The Australian funkmeisters have put together their most complex and mature album to date.
Firstly, I must admit that I am, of course, biased. Let me tell you how. In the summer of 2005, I first started going out with the girl who is now my wife. That summer, we fell in love to a lot of music, 'Clouds' by Joni Mitchell was one (my CD), 'The Cat Empire' (the band's debut proper) was another (hers).
The girlfriend who is now my wife, Australian of course, kept playing me this CD, and I thought it at first a little cheesy, if I'm honest. Sure, the trumpet hooks were bouncy, fresh, and, well, hooky, and the record positively bounced out of the speakers, but on the first few casual listens the whole thing just sounded a bit 5ive-sy to my brought up in grey old England ears. A bit boyband pop, with seemingly arbitrarily placed scratching on it, as if Bradley from S Club 7 had been given licence to explore his 'urban' side by a sympathetic record company executive.
But then something happened. I started listening to the lyrics. And all of a sudden I realised, this was not some happy happy joy joy Aussie S Club Party, this was The Real Thing. And it's a magical moment when you find The Real Thing in music. It's like...well, it's like falling in love.
I can recall the exact moment it happened. I was cooking in our kitchen, listening to the album for the umpteenth time that summer, and the track "Nothing" came on, and for the first time I heard, I really HEARD Harry singing, "A moment just to float/ To ponder and to dote/ To dry and to soak/ And to take a little toke of that Nothing/ Oh, sweet Nothing! mm-mmm/ Today we're doing Nothing at all!" - and I realised this was not a record, this was a call to arms.
Firstly, I must admit that I am, of course, biased. Let me tell you how. In the summer of 2005, I first started going out with the girl who is now my wife. That summer, we fell in love to a lot of music, 'Clouds' by Joni Mitchell was one (my CD), 'The Cat Empire' (the band's debut proper) was another (hers).
The girlfriend who is now my wife, Australian of course, kept playing me this CD, and I thought it at first a little cheesy, if I'm honest. Sure, the trumpet hooks were bouncy, fresh, and, well, hooky, and the record positively bounced out of the speakers, but on the first few casual listens the whole thing just sounded a bit 5ive-sy to my brought up in grey old England ears. A bit boyband pop, with seemingly arbitrarily placed scratching on it, as if Bradley from S Club 7 had been given licence to explore his 'urban' side by a sympathetic record company executive.
But then something happened. I started listening to the lyrics. And all of a sudden I realised, this was not some happy happy joy joy Aussie S Club Party, this was The Real Thing. And it's a magical moment when you find The Real Thing in music. It's like...well, it's like falling in love.
I can recall the exact moment it happened. I was cooking in our kitchen, listening to the album for the umpteenth time that summer, and the track "Nothing" came on, and for the first time I heard, I really HEARD Harry singing, "A moment just to float/ To ponder and to dote/ To dry and to soak/ And to take a little toke of that Nothing/ Oh, sweet Nothing! mm-mmm/ Today we're doing Nothing at all!" - and I realised this was not a record, this was a call to arms.
Five years down the line, and we've got three kids (Ryan, Felix and...Dylan - sorry Harry and the other guys, other obsessions of mine took priority there), and TCE have released their fourth official studio album, Cinema. And again I'm in love.
The first I heard of the album, I was laying sick in bed, and could only just make out the bass coming up through the floorboards, a terrible way to first hear such a long-anticipated album. It had arrived in the post that morning, and my wife had put it on in the kitchen while I lay trapped, clutching my groaning guts upstairs. The bass sounded good, but.
I came down at dinner time, and tried to listen to the whole thing properly, but the cacophony of my four-year-old twins' tantrums drowned it out, Dylan in particular howling banshee-style, recalling Harry on "Bring The Rain", from his fantastic limited release live solo album, 'Live from the Famous Spiegeltent'.
This was no good. Finally, I was back at work. Finally, a bit of quiet time. My 5.30am drive into London. I pushed the disc into my car's CD player, and proceeded to be blown away. Not in the same way I fell in love all those years ago, not in the same way as hearing the phenomenal 'Two Shoes' on my first trip to Oz, nor in the same way as when we went there again on honeymoon a couple of years later, with 'So Many Nights' on constant rotation. No, this was something different.
'Cinema' will no doubt confuse and perhaps even disappoint some Cat Empire fans. It's their moodiest record yet, full of brooding, clipped staccato trumpet lines, minor key melodies, and mournful lyrics. Yet I think it could be their most rewarding. Of course, many Cat Empire fans won't want to hear about a 'rewarding' new album. All many will want to know is where is that next catchy trumpet riff? And where are the songs about having fun all the time? Thankfully, the band have succeeded thus far into their career by not listening to their fans, nor presumably their record company, who no doubt would have loved ten more albums of "Hello Hello" style chirpiness, and instead rightfully chose to plough their own phunky phurrow.
