Everything this person has written for TUNETHEPROLETARIAT

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Ice water for blood.

Written by

The Smiths – Wonderful Woman

She was twenty-three, still bonded to youth, and suspicious of those with confidence, “How can anyone like themselves in this age of mirrors?” She’d choose to coyly pose at any bar’s back entrance, to move only for the sweetest of forays, that of a conga train with a man of vein wrapped ankles. She’d ask him home and in the morning he’d clear his throat and begin with that planned speech he said he’d deliver when surely sober. Something about thanks and fun and ‘gotta run’. Her morning spent binning evidence and without friends to induce a whimper.

[Amazon have the Sound of the Smiths on sale for £4.49; so that’s less than 10p per song (45 tracks available, too, as it’s the deluxe edition) – including the song above.]

Posted on June 20, 2010 - Tunes - 3 Comments » Share

Hook me up and throw me…

Written by

M.I.A. Lovalot (Removed at label request)

The album ‘/\/\/\Y/\’ by M.I.A..

The Message

An intro of modern paranoia and conspiracy theory; rhythmic keyboard replaces the reassurance of drum beats as alarm-like synth swirls throughout.  “… arm bone connected to the hand bone connected to the Internet connected to the Google connected to the government.”

Steppin Up

Industry inspired sound effects splatter this urban feel track; grimy and addictive.

XXXO

As close to clean pop as M.I.A. may ever get with a chorus of catchy techno glamour, but still that wound causing edge breathes and it won’t sit comfortably in your ears for too long.

Teqkilla

The record’s longest track, coming in at a time of just over six minutes, and it is sound chaos. You want to dance to it and you want the dance to end. Better is to come in the shape of…

Lovalot

Underground jungle beats provide the crowd for the surfer that is a plethora of words and rhymes of intrigue – and an Allah reference that may very easily pass your ear on first of fifth listen. “I’d fight – the ones – that fight me, because I won’t turn my cheek like I’m Ghandi.” Maybe Lovalot is to Maya what the National Front Disco is to Morrisey. Or maybe she’s stating her position; foot planted. Either way, it’s wrangled in controversy and is convincingly her greatest song yet.

Story To Be Told

All she ever wanted was her story to be told. Had this not been recorded prior to the event, it’s almost certain the suggestion would be that this song was a backlash directed at Lynn Hirschberg, and for the sake of fun we’ll pretend that’s the case. Again, instrumentally astounding.

It Takes A Muscle

“… to fall in love.” This is a delectable electro-hop reggae blend from /\/\/\Y/\; a vocal track offering the basic (and the profound) as whispers of electrified organ and resounding bass bask under same sun.

It Iz What It Iz

It Iz What It Iz is probably the most melodically moving track on the record. A composed effort of swirling synth and comforting vocals. It also ends with a baby, presumably Maya’s, crying over a looped toy-cow-like sample. Really.

Born Free

The introduction of the single-woman-marching-band on opening with the mind blowing indulgence of damaging beats and that clamorous and inducing surge of bass or guitar or both give us this record’s storm. A frenzied sound.

Meds And Feds

I don’t have any of the productions notes, but if this isn’t a Sleigh Bells collaboration then I’d be very surprised. The guitar riff is furious (as are the drums), flirtatious, frustrated and angry, in-the-know, and simply mesmerising with rage. This is an underground dance floor certainty.

Tell Me Why

The unexpectedly cool-aired sing along of the record, whose only exploration is to ponder varying vague frustrations of life and music and war and more.

Space

Not to use the song title as inspiration, but there are fantastic moments whereby space is allowed as an electronic beat halts for a moment’s pause before continuation and so the air is filled with beautiful, swaying vocals and bubbly, pumping beats. “There’s nothing more new on the news, as I float around in space or the sea.” Reminiscent of earlier M.I.A. work.

Open letter:

Maya,

Forgive me for obtaining this illegal leak of your record. I have no doubt you put tremendous effort in ensuring its level of excellence through the hard work of your craft. I will purchase a physical copy on day of release. I promise.

Be well,
Daniel.

Posted on June 16, 2010 - Reviews - 3 Comments » Share

I wish you’d change the station

Written by

Steve Miller Band – Song For Our Ancestors

They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest
Uncoffined – just as found:
His landmark is a kopje-crest
That breaks the veldt around;
And foreign constellations west
Each night above his mound.

Young Hodge the Drummer never knew –
Fresh from his Wessex home –
The meaning of the broad Karoo,
The Bush, the dusty loam,
And why uprose to nightly view
Strange stars amid the gloam.

Yet portion of that unknown plain
Will Hodge forever be;
His homely Northern breast and brain
Grow to some Southern tree,
And strange-eyed constellation reign
His stars eternally.
— Thomas Hardy

[Sail the seas as a Sailor.]

Posted on June 14, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

I left my urge in the icebox.

Written by

Brian Eno – Third Uncle

This shouldn’t sound so delectable, so garishly pretty. The bass is a persistent, knocking intrusion, the rhythmic rhyme of guitar comes courtesy of the wrist that rocked the whip, there are drums who flaunt their singular focus of speed, and then there’s the capture of song by a distorted (once birthed on poorly tuned Viola, surely) lead guitar; the stranglehold of sound. The vocal track of let’s-just-get-through-this pace and delivery does nothing to entice either – (“There are…,” “there was…,” “you…,” / “pork,” “Turks,” “leather,” “shoes.”) So why then does the end result, the union of each individual craze, produce an aural mosaic; how are we unexpectedly privy to something so awfully cool?

[Part some money and in return receive ‘Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy)’.]

Posted on June 11, 2010 - Tunes - 3 Comments » Share

Take them back to your red house.

Written by

Tom Waits – Ol’ 55

Isabella had an atlas. Three to be true: one under her bed which was new and still had shop stickers on its front, a second in her school-bag which was covered in brown paper, torn at the edges, and had her name and age (“7.5”) on the front, and the third she kept it in plastic covering, in a shoe box, four branches up on her favourite tree (the one with the tyre swing – the one nobody made her as it was just there when she moved in). Using her sisters green nail polish, the paint she’d use to brighten her feet, Isabella traced over anything black within this book, and this was to include every available border. She thought they were mistakes or stains, almost certainly they were intrusions. She was adamant they had tarnished and made chaotic what was intended to be a pretty picture. With some pink nail polish she’d paint bridges from one city or world to another – places she was sure needed such connection, including a deliberate, ruler inspired pink bridge from Guyana straight to Dakar. She preferred the pages with just the continents. They weren’t perfect, they were all different colours, so she still wasn’t sure how to make them all friends, but they at least had her golden stars.

[Buy album.]

Posted on June 8, 2010 - Tunes - 3 Comments » Share

When love came and told me I shouldn’t sleep

Written by

Rufus Wainwright – Bewitched

… horizontally speaking he’s at his very best.

For one of such emotion, Wainwright summons great composure from every touch of key and crackle of throat. It’s a song that would bring a crowd to calm and stillness, but for applause at songs end. I’m in love with the piano pumping blood, with the voice of such great bravery – you can only help but feel privileged to be part of this, to be a witness. A distinct voice, a wandering eye over diary entries, a spillage of heart-discovery for you and for me. One of few songs to bring me to tears.

… and long for the day when I’ll cling to him.

[Purchase the soundtrack – which includes the above piece – to one of the greatest films ever made here.]

Posted on June 5, 2010 - Tunes - 4 Comments » Share

Brakes, steering, and everything.

Written by

Mando Diao – Crystal

Darling, I risk too much with a basic truth.

Crystal sways like the slow moving dance floor of the afterlife, doesn’t it? I’ve never sat so comfortably with thoughts of that which is so answerless. It’s a pleasure, such as the head-out-the-window-of-a-moving-car with teeming eyes type feel. Dogs understand the basic pleasures.

Stop! In the name of love.

I know of a man who achieved inebriation on chapel wine – he’s happy now, but no longer drinking; he has a picture of Mother Theresa on his fridge. I know of another who forged the signature of a priest on Mass cards and pocketed the money of unsuspecting grievers and believers. These are the fun sinners, I imagine. Those who give God the giggles.

I know within my area there are those carrying convictions of sexual abuse, those who faked mental breakdown to ease a storm of rape accusation.

I know of homes that lure the ears of neighbours with male fist to spouse face quakes. Those who beat the pet rabbit with the aid of steel toecaps and hung it upon the door handle.

Beware, those people will pose themselves centre stage. When the priest looks over his glasses, know that these will be the first of the flock he sees. They represent us all – not that we asked for representation. Alter breathers.

The alter breathers.

They won’t be with angels.

[Purchase the limited edition  version (one with extra packing and wonderfulness and beats) that is ‘Give Me Fire’ here.]

Posted on June 1, 2010 - Tunes - 5 Comments » Share

… wouldn’t turn around and break it.

Written by

Cowboy Junkies – Sweet Jane

In New York, I Love You, was Shia even there? Was Shia indeed her; her inner turmoil expressing itself in the physical cripple that is Shia – the shedding of blood, the welling eyes, the forward steps of work and limp. This older woman, this woman so void of song, it’s the torn woman mirrored against the physicality a boy.

“You seem so sad. No one so young should be so sad.”

Is she speaking to her younger self? Is she persuading him to move away from such sadness or is this simply an exchange of shared notions between woman and boy?  A notion between those who know. And she no longer sings. Even the violets were sensationally dark and failed in richness of colour. The caged bird – without song. Shia, the boy, there’s nothing he can do now. A whispered ‘never’ when replaying this new awareness of her voice lacking song. A fall from atop the white hotel, the only reasonable move.

I do not like being told what to do. I do not like that my patience dies an early death each time it’s approached. I do not like to be asked how I am or what I do. I need to invest in a swing. What to do.

[Purchase the Trinity Session here.]

Posted on May 27, 2010 - Tunes - 2 Comments » Share

I’ve got the bombs to make you blow!

Written by

M.I.A. – Born Free

Her tragedy through the majesty of burns and worms.
The hustle of her soul.

Maybe she’s on to something, but will we listen? Mind blowing indulgence of damaging beats and that clamorous and inducing surge of bass or guitar or both. The greatest appeal – of many – to M.I.A. is the unshakable sensation that this package may not be a fraudulent one.

Allow the opening snare march to capture you. It’s screaming –
I WANT YOUR FUCKING ATTENTION.
SIT UP!
HEAR MATHANGI ARULPRAGASAM.

Then again, we may revert to type. We’ll tap our feet, sway our head, allowing for more time to half read books and proof read looks.

[Watch that ‘Born Free’ video here, download new single ‘XXXO’ (for free) here, and keep an eye out for the summer release of her third record, ‘/\/\/\Y/\‘ – that is not a typo.]

Posted on May 20, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

This is dedicated to those who like ducks.

Written by

Test Icicles – Circle, Square, Triangle

I’m not entirely sure as to how this song has lasted so long in my library. That’s a lie, I know exactly why; it’s because there’s melody. A rather elegant melody stretched over an undoubted blanket of chaos. It’s merry, there’s charm, and you can sense the fun. Each instrument is allowed the freedom to chase their own twists and beats and destiny and what shouldn’t form to become one surely does. It’s less poison, more the medicine that goes down with some sugar coated melody. Each scream is vast and aching, each bass trigger a thump and punch, and you hear that ghoul over the chorus, too, right?

Also, such a fantastically silly band name deserves your attention.

[Purchase the two track single for £1.38.]

Posted on May 11, 2010 - Tunes - 1 Comment » Share

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