2003-2008 |
Singles Albums Compilations Video and DVD
Last updated 24 September 2008
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Butthole Surfers - Blind Eye Sees All
Filmed over two nights in February and March 1985 at Traxx in Detroit during what appeared to be a freezing cold winter (this is demonstrated by Gibby Haynes popping outside for the intro and outro to the film, stark naked apart from a drawing of a penis in a strategic location), the thirteen songs find the Butthole Surfers in an exquisitly full-tilt state of dementia onstage. Gibby starts each show in a different costume each night, and it's hard to decide which is the less flattering - outrageously back-combed hair, bra and skin tight white trousers, or a voluminous tent affair with a tripped-out head full of pegs. As the shows and disc progresses, he loses more and more of the clothes, while appearing naked again and again, including some non-sequiter snippets of audience banter which appear to have been filmed at other gigs. Then there are the eminently-quotable interviews. The band mostly sit undressed in bed with their pizza, beer, and other substances while dogs do their canine thing and the interviewer cowers in the foreground. Hardly a question is answered, let alone lucidly, and it's left to Gibby to explain things. The truth about the Etruscans, the Bolivians, the Artesians and the Wallhonklers for example, or the Chinese men tied to walls showing worm movies through their penises into the air "in apparent disgruntle and dismay". Some of the images Gibby grasps from his addled stream of consciousness are stunningly odd, drawing out an LSD epistimology which includes the Fartholes who "had VW buses that they had designed like they were cathederals of GOD!" All of this is merely the edited highlights of the first interview section alone, and the rest are as insanely inventive. Even though Paul Leary and the others join in with the laterally-fried badinage ("I told him ectoplasm! It's the thing today", extended fits of spluttering or slow self-echoed chants of "LS.D...P.C.P...smashed his head against the wall..." which morph via baaing into a tremendous all-band singalong of "Blow The Man Down"), it's Gibby's pickled pearls of anti-wisdom which linger. By the end, the interviewer is pelted with bottlecaps and is left to cower under his jacket in the face of unremitting oddity before asking weakly "So, you guys are from Texas?" Naturally they reply, "Canada". The original Touch & Go VHS tape has been remastered into 5.1 Surround Sound, and while not being able to report on how successfully, the stereo recording option is crisp and well defined, especially in comparison to the murky depradations of video tape. Old Buttholes favourites like "The Shah Sleeps In Lee Harvey's Grave" and "Bar-be-que Pope" are delivered by a gurning and raging Leary while Gibby amuses himself torturing a saxophone or performing weird activities with a stuffed object made from pillows. The clattery stand-up drumming by King Coffey and Theresa Nervosa allows them plenty of room to cavort wildly as they bash out the rhythms during energetic renditions of "Hey" and "Tornados". The band's onstage presence is magnetizing, lit by strobes and intercut with semi-subliminal images of upsidown baby dolls, skulls and out of focus faces in agony and/or speed-driven ecstacy. A pounding charge through the the vibrato-laced "Dum Dum", the scorching spasmodic chug and toilet-roll vocals of "Mexican Caravan" and an equally rasping megaphone take of "Cherub" make way for a quick display of Gibby's leg mole - "There it is, kicking ass, sorta brown, got two hairs today. Sometimes I tremble, sometimes people throw money at it....". He growls and splutters through the arm-fart and vomit-sound punctuations of the joyously raucous stroke of growled-out genius which is "Lady Sniff", provoking some of Leary's most outrageous guitar strangling recorded. However, the opening dual-drum pounding of "Something" gives way to one of the better stage entrances yet devised - with a Sousaphone wound around the staggering bass player's shoulders, a moment of baffling hilarity which is soon offset by the thunderous parping which underpins what is one of the more vicous songs in an equally twisted band's repertoire of interpersonal hatred. The end comes in two instrumental trips; "Mark Says Alright"'s gurgling, throbbing nightmare, and the uplifting space rock cruise into overdrive on sinuous guitar harmonies in the shape of the tremendous rambling jamathon "P.S.Y". In these two tracks, the Butthole Surfers show that, despite all the entertainingly-addled lysergic silliness and outrageous obsession with the gruesome side of life, when they set themselves to performing full-tilt escapist psychedelic rock music they're more than capable of blowing their own antics off stage in a welter of whammy-bar and recursive delay effects. Once the strobes have