The first thing that struck me about 'Cinema' was the quality of the musicianship. Anyone who has seen this band live will know "you're not talking to Ricky and the Red Streaks, y'know", as John Lennon once quipped about his little ol' band. "Lugubrious" is the word I would use to describe the sound of this band flexing its buff musical muscle. I'm not quite sure what "lugubrious" means, but it seems to fit. OK, have googled it now, that's not what I thought it meant, but that actual definition fits, too. If you don't know what "lugubrious" means, just make up your own definition, simply going on the sound of the word, perhaps say "lugubriousness" a few times to yourself, roll the word around your mouth, and you'll get the idea. Lugubrious, yeah, definitely.
Fellow Melbournite Steve Schram's production put an emphasis on getting a live take, and he reputedly offered them a total of three takes to get each song done, a challenge a band of this musical calibre and live playing experience took to with relish. Each song feels vital, literally bursting with life, as a result.
The album begins like we've come in late, the band were ready to play and just had to get started, or like someone just hit record in time to capture it all. We're thrust right into the action with "Waiting", a bluesy Felix special (though the songwriting credit would point to a more collaborative effort, as with nearly all of the tracks here), and he's not happy (sorry debut album fans). The band rip into life, announcing their intentions for the album, with a fast-paced, p*ssed off rant of a song, before some studio banter leads us into a somewhat more upbeat number, still in the minor key, with "Falling". With Jumps to the fore at the start of this tune, a funky paean to life on the road perhaps, with wonderful Mariachi-style horn from the Empire Horns, and a wonderful singalong chorus, which you just know is going to sound incredible live.
Straight into "Feeling's Gone", those three overdriven, pounded out opening chords a feature of this marvellous song, providing much of its power and ferocity. I needed this song after a hectic ending to a hectic week at work, and put it on as I drove out of the car-park at 5 o'clock, windows down like some teenage hoon, pounding along on the steering wheel to the half-time drums in the chorus. Will's playing on this album is phenomenal, understated, rock-steady, and packing plenty of oomph. "Feeling's Gone" for me recalls the best of that Lennon/McCartney duality of songwriting, not in any musical similarity necessarily, but it served to remind me of something like "We Can Work It Out", with strong verse/chorus sections provided by each songwriting partner, contrasting and blending beautifully all at the same time. A ferocious tour de force performance is captured on this song about finding hope where you thought there was none, and just getting on with it.
Harry's "Only Light" comes next, a moody, soulful love song, recalling a sort of midway point perhaps between some of his efforts on 'So Many Nights', like "Lonely Moon" and "Voodoo Cowboy", and some of the Jackson Jackson stuff, like "Eliza", but that much more mature and refined, and with killer harmonies to boot. The take that's been included here is beautiful, at times you can't quite make out what he's singing, which makes it all the more magical, and forces you to listen all the more intently.
The next tune, "All Hell", announces itself with a cacophony of piano, culminating in a beautiful and thunderous chord sequence, all minor sevenths and reverbed piano to the max, sounding bouncy and apocalyptic at the same time, to a lyric which I first assumed to be about a failed relationship. And perhaps there are elements of that still, but on closer listen here we have Felix with a rallying call to arms against the "I'm all right, Jack" attitude of global disasters all happening elsewhere, so we don't need to worry, when of course the next one could be right on our doorstep, so we better help out now, in the hope that others might step in at our time of need.
To my mind, there could also be another angle in the lyric of not taking the same stance in our personal relationships, not thinking everything's fine here, until it all falls apart and it's too late. A wonderfully complex lyric, with many a memorable phrase to pop into your head when you're least expecting it. If we are to take the Lennon/McCartney analogy further, and assume whoever's singing a particular section wrote that part, and that this is therefore Felix's lyric (the credit goes to him and Harry), then his lyric writing is growing more with every album. There have always been fine turns of phrase to admire from the very start ("All That Talking" - "Those words coming out/ Like froth on a stout", to the more recent "No Longer There" - "Now close your eyes and stare"), and here the lyric pours out with confidence and passion.
