CHVRCHES, Bones, and Synth Trends of the Teens

Review and discussion on The Bones of What You Believe, a 2013 release from CHVRCHES.

Relevant links

A bit about nostalgia
A bit more about nostalgia and M83 

 

Howard Jones' Dream Into Action: The Optimist's Prime

 Review and discussion on Howard Jones' 1986 album Dream Into Action

Reflection and Gesture: Imogen Heap's "Sparks"

Review and discussion on Imogen Heap's 2014 album Sparks



Relevant links: Here's a very early text-based post on its predecessor Ellipse

Looking Backward and Forward to S U R V I V E

In all of the eight years I spent in Austin, I rarely got out to see any music. Chalk it up to parenthood. Even when it came to SXSW, which has now grown into a ridiculous monster way beyond anyone's imagination, I only ever went to free shows, and I am pretty sure that I can count all of them I actually got out to on one hand.

During one particularly rainy SXSW afternoon I ventured out to see a band that, thanks to the recommendation of a friend, had become an unlikely favorite. The synth band S U R V I V E, who supplied the memorable soundtrack to a trip in Tuscon, was setting up a rare informal show at record store and personal browsing spot End of an Ear. Even without hardcopy, MNQ026 had uncharacteristically stood the test of time, clawing its way to classic status in my book, and I did not want to pass up the chance to see them for free up close. I got there a little early, so I had to the chance to talk with one of the members briefly, mainly to ask if it would be cool if I took some pictures of the band’s gear.

“Yes,” he said decisively, “it would be VERY cool.”

The band was clearly proud of their setup, and although I certainly don’t have the insight to make heads or tails of it all, I know enough to appreciate what they have assembled. What became more apparent when they began their performance, however, was the way in which they had total mastery over those instruments. Many of the artists that S U R V I V E call influences were experimenting with the possibilities of these instruments when they were new, but S U R V I V E knows what each instrument is capable of and uses it to compelling effect. It was a great show that was not done justice by the poor videos I took.

That was two years ago. Now, thanks to some of the band’s members being involved in the distinctive soundtrack to a delightfully retro-creepy Netflix series, S U R V I V E are as close to the big time as an experimental synth outfit can hope to get. Coincidentally, and even before their attachment to Stranger Things, they had recorded and set a release date for MNQ026’s follow-up, RR7349.

Of all of my September 30 new releases (and there were several), this was the one that I have anticipated the most.  Its predecessor's compelling mix of texture, timbre, atmosphere, and melody has kept me coming back, and it has been my hope that RR7349 could recapture the magic, so to speak.



The verdict? It seems that it has. RR7349 still sounds as if it is the soundtrack to a long-lost Blade Runner spin-off. It delivers on the nostalgia in terms of sound and structure, which is largely due the array of vintage instruments that the band employs, but is also harbors a nuanced melodic side that exists in a carefully crafted balance with its layered atmospheres. In this regard, it is remarkably consistent. Anyone who was brought up with the darker sides of Jean-Michel Jarre, Tangerine Dream, and other 70s synth pioneers floating around the house will find a whole lot to like on RR7349.



So one of the regrets I have now that Austin is in my rearview mirror is that I am not as locally available for S U R V I V E's increasingly frequent live performances. They do seem to tour more readily, however, so it might be possible to catch them in the metroplex. Probably not in Denton, though. It’s safe to assume that they are too big for all that now. I’d love to be proven wrong on that, though…...

S U R V I V E: Staring Down an Invasion in Tuscon

My friend The Best Man and I have been promising each other that we would eventually crack the underground Austin synth scene. He recently discovered a band called S U R V I V E but alas, their album was only available in sold- out limited edition vinyl and downloadable MP3. As much as I value the suggestions of friends, this limitation would have probably kept them out of rotation permanently.

Last weekend, however, in a direct attempt to stare down my remaining apprehensions about heavy lifting, I attended a CrossFit Olympic Lifting Instructors Course in Tuscon, Arizona. This was to be a quick solo trip, so any music I planned to bring for the plane ride and layovers would have to be in soft format. It seemed like an opportunity to give S U R V I V E a shot.



