Chances are if the weird naked-girl-with-animal-head
sleeve doesn't grab you then the anticipation will already have
got you. Beth Jeans Houghton is one of those artists,
a bit like Josh T. Pearson, whose first LP is greeted
with angsty expectation by the music press, that expectation cultivated
over an extended period; in this case, that period is almost four
years from when Houghton's first music appeared in 2008. It also
helped that Mute kept the album under wraps far
longer than reviewers would ordinarily tolerate; if this was a Hollywood
movie, the critics would have already drawn the unassailable conclusion
that the movie was a stinker, otherwise the studio would have readily
let the journos in to watch. For some reason, not making this available
to the press much earlier than its actual release seems to have
just heightened the hype surrounding Houghton's first album.
Produced by Ben Hillier, the inexplicably-named
Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose finds Houghton, a talented
lyricist and multi-instrumentalist judging by the sleeve, and her
Hooves Of Destiny (Findlay MacAskill
on violin, Dav Shiel on drums, Rory Gibson
on bass, and Edward Blazey on trumpet and guitar)
cutting a distinctive path through modern music's more folksy places,
paying little heed to how a female singer should sound. In the post-Florence
& The Machine World, it's tempting to believe that female singers
should feel unencumbered by music history, and Houghton's songs
certainly have a sound which is unlike anything else out there right
now. Her style appears to draw upon the weird mysticism of British
folk groups from yesteryear blended with the downright unhinged
kookiness of the likes of Tori Amos. A quick run through the lyric
sheet provides few clues to what these songs are all about, almost
as if Houghton was writing down particularly vivid and strange dreams,
lots of strange imagery and oblique references. My favourite lines
come during the spoken-word section of 'Nightswimmer', an early
version of which first appeared on Houghton's 'Golden' single in
2009, whereupon she mouths 'And the cracks in the pavement sweat
like the crust / Of a toffee pecan pie'. Try knocking out a
couplet like that Florence Welch.
Hillier certainly wrings out an organic warmth from
the ten songs here, Houghton and The Hooves (and occasionally Hillier
himself) laying down a multitude of instruments, giving the tracks
a casual feel, almost as if everyone was content to grab whatever
instruments were hanging about the studio and muck around while
Hillier expertly captured the whole affair. A sense of warmth and
often dark beauty seeps from every track, augmented on most tracks
by a string quartet formed of Ian Budge on cello, Everton Nelson
and Sally Herbert on violins and Bruce White on viola. I said in
the single review of 'Liliputt' (which I'm no closer to fathoming
after reading the lyrics) that the song reminded me on some level
of Dexy's or their modern counterparts The Rumble Strips, and that
same sense of joyful abandon colours all but the quietest tracks
on Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose. I asked my music-loving,
ukulele-playing five-year-old daughter what she thought; after the
inevitable request to add the songs to her iPod, she described the
songs as 'jumpy'. I suspect if she knew what 'jaunty' meant, she'd
probably have employed that adjective instead.
The track that was playing when I asked my eldest
daughter for review copy was 'Atlas', which is one of the strongest
songs on the album, featuring pounded layers of intense drums, skinny
funk guitar culled from Vampire Weekend or their antecedents Talking
Heads. 'Dissecting the atlas for places we've been / Your list
is longer but you've got more years on me,' is one of the most
evocative lines here, coincidentally echoing a conversation around
our household dinner table a weekend or so ago. Houghton's voice
here effortlessly shifts between the hyper-falsetto and warm, sweet
tones that pervade many of the tracks here, while a spoken word
section by Neesha Champaneria provides a dark counterpoint to the
more joyously carefree sound elsewhere on the song. Another big
highlight is 'Humble Digs' with its rolling drums and plucked countrified
ukulele, expressive strings and a chorus of Houghton and The Hooves
that sounds like a miners' choir or Annie Get Your Gun
chorus line; 'Humble Digs' is upbeat and infectious. A couple of
listens and it'll feel like an old friend.
A sense of wry breeziness dominates tracks like
'Franklin Benedict' wherein Houghton offers up lines that evoke
summery warmth ('Roasting peppers in the back yard,') and
the downright creepy (something about a unitard, singly the most
unpleasant thing ever invented). This is in direct contrast to the
album's official closing track, 'Carousel', which is a short track
with a weird, harpsichord and piano rhythm. There's also gorgeous
strings, scary cackling, crackling noises and bells. It should feel
upbeat but feels unsettling on some level, as if it masks something
dark and unpleasant; like a track from Poses by Rufus Wainwright.