flickered out, a nude Gibby steps gingerly outside to chuck a snowball at the camera before loping off into the night, secure in the knowledge of a job well done on all fronts, musical as well as mind blowing. Bonus material includes a spirited live romp through "Negro Observer" from 1991, but despite a typically busy light show, doesn't really compare to the Blind Eye recordings. There's a gallery of photos, posters and flyers accompanied by a rare 5" single version of "American Woman" - most disturbing of which are Paul Leary's sleazily scatological phallic clown sketches which bring nightmarish comparisons with John Wayne Gacy's paintings to mind. Apart from a briefly-entertaining Buttholes Karaoke option, which allows watching of several tracks with singalong subtitles, that's it for extras; but they're hardly needed - Blind Eye See All stands as a unique work of concert video lateral lunacy all by itself, and one which has yet to be bettered. -Richard Fontenoy- (Cf. Gyrus' article "100 Million People Dead", inspired by Blind Eye Sees All) |
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Ryoji Ikeda - Formula Sometimes, nothing satisfies quite like the immersive intensity of a minimalist audio-visual feast for eyes, ears and cerebellum, and Formula provides more than adequate satisfaction on all counts. Starting with the packaging, which is realised with superb attention to detail and layout, from the gallery-quality booklet on heavy white paper encased in a protective plastic slipcase to the spacious listings of times and dates, releases and installations, complete with schematics and hall diagrams. The DVD menus are equally straightforward - white screeens, titles, links. The disc divides into two sections, Installations and Concert. The former has eight selections, presented in both stereo and AC3 Surround Sound for the full audio impact of works which were created with immersive listening in mind. So it's possible to recreate the Millenium Dome experience in any space, suitable or otherwise, to repaint a convenient hallway white and pipe "A" from the Hayward Gallery along its length and to set a solo designer chair at the centre of a suitably reflective room to enjoy the hiss, blip'n'rumble of "db" . Failing that, it's quite possible to set the disc playing on a mono TV set and to forget its even a video thanks to the blank screen and strangely directional qualities even this method provides - the sussurus and switching glitches and the barely audible hums make effective backround/foreground motions from definite perception to unsettling ambience of uncertain location. By contrast, Concert is assuredly there to be watched and involved with - to let the visual and audio stimuli accumulate to satiation point. From the opening emergence of a single white line across the screen of The Garden Hall, Tokyo in October 2001 the piece sets out its structure with logical precision, while allowing random acts of chaos their own (regulated) space. Each blip and warble has its accompanying visual - a sliding crosshair, a brightly-twitching slash, a scanline made visible as if the screen had overclocked its refresh rate into loss of vertical hold.The three variations on "Headphonics" insinuate themselves into strict rhythmic layers, bass pulsation to abstract hiss and constant ripples of pure tonal undercarriage ripped with micro-shards of pink noise. No simulations of analogue sounds, no snare or bass drum, just the electronic basics accomapny pattern variations of increasing complexity, with grids stepping to a hypnotic Techno groove. Then the rapid-fire number theory waterfall of "+../-" sweeps down the stage screen, reflected in the polished floor, the fractal tumble of digits offering ASCII animations in increasing abstract depth and close-up resolution, sonically as much as visually. So when the surprise American announcer states "it's the most beautiful ugly sound in the world" with a shift of gear into rapid-fire subliminal images and morse-code and voice comms bursts, it's hard to disagree. The urgent demands of a hyperspeed transmission shot forth from a coruscating diamond fold into a reprise of the earlier elision of line and cross to the bristling electronic pulse - the intrusion of organic imagery jars at first, then becomes another stimulus to match the linear acceleration bouncing across a stereo soundscape not entirely devoid of its own warmth among the accreted sequences of trills and rips. For the finale, it's back to the numbers, in square formation this time, winding down as the formerly precise lines degrade into slow motion wipes and fades. The music matches the hesitant mood, adjusting the flow of time into perceptible passing of the seconds. Bursts of massively-accellerated noise, aided by strobing white screens preface the return of stripes of broader activity and vaguely identifiable real-world origin, the rhythms by now sparkling and bubbling into liquid activity. The fade up into blinding light fizzles out, literally and acoustically - the end is sudden and complete, sparking an unsettling shift into reality. Note: Formula is currently only available as a limited edition direct from Touch for 25 or 40 Euros + postage. -Antron S. Meister- |
