Emeralds – What Happened

More Fact-age!

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No Fun Productions (2009)

I expected something different from Emeralds. The name suggests a music at once multi-faceted, brightly shimmering and hard to the core. But the image, of three neo-grunge dudes slumped anonymously over samplers and synths suggests something altogether sleazier; low-rent. Maybe a poor man’s Wolf Eyes. Or, dare we utter it, a bit like Sightings circa 2004?

Thankfully, the latter is not the case. Nor the former, though Wolf Eyes themselves are a fine combo. The album is split into five slices, two brief (in other words, under ten minutes) and three temporally solid entries.

‘Alive in the Sea of Information’ – a snip at eight minutes – opens What Happened in quite pleasant style. Jetson-futurist sparkles dance across the stereo image over black synth gurgle, while super-slow pitch-bend recalls the Plaid-in-molasses of ‘Kid A’.

Then a beast of a note invades the serenity, consuming all in its path. An uneasy equilibrium is reached, where neither side truly wins. It is at this point that a stretched-out human note joins the fray. The disembodied voice of god, taking no sides in this eternal struggle between light and shade.

This theme of ugly clashing with beautiful recurs throughout What Happened. ‘Damaged Kids’ spends an eternity bound in a chrysalis composed of oscillation and delay. Once it breaks through, it takes flight into the night on silken wings of effected guitar strings in a beautiful place out in the country. But beyond the Boards it treads, strumming, thrumming guitars bring the dread, turning out the stars like lights as their clattering volume increases.

After the brevity of ‘Up in the Air’, we get an electro take on Boris’ Flood, in the disarmingly named ‘Living Room’. Steady drip-drip guitar-picking slowly pools on the sonic floor as a fat synth-bass note lurks in the shadows. This fuzz tone builds and shapes, steadily, into an electronic scythe.

The scythe then slices clean through the skull of the mix. Pink flowers nervously blossom on the brain stem, their radiance refracting shards of light on the murky underworld of Kevin Drumm’s fantastic Imperial Distortion. The flowers flourish and tangle with the handle of the scythe, both competing and complementing in the kinetic melee. Then it ends, abruptly.

Final track ‘Disappearing Ink’ is a victory in motionless dynamics. Those pink flowers reverse-engineer into trees, while bees attempt to go about their nectar harvesting business even as amber hardens around their feet. This is music of paradox: slow waves of melody and texture swarm upward in spirals. Ghosts of song haunt, but are confined to one space, doomed to eternally repeat their one pattern. This is a restless catatonia, where it all happens while time stands still.

UFC 95

I have started a lot of these UFC write-ups without finishing them. So I will try to keep this relatively brief in the hope that it will actually get finished and stuck on the blog. This was a British show, in whose suitably unimpressive main event lightweight debutant Diego Sanchez bested perennial plucky loser Joe Stevenson. But before I talk about that, there were some other fights!

Oddly enough – maybe I’ve been sleeping on the UK scene – British fighters won more fights than I’m used to. High on the bill was Nottingham punk Dan Hardy, who beat Rory Markham quite comfortably in a kickboxing match.

This was quite satisfying, actually. They were playing up the whole ‘UK vs. America’ combative fiction and, while I generally loathe jingoism dressed up as patriotism, I hate Markham’s face even more. He looked like a constipated cross between Matt Hughes and Sid Justice, and wore some god-awful Tapout-branded stars-and-stripes t-shirt.

I’m sure that he’ll have been fighting for Gawd and the troops, too, so I’m happy Hardy’s win spared me that speech, if nothing else. For his part, though Hardy was guilty of banging on about how Britain is always in his heart, he was also charismatic, and seemed handy enough. Good for him, that’s what I say.

Another, less charismatic, Brit was Terry Etim. He was on the prelims, but I can see him featuring on the upper reaches of future UK cards after he made quick work of Brian Cobb, replacing the staphed-up Justin Buchholz. I’m not going to lie to you, a lot of the fights last night blended into one in my memory, with their brevity and knock-outs.

This one was right at the start of the second round, though, as Etim pegged Cobb right in the jaw with a roundhouse toe, before sticking a couple of punches in on the floor. Etim’s lanky build is made for that kind of win and, as long as he doesn’t come up against any particularly strong wrestlers, he should be fine. The ground and pound was perfunctory, but at least avoided the cries of ‘early stoppage’.

