The campsite sits quietly as the small fire crackles and pops under the darkest of night skies. “Gather round young children, for I have a tale to tell,” an old man says, beckoning those nearby as he sits perched on the edge of an old tree stump at the fire’s edge. Twisted, uncomfortable yet wholly reliable, his eyes rest glazed, filled with yellows and blacks as he stares into the darkness waiting for his audience to take their seats. “Have I ever told you about Sparrow & The Workshop?” The small faces look up in wonder, too scared to answer. “No? My, my, my… well you’re in for a treat… Pulled together from corners both far and wide, Sparrow & The Workshop are a band of merry music makers who’ve learnt from the past and gifted to the future, less a sound and more a rally cry for all those out there who know what is good and pure about music: Honesty, brutality, wonder and love. For with Crystals Fall, a collection of their travels, Sparrow & The Workshop have taken us on a wondrously dark and mysterious journey that explores every possible corner of the mind.” “Is it scary?” one of the captivated children enquires nervously. “Only if you’re scared of life.” This may seem like an odd way to start an album review but so vivid is the imagery Sparrow & The Workshop conjure up on this, their debut album, that it will consume your mind, and well I just had to share where it sent ours. Crystals Fall feels like a collection of old campfire stories told to captivated ears desperate to learn from someone who’s lived a life worth writing about. Clinically executed yet utterly compelling, it feels as fresh as the first flower in Spring and at the same time provides a masterclass in taking one’s influences - in this case ranging from Sixteen Horsepower to The National - and creating something new and interesting. And what you get is an album that deserves to be listened to from start to finish, without interruption, just like the good old days. And in an age where the MP3 is king, the equal parts Scot, Welsh and American 3-piece strike a blow to the heart in the best possible way. One that leaves this writer with a piece of music that he will only ever want to listen to as a whole. There are some definite highlights, the rousing ‘Blame It On Me’ shows how far and loud the band are willing to push things while the immediately intimate ‘The Ghosts’ accounts for the other end of the spectrum with Jill O’Sullivan’s gorgeous vocals sure to leave you with a stomach full of butterflies. Yet these songs are merely the sum of a far greater part… the album and with Crystals Fall, Sparrow & The Workshop have served up a front runner for debut album of the year. 9/10 This review was originally edited and published by Ragged Words.
You’ve seen Almost Famous right? Well you know that scene where the giddy fanboy finally meets his heroes Led Zeppelin and gets them to sign his t-shirt? Oh, and the one where our lead protagonist, the ever wide-eyed and musically infatuated* William Miller, loses his virginity to a group of gaggling “Band Aids”? And not forgetting the one where Humble Pie’s manager gambles over the future tour direction of Band Aid leader Penny Lane during a game of poker? Of course you do, they’re all great scenes in a great movie, but what is interesting is they all** took place at a single location; The Continental Hyatt House, or “Riot House” as it was affectionately referred to by those who stayed there. And its place in Rock History will forever be reserved.
Oh Riot House, if your walls could talk my ears would be full of stories. Stories that retell shocking and beautiful moments; like the time a fish was used, hopefully not against its wishes, as a sexual aid in a game of “how far will you go”. Or the time John Bonham, high on everything including life, rode his motorcycle through your halls. And the time when Keith Moon took it upon himself to create the Rock & Roll cliché of throwing a hotel television out of your hotel window by doing exactly that and throwing a television out of one of your windows. I could go on and on retelling stores of the Riot House but I wont. You should know all of this by now but if you don’t, look it up. It seems to have been a wondrous place, a utopia for Rock & Roll to be as care free and dangerous as it should be.
So what, or where, is 2010’s “Riot House”… well, you may want to look away as I reveal what many believe [or at least its owners would have you believe] is the place of choice for bands to stay and run riot without remorse in 2010. And that place is Ibiza Rocks.
Now I’m not sure you’re familiar with this place but Ibiza Rocks, funnily enough, is based in Ibiza, a place usually reserved for the beat-adoring dance music fan. But with a little PR spin and a ton of money, this has now become a holiday home for the indie set. A hotel AND music venue, everything you’d ever need to create a new era in Rock & Roll history right?