This ended up being a smart move. While I still admit that I would like to see the album cover professionally printed and mounted in a jewel case, the content of the album is shady and immersive in a way that can best be delivered through earphones. I played S U R V I V E through my phone when I was walking around Tuscon, which ended up being quite a bit more than I had initially planned. Once I got a feel for the area between my hotel and CrossFit Works, I found that I preferred a 30 minute walk surrounded by distant mountains and an epic alien invasion soundtrack to an 8 minute (and $10) drive with an awkward Russian cabbie.



S U R V I V E takes more than one page from Jean Micheal Jarre’s early playbook, particularly the ethereal and dynamic Equinoxe, Oxygene, and Les Chantes Magetiques trilogy. Jarre was playful and exploratory on these synth masterpieces. In contrast, S U R V I V E conjures a dark, ominous, and almost gothic tone using the gloomy synth sounds of late 80s Depeche Mode. While other electronic projects like the F*ck Buttons might use more contemporary technology to produce a broader variety of sounds, S U R V I V E does a whole lot more musically with much less.



S U R V I V E is one of several local synth bands that orbit around the Austin vintage synth shop Switched On, and they are so underground that they almost don’t exist. There are a few reviews of their sporadic live shows that indicate that their performances are epic. Aside from these, some links that lead to album download, and an intermittently updated Facebook page, there is very little about S U R V I V E online. I can barely figure out if or when they are playing next, but I would be interested in seeing them live.

From what I have seen, however, they seem to have some sort of following in Germany. While that’s not too surprising, considering the history of synth music in what is Kraftwerk’s homeland, I have never had to do a Euros conversion to purchase an album from a local band before.

Not too long ago, I became a bit snobby about listening only to local music, because I was convinced that it held the potential to stand outside of the agenda of the record industry. “Independent music” is, paradoxically, more mainstream now, and has its own political agenda that musicians have to navigate. S U R V I V E is one of those bands that purposefully fly under the radar, doing something not for fortune or fame, but because they have a genuine love for what they do. They are clearly passionate about the untapped potentials of traditional analog synthesizers and their current relevance, and their adoration of these instruments infuses their music with conviction.

Letting Up Despite Great Faults and the Emerging Synthgaze

It was the second morning of my CrossFit level-1 certification program, and I was feeling pretty euphoric. I had gotten up early, eaten a well-rounded paleo-zone breakfast, and studied my materials while listening to the Asian shoegaze compilation Half Dreaming. Stepping out of my hotel room, I was experiencing gratitude for the life I have, as well as the obstacles that were in my way that grant me the perspective to appreciate my good fortune. I was even thankful for the questionable cup of freshly brewed hotel coffee I balanced in my hand as I juggled my bags and keys.

Untogether, an album by a band called Letting Up Despite Great Faults, was in the CD player. This was a conscious, deliberate decision that I had prearranged the evening before. It seemed a fitting soundtrack for the weekend, because after all, the album was in my hands entirely due to CrossFit.

Activities like aikido and CrossFit are good for introverted people who like to be social (people like me!). In the dojo or at the box, a person’s identity in the “real world” matters less than what they bring inside. It’s possible to get to know people in these environments without really knowing much about them. In the course of my training, I discovered that a fellow CrossFitter in my box plays keyboards and sings for Letting Up Despite Great Faults. She was kind enough to give me a copy of Untogether, and I immediately put it into rotation.  Here's a "fan video" of sorts for the lead track, Visions.



In the weeks prior to my cert, I had already developed a strong appreciation for the way that Untogether buys into the romance of late 80s synth-pop with its conspicuous use of analog synth and gated drum sounds. The breathy delivery of the vocals and their transparent placement in the mix, however, is sullen and isolated in a way that is clearly reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine. I had heard a similar juxtaposition on M83’s masterful tribute to 80s nostalgia Saturdays=Youth, but Letting Up Despite Great Faults differentiates themselves by steering clear of grandiose cosmology. Instead, their overall sound is noticeably more reserved, engaging the more intimate potentials of an emerging “synthgaze” style.



On this specific occasion, however, I had an Indonesian contribution to Half Dreaming, a track called Unperfect Sky, still ringing in my ears from the hotel room.  Unlike many artists on that collection, Elemental Gaze prominently features keyboards.



