Playing bass with Moss

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. 

Entwistle: A search for intimacy (introduction)

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. 

The return of Most Unpleasant Men

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:


17 januari Tivoli Utrecht (album release)
8 februari Rotown De Unie Rotterdam
26 februari Paradiso Amsterdam
27 februari Luxor Live Arnhem

Thoughts on a Felabration

When I first received notice of a Felabration taking place in Amsterdam last year, celebrating the life and work of the near-mythical Nigerian musician Fela Kuti (1938-1997), I couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. As a musicology student a few years back, I was already quite taken by his music and background, so I should have been pumped to be among a great bunch of likeminded Fela-enthusiasts, right? Far from it, I felt inexplicably detached from the event and I stayed at home. With the 2nd annual edition coming up, I keep pondering the distance between myself and the 2nd annual Felabration. Here are some of my loose, cutting-corners, never-mind-the-bollocks thoughts on the  subject:

To my mind, the key question to ask here is: What do we really celebrate when we celebrate Fela’s life and works? When we ‘bring The Shine (Fela’s infamous Lagos nightclub and residence) to Mokum (Amsterdam)’ as the organisers of next month’s glorious Felabration 2 say? 

Well, there is a lot to celebrate: Fela’s works as a freedom fighter and humanitarian in the face of persecution put him near the top of the list of inspiring leaders in post-colonial Africa. The creation of ‘his’ Afrobeat music was a groundbreaking effort in the synthesis of Westernised African heritage such as jazz and funk and the indigenous Yoruba and Highlife musical styles which left its mark on musicians and audiences across the African continent and well beyond.

Even as his music spread across the globe, Kuti retained an air of exoticism and mystery about him. His values and manners were untouched by the Western world throughout his career. He took his immense retinue of musicians, caretakers and wives (he had twenty-seven (!)) with him wherever he went, putting great pressure on accomodation and hospitality with their homegrown habits. Part of the myth of Fela Kuti is the fact that above all, he remained true to his (Nigerian) Yoruba roots despite the lure of Western civilisation. Het is a symbol for many, be it as the rebel, the musician or the human rights activist, and as such, it’s not hard to see what Fela Kuti could be celebrated for.



I say could, because to my mind the intentions of this celebration are not completely obvious. I would like to propose here that an event such as Felabration, for all its good intentions and sincere convictions, is as much a celebration of the tradition that was created around Afrobeat (or African music in general, for that matter) in Amsterdam (and Western Europe in general) as it is about what actually went on at the Kalakuta Republic, the ‘Shrine’ the organisers speak of.

With the rise of World Music as a commercialy interesting phenomenon for Western audiences in the late 80s, a process was put in motion that can only be explained as a massive displacement of meaning in these musics. Large record labels were eager to compile and distribute large amounts of indigenous musics from around the globe (especially from South-America, Africa and the Carribean) to  cater to an increasing Western audience. This audience warmed its ears to music that was a little bit different, a little more exotic than what they were used to. This is to this date the way most average listerners approach these musics, whether it’s Buena Vista Social Club, Amadou & Mariam, Youssou N’dour, or Fela Kuti: as music that pleases them because of it’s exotic properties. rhythm, instrumentation or language: similar to our own, but not quite the same.

It’s for the same reason that Middle-Eastern and some Asian musics are far less popular in the Western World - music that is created in a different tonal system is still a little far-fetched for the average listeners. I will not go into a lengthy discussion on music and cultural imperialism in colonialist Africa (did I hear a snore?), but it is a fact that music from regions that we’ve thought our own tonal systems is far more appealing to Western audiences than the music from regions in the world that were less touched by the cultural endeavours of our ancestors. I’m not trying to pass judgement here, just putting it out there.

Now as most musicologists learn in their first year of studies, music is in most cases nót just pleasing to the ear. Music has many layers of meaning embedded in itself. We talk not  just of the soundbytes itself when we talk about music; we talk about the culture it was created in, we talk about traditions and rituals that music is embedded in, we talk about the places and the means by which we experience it, we talk about the values of the musicians and the way the audience responds to it. It is at this point Western listeners are still struggling to keep up with the plot, especially when World Music is concerned.

It’s hard to tell exactly why we care so little for the circumstances that originate the music we all listen to. Especially in recent years, music has become such a commodity that, admittedly, there is just too much music going on to bother with the background story. But then again, most people would not make an effort to put together an official celebration for  a single artist (fanclub meetings don’t count). When the idea sparks to celebrate such a singularity, such an otherworldly phenomenon (especially to Western audiences) as Fela Kuti, than He must be part of the cultural 1% (which is ironic, Fela being the archetyplal frontrunner for the 1970s version of “the 99 percent”) one of the happy few we do care hear about, to immerse ourselves in the life and times of this Great Musician.

