Mr. Watson...

A new playlist has debuted on Puck & Baedeker's Live365 radio station. One of the tracks on this playlist will be the subject of Monday's post. Click here to be taken to Puck & Baedeker Radio.

Make a soundtrack for a seance

Beloved, we bring you gifts from life into death. Commune with us, and move among us...

1. Bryan Ferry - Zamba
2. Gustavo Santoallala - Iguazu
3. Cranes - K56
4. Scala & Kolacny Brothers - Smells like teen spirit
5. Camouflage - Pompeji
6. Sarah McLachlan - Black (X-Files version)
7. Harold Budd - Algebra of darkness
8. Clan Of Xymox - Theme II
9. Craig Armstrong - Hymn 2
10. Eurythmics - Winston's diary
11. Knife - The captain
12. Massive Attack - Group four
13. Peter Gabriel - In doubt
14. Creatures - Prettiest thing
15. Mahogany - Domino ladder beta
16. This Mortal Coil - At first, and then
17. Siouxsie & The Banshees - An execution
18. Dead Can Dance - Ascension
19. Patrick O'Hearn - Upon the wings of night
20. Ennio Morricone - Miserere

Send me forwards

There are only two living authors whose new work I would buy in complete faith, without knowing anything about the book. They are Doris Lessing and Salman Rushdie; they have, through the sheer undeniability of their talent and courage, earned the highest level of my trust. I don't expect that every work of theirs will change my life, but I know for sure that whatever they do will be admirable, provocative, worthy of my time.

There are many musicians and groups whose work I am consistently interested to hear, but music is more ephemeral than literature. It's acceptable to listen to a single song, and not its whole album, in ways that are unacceptable with a work of literature. We may place great value on popular music that only transports us, rather than transforming us. There is a difference both in kind and in degree.

There are, however, a select few musicians whose work I do regard in the way I regard Lessing and Rushdie. They, too, have earned the highest level of my trust through the sheer undeniability of their talent and courage. Alas, many of them are no longer active. If Cocteau Twins reunited, or Smiths, or Siouxsie & The Banshees, I would buy their new work in complete faith, sure that it would be admirable, provocative, worthy of my time.

The prognosis for Siouxsie & her Banshees is even more dire, lately, since she has divorced from Banshee drummer Budgie and dissolved the second greatest of her projects, Creatures, on which they collaborated. But this phenomenal woman shows no signs of stopping, and her first completely solo album, Mantaray, is in no way the consolation prize for relinquishing her bands; it's the exciting new chapter in her relationship with me, and legions of her fans. (Say what you will about the darker corners of alternative music; those fans are astonishingly dedicated, and I make no claim to the upper tiers of rabid fandom.) Throughout the past three decades, Siouxsie has repeatedly surprised us, challenged us and expanded us; even though we couldn't predict what she would send us this time, there's no way we would turn it down.

We have crescendoed to an era when music is available in such quantities that it's sheerly impossible to hear it all, much less to form close relationships with most of it. Try as I might, on a daily basis I use arbitrary criteria to determine which musicians get my attention, and which don't. I feel very strongly about supporting these musicians, but I have to apply even narrower criteria to determine what CDs I purchase; these days, before I buy an album I have already heard some if not all of it. (That's probably the best argument I can make for the value of music on the internet; the vast majority of new music I purchase is the direct result of my hearing it on line.)

But I would have purchased Mantaray without having heard a single note of it. Of course, it's hugely gratifying that I was already in love with the album before it went on sale yesterday; I might have had to write a rather different post about accepting the clay feet of a cherished idol... I won't review the album because there is already no shortage of reviews, and they seem for the most part to be appropriately both reverential and discerning. I enjoy feeling that I perceive Siouxsie as a woman and a force of nature, a pop musician and an icon, a persona and an aesthetic unto herself. Her music is inextricably entwined with my life, and that is the strongest endorsement I can make.

Siouxsie offical website

W. Somerset Maugham

The Almighty can hardly be such a fool as the churches make out. If you keep His laws I don't think he can care a packet of pins whether you believe in Him or not.

Of Human Bondage, p. 208

DANIELLE DAX - BIG HOLLOW MAN

I was just settling into regular attendance at my first alternative club, and was still coming up to speed with the more obscure artists on the resident DJ's truly impressive roster. (That roster has become only more impressive in retrospect - with the resources of the internet about a decade away, and nothing resembling a big city closer than an hour's drive, I marvel at how Pete came up with those rare gems.) One of those early nights, I heard a song that belongs in the class of hits that conquered me from the very first encounter. I quickly learned that the artist was Danielle Dax, and the song was 'Big hollow man'.

She had been making albums for years, and had reached the point where signing with Sire and releasing a compilation could raise her profile; Dark Adapted Eye is her Songs To Learn And Sing, and it seemed to do the trick, relatively speaking. As smart and unique as she is, it's unfair that she didn't enjoy even greater success. Knowing her history as a musician who began performing before she actually learned to play any instruments, her work is all the more remarkable.

'Big hollow man' employs a little misdirection at the start. The syncopated strumming of guitars makes one wonder if a bluegrass clogging song might follow. But without any segue, the rock arrangement kicks in, and with it Dax's chorus, a nasal wail that could score her one of the witches' parts in Macbeth: 'Hey yeah / Walking in the valley of decision / Hey yeah / Reap all the wages of sin.' If she continued with that voice throughout the song, it would be altogether too much. But she steps down to an almost Nico-esque delivery for the verses, each of which is a gruesome little vignette about religious hypocrisy, so that when she returns to the wailing chorus, it makes complete sense as the bedrock of the song.

The first half of the first verse is sufficient to earn this woman a songwriting award. 'A big hollow man with a fistful of sham came a-walking across the sea / All leather and charms as he pinwheeled his arms and directed his gaze at me.' The internal rhyme scheme and an amazing collection of poetic descriptions paints quite a masterful picture. Ms. Dax is not on the side of the missionary, that's clear. And when the man opens his mouth to proselytize, it only gets worse...

The second verse, about a girl who endures incest from her religious father; and the third verse, about the destruction caused by a holy war, are good but not as great as the first. Nonetheless, in sum it's a real excoriation, a song that is completely satisfying as an infectious dance rock track, but that offers real depth and potency if one investigates the lyrics.

Others of her songs are more traditionally goth in nature. 'Cat house' and 'White knuckle ride' fit the category more neatly. But it's unfair to pigeonhole Danielle Dax that way (even though much of her visual presentation supports it); other songs like 'Whistling for his love' and 'Fizzing human bomb' show a broader range of influences, including ethnic drumming and psychedelic pop. (Later, she would cover Beatles' 'Tomorrow never knows'.)

Danielle Dax clearly used her inexperience to her advantage, making no assumptions and harboring no preconceived notions as she learned and created. Her dark and exotic aesthetic made for some fantastically underrated music that still sounds visionary.

[At the time of this post, a Danielle Dax official website is under construction.]

Addendum 11/01/09: Hat tip to reader Mark Douglass, who has pointed out to me that "the valley of decision" is actually a Biblical reference to Joel 3:14. This is precisely the kind of allusion that motivated me to write these essays in the first place. I pay lip service to the importance of the Bible in western literature, but this one escaped my notice. Thank you for the insight!