In-Car Entertainment

Yeah, yeah, I'm slipping behind with getting reviews done on time. I know! I've decided, though, that the date on the blog will be the date the CD was reviewed. So even though this is being written on Monday, it's dated last Friday. OK? It doesn't make much sense in the short term, but it's easier in the long term. Right...

Soundtrack time, and where better to start than with a Tarantino feature? One of the many remarkable traits of Quentin's films are the soundtracks they feature, delving into the more obscure (but not too obscure) and digging up all sorts of delights. It was the music accompanying Jackie Brown that opened my eyes (ears?) to a whole new world of soulful and funky music - I owe a large chunk of the direction of my collection to that one film.

So here we are with the latest release. For a film largely set in the American West, the music is unsurprisingly consistent. There are three Ennio Morricone tracks, all taken from previous westerns. The instant you hear these, you're there - stetsons, gunslingers and large cacti. Morricone's touch with a score is nothing short of genius: the track L'Arena (taken from the film 'Il Mercenario') is excellent, with an incessant, measured build that other soundtrack writers would die for. Similarly, there are Spanish and Mexican themed workouts.

Staying firmly in the USA, we have Johnny Cash tackling an old country standard, "A Satisfied Mind". In common with most of his latter-day recordings, the rawness and fraility in his voice is overwhelming. And then there are some more urban tracks, including an usual reworking of The Zombies "She's Not There", plus a slight return to the oriental themes of the first film.

Tarantino's use of existing film music is both an interesting musical journey and a fitting tribute to the films (and their soundtracks) that have gone before. The obligatory dialogue snippets included are fun the first time, but ultimately not hugely relevant to the musical proceedings. Despite looking like it's all spaghetti westerns, Kill Bill Vol 2 has a broad soundtrack that just manages to work without the film to keep it company.

I've been giving people lifts again, so the second half of this album is currently playing in my headphones as I sit at my PC typing away. Which is interesting; it keeps the whole thing fresh in my mind. It also means I can't quite follow the lyrics and write at the same time. More practice required!

Apologies to long-time Weezer fans for the rest of this paragraph; I know it annoys them. There's a good chance that if you're of a similar techy disposition to me, you discovered this group through a freebie video clip of the song "Buddy Holly" included on the Windows 95 CD-ROM. Oh how we smiled at the antics of the band as they placed themselves in an episode of Happy Days (whilst admiring Microsoft's latest video compression codec. Or was that just me?). Some of us found ourselves hooked to the melody, too. I was one, so I went out to buy this CD.

You can see why true Weezer fans hate this; their group is forevermore associated with an operating system. And yet, somehow, that's quite fitting. After all, this is group for which the term 'geek rook' was invented. Four guys, still going through uni (the band's tours were put on hold while lead vocalist Rivers Cuomo finished his studies at Harvard), and not the most slick-looking bunch you've ever seen. Look at the album cover. I work with people who dress like that.

The songs cover geeky themes, too: most notably "In The Garage", an anthem to hiding away in the comfort of your den, with only your Kiss poster collection for company. We also have what I believe rates as one of the greatest break-up songs, namely "Undone - the Sweater song", in which a guy already torn with his recent split says "hey, you've ruined me, you might as well ruin my jumper". It's rather wry stuff that works well.

A mid-90s heavy guitar post-grunge sound prevails throughout, with many a riff borrowed from 70s metal bands (like the aforementioned Kiss). Every time I play this album, it always surprises me how thick and loud the sound is. Surely I don't normally listen to that sort of thing? Then the vocals kick in: soft harmonies, very reminiscent of The Beach Boys, with catchy melodies, and that's what keeps me coming back.

The Blue Album stands alone in the Weezer section of my collection; I've never opted to try more from the group. Perhaps I should. Or perhaps I'm attached to this specific set of tunes for silly, geeky reasons. Hey, I can admit it - it's great fun!

It's only just occured to me that this could be tricky. There are many albums I have that I know very little about - they've just been recommended to me or I've bought them on impulse. This is particularly true with some of my earlier purchases, when I was starting to broaden my horizons and I'd vaguely heard that such-and-such would be a worthy purchase.

So Bluesbreakers found its way onto my shelves. I'm not even a huge fan of blues music. I mean, I don't dislike it, but it's not something I actively collect or rave about, either. It's just passed me by, that's all. But that's no excuse for not being able to present a quality album, and even a non-blues fan can see that this is a very fine selection indeed.

This record is frequently cited as the finest and most influential British blues collection of all time. It's not difficult to see why; the first-class line up, the quality of their musicianship and the soul with which they play are all so evident. In tackling a mixture of standards and self-penned works, John Mayall's group show effortlessly that white men can play the blues. British white men at that, too. It proved an eye-opener to many budding artists in this country at the time.

For me, the interest lies with the addition of Eric Clapton. The album slotted in between Clapton's first stint with the Yardbirds and his progression with Cream. It was the key stepping stone in his career. His guitar playing is so effortlessly smooth and soulful, it's difficult not to smile. And when he takes on vocal duties on "Rambling On My Mind", you can clearly see how he went on to achieve the status he did.

So there you go. No in-depth lyrical analysis, no critique of the musical progressions in Clapton's riffing, no argument, really. Pure and simple statement of the fact - just like the music.

