Interview

Apparently, women have begun altering the appearance of their nether regions plastic surgery in order to achieve an "improved" and "youthful" look. Not shockingly, recent studies have shown that this particular method of "streamlining" one's appearance is not as physically harmless as it seemed.

What does this have to do with music? It appears that flesh isn't the only thing that is often more than fine as is. Music is also altered and repackaged to the detriment of the careful listener's experience. Even with the artist's or band's consent and cooperation, the effect can be emasculating (or defeminizing, as the case may be).

I'm all for improving the records, if possible. The problem remastering almost invariably leaves albums just like plastic surgery victims ('"re-massacred?"). The age and vintage that gives the  music character is masked underneath attempts to force the sound to conform to contemporary trends. Take the recently remastered Joy Division albums: The dubby, isolated void created by original producer Martin Hannett is flattened. His revolutionary formula (rhythm section forward, guitar and vocals pushed back) is reversed to match the bands Joy Division stood as an alternative to, as well as the band's now countless imitators.

Updating all of the tracks digitally to today's standards often results in a louder and cleaner sound, but it is often more flat synthetic, as well. (See the Can and Kraftwerk reissues). A similar case is the remastering of the influential Gas albums by Wolfgang Voigt. Part of the magic of these records is their nearly imperceptible, womb-like, deep bass kick, which I've always found similar to the comforting sound of windshield wipers bumping across the glass during a storm. The remastered versions sport a much more defined, comparatively normal bass kick, something that might sound good in a club but which distracts from the lush, swirling layers of sound that surround the beat.
 
Take some time to listen and compare for yourself. It might not be apparent coming out of laptop speakers in a cubicle, but if you really want to test it, try it out at home on decent speakers (or at least decent headphones). I am not concerned with the endless repackaging and remastering of the Beatles back catalogue, but please, no more cleaver jobs of my personal favorites. Look to the reissued classics from Neu, Big Star, This Heat, Ike Yard, Monoton, and the recent Bauhaus reissues for examples of remastered music done right. And just say no to Michael Jackson/Meg Ryan/Jocelyn Wildentstein Tijuana face–or any other kind–lifts!

Future Days Can

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 Don't Stop, the latest full length from Nordic electropopper Annie, delivers a collection of irrepressibly upbeat bangers produced by Xenomania, Bloc Party collaborator Paul Epworth, and Timo Kaukolampi and Richard X, with whom she collaborated on her first album Anniemal. The call-and-response opener "Hey Annie" combines her sweet and direct songwriting with a gritty, 80s analog aesthetic, leading the charge through a dozen sparkly pop songs that mix surface sweetness with a self-aware, and sometimes times melancholy, interior. (PHOTO BY NINA MERIKALLIO)

While a label dispute delayed the release of Don't Stop for more than a year, Annie relocated from Bergen, Norway to Berlin and has been immersing herself in the global capital of forward-thinking electronic music. I spoke with her during her quick DJ tour of the U.S (the New York stop is Saturday at the Tribeca Grand).

ALEX SHERMAN: Are you familiar with some of the laws in New York City that prohibit where and when you can dance? They call them Cabaret Laws.

ANNIE: Yeah! That I find really exotic! It's really strange to have a place where it's not allowed to dance. It's like, you can dance over there but not over here. I find that more exotic than annoying.

SHERMAN: What do you mean by exotic?

ANNIE: I don't know any other place in the world where you have rules that you're not allowed to dance in certain places. I can understand some places you're not allowed to spit or scream something awful, but not allowed to dance to me is really... interesting.

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Some bands seem to come pre-packaged, seemingly delivered out of thin air. Then there are others who crash the party with explosive new sounds and transgressive stage sets that force people to take notice. Such is the case with Sherlock's Daughter. After getting together this spring, releasing a five-track EP through Australia's Inertia label, and supporting The Temper Trap and School of Seven Bells on their respective summer tours down under, the Sydney-based fivesome booked plane tickets to New York on a whim hoping to secure a few shows after confirming last-minute spots on a couple CMJ showcases. (PHOTO: SHERLOCK'S DAUGHTER)

"I think we're just impatient," says bassist Liam Flanagan. "We figured if we didn't book any shows we'd at least have a good holiday." Looks like they'll be getting both. On the heels of the trippy dance party they delivered at The Hours Norwood showcase, the band scored a monthlong residency at Pianos, which kicked off last Thursday with a crowd chockablock of entertainment lawyers. If you get a chance, go see them. With a name that's an ode to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, a singer (Tanya Horo) who was kicked out of her Christian high school and a youth camp–in Christchurch, New Zealand, no less–for being a witch, and a woodsy, synth-backed sound powered by Horo's whispery Nina Persson-esque vocals and an almost aboriginal backbeat, they should have some staying power. Thurston Moore even namechecked them as a band to watch in an interview last Friday with NPR.

Currently living together in Prospect Heights in an apartment where they share bunk bends ("I'm on the bottom," jokes Horo), the band is hoping to record a two-track 7-inch disc at the Catskill's renowned Outlier Inn before going back to Sydney next month to record their first album. "Unless something amazing happens here we're going back in December," says the singer, who was formerly known as the actress Marvey King. A cross between Maggie Gyllenhaal, Ellen Page, and Karen O, Horo weaves around the stage like a black-clad pixie in some psychedelic forest. "When people describe our music it always ends up in a forest," says Horo. "Liam calls it Chinese country."

However you want to describe it, it's intoxicating to see the spell Horo and Co. cast on stage. Which brings us back to the witchcraft. "I did get kicked out of high school because they thought I was a witch, but I'm not a witch. I think it was because I had a boyfriend who was gothic. Also somebody spray-painted this massive white pentagram with 666 under it and I got blamed for it," she admits, though won't go into specifics about a purported voice that needed to get out of her at that time. "I'll tell you the whole story someday." No need to worry though, says drummer William Russell. "We're trying to steer her away from her witch past."

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With this (slightly late) playlist, we commemorate last week's most significant news: On November 8th, the US House backed healthcare reform with a narrow 220-215 vote. Great to hear we have a chance to end our status as the only industrialized nation that does not implement universal health care. Here, some songs intended to bolster us on to victory. (We're 60% of the way there!)

Sick of Being Sick Damned

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