The Null Device Blog

Another year, another mix of tracks that stuck in my brain during the year.

Download it! – as one big mp3 or a bunch of little ones that you can gaplessly play back.

This year:

1) Midival Punditz – Atomizer
2) Bassnectar – Churn of the Century
3) Gusgus – Add This Song/Simian Mobile Disco – Audacity of Huge
4) Crystal Method (feat. Emily Haines) – Come Back Clean
5) Deadmau5 (feat. Rob Swire)- Ghosts ‘n Stuff
6) Mark Knight & D. Ramirez (feat. Karl Hyde) – Downpipe
7) Flight of the Conchords – Too Many Dicks (On the Dance Floor)
8) Empire of the Sun – We Are The People
9) Royksopp (feat. Robyn) – The Girl and the Robot
10) Orbital – Halcyon (Tom Middleton Re-model)
11) Bell X1 – The Great Defector
12) Nadia Ali – Fine Print
13) Metric – Help I’m Alive
14) IAMX (feat. Imogen Heap) – My Secret Friend
15) Stripmall Architecture – Stop Thief
16) Bear McCreary – All Along the Watchtower

Best Album I Released This Year:  Null Device – Recursions
Oooh, a tough category this year.  But Recursions clearly won out over the competition, by dint of the fact that it was really the only one.  It’s also available for download from nulldevice.bandcamp.com

Best Underworld Track That Wasn’t By Underworld: Mark Knight and D. Ramirez feat Karl Hyde – Downpipe
Seriously, a complete banger of a track.  Hyde’s strange cut-and-paste lyrics nicely complement an already pretty decent progressive house track.

Scandinavians Attack, pt. 1:  Royksopp – Junior
A more focused effort by Royksopp, despite the presence of all sorts of different guest vocalists, it seems more cohesive than previous outings.   Some truly catchy, albeit slightly off kilter, tracks define this album, and there’s a noticeable lack of the kind of jambandish meanderings than marred their earlier releases.

Scandinavians Attack, pt 2 The Revenge: Gusgus – 24/7
GG gets their old lead singer back and finds a home on Kompakt, which seems a good fit.  Daniel Agust’s distinctive voice grounds their new album in a way their non-Agust albums couldn’t quite manage.  Their minimalish, Detroit techno sound fits well with the Kompakt family as well.  The main criticism of this album is the same as many later Gusgus releases – the songs go on too long.  “Add This Song”, the single off the album, works great as a 4-minute pop song, but gets annoying after the 7 minute mark.

That Weird Girl You Knew In High School Award: Imogen Heap – Ellipse
Imogen Heap has become the darling of new media as she twittered and vlogged and 12seconded her way through the production of the new album.  She also became the poster child for the DIY artist, writing, performing and engineering nearly everything on her album, earning her feature interviews with the likes of SoundOnSound and Electronic Musician – no small feat for someone who is essentially a singer-songwriter at the core.  So, media aside, how’s the album?  Well, it’s good, and it’s beautiful, and it’s intricate, and it’s enigmatic, and it’s everything you’d expect from a hardcore tech-nerd who also happens to have wacky hair and a penchant for wearing fake feathers.  It does, however lack some of the immediacy and emotional impact of her previous efforts.  One gets the distinct sense that everything on this album is intricately crafted with forethought, which robs some of the tracks of resonance.   It’s still gorgeous to listen to, though.

Shuffling On This Mortal Coil (parte the firste): Claire Voyant – Lustre
I know how irritating it can be as an artist to be told your music sounds like something out of the 80’s.  Certainly, I struggle with that a lot.  In the case of CV, I can say it sounds like something out of the 80’s in the absolute best possible way.  In the mid-late 80’s, that swoony, melodic, shimmery 4AD sound began to take hold…before it was entirely obliterated by shoegazer and grunge, so it never really got its day in court.  Lustre brings that sound back in full force, making you understand what would’ve happened had it been allowed to progress over a decade or two.  Still the glimmery guitars, still the majestic synths, still the dreamy vocals, but with ballsier production and less of the twee-pop sound that those early 4AD recordings often had.