Such cries were all over the first televised match, in which welterweight hottie (you were all thinking it) Josh Koscheck was knocked out by otherwise unheralded Paulo Thiago. Pre-fight, Koscheck emphasised that if he is to convince as a title challenger, he certainly has to beat ‘this guy’.

For most of the fight’s three minute life, he was doing that. Thiago, a Brazilian jiu-jitsu specialist, had no way of getting the superior wrestler to the ground, and Koscheck was happy out-striking him. Commentator Joe Rogan mentioned that the Brazilian was going to have to tighten his game when Koscheck, committed to a lunging punch, missed. Thiago capitalised with a short uppercut that floored the American.

Thiago rushed in to finish the fight with strikes on the floor, but the referee waved him off. Koscheck complained. Well he would, wouldn’t he. Josh argued that he was perfectly compos mentis, which he may well have been at that point. When the ref stopped the fight, though, he had been dropped and was limply flailing like a lobster left upside down on the surface of the moon.

More than that, Koscheck has only won three of his last six matches. The loss to GSP was fair enough: everyone loses to GSP nowadays. I hadn’t seen the Thiago Alves fight (or UFC 90 at all), but Kos lost a decision there. Again, that’s sorta understandable, and nothing to necessarily keep a fighter out of the top five.

Getting floored by a skinny BJJ specialist, though, is exactly the kind of loss Koscheck doesn’t need right now. If he was in line for a title shot, he has now been shunted to the back. On a personal level, Koscheck is one of the few American wrestlers that I particularly like, so I hope this loss doesn’t send him flying off the roster.

Another BJJ expert brought the pain on the next match, though in more traditional – and impressive – fashion. Demian Maia faced off against veteran Team Quest member Chael Sonnen for middleweight bragging rights. I don’t like Sonnen. I should, but I love Paolo Filho, and I can’t like anyone who feuds with Filho. Especially when he took Filho’s undefeated status away. Especially when I got told about it without even getting to see the show.

So I was concerned about this one, as Sonnen is a very good fighter from one of the historically great MMA camps (whose alumni/heads have included Randy Couture, Dan Henderson, Matt Lindland and Evan Tanner). A good wrestler with strong striking, he’s a tough combination for anyone at the weight.

Maia, though, is no fool. He also has a history of beating Team Quest members. He has bested Ed Herman and Nate Quarry, as well as erstwhile TQ-killer Jason MacDonald. He choked them all out, too, earning submission-of-the-night honours for all bar the Quarry.

The fight was tense through its brief duration, each competitor respecting the skills of the other. Only halfway through the opening round, Maia under-hooked Sonnen’s arms, falling backward before flipping on top of Sonnen. As he landed in mount, Maia already trapped an arm: a triangle in reverse.

From here, Maia allowed Sonnen to roll on top, as the Brazilian closed up a perfect triangle choke. Sonnen had nowhere to go, Maia pulled the head down, and the tap was forthcoming. It was not just a win for the good guys, but an island of beautiful grappling in the UFC mire of messy striking.

Nate Marquardt is another really good fighter I don’t like. I’m not even sure why. Perhaps it’s because of the beating he gave Dean Lister, one of my favourites, two years ago. Old grudges die hard. A painfully effective wrestler with good strikes and sub defence, he is perfect for hammering out ground and pound stoppages. (Apart from when he’s on the receiving end, natch.)

His opponent, Wilson Gouveia, decided that Nate was good at lots of things, but ‘great at nothing’. That did Gouveia little good. After a tight first round, Marquardt began to tire out the Brazilian. He was out-striking, defending any submission attempts that came, and scoring gradual, sapping, damage.

Late in the final round, with Gouveia sucking in air, Marquardt went for the kill in a fashion I haven’t seen from him since the destruction of Lister. While many of his strikes missed, the combination of punches, spinning backfists and knees brought the fight to a dramatic end.

