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- Readers recommend: discordant songs
Whether deliberately obscure or just plain amateurish, sometimes the best tunes are, well, out of tune. Nominate your favourites here
Not all great records feature superb playing by brilliant musicians. In fact some achieve greatness while also being cack-handed and cacophonous. They don't have to be punks. Virtuoso musicians, experimenters and amateurs all have reasons for deliberate discordance.
There are artists – entire genres, even – whose appeal lies (at least in part) in being technically out of tune. But sometimes being discordant is accidental. Even the greatest musicians hit an occasional bum note. These moments are to be cherished, and can actually improve a record.
A couple of weeks ago, during a discussion with Readers Recommend people about the relative merits of the Kinks' and the Raincoats' versions of Lola, I was accused of believing that "being a 'musician' and 'in tune' are all that matters". That's not actually my position, but some people think that. So let's show them what they're missing.
The toolbox:
* This week's collaborative Spotify playlist
* The RR archive
* The Marconium (blog containing a wealth of data on RR)
* The Spill (blog for the RR community)
Please do:
* Post your nominations before midday on Tuesday if you wish them to be considered.
* Write a few lines attempting to justify your choices.
But please don't:
* Post more than one third of the lyrics of any song.
* Dump lists of nominations. If you must post more than two or three at once, please attempt to justify your choices.
Here are the results of last week's Readers recommend: B-sides.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2011 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - The White Stripes: How I got caught up in their fire and fury
My decision to take a road trip across the American midwest was all down to one group – the White Stripes. Not since the Pixies had I felt such a visceral need for a rock'n'roll band
A little after 7am, somewhere on the road between Cleveland and Detroit, we had the stereo cranked up loud, playing the White Stripes. "Maybe Jasper does the astro," the speakers fuzzed. "Maybe Jasper does the astro. Maybe Jasper does the astro, astro."
That spring, my best friend and I made a musical pilgrimage to the American midwest. It was not a commonplace trip and news of it was largely met with befuddlement. "You came all the way from London to Detroit on holiday?" the customs official asked us at the airport. "Why would you want to come to Detroit?"
There were many reasons to visit Detroit. We were fascinated by its history, the legacy of General Motors, the riots of 1967, the architecture, the stately buildings said to have been left to ruin, and the burnt-out homes and the steam that rose up from deep in the belly of the city. But mostly we went to Detroit because of the music – Motown, the Stooges, the MC5 – and because it was the city that was home to the band we loved more than any other: the White Stripes.
It wasn't that we went there on a mission to meet them (although we did meet them, and were struck dumb in their presence), rather it was because it seemed important, then, to connect the place to the music. They were the type of band who could intrigue you that way, who inspired a fierce devotion. I knew from the first moment I heard their debut album that I hadn't felt such a visceral need for a band since the Pixies and, before them, the Velvet Underground.
Yesterday's announcement that the White Stripes are no more brings a sad finality. They haven't released an album since 2007's Icky Thump, but while Jack took other adventures, with the Raconteurs and the Dead Weather, and most recently with Wanda Jackson, there was always hope in their continued existence and the thought that they might one day record or play live again.
I have met them many times since that spring in Detroit. I have drunk with them, danced with them, laughed with them. I have sat in late-night bars and discussed the merits of Lonnie Donegan with them, but I never told them what their band has meant to me.
The White Stripes formed in 1997 and released their debut album in 1999, dedicating it to Son House. It was raw and lo-fi, yet somehow gigantic. Though I would become devoted to their later albums – De Stijl and White Blood Cells in particular, as well as to Elephant, Get Behind Me Satan and Icky Thump – it is to their first album I have returned most often; a reminder, perhaps, of the sheer shock of first hearing them, of everything that I loved about their music – stripped-back, dangerous, funny and wonderful.
Live, they were the most electrifying band you could imagine. It was always staggering that two people could create such a ferocious and blistering sound. The way Jack White played guitar, you could never decide if it was evil or righteous, pure or devilish. The way he sang made the room stop. People have a lot to say about Meg White's drumming, and though there are fancier drummers out there, the way she played built the White Stripes' foundations, and the energy between them, the force, the bond, something that was a little deeper, a little darker than love, made them utterly compelling.
To me, they belong now to a magic 13 years. I am glad to have been alive in a time that bore them, to have had the chance to see them play, to have been there to witness how they changed music, how they reignited it, how they gave it a fire and fury.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2011 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - Hear the Streets' Computers and Blues – Album Stream
The Streets fifth – and final, if reports are to be believed – album is here. Have a listen and let us know what you think ...
We don't want Mike Skinner to stop making Streets albums but reports suggest this could be the last one. So enjoy it. It's really rather good. And while you're at it, watch out for some Mike Skinner-based antics on guardian.co.uk/music next week. Rumour has it he'll be pacing our corridors with a camcorder and causing mayhem in the canteen ...
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2011 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - New music: Echo Lake – Young Silence
Echo Lake make moody lo-fi indie, but film-maker and hacker Daniel Nixon is the real star of their new video
London-based five-piece Echo Lake make the kind of lo-fi Jesus & Mary Chain-indebted guitar noise that suggests moody Monday mornings. Young Silence rattles along nicely, all agitated guitars and sweetly crooned vocals, but the real star is the video. Created by film-maker Daniel Nixon it was made using the Microsoft Kinect (a "controller-free gaming and entertainment experience" for the Xbox 360). We're none too technical, but apparently Nixon somehow hacked the console to create these weird visuals, and very nice it is too. The video has been compared to a lo-fi version of Radiohead's ground-breaking House of Cards, except that this only cost £130 to make.Young Silence is taken from the EP of the same name, due on 14 February.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2011 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать
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