Shuffling On This Mortal Coil (parte the seconde): Stripmall Architecture – We Were Flying Kites
Another band in the “what would happen if Ivo Watts-Russell and Jon Fryer were still doing that thing today” category.   Stripmall Architecture takes a slightly different tack, with a bit more of a rock edge and some sonic nods to the glitch-pop sound, like if Jimmy Tamborello and Dean Garcia suddenly joined the Cocteau Twins.  Sharp songwriting and incisive lyrics elevate this beyond the “conceptually interesting” level to something that holds up extraordinarily well to repeated close listening.

I Did Not Expect This To Be So Good: Metric – Fantasies
It’s hard for me to listen to this album all the way through.   Not because it’s bad, but because I’m completely enraptured by the first track, “Help, I’m Alive” and I want to put it on repeat.  The song switches back and forth from ominous to spunky on a dime,  and is filled with monster hooks.  The rest of the album is kinda like that too, but “Help” is so damn good I’ve almost entirely forgotten what comes after it.

New Zealand’s Fourth Best Comedy Folk Album: Flight of the Conchords – I Told You I Was Freaky
Nothing on the album quite measures up to “Business Time” or  “Bowie”, there are still some fabulously funny tracks on this album.  “Too Many Dicks (On The Dancefloor)” is a prime example of what FOTC do so well – they ape a style without directly parodying a song.

My Alt-Country Girlfriend: Neko Case – Middle Cyclone
This time out, her songs are a little less straightforward, and a little more fleshed-out than her previous works.  Given how well that Spartan aesthetic has worked for her in the past, it’s risky for her to layer instruments and production over her voice.  But it works.  Boy does it work.  Her voice still soars over strings and bells and helicopter guitars.  There are still a few tracks of her trademark sparse country-noir sound.  And that voice.  That voice!

Kingdom of Welcome Followup Albums: IAMX – Kingdom of Welcome Addiction
It’s pretty much what we’d expect from IAMX – enigmatic, bombastic songs of loss and addiction. It’s a bit more emotional than “The Alternative” and it feels slightly more harrowing to listen to.

Almost, But Not Quite, a New Order Album: Bad Lieutenant – Never Cry Another Tear
It’s hard to have much of an opinion on this one.  Bernard Sumner and the non-Peter-Hook members of late-period New Order (well, occasionally – Stephen Morris isn’t on every track).  It sounds a little like New Order without Hook’s high-fret basswork, but not quite.  Maybe like a set of B-sides from Electronic’s second album.

Daybreak: Bear McCreary – Battlestar Galactica Season Four Original Soundtrack
A sprawling 2-disc sequence featuring music from the fourth season, and the series finale, in which McCreary pulls out all the stops.  More ethnic instruments, more orchestra, more electric violin, more taikos.   Every theme from the series, and some from the original series, seem to come into play, overlapping and interplaying.  Whatever opinions critics may have had of the finale or even the final season, the soundtrack is fairly unimpeachable.

Back to the Roots: BT- Rose of Jericho
While I have this sinking feeling, given the title of his upcoming album (“These Hopeful Machines”) and the pattern he’s taking for his new cover art, that BT’s next full-length may devolve into over-produced synthesizer acrobatics rather than accessible songs,  “Rose of Jericho” is a smashing trance track, full of bleepy hooks and a solid four-on-the floor rhythm.   Oh, sure, it’s rife with stutter edits and meticulously programmed effects, but it’s still a dance track like he used to write, not some attempt to be a rmicroquantized rock god or a modernized Wendy Carlos.

Change of Direction: AFI – Crash Love
AFI ditches a lot of the bombast and sing-along choruses of Decemberunderground for a more traditional punk-pop structure.  But…well, it doesn’t quite work.  It’s not bad, but after the soaring hooks of DU, it all feels a little forced.

What Is The Deal With Australians?  Empire of The Sun – Walking on a Dream
It’s perplexing, given that their single was also the title track of their first album.  It’s also perplexing that a band with a distinct visual concept of “bad 80’s scifi/fantasy film” and a sonic aesthetic to match, and a lead singer who sounds like he’s being pulled through Limahl’s nasal cavities would be so…good.   The chugging retro synths, the 1980’s drum machines, the jangly guitars the falsetto choruses, all belie a sharply modern edge in the production and songwriting.

Best Crackhead Rant-based Song: Bogart Shwadchuck – Ben The Rat
What can you really say about a dubstep wobbler featuring a sample of a deranged crackhead repeating “Butt-naked wonda, big brotha thunda, and the master blaster!” among other bizarre nonsequiturs?  It’s just ridiculous and fun.

