Scratching in the Dirt: Peter Gabriel’s Scratch My Back

Peter Gabriel Scratch My Back

 

As a Peter Gabriel fan for over two decades, it’s dif­fi­cult to admit that I find myself strug­gling to appre­ci­ate his first new album in years.

There have always been three core things to love about Gabriel’s work: his lit­er­ate song­writ­ing, metic­u­lous sound­scapes, and emo­tion­ally expres­sive voice. Behind the creep­ily organic album art, Scratch My Back is an exper­i­ment in sub­trac­tion. It finds Gabriel cov­er­ing other artists’ songs, accom­pa­nied only by solo piano or orches­tra (the oddly defen­sive mar­ket­ing pitch “No drums, no gui­tars” says it all). That leaves only the voice. Soul­ful and grav­elly even as a teenage cofounder of Gen­e­sis in 1967, Gabriel’s voice should be more than enough to jus­tify any­thing, so my pat reduc­tion here is not totally fair. Gabriel and John Met­calfe clearly labored over these orches­tral arrange­ments, but I miss the com­plex son­ics of the rock and world music instru­men­ta­tion that has char­ac­ter­ized most of his music for over 40 years.

Gabriel did very nearly the oppo­site a decade ago, when his high-concept mil­len­nium project Ovo made a point of cast­ing Paul Buchanan and The Cocteau Twins’ Eliz­a­beth Fraser to sing his songs. The most recent col­lec­tion of his own songs was 2002’s Up, fol­lowed in 2009 by the col­lab­o­ra­tive project Big Blue Ball. Casual fans of his music might not be aware that Gabriel is an active human­i­tar­ian, par­tic­u­larly as cofounder of Wit­ness and The Elders, so the tem­po­ral gap between his musi­cal ven­tures is not entirely explained by chronic pro­cras­ti­na­tion (although he would prob­a­bly be the first to admit he’s eas­ily dis­tracted). Gabriel has stated that he hopes to work on more song-swap projects in the future, but first plans to work on some of his own songs. How long until he pre­pares a new album over which he can claim sole authorship?

Peter Gabriel Scratch My Back

Gabriel told the New York Times:

I was try­ing to make a grown-up record […] This is treat­ing peo­ple as if they can han­dle dif­fi­cult music and words. Not that I’ve courted the low­est com­mon denom­i­na­tor before, but there’s a play­ful­ness and child­ish­ness in some of my older work that isn’t present on this record.”

He is pre­sum­ably refer­ring to the media satire of “Games With­out Fron­tiers” and “The Barry Williams Show”, the randy sex romps “Sledge­ham­mer” and “Kiss That Frog”, and the vaude­ville silli­ness of “Excuse Me” and “Big Time”. Gabriel is one of the few musi­cians that I first lis­tened to as a teenager, but whose music has aged with me. So I would have expected myself to appre­ci­ate an album of him cov­er­ing many songs that I know and love well (par­tic­u­larly David Bowie, Lou Reed, Elbow, and Talk­ing Heads), but I find that I don’t know what to make of Scratch my Back even after repeated listening.

Many song­writ­ers lose their dark edge as they age (case in point: Pink Floyd’s once tor­tured, prickly Roger Waters is now a big smi­ley softie), and by all accounts Gabriel should have been fol­low­ing that track too. After leav­ing Gen­e­sis in 1975 to deal with fam­ily issues, his first four solo albums were increas­ingly dark and sin­is­ter. But 1986’s So marked a notice­able turn­around in tone and an appar­ent psy­chic heal­ing. Now report­edly still pals with his old Gen­e­sis cohorts, aging grace­fully into a pot­belly and gnomish goa­tee, remar­ry­ing, father­ing two new sons, and rec­on­cil­ing with his two daugh­ters from a pre­vi­ous mar­riage, he seemed to be trans­form­ing into a cud­dly grand­fa­ther fig­ure. A trickle of releases over the past decade showed him favor­ing directly-worded songs for chil­dren, includ­ing the Oscar-nominated “That’ll Do” (from the movie Babe), the unsub­tle “Ani­mal Nation” (from The The Wild Thorn­ber­rys Movie), and “Down to Earth” (from Wall-E).

Sud­denly, he appears to have reversed back into depres­sive ter­ri­tory. Nearly every song cho­sen for Scratch My Back has been trans­formed into a mourn­ful dirge. Espe­cially when lis­tened to in one sit­ting, I find many of the inter­pre­ta­tions to be too depress­ing, and I actu­ally like depress­ing music. My favorite exam­ples along these lines are Michael Andrews and Gary Jules’ cry-your-guts-out cover of Tears for Fears’ “Mad World” (from the movie Don­nie Darko), and Elbow’s ago­niz­ingly heartrend­ing ver­sion of U2’s “Run­ning to Stand Still” (from the War Child ben­e­fit album Heroes).

