Ronald Straetemans is an ambitious man. On his first studio album proper as Tududuh, Storm Murale, the Utrecht singer-producer attempts to reconcile his indiepop-infected past with his love for all things electronic, psychedelic and cinematic. His choice of collaborators for this undertaking (a producer with a knack for creating noizy soundscapes, a clasically trained singer-pianist and a French rapper) reflects an omnivorous approach to appropriating musical influences into an artistic identity that's bordering on schizophrenia.
Straetemans has set himself up for a precarious juggle of stylistic elements. Synth washes, electro-tinged beats, murky bass and filtered vocals
constantly fight for their place in Tududuh's sonic spectrum. As a result the production of this album is quite dense, congested even. No easy listening to be found here. But with some attentive listening, the album reveals intruiging avenues and quite a few infectious melodies.
Consider "Motor Oil", the album's opening track. Despite the murky textures and electronic feel, the track emanates strong David Bowie vibes throughout. It's arty, but with a great awareness of pop music. "Echo of a Smile" is of the same variety, albeit with an undeniable 80s bassline and hedonist Gainsbourgian vocals. In these cases, the production seems to try and obscure the fact a good pop song is buried beneath the industrial rubble. "Not to Worry", on the other hand, is a fine example of how Straeteman's production and rapper Reazun's second guestspot lift the song to both epic and trippy proportions in ways that recall triphop's finest hour.
Like many ambitious producers, Straetemans still lacks the skill to turn his many flights of fancy into a coherent substance of consistent quality. It's something that will have to grow along the way. Do not misstake this for a mediocre record however. Storm Murale shows great promise. Even if this album does not fully satisfy from start to finish, it does leave you wondering in what directions Straetemans will steer his project next. Tududuh has the potential to keep listeners engaged over the course of several albums as they progress, digress and dig deeper into their own musical background and identity. It's a matter of sitting back and letting the narrative unfold itself.
>>>Watch the video for "Change Of Seasons", taken from Storm Murale, below<<<
With the 3-week mark behind me my perspective on life after digital suicide is becoming more and more clear to me. And it's no walk in the park. The realisation has sunk in that digital suicide basically means doing ALL of your social interaction the hard, direct way. Also, it was just one of the circumstances reinforcing my social isolation. I'm still struggling to 'get real' and reach out to people in order to get more out of my social life. No one action is decisive in this process. It's a long, slow march to social enlightenment and no single step is more significant than the other.
Dealing with people solely on a face-to-face or via 'direct media' (eq. phone, e-mail) means you don't talk to people unless you have something to say specifically to them. Facebook and Twitter might give a lot of people a window to spill nonsense into the digital realm, for a lot of others (myself included) it meant sharing what is on one's mind in a quick and easy matter. And while I certainly don't want to be engulfed within this realm the way I was before, in my absence the merits of social media have also become more clear to me.
On another note, I may have underestimated the actual connection these social media have to real life. While I may have opted out of using social media, most musicians are forced to work with it because it is the only way to reach out to their audience across the globe. Being forced to reconsider what seemed like a done deal just a few weeks ago because of my work is very frustrating. If I'm to involve myself in this industry beyond this point, I will have to either draw the line (and probably get less jobs) or meet the terms of my employers when it comes to social media. The fact that it took less than a month for an employer to request my presence in the social media sphere as it was deemed 'essential to my assignment', is proof that I'm not overstating the issue here.
But shouldn't we have a choice? Isn't the decision to pursue a presence in social media a personal one? I feel very strongly that I don't want it to be something that is dictated to me in my life. It almost seems as if we are, unwittingly, conforming to a system that discriminates those who choose not to be part of it. Are we aware that behind this harmless blue-and-white logo there is something very totalitarian at play here? One that leeches on people's ego, ambition and greed?
On the other hand, it's kind of nice that after years of building up my social network I'm finally able to harvest some income from my hard labour. In the current economy one can't really be idealist about the way one makes his money. The point is that to my mind, I'm a better employee without the social media thing. That counts for something, right?
So what am I to do? Forced into reconsidering my priorities while still being hell-bent on completing this little suicide mission is giving me a headache. Meanwhile, there are so many things in life that are more important, more worthy of my time and headspace.
If only there was a way of controlling social media without them controlling you... I've spoken to more than a few people about the possibilities of this, and everybody agrees there must be a way... they just don't know what it is. My own insights tell me that if you are able to maintain a strong frame in which to fit your own social media activities, with very clear goals you want to achieve and a very clear perspective on what is 'out of bounds', one's presence could be streamlined into something beneficial. It' very much like giving a rusty needle to a recovering heroin addict to play around with though...
