Comic Review: Rat Queens Volume 1 - Sass And Sorcery

  As much as the world in general still thinks of comics and superheroes as interchangeable terms, you, fine and learned reader, are well aware that comics tackle a huge variety of genres, from journalism and biography to noir and sci-fi. However, perusing the shelves of your local comic book store or library, you will notice that for a medium with lot of demographic crossover with properties like Lord of the Rings, high fantasy is a little under-represented.

  Particularly when it comes to the larger US publishers, modern urban fantasy outweighs your traditional sword-and-sorcery stories by a hefty portion. I'm sure there's a whole blog post to be had in diving into the possible reasons behind this, but I won't be doing that here. The notable point is this: for a medium where a larger-than-normal section of the audience have probably played Dungeons & Dragons, comics seem to be leaving some money on the table.

  That's why a comic like Rat Queens comes as such a breath of fresh air. Written by Kurtis J Wiebe with art by the fantastically named Roc Upchurch, and lettered by Ed Brisson, Rat Queens is a gloriously visceral approach to fantasy comics, blending traditional high fantasy trappings with a decidedly modern outlook. The comic owes a lot to Dungeons & Dragons and similar games - the comic follows an adventuring party with the classic make-up of a fighter, a thief, a wizard and a cleric, and includes such traditional trappings as rival adventurers, quests handed out by town officials and magical relics. However, the comic is shot through with an affectionate self-awareness and an almost Tarantino-esque violent streak that marks it apart from both the sterility of something like Lord of the Rings and the grim reality of Game of Thrones.

  The other immediately notable thing about Rat Queens is the female-heavy cast. All four main characters are female, as are numerous members of the supporting cast, all of them well-developed. Upchurch's art presents a wide variety of body types and his facial expressions are fantastic, capturing glee, rage, flirtation, grim determination and everything in between perfectly. Not only is the friendship between Hannah, Violet, Dee and Betty at the core of the book, but their relationship with other women is also important - Hannah has a complex rivalry with Tizzie, the leader of a rival adventuring group, and Betty's "courtship" of Faeyri forms a sweet subplot that runs through the volume.

  Within this first arc, Wiebe manages to not only tell a compelling story, but do a great job establishing characters and building the world the story take place in (things like Hannah's mobile phone-equivalent being the product of dark necromancy are among the nice touches). Likewise, Upchurch is a great storyteller, with dynamic panel structures that splinter and skew the more furious the combat grows, and wonderful quieter moments like the page where Betty applies a Sherlockian eye to a local guild-leader's office. 

  In fact, the only place where the book falls down a little is in the blurb on the back of the trade that reduces the characters to simple archetypes like "Hannah the Rockabilly Elven Mage" and "Violet the Hipster Dwarven Fighter". While this helps sell the modern sensibility of the book, it suggests a much less elegant story without the affection Rat Queens shows for both the genre and its characters. And while Violet may be a hipster (she shaved her beard off before it was cool), the characters are so much more than these simple descriptors suggest.

  While I'm not about to leap to buying the single issues (maintaining such a light, raucous tone means it's harder to build the kind of stakes monthly serialisation requires) I'll definitely be buying the next collection of Rat Queens, and I can only suggest you catch up now before all the other cool kids do.

FULL CREDITS: Rat Queens Volume 1 - Sass & Sorcery is published by Image Comics as part of their Shadowline inprint. It is written by Kurtis J Wiebe, with art and covers by Roc Upchurch. Ed Brisson is the letterer, and Laura Tavishati is the editor. Jim Valentino is the publisher and book designer.

Person of the Year 2013 - Kelly Sue DeConnick and Matt Fraction

As is tradition, this article was first posted earlier today on Alex-Spencer.co.uk, digital home of pop culture impresario and dancefloor whirlwind Alex Spencer. As always, Alex brings you the finest in commentary and consideration, and at this very moment is running his tracks of the year through an elimination tournament to discover who emerges victorious. His articles always make for the most nuanced, entertaining reading available, and you should go check it out as soon as you're done here.

The good thing about making the rules is that you can decide when to break them. That's something I think this year's choice for Person of the Year represents, and so it that spirit, I'm breaking my own rules, and declaring a joint selection this year.

Kelly Sue DeConnick and Matt Fraction are both comic writers who have had great years. They have worked within the system of the "Big Two" comic companies to craft superhero stories that resonate on a personal level and are elevated beyond folks in tight costumes punching each other (not that there's anything wrong with the occasional spandex fistfight) and also produced independent books that have pushed themselves and the medium creatively into telling new types of stories. They are deft practitioners of social media, using their Twitter/Tumblr/whatever presence to interact with fans and build a sense of community among like-minded readers. They are everything a modern comic writer should be. They also happen to be married to each other.