Peter Gabriel Scratch My Back

Gabriel’s ver­sion of The Mag­netic Fields’ “Book of Love” has appar­ently become some­thing of a sen­sa­tion on YouTube, licensed in tele­vi­sion shows, and played at celebrity wed­dings. Per­haps I’m cold­hearted, but it does absolutely noth­ing for me. Song­writer Stephin Mer­ritt says his ver­sion was sar­cas­tic, while Gabriel’s is deadly serious:

At first I thought, How hilar­i­ous, he’s got a com­pletely dif­fer­ent take on the song. But after a few lis­tens I find it quite sweet. My ver­sion of the song focuses on the humor, and his focuses on the pathos. Of course, if I could sing like him I wouldn’t have to be a humorist.

Did Gabriel just plain miss Merritt’s point, or did he inten­tion­ally trans­form it into some­thing sen­ti­men­tal, singing the same words but alter­ing the instru­men­ta­tion and deliv­ery? All that said, some­thing to cher­ish in Gabriel’s cover is the pres­ence of his daugh­ter Melanie on back­ing vocals.

Elbow’s “Mir­ror­ball” is one of the most rav­ish­ing love songs I’ve heard. Elbow remixed Gabriel’s “More Than This” in 2002, pro­vid­ing a more organic rock struc­ture to Gabriel’s per­haps over-processed stu­dio orig­i­nal. But Gabriel does not return the favor here, turn­ing their gor­geous love song into a depres­sive bummer.

The once case where Gabriel’s bummer-o-vision may have actu­ally been appro­pri­ate is with Paul Simon’s “Boy in the Bub­ble”, which actu­ally does have very dark lyrics.

The orig­i­nal record­ing of David Bowie’s “Heroes” boasts an unfor­get­table lead gui­tar line from Robert Fripp, which by his own rules Gabriel must sub­tract. He sings Bowie’s Berlin-inspired lyrics in cracked, anguished tones, not an emo­tion I asso­ciate with the song.

The one song I liked imme­di­ately was “Lis­ten­ing Wind”. The orig­i­nal is one of the odder tracks on Talk­ing Heads’ Remain in Light, and Gabriel rather amaz­ingly draws out a catchy melody embed­ded in the exper­i­men­tal song.

The Spe­cial Edi­tion includes a sec­ond cd with four bonus tracks: a cover of The Kinks’ “Water­loo Sun­set” and alter­nate ver­sions of “The Book of Love”, “My Body is a Cage”, and “Heroes”. It might have been inter­est­ing to also include some of Gabriel’s past cov­ers, includ­ing The Bea­t­les’ “Straw­berry Fields”, Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne”, and Joseph Arthur’s “In the Sun”. I would have also very much liked to hear instru­men­tal mixes of some of Metcalfe’s orches­tral arrangements.


Offi­cial Peter Gabriel site: www.petergabriel.com

Buy the Scratch My Back Spe­cial Edi­tion from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


David Byrne, Live at Radio City Music Hall, February 28, 2009

David Byrne On Tour Poster

 

David Byrne and Brian Eno, both Dork Report favorites, col­lab­o­rated exten­sively between 1978–1980. Many of these clas­sic albums have passed into the musi­cal canon, most espe­cially Talk­ing Heads’ Remain in Light (1980) and My Life in the Bush of Ghosts (1981). I believe there are some lin­ger­ing rumors of inter­per­sonal fric­tion, cer­tainly within the four Talk­ing Heads, but Byrne and Eno appear to have remained in light, as it were. As Byrne relates the story in the liner notes to their new album Every­thing That Hap­pens Will Hap­pen Today, the pos­si­bil­ity of his com­plet­ing sev­eral of Eno’s stock­piled instru­men­tal demos arose over din­ner. The even­tual result is a bril­liant new album that is unmis­tak­ably the prod­uct of these two unique musi­cians, but is cer­tainly no sequel or retread of past glories.

David Byrne Live at Radio City Music HallSquint and you might see more than some blotches of color

Tour­ing to sup­port the new mate­r­ial, Byrne chal­lenged him­self with the self-imposed restric­tion to draw from only the five albums on which he worked with Eno: More Songs about Build­ings and Food, Fear of Music, Remain in Light, My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, and Every­thing That Hap­pens Will Hap­pen Today. Even with this self-imposed lim­i­ta­tion of albums that are all, frankly, kind of weird, it’s amaz­ing how many toe-tapping pop songs they contain.

