Posts Tagged ‘10th anniversary’

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To celebrate the 10th anniversary of its release, Tame Impala present a deluxe, 4LP reissue of the debut album “InnerSpeaker” Recorded in 2009 in Western Australia, InnerSpeaker was Kevin Parker’s first full length missive and an explosive invitation into what would become his inimitable psych-tinged world.

This past May marked 10 years since the release of Tame Impala’s debut full-length Innerspeaker, and Kevin Parker has now shared plans to celebrate with a new expanded box set. Diehards will get excited at the inclusion of a previously unreleased ‘Wave House Live Jam’ – as in the studio property in WA where InnerSpeaker was made, and that Parker purchased recently.

Innerspeakerwill be reissued as a 4-LP box set in March 2021. The new package collects the original album alongside a newly unearthed side-long jam, instrumentals, song sketches, new “2020 mixes” of songs “Alter Ego” and “Runway, Houses, City, Clouds,” and a deluxe 40-page book.

This expanded deluxe edition of the album features the singles ‘Solitude Is Bliss’, ‘Lucidity’, ‘Expectation’ amongst the original album track list, plus:  collage of album sketches, An unearthed, side-long jam New mixes of tracks off the original album Instrumentals  deluxe 40-page booklet. The expanded deluxe edition of the album, will include new mixes of the tracks ‘Alter Ego’ and ‘Runway, Houses, City, Clouds’ as well as instrumentals, demos, and a previously unreleased side-long recording called ‘Wave House Live Jam’.

Parker also posted an alternative cover of the LP, and how it brought back “emotional” memories for him.

He said at the time: “My first album is 10 years old today. This version of the cover was 1 version out from the final, but i found it the other day for the first time since 2010 and it makes me very emotional to just look at because it reminds me of what I was going through about a week out from finishing and signing off on the whole album, which scared the shit out of me and at the time seemed like an insurmountable task.”

Peering into the telescoped treetops and dreamy skies on the album art for Tame Impala’s debut album Innerspeaker feels like slipping into a vortex of endless light, deviating perception and wonder, all before you’ve even heard a sound.

There’s a brief burst of static on opener ‘It Is Not Meant To Be’, which quickly leads to a coiling guitar and ruminating bass riff. It simulates that jolt of excitement (in a previous generation), when you found the right frequency to your favourite radio station, or clear reception to your favourite television channel.

It was like cracking a code and unlocking a hidden doorway to adventure and discovery. Innerspeaker is Kevin Parker‘s technicolour broadcast of the richness and complexity of his emotional landscapes, a place where words are secondary to the evocative nature of sound. In many cases, words themselves are an adjunct to the texture, rhythm, and solidity of the sounds. At other times, they fail our protagonist outright in his attempts at expressing his young heart’s desires.

InnerSpeaker won the 2010 J Award for Australian Album of the Year – we praised it as a “spiralling, trippy adventure” at the time. And just a few months back, the album came #3 in Double J’s list of the 50 Best Australian Debut Albums. hailed as a “timeless album that still hits like a mind-melting sonic adventure from another era.”

‘Why Don’t You Make Up Your Mind?’, with its reverberant, panning guitars evoke intensely bashful pangs of lust. You can’t help but blush listening to it at the risk of being caught eavesdropping on such a tender experience.

But Parker wants to let us in. We’re invited to an existential quandary on ‘Desire Be, Desire Go’ and ‘Alter Ego’. The energetic thrust is insistent, and forwards focused, intent on propelling him out of his statis and self-doubt, contrasted by the drift of his airy and detached voice.

There’s a similar push and pull, of an internal tug of war in ‘Expectation’, and ‘Lucidity’ feels like a euphoric tumble between oscillating states of clarity and a beautiful daze.

If there’s one song that sums up thematically the core of this album and the operational foundations of Kevin Parker, it’s ‘Solitude is Bliss’. With words like ‘there’s a party in my head and no one is invited’, it’s clear he is very much at home in his own company. Yet he understands he is perhaps more a case of society’s exception rather than rule.

Solitude is Bliss’ video shows a distressed and unstable individual going against the flow of society, out of place, out of touch with himself in decaying and derelict surroundings. The impact of solitude and isolation have been on our minds a lot this year yet Innerspeaker reminds us of the fortifying and fulfilling possibilities that await within our inner realms.

From his private universe, Parker has laid out an intriguing internal roadmap. It’s one that we can follow, or maybe veer off on our own adventures of self discovery. Whatever the case may be, its testament that solitude can indeed be a beautifully rewarding and strangely unifying kind of bliss.

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National Fixed for Real

High Violet is one of those albums that exists as both a showcase of new music and an event. For The National, High Violet represented some sort of promise fulfilled. Just a year after Grizzly Bear’s Veckatimest, Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion, and Dirty Projectors’ Bitte Orca, the National became another indie act made good. Brooklyn was booming, and the band consisting of a wine-guzzling midwestern Leonard Cohen, two brothers plucked from guitar-nerd heaven, and two more brothers using the Grateful Dead and good vibes as the chief inspiration for the rhythm section, somehow became one of the most captivating acts in the nation.