Is it, really? One of the prime progenitors of these festivities is Jungle By Night, a very young and hot Amsterdam-born-and-bred 9-piece that takes a fair few cues from Fela and Afrobeat. But, as they’ve stated so many types for fear of stereotyping, they’re “not just an Afrobeat band”. On their first album, they take influences from jazz to hiphop to Indonesian Gamelan, but still they slyly position themselves as leaders of a Dutch Afrobeat movement. They’ve als commented many times that they do not share Fela’s political views or put the same kind of social commentary in their own musical output. The event is further managed by their label and their manager.

Given, it’s hard to express any social commentary as an instrumental ensemble. And anyone should be awarded for making their own music, instead of just copying existing music. You could be forgiven for thinking they’re the ‘evolution of Afrobeat’ as mr. Tony Allen (the long-time backbone of Kuti’s band Egypt 80) once said, cause you wouldn’t be wrong. But when you go to such great lengths to celebrate the creator for Afrobeat, you’d better do it for the right reasons.


So I dare to ask: Will Felabration 2 really be a night to remember Fela for his contributions to the world? A memorial as much as a celebration? I’ll grant the organisation the benefit of the doubt. But of the audience I’m not so sure. I have a hard time believing that on October 12th 1500 people will indeed pay tribute to Fela Kuti. Or that people will even be aware that there’s more to this music than the way it makes you move as they walk into the Paradiso. Some of the most inspiring stories in modern music probably never even reached most of the fans of Jungle By Night, despite their best efforts.

Well, all I can say is, there’s more to this event than an awesome, sweaty party at the Paradiso. And it’s not up to Jungle By Night or the organisers or even Tony Allen to live up to the true potential of this event. It’s up to you, whether you’re going or not, to know about Fela Kuti, and not just his showtunes. 

His Wikipedia page is quite the pageturner. So get acquainted. Here’s the link to the event

You're welcome,

J.

Where have the times gone?

So, months have passed and my blog untouched. It's... sickening, I know. So much talent and so little productivity... yes, you've guessed it: You have landed back on planet Jasper for some cynical blablablabla.

Assessing my current situation, a few things come to mind. I'm having a slightly sore throat. I'm listening to, ocassionally watching Boilerroom.tv, where Scuba and Jimmy Edgar of Hotflush Recordings fame are playing some deephouse cuts from -wait for it- a boilerroom. The obviousness of it all (I mean, they've so clearly put the pipes on the ceiling in the frame for all to see) makes me a little queezy, but it could also be the mindnight oil I'm burning.

As we speak, Scuba (whom I deeply respect) is rolling a fag in the background, while Jimmy (a wee bit of loathing, there) is doing the hip deephouse-with-a-touch-of-90's-R&B thing. There are two vinyl players (untouched so far) and Pioneer CDJ's hooked up to a Pioneer mixer - pretty much the club standard. Being a digital wuss myself, I always feel a slight envy whenever I see these guys actually beatmatch and -mix their cd's. Having the discipline and patience to actually beatmatch by hand is something that is becoming obsolete, as there is no necessity for this skill: any and all DJ software will take of that for you. The ability to do this is still considered an art though, meaning that in order to be taken seriously as a DJ (regardless of one's ambition in this direction), one must master the beatmatch-by-hand. Frustating.

Tomorrow, I will have a stab at becoming a serious DJ. Ill advised and obviously doomed to fail for my lack of beatmatching-skills, I feel compelled to attempt my first try. In the past few months, I've been slowly gathering some tracks that I feel strongly about, and have gotten comfortable with the DJ software. I've also managed to demistify the range of elusive (sub)genres that comprises the spectre of electronic music. No small feat considering the many tiny changes could propel a tune into a completely different category. Also, there seems to be an outbreak of Peter Pan-syndrom (or early stages of senility) among electronic music fans. Basically meaning that most DJ's and fans forget or negate any tracks over 18 months and under 15 years of age. So 90's shit house is okay, but some great minimal track from "06 has been banished to some place far from collective consciousness. I'm tempted to say 'swallowed in a big K-hole', but it seems Ketamine as a whole has gone to that same place. Yes, this scene is odd.

Well, Jimmy Edgar has bored me enough to make my eyes heavy. I'll let you get on with your lives, for now. Perhaps I'll share the experience of making my very first mixtape somewhere near the end of the week.

Ta-ta,

Entwistle (my DJ moniker. Like it?)

Writer's Update #1

Hi Folks!

