I remember Saturday afternoons in an apartment with a study room, the only house I ever lived in with a study room. I would crack open the window and pull aside the curtains, and I could hear the neighbours’ kids running about with their play pretends and the aunty downstairs washing her dishes and putting them out to dry. I would do my Math homework on my sister’s desk, because my desk was still a two feet tall desk from kindergarten with the alphabets on it, and I was already in primary school by then. I would turn on the beat-up stereo, with the dusty cassette players, and tune in to the World Chart Show on Radio 4. I would listen to the hosts’ perky American voices talking ever so fakely and laughing ever so happily, as they introduced the chart toppers in the 90’s.
It was probably my favourite music era, when music was still honest and they still meant something more than skin deep. There was One Headlight by The Wallflowers, Semi-Charmed Life by Third Eye Blind, Push by Matchbox 20 – back when they still spell ‘twenty’ numerically – Goo Goo Dolls with Iris, and The Verve’s Bittersweet Symphony, The Cardigans‘ Lovefool… I can go on forever.
You know how it was like when you were young and you listened to songs because you liked how the music sounds, without actually knowing what they really mean. Then when you are much older and you hear the song again and actually paid attention, and you realise that the guy is not actually singing about the birds and bees in the garden, but something else totally different. And it just makes you see the song in a whole new light.
That is kind of how it was for me with The Freshmen by The Verve Pipe. I never knew what the song was about, I just liked it when the song opened with the most honest guitar rifts, followed by Brian Vander Ark’s painful words of regret about his ex-girlfriend’s abortion. I never knew what he meant for probably five years before I heard it again , and actually realised what he meant. It was the day I sat in front of the TV and saw the music video, and just paused to breathe in this new knowledge. Whilst some people may start frowning upon songs they used to love after they read what was in between the lines, I could not have loved this song more.
Ah, what I would give to be 10 again, back in that apartment, doing the simplest Math questions as if they were the toughest, and listening to chirpy American DJs playing songs that meant the world to the songwriters.
Do you still remember your earliest memory with your love for music? Do share.
Alright, I give up. I have spent two days trying to come up with something worthy of reading about Explosions in the Sky because they deserve it. But I have been drawing up ideas that cannot even begin to describe how I feel every time I hear them.
I wanted to talk about their concert I went to in Brisbane back in February, but it has been so long ago I can barely recall it in details, especially when I was about to pass out from the beer I had. All I could remember was seeing bits of them behind the speakers that were blocking my view, and how the crowd just went utterly silent and bobbed their heads in a trance along with the band, and only cheered when each song finishes.
I came up with this silly plotline of how our music taste changes from time to time, and how one day I downloaded First Breath After Coma and that was how I got into Post Rock. Or how we would have a kind of soundtrack to our every day lives, and their songs are like that to every time I drive to work via the LDP and see the sun rising at the sky. One would know I am trying too hard when I had come up with something as dorky as that.
So, I am just going to let the music speak for itself. Because there is no words to describe them any better. Part of the reason why they are instrumental, I guess. There are already so many reviewers out there about them, and they may have done it better. However, I am just going to throw in the towel this time around, because I am short of words for them.
But do this for me. Start your long drive to work in the early hours of the morning with this song. Stay up late at night without the lights on and listen to them on your headphones/earphones and nothing lesser to get the full closure. You might actually see salvation.
Many many years ago in a land where a dark coloured ale with white foam at its peak is king of the table, lived a merry-band of friends who spent their time lazing around a room tinkering with instruments. They meddled with their respective choice of weapon and soon realized that they make decent noise together – enough to drive every apron-clad knife wielding mom insane.
That was the sign they were looking for and sure enough, bad ass recording company Polygram decided to pick them up and churn them into money making cows. Their evil plan seemed flawless and this merry-band of friends who collectively call themselves Juniper appeared to be destined to forever be puppets.
There was only one tiny glitch in the grand scheme of things. The evil people at Polygram underestimated how heroic Juniper front man, Damien Rice would turn out to be. At realizing the record company was going to destroy whatever artistic vision Juniper had, he bailed ship and moved to Tuscany to embark on a journey of self discovery. We all know how well that story turned out.
The remaining members of Juniper, now lead by Paul Noonan, regrouped and formed Bell X1 – made infamous of course by their epic track – Eve, the apple of my eye played over the lesbian kiss scene in The O.C.
As with all fairy tales, the evil nemesis eventually dies a tragic death. Polygram having failed to procure Juniper was soon assimilated and absorbed by other badder asses and is today part of the Universal Music Group. Bell X1 as of today, famous as they are, is at best mediocre. Without the driving force and vision of Damien Rice, the remaining members of Juniper will forever struggle to find their footing.
Let’s take a peek at how brilliant Juniper could have been if evil recording companies did not sought to wreck destruction over them.
Listen to Orchard by Juniper with Damien Rice on vocals
Download the song HERE.
It is always nice when a friend with similiar music taste jumps into your car all excited, unplugged your iPod without even asking you, then plugged on his own instead, and said, “you got to listen to this.”
What came on the stereo was barely audible. The rigid picking of the guitar laid the foundation for A Book Like This – six simple notes, that is all Angus and Julia Stone need for this song. Julia has a distinctive voice that reminds me immediately of Bjork, only saner. Her voice is like the pieces of vase you have accidentally broken while playing football in the house. It is gone, the vase, but as you pick up the shards you can still see the beautiful designs that made the pottery worth everything in your mom’s world. That is how her voice makes me feel.
Angus merely sings backup in this song, but if you check out their album of the same name, you will get dips of his lazy drawl that fits warmly with his sister’s fractured one. If it does not seem incestous, I would have said it is a wonderful marriage in the world of co-ed duos.
Less is more for this Australia-based sibling duo. I believe this is what Australia musicians will always have. Nothing grand. Nothing too much. Just one voice each from every instrument featured put together to make a simple song that still manage to grab you and hurl you all over the place.
Vern has been beckoned by the real world of sweaty football players and Swedish furniture. In the meantime, I am here happily obliged to fill in the blanks for him. Like beach sand filling up a jar full of rocks. I am hopping into your car all excited, messing up your radio channels without even asking you and plugging in my iPod. I am telling you, “you got to listen to this”.
Download A Book Like This by Angus and Julia Stone HERE.
Posted by Celeste 
Posted by Celeste 
Posted by vernadium 