Judging by the Maia and Marquardt performances, their styles of fighting, and the opponents they vanquished on this card, the two seem destined to meet in the summer. The winner will take on seemingly unstoppable Anderson Silva, if he gets past… Thales Leites? While I would want Maia to tap Marquardt out in their theoretical match, I sadly foresee the American holding Maia down and pounding him out.

Diego Sanchez is an intriguing character. Winner at middleweight of the first Ultimate Fighter contest, he was debuting in London at 155lbs. He came out to ‘We Will Rock You’, while shouting ‘YES!’ every few seconds. It was hilarious and slightly scary. He has a history of swarming his opponents and battering them, though was getting increasingly found out at welterweight.

His opponent, Joe ‘Daddy’ Stevenson, apart from bearing one of the stupidest ring-names on the planet, was also a little terror. Good at wrestling, he would pound away until a chance for a guillotine choke reared its head. Har.

He challenged the mighty BJ Penn for the belt in January 2008. Penn, as he does to other lightweights, demolished Stevenson. While Joe seemed to wither instantly under a storm of punches, he actually ended up lasting four minutes before Penn choked him from behind.

This past November, Stevenson again lost in dramatic fashion. I must have seen his fight against lightweight terror Kenny Florian, but I don’t particularly remember it. Stevenson does, though, as it apparently led to a re-evaluation of his life and work ethic. Heavy stuff.

I have repressed the events of this alleged (by the UFC) ‘fight of the night’. They do like their FOTNs to go to decision, don’t they. Quite why this was better than, well, anything else on the card is beyond me. Joe Rogan, while commentating, perfectly articulated what it was about.

Stevenson was boxing Sanchez and, I might add, in mediocre fashion. Sanchez, meanwhile, was doing just enough to win. Peppering Stevenson with slightly more varied strikes, and sufficiently reputed a wrestler as to discourage takedown attempts, the fight was Sanchez’ to lose. Seems he learned something from his decision loss to Josh Koscheck at UFC 69.

This continued for fifteen minutes. The judges decided that Sanchez won. They were correct. I woke up. Sanchez congratulated Stevenson on his ‘improved stand-up’, which must be carny for ‘you were crap, but as winner, I have the luxury of tossing an empty compliment your way’. This was boring, mediocre stuff, and I cannot wait for them both to lose in their next matches.

I would imagine Sanchez will have a rematch with Florian, which should result in swift, bloody vengeance for K-Flo, who lost that inaugural TUF finale. Stevenson, if still employed, can face – and lose to – any of the impressive lightweight division. I was going to suggest Sean Sherk, but I wouldn’t want to put myself through the ordeal of watching that fifteen-minute dry-hump.

Touch and Go is having a shake-up

I know. I was supposed to write about the Asobi Seksu gig tonight, but new shit has come to light. Sorry. Touch and Go is having a shake-up, and I’m not a fan. For those who don’t know, here’s what T&G have to say:

It is with great sadness that we are reporting some major changes here at Touch and Go Records. Many of you may not be aware, but for nearly 2 decades, Touch and Go has provided manufacturing and distribution services for a select yet diverse group of other important independent record labels. Titles from these other labels populate the shelves of our warehouse alongside the titles on our own two labels, Touch and Go Records, and Quarterstick Records.

Unfortunately, as much as we love all of these labels, the current state of the economy has reached the point where we can no longer afford to continue this lesser known, yet important part of Touch and Go’s operations. Over the years, these labels have become part of our family, and it pains us to see them go. We wish them all the very best and we will be doing everything we can to help make the transition as easy as possible.

Touch and Go will be returning to its roots and focusing solely on being an independent record label. We’ll be busy for a few months working closely with the departing labels and scaling our company to an appropriate smaller size after their departure. It is the end of a grand chapter in Touch and Go’s history, but we also know that good things can come from new beginnings.

So they’re not stopping the rock or owt, but are very much scaling it down. When I first heard the news I selfishly thought ‘bloody hell, they were supposed to be re-releasing the Jesus Lizard albums this spring!’

I was somewhat relieved to learn they’d still be pushing back catalogue material, and re-releasing more old stuff. But that doesn’t reflect well on me. I was always the person telling the canon to stuff itself, and forget the alleged classics. And here I am, unmoved by the inexorable changing of one of the key music labels of the last two decades because at least I can still get the old stuff in. It’s pathetic, and I was wrong.