It's been 2 weeks since I decided to give up on social media. I deleted my Facebook (ca. 1850 friends) and Twitter (900+ followers) in an attempt to clean up my life and especially the way I spend my time. I needed to get out of the house more, get 'real' with my social contacts and focus on the many challenges still facing me in the next few months. I wasn't doing well, my focus was all over the place and taking in a couple-hundred updates every day certainly usurps a lot of your brain. On top of that, my girlfriend had been complaining about lack of attention. I needed to make a move. And I did.
Throwing my carefully crafted social network out with the bath water may seem like an overstatement, and perhaps even a stupid idea considering most of my work has been in communication. But I'm trying to change some of my patterns, and involving myself in this digital community has been a persistent distraction for a long time now.
At first, I felt completely relieved having 'done the deed' (someone get me a cigarette). A burden was lifted from my shoulders and my girlfriend was quite pleased as well. Jasper 1 - Social Media 0. The next few days I was more focused, things were getting done... I was on top of the world. But as with all nasty habits, they don't take their defeat graciously. Up to now, I've caught myself randomly surfing to the facebook or twitter to be met with an empty login portal. It's like the routine to check those sites is completely imbedded in my subconscious. Creepy. Luckily I snap out if it easily, so there's no real risk of undoing all my work.1 But there's also a more serious contention to consider: the loss of an audience. As a (self-proclaimed) music journalist I've used social media to keep informed on what people are doing, to stay in touch with 'the scene' and to get the word out on my published articles as well as simply sharing tidbits with my audience.
While I haven't really found myself at a disadvantage when it comes to getting informed and I've made it a point to focus on my real-life interactions, I've essentially lost the connection with my audience. No more easy ways of sharing music and anecdotes, thoughts and jokes with a group of 'like' minded individuals.
2 I didn't anticipate this would be such a hard pill to swallow, considering that I wasn't sharing that many updates in the weeks leading up to my 'digital suicide'. But there's no disputing the fact that I'm suffering at the moment. Apparently, I don't write solely for my own enjoyment. Don't get me wrong: I'm no stranger to the fact that social media is a huge catalyst for a person's ego. And mine is jonesing for some thumbs up from the digital crowd.
It's utterly disappointing. Off course, I'm not caving in, but the fact that I'm really actually suffering from Facebook-withdrawal... what a silly thing! Not to mention the grave implications this puts on Facebook. More than ever, I see the danger of getting trapped inside social media's web. Thankfully, it has only added to my perseverance.
So what's the conclusion thus far?
1. I need to face my own ego, obviously. I need to be able to create meaning in what I do outside of 'the other'.
2. I need to be more creative when it comes to social interactions. In the end, real-life interactions will always trump whatever social media will throw at you, despite the extra effort.
3. I need to keep my long-term goals in mind. Get ahead with my education; spend more quality time with the missus; improve relationships with the people you hold dearest; be a more productive person in general. That's what I'm out to achieve. Maintenance of aim is always a difficult thing, but achieving one's goals is the ultimate pay off; only then can one decide the worth of one's sacrifices.
1 I should point out here that Facebook keeps your profile on file indefinitely, while Twitter erases your profile after four weeks. Especially in the case of FB, it's devious. Your 'old social life' is only a mouseclick away. That's how to get you. 2 In case you were wondering: Yes, I'm coining that.
So the not-so surprising news broke here in the Netherlands: Indie-maestros MOSS (@mosstheband) have lost their long-time bassist Jasper Verhulst to psych-pop Wunderkind Jacco Gardner. Moss have lost a steady band member before in 2010 when founding member Bob Gibson left the band to focus on his career as a graphic artist. So without blinking they've put an open call out for bass players who feel they're up to the challenge. And a challenge it is.
Filling Jasper Verhulst's shoes is nothing to be sniffed at. He's been a prolific bassplayer, singer and guitarist with Lola Kite, De Biet, Moss and now Jacco Gardner for 15 odd years if I'm counting correctly. In his long and distinguished career he has developed a style of play that is completely in sync with his love for all things 60s and 80s. Furthermore, he's a sound wizard with an all-encompassing understanding of music. Oh, and he has a awesome music collection. And you think silly old me was going to fit the bill as his replacement? No way. But, after some kind nominations came from my surroundings, it became a more tempting prospect. I should just try it.
Now, in advance there were a couple of challenges that I knew were going to hurt me:
1. Verhulst is a fine bassplayer, but what really sets him apart is his dexterity with a guitar pick. He never plays without one, and he can dish out these lightning fast riffs and grooves. Me on the other hand picked up a bass to get away from most of those dextrous activity. I feel pretty motorically challenged, especially compared to Verhulst.