Wait, What?: MIDIval PunditZ – Hello Hello
I’d heard MP ages ago.  They were okay, one of those Asian Massive bands that threw drum-n-bass beats over tabla.   They didn’t really do a whole a lot for me.  One a lark, while browsing the CD racks at a bookstore, I saw this album and gave it a listen.  I was quite frankly stunned.  Tracks like “Electric Universe” and “Atomizer” are grungy electro, rife with vocoders and strong tech-house beats over the Indian roots.  I know from experience that it’s hard to make that work – when done wrong it can be a complete trainwreck.  This manages to work.

Most Egregious Use of Peter Hook:  The Crystal Method – Divided by Night
The latest entry from The Crystal Method crew isn’t a bad album by any means.  It’s not as edgy as their earlier works, but it’s a pretty decent album.  Peter Hook, now that he’s free of New Order, seems to be showing up everywhere, and he shows up on a few tracks.   He seems to show up, cash a paycheck, and then go home – his basslines are his usual high-neck bass-noodling, but without the grounding of a New Order song structure it sounds more like he’s just doing finger exercises.

Ludicrous Earworm: Das Racist – Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell
Dear god, this song is ridiculous, and catchy.   It’s dumb, dumb music, but completely manages to hook itself into your head.  It’s practically a cultural phenomenon.

The band press kit or one-sheet is like the band photo – it’s a necessary evil.  You’re gunna come off looking like a douchebag no matter what, but you still need to do it.    It’s a lot like a resume in that you can’t get a job without one, you can’t outright lie on it, but you have to polish it to make your accomplishments sound kind of awesome,  and you have to walk that fine line of polishing without insulting the intelligence of the reader.  In the end, you want to have a passable press sheet, since it’s going to be your first foot forward to promoters and if you’re consistent it’ll be the basis for your web presence, press reviews, etc.

I’ll admit know that I’ve written some bad ones.  I’ve certainly read some bad ones, and some even worse ones.  I have also read some good ones, and what follows are some tips I’ve gleaned from those.  I don’t know if I’ve written a good one yet, but I’m trying.  I’ve written a lot of resumes, though and the same sort of tips apply.

1. Be direct. You’ve got a page, tops, to say who you are, what sort of music you make, maybe a few press clippings.  If you spend half of the page exclaiming that you’re the most awesome band ever before anybody has a clue why they should even care, you’ve lost.
2. Good grammar costs nothing. Seriously, people, do you want the primary representation of your musical endeavor to read like it was written by a 7th-grader?   You may be tempted to pepper it with l33tspeek or try and sound like PsychicTV by using “thee” and “ov.”  Don’t.  It’s not cute anymore.  It might be genre-appropriate to use some colloquialisms or slang – if you’re a dubstep act, using the word “wobble” is fine, for example, or if you’re Dizzee Rascal, you can occasionally use the word “wiv.”  Still, it’s dodgy.  Some promoters and the general public may catch on, others may just think you can’t use a spell-checker.
3. You are not a genre-defying, uncategorizable, one-of-a-kind band. Nobody, nobody believes that when they read it, so don’t bother to write it.  Even if, on the off chance you are a genre-bending totally unique act, it’s just not something you can come out and say.  You are not redefining anything, recontextualizing anything, or reinventing anything.  You can describe what you do.  If you can describe your sound well, that’s a stronger advertisement for your work than any “reinvention” BS.
4. Nobody cares who mastered or engineered your last album, or what gear it was recorded on – unless of course those people or gear are coming with you on tour or are always going to be working with you.  This is a reasonably new development, and I’m not sure where it came from.  I’m starting to see a number of acts who spend far too much time detailing exactly what sort of mixing board or synthesizer or producer or engineer was involved.  Trainspotters like me may think it’s cool, but unless it somehow contributes to the overall perception of your band, it’s not worth the space.  The rare exception to this is the producer, since they can have a direct impact on your sound, but even then they have to be established enough for it to make a difference.  For example, if your producer was, say, Brian Eno or someone of that stature – those guys don’t need your money, they have to like you first.

   Basically, you don’t sell your house by listing the plumber.