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The Levellers - Chaos Theory Live
One thing The Levellers have always been is generous- long sets, free festival appearances... and this DVD is no exception. Well, these DVDs, really- Chaos Theory's a double, with a live gig at Reading Hexagon, and extras including an acoustic set among whose guests are Steeleye Span's Maddy Prior and Rev Hammer (occasionally part of Red Sky Coven with New Model Army's Justin Sullivan in case you haven't heard of him, which you really should have- he's fucking great). The gig is, of course, the main attraction. And it's a blinder. It's easy to forget among all the anarchy and the crusty image what a professional bunch of musicians The Levellers actually are. Like any decent Punk band (which is, essentially, what they are, though they make a wonderful Folk-rock noise) the trick appears to be in being disciplined enough to make the whole thing look effortless, like al that energy just takes over automatically. (And Jeremy also narrowly beats Colin from Conflict in the "least appropriately named bloke in a Punk band" stakes). Setlistwise (is that even a word?) it's pretty comprehensive- there's stuff here from every stage of their career (I must confess, I lost them a bit round about Beautiful Day, which is nowhere near as bad as I remembered but still not their best by a long way)- they start with "England My Home" and "15 Years". After that it doesn't really matter to the crowd what they play- they all seem to know and love 'em all. I'd have liked to see "Is This Art?", but last time I saw them live they played it and a friend, who loved the band but didn't know the song, said "what's this bollocks?" - so I could just be full of shit and wrong. Though it's the stuff from their self-titled second album which seems to go down best; hardly surprising, considering it was their most popular record. But what of the second disc? The acoustic set's storming- given the Folky nature of Levellers songs, they unsurprisingly translate well to this format without sounding like an MTV Unplugged gimmick. Nick Burbridge sings his own "Dirty Davey" (the Levellers' cover of the song is on the first disc) and things rock out considerably. There's also the encore from Beautiful Days 2005, where the band are introduced by celebrity toker Howard Marks, and accompanied by Billy Bragg (again, something of a Marmite musician, but one of whom I'm a fan), who begins with a rabble-rousing elegy for Joe Strummer and a rant against "that corporate shit" before covering "Police And Thieves" and "Police On My Back", which is pretty fucking cool, 'cos I wasn't expecting it at all, before ending with "English Civil War". Basically, like Marmite, yodelling and Snakes on a Plane, you're either gonna like this or you're not, and nothing I say can convince you otherwise. But remember- The Levellers have always been a live band first and foremost, so if you like them you could do a lot worse than buy this. -Deuteronemu 90210 on a bit of string- |
| Method Man - Live From Sunset Strip Label: Music Video Distributors Format: DVD (Region 0, NTSC), HD-DVD  Unlike most of their contemporaries, who play up the “gang” aspect of “gangsta”, the Wu-Tang Clan,
while still retaining that element, always seem to be structured more
like a superhero team to me, like some crazy kung fu version of the X-Men. Even to the point of spinning off into their own solo titles, although these days Ghostface Killah
seems to have cornered the market in solo Wu stuff. Back when the
“first wave” of side-projects showed up, arguments raged as to which
was the best from a shortlist of three - GZA's Liquid Swords, Ol' Dirty Bastard's Return To The 36 Chambers - The Dirty Version or Method Man's Tical. Tical was generally the smoker's choice, and by the looks of this DVD Meth has lost none of his passion for the weed. Opening with a recorded intro about the individual's right to put whatever they want into their own body, he smokes a blunt and takes the stage, his familiar booming, lisping voice cruising its way through a selection of classics, both from his own solo back catalogue and the Wu's in general. As is often the case with live hip-hop on screen, there's a lot of audience call-and-response stuff which was probably a lot more fun if you were actually there, but the crowd seem to be lapping it up, and there's no denying Meth's stage presence. In many ways, MCing is probably closer to stand-up comedy than rock and roll when it comes to captivating an audience using nothing more than your words and your movements, and Meth is such a consummate professional