We're currently enjoying something of an Indian summer; August's storms and torrential rain have been replaced by hot, dry and rather humid days. Well, when I say 'enjoying', I mean tolerating. The aircon in the office today wasn't even up to its usual inefficiency, and worse still, it smelt funny. Not good.

Still, the balmy weather makes it the perfect time to enjoy a few late summer sounds. Kirsty MacColl's final solo CD fits perfectly into this category. Hugely influenced by the sounds of Brazil, Mexico and Cuba, the balmy music, instrumentation and rhythms make it ideal. In fact, 'influenced' doesn't really do it justice; large portions of the album were recorded in Brazil with Brazillian musicians, so it's genuine South American product.

She's been through it all over the years, and that doesn't leave a person unscathed. The feeling on this album is definitely optimistic and empowering, but many of the tracks carry leering lyrics laying into the men in her life. As a listener, you're left in no doubt who's in charge. 'Us Amazonians' paves the way for a matriarchal society and 'Designer Life' dismisses the men who follow exactly that. But then there's the brilliance of 'England 2, Columbia 0' in which Kirsty likens her recently discarded character to the disappointed team.

A postdated review of this album cannot escape from the fact that, shortly after its recording, Kirsty was killed in a boating accident. You're left wondering what might have been. Eight years had elapsed since her previous solo release (the dark and bitter Titanic Days) and it seemed as if she'd just found her voice again. Try not to linger on that fact; instead, enjoy what's there for what it is.

Is there anything in the rules that says I can't do various artist compilations? I suppose it might move the focus away from albums, in the purist sense, but hey, what's wrong with a little pick 'n' mix? Without compilations, we wouldn't get the opportunity to sample so many different artists (or for that matter, own 42 copies of A Whiter Shade Of Pale).

This CD comes to you courtesy of the Blow Up club night, which currently hangs around The Metro on Oxford St. Not that I've ever been there - my interest in their range of CDs stems from student radio days, when I was eager to get my hands on any slightly esoteric-sounding instrumental tracks for the purposes of jingles, beds and the like. This took me through a phase of dodgy easy-listening compilations, some of which may well yet crop up on this page, but after I while I discovered the joys of library music, and I found it with Blow Up's Exclusive Blend series.

However, this particular compilation is slightly different, featuring commercially-released recordings: the sort of music played on their club nights. Hence there's a whole range of things, from 60s soul, 70s funk, some 90s sampled beats, jazzy pieces - you name it. I have several collections of similar styles and I like them to varying degrees. This one was easily one of the better ones.

Particular stand-outs include "Watts Breakaway", a superb funk workout by the Johnny Otis Show (who? exactly!), and the French-language soul of Jacques Dutronc's "Le Responsable" (apparently his name crops up in the lyrics to 'Brimful of Asha'...). The compilers suceed with their inclusion of unusual songs by mainstream acts; something that so often can mar a selection. So we get The Kinks, Georgie Fame and the Spencer Davis Group - oh, and even Andy Williams. Nothing you'd really know, but nothing that's obscure for the sake of it. That would get tedious very quickly.

An enjoyable and exciting compilation, all in all. Trouble is, it'll now go and join the ranks of similar CDs, and I'll quickly forget which good tracks were on which discs. Perhaps I need to make myself a compilation of the compilations?

You won't always get the added excitement of a weekend review. I tend not to make sufficiently lengthy car journeys on my own on a weekend - except for when I go to do my shift on hospital radio on a Sunday evening. That's a journey slightly longer than my usual work run, and so the perfect time to sneak in an additional record!

I don't remember buying this album. I think it must have been a freebie from radio days, or suchlike. I don't really recall listening to it, except for the lead track 'Son of Sam', and then that's probably for egotistical purposes. Still, there it has sat amongst the other Ss in the rack, and it was through a completely random choice that it got listened to this evening.

Hailing from Portland, Oregon, Elliott Smith only really emerged from the obscure indie masses after one of his songs was used on the Good Will Hunting soundtrack, receiving an Oscar nomination. That attention gave him access to major label finances and allowed him to dabble with more complex and detailed arrangements for his later works. Yet the theme here proves less is most definitely more.

This album from 2000 finds us firmly in singer-songwriter territory. The tracks fall into two broad categories. Most are sparse, some solely with Elliot's voice and acoustic guitar, others adding only a simple piano accompaniement. The doubling-up of his own singing and playing makes for an interesting effect; if you can imagine Simon & Garfunkel but with two Paul Simons, you won't be far wrong. Another familiar reference is the more laid-back pieces from Badly Drawn Boy (although of course, this album came first).

The remaining tracks are more dense, with drums, electric guitar and strings. One or two of these work quite well, but I feel others are rather out of place. Indeed, at 16 tracks, this is quite a long album, and a small amount of editing could have worked well. I found on the journey home that I began to lose attention with the closing tracks. There's certainly a great lyrical depth, intense and rather dark in places, but I didn't find myself compelled to pay attention throughout.

I think this one's a slow grower. Play it once and you'll only latch onto the opening track. But give it a few loving listens and I reckon you'll start to see hidden depths. I get the impression this could be an album that crops up on future 'unsung classics' lists; for now, though, it needs time to mature.