5. An aesthetic is a tricky thing to work with. If you’re a band with a specific visual identity, you have a tough line to walk.  What a band looks like won’t sell records, and while a stage act may bring bodies to a show, it’s really hard to sell that line to a promoter who’s only got a demo CD and a single photo to go on.   It’s even harder if your look doesn’t match the music – if by design you’re a techno band that dresses up in 14th-century Italianate costumes, well, that may be your thing but an unfamiliar reader is going to just see “schtick.”  Some descriptions are going to sound played-out or bandwagon-y no matter what you do, or no matter how true they are, too.  It’s best to leave that for later.
6. Who you’ve opened for needs to be relevant – and true. If you’re going to say you’ve played with U2, you’d better have opened for U2 and not just played the “Bob’s Grocery Local Talent Stage” at the same enormous music festival  as them.  It’s ridiculously easy to look this stuff up, and if someone can call bullshit on any small part of your presskit, the whole thing gets tossed.  Similarly, even if you did open for someone reasonably respected, it should likely be something that has some cache – opening for the “Pet Sounds” Beach Boys is a vastly different thing from opening for the “Kokomo” Beach Boys, for example.
7. If you’ve been a dick to someone, leave their name off your presskit. If you played a gig with another band, if you didn’t get along or they wouldn’t remember you, don’t namecheck them.  Unless we’re talking about the Rolling Stones, a promoter in your genre is probably going to have the ability to call up and check.  “Hey, yeah, Tom…these Null Device guys…oh, they’re asshats?  Thanks.”  Or worse “Hey, Tom, these Null Device guys…Null Device.   With an N.  No, Device.  So you don’t remember them?  They claimed to have played with you…huh. [click].”
8. Be consistent. A well-written onesheet can serve as a promotional tool in a lot of situations.  If you use the same, or at least very similar, language and content on your website, your myspace, your facebook, your demo, etc, you’re going to put forth a nicely professional and hopefully well-thought-out image.  Obviously certain media will require some tweaking, but the point is simply that tying it all together means you don’t ever have to worry about contradictory or confusing information anywhere a promoter, label honcho, distributor or even a fan might look.  It also saves you a lot of work.
9. A little informality is okay. While this is like a resume, this isn’t a resume.  You don’t have to write it like an insurance policy.  That said, you don’t want to go too far in the other direction.    You’re still trying to sell something, in this case your music, you’re not trying to get a pen pal.
10. Try to focus on the now. This is a tough one, since by definition your previous glories are what are making you attractive to a promoter or label.  There is, however, a limit.  It’s one thing to talk about your last album, or your last two albums.  To reference something you did 15 years ago?  Unless it was something massive that still has repercussions today (or this is a comeback tour for a band that was huge in the 80’s) it’s going to give the distinct impression that you’ve not done much noteworthy since.
11. Edit.  Edit, edit, edit, edit. Pretend this is your final term paper in high school.  It’s got to be spot-on.  Check it over a zillion times.  Have a friend read it.  Get opinions from people you trust.  Anything awkward-sounding, or poorly-written, is going to jump out and distract the reader.  There are still enough grammar fascists and orthography tyrants in the world that there’s a not-insignificant chance that one of them may be on the receiving end.  A misplaced comma or [gasp] quotes used for emphasis instead of facetiousness is going to jump out and be the Thing That They Remember.
12. Don’t expect everyone to know what the heck you’re talking about. While you can assume a certain level of commonality and familiarity on musical genres, if your references and definitions are so obscure or bleeding edge – or worse, you un-ironically coin a genre name for yourself – you’re going to get the promotion equivalent of a blank stare.  It’s the trickiest part of writing up self-referential press; you know what you do, but you have to write for the perspective of someone who has no idea who your references, influences, and baselines are.
13. Go easy on the comparisons. A few are alright, and in fact probably necessary if you’re just starting out.  It’s okay to say you’re influenced by Depeche Mode or Kraftwerk or the Beatles or whatever.  But don’t go nuts.  This is still about you, so a paragraph of your influences is probably overdoing it.  If your sound-description is clear enough,  you can reign back even further – everyone can pretty much take an influence to kraftwerk as read if you describe yourself as making minimal techno.  Too much and you’re wasting space that could be used for your own stuff, and additionally it could be setting the distinct impression on the reader that you’re just not that original.