24-02-11, 14:18
Como sabeis no soy muy de Pitchfork y tal, pero me han pasado este articulo y lo queria compartir con vosotros.
Es muy enriquecedor sobre lo que se entiende sobre indie-pop, y porque muchas mierdas qeu ahora dicen ser indies no lo seran en su triste existencia.
Twee as Fuck. The Story of Indie Pop
Es muy enriquecedor sobre lo que se entiende sobre indie-pop, y porque muchas mierdas qeu ahora dicen ser indies no lo seran en su triste existencia.
Twee as Fuck. The Story of Indie Pop
Cita:Indie pop is not just "indie" that is "pop." Not too many people realize this, or really care either way. But you can be sure indie pop's fans know it. They have their own names for themselves (popkids, popgeeks) and for the music they listen to (p!o!p, twee, anorak, C-86). They have their own canon of legendary bands (Tiger Trap, Talulah Gosh, Rocketship) and legendary labels (Sarah, Bus Stop, Summershine). They have their own pop stars, with who they're mostly on a first-name basis: Stephen and Aggi, Cathy and Amelia, Jen and Rose, Bret and Heather and Calvin. They've had their own zines (Chickfactor), websites (twee.net), mailing lists (the Indie pop List), aesthetics (like being TWEE AS FUCK), festivals (the International Pop Underground), iconography (hand drawings of kittens), fashion accessories (barrettes, cardigans, t-shirts with kittens on them, and t-shirts reading TWEE AS FUCK), and in-jokes (Tullycraft songs and the aforementioned TWEE AS FUCK)-- in short, their own culture. They're some of the only people in the world who remember that Kurt Cobain used to kind of be one of them, and they've been wildly generous about the moments where one of their private enthusiasms-- like, say, Belle and Sebastian-- bubbles up into the wider world of indie music.
Cita:A massive, three-page article about indie pop: Why now?
Two reasons. The first is that today's indie audience has managed to embrace plenty of indie pop-styled bands without ever thinking of them in those terms. There's Belle and Sebastian, who in another era probably would have released their albums on Sarah Records, or Postcard, or 53rd and 3rd. There are the Lucksmiths, an Australian band whose fans should really, really listen to some Honeybunch. There are the Ladybug Transistor, with a style that's something like psychedelic twee, and the Clientele, whose dreamy-soft moods have the same personal feel as old-English indie pop. There are the Magnetic Fields, with their popscene roots, and there's the Postal Service-- whose Jimmy Tamborello got his start with the twee-ish synth combo Figurine.
And from there stems the second reason: Today's indie world looks to be shaping up for the same kind of split that makes twee essential. Today's "indie" world is remarkably professional; its notable acts, like the Arcade Fire, are the sort that would once have released their records on major labels. At the same time, we've seen the rise of something analogous to the hardcore bands of the 80s. It's the underground world of post-hardcore noise where things are really happening, and along with that has come an old schism-- between the tough punks and the drama geeks-- with Pitchfork's own Tom Breihan worrying about the Decemberists being "indie bedwetter dweebs" in his Village Voice blog. Chances of some woman recording a series of weird, girly four-track songs in her bedroom and offering them up to the world like a beautiful private gift, the way Liz Phair once did: slim.
Cita:The Television Personalities: "This Angry Silence" (1981)
It's all the grand, triumphant moves of rock-- from the guitar windmills to the desperation in the lyrics-- as played by kids who don't care whether they're pulling them off or not. It's also one of the clearest routes into the subtle trick at the heart of a lot of indie pop: the way the sound of trying and "failing" can be a success all on its own. They're not rocking in the conventional sense-- they sound way too schoolboy-wimpy for that-- but they're rocking nonetheless, and it sounds all the more grand and human for it.
Look for: And Don't the Kids Just Love It
Beat Happening: "Indian Summer" (198; "Bewitched" (198
It's just four notes and some barely there drums, but "Indian Summer" is magnificent, and haunting enough that a surprising number of indie bands have wound up covering it. (Dean Wareham, of Galaxie 500 and Luna, called it "indie's 'Knocking on Heaven's Door'-- everybody's done it.") The imagery is all pastoral beauty-- "breakfast in cemetery, boy tasting wild cherry"-- but there's a sense of impending loss in there that's kind of devastating: When Calvin goes hushed and sings "we will never change," it's like he's trying to make the summer last forever.
"Bewitched", on the other hand, makes the hard vibes explicit. This is one of those Cramps-styled songs, where three-note guitar blares, drums bang, and Calvin bellows as snotty as possible-- "I've got a crush on you, I've got a crush on you." In "Our Secret", one of the band's earliest tracks, you can hear all sides of the band in a fragile drone that captures some deeply affecting sense of childhood's purity. It's also more clever and complicated than it seems; notice how Calvin's voice plays the role of a bass guitar, and makes the chords change?