It also sounds like something from a fairground, and that's always
guaranteed to creep me out.
The new version of 'Nightswimmer' retains that track's
producer Adem's spiralling synth curlicues, but Hillier polishes
the track with a new depth compared to that tentative original,
the enquiring bass in particular gaining a blissful prominence.
Whilst on face value it sounds as ethereal as anything else here,
Houghton's detached lyrics seem to indicate a metaphorical drowning.
Of this track I have said previously that it reminds me of both
Depeche Mode's 'One Caress' and 'Trilby's Couch'
from AC Marias's solitary Mute album, One Of
Our Girls Has Gone Missing, sharing a similar sense of dark
Twin Peaks-style mysteriousness. A sense of mysteriousness
also dominates 'The Barely Skinny Bone Tree', which sounds vaguely
like a traditional Russian or Greek dance song, all plucked violin
and the sense that at any second it could accelerate into a manic
and out-of-control fervency, only offset by Houghton's floating,
dark vocal. The chorus sees the plucking replaced by mournful strings
and a sense of weariness and strained sadness. 'The Barely Skinny
Bone Tree' has a deeply affecting quality, though it's queasily
unsettling at the same time.
As if to confound further still, once 'Carousel'
winds down, an uncredited song suddenly snarls into view. This bonus
track (I've been advised that it's called 'Prick AKA Sean') sounds
like The Fratellis's or Green Day's take on grimy punk rock, Houghton's
voice barely audible underneath the Hooves' testosterone-filled
harmonies. Against all the odds, this song is angry, joyous, a little
bit glam-rock and evidently a whole lot of fun after the more studied
pieces elsewhere. It provides a fittingly baffling conclusion to
a brave, adventurous and above all, well-realised debut album, and
one that was truly worth waiting for. Apparently there is a second
album's worth of songs waiting to be released, thanks to the protracted
illness that plagued Hillier, and which contributed to Yours
Truly, Cellophane Nose's delays; whether it will be quite so
strange and individual remains to be heard, but you can only hope
it will be.
The title of Beth Jeans Houghton's
debut single for Mute had me scratching my head
remembering my junior school maths lessons, trying desperately to
recall how many sides a dodecahedron actually had, then kicking
myself once I had looked up the definition (it's twelve, by the
way). The first track from her Ben Hillier-produced
debut album, not just for Mute, but full stop, was initially released
back in April 2011 upon the announcement that the cult singer had
signed with Mute and subsequently appeared on the Short
Circuit edition of Vorwärts.
This was my first exposure to her music; I dimly recognised the
name, but had never knowingly heard any of the tracks from her first
two singles / EPs.
Houghton herself described the origins of the track
as follows: 'The night before I wrote it I had a dream that consisted
of me running up to strangers in the street and asking them what
a dodecahedron was, but no one knew. I later found out that the
ancient Greeks believed the dodecahedron is a symbol of the universe
and represents an idealized form of divine thought. Take from that
what you will.' At least I shared my poor familiarity with the shape
with the inhabitants of Houghton's dream.
'Dodecahedron' is a strange, beguiling piece of
lyrical and musical oddness; not the sort of stuff you'd expect
to get playlisted on Radio 1, but against all odds that's exactly
what's happened. Vaguely reminiscent of Feist, the track has a fairly
jaunty verse, full of evocative imagery and references to the dream
which inspired the song, which gives way to Goldfrapp-style,
ethereal Felt Mountain-esque harmonising (a chorus?) with
the whole thing slowed down to what feels like half of what it was
on the verses. At times there's a whiff of folk whimsy, a bit of
opera, a bit of Phil Spector-style drama and heavy reverb on one
instrumental passage where everything else drops away, just leaving
the drum sound, before building back up again into the main thrust
of the song. It's completely confounding but utterly wonderful.
A treat for the ears.
'Liliputt', the first 'physical' release for Beth
Jeans Houghton & The Hooves Of Destiny since signing
to Mute Artists has been kicking around for a while
now. An earlier version appeared on 2009's 'Hot Toast Volume 1'
EP (only there it was called 'Lilyputt'), I have a 2009 radio session
recording somewhere (where Houghton also played 'Dodecahedron')
and this 7" was initially available at the merchandise stalls
at gigs from earlier this year.
Do I understand 'Liliputt'? Frankly, no. A minor,
semi-operatic drama disguised as three minute pop song, 'Liliputt'
features lyrics I can't fathom, driving, shuffling drums and strings
where you'd expect guitars to be, a soaring MS20 synth from the
track's producer Ben Hillier, occasional plucked
folksy acoustic guitar and a recording of a safety message from
a hovercraft hidden away in amongst the crackle of the vinyl. It
has a strange euphoria and for some reason - probably arising from
the drums and strings - I'm reminded of 'Come On Eileen' by Dexys.