 

Let us consider Kelly Sue DeConnick first. Having risen up through manga translation and the odd issue and mini-series at Marvel, Kelly Sue earned the job of relaunching Carol Danvers as Captain Marvel in July 2012.

Captain Marvel #10, cover by Joe Quinones

Danvers, as Ms Marvel, was a character that Marvel had slowly been raising the profile of, clearly aware of their lack of a female superhero able to support her own series a la Wonder Woman. Ms Marvel was a natural choice for this evolution, and with Kelly Sue's relaunch, she finally took the name Captain. Like so many female superheroes, Danvers' origin was tied to a male hero, the original Captain Marvel, but by taking on the mantle as her own, both the character and Marvel themselves were making the statement that this was no longer a spin-off, distaff companion to another hero. She had inherited his name, and so was his equal.

The series proceeded to build a upon the ideas of legacy, exploring the world of female aviators while Carol adventured through time and fought monsters and villains across the world. DeConnick built a wonderful supporting cast for Carol, using established characters from her previous solo series and introducing new ones, and in one of the most exciting developments, this year it was revealed that the Ms Marvel title would relaunch with a young hero inspired by Carol's exploits. 

 

There is a long and embarrassing history in comic books of female heroes all being based on existing male characters - Batwoman, Supergirl, She-Hulk, etc - and while many of these characters have had fantastic stories written about them that treated them as well-rounded, three dimensional characters, that initial secondary nature hangs over them. Just as Carol Danvers had shed that idea by truly embracing her position as Captain Marvel, the new Ms Marvel, Kamala Khan, is unique for being one of the few female heroes inspired by another female character. 

 

As many of 2014's "Year in Review" style articles will tell you, we seem to be part of an exciting time for feminism, and bringing the idea of female role models, mentoring and friendship to the fore in this way is just one of the methods DeConnick has used to create a modern feminist hero in Captain Marvel. The book is full of interesting, conflicted woman who feel real, and who deal with issues that all readers can relate to (albeit in the magnified, larger-than-life way that superhero comics tend to use). This deeply integrated feminism has created a huge and devoted fanbase online, the Carol Corps, who read, write, draw, craft and cosplay to support their hero. Captain Marvel is relaunching with a new number 1 in 2014 and I can't wait to see where DeConnick sends Danvers next.

Pretty Deadly #2, cover by Emma Rios

DeConnick's other big project this year was a creator owned one, a mythical Western horror series called Pretty Deadly she made with Emma Rios, Jordie Bellaire and Clayton Cowles. Pretty Deadly is well removed from Captain Marvel's primary coloured exploits, for although Carol Danvers is a complex, rounded character, there's no denying she's a hero. As befits its genre roots, there are no obvious heroes in Pretty Deadly.

 

Instead, there's Johnny the nihilistic coward, languishing in a prostitute's bed with a bruised ego. Fox, the blind wanderer with a dark secret. And Deathface Ginny herself, the granddaughter of Death, a skull-faced avenger loosed on the world. Pretty Deadly is different to almost everything out there at the moment, a lyrical folkloric tale that entrances and disturbs in equal measure. Rios' beautiful fluid art and inspired layouts combine perfectly with the tone DeConnick creates, giving everything an otherworldly, dream-like feel. Each issue begins with the framing story, as the tale of Deathface Ginny to told between a butterfly and a skeletal rabbit, and the first issue was largely taken up with a gorgeously relayed song describing Ginny's origins. These stylistic choices feel like acts of faith, asking people to get on board with the book's atmosphere, accept the world the team is weaving that is so different to most other comics. 

 

 I'm sure there were a fair few people who never got past young Sissy's song of Death's daughter locked in a tower, but those of us who gave the book a chance became utterly bewitched by the story that is being told. Pretty Deadly is DeConnick's first creator owned series, and that she has chosen such a bold, unique story, clearly born of her passions and executed in such a confident way speaks volumes about her skill as a writer.

Hawkeye #3, art by David Aja

Let's turn now to Matt Fraction. Fraction has been a "name" in comics for much longer, moving from his early independent work with AiT/PlanetLar and Image to higher profile jobs at Marvel, relaunching Iron Fist with Ed Brubaker and writing acclaimed runs on the X-Men, Thor and Iron Man. 

 

Like Kelly Sue, the summer of 2012 saw him relaunching an existing hero at Marvel, in his case Hawkeye. Reteaming with his Iron Fist artist the incredible David Aja, Fraction took Marvel's archer (his profile raised by an appearance in the Avengers film) and re-positioned him as a true everyman hero, one who drank straight from the coffee maker and struggled to connect his DVR. Hawkeye became a book about what a (relatively) grounded hero does when not being an Avenger, and focused on Clint Barton's relationship with his young protege Kate Bishop, also called Hawkeye. 

