. I definitely felt a need for a more expansive sonic quality, you know?”

Two Suns‘ recording locations included the desert expanses of Joshua Tree, California. The wide-open panoramas are palpable in the opening “Glass,” with its tribal drumming, shimmering synths, and thousand-mile-canyon-echo vocal treatments. “A thousand crystal towers/A hundred emerald cities/And the hand of the watchman in the night sky/Points to my beloved” is the sort of fantastical couplet that’s gotten Khan pegged as a few dice rolls from Dungeons & Dragons territory. But for her, it’s all about making the mythic personal, taking ancient and personal touchstones and mixing them together till they feel not just sensible but inevitable. The lead single, “Daniel,” a darkly dancy anthem to running in the dark “under a sheet of rain in my heart,” is alleged to be an ode to Ralph Macchio’s title character from The Karate Kid. (The cover of the single shows Khan on the beach, her naked back emblazoned with a large portrait of Larusso-san himself.) How does this all fit?

“I think that my attraction to myth doesn’t just come through ancient sources; I’m fortunate to have grown up in a decade where there were so many amazing films about children experiencing epiphanies and having relationships with things much bigger than themselves. I think we all desire some sort of god or some kind of religious experience, whether it’s with an alien or with giants or whatever it is. I don’t separate science from religion, I don’t think that one is right and the other is wrong. I think that they are just different ways of looking at the very fundamental basic thing, which is that we’re all here and we’re all connected and we all go through the same things, and there isn’t an easy way to describe that.”

Not that Natasha is looking for easy ways; she’s too busy coming up with gorgeously complicated musical metaphors for these concepts, as well as finding ways to escape into her interior world.  ”I made this album in a number of different locations, but in some ways this record has nothing to do with the geography, because I was in the same place the whole time, watching my internal landscapes.  I think that art provides an escape for people, I think pulling people out of their everyday existence is the job of art in a lot of ways.  I think the mission to keep mystery and magic alive is very important.  There are a lot of other things that art does, but for me, this is one of my favorite things.”

BAT FOR LASHES + LEWIS AND CLARKE | Paradise, 967 Comm Ave, Boston | April 27 at 8 pm | $12 | 617.562.8800 or www.thedise.com