Well, from what I hear, it’s not exactly the “riot” the Hyatt house was. It caters to the “popular indie” set, more your Kasabians than your Grizzly Bears, and though be right in thinking that with this ilk being the “new” Rock & Roll that the stories would suitably follow suit. Sadly, from what I hear that is not the case. What happened, are there no rock stars anymore?
Everything that gets recounted to me from friends who’ve been and from what I read online is that Ibiza Rocks reveal’s more about bands’ sunbathing habits than their desire to explore their sexual pisciapturist side. Maybe that’s the work of good PR people, they don’t want any great, deviant stories to be leaked to the masses, or maybe bands are just happier to sit by the pool and let time drip away than add to the great Rock & Roll myth by throwing a television out of their window. Who knows.
What I do know is that Ibiza Rocks has The Courteeners, The Kooks and Calvin Harris lined up for 2010 and with that in mind, I very much doubt that any great stories will be added to the great Rock & Roll tale any time soon.
Oh well, there will always be the Riot House and it’s place in the annals of history will never be lost… now where did I put that fish?
* = we were all this way once, right?
** = I think so anyway. Though at times I feel like a touring musician when reflecting on this movie as I’ve seen it so many times, all the places kind of blend into one.
I wonder how far evolved I am as a human being given that one of my most anticipated releases of 2010 comes from the Deftones. I mean, this is a band I obsessed over as an 18 year old, acne ridden grunger doing all he could to rebel against the system*.
Yet here I stand, a 27 year old musical aficionado**, earphones firmly in ears, arms banging away on my air-drum kit to an album by a band I should clearly be over by now. But as soon as Diamond Eyes starts spinning, I can’t help but lose myself. The 18 year old greebo inside me just won’t stop screaming with joy.
Yet despite my obvious position as a Deftones Super Fan, I must admit that I initially didn’t expect much from Diamond Eyes. What with bassist Chi Cheng still under constant medical observation after a near fatal car crash in 2008 and a scrapped album under their belts, all signs pointed to an album that would be largely forgotten, albeit forgiven. But Diamond Eyes couldn’t be further from that. The opening run from ‘Diamond Eyes’, through ‘Royal’ and into ‘CMND/CNTRL’, clearly states the bands intentions for 2010. They’re as angry, obtuse and clinically brutal as ever, yet somehow they’re also quite beautiful too. This certainly isn’t a band mailing it in, that much I can assure you of.
Standing somewhere between White Pony and Deftones, Diamond Eyes packs a pretty mean punch at times, but it’s the moment’s when it stands back to admire the damage it’s done that it really shines. With the hypnotically-angular ‘Prince’ and the spacious ‘Sextape’ the band prove that despite an obvious love for the heavy, it’s the more tender moments that display a band who’ve never been more comfortable with themselves.
Yes at times Diamond Eyes may not tread much new ground as one would’ve hoped, I for one enjoyed their shoe-gaze direction on Saturday Night Wrist and expected them to further swim in that ocean of sound, but I guess that’s the beauty of being a Deftones fan. You’re never quite sure just what’s next. It’s not just Radiohead fans who are privy to such feelings.
And though Diamond Eyes may not earn the Deftones many new fans, it will definately keep those still in the fold very happy as yet again they deliver an album thats solid and consistent without losing sight of the subtle.
The Deftones continue to challenge both their fans and the very genre they find themselves within and it’s for this reason alone that I can happily admit, without remorse, that I’m 27 years old and I still listen to the Deftones… a lot. I just wish I had such good excuses for the occasional spin that Taproot album of mine gets.
9/10
* = read; not washing my face every day hence the acne.
** = self proclaimed.
08/01/2010: I LOVE THE SMELL OF VINYL IN THE MORNING!
This is my old system set-up. I have since moved house and can’t remember exactly what it entailed beyond a shitty record player (mine, hand-me-down), a pretty decent amp (Landlords) and a pair of okay-ish speakers (also, Landlords).