Like seemingly every National record, High Violet begins with an absolute bang. “Terrible Love” is an all-time album opener, and perhaps the best song the National have recorded to date. Singer Matt Berninger begins with his vision blurred and words slurred, acting out the destructive tendencies he describes. His voice moves between self-contained characters at a moment’s notice, at one point almost too zonked to speak and the next completely raspy from pleading for understanding. It’s a performance, a method acting masterclass in character-based songwriting. Early National albums like Boxer and Alligator before it moved from quiet to loud and clean to messy. Here, on “Terrible Love,” the band throws away this rulebook, with the Dessner brothers fuzzing up their guitars from the outset as the Devendorfs use the rhythm section to slowly pull the song toward its thrilling apex.

The next few tracks on the album do more to establish tone and aesthetics than shine through in their own right, as “Sorrow” builds off of trembling acoustic guitars and a cleaner baritone from Berninger. The drums are nearly echoless, bright in tone and simple in composition. “Little Faith” scurries in panic, with sirens for guitars blaring above melodic and stagnant synthesizers. Bryan Devendorf shows off just how impressive of a drummer he is, giving the song its entire pace with just a few scattered ghost notes on his snare drum. Berninger’s desperation is palpable as he sings, “All our lonely kicks are getting harder to find / We’ll play nuns versus priests until somebody cries.” In the narcotized Upper Manhattan world that the National often watch and comment on, any emotion at all will suffice; even if it causes tears.

Afraid of Everyone” is the album’s second single after “Bloodbuzz Ohio,” and while the album’s second-half is a masterpiece in a way the first doesn’t quite reach, these two tracks are an apt thesis on the National’s changed approach for High Violet. Sufjan Stevens lends harmonies to the former, giving an ethereality to a band that’s so often rooted in a cold, broken reality. Berninger goes nearly breathless during the song’s finale, “Your voice has stolen my soul, soul, soul,” he sings, literally losing his voice as he does so ― a masterful showcase of descriptive vocal performance.

“Bloodbuzz” was released about two months before the album came out, and it’s a brilliant dividing point between the album’s two halves. Devendorf’s drums again steal the show, bouncing across the recording like a proton looking for its partner. The horns build with a quiet fury, and Berninger’s voice is more delicate here than on most of the record. The song is an emotional ode to the state that birthed the band, with lyrics from Berninger like, “I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees / I’ll never marry but Ohio don’t remember me.” Even when the images are nostalgic, they’re dipped in pain and regret: “I never thought about love when I thought about home.”

Berninger’s characters tend to always be running from things, and on High Violet his imagination doesn’t stop trying to escape, but perhaps these voices have grown comfortable with the practice. The album is a reconciliation of broken faith and half-hearted regret. There’s no point in letting pain linger if it doesn’t hurt that badly in the first place. The album’s back half begins with “Lemonworld,” an imagistic narrative from Berninger that’s more of a novel in verse than lyrics to a song. It’s spare and precise, with Berninger’s words cutting cleanly: “You and your sister live in a lemonworld / I want to sit in and die.” Among the layers and layers of the National’s elegant and pain-stakingly assembled compositions lie Berninger’s lyrics, which deserve their own listen outside the context of the music. His storytelling is incredibly intoxicating and he’s able to conjure the emotions of the words he sings in a way I’ve never heard before. It’s poetry, plain and simple .“Runaway” is a slow-building triumph, stadium-ready in a way the National began to master throughout High Violet. The album’s closing run is flawless, with “Conversation 16,” “England,” and “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” each succeeding in independently ecstatic ways. “Conversation 16” moves with the propulsion of a Hollywood thriller, while “England” is unabashedly anthemic, epically stirring without ever becoming corny. “Vanderlyle” is somber and mournful with hints of optimism, which is perhaps the only way to rightfully end a National album.The creation of the album was rumored to be an intense and volatile process, with the band spending days on certain details that nearly ripped the threads of the group’s foundation apart. It’s dramatic, but it also makes sense considering how thoroughly technical every detail of High Violet is. The band’s ability to stitch together a quilt and hide the seams betrays the work of masters, and it foreshadows a run of records that solidified the National as one of the most thrilling bands we’ve seen in a decade or more. Now, the group is more an entity than a band, with a festival and documentary populating album releases, but High Violet propelled them to this place. It was the last time The National were simply a band, before the world truly came calling. Prior to High Violet, they never had to answer.This edition of High Violet is about as deluxe as it comes; it’s on 3LP, comes with bonus tracks, and is housed in a triple gatefold sleeve. It’s the National album that broke them on the Billboard charts; the one that has arguably their most potent fist-pumper (“Bloodbuzz Ohio”) and it’s also the one that feels most underrated in their catalouge. Revisit 2010’s best indie rock album by getting this reissue, now. The National‘s 2010 album High Violet will be reissued as an expanded 10th anniversary 3LP coloured vinyl package in June.
This includes unreleased tracks ‘You Were a Kindness’ and ‘Wake Up Your Saints’ as well as alternate versions, B-sides, and live recordings. The album proper is across the first two LPs, with the third reserved for the bonus tracks. As can be seen from the image above, this release is being pressed on stunning white/violet coloured vinyl mix. These are numbered and come with a foil-blocked cover and a ‘bellyband’ (presumably the purple strip on the image).
High Violet (10th Anniversary Expanded Edition)