 

Indeed, by the time of this article, the two have parted ways and the book alternates, spending one issue with Barton in New York and one with Bishop in Los Angeles. Like Captain Marvel embracing her new name, Kate Bishop is as much Hawkeye as Clint Barton, and in many cases seems to have her life a lot more together. The series serves in part as a deconstruction of the hero and sidekick trope, showing that when you take an established but flawed existing hero and pair them with a hyper-competent teen then things are not going to run smoothly. 

 

As well as sharing the spotlight with Kate Bishop, 2013 saw Fraction and Aja release Hawkeye #11, "Pizza is my Business", an issue told entirely from the point of view of Lucky, Hawkeye's dog. It was a stylistic tour de force, utilising Aja's astonishing layouts to show how Lucky's senses interpret the world through scent. It wasn't simply empty spectacle or showing off though - the issue also drove the overarching plot forward in multiple ways, in many ways proving a pivotal issue in the run so far. It was a great example of a story that could only be told as a comic, and showed how the medium can be pushed forward.

 

Sex Criminals #1, art by Chip Zdarsky

Fraction has had multiple other titles out this year, included acclaimed runs on Fantastic Four and its sister title FF, and his Satellite Sam series with Howard Chaykin, but I'm going to focus on his new Image series with cartoonist Chip Zdarksy, Sex Criminals. From its provocative title to its frank depiction of sex, Sex Criminals seems to be a comic built to shock people, but for all the penises and orgasms, it's actually an incredibly sweet and honest story of two people falling in love. 

 

Suzie and John, the protagonists, have a unique ability to stop time when they climax. When they discover each other after meeting at a party, they share how they came to realise they had this power, and how it shaped their sexual awakenings. Now, having finally met someone with a similar ability, they quickly begin to fall for each other, and as they do, realise that they can use their ability to save the library Suzie works at. It's a gloriously silly comic, featuring the two lead characters goofing around in a sex shop and, in issue 3, a full blown musical number (of a sort). 

 

Obviously, inevitably, it's also filled with hundreds of filthy jokes, from the numerous sex moves an more experienced girl tells a teenaged Suzie about, to the different categories of porn in the sex shop. I have rarely laughed at a comic as much as I have at Sex Criminals. But at the core of the story is something much more personal - a story about connection, about the different ways we have sex and how frightening and alienating youth can be. Like Hawkeye, Fraction has an amazing collaborator in the form of Zdarsky, who gives Suzie and John a human warmth and life, and contributes more than his fair share of the jokes to the pages. It is one of those rare comics that I would recommend to everyone, as long as they don't mind dick jokes.

 

It should be clear by this point that both DeConnick and Fraction are writers at the top of their game, forever pushing the envelope in terms of what can be achieved in mainstream comics. They've both gone to great lengths to make even their work-for-hire into projects they are passionate about, ones that are shot through with their personality. But accomplishment and expertise alone ill not win you the coveted "Person of the Year" award.

Both Kelly Sue and Matt have gone to great lengths to be accessible and honest with their fans. They talk, enthuse and joke around with people online. Kelly Sue is fiercely protective and supportive of her Carol Corps, and Matt manages to balance absurdist humour with humbling honesty about his struggles with addiction and depression. They reach out to fans and welcome it when fans reach back. More than that, they share their lives openly and in a way that encourages respect, rather then invasive prying.

They have two young children together, and watching the slices of their family life that they present, they're clearly loving, generous parents, whether they're building a cardboard city for their son and his friends to destroy for a Giant Monster themed birthday or servicing their daughter's two current loves by painting a toy tool bench pink. They have the sort of family life that makes me wonder if I could get adopted by them.

I was lucky enough to meet them both at Thought Bubble this year and in person, they are exactly as charming, friendly and wonderful as their presence on the Internet suggests. Both were faced with huge queues for both days of the convention, but treated each person who lined up to get something signed with patience and kindness, and were more than happy to chat about their work and their lives. In a world where public personae are increasingly managed, not just by celebrities but by Joe Average, it's refreshing to see two people who have need to do so. I hold both Kelly Sue and Matt up as icons, and meeting them only cemented that.

Dr Nerdrage or; How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Kill Batman

My friend Bret and I often like to play the popular Nerd Sport of “If I Was In Charge…” where we take over creative direction and editorial control of Star Wars, or Marvel, or whatever, but usually with an incredibly specific remit such as “Construct a team of Avengers that has a specific mission or area of expertise” or “Make a team of 80s/90s villains to face off against the Expendables”. One of the most recent ones that Bret posed to me was this:

“You have been given the job of killing off Batman. DC have decided it’s time to let him die and to try something radically new. You have to come up with the storyline that leads to his death, but it has to involve a C-list member of his rogues gallery who is revealed to have been pulling the strings in his life all along.”