When I first heard "Shoulders", I thought, 'wow, that's an overly complicated rhythm, that'll never work'. Now it's become one of my favourites on the album. The band's musical muscle is really rippling and flexing with this one, a song about an old mate who's gone off the rails a few too many times, offering a hand of support if he's ever ready for it. When it slips into the chorus, the whole thing just grooves into life, with fantastic vocal harmonies and fantastic dub-style bassline from Ryan. The song has an actual separate real dub coda, with echoey piano, and an even more outrageous bassline from Mr Monro, who steals the show at the end. Before I'd got familiar with the lyric, I swore the song was called "Shoulders" 'cos that's the way it had to be danced to, and if you listen to it while shrugging yours up and down, you'll know what I mean. One of the many fantastic highlights on this album, and it's swiftly followed by another.
Keyboard chords and Harry's lilting voice lift us straight into his 'Cinema' tour de force, "The Heart Is A Cannibal". Such a beautiful melody, with such evocative lyrics. Again, a complex rhythmic structure explodes into what I can only lazily describe as an "Afrobeat"-style chorus, having not listened to nearly as much of that kind of music as I should have. Basically, this song has me dancing round the kitchen like a complete t*t every time, completely illogically to anyone who's watching, but I just can't get the rhythm out of my body quick enough, so there's a lot of hip-twisting, sort of tap-dancing, knee-slapping, and the occasional triple fist punch in the chorus, that has my wife, children and dog all howling with laughter on the floor, but I don't care. Thank you, Harry. A beautiful Mariachi-style trumpet harmony solo by Harry and the Horns rides the song to its climax in a head rush cacophony. And, yes, I do seem to spend a lot of time in my kitchen, don't I?
Next up is what we might see as a precursor to Felix's 2011 solo project (see www.felixriebl.com to sign up for info), a beautiful little reflective tune called "Reasonably Fine", about a couple who have split up, still love each other, and hoping that in the end they might be able to get along. It's a beautiful melody, with really honestly written lyrics, and the band comes into play really well, especially Will on the drums keeping it rock steady in sync with the lyrics, and a beautiful outro with he and Olly jamming out on drums and keys.
"Call Me Home" is another Felix call to arms, an upbeat, minor key song, trying to find order from the chaos, and togetherness from the loneliness. The uplifting chorus I can already imagine is a live favourite, and I can't wait to see what they do with it when I see them at Brixton in a couple of weeks' time. Apologies in advance to anyone I may inadvertently injure in the mosh.
Another upbeat number, "On My Way", again with Felix to the fore, leads us to the album's climax. Seemingly obtuse lyrics perhaps pointing to a justification of life on the road, and of living a life you want to lead, perhaps being the message here. The whole thing rips along at a pace, with a forceful musical steam train gathering pace not heard since The Kinks' "Last of the Steam-Powered Trains", whipping the chorus up into a frenzy.
This leads us to the final track, "Beyond All", which brings with it a completely new sound for the band famed for having an indescribable sound. A barrage of heavy chords, heavy bass, blips, squeaks, and reverby drums brings us into this musical thunder storm, where Harry's voice finally emerges, re-imagining the opening lyrics from his solo song from '...Spiegeltent', "Suburbia", into this neon nightmare depiction of life on god knows what planet. The repeated bassline, and droning two-chord pattern brings to mind "Tomorrow Never Knows" at the end of you-know-who's 'Revolver' album, and there is something of a lyrical similarity of searching for the unfindable that links the songs, too: "Break me/ Up until I'm pieces of sand/ Blow me up/ And scatter me across the land..."
The first I heard of the album, I was laying sick in bed, and could only just make out the bass coming up through the floorboards, a terrible way to first hear such a long-anticipated album. It had arrived in the post that morning, and my wife had put it on in the kitchen while I lay trapped, clutching my groaning guts upstairs. The bass sounded good, but.
I came down at dinner time, and tried to listen to the whole thing properly, but the cacophony of my four-year-old twins' tantrums drowned it out, Dylan in particular howling banshee-style, recalling Harry on "Bring The Rain", from his fantastic limited release live solo album, 'Live from the Famous Spiegeltent'.
This was no good. Finally, I was back at work. Finally, a bit of quiet time. My 5.30am drive into London. I pushed the disc into my car's CD player, and proceeded to be blown away. Not in the same way I fell in love all those years ago, not in the same way as hearing the phenomenal 'Two Shoes' on my first trip to Oz, nor in the same way as when we went there again on honeymoon a couple of years later, with 'So Many Nights' on constant rotation. No, this was something different.
