20 Years of the Mercury Prize - Winners Poll

Those were extra verses of "What have you done today to make you feel proud" though.

xpost TIMING!

Ah, okay. No need to put down her previous work because of that, though! I mean, Thriller is still a great album even if you don't approve of Micheal Jackson's caviar smuggling ring.

(xx-post)

What's wrong with Heather Small's voice?!

We don't like it, so there

You're the Queen?

At one point Heather actually got paid by Woolworths to search for the Aero inside your coat iirc

Heather Small's voice obviously isn't as bad as say, the gargly bloke from Gomez, but everything else on that album is so obviously inept that it's barely a talking point, whereas I usually love euphoric early 90s diva house so the voice getting in the way becomes twice as annoying.

The word "foghorn" comes to mind, not as strongly as when listening to Florence + the Machine but...

She had a TV show over here where she read out the names of anybody convicted of shoplifting during the last week, it put a lot of people off her Tuomas.

― placeholder for weak pun (Noodle Vague), Thursday, September 8, 2011

This doens't tell the whole story, think you are being kind of disingenuous here, Payne Stewart out of the arctic monkeys was also on that show and I don't recall him getting the same levels of criticism

Wait, I don't get it? You hate her voice because everything else on the album is worse than it? What?

She's the Dorothy Squires of "euphoric early 90s diva house", that's a reference you should have no trouble with I am sure, Tuomas

Wait, I don't get it? You hate her voice because everything else on the album is worse than it? What?

No I mean the exact opposite. I was talking about the Gomez album where everything else is as bad as the voice.

Also, anyone repping for the XX album please remember that this is David Cameron's sex music.

1992: Primal Scream - Screamadelica
Voted this one cos I've been listening to it again. By no means the monster of a record it was made out to be and the second side has one too many sandbags. Still, as a Weatherall advocate, I have to give it its dues.

1993: Suede - Suede
Not heard the whole thing. I quite like the singles off of it. I always feel as though I have to check over my shoulder with one hand hovering over ALT-TAB button when I listen to these guys.

1994: M People - Elegant Slumming
A bit smooth and adult for me - makes me think of people trying out sofas in DFS. At least it's not the Lighthouse Family. I liked "Don't Look any Further" when it came out - sounded like the Sanatogen advert - but didn't realise it was a cover for a long time. "One Night In Heaven" and "Moving On Up" are more refreshing and upbeat than I remember them.

1995: Portishead - Dummy
I actually owned this at the time. This and The Bends were my teenage misery soundtracks, so I've never gone back to Dummy at all.

1996: Pulp - Different Class
Have never actually listened to this all the way through - Pulp are a one-song-at-a-time band for me. A true singles band.

1997: Roni Size / Reprazent - New Forms
Coffeetable Jungle. Apart from one or two tracks I always despised this for putting an acceptable face on drum'n'bass. Polishing up all the ruff edges and adding jazz-wank live instrumentation just goes against my values, basically.

1998: Gomez - Bring It On
Meh, I only heard a couple of songs off it. It was okay I guess. Pretty unremarkable students-go-blues.

1999: Talvin Singh - OK
Not heard it. I'm sure it's "OK", woo-hoop!

2000: Badly Drawn Boy - The Hour Of Bewilderbeast
A load of fucking bullshit.

2001: P J Harvey - Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea
Already expressed my feelings about PJ. Trying to rectify it through increased exposure.

2002: Ms. Dynamite - A Little Deeper
I like everything I've heard, but not check this yet.

2003: Dizzee Rascal - Boy In Da Corner
2003 was a weird year for me when I pretty much missed out on any new music. As such I'm ashamed to say I haven't heard this.

2004: Franz Ferdinand - Franz Ferdinand
Not my cup o'cha.

2005: Antony and the Johnsons - I Am A Bird Now
Passable.

2006: Arctic Monkeys - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not
Arctic Shitkeys

2007: The Klaxons - Myths Of The Near Future
The Cacksons more like

2008: Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid
Zzzzz.....

2009: Speech Debelle - Speech Therapy
Me neither..

2010: the xx - XX
Cold cold music. Never quite got into this.

2011: PJ Harvey - Let England Shake
See 2001.

i think if Roni Size wanted to make a coffee table d'n'b album he was well within his rights but as Tim F sorta points out above Disc 2 isn't like that at all and when he made Disc 1 the live instrumentation and songs and shininess was new and fun and fitted right in iirc

i like the ones i haven't heard more than the ones i have heard, from that list

some of the ones you haven't heard are terrible ffs, get a clue

you should hear the ones i have heard

1997: Roni Size / Reprazent - New Forms
Coffeetable Jungle. Apart from one or two tracks I always despised this for putting an acceptable face on drum'n'bass. Polishing up all the ruff edges and adding jazz-wank live instrumentation just goes against my values, basically.

you will always be wrong

new forms is a great record

do you hate shanks & bigfoot for doing the same thing to garage?

all music ever shd be ruff and shouty and sound like it was recorded in that railway carriage out of I Didn't Know You Cared by feral, fingerless tweens

the live instrumentation and songs and shininess was new and fun

flat, repetitive and lacking in momentum, you mean? I hear very little fun on this record. TBF the first two tracks are good enough - i liked high potent too.

fecking repetitive dance music

all music ever shd be ruff and shouty and sound like it was recorded in that railway carriage out of I Didn't Know You Cared by feral, fingerless tweens

― the Dorothy Squires of mean-spirited moaning and cynicism (Noodle Vague), Thursday, 8 September 2011 12:49 (19 seconds ago) Bookmark

Now yer talking.

hey, i was fifteen when new forms came out - you were lucky to even know what a coffeetable was back then.

Let's be really real, New Forms is way less coffee table than nearly every other drum & bass artist album released between 1995 and 1997.

ach, I'm being facetious, obviously. this is all based on recollection at the time. i wasn't hugely into drum'n'bass at the time, but i do remember hearing new forms and feeling as though it was bleached of all the things i did like about the genre.

Tim OTM. The beats were great on that record, especially compared to what Bukem or Alex Reece were doing.

I never gave a shit about "coffee table". I remember d'n'b purists getting irate over Everything But the Girl's Walking Wounded and it just seemed pissy and irrelevant to me. Just the usual dance scene politics.

Just remembered how much I love the Bahamadia track on New Forms.

"Walking Wounded" is awesome btw.

Why does the concept of "jazz wank" or "noodling" etc have so much prominence in British music conversations. It's such a loaded slur, British people love ridiculing complexity.

Did you ever hear the Reprazent remix of "New Forms" (the Bahamadia track) DL?

coffeetable was a good thing in my book. that kruder and dorfmeister dj kicks was my favourite cd around this time

PROG

xpost

K&D Sessions and K&D DJ Kicks definitely coffeetable, and maybe the pinnacle of the form.

British people love ridiculing complexity.

Brian Ferneyhough begs to differ

http://www.theartsdesk.com/media/k2/items/cache/496147e8066b3f90ac3104e3077335ac_XL.jpg

i wasn't referring to "complexity". i like complexity in places. new forms isn't that complex a record.

New Forms (Remix):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XrB13rcDDv4

Hmm. Spring Heel Jack weren't really coffee table D&B either.

xp I remember that remix Tim. I was editing reviews at Mixmag at the time so I got a ton of 12"s from that album.

Walking Wounded was classic - unlike many d'n'b producers' vocal tracks it was a brilliant song with or without that production. That album has far outlasted all the petty shit it got at the time, especially as Ben Watt has devoted himself to dance music ever since.

like i was joking about up there, i think it's a lingering idiocy from the punk critical hegemony, the equating of youth and rawness and enthusiastic shamateurism with excitement and the insistence on excitement as the only game in town. boring boring fetishes one and all.

i've never heard the talvin singh (actually i've only heard about 7 of these in total but nm), was it really so worthless? and if so what kind of worthless was it?

everytime i see its name it's such a pure rush of 1999 boho lolz, i almost feel wistful for it.

'traveller' was uh pleasant no?

What Christgau had to say about (most of) the winners:

Screamadelica:

Suede:
Make-or-break is "Sleeping Pills," when Brett Anderson drawls/whines/croons "You're a water sign, and I'm an air sign" so tunefully, repetitively, naggingly, inescapably that you swear he said "I'm an asshole" even though he pronounces "air sign" a lot more clearly than the line about Valium that follows. It's fingernail-on-blackboard city for anyone who doesn't believe Marc Bolan is Chuck Berry, and at first I couldn't stand it. Now it's a fave moment on this appropriately overhyped, surprisingly well-crafted coming out. More popwise and also more literary than the Smiths at a comparable stage, Suede's collective genderfuck projects a joyful defiance so rock and roll it obliterates all niggles about literal truth. If you think their victories over depression have nothing to do with you, be grateful you can make do with a report from the front. A-

M People:
Perfect records are so rare that it's foolish to cavil about the scope of the great disco album Soul II Soul and Yaz never got near (although Donna Summer did once). Each five-minute song clicks into its slot on the Michael Pickering-Paul Heard beats and hooks and special effects, with low tenor Heather Small gender-bending her diva devotion and deep, robust, confident shout over the top. What's a rock and roller to do with such music? Proud Heather puts it perfectly in her angriest moment: "Take it like a man baby if that's what you are." A

Portishead:
Sade for androids ("Sour Times," "Wandering Star") *

Pulp:
This year won't produce a more indispensable song than "Common People," but that doesn't mean young Americans know enough about the bourgeoisie to get it. And when sex gods are added up, Bryan-Ferry-plus-Blurandoasis won't equal George Michael. But beyond his devotion to songcraft, Cocker isn't Bluroroasis--Culture Club with lyrics is more like it. Smart and glam, swish and het, its jangle subsumed beneath swelling crescendos or nagging keybs and its rhythms steeped in rave, this isn't pat enough for the disco-still-sucks crowd. And although Cocker's stick-to-itiveness over four expendable albums suggests that he's attained a measure of maturity, his breakthrough is a mutation, not a fruition. If "Common People" should fall short, I recommend Island proceed directly to "Something Changed," a happy love song every bit as clever and realistic as his class war song. A-

Roni Size:
in the mildly overrated tradition of Massive Attack and Soul II Soul ("Digital," "Electricks") **

Gomez:
Really the roots-rock-they mean it, man ("Whipping Piccadilly," "Love Is Better Than a Warm Trombone"). ***

Talvin Singh:
Not reviewed

Badly Drawn Boy:
Damon Gough sounds a lot sadder than he is. It's more like he muses a lot, is easily distracted. On the page, "You left your shoes in the tree with me/I'll wear them to your house tonight" looks hopelessly stupid; on record, it's quite wry. Nor is he undemonstrative--unlike low-affect codependent Elliott Smith, he fusses so much over his tunes, crooning and segueing and arranging and stuff, that you know he loves them to death. You can imagine him being just as nice to a real live girl one of these years. A-

PJ Harvey (1):
If Nirvana and Robert Johnson are rock's essence for you, so's To Bring You My Love. But if you believe the Beatles and George Clinton had more to say in the end, this could be the first PJ album you adore as well as admire. It's a question of whether you use music to face your demons or to vault right over them. Either way the demons will be there, of course, and nobody's claiming they won't catch you by the ankle and bring you down sometime--or that facing them doesn't give you a shot at running them the fuck over. Maybe that's how Harvey got to where she could enjoy the fruits of her own genius and sexuality. Or maybe she just met the right guy. Tempos and pudendum juiced, she feels the world ending and feels immortal on the very first track. The other 11 songs she takes from there. A+

Ms Dynamite:
If all beats are created equal, then Niomi Daley's spare garage is as strong as Kimberley Jones's thick hip-hop. If flow is as flow does, then her earned plasticity is as fresh as Lauryn Hill's easy liquidity. If singing is basically a matter of sincerity, then her straitened cadences express as complexly as Erykah Badu's high-flying scats. If conscious is enough, then "Tell me how many Africans died for the baguettes on your Rolex" will educate as deep as "Black like the perception of who on welfare." But good music isn't the same thing as a catchy feature story, and this Mercury Prize winner has less flavor