Of course, this is never something that DC would go for – Batman is their number one cash cow, and to radically rewrite his history at the same time as killing him off would cause some kind of collective fanboy aneurysm. Still, you have to buy into the premise in these exercises, and with that said, I managed to provide an answer that resulted in Bret saying “You have to write that up and share it – I don’t care if you get death threats.” So, with our criteria clear and the understanding that this will never, ever actually happen so if you stumble across this and feel the need to rent your frustrations in Caps Lock, take a breath and reconsider your life, here’s what I came up with:

HOW I KILL BATMAN

Our story opens with a flashback to (stylistically) late 60s Batman, just before Neal Adams reworked the hero to be closer to the gothic badass we are familiar with today. Robin is still Dick Grayson, and comic books have not yet fallen into the chasm of “dark and gritty means grown-up”. Robin and Batman are dealing with a riot at Arkham Asylum. In the midst of the fighting, Batman is thrown from a high stairwell and his grappling hook fails to connect. He falls heavily to the floor and is briefly knocked out. After a few moments, he reawakens to find his nose bloody, his ankle sprained and some of Arkham’s inmates advancing on him, but despite his grogginess he manages to defeat them, and resume bringing the asylum under control. However, in the shadows at the base of the stairs, a figure watches him swing off, their plan already in motion.

Jump forward to the Batman of today (for your information, I’m not bothering working out where this all stands in the whole “New 52” continuity – I’m working with old school Bats) and there is a mass breakout from Arkham Asylum. Over the course of what is likely almost a year’s worth of issues, Batman finds himself dealing with most of his major foes in some way or another, all free and causing trouble at the same time. So far, so Knightfall, right? Well, yes and no, because not only are the villains free, they seem dangerously co-ordinated. There are multiple attacks on Wayne Manor by villains that have no idea about Batman’s secret identity. Others go to work on isolating Gotham, disrupting the efforts of other heroes (both in the Bat-family and the wider universe) to help. Batman slowly becomes cut-off from his allies and increasingly stretched thin.

Needless to say, Batman suspects some kind of conspiracy or massive villain team-up, but even when captured and exposed to the standard Bat-Intimidation-Techniques, multiple villains claim no knowledge of a wider plan - they just happen to be working in unison, with no larger goal. As the attacks step up and Batman becomes less and less able to combat the free-roaming villains, the Joker kills Alfred and Commission Gordon. Batman is justifiably pissed, and we see what we think must be the start of a roaring rampage of revenge, as Batman gets his groove back and takes all the villains to school. But when he drops in on the Joker, he finds himself ambushed by several villains (the notably tougher/more combat able ones) and eventually captured.

Returned to the partially ruined Wayne Manor, Batman rages against the Joker, who lords it over him, but then a voice rings out "It wasn't his idea. It never was" and from the shadows emerges Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter.

The Mad Hatter explains, through a series of flashbacks, that he was always far smarter and far less crazy than Batman gave him credit for. His time as a supervillain was a mere distraction, a break from the day to day. Really, an obsession with Alice in Wonderland and hats? What did Batman take him for? His insanity was a smokescreen, produced by a chip in his head that would allow him to appear a harmless (or at least, borderline harmless) madman for weeks at a time while his normal consciousness worked on scientific problems, then return him to his normal self at a designated time. His own mind was the first he ever controlled. Well, almost the first, he says, gesturing towards Joker.

Poor Joker. He had to test his insanity simulator, of course, and thank the Lord he did. A faulty connection in the nanocircuitry led to Joker being uncontrollable insane until Tetch was able to correct the implant a few years ago. Of course, by then, he had also implanted almost every other foe in Batman's rogues gallery, certainly any of those who ever passed through Arkham. It's incredible what you can smuggle in once you have a guard under your control. Why did Batman think so many of his foes were so utterly consumed with foiling him? Why had so few ever left Gotham to practice their criminal activities in less well-protected cities. Why did none of them respond to treatments for their insanity. Because Tetch wanted them crazy and focused on revenge. He wanted Batman's life to be one of unending struggle against evil.

Why? Because Batman had embarrassed him, that's why. His forays into supercrime had been a whim, trying out what seemed to be a fashionable craze, and Batman had defeated him, beaten him and thrown him in Arkham. He would have his revenge. He would turn the dark side of Batman's city against him, forever. There would be no peace for him. No respite. His fight would be eternal, as long as Tetch desired.

Of course, that had changed slightly on that fateful day years ago, when Batman had fallen, unconscious, at his feet in Arkham. You see, Tetch could now see that Batman was as sick as the very criminals he fought. He may not steal or kill or torture, but his obsession was palpable. If he had set aside his quest for justice, he could have recovered from the death of his parents, rather than dragging other people into it. He could have spent the Wayne fortune creating lasting change in the city, eliminating the conditions that created so much crime. But no - that would never be enough. Tetch would see to it. You see, in that minute when Batman had laid helpless at his feet, he too had fallen victim to the Mad Hatter. He too, was under Tetch's control.