'Cinema' will no doubt confuse and perhaps even disappoint some Cat Empire fans. It's their moodiest record yet, full of brooding, clipped staccato trumpet lines, minor key melodies, and mournful lyrics. Yet I think it could be their most rewarding. Of course, many Cat Empire fans won't want to hear about a 'rewarding' new album. All many will want to know is where is that next catchy trumpet riff? And where are the songs about having fun all the time? Thankfully, the band have succeeded thus far into their career by not listening to their fans, nor presumably their record company, who no doubt would have loved ten more albums of "Hello Hello" style chirpiness, and instead rightfully chose to plough their own phunky phurrow.
The first thing that struck me about 'Cinema' was the quality of the musicianship. Anyone who has seen this band live will know "you're not talking to Ricky and the Red Streaks, y'know", as John Lennon once quipped about his little ol' band. "Lugubrious" is the word I would use to describe the sound of this band flexing its buff musical muscle. I'm not quite sure what "lugubrious" means, but it seems to fit. OK, have googled it now, that's not what I thought it meant, but that actual definition fits, too. If you don't know what "lugubrious" means, just make up your own definition, simply going on the sound of the word, perhaps say "lugubriousness" a few times to yourself, roll the word around your mouth, and you'll get the idea. Lugubrious, yeah, definitely.
Fellow Melbournite Steve Schram's production put an emphasis on getting a live take, and he reputedly offered them a total of three takes to get each song done, a challenge a band of this musical calibre and live playing experience took to with relish. Each song feels vital, literally bursting with life, as a result.
The album begins like we've come in late, the band were ready to play and just had to get started, or like someone just hit record in time to capture it all. We're thrust right into the action with "Waiting", a bluesy Felix special (though the songwriting credit would point to a more collaborative effort, as with nearly all of the tracks here), and he's not happy (sorry debut album fans). The band rip into life, announcing their intentions for the album, with a fast-paced, p*ssed off rant of a song, before some studio banter leads us into a somewhat more upbeat number, still in the minor key, with "Falling". With Jumps to the fore at the start of this tune, a funky paean to life on the road perhaps, with wonderful Mariachi-style horn from the Empire Horns, and a wonderful singalong chorus, which you just know is going to sound incredible live.
Straight into "Feeling's Gone", those three overdriven, pounded out opening chords a feature of this marvellous song, providing much of its power and ferocity. I needed this song after a hectic ending to a hectic week at work, and put it on as I drove out of the car-park at 5 o'clock, windows down like some teenage hoon, pounding along on the steering wheel to the half-time drums in the chorus. Will's playing on this album is phenomenal, understated, rock-steady, and packing plenty of oomph. "Feeling's Gone" for me recalls the best of that Lennon/McCartney duality of songwriting, not in any musical similarity necessarily, but it served to remind me of something like "We Can Work It Out", with strong verse/chorus sections provided by each songwriting partner, contrasting and blending beautifully all at the same time. A ferocious tour de force performance is captured on this song about finding hope where you thought there was none, and just getting on with it.
Harry's "Only Light" comes next, a moody, soulful love song, recalling a sort of midway point perhaps between some of his efforts on 'So Many Nights', like "Lonely Moon" and "Voodoo Cowboy", and some of the Jackson Jackson stuff, like "Eliza", but that much more mature and refined, and with killer harmonies to boot. The take that's been included here is beautiful, at times you can't quite make out what he's singing, which makes it all the more magical, and forces you to listen all the more intently.
The next tune, "All Hell", announces itself with a cacophony of piano, culminating in a beautiful and thunderous chord sequence, all minor sevenths and reverbed piano to the max, sounding bouncy and apocalyptic at the same time, to a lyric which I first assumed to be about a failed relationship. And perhaps there are elements of that still, but on closer listen here we have Felix with a rallying call to arms against the "I'm all right, Jack" attitude of global disasters all happening elsewhere, so we don't need to worry, when of course the next one could be right on our doorstep, so we better help out now, in the hope that others might step in at our time of need.
To my mind, there could also be another angle in the lyric of not taking the same stance in our personal relationships, not thinking everything's fine here, until it all falls apart and it's too late. A wonderfully complex lyric, with many a memorable phrase to pop into your head when you're least expecting it. If we are to take the Lennon/McCartney analogy further, and assume whoever's singing a particular section wrote that part, and that this is therefore Felix's lyric (the credit goes to him and Harry), then his lyric writing is growing more with every album. There have always been fine turns of phrase to admire from the very start ("All That Talking" - "Those words coming out/ Like froth on a stout", to the more recent "No Longer There" - "Now close your eyes and stare"), and here the lyric pours out with confidence and passion.