Look for: Jamboree and Black Candy-- or You Turn Me On, in which this "childish" band grows up into something lush and dreamy.
Talulah Gosh: "Beatnik Boy" (1986); "My Boy Says" (1987)
Talulah Gosh's short career wound its way from blasts of bouncing girl-group joy (like on "My Boy Says") to bratty punk ("Break Your Face"), but "Beatnik Boy" was their most idiosyncratically twee track-- like pop recovered from some subtly-altered version of the fifties, where minimalist English girl-groups and cutesy rockabilly guitar were the norm. The format of the title-- and that of Heavenly songs like "Lemonhead Boy" and "Cool Guitar Boy"-- would become a staple of American indie pop.
Look for: Backwash, the band's entire collected works.
Honeybunch: "Mine Your Own Business" (1991); "My Contribution to the Greenhouse Effect" (1991)
This stuff is "pop" indeed-- casual guitar strum, perky organ hums, and elegant, all-hook vocal melodies. The surprising thing is that there's nothing the least bit cute about it-- just a laid-back summer-night comfort. "Mine Your Own Business" may be their best single, and "My Contribution to the Greenhouse Effect" is a cleverly tuned breakup lyric-- all those greenhouse gases are coming from a backyard bonfire of an ex's gifts and letters. If anything in America makes that connection between indie pop and old country music, it's this band-- this time it's Patsy Cline for New England grad students.
Look for: Time Trials, the band's entire collected works.
Magnetic Fields: "100,000 Fireflies" (1995)
Now that Stephin Merritt-- and Honeybunch drummer Claudia Gonson-- have become court jesters for the NPR set, it's easy to forget how odd and idiosyncratic their early singles were. That's a shame, because this song may still be the band's best-- and the ultimate staple of indie mixtapes. There's beauty in the bouncing rhythm and chiming synths, and there's beauty in the high, choirgirl quaver of Susan Anway's voice, but the freshest bit was (of course) Merritt's lyric. The first lines make you sit up: "I have a mandolin/ I play it all night long/ It makes me want to kill myself." This was everything you wanted from indie pop-- something beautiful and strange, popping up seemingly out of nowhere.
Look for: Distant Plastic Trees, or the 6th's Wasps' Nest, which brings together guest vocalists from across the pop underground.
Tiger Trap: "Puzzle Pieces" (198
Now here's the feminine principle in indie pop: one of the girliest bands ever, and all without ever sounding the least bit meek or unsure. "Puzzle Pieces" stomps along at superfast punk speed, but its true-love lyric and crisp, girlish vocals are all glitter and construction-paper hearts. On a song like "My Broken Heart", the band still blazes, and singer Rose Melberg sings sweet while still sounding absolutely assured, almost deadly.
Look for: Tiger Trap, on K Records-- highly recommended.
Heavenly: "C Is the Heavenly Option" (1992); "Hearts and Crosses" (1993); "Three Star Compartment" (1994)
"C Is the Heavenly Option" isn't Heavenly's best song, but it's a key indie pop moment. This, after all, is a duet between the genre's biggest heartthrobs-- frontwoman Amelia Fletcher and Beat Happening's Calvin Johnson, one of the group's chief supporters, teaming up to dispense romantic advice. If there's any defining indie pop experience, it's popkid couples driving around in their cars and singing along with the respective parts. More substantial is "Hearts and Crosses", the centerpiece of the band's "kind of a concept record about date rape." For a few minutes, it seems like another sharp-and-bouncy song about crushes. But then comes the bridge, in which the crush rapes the girl in question. Followed by a peppy keyboard solo-- probably the most crushing peppy-keyboard-solo in the history of recorded music. On "Three Star Compartment", the group's interlocking melodies and girl-group bounce have honed themselves to perfection.
Look for: Le Jardin de Heavenly, Decline and Fall of Heavenly, and the P.U.N.K. Girl EP-- this is the core of indie pop right here.
The Field Mice: "Emma's House" (198
Two guys, a drum machine, and probably the best single ever released on Sarah Records. Like Honeybunch or Australia's Go-Betweens, the Field Mice could make all-pop simplicity seem like the only thing worth doing. It's hard to pin down exactly what subtle trick they used to accomplish this, but they managed. Singer Robert Wratten doesn't just have a direct line into the schoolboy heart-- if you don't have one, he just might manage to install it for you.
Look for: Snowball, reissued with accompanying singles.