It was only subtle pokes and prods, of course. Just enough to steer him towards his endless, un-winnable crusade and away from any hope of a normal life. And he could have been normal, have been happy. Tetch has seen his thoughts. But no, he would be punished for his slight, for his arrogance. The villains would never stop coming, and Batman would never retreat. He was locked in an endless conflict that would eventually kill him. Unless, of course, Tetch decided otherwise.

At this point, Tetch pulls out a small device and explains that he's going to do what Batman never could. He will end the devastation of Gotham, the plaque of supercrime, and he will give Batman his happy ending. And with a push of a button, the assembled villains (excluding Tetch) collapse, blood leaking from their ears, their nose, their eyes. And deep inside Batman's brain, a tiny, undetectable web of nanomachines triggers, rewriting synapses and channeling chemicals to new spots. And Tetch? He simply walks away.

We move forward six months. Gotham has recovered from the villain's wave of destruction and for once, things are actually looking up. Reconstruction is ahead of schedule, and crime is down. The city is improving. In the newly renovated, mostly empty halls of Arkham Asylum, a man talks with one of the doctors. The damage to his friend's nervous system is irreparable - he can function more or less normally, but his fine motor skills and hand-to-eye co-ordination are shot, as is his concentration. He's the same man he was, he's just clumsier and less focused. No, replies the man, this isn't anything like the man I knew. His drive is gone. He remembers everything, but he doesn't care anymore. He's...happy.

He takes a seat in the Visitor's Room and his friend, Bruce Wayne, is brought through to see him. He doesn't understand why he's being kept here, but he doesn't mind. He gets to watch TV and talk to people. Hey, he thought of a joke. Would you like to hear?

"Sure" says the man who used to be the Joker, his face recovering from a round of plastic surgery to return it to normal - only two more to go.

"Why didn't I do well on my date? Because I had BAT breath! Get it?"

The Joker laughs, humouring his friend, then pats him on the hand and leaves.

Play To Z: 1977 to 8701

Random Observations

  I've heard some recent commentary on The-Dream AKA Terius Nash's career, claiming that 1977, the album length free EP he put out in 2011, was half-baked and thrown out to keep his name afloat in critical circles. I haven't listened to half as much of his earlier stuff as I'd like to, but if there's any truth in that it must be some of the best music out there, because I love 1977. Songs like "Used To Be", "Ghetto" and "Wish You Were Mine" are all astonishing works of confessional RnB, with the infectious "Wedding Crasher" serving as a centrepiece to the album, all wounded pride and self-conscious self-destruction.

  When I was young and ignorant, I was clueless about a lot of music, but even though I only knew their poppier stuff, I was aware that The Beatles had transformed modern music and were incredibly innovative. When I finally made the effort to listen to their discography, it's clear how truly groundbreaking they were. But in terms of their legacy and how they are viewed in modern culture, it feels like the Beach Boys should be spoken of in the same breath. The Beatles have acknowledged how much Pet Sounds impacted their own music, and Brian Wilson is often held up as a tragic genius figure. Still, listening to 20 Golden Greats, the Beach Boys compilation that is the sole piece of music I've taken from my father's meager collection, it seems like the minds behind such complex, multi-levelled songs as "Help Me, Rhonda" and "Good Vibrations" showed be treated with the same regard.

  I'm going to need some more time with Justin Timberlake's newest album. JT is one of the finest contemporary purveyors of danceable, disposable pop music, so his decision to fill his latest album with slower songs that average out at six and a half minutes is a puzzling one. It's a sign that he didn't just return to music to shoot out a barely-considered album on autopilot, but it's still a curious choice. Still, with songs like "Mirrors" and "Strawberry Bubblegum", I'm happy to give it time to grow on me.

  It's a couple of years old now, but Azealia Banks' "212" remains electric. So far, she's shown no signs of being able to move beyond it's eclipse, but it's a hell of an act to follow.

  If you've enjoyed reading these blogs and you haven't seen 24 Hour Party People, Michael Winterbottom's biopic of Factory Records, stop reading now and go find a copy. The soundtrack alone is worth your effort and time, even without the fantastic performances and thrilling portrait of England in the 70s, 80s and 90s.