Distracted as I was by exciting visions of perfect air squats and push presses, when Untogether burst forth from the stereo I thought that, for a fleeting instant, Half-Dreaming had somehow transported into my car. The impression was conveyed in nothing more than a momentary wall of timbre and passed at once, but it was visceral.

The roots of shoegaze extend beyond My Bloody Valentine, and although guitar effects were prominent in many of the bands that wore this moniker, many employed synthesizers, as well.  Despite coming from opposite sides of the planet, the timbral relationship between these particular bands is a reflection of a common interest in the potentials in their shared heritage.  Contemporary synthgaze projects like Letting Up Despite Great Faults seem to explore a parallel reality in which alternative music wasn’t overrun by Nirvana and, subsequently, grunge. Untogether is an appealing excursion into these potentials, and on that particular Sunday morning, it brought the prospects of the day ahead brimming to the surface of my awareness. 

The Slow Simmer of Miike Snow

Despite my ideal mindset of being an open-minded listener, when it comes to popular or contemporary music, I listen critically.  These two opposing tendencies can sometimes make it difficult to discern if the artist is being disingenuous or if I am just being stubborn and closed-minded.  The process of trying to figure that out usually requires repeated listening, and I will often let an album “simmer” for months in the hopes that it will “open up” to me.  Sometimes I wonder how patient I should really be.

Like many people, however, my favorite albums end up being the ones that that I am initially ambivalent about.  With a few exceptions, like Mew and the first Mars Volta album, if I immediately like a recording, its days are numbered.  So, to keep from listening to the same old stuff (or things that sound too much like the same old stuff), I try to push through this initial resistance.  The reward is to have those songs bring back this time in my life later and be able to say being able to say things like “I was really into Miike Snow when your mom was pregnant with you."

Although it is sometimes tempting to do so, I don’t want to dedicate too much blog space toward extensive artist biographies.  I personally find it interesting, but you have Wikipedia for that.  I will say, however, that Miike Snow the band grew out of Miike Snow the production project.  The band was constructed around a sound that was created in a studio setting, resulting in pretty interesting and innovative technological approach to performance.

I found out about them through Pandora through an M83 seed last summer.  Like M83, they could be broadly categorized as “electro-pop,” perhaps with a stylistic family tree that branches back to A-ha and the less sunny side of Howard Jones.  Unlike M83, though, Miike Snow did not really grab me at first.  It did, however, give me a slightly familiar, vacuous feeling, like I just did not “get it.” Although I did not like it, I did not dislike it, and for some reason it seemed to stay in the player when other CD’s came and went.  Several times, I would take it out and it would somehow find its way back in.

“Moments” with specific songs from Miike Snow began to occur.  The song “Burial” turned the insanity of a Renaissance fair into a contemplative moment, and in another instance I caught myself singing “Animal” at work.  The real kick to the head came, however, when I heard “Faker” out of context on Pandora during a house clean.  It stopped me in my tracks, even though at that point I had been listening to Miike Show for several months.  With its eloquent piano accompaniment, it seemed much more intimate than my impression of Miike Snow as an electronic outfit.  I was overlooking the songwriting aspect of the band, and when I went back and listened to the entire recording with this mindset, I realized it had several great songs on it, perhaps even a couple of astounding ones.  Additionally, all of the songs were intended for listening more than dancing and they often made a pretty straightforward lyrical point.  

It’s pretty ridiculous that it took me six months to figure that out.  What can I say?  I’m stubborn.  At least I know I am.

After that, I found this clip and it brought the song “Silvia” to life for me.  I think its kinda funny that, when people with electric guitars experiment in performance, it’s called “jamming,” but when electronic musicians do so, it’s called “remix.”  The sound on this clip is a little thin, and the bass is lost in the mix, but I think it shows how these musicians do their stuff in an up-close and personal way.

I will warn you, if you choose to look into Miike Snow further, there are some live clips with performance issues that are hard to ignore.  I think that they are most likely the result of the band working out the complexities of getting the studio to come to life on stage.  Their more current video clips are quite impressive, however, and I think that they have improved dramatically as a live outfit.  With all of the electronics involved, the easy solution would be to merely play along with a sequenced backing track.  For Miike Snow, it seems to be important that human hands directly control all of the sounds in real time.  That is something about them that I really, really appreciate.