Daily Archive

Right, hold on to all of your clothes, because I’m about to blow them right off using the power of hyperbole.  It is highly likely that this will be one of the records of the year in the end-of-year charts of anyone with any idea about what they are doing (i.e. me, and I can’t wait to do that first chart.  I’m so excited that I may just do it now, inventing some fictitious records to cover the last 3 months of the year. NB no-one releases records in December except Robbie Williams and Daniel O’Donnell, and they are unlikely to feature heavily).

The traditional Necks release contains one hour long slab of gently evolving trio improvisation, building up like a sonic Buckaroo from sparse beginnings – a slow, simple, bass riff for example – and adding layers gradually until the piece collapses.  It was somewhat of a surprise to see three twenty minute tracks listed on the back of Chemist, making it virtually A Hard Day’s Night or Rocket to Russia by the Necks’ monolithic standards.

It was even more of a surprise to hear first track “Fatal” hit the ground at considerable speed.   A sick four-note bass figure, repeating obsessively like something from the Jack Johnson sessions (regular readers will surmise that this is a Miles Davis reference, and not one to the as yet unreleased studio out-takes where the dull Hawaiian singer-songwriter jams with Cecil Taylor, Chuck D and Christian Fennesz) underpins beautiful rolling and tumbling piano; coming across like the livelier moments of the Triosk catalogue [ERROR: Microsoft Excel cannot calculate a formula.  Cell references in the formula refer to the formula’s result, creating a circular reference].  The track churns, coiling in on itself concentrically, adding guitar and static noise until the tension becomes unbearable.  Crescendo is threatened, but the track (the big tease!) is unwilling to provide release.

After such excitement, the muted bass and bleep introduction to “Buoyant” is considerable relief.  Slowly, and almost imperceptibly, understated flickers of piano melody are grafted on, along with half-heard high-pitched squeaky wheel noises.  Eventually, drummer Tony Buck flies over, carpet bombing Tony Williams-esque figures over the last five minutes of the track.  The overall effect is like a telescoping of one of their epic works into a twenty minute piece.

Closer “Abillera” clinches the deal, and may well be my favourite thing of this year so far.  It begins, appropriately enough, with an introduction akin to one of Jimmy Garrison’s to Coltrane’s later hyper-inflated versions of “My Favourite Things”.  The bass gradually feels its way in to the tune, where it is joined by shimmering Steve Reichian piano and guitar.  Proper funky drumming is dropped into place around the seven minute mark, allowing The Necks to motor along with huge grins on their faces for the remainder.  If this irrepressible iridescence had carried on for an hour, it wouldn’t have been long enough for me; it is one almightily addictive sugar rush. 

Go buy.  Best put your clothes back on first though.