  Listening to 4, Beyoncé's most recent album, it feels like she's moving closer and closer to her own genre-defining work. Like the aforementioned Pet Sounds, Revolver, Nevermind or My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (to name but a few), Beyoncé's next album could well be one that will truly stand the test of time. Every album she's produced has pushed her sound further and harder, and brought with it singles that will help define this time period, musically. It will be harder for her, of course, because she is a woman, an unapologetically commercial pop artist and co-writer at best on most of her songs, but looking at where she stands right now in the cultural landscape, she absolutely deserves to be remembered alongside the great artists of our time. Listen to songs like "Countdown", "End Of Time" and "Run The World (Girls)" and tell me she doesn't.

  It feels somehow appropriate that my last few songs should include John Cage's "4'33". You better believe I listened to the whole damn thing.

  Kanye West's 808s & Heartbreaks was obviously divisive, but it feels like the step he needed to take, both as a producer and a lyricist. He never exactly shied away from speaking his mind, but this album strips away a lot of the bombast and reveals a more intimate portrait of West, just in time for the surge in confessional hip-hop he helped start to reach its crest. Musically, it takes him into a new direction, again stripping back and finding his core, ready for the next album to build layer upon layer on that core. It's got less hits that the previous three albums, but it was a shock of honesty at a time when his own myth was threatening to swallow him whole.

  And what was the final song of this whole endeavour?



Rediscovered Gem

"Heroes and Villains" by The Beach Boys



What Now?

I'll be back shortly with a directory post that makes it easy to chart this whole project from start to finish, plus a conclusion post where I sum up whether I actually learned anything from doing this. I hope I did, otherwise it's been a hell of a way to waste 10 months...

Play To Z: What's Poppin' Vol 1 to 1972

Random Observations

  Being a teenager is an awful, horrible experience. It's tortures are innumerable, but large among them is the weight of peer pressure. I am only thankful that I was out of my high school years by the time social networking truly exploded - I cannot imagine the experience magnified through the privacy-denying world of Facebook and Twitter. Anyway, as I've written previously, I didn't really forge any kind of musical taste or identity for myself until I hit 18, so high school consisted largely of agreeing with whatever my friends liked.
  I can remember sneering in adolescent derision at Girls Aloud as they emerged from Popstars: The Rivals. I can remember seeing Cheryl Cole (then Tweedy) arrested for her racist assault in a night club and making what I thought was an oh-so-zeitgeisty observation that with accelerated stardom came an accelerated decline. I can remember deriding their songs and going back to listen to Tenacious D.
  But all the time, a little voice in the back of my head was saying "But their first single...it was really catchy...it was doing interesting things..." When What Will The Neighbours Say came out I was out of high school's pressure cooker and growing into myself. The videos for "The Show" and "Love Machine" were on regular rotation on the two Freeview music channels, and by then, I was willing to accept the irresistible lure of Xenomania's dancefloor ready beats and clever, subversive lyrics, channeled through Girls Aloud's obvious talent.

  Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not would be an impressive album even stripped of context. Knowing that it was a debut album written by a band when most of the members hadn't turned 20 makes it a marvel. It carries such assurance, in both the instrumentation and the songwriting. There is no sloppiness disguised as punk-rock intention - this is a precise beast, stopping and starting and turning on a dime, humming along with a well-engineered purr. The topics of the lyrics may not vary, but Alex Turner engages them with such fine observation that it doesn't wear. In fact, by taking a universe and exploring it so thoroughly from multiple viewpoints and with a true sense of place, it could almost be a concept album. The fact that the Arctic Monkeys didn't rest on their laurels and simply try to recreate this album, musically or thematically, is the cherry on the already delicious cake.

  "Wichita Lineman" by Glen Campbell is one of the songs I want played at my funeral. His voice is beautiful - rich and simple, carrying loneliness and longing. The song balances a sort of country/Americana aesthetic with a sweet, Burt Bacharach kind of melody, and there's that iconic synthesizer Morse Code tapping out into the night. It's been called "the first existential country song" and there are many who proclaim it one of the best pop songs ever. Listening to it now, it's easy to see how.

  Witching Hour by Ladytron is like carving a passage into a glacier only to discover that it's got the world's coolest nightclub inside.

  As I mentioned near the beginning of this whole escapade (sometime in October I believe), We Are Scientists are one of those straightforward bands that aren't trying to reinvent the wheel, they're just trying to make some great pop music. With Love And Squalor, their first album, is a blueprint for their subsequent ones, producing song after song that you want to be hearing in the slightly dive-y back room of a bar in New York as you dance with your friends at 3am.

  I have no idea what "Lisztomania" by Phoenix is actually about (I'm pretty sure it's not actually about Franz Liszt) but I don't particularly care. I just wanna dance to it.

  Whenever I hear "Joker & The Thief" by Wolfmother, I feel sad that it wasn't around in the late 80s and early 90s, so it could inevitably be used in a Schwarzenegger vehicle. Imagine that spiraling guitar riff being played over the gearing up sequence in Commando and you will share my pain.