at times you start wondering whether he actually does smoke as much dope as he'd have you believe - I'd be sat in the corner of the stage eating nachos, most likely, rather than being able to actually engage a crowd of people. Then you realise he almost certainly does, and is just VERY, VERY GOOD at it. It's often said that Wu shows of all kinds are something of a gamble. This is certainly a night when Meth (or maybe I should call him Mr Man) is on form, and makes it all seem so easy that you keep having to remind yourself just how complex and clever some of the guy's rhymes actually are. He may be the most stoned of the Clan, but he's a man fully in control of his faculties. While a lot of the late Ol' Dirty Bastard's appeal came from the way everything seemed to be just about to go horribly wrong but never quite did, Meth is at the other end of the scale, laid-back and focused, though still able to jump around and stagedive like a motherfucker. Also on the DVD is an interview with the Man himself in which he comes across as a smart, genial guy, and does a really interesting routine about the line between rhyming and acting, which takes me back rather to my earlier point about about MCing being akin to stand-up comedy. And he expounds at length about his love of comics, which is, from my point of view, enough to endear me to the guy forever. As the man himself would say, roll that shit, smoke that shit, light it. Only I'd add - and when you've done that, go buy the DVD. -Deuteronemu 90210 is smokin'- |
| Rev Hammer - Freeborn John Live Label: Freeborn John Theatre Company Format: CD+DVD (PAL)  Originally released in 1996, Freeborn John was Rev Hammer's
folk rock opera about the life of English radical “Freeborn” John
Lilburne, who fought in the Civil War and dedicated his life to liberty
and freedom. A natural subject for Hammer, who's carved out a niche of
his own by being a folk musician not afraid to cross the boundaries
into rockabilly or, less controversially perhaps, punk. A founder
member (with Joolz Denby and New Model Army's Justin Sullivan) of Red Sky Coven, he's always been an engaging live performer and his debut album Industrial Sound And Magic is regarded in many quarters (including my house) as a classic.Freeborn John gathered together such luminaries as Maddy Prior, Rory McLeod, The Levellers (of course) and Justin Sullivan and Dave Blomberg, but it was always assumed too difficult logistically to ever perform live. Until a couple of years ago, when the whole damn thing was staged at the Levellers' Beautiful Days festival, with all the performers present as well as the cocking English Civil War Society! Well, if a job's worth doing, etc... So now we get the live performance, and it's really quite something. The main advantage of being able to watch this on DVD is, of course, the snippets of information we get between songs, telling us the story as we go and providing a little more context for those of us who aren't quite as au fait with English history as we possibly should be (especially if, like me, you studied the fucking stuff). It's not only a great story, which undoubtedly lends itself to this kind of treatment, it's also a complex narrative structure Hammer uses, with a wide array of voices singing us through Lilburne's life, kind of like one of those novels told in newspaper clippings, letters and interviews. It works well here, giving the whole thing a pretty epic sweep; the only real drawback to this approach is that one's sometimes left feeling more time could have been spent on each of the characters, but that's testament to Hammer's storytelling skills more than anything else - each song demands empathy, and sometimes it's hard to move on. The music on show's pretty damn eclectic, too- one minute we have Hammer himself (as Lilburne) leading a rousing call to arms, the next a more traditionally murder-ballad style duet between Lilburne's wife and a lascivious Cavalier (played by Maddy Prior and the Levellers' Mark Chadwick). Then Rory McLeod comes on (as Vox Populi!), acting as both cheerleader and narrator to the strains of some downright dirty reggae with additional filthy sax parping. For me, the highlight is "Rumour And Rapture", on which Justin Sullivan adopts the voice of soldier Nehemiah Warton in a stomping illustration of all these historic events from the point of view of the men on the ground (parallels with modern events are, of course, very easy to draw and, one would think, or indeed expect, totally intentional) which sounds suspiciously like his own band; possibly because his voice is so distinctive, and also possibly because it's Dave Blomberg playing the guitar. This track on its own is worth the price of admission if you're a Sullivan fan, and that it fits in so snugly is proof, if (as Chris Morris would say) proof be need be, of the high quality of all the material on this album. The only track that really suffers