2. Verhulst's main axe is this unique no-brand shortscale bass. It kind of looks and feels a bit like a Höfner 182 (which I happen to own), but it's really not. Combined with his expertly sorted out pedalboard and proper tube amplification, he makes a noise all his own. You can feel it's been honed for many years. It's really peculiar, I would even say you could pick it out of a line-up.
This is hard to overcome for any bass player, let alone someone whose obvious technical limitations -despite considering himself a pretty decent player, mind you- can be quite crippling. As such, I've always felt more comfortable writing my own lines. You can always challenge yourself, but in general, any player will try and play from his or her strengths.
Still, with hope in my heart and music on my mind I was going to put myself to the test: I was going to play through the last two Moss albums and see how far I got.
First up was Never Be Scared/Don't Be A Hero. It's mostly groovy indiepop with some afro-inspired rhythmic challenges strewn across this album. First two songs: Never Be Scared and the hit-song I Like The Chemistry pulls me deep into Moss territory from the get-go. The first one is a short, straightforward indie-stomper. Sorting out the bassline isn't too much of a problem. With I Like The Chemistry, Verhulst's propensity for writing high-pitched, fiddly bassriffs surfaces. It's hard work but I nail most of the song without too much fuck-ups. All those high-pitched settings are a little unnatural for me though. I'm more of a Alan Gevaert (dEUS) type player: heavy, flowing finger style play, with lots of low end. The next two songs aren't too hard, but then we arrive at one of the big hurdles: Angry Young Man. It may sound like a straightforward song to most, but it's pretty darn fast and dreadfully syncopated. And while I can hold my own for most of the individual licks, after two-thirds of the songs fatigue starts becoming a factor. I can't keep up the pace for the entire song without errors. And this is one of the hits, not to mention probably my favourite of this record. A setback.
dreadful, nasty bassline; beautiful song and video
The remainder of the record I keep it together; I Apologise (Dear Simon) works well, Don't Be A Hero and Silent Hill are easy enough and The Brick Moon actually feels very natural to play. On to the next one then.
Ornaments, unlike Never Be Scared... features a lot of synths and programming. This makes it harder to weed out the actual basslines played on bass. The roadbump comes early this time around: Spellbound, a fan favourite and strong live staple, features the same tricky lines as Angry Young Man. I hurt my wrist a little on the second try, but I keep my morale up by realising that this song could work very well without all Verhulst's guitar-pick frills. The next two are pretty easy: there's no distinguishable bass guitar in either Tiny Love or Almost A Year, and playing through the synth bass on the songs on my trusty Fender is a breeze. Give Love To The Ones You Love and Everything Died In Your Heart on the other hand feature bass, but are quite slow and steady. None of those nasty syncopations, jolly good.
pretty song, simple bassline, lovely
On to the the next ones. The Hunter and What You Want are both singles, so these are important bits. The first one features a lot of licks but is decidedly mid-tempo, so I can keep up. What You Want is another story altogether. It's another fast one, and it features the same problem I have with Spellbound and Angry Young Man. This time around I can play it without errors, but the sound is off. Both on the Höfner and the Fender I struggle with the dryness of the original recording. Obviously I haven't got a big tube amp to play with in my livingroom, but it's still disappointing. In the end, I feel more confident than when I started, if only a little. If I am to become the new Moss bassist, I will need to practice. HARD. I'll need a better bass amp (they might have a nice one lying around, perhaps, but you can never count on those things), and I should probably get my voice back in peak condition as well.
But more than anything, Moss has something to consider. Will they choose a player that can emulate Verhulst like clockwork, a session genius perhaps? Or will they go for something new, someone creative, with strengths of his own? Fellow Excelsior Recordings artist Alamo Race Track have had a revolving line-up for years. They took on Djurre de Haan, a singer-songwriter in his own right (as Awkward I) after the prolonged leave of absence of founding member David Corel. Two very different people with different ideas and different style of playing. And after De Haan left to focus on his own band, they took on Peter Akkerman, a producer and bassplayer with a real taste for the low frequencies (he's also a proficient double bass player). Again, very different from his predecessors.
As far as my own application is concerned: The jury is still out. I might try on the off-chance of the chemistry being there. But I'm well aware how many great bass players would jump at the chance to be part of this amazing group. I'm just hoping that whomever it'll be, they'll bring something new to the band. Moss have been around for over 10 years; it's as good a moment as any to take on some new influences. If they can find someone who does a great Jasper Verhulst emulation as well, all the better.