  Yeah So by Slow Club is a great album, topped off by a truly amazing song. "Our Most Brilliant Friends" became a touchstone of mine a couple of years ago when it felt like every friend of mine was lurching from tragedy to tragedy. It's hard to watch those you care about dealing with things that they have little control over, and the only help you can really offer is a shoulder to cry on and the distracting power of alcohol. To me, this song will always be about the strength my friends have, strength I didn't even know about, to endure and to triumph even when life is shitting on them from the greatest of heights.

  Broken Social Scene's You Forgot It In People moved them beyond the ambient sounds of their first record into the expansive post-rock collectivism that would come to define them. Released in 2002, it was bought in 2007 at Amoeba Records in San Francisco by Tim Maytom, who proclaimed it "the tits".

  I have 100 songs left to listen to. The next post will talk about them, and the post after will look back at this whole glorious endeavor.

Rediscovered Gem

"Tapas" by Action Bronson

Play To Z: Under The Blacklight to What's Going On

Random Observations

A lot of people don't like Rilo Kiley's Under The Blacklight. I get it, I really do. Simultaneously their major label debut and final album, it's a departure from their previous sound towards a more commercially viable one, after a three year wait for a new album, and was followed by the band's split. But that's all tied in with following the band as that all unfolded. As someone who came to the band late and discovered all their material more or less at the same time, songs like "Breakin' Up" and "The Angels Hung Around" still stand out as fantastic songwriting, and great showcases for Jenny Lewis' wonderfully smoky voice.
 

I hadn't heard any Vampire Weekend before I bought their eponymous first album; I did so on a recommendation from some website or magazine so glowing that I felt fairly confident I wasn't wasting my money. I remember placing the CD into the stereo, pressing play and within about 30 seconds thinking "Oh, well I've found the album I'm going to be listening to all summer". The rest of it didn't disappoint, with barely a misstep and a fully formed voice that felt different to anything I was listening to at the time.

The terrible local radio station I listened to as a kid was the sort that still played Sting's "Englishman In New York" every couple of days, even though at that point it was already 10 years old. I'm not saying it's a bad song - far from it. I'm just saying, listening to it now, I wonder how much of my own image of manhood was influenced by Sting telling me that "a gentleman will walk but never run". That said, I don't like tea and love coffee, so maybe I'm talking nonsense.

At this point, we had reached the "Very Best of..." section of the alphabet, so I got to listened to a selection of The Jam, The Smiths and The Stone Roses in short succession. That was a good day.

My very good friend Jason (whose music taste I trust wholeheartedly) and I have a running joke/argument about which is the better Stone Roses song. I say "I Am The Resurrection", he says "Fools Gold", and whenever we happen to be at a 90s night and either of them is played, we will stand there shouting the song titles at each other until we get bored and start dancing instead.

I'm pretty sure Brian Ritchie, the bassist for the Violent Femmes, has extra fingers, or possibly some kind of telekinetic power over his guitar. Listen to the bass line on half of their songs and you'll be left wondering "How the hell did he do that?"

Cibo Matto's "Birthday Cake", an insane slice of Japanese mash-up hip-hop, will forever remind me of being 18 years old, of house parties and watching borderline incomprehensible anime while hungover.

"U-Mass" by the Pixies is possibly the best advert for a university that exists or ever will exist.

I've already written extensively about why "We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed" is my favourite song here, so I'll just say that nothing has changed, and it remains, to me, perfect.

Tim Fact of the Day:We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions, Bruce Springsteen's album of American folksong covers, includes his version of "John Henry", who was one of the folk heroes I wrote my dissertation about. Enjoy that little morsel, fact fans.

When I was a kid, I used to get these weird...attacks, I guess? Looking back now, I'd say they were some form of panic attack, or at least some kind of anxiety, but back then I didn't know what they were. They were never serious enough to warrant mentioning them to anyone, and seemed to only happen when I was trying to get to sleep. It felt like the world had been slowed down, but I was processing it at double speed, like I was being overwhelmed by the wealth of information inherent in everything. I was clearly a very existential child. I mention all of this because there is something about "Impacilla Carpisung" by The Tings Tings that harkens back to that feeling - the way the vocals layer in the chorus, the slightly off persussion, the lyrics that linger on the border of nonsense. It's an uncomfortable song for me to listen to, and I somehow doubt it's the emotional resonance that the band was going for when they wrote it.

I suck at video games. I never played enough as a kid to develop the right mindset, mainly because my dad was convinced that plugging a Megadrive into the television would somehow destroy it, despite the fact it was DESIGNED FOR THAT VERY PURPOSE (I'm not bitter). Even games like Guitar Hero, which don't use a conventional controller, I struggle with. That said, I can rock "My Name Is Jonas" by Weezer flawlessly on Medium difficulty. Be impressed.