So, here's the breakdown of all the writings I've forgotten to post on here in te past 2 weeks:

March 7: The BAMM Argument: OK GO

Every so often my editor Chris Davies and I take a punt at cracking a controversial subject by taking oppossites sides in the conflict. I always enjoy writing these pieces, not only for my love of the form (polemics for everybody, hurray!) but also because it seems to really trigger both Chris and me to really give it our best. I guess we're competitive that way, even though I can't really speak for Chris off course.

This week, following pieces on Justice (pro) and Coldplay (con), I had the pleasure of thrashing OK GO. Read it over at the BAMM.tv BLOG

March 7, 8: 5 Days Off for OOR.nl

For the second year in a row I've been dispatched to review one of Amsterdam's finest electronic festivals, 5 Days Off, held annually at Melkweg and Paradiso. I was present for the opening two days, witnessing sets from the likes of Sleigh Bells, The Field, SBTRKT, Koreless, Falty DL, Kutmah, Krampfhaft, The Gaslampkiller, Jameszoo and Dorian Concept. Fun times, and great music for the most part, even if it wasn't quite as exhilirating as the past year.

Read it at OOR.nl: Day 1 (The Field, SBTRKT ao) and Day 2 (Kutmah, GLK ao)

All in Dutch (sorry foreign amigos!)

I co-wrote these pieces with Harm Groustra (@fresh77); pictures by Remco Brinkhuis (@remcobrinkhuis) and Bart Heemskerk (@bart_heemskerk)

The Field - pic by Remco Brinkhuis

March 10, 11: Festival FabrIQ for OOR.nl

There was a lot more happening that week, so over the weekend I attended the third annual Festival FabrIQ. It was my 2nd year in a row covering the festival, again for OOR. I'm getting fond of building these traditions now I've been in the field of music journalism for a while.

In the three years of its existence, a very nice bunch of indie and folk artists have passed through Den Bosch for FabrIQ. Last year was a blast, with surprising performances from Nils Frahm, SUUNS, Sleep Party People and Cloud Nothings. Looking back I feel this edition was slightly more on the folk side than indie, but a great two day event nonetheless.

Read about it here: Day 1 (Kim Janssen, Idiot Wind, TRIPPP) Day 2 (Damien Jurado, Cass McCombs, Xiu Xiu, Chad Vangaalen ao)

pics, again by the incredible Remco Brinkhuis (@remcobrinkhuis)

Damien Jurado, pic by Remco

That's all folks!

Bahnhof

It’s an odd sensation: It’s Friday, 6pm, I’m inside Amsterdam Central Station. I’m running on 3 hours of sleep and a stern hangover, a full day of meetings behind me. But, as regulations stipulate, I’m not allowed to travel on my Discount Railway Pass until 6.30. Seeing my financial condition of late, I’d better wait it out. I’m munching on a bag of Fritos for lack of better things to do and, dead tired as I am, manage to wander a bit around the station. All around me people are moving faster than me, rushing to get home. Where was I going again? It takes me a while to process te question.

My legs feel awfully mushy. I notice I’m kind of pivotting on the spot. I pass the HEMA, I can smell the rookworst, and continue to wander into a bookstore. I stare blankly at the cover of Economist magazine, it speaks of a recovery of the financial crisis. I feel it’s only just begun for me, what with budget cuts and all. It’s hard being a man of culture these days. Being a cultured man in general is already a challenge these days. Having no money only adds to that. Nickelback is bruising my ears as I gaze at the station’s multimedia store. I wonder if I’d be able to describe the emptyness I’m feeling, once I jot it all down. Probably not.

On the platform, I see the Train à Grande Vitesse destination Paris. There’s a bunch of clowns already gathered at the bar of the restauration car. I guess they felt like getting right down to business. Who can blame ‘em? Travel and drink are a wholesome marriage. I wish I could have bought that Economist. A verse pops into my head, its from a Nits song, suits my state of mind. Getting away from it all seems a joy like no other when you’re down and out. Still, even in harsh times like these with just a handful of halfbaked ideas and the intention to dig out your soul, there’s silver lining.

Konichiwa! My guardian angel thank god is never far. I’m dead poor but full of joy when she’s around. I don’t deserve it, and can’t afford it, but I’m committed to trying my darnest and straightening out my shit. Even though no-one and no-thing will ever actually make me an above average man, inspiration strikes and suddenly I’m there: I’m that happy kid again.

I ponder these predicaments and blessings while everything around me is continuously in transit. Going one place, then the other. Then a train comes and takes me home.

Adieu, adieu sweet Bahnhof
My train of thought is leaving...