Showing posts with label australia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label australia. Show all posts


Gone Global: Emerging Musicians from Around the World



Though buffaBLOG's focus might be (mostly) on Buffalo, the blog itself has already brought in readers from across the blue-green planet. As much of a brain-melting life-drainer as the Internet can be, it does connect us, and it can introduce us to some wonderful music that otherwise may never have made it here from over the seas and far away.

Emerging musicians from all ends of the earth (plus or minus Antarctica) have reached out to buffaBLOG, sharing their songs, their souls, and expanding the way we think about the arts. The following acts are well worth dipping your ears into:

Ilias is an Algerian/Australian musician based in Sydney, Australia. His ghostly, indefinable debut album, Somewhere in Time, is the result of ten years of songwriting. "I wrote maybe 100 musical pieces, some songs, some sketches, some instrumentals," says Ilias, "But I was always haunted by a certain group of songs... I decided I needed to produce these songs, to break the spell and move on, in a sense." 

Putting in place rigorous standards for the recording process, Ilias explains, "I felt that something so ambitious needed a set of rules, and producing, writing, and playing everything myself was one of them." Refusing to use pitch correction or fade outs and relying heavily on a modular, improvisation-tinged approach, Ilias further ensured Somewhere in Time displayed an organic, authentic style of songwriting.

Citing as diverse artists as D'Angelo, Brian Wilson, and Burt Bacharach for influences, Ilias has nonetheless developed an ethereal, hypnotic jazz-inflected dream-pop sound that is very much his own. He can be visited here





I Said Yes are an alternative folk-pop act composed of members from throughout the UK, proud to be hated by Noel Gallagher of Oasis. Despite Gallagher's qualms, I Said Yes have been lauded by BBC London and XLM, and have performed alongside such renowned musicians as Florence + the Machine and Johnny Flynn.

In an interview with the BBC, the band described their formation, stating, "For three of us, it all started with recording really lo-fi covers of punk-pop songs in our sitting room, and then after an afternoon's busking a couple of years later we became a five-piece."

Clearly impacted by the New Folk movement that spawned Noah and the Whale, Mumford and Sons, and others, I Said Yes bring freshness and instrumental variation to a popular subgenre. Their colorful first EP can be heard here





Closer to home, Bazile is a space folk solo artist from Houston, Texas. His latest effort, The Sojourn of Professor Narducci, is an odd and endearing exploration into the unknown. It also benefits from sound engineering and co-production courtesy of Alabama Shakes keyboardist Ben Tanner.

Creating his own genre fusions, Bazile pursues "gospel punk" on "Hi-Fi" and refers to his song "Save the Manatee" as a "lyrically eccentric love mystery." His satirical jabs, sonic switches, and bursts of emotion are as surprising as they are surreal.

Part Beck, part Ben Folds, part Sufjan Stevens, Bazile is always inventive. The Sojourn of Professor Narducci is now streaming on Soundcloud and its single "Employment" can be downloaded for free








Album Review: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - Push the Sky Away



The Internet. The great game-changer and life-leveler of modern existence, sticking the world to its wide web.

As the entire compendium of human knowledge (or at least the illusion of such a compendium) becomes a click away, does the value of knowledge itself go down? Why learn anything when you can Google it and forget it? Why write anything when it has been written before and posted on Tumblr? Why develop real human relationships when you have Facebook friends, when you can IM or Skype those you never need to hug or shake germy hands with? There are a hundred million porn sites to edify all sexual desires and fantasies, a hundred million shopping sites to remove any need to stand in line, a hundred million gaming, video streaming, and torrenting sites to provide centuries of free entertainment, all for your personal convenience.

In a digital age where human personalities are willingly stored on servers, where genetic code becomes HTML code, how can art hope to adjust?

By pushing on with a trembling Kierkegaardian faith in an uncontainable, uncodable sublimity, according to Nick Cave’s fifteenth Bad Seeds release. Cave has stated that Push the Sky Away is meant to “question how we might recognize and assign weight to what’s genuinely important” as the Internet floods us with gigabyte upon gigabyte of random information.

On “We Real Cool,” Cave sarcastically sings of “Wikipedia’s heaven,” where “the past is the past and it’s here to stay.” Similarly, “Higgs Boson Blues” provides a “Desolation Row” style stream-of-consciousness intended to reflect the Web’s postmodern pastiche, the hodgepodge erudition and pop culture sputtering of the collective human scatterbrain. The extended ballad blends speculative physics with the legend of bluesman Robert Johnson, the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, and the escapades of Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus across Africa.

Bleakly humorous at best, Cave’s ruminations feel gray regardless of colorful word choice and subject material. Each low to mid-tempo song is somber and dirge-like in tone. The heavy rocking of Grinderman and The Birthday Party, bands Cave once energetically fronted, and the youthful punk yelping of the Bad Seed’s early albums, are utterly absent from Push the Sky Away. A rainy day record conjuring Leonard Cohen at his most viciously tortured, the album reaches with wispy fingers of doom, promising rainier days to come, a “simulated rainy season” with no reprieve.

Cave writes with the grim literate dreaminess of a 21st century T.S. Eliot, associating the sea with fleeting, frustrated, fading sexuality on “Water’s Edge” and “Mermaids.” His speaker succumbs to hypocrisy and drowns in degradation on “Jubilee Street” and its self-conscious Sufjan Stevens-inflected follow-up “Finishing Jubilee Street.” Elsewhere, the chatspeak-titled album opener “We No Who U R” introduces a recurring image of flaming trees that “burn with blackened hands” as it speaks of a graceless era where all is known, the private made public domain. Cave is an old soul in a brave new world, trudging through an unfeeling digital Waste Land devoid of authentic connection.

Not all is hopeless, however. The albums ends with Cave “preaching in a language that’s completely new,” urging listeners to follow the suggestion of the record’s name and “push the sky away.” Championing self-overcoming, Cave ultimately abandons his concerns with Internet realms in favor of real life’s immediacy. Hiding melancholy love songs in sweeping works of social satire, he chooses to be as heartfelt as he is relevant, as thoughtful as he is crafty. At 55 years old, the Australian singer-songwriter continues to evolve, adapt, and reexamine his role as one of our planet’s most necessary artists.

In closing: This review has been brought to you by the Internet. Now shutdown the computer, pick up Nick Cave’s record, and go live life.

Grade: A