Rediscovered Gem

"Slick" by Chew Lips

Play To Z: Them Crooked Vultures to Under Construction

Random Observations

  They might have found their sound with The Color And The Shape, but There Is Nothing Left To Lose was where the Foo Fighters truly locked in onto what they wanted their albums to sound like. There's the obvious single "Learn To Fly", a couple of rockier songs, a couple of softer ones, and the rest is just a bland soup for the ears. The whole album slips by like a dull afternoon or a midseason episode of a crime procedural. It is a Sonic Tuesday.

  This Is Happening arrived like a balm after a long period of not very good albums. They weren't bad. They just were just unmemorable. This Is Happening is memorable. It is memories. Places and time layered upon each other. Amongst James Murphy's wide-ranging and impressive skill set is an ability to balance a very specific sense of location with a universal accessibility. Each song creates a small world that feels real and familiar, like visiting an old haunt. It's a talent you find in the best novelists (and holy shit, take a moment to consider how great a novel by James Murphy would inevitably be) and a few great musicians.

  Ahh...The Three EPs. The Beta Band's first album, constructed from three previous EPs (as you might gather from the name). I got into The Beta Band because of that scene in High Fidelity where Rob says he will sell five copies of The Three EPs, puts on "Dry The Rain" and watches the customers in the store groove along to the emerging melody. I'd estimate that that scene sold a hell of a lot more than five copies of that particular album. I can remember buying it alongside some other records and while everything else got played upstairs on my shitty little Asda stereo while I studied or read, I somehow knew to wait for The Three EPs. I put aside time to listen to it. I played it on the good stereo downstairs in the living room. And it rewarded it me immensely.

  Oh hey, Thriller is still a great album.

  I've written in previous posts about my unending affection for The Go! Team, but it's worth drawing your attention to "Junior Kickstart" from Thunder, Lightning, Strike as quite possibly the best chase music ever, as evidenced by this video.



  Being an old country, England has a lot of odd laws that remain in force from earlier generations. Many of these are completely redundant and woefully out of date (things like all men having to practice archery on a Sunday) but I think it's safe to say the legislation that states that no couple are truly married until "Come On Eileen" by Dexy's Midnight Runners is played at their reception is still relevant.

  To my future biopic's director - please soundtrack any fight scenes with "Crown On The Ground" by Sleigh Bells.

Eli's Coming

  I have written in the past, in various places across the Internet, of my long-standing affection for Sports Night, Aaron Sorkin's first venture into television before The West Wing. It's not a perfect beast, hampered as it was by network intervention and Sorkin's sometimes ham-fisted politicking, but it still holds a myriad of pleasures. One of these was introducing me to "Eli's Coming" by Three Dog Night, which serves as both the title and a recurring idea for the 19th episode of the first season.

(SPOILERS FOR SPORTS NIGHT AND THE WEST WING FOLLOW)

  Dan Rydell, one of the lead characters and one my all-time favourite fictional characters, uses the phrase to mean "something bad" is approaching, "a darkness", having misunderstood the song when he first heard it. Even when corrected (the song is actually about a scoundrel and a womaniser), he continues to mutter it throughout the episode, as omens of tragedy appear. When, in the closing moments and in the middle of a live broadcast, they find out Isaac, the show's Managing Editor, has suffered a stroke, the song plays as they are forced to hide their concerns and carry on with the show.

Robert Guillaume as Isaac Jaffe

  The plot of the show mirrored real life - Robert Guillaume, who played Isaac Jaffe, had himself suffered a minor stroke and the show had to find a way to write him out for a period. Isaac's return and rehabilitation on the show all played out as Robert himself was undergoing the same thing, and watching as the cast reacts to this fictional news, one can only think that they must have reacted similarly in real life. It is a situation that tragically repeated itself on The West Wing when, in the final season, founding cast member John Spencer died of a heart attack and his character, Leo McGarry, is killed off in the same way. If you want to watch me cry like a baby, show me the episode "Requiem", revolving around his funeral. I will blub like an infant.

  The use of "Eli's Coming" in the episode is perfect. By foreshadowing not just Isaac's stroke but the song's significance so boldly, viewers are already set for something terrible happening. When it appears at the episode's close, it's like a well-executed reveal of a monster that has before simply hidden in the shadows. The song starts sparse, with little more than the wailed warning of "Eli's coming...girl you better hide you heart" before the instrumentation kicks in after 30 seconds, the song suddenly exploding with pace and life. It serves as a perfect auditory recreation of that stomach-dropping moment of bad news, followed by life rushing back in and reminding you that you are still here, in this moment, with things to do. It's an unconventional song to use, but it does a magnificent job.

Rediscovered Gem

"Get Off" by The Dandy Warhols