The Originatah Be Back. Irie.

I created this blog so that I would be able to write smaller pieces more frequently than I could on the main site at estrogenius dot net.

yyyyyeah... OK, so it hasn't exactly worked out that way. But it's not MY fault that I keep finding interesting subjects that require in-depth analysis, or whatever it is that I do.

And dammit, here's another one!

Ari-Up is still best known as the frontwoman of the legendary all-girl Punk band, The Slits. If you don't know anything about Ari-Up or The Slits, you can check out the tribute I wrote here. It's pretty comprehensive, so maybe this won't have to be a huge post after all. Suffice it to say that Ari-Up started a groundbreaking band (which was largely ignored), then dropped out of society and went hardcore native -- literally living naked in the jungle of Belize -- before she regrouped and restarted her career in Jamaica, where she did for Dancehall what she had previously done for Rock.

During her Jamaican career, she performed under the name Medusa (or Madusa -- I've seen it reported both ways), a name that playfully referenced her remarkable, serpentine dreadlocks. Yeah, you heard me: A British-born white girl with dreads managed to make a name for herself in Jamaica. If you didn't already think that this chick had major huevos, then that should change your mind.

Apparently that wasn't a big enough challenge, because in the 90's she packed up and moved her family to Brooklyn, USA. There, she started a new band, Ari-Up and the True Warriors (a 9 on the "cool name" scale), and toured for a few years until finally, in the summer of 2005, she released a new album as Ari-Up called Dread More Dan Dead.




Since I never lived in Jamaica, Dread More Dan Dead was the first time I was able to hear and see (the CD has a bonus video) Ari-Up since her circa-1980's work with The Slits. And the verdict? Remarkable. I'm not just throwing that word out there, either. As soon as the first track, "Baby Mother", started spinning, there was Ari-Up's familiar voice, completely unchanged tonally, but all the better for the intervening years of experience. And if you've seen the pictures on the website and doubted whether they were of recent vintage, the music video for "Me Done" proves it: The woman is ageless. After thirty years of making music, with brief time-outs to have three children, Ari-Up still throws down as hard as she has ever done, and looks incredible doing it.

She has gone through some changes, of course. Ari-Up calls her genre "Punky Reggae", and indeed, she sings almost all of the songs in a completely authentic-sounding patois. I like Reggae music a lot, and there have been many female Reggae stars, but one thing you could never call the music was "progressive". Well, Ari-Up has smashed that door open with her feminist take on Reggae themes, and good for her, I say.

Ari-Up also produced the album, and I was pleasantly surprised by the overall sound. If you're at all comfortable with Reggae or Dancehall, then you will find this album very accessible; but I'm happy to report there is one harder Punk track on the album ("Allergic"), proof that Ari-Up can't abandon her roots completely.

Dread More Dan Deadwas a treat for a sentimental bastard like me, who was missing Ari-Up's sound and attitude in music. It was like a long-lost childhood friend who showed up at my door, and turned out to be Lara Croft. It turns out that not only has Ari-Up been keeping busy, she's positively thriving.

Girls on Film: I Sense a Rhythm Humming in a Frenzy

[Note: I'm going to give an album review at some point in this post, but I thought that it would be helpful to provide a little background first, so you'll know why I like it so much. In other words, I am no longer capable of writing a short, simple post.]

One of my favorite sayings is, "The future isn't what it used to be." Aside from the fact that it's one sentence that references three tenses, I like it because it describes how things that were once considered futuristic may not seem that way in the present. Some people feel that way about New Wave music, but I don't. Here's why I love New Wave: Because I'm old enough to remember what was on the radio before it existed.

Although it had its genesis earlier, I would say that New Wave hit critical mass in 1979. So, what was out there for the discerning radio listener to hear in 1979? Well, there was mainstream Rock -- the sound, style and hairdos of which had not changed one iota for about a decade. And then there was Disco, which was all about dancing and...well, that was it. Soul and R&B? Sorry, they were co-opted by Disco. Yes, Punk existed, but it didn't get airplay. So, if you didn't like Rock, and you didn't like Disco (which I didn't, even at my tender age), you were basically screwed.