When I first heard "Shoulders", I thought, 'wow, that's an overly complicated rhythm, that'll never work'. Now it's become one of my favourites on the album. The band's musical muscle is really rippling and flexing with this one, a song about an old mate who's gone off the rails a few too many times, offering a hand of support if he's ever ready for it. When it slips into the chorus, the whole thing just grooves into life, with fantastic vocal harmonies and fantastic dub-style bassline from Ryan. The song has an actual separate real dub coda, with echoey piano, and an even more outrageous bassline from Mr Monro, who steals the show at the end. Before I'd got familiar with the lyric, I swore the song was called "Shoulders" 'cos that's the way it had to be danced to, and if you listen to it while shrugging yours up and down, you'll know what I mean. One of the many fantastic highlights on this album, and it's swiftly followed by another.
Keyboard chords and Harry's lilting voice lift us straight into his 'Cinema' tour de force, "The Heart Is A Cannibal". Such a beautiful melody, with such evocative lyrics. Again, a complex rhythmic structure explodes into what I can only lazily describe as an "Afrobeat"-style chorus, having not listened to nearly as much of that kind of music as I should have. Basically, this song has me dancing round the kitchen like a complete t*t every time, completely illogically to anyone who's watching, but I just can't get the rhythm out of my body quick enough, so there's a lot of hip-twisting, sort of tap-dancing, knee-slapping, and the occasional triple fist punch in the chorus, that has my wife, children and dog all howling with laughter on the floor, but I don't care. Thank you, Harry. A beautiful Mariachi-style trumpet harmony solo by Harry and the Horns rides the song to its climax in a head rush cacophony. And, yes, I do seem to spend a lot of time in my kitchen, don't I?
Next up is what we might see as a precursor to Felix's 2011 solo project (see www.felixriebl.com to sign up for info), a beautiful little reflective tune called "Reasonably Fine", about a couple who have split up, still love each other, and hoping that in the end they might be able to get along. It's a beautiful melody, with really honestly written lyrics, and the band comes into play really well, especially Will on the drums keeping it rock steady in sync with the lyrics, and a beautiful outro with he and Olly jamming out on drums and keys.
"Call Me Home" is another Felix call to arms, an upbeat, minor key song, trying to find order from the chaos, and togetherness from the loneliness. The uplifting chorus I can already imagine is a live favourite, and I can't wait to see what they do with it when I see them at Brixton in a couple of weeks' time. Apologies in advance to anyone I may inadvertently injure in the mosh.
Another upbeat number, "On My Way", again with Felix to the fore, leads us to the album's climax. Seemingly obtuse lyrics perhaps pointing to a justification of life on the road, and of living a life you want to lead, perhaps being the message here. The whole thing rips along at a pace, with a forceful musical steam train gathering pace not heard since The Kinks' "Last of the Steam-Powered Trains", whipping the chorus up into a frenzy.
This leads us to the final track, "Beyond All", which brings with it a completely new sound for the band famed for having an indescribable sound. A barrage of heavy chords, heavy bass, blips, squeaks, and reverby drums brings us into this musical thunder storm, where Harry's voice finally emerges, re-imagining the opening lyrics from his solo song from '...Spiegeltent', "Suburbia", into this neon nightmare depiction of life on god knows what planet. The repeated bassline, and droning two-chord pattern brings to mind "Tomorrow Never Knows" at the end of you-know-who's 'Revolver' album, and there is something of a lyrical similarity of searching for the unfindable that links the songs, too: "Break me/ Up until I'm pieces of sand/ Blow me up/ And scatter me across the land..."
The song, and the album, finishes with a single extended piano note, which if you're listening on a CD player or iPod on repeat, is the very same note that we are launched into at the start of the album, so it kind of begs to be listened to again straight away, and can almost be heard as a circular piece with no beginning or no end, fitting somehow, in this age of iPod uber-shuffling.
And yet I hope people buy this on CD, 'cos it sounds so much better than from a tinny iTunes I promise you, and the songs should be played in the order the band intended, I feel. 'Cinema' is a beautiful album that rewards repeated listening.
If this is this their 'Revolver' album, I can only wait in anticipation for their Sgt Pepper, their Abbey Road, White Album, disappointing break-up album and the inevitable impending legal battles. 'Cos for me, The Cat Empire are the Australian Beatles, not in the main through any musical comparative sense, though certainly there are some links, but only in that they are the best band to ever emerge from their country so far.
If this is this their 'Revolver' album, I can only wait in anticipation for their Sgt Pepper, their Abbey Road, White Album, disappointing break-up album and the inevitable impending legal battles. 'Cos for me, The Cat Empire are the Australian Beatles, not in the main through any musical comparative sense, though certainly there are some links, but only in that they are the best band to ever emerge from their country so far.