Rocketship: "You and Your New Boyfriend" (1994); "I Love You Like the Way that I Used to Do" (1996)
Some indie pop bands were amateurish; Dustin Reske's Rocketship was not. The best of Reske's productions are crisp, clear, and ambitious, bringing sweet pop bounce together with Stereolab-style organ drone and My Bloody Valentine ambience. "You and Your New Boyfriend" has the melodies and lyrics of prime-era indie pop ("you both ride your bikes past my house every day, sun or rain"), but its fizzy organ lines and sparkling production are as spaced-out as indie's progressives. "I Love You like the Way that I Used to Do" is even more ambitious, with quick, ultra-bright guitar chords racing around a world of trebly washes.
Look for: A Certain Smile, a Certain Sadness-- highly recommended; "Hey Hey Girl".
The Softies: "Hello Rain" (1995)
After Tiger Trap stopped making its rambling girl-punk, singer Rose Melberg moved on to one of the most wonderfully girly duos of the decade: the Softies played exactly the way the name implied. "Hello Rain", the lead track on their first album, is all about mood, full of deep reverb and teary, wistful sighs. It's another good litmus test for the indie pop project: if you don't find this incredibly pretty, the popkids can say, you're either a horrible person or you're trying too hard to be cool.
Look for: It's Love
Glo-Worm: "Tilt-a-Whirl" (1994)
Brushed drums, acoustic guitar, and deep-reverb vocal harmonies from Pam Berry. This is pretty, homespun pop of the best kind; ultra-pretty recording coexists wonderfully with an intimate, living-room vibe.
Look for: Glimmer, maybe.
Barcelona: "I've got the Password to your Shell Account" (1999)
This is total geek, obviously: a bratty synth-pop tune with a c:\\-prompt threat for a wandering boyfriend. In the same vein: Figurine's lovely "IMpossible", a dancepop duet in which a long-distance relationship dissolves over instant message, and one of few break-up songs where the break-up in question actually happens, during the bridge.
Look for: March Records' Moshi Moshi: Pop International Style, a two-disc collection spanning the late-nineties' shiny-sounding global twee scene-- including Barcelona and Figurine (USA), Club 8 and Cinnamon and Ray Wonder (Sweden), Spring and Le Mans (Spain), and 800 Cherries (Japan).
Pastels: "Different Drum" (1990); "Yoga" (1994); "Mandarin" (1995)
The biggest part of the Pastels' endless style came directly from their less-than-perfect voices: both Stephen Pastel and Aggi Wright drawled their way around their notes in a lazy, swooning way that's incredibly charming. (Nothing has ever been more indie pop than having boy and girl singers at the same time.) Their anorak-slacker cover of "Different Drum" is all droopy style, and as they moved along toward a much more sophisticated pop future, they learned to use that quality to beautiful effect-- on tracks like "Mandarin", or their droning gem "Yoga", those swoops and drawls are integral parts of the songs themselves.
Look for: Truck Train Tractor collects those anorak-style singles, but Mobile Safari is the real jewel. By Illumination, the band had gotten beyond "indie" and into an elegant pop dream.
Cub: "Tell Me Now" (Daniel Johnston cover, 1996)
The Vancouver trio Cub managed to encapsulate everything that bugged people about indie pop-- self-satisfied girliness, willful amateurism, and dippy, juvenile lyrics (see "My Chinchilla"). So who better for them to cover than Daniel Johnston, a mentally troubled singer whose crude, homemade recordings had an equally off-kilter notion of "pop?" Coming from this band, Johnston's lyrics still sound less ridiculous and more just ridiculously honest: "If this really is love / then let's get it on."
Look for: Betti-Cola.
Tullycraft: "Pop Songs Your New Boyfriend's Too Stupid to Know About" (1995)
Not that I've ever understood why some people go crazy for Tullycraft, but you can't talk about indie pop without talking about this song-- a big, name-dropping celebration of the in-crowd. Over some typically joyous indie-rock moves, singer Sean Tollefson lets loose his bratty yelp to pick on his girl's new U2-loving boyfriend and ask what's happened to her indie pop loves: Heavenly, Nothing Painted Blue, Lois, and...Neutral Milk Hotel.
Look for: The Long Secret, a compilation from Harriet Records. (Both the label's name and the compilation's are Harriet-the-Spy-related.)
Wolfie: "Hey It's Finally Yay" (199
Twee, yeah, but then again: These four kids play like they think they're out-rocking AC/DC-- with cheapy instruments in a mid-Illinois garage. They're also just bursting with joy, from the boy/girl vocals (chirpy deadpan versus bratty drawl) to the keyboard leads and tambourine-shaking buildups. Something in the combination of carefree melody, garage-pure setup, and hyper-energetic "rock"-- along with this combo's sharp songwriting skills-- make this stuff a revelation, for whatever tiny portion of listeners "gets" it.