And then, New Wave happened. It evolved from Punk, but it replaced that genre's outright fury with a more resigned cynicism. And unlike Punk, New Wave wasn't cynical about the present, it was cynical about the future; thus, the music sounded like it had come back through time, straight out of some dystopian Brave New World. In other words (and much to the relief of my sensitive ears), they turned down the fucking guitars. To me, it sounded like the future.

Don't get me wrong; my own tastes have evolved to where I now appreciate great guitar work, but at the time, the instrument was so obligatory in music that I resented it. It didn't help that nobody had done anything new with the electric guitar since Clapton and Page were in The Yardbirds. The instrument that defined Rock had grown stale, and so the genre that existed to fight the establishment had become the establishment. Of course, the best way to rebel against any establishment is to do things the exact opposite way.

Thus came New Wave, with its electronic instruments and lush melodies, fey European (or Euro-style) guys, and a large number of (shock horror) female vocalists. This was the Anti-Rock, and I was as happy to see it as Rockers were horrified. But the genius was, you could still dance to it, which allowed New Wave's cynical message to reach a wider audience than it might otherwise have done. (Of course, New Wave did employ guitars too; my sister was good friends with Berlin guitarist Ric Olsen, and he struck me as a nice, down-to-earth guy...at least, nicer than he had to be to a friend's kid brother.)

Many elements of New Wave made their way into mainstream Pop and remained there; but in the Alternative scene, synthesizers became extinct in 1991, as Grunge somehow became the sound of a generation. But now, synths are back in a big way, thanks to niche players like Ladytron and Miss Kittin, and breakthrough bands like The Killers.

Enter Girls on Film.


Girls on Film (clockwise from top left):
Metro, Rio, Kazhmir and Machine

Danceteria, the new CD from Florida band Girls on Film, may be the first genuine New Wave CD I've heard in...well, in I don't know how long. Unlike artists such as the aforementioned Ladytron, Girls on Film do not seem to be in it for the irony; it's obvious that they simply love the genre -- because if they didn't, then they wouldn't be so good at it. There's a fine line between tribute and send-up, and while Girls on Film have a great sense of humor, they are laughing with the material, not at it.

I don't always mention the look of a particular artist, but in the case of Girls on Film it's an absolute necessity, so let's get it out of the way: They nailed it. Ridiculous as this may sound, I could tell that I would like the album when I first saw the cover. But I knew that if they were that careful with the look, then they would be careful with the sound, too. Anyway, with their teased hair and Blade Runner - inspired makeup, Girls on Film look like a pastiche of classic 80's artists, but not like anyone in particular, because they incorporate some of their own style into the look. Still, one can easily picture them playing the prom band in an episode of Square Pegs, or shooting at the walls of heartache in Miami Vice. And then there are the band members' high-tech names -- what a beautiful touch.

As for the sound, I turned out to be right: They nailed that, too. Their influences are obvious, but diverse: Lene Lovich, Missing Persons, Berlin, and obviously Duran Duran, to name a few. Lead vocalist Rio gets the clipped New Wave phrasing just right, often incorporating the little yelps that Dale Bozzio and Cyndi Lauper liked to do (remember that Lauper started her career in the New Wave band Blue Angel before becoming a Pop star).

Musically, the band's sound is more "hardcore" New Wave. There are none of the sweeping melodies of, say, A Flock of Seagulls; this music is meant to be heard on a dancefloor under a blinding strobe light. And most gratifying (to me, at least) is that this band is actually a band: Four women who write and perform all of the sounds that you hear. I would especially like to single-out Metro for her keyboard and programing work. For some reason, most female-fronted New Wave bands had male keyboardists, and even the all-female bands usually left the sequencing to someone else. I don't know why that was (and is), but I'm happy to see Girls on Film buck the trend; and of course, Metro's keyboard work sounds as good as any of the men from the vintage era.