This is totally a bad thing to happen, because of the principle of it. It’s not about how many T&G albums I liked in the last five years. It’s the idea of such an independent stronghold being forced into compromise. It’s that dread ‘look back in anger’ concert mis-idea transferred into real life. It’s not one night only: it’s forever.

Maybe I’m over-reacting. We are all experiencing a financial lull at the minute, and the fact that T&G is scaling its operation down means it can still exist when next we enter a boom period. Whenever that is. It’s rather a shame, though, as the old musical adage hold that the most urgent music is created in those times of strife and society-wide ill health. We need an outlet.

And the saddest fact of all, for me, is that T&G is primarily scaling back its pressing and distribution arm. Again, selfishly, I don’t much care for Merge (signers of the excellent Neutral Milk Hotel and utterly bogus Arcade Fire). But what of Kill Rock Stars? OK, they’re apparently in the midst of affiliating with Secretly Canadian. T&G sorted out Drag City, which is my personal bummer.

Not only was DC the home of the legendary Royal Trux (more on them later), but they have since then housed Jim O’Rourke, Papa M, RTX, Weird War, Ghost, Joanna Newsom and tons more. Drag City, if I think about it, is probably my favourite label of the last five years. And in this Inspector Calls world in which we’re living, that’s what Touch and Go has done for me lately.

A scaled down T&G may well be lurking about, licking its wounds with the cockroaches in the post-credit crunch world, but will the labels affiliated with it? Will Atavist, Merge and DC survive? If not, who will be releasing the vital rock music of 2010? Of 2011? Who can be releasing it if relative powerhouses such as them are in danger of going under.

So I may indeed be getting my Jesus Lizard reissues this April. But at what cost?

The Bug packaging fetish

Apologies for the clear laziness of this post, but I have to get something pon de blog tonight, as I missed out last night. I have a good reason: I was at a gig. And I plan on getting it written up tomorrow night. Exciting, right? Anyway, I saw Asobi Seksu. They were good, though two universal throughsilver gig truths held:

(i) Nobody dances; and
(ii) Encores suck.

But explanations can wait til tomorrow. For now, we have the latest instalment in my never-ending throughsilver vinyl fetish series.




I finally, finally got hold of the Bug album from last year, after everyone was banging on about it. It sold out at source very quickly, which led to yours truly searching, in a panic, for other copies. None in shops or the usual internet places. Wait, sounds familiar…

That’s right. The same thing happened with the Earth album. Except The Bug was The Wire’s album of the year. That made it even harder, and I didn’t want to pay forty quid for it on Amazon. I thought I had it when I ordered it from Fa’ Ci’y. Sadly they pulled a Rough Trade, and didn’t actually have it, so on the wish list it went.

I figured that was the end of that chapter, until the aforementioned Ci’y sent me an e-mither about this item being back in stock. For 16 quid. But, I figured, if they have it then so must Ninja Tune, as it’ll have been re-pressed. And they did! Nice one. And, in the interest of fairness, even though they refused to combine my orders last week, I will also mention those fine people at Norman Records. Hey, they give me sweets.

It’s even been reduced in price at Amazon (but check the extortionate second hand price. £70? Who owned it previously?!) to an only slightly mad 22 quid.

Let this be a lesson to you: buy these records when the come out. Otherwise you may end up stuffed. I’m surprised I didn’t get this one on release. Rather than being a Wire stan, I was waiting for this quite eagerly. Lea and I, a couple of years ago, were mad on this bloke. Everything we heard of his was gold (you could say he had the ‘Midas’ touch. Har), and we bought up the 12″ singles with great excitement. But then the album came out and I wasn’t excited any more. I blame Lea.

And, as per usual, I’ve not listened to it yet. It’s on three discs, all right?! But I think this represents the last of the 2008 records that I needed to get. Especially as the Akimbo and Rye Wolves ones don’t seem to have even been pressed yet. Neurot! Aurora Borealis! Get it sorted! Both AuroraB and the Wolves themselves have assured me that their wax is on the way but, when I asked Southern about the Akimbo, they quite literally told me not to hold my breath.

That doesn’t bode well.