Rummaging through the
racks here at Sayer Towers unearths Circular
Motion, an early album by Kevin Figes. In fact, it was only the second
album on the esteemed Edition label and I bought it during the period when
Edition releases were a trickle rather than a flood and I bought it without
knowing anything about Figes because the Edition label was itself a guarantee
of quality. It is very good.
Eighteen years on, I see that Blomfield is still at his side, though Riaan Vosloo and Tim Giles from earlier albums have gone onto other things. Whitlam and Long are, however, both long time confreres and Beraha has been providing her vocals for the previous two Wallpaper Music albums.
So what are we to make of
WMIII? Much of it is melodic jazz with nods towards smoother fusion grooves but
Figes adds in some spikes to shock and surprise such as the ten second frenzied
freak out at the end of opener Fair
Weather.
It’s all a melange of
sounds stretching back to artists like Frank Zappa in the lyrics and tone,
creating atmosphere and ambience. It is provocative and challenging to the
listener but there are moments of entertainment and irony mixed in because, why
not? Some times it’s smooth enough to be a close cousin to yacht rock, made for
sunny Californian days, but cinematically speaking, it suggests David Lynch in
the way that all appears normal but Beraha’s vocals always remind that there is
an edge, always something on the other side of the door. Figes sliding, elusive
sax only reinforces the illusion.
Modern
Times is a plunge into a modern horror story as every device
with a chip in it stops working at the same time and as Beraha’s vocals become
increasingly frantic the drums present an ongoing building pressure whilst the
sax spirals furiously, taking away any remaining stability. Just to remove any
lingering hope that life might be better lived in nature, Into the Woods presents a Gothic horror amongst the trees. (See
also Figes’ short film Imogen
which is Gothic from the top of its head to the tip of its boots and features a
fluorescent fat bloke in the woods).
The hip swinging, finger
clicking February comes as some
relief until Blomfield’s keys take us on a ride into sci-fi whimsy. Figes sax
and Beraha’s teasing vocals keep things swinging with Whitlam and Long grooving
solidly at the back. Dorian Gray’s
Bathroom Cabinet offers another solid, steady groove owing more than a
little to ‘60s psychedelia whilst providing little information about the
titular cabinet. Figes offers a series of brief solos on the sax whilst Long
covers all the bases roaming far and wide around the regular, repetitive drum
rhythm. Same Time Next Week starts
out as a deep space exploration with clouds of cymbals, probing flute and
Beraha’s vocals deep voiced, yet floating, adding to the mystery until a couple
of minutes in, it swivels into a brighter day and a mellow shuffle; Beraha’s
vocals now flying, higher pitched and optimistic. It’s all, dare I say it,
quite lovely until, unexpectedly, Figes takes us back into some dark spaces
with Beraha, speaking in tongues while a murmuring sax and washes of keys
create a closed subterranean atmosphere.
Closer, Strangers on a Train is an unusual
beast. It sounds like a drama school exercise in confrontation between two
people, teasing and probing, the confrontation lying in the fact that both know
a lot of detail about each other’s private life. This mystery is backed by a
driving, grungy track, with the music mixed close together but all back beyond
the conversation with drums that thud, rather than crack.
This is a fun, exploratory
album and you never really have any idea what is coming next and ‘ideas’ is the
operative word. It’s imaginative, cinematic, escapist, anarchic and
mischievous, taking you through uncertainty and then into the comfort of the
familiar before jerking you back out again.
The album is out on 10th
April, though, I suspect that early copies will be available if you bob on down
to Bristol for the album launch gig on the 1st. Dave Sayer
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