The sleeve also clarifies exactly who the Hooves Of Destiny actually
are, consisting of Findlay MacAskill (violin, vocals),
Dav Shiel (drums, vocals), Rory Gibson
(bass, vocals) and Edward Blazey (vocals, trumpet,
guitar). In addition to Hillier's synth, strings were arranged by
Sally Herbert.
'Your Holes', with its washes of banjo and skiffly
beat reminds me of a track called 'Cabron' from the Red Hot Chili
Peppers' 2002 album By The Way, having a vaguely country
feel which is pleasant on the eardrums. (Incidentally, Flea from
the Chili Peppers has been raving about Houghton, along with everyone
else, while Anthony Kiedis has been romantically linked with the
singer). Again, I can't fathom what the Dickens she's singing about,
but this appears to be about metaphorical animals cavorting about
the place and then retreating to their metaphorical holes. 'Your
Holes' also features the massed Hooves giving their best baritone
vocal harmonies and the track was produced by in-house Mute guy
David 'Saxon' Greenep.
For some reason, these songs remind me of some curious
Seventies missive I might find lurking in my parents' record collection,
just because it doesn't sound like something that could possibly
have been released in 2011. Note that iTunes and other platforms
have censored the (weird, weird, weird) sleeve with the text 'Dear
children, society doesn't want you to know about breasts.' It's
art, I think.
'Sweet Tooth Bird' was the opening track on Beth
Jeans Houghton & The Hooves Of Destiny's debut album,
Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose. Strident, powerful and uncompromisingly
original, 'Sweet Tooth Bird' has a gorgeously euphoric edge, dominated
by Ed Blazey's horns and some tinkly old-fashioned
keyboard sounds that feel like they should belong on a Beach Boys
record. Short and sweet, 'Sweet Tooth Bird' includes an unexpected,
dense middle section where Houghton urges someone to 'calm down,
please'; instead of reminding of Michael Winner in a well-known
car insurance commercial, that middle section has a desperate, urgent
quality to it, a strange contrast to the more uplifting sound elsewhere
on this delightfully individual song.
B-side 'Telephone' has a strained, meandering blues
quality to it, Houghton adopting a gentle, intimate vocal that only
rises in volume toward the end of the track. Musically locked into
an early Eighties, 4AD or Rough Trade style vibe, 'Telephone' is
interesting, simply because it sounds so different to anything on
Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose, but not really a patch on
the songs on the album.
The single comes in a garish pink sleeve containing
an ostensibly cute image of a young girl; cute, that is, until you
notice the raised middle finger on the left hand. The video for
the single can be found below.
Beth Jeans Houghton's 'Atlas' was
released as a limited picture disc 7" in a worldwide edition
of 250 for Mute's series of Record Store Day 2012
exclusives.
'Atlas' is truly one of the most joyous songs on
the whole Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose album, galloping
forward on pounded drums and featuring guitar playing that effortlessly
manages to reference the skeletal sound of funk (as realised by
Talking Heads or Vampire Weekend) with the baritone vocal harmonies
of songs you'd expect to find in old Western movies. Houghton's
voice here effortlessly shifts between the hyper-falsetto and warm,
sweet tones that pervade many of the tracks on the album, while
a spoken word section by Neesha Champaneria provides a dark counterpoint
to the more carefree sound elsewhere on the song. The song is also
balanced out by some quieter, more ruminative sections in which
Houghton reflects on, for example, how red wine and whiskey aren't
good for her.
The B-side of the single, 'Caialogue' is a collaboration
with artist Cai Nyahoe, who has worked with Beth's brother Ben in
the past. Appropriately enough for Record Store Day, which aims
to encourage the listening public back into independent record stores,
the track features Nyahoe delivering a measured lecture on the risks
to the music industry from illegal downloading and filesharing,
and the threat to bands and artistic creativity from such activity.
Anyone following the debate that has been raging in The Wire
following Ken 'Ubuweb' Goldsmith's attempts to legitimise downloads
will be familiar with the arguments presented by Nyahoe here. The
musical backdrop, created by Beth and the Hooves (with heartbeat
and production by Ed Blazey) consists of loops,
grainy noise and textures, giving the impression of a malfunctioning
radio broadcast of Nyahoe's sermon.
The single is also now available on iTunes. The
video can be viewed below.