As for the rhythm section, I don't know whether Kazhmir uses a Steinberger bass or if Machine uses Simmons drums, but it would make the 80's circle complete if they do.

Thematically, the songs on Danceteria are as true to the period as the music is. 80's songs often involved technology, either overtly or metaphorically, and the first track, "Remote Control" follows that tradition, with the title referring to an emotionally manipulative lover. Other popular New Wave themes were paranoia of mega-corporations, paranoia of the mega-media, and paranoia of megatons (i.e., nuclear war). Here, those themes are explored in tracks like "Toxic Society" and "War on the Floor". Of course, there are also plenty of songs about relationships and sex, such as "Secretary", "Invisible Man" and "Love Robot".

For me, the most pleasant surprise on Danceteria was the lyrics. Throbbing, electronic dance songs don't necessarily need creative lyrics, but Girls on Film delivered them anyway. "War on the Floor" somehow manages to provide social commentary and boogie-down lyrics at the same time: Things are exploding, babe, security is gone / The fear is climbing is followed by the chorus, Let's fight this war on the dance floor. It shouldn't work at all, but it does.

"House on Fire" is a woman's philosophical take on losing everything she owns: Yeah, I said goodbye to the bills that I didn't pay / And I don't need a TV/VCR anyway / It was gone in the middle of a scorching flame. And "Love Robot" is perhaps the quintessential New Wave melding of sex and technology: So mechanic, so dynamic / You're a calculating fiend / So hypnotic, so robotic, my electronic dream.

I realize that there are plenty of people who hate the New Wave sound, and you may be one of them. But the thing about that is, you're wrong. Even if it accomplished nothing other than providing an alternative to Rock and Disco when one was desperately needed, New Wave would deserve to be celebrated. But thanks to its strong influence on modern bands who are picking up the torch, the New Wave sound is no longer trapped in its original era. I always thought that New Wave sounded like the future; and Girls on Film have just proved that the future is what it used to be.

Bjork does something weird: That's not news, that's weather!

Since it seems to be flying well under the radar, I thought I would mention that Bjork has a new album out. More specifically, it's the soundtrack album for Drawing Restraint 9, a new film by experimental filmmaker Matthew Barney. Barney is perhaps best know for his multi-part epic The Cremaster Cycle. I have not actually seen any of Barney's work, but from the sound of it, he makes Peter Greenaway look accessible. And this is Bjork's newest partner.

Yes, I know: Like her usual stuff wasn't weird enough?! Well, it never was to me, anyway.


Drawing Restraint 9 soundtrack album cover.

There is some good background information about the film Drawing Restraint 9 at Bjork's website; suffice it to say that it involves Japanese musical and mystical tradition, combined with Barney's apparently typical theme of human physical transformation.

As for the album...let's just say it's not for everyone. In fact, it's even less for everyone than Medulla (Bjork's previous, a capella album) was. I'm certain that seeing the film would add much to the experience of listening to the soundtrack. Unlike Selmasongs -- Bjork's soundtrack for the film Dancer in the Dark, in which her sublime accomplishments as a composer and actress were utterly squandered by the talentless, misogynistic hack director Lars Trier -- you can't follow the story of Drawing Restraint 9 by listening to the album. On the other hand, it is somewhat doubtful that you would be able to follow the story by watching the film, either; so it's a wash.

Even so, I appreciate how ambitious this work is. Yes, there is quite a bit of weirdness going on. But there are also two tracks with brass arrangements that have a familiar feel to them. These tracks are examples of powerful, smart scoring, and I say, watch out Phillip Glass -- Bjork is gunning for you.

Now that we've seen so much of her experimental side, I'd love to see Bjork change direction yet again, and...score an animated movie. Yes, I'm serious. Imagine the freedom that animation could give her, not just as a composer, but also as a vocalist and actress. She could easily create a work that is accessible, yet still thought-provoking. I know that if I had a major animation studio, I'd be knocking on her door right now! How 'bout it, global film industry?