without the visuals (other than those featuring battle re-enactments) is "Lilburne's Death Song", which goes on for several minutes after the song has actually finished. Watching the DVD, however, this makes far more sense, as it's the curtain call, and there's a fairly substantial cast to be thanked. And boy, do they get thanked. Other than sheer enjoyment of the music and spectacle on show, the main feeling I got from watching the thing was one of envy - it must have been absolutely fucking wicked to have seen this live (well, OK, I was also intensely relieved that it was by Rev, rather than MC, Hammer, but that's just me). Who knows? If enough of you buy this, the Rev may be persuaded to take his revolutionary show on the road. And that would indeed be radical. -Deuteronemu 90210, voice of the people- |
| Senser - Live At The Underworld
Label: Ignite Music Format: DVD+CD  I'm never really sure how to review live DVDs. This is partly because
I don't buy them often myself, except as records of gigs or tours I've
seen in person. But also it's because they don't really fit with my
music listening habits. Thankfully, although I wasn't at this gig, I
saw them around this time on the most recent reunion, so the DVD's a
bit of nostalgia for me for a gig that was itself a warm fuzzy
flashback to the Guildford indie clubs of my youth. If you're not
familiar with Senser, they were a radical homegrown equivalent to Rage
Against The Machine or Body Count, with leftie lyrics and a
twin-vocalist arrangement and dance-savvy sound owing something to
Pop Will Eat Itself.
Fast forward eleven years from the release of debut Stacked Up to this show in 2005, and several line-up changes have cycled Senser back to their original roster and restored their old agit-punk spirit. Rapper Heitham is still the angry little firebrand that appealed to the sixth-form rebel me back then, and the band belts them out with the ease of a bunch of mates who have had their differences, settled them and are now just doing what they love. The tracks that work the best these days are the funkier, rappier ones, with the out-and-out metal moments sounding a little hackneyed -- or is that just me? Interestingly there's no tracks at all from second album Asylum which had a significantly different line-up. Bad blood maybe. There's a few good tunes here that I didn't recognise, like "Formula Milk" from 2004's SCHEMAtic (which had totally passed me by) which sits very comfortably next to the classics like "States of Mind" and of course "Age of Panic" - which to be honest are the real highlights for me. Of the more guitar-driven moments, the standout track is the previously unreleased "Resistance Now", inspired by France's antagonism to the war in Iraq and sung partly in French. Interestingly, the DVD also comes with an audio CD of the same gig, a nice convenient touch. Would I recommend it as a purchase? Well, if you ever liked this kind of thing - and you're the sort of person that buys live DVDs - hell yeah. -Andrew Clegg- |
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Various - Goth Box Yet again, it's a Goth revival. Only a couple of weeks ago, one of the broadsheets began proclaiming black as the new black. The old black obviously not having been quite black enough. So here's Cleopatra, with a bunch of nostalgia and some newer stuff too. Companion to their immense Goth Box, the DVD opens promisingly enough with Switchblade Symphony's "Clown"- some Goth chicks wailing over some chugga-chugga guitar with a whiff of electronica... I kinda liked it. Truly, this compilation ranges from the sublime to the ridiculous... Alien Sex Fiend's classic "Ignore The Machine" rubs shoulders with Christian Death's "Romeo's Distress"... actually, scratch that... "Romeo's Distress" is one of the good Christian Death songs. Having so many bad ones to choose from, I'm kind of impressed at the selection. Elsewhere we get Red Lorry Yellow Lorry (incidentally the first band I ever saw live) doing "Spinning Round" and basically making a fairly good stab of sounding like the godlike Joy Division... good to have ambition, doncha know. Lords of the New Church get points just for looking as if they're as fucked as any self-respecting band should be. The main problem I have with this as a DVD is that most of the videos themselves aren't that great... some of the music (ASF in particular) is wonderful, but if you're gonna release a companion DVD, then videos that consist of grainy black-and-white live footage- good though they are in themselves- tend to run together when viewed in sequence for, like, an hour or something. Nosferatu's promo for "The Haunting" is okay- largely because it splices b/w live footage with bits from Murnau's classic movie, but it works pretty well. Sex Fiend get extra points on this one for having a video that displays a sense of humour - Nik and Mrs Fiend are clearly loving this, and don't care who knows it. A lot of the others come across as a little... how shall I say this... po-faced (and that's Po as in the Teletubbies, rather than Edgar Allen.) I dunno... all in all, if you like the bands, you'll like the compilation. It's a pretty good selection. I just think more could be done on the visual side when you're trying to appeal to a subculture which idealises the aesthetic... Just a thought. -Deuteronemu 90210 in his party dress- |