The excel­lently sequenced set list, mostly alter­nat­ing between the weird and (rel­a­tively) nor­mal, kept the mas­sive Radio City Music Hall audi­ence singing along. Strange Over­tones, my favorite song from the new album, came first. Talk­ing Heads’ Crosseyed and Pain­less proved an early cli­max, bring­ing the entire audi­ence to their feet for most of the rest of the show. The only dis­ap­point­ment was that Byrne selected only one sin­gle track from the leg­endary My Life in the Bush of Ghosts: Help Me Some­body. It was imag­i­na­tively rearranged with live voices replac­ing the original’s found vocals (or as Byrne noted that we would call them today, sam­ples). Why not try the same with some of the other great tracks on that album?

David Byrne Live at Radio City Music HallThe long white splotch in the mid­dle is David Byrne and the Rockettes!

The stage design was per­fectly aus­tere, and decep­tively sim­ple. I espe­cially liked the stark, mono­chro­matic light­ing design. The entire band was clad in white, and three mod­ern dancers accom­pa­nied sev­eral songs with wit­tily chore­o­graphed rou­tines. The show cli­maxed with a truly barn­storm­ing ver­sion of Burn­ing Down the House, with the entire band dressed in frilly tutus. It could only be com­pleted by the star­tling appear­ance by… wait for it… the bloody Rock­ettes! OMGWTF!? Need­less to say, the crowd went bananas.

In short, I had a grand time. Here at The Dork Report, I have fewer qualms about rat­ing movies on a five-star scale than I do con­certs. Movies are cheap enough to rent in con­sume in large gulps. I end up see­ing many bad or mediocre movies, but few con­cerst that sucks. The likely expla­na­tion is the expense involved, which often lim­its the con­certs I go to to artists that I already very much like. The only rea­son I didn’t rate this par­tic­u­lar show higher is that I could imag­ine that if I could time-travel back to the 1980s and see the orig­i­nal Talk­ing Heads (prefer­ably dur­ing the period Adrian Belew was in their live band), that would eas­ily by five stars.


Offi­cial album site: EverythingThatHappens.com

Buy David Byrne and Brian Eno’s album Every­thing That Hap­pens Will Hap­pen Today from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


Daniel Lanois: Here Is What Is

Here Is What Is movie poster

 

Daniel Lanois is a unique musi­cian, as gifted a singer-songwriter in his own right as he is a col­lab­o­ra­tor and pro­ducer. I orig­i­nally came to rec­og­nize his name after find­ing it listed in the cred­its of many key items in The Dork Report’s for­mi­da­ble music col­lec­tion, includ­ing Peter Gabriel’s So and Us, U2’s The Joshua Tree and Achtung Baby, and Bob Dylan’s Oh Mercy and Time Out of Mind. His 1993 solo album For the Beauty of Wynona remains an all-time per­sonal favorite.

The fea­ture doc­u­men­tary Here Is What Is pre­miered at the Toronto Film Fes­ti­val in 2007, directed by Lanois, Adam Samuels, and Adam Vol­lick. It cap­tures the record­ing of the album of the same name, but also serves as a kind of ret­ro­spec­tive and mis­sion state­ment. Con­ver­sa­tions between Lanois and early men­tor (now equal) Brian Eno punc­tu­ate the film. Lanois states to Eno his inten­tions for the movie: to cre­ate a film about the beauty of music, not every­thing that sur­rounds it (which I took to mean hagiog­ra­phy, celebrity gos­sip, and the some­times tedious behind-the-sceens doc­u­men­ta­tion typ­i­cal of the genre). Eno sug­gests that his film should try to show peo­ple that art often grows out of noth­ing, or from the sim­plest of seeds in the right sit­u­a­tions, not from what out­siders might assume are the mirac­u­lous inspi­ra­tions of allegedly bril­liant or gifted artistes.

Daniel Lanois and Brian Eno in Here Is What IsDaniel Lanois and Brian Eno record­ing their new ambi­ent mas­ter­work, “Music for Staircases”

Lanois is Cana­dian by birth, but has a spe­cial affin­ity for the Amer­i­can South, espe­cially New Orleans. He cred­its New Orleans for the orig­i­nal sen­sual groove that formed the basis of rock music. Per­haps intended as a visual echo of this the­ory, the stun­ningly beau­ti­ful Car­olina Cerisola often appears danc­ing in her scanties.

