|Just A Little Something To Get Us Back In The Swing Of Things After The All-Encompassing Glasto.
||[Jul. 4th, 2004|08:23 pm]
Its A Fanzine! Crikey!
|||||Ratatat - Seventeen Years||]|
Well, I think me and Luke are still just about recovering.
Full service will be resumed as soon as we catch up on several days sleep and find the energy to go out and buy some new records and stuff...
Until then, this is the Rachel Goswell review I did before Glasto started.
There was much anticipation leading to the moment Rachel Goswell's debut album plopped onto my doormat. Not least because of her connections in the past...co-founder of Slowdive - a band at the credible end of the short-lived but much-remembered 'shoe gazing' scene - and, more recently, a member of Mojave 3. She just has this voice that is inexplicably beautiful and haunting, but I can't help wonder how much production has aided this effect with her previous band-based work.
From an album I expected so much of, this is a frankly dire effort. She totally overdoes the 'twee' effect, tries to over-instrument her songs to divert attention from her lacklustre melodies and has obviously spent no time whatsoever on the lyrics. I actually cringed when I heard the line "Yeah you give me hope and that's just fine" thrown in over the top of, amongst other instruments, a harmonium, bangles and a caved Wurlitzer.
I would go as far as likening her to a Nina Nastasia who has completely forgotten how to write songs and in an attempt to rejuvenate her flailing career, has gone to the nearest city, bought The Corrs' guide to writing tepid ballad bollocks and structured her entire album around that.
The only redeemable feature would be the packaging, which is bright, flowery and colourful. It wants you to hug it. Then you get to the instrument credits, where (clearly trying to get extra twee points) she lists Mother Nature as provider of 'ambience' or 'background noise'. Please, someone enlighten me, if you write a shit song in the first stage of the whole song-writing process, how will planting the noise of Charing Cross Road or Chistlehurst caves make it any more listenable?!
This album is clearly meant to 'soothe' just like the free CDs you get with 'Relaxation Techniques Weekly', but the more I listen and think about it, the more infuriated I get.
Just, don't buy it. Maybe she'll have to eventually go and inhabit a cave somewhere. Far away. Miles from civilisation or a recording studio to bastardise.