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Wu-Tang Clan - Disciples Of The 36 Chambers: Chapter 2 It's Wu, motherfuckers! Wu-Tang, motherfuckers! And indeed it is. A 34-track live DVD featuring all nine of the buggers (well, ten, what with Cappadonna an' all), all on stage at once!!! It's an oft-stated truism that the Wu-Tang live experience can be patchy, at best- members not turning up being the usual criticism, as witness the occasion at Brixton Academy in London when only a third of the Clan were present. But for this gig, filmed in San Bernadino earlier this year, they were there in full force. Yeah, Ol' Dirty Bastard included. The presence of nine top-quality rappers and showmen ensures that there is always something to watch, always something going on, whether it be ODB leering his leer or Method Man chucking his blunt into the crowd; but it must have made mixing the sound a bitch. But no, the levels are perfect, each allowed to bring his own take on the Wu world of guns, drugs, sex, religion and, of course, kung fu. Their newly-rediscovered sense of community doesn't stop them dipping into their various solo projects to make this a true Greatest Hits set, each seeming more than happy to play second (or seventh, or eighth) fiddle to their compadres, with the likes of "Duel Of The Iron Mic" and "Brooklyn Zoo" sitting happily next to other group efforts like "Clan In Da Front" and "Shame On Da Nigga". Personally, I've always found Genius/GZA to be the best Clan member, and "Liquid Swords" is definitely one of the highlights here, the multilayered vocal transformed here into a call-and-response beast of a terrace chant, Wu-banners aloft as the other guys bounce up and down chanting the backing. For such a bunch of rampant egos to occupy a stage at once the whole thing seems surprisingly effortless- "One Blood Under W" and "Wu-Tang Clan Ain't Nuthin' Ta Fuck Wit" flow as smoothly as the more solo-oriented numbers. The rap itself, you already know- whether doped-out or fucked-up, Hip-Hop's premier kung-fu superheroes spew out freewheeling, dizzying clutches of rhymes as, both individually and as a team, they explore the various facets of the complex mythology the Clan have built up around themselves. Staten Island/Shaolin, the Quran, the Bible (not to mention the obligatory bigging-up and ego-massaging)- all fly past in a dizzying stream-of-consciousness flow that can, as on vinyl, often take quite some decoding, while the RZA's crackly loops and kung-fu samples roll menacingly on behind. Above all, they look like they're having shitloads of fun. As do the crowd. One of those "wish you were there" shows. What else? Well, between each track you get various of the Clan discussing anything from how great the gig was to the history of the Wu-Tang sword style, their pride in Staten Island/Shaolin or the difficulties inherent in getting a paranoid ex-con like ODB out of the hotel room to turn up for a show. There're music promos from Masta Killah and RZA (whose offering is pretty fucking kung-fu-tastic) and a couple of (largely redundant as the consist of clips from the gig) TV spots, although there seemed to be a problem with the sound on these. Overall, though, this is a show that captures the chaotic, self-contradictory nature of the collective albums like a motherfucker. Clan In Da Front? Oh yeah. By a LONG way. -Deuteronemu 90210 dedicates this review to the late and much missed John Peel- |
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Go to Album Compilation or Singles reviews |
Blind Eye Sees All
is a true classic of the live music video genre, and now receives a
long-awaited DVD release via those thoroughly hardworking people at Music Video Distribution.
So why is it essential? Apart from featuring the world's most
wigged-out, demented and occasionally evilly silly band back in the
days when they were busy redefining Psychedelic music from the bottom
up, the film combines some of the best live footage of a gig around
with some lysrgically weird interviews pretty much guaranteed to leave
the viewer in head-scratching mode for years while simultaneously
offending any passing parental figures along the way.
The Levellers
are a bit like Marmite, really. You either love them or you can't
fucking stand them. I'm pretty much in the former camp, but, also like
Marmite, I can go for ages without them. Then one day I'll fancy some
toast, and there's nothing better. Sort of.
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