In the past year of so I've been taking my first few steps into electronic music territory as a DJ. This comprised mostly of research into various styles that appeal to me, listening to a truckload of DJ mixes (something I was only doing haphazardly before) and from that attempting to distill a style that suited me. In the next few months, I'll try and share a few insights into what I've been doing and what I'm up to moving forward with this project. After all, writing is still my strongpoint and I'm probably going to get more serious about the DJ thing if I commit to a few blogs. So, please see to it that I keep to my commitment.
Like any starting DJ, my first experiences at the turntables have come from playing small living room parties, basement clubs and the odd small festival. I've always been fond of small venues, whether for concerts or club nights. I know EDM is booming in the States with its rock hard brostep and techno sounds, but I can't connect with that at all. Then there's the big sweeping melodic techno/progressive house thing, which a lot of people in my immediate surroundings are in to. Now I do have a softspot for some of that stuff, but it's only really effective in big rooms. In my opinion, it's the panoramic quality of these great Guy J or Apparat tracks that makes them so wonderful, but it just won't come out on small soundsystems. The Big Room appeal is there, and some of it works great on headphones for instance, but it won't get people dancing at a party.
So, the operative word is 'intimacy', and it's the exact opposite of what a lot of people would consider a trend in 2012/2013. In the Netherlands, we've opened our biggest dedicated concert venue to date (the Ziggo Dome, cap. 17.000) opened last year. Skrillex got comfortable on his superstar-pedestal, and around him every noticeable popstar started looking for a wobble and the perfect drop. Intimacy is the antithesis of everything that is going down in commercial electronic music right now. It's gone missing in most commercial music output, replaced by awe-inspiring loudness and subsonic rumble. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm not going to a club to get blown away. Simply put, I want to feel something, I want the sweaty physicality of the dance floor. So that's what I'm looking for.
Next week, I'll share some of the main pointers towards intimacy I've found over the last year. For now, I'll just give you a quick example of what I'm talking about.
One of the first tracks I really came to enjoy playing way back in 2011 (those were my baby steps) was a track from globetrotting producer Matias Aguayo, Minimal. It's basically a 127 bpm samba track fused to these new wave guitar chords and then there's Aguayo's voice, in total deadpan mode, singing about his distaste for minimal (techno) music. He sings that 'these clubbers don't dance' and the 'music got no groove' and 'no balls'. Instead, he wants to dance to a more nocturnal, profound, sensual rhythm. I couldn't have said it better. On a whole, it's a curveball on any dancefloor. It's a devil to mix and Dutch audiences move far too stiff to do the track justice, but it's just pure joy playing this track.
On a cold friday evening I find myself suddenly on a train to Gouda. My destination is a return to the stage by one of my Dutch indie favorites: Most Unpleasant Men. Without a doubt one of the talented, most accomplished groups in the Netherlands. Their first studio effort Nothing Moves Slower was a play on both British and Scandinavian traditions, both dreamy and feisty, yet with a significant influence from Dutch literature and performance art ("kleinkunst") traditions. It was an ambitious collection of music by an obviously very accomplished bunch of musicians, that hadn't come to full fruition yet, and lacked production value. Most Unpleasant Men remained the domain of the underground, despite the amazing liveshow these true professionals brought to the stage.
I've enjoyed their record a lot in the past years and they were one of the key bands in the string of events I produced between 2008 and 2011. They instilled in me the passion for music that put the foundation under my activities in those years, and still motivates me to be part of (the) music (scene) in some way. You can imagine my excitement upon hearing they were releasing a second studio album proper, following the collection of scraps they've released in the past year or so. With a revised line-up and a new musical direction (more synths and beats and less Scandinavian indiefolksoul), I was more than keen to travel to Gouda to get an early peek at their new work-in-progress liveshow.
I was fortunate enough to receive a promotional copy of the album well in advance of the show, so had a good idea of what to expect. Most of my expectations were met (darker atmosphere, few songs from their back-catalogue, lots of added gear), but I was surprised by the vigour they presented on stage. This didn't look like a band that was mere minutes into its first try-out; they were well prepared for this show. The newbees in the band (drummer Nicky Hustinx, bassist Nana Effah-Bekoe and jack-of-all-trades Jacob van de Water) seem to fit in comfortably, while frontman Joram Tornij has certainly picked up some attitude from his artpunk side-projects. He seems more of a commanding presence than before, less the contempalting troubadour and more of a frontman befitting their brand new postpunk/synthpop vibes.
Unfortunately for Most Unpleasant Men, they missed out on Noorderslag somehow, but there is not a shred of doubt it would've been one of the standout performances last saturday.
Most Unpleasant Men are doing a small clubtour in support of their second eponymous album, and I invite you all to check them out. The album is still on the 3voor12 Luisterpaal Check them out after the jump and watch the teaser for their Tivoli performance this thursday (tix still available!) below:
