Nevermind The Box Sets

OMG. Are those brand new sleevenotes?!!!

For those of you who regular read any of the plethora of contemporary music blogs out there (or simply those of you who read the reviews section of the Sunday papers), the recent slew of deluxe reissues of historic and canonical albums cannot have escaped your attention. The latest objects of desire to be unleashed upon an assortment of salivating collectors and obsessives are the 20^th anniversary edition of Nirvana’s Nevermind and an extensive deluxe box set reissue of the entirety of the Pink Floyd discography. With similar sets available in the coming months covering material from U2 and The Smiths amongst others, this trend shows no signs of abating. But do these super-lush, super-detailed reissues improve the listener’s enjoyment of such albums, or are they merely expensive curiosities or status symbols for the “true fan”? Good for one listen perhaps, but ultimately consigned to collect dust, forgotten on some shelf or in some cupboard?

I must confess myself to owning a couple of these behemoth editions (the tenth anniversary set of Manic Street Preacher’s The Holy Bible and Pavement’s Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain LA’s Desert Origins Edition spring most quickly to mind), and the desire for some of the latest deluxe reissues has not bypassed me entirely. After all, everyone likes to own nice things. However, when I look back upon my purchases I somehow wonder what it was that led me to believe that I would find both the time and the will to watch the Manics perform their 1994 song Faster in four different settings. Whatever flawed logic it was, I suspect it was the very same which made me purchase both Later… with Jools Holland Louder and Later… with Jools Holland Even Louder on DVD. Have I ever watched them? Perhaps once, though it has to be said that despite its excellent showcasing ability, the “Later” format isn’t exactly one that draws inspired performances week in, week out. I bought that shit anyway.

So what is it exactly that makes us want to purchase the new 6-disc edition of Dark Side of the Moon or to own every version of Lithium or Polly ever recorded?* The motivation from the perspective of the record companies is clear; they have been losing revenue ever since the advent of the MP3 and online piracy, so making the packaging and presentation of a record itself the object of desire is an obvious way to restore sales and increase slimming profits. Some record companies have based their entire business model on it. Rhino Records, for example, has spent the best part of the last thirty years issuing excellent reprints of historic albums, often critically acclaimed cult records which were out of print and absolutely hankering for a new digital version and a few bonus tracks.

In essence, however, the record companies are now trying to reverse a downhill slide that they helped cause, primarily by introducing the cassette and the CD as standard formats. Before this, the artwork for an LP was of almost as much importance as the actual content itself. Rewind your C90s (or cue back your compact discs) to the mid 70s and there are countless stories of buyers purchasing records for the artwork alone, without ever having heard a note of the band’s music. Have you ever seen the inside of Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions, for example? The dude may have been blind but he certainly had a few mates who knew a fuckton about illustration. Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band had it’s own set of pop out figures. Dark Side of the Moon’s inside cover belongs in a gallery. I recently bought a copy of New Order’s Blue Monday/The Beach even though I knew the record it contained was too scratched to play. And these were all standard editions. Who has ever heard of a gatefold jewel case anyway?

It also brings into question the whole notion of the value of music; with millions and millions of songs and countless variety available at the click of a mouse for free, who, whether right or wrong, wants to actually buy music? Perhaps the trend in the release of beautiful new editions has something to do with this. Is it a manifestation of our subconscious desire to return value to music? The idealist in me wants to believe so.

Honestly though, what do I believe? Personally I think that it’s our generation’s equivalent of “the best silver”; a status symbol for those of us of a musical bent. Anyway, I’m going back to staring at my 25-disc vinyl box set of the sounds of John and Yoko’s primal scream sessions. Just kidding, this doesn’t exist. Yet.

*(Courtney Love must really be scraping the barrel by now so I’m pretty sure that the next Nirvana re-release will contain a swab of Kurt Cobain’s congealed blood).

The Jezabels - Prisoner

There are times as a reviewer when you just can’t write exactly what you want to about a piece of music. There are a few possible reasons for this; the publication you’re writing for might have a particular readership, you might have a personal dislike for the artist (I, for one, would never be able to give U2 a positive write up), or you might harbour an unhealthy obsession for the band you’re writing about. For me the problem I have in writing a review of The Jezabel’s debut record is entirely the latter. My objectivity has been completely clouded by my relationship with their first three EPs and my obsession with lead singer Hayley Mary, which quite frankly borders on creepy.

This is why I decided to be completely honest in this review and to give two different ratings for the album; one being as objective as possible and one for Jezabelophiles such as myself (I know they’re out there, I count several recent converts to the church of Jezabel amongst my friends). My personal preferences aside, I actually think that The Jezabels’ music lends itself well to a review of this type, as your enjoyment of their music depends largely on how wiling you are to invest in it’s drama and turmoil. The Jezabel’s do tend to go for the heartstrings, which makes them somewhat of a divisive entity.

Hayley Mary’s voice could be either shrill and melodramatic or intense and emotive depending upon your perspective. The music itself is much the same – the melodies will seem basic to detractors, yet to converts the songs will feel layered and lush, the rumbling verses brimming with tension and the choruses a mile wide. This is mirrored in the one-two punch of the first pair of tracks, with the brooding title track leading into bittersweet lead single “Endless Summer”, which channels thick synthesizers through Buckingham-Nicks era Fleetwood Mac, without sounding like Tango in the Night. In fact, this comparison rings true for much of the whole album; only two or three tracks fall far enough from the (closely adhered to, yet charming) template to escape it.

The smooth production sheen is something that will have not escaped those who have heard either of the band’s first two EPs, but for once an increase in production values has not led to overproduction, and it’s not as if the band have had to bow to any major label pressure to distil their sound, as they are still currently signed to an indie. In this sense, the change could easily compared to the one PJ Harvey undertook when she produced the glossy, lush Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea after years of punky blues highjinks.

In essence, this is the album that many will have expected it to be. It’s obvious that The Jezabels are going for a big audience here – they want to be filling arenas. The admirable thing is that they have retained their charm whilst losing their amateurishness. The band are sure to retain most of their fans, though it remains to be seen whether the record will draw in many who have not already been enticed by the supreme drama of last year’s Dark Storm EP.

Devotees: 4

Detractors: 3