Lanois details his long­time, fruit­ful col­lab­o­ra­tion with drum­mer Brian Blade. Leg­endary key­boardist of The Band, Garth Hud­son, also joins them in the stu­dio for some truly awe­some per­for­mances. One of my favorite sequences inter­cuts between “The Maker” per­formed by Lanois’ band live in stu­dio, cov­ered by Willie Nel­son and Emmy­lou Har­ris, and Lanois’ band live on stage. Billy Bob Thorn­ton, still friends from col­lab­o­rat­ing on the score to Sling Blade in 1996, drops in for a visit. We catch excit­ing glimpses of record­ing U2’s forth­com­ing album (since chris­tened No Line on the Hori­zon, to be released in Feb­ru­ary 2009) with Eno and Steve Lillywhite.

Daniel Lanois in Here Is What IsWhich but­ton dials down Bono’s ego?

Lanois names a pri­mar­ily influ­ence to be the Jimi Hen­drix Expe­ri­ence, which he describes as a fairly straight­for­ward rock trio but with ambi­tious, exper­i­men­tal pro­duc­tion. He describes how he him­self approaches pro­duc­tion, in just one word: “feel.” He report­edly had a con­tentious rela­tion­ship with Dylan in the stu­dio, but the resul­tant albums are clas­sics, and Dylan affirmed that “you can’t buy ‘feel.’” Another Lanois apho­rism, “max­i­mize the room,” means to make the most of what you have, rather than invite guest musi­cians or order up more equipment.

Here Is What Is fea­tures full per­for­mances of songs, which is espe­cially wel­come com­pared to two recent music doc­u­men­taries recently screened by The Dork Report: Low in Europe (read The Dork Report review) and You May Need a Mur­derer (read The Dork Report review), which both shy away from actu­ally show­ing Low per­form. Here Is What Is’s visu­als are some­times com­pro­mised with cheesy video effects. The film is at its best when sim­ply fol­low­ing the hyp­notic move­ments of Lanois’ hands on his pedal steel guitar.


Offi­cial movie site: daniellanois.com/hereiswhatis

Buy the DVD from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


For All Mankind

For All Mankind movie poster

 

It was a weird expe­ri­ence to finally see the orig­i­nal film for the sound­track to which I’ve lis­tened to count­less times. Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois’ Apollo: Atmos­pheres & Sound­tracks is a gor­geous piece of work, and very much col­ored my expec­ta­tions of what the film would be. Hav­ing long pic­tured a largely abstract com­pi­la­tion of oth­er­worldly lunar footage, I was sur­prised to find For All Mankind a more straight­for­ward doc­u­men­tary than what was already in my head. (Bits and pieces from the com­pi­la­tion album Music for Films III also appear.)

Unlike In the Shadow of the Moon, the 2007 fea­ture doc­u­men­tary on the same sub­ject, For All Mankind exclu­sively uses orig­i­nal footage taken dur­ing the Apollo Mis­sions, much of it by the astro­nauts them­selves. The absence of new nar­ra­tion or footage rightly places the empha­sis solely on the achieve­ments of the orig­i­nal par­tic­i­pants. But a draw­back is that the inter­vie­wees on the sound­track are not iden­ti­fied (the Cri­te­rion DVD edi­tion includes an option to dis­play sub­ti­tles iden­ti­fy­ing the speakers).

For All MankindOpen the pod bay doors, HAL

I have lit­tle to add to Matthew Dessem’s excel­lent review on The Cri­te­rion Con­trap­tion blog, or to my own thoughts on In the Shadow of the Moon. Three small observations:

  • I was com­pletely igno­rant that NASA first began space­walks dur­ing the Apollo mis­sions. I was under the impres­sion they began dur­ing the space shut­tle mis­sions of my youth. In ret­ro­spect, it makes per­fect sense that NASA would test space­walks in orbit over the Earth before attempt­ing to step out of a cap­sule onto the moon, but: Wow!
  • The astro­nauts were very con­scious of Stan­ley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Each astro­naut could bring one cas­sette tape to play on a portable deck, and one chose Strauss’ “Also Sprach Zarathus­tra”. Another describes see­ing the moon sur­face up close as being like some­thing from 2001.
  • Due to the film’s nature of being com­prised of orig­i­nal footage, there’s per­haps too much of the astro­nauts goof­ing off in zero-G, and not enough of the spec­tac­u­lar lunar footage. But it goes to show that even the pilots selected for being the most sane and calm peo­ple in the word still turn to excited kids when play­ing in outer space (with the rare excep­tion to prove the rule).

Cri­te­rion DVD info: http://www.criterion.com/asp/release.asp?id=54

Cri­te­rion Con­trap­tion review: http://criterioncollection.blogspot.com/2006/04/54-for-all-mankind.html

Buy the DVD from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to me.