Look for: Awful Mess Mystery, one of-- if you ask me-- the best records of the nineties.
Black Tambourine: "Thow Aggi off the Bridge" (1991)
Not the band's best moment, by a long shot-- that would be "For Ex-Lovers Only"-- but this is a prime example of an indie pop staple: the crush song. Even better, the crush here is on Stephen McRobbie of the Pastels-- and the simple, happy request, wrapped up in a blast of jangling noise, is to toss bandmate Aggi Wright into the nearest river.
Look for: The Complete Recordings, all ten songs of it.
The Hit Parade: Hitomi (1991)
I first heard this one on a mixtape from Laura Watling, who'd go on to win the Indie pop List's 2001 "Most Fancied Indie pop Personality" award. For much of their career, the Hit Parade would draw lines between indie pop and dance music-- much the same way Saint Etienne would. With this song, though, the vibe drifted way over toward Sarah Records territory: acoustic guitars winding like Blueboy over synths and drum machine, and a fresh, bedroomy pop vibe that's all sappy smiles.
Look for: The Sound of the Hit Parade
Blueboy: "Boys Don't Matter" (1994)
Blueboy named themselves after both an Orange Juice song and a gay skin mag, and their music had the same adult-cosmopolitan vibe as Honeybunch. Nylon-stringed guitar, string arrangements, lilting vocals-- this stuff wasn't "cute," just sleepy-beautiful. It also featured some deceptive lyrics: people assumed this was more weepy boy-girl stuff, even when Keith Girdler was singing about homophobia or prostitution.
Look for: If Wishes Were Horses.
Velocity Girl: "Pop Loser" (1993)
Velocity Girl were the most successful of America's indie pop shoegazers-- and on their second album, they dropped the noise and shot for full-on pop complexity. Listening to this song, from their first album, you might have guessed it would happen: this wasn't just a slice of pop scenery, but a loving, bouncy joke on the scene. The lyrics here could be coming from the ultimate college-radio popgeek, nurturing a bumbling crush: "All day long I guess I've had the same thought/ Wanted to show you all the records I bought/ Waited at the bus stop and I stared in disgust/ But then I realized you don't ride the same bus."
Look for: Copacetic for melodic shoegazer buzz, Simpatico for classically styled near-British pop.
The Vaselines: "Molly's Lips" (198
It's one of the best-known songs on this list, thanks to Nirvana's cover of it. The original, though, is a surprising combination of twee style and, well, something else: the jangling backing and Frances McKee's high, choirgirl vocals are vintage C-86 indie, but Eugene Kelly's deadpan drone under the "chorus" gives it a jolt of danger. The sound is a perfect example of Scotland's shambly style-- and the strange, subtle charm that can make a rickety indie production seem like a better idea than a well-made production.
Look for: The Way of the Vaselines, a terrific compilation of this band's shambling punk.
Small Factory: "If You Hurt Me" (1993)
Just like the original wave of punk, indie pop had a local, just-between-fans vibe that managed to make certain songs feel a lot more wonderful than they had much right to be. Such was the case for this one, from Rhode Island indie underdogs Small Factory. It came as part of Simple Machines' year-long singles club, paired with a Tsunami song for the August edition: a coy little lovesong that unravels into a terrific joke.
Look for: Industrial Evolution, a compilation of singles. Even better, Simple Machines' celebratory Working Holiday compilation-- all the records from that singles club, along with a disc of live performances from the festival that capped the project off.
The Sea Urchins: "Pristine Christine" (1987)
It was the first single ever released on Sarah Records, and the sound is appropriate: This is a perfect example of what that "pure, perfect pop" agenda revolved around. Nothing particularly wimpy here-- just a jangly, infinitely 60s pop song, somewhere between the Byrds and the Monkees, performed in chipper, upbeat style.
Look for: Stardust.
Boyracer: "In Love" (Marine Girls cover, 2002)
End your tape with this one. Boyracer's ultra-noisy pop buzz was a favorite of the indie pop set, but don't tell frontman Stewart Anderson that: the last time I tried to recommend his work to Belle and Sebastian fans, he wrote to let me know he felt more affinity with old Australian punk. Which is right, and audible. Then again, this 2002 track is a cover of the early English indie primitivists the Marine Girls (including future Everything but the Girl singer Tracy Thorn), revved up into a joyfully bratty blast of guitar buzz. It's appropriate, for a bitter, sarcastic song about an ex: "I hear you're getting along without me/ I hear you're in love."
Look for: We are Made of the Same Wood-- or, for more of the high-energy pop blast on this song, 2002's To Get a Better Hold You've Got to Loosen Yr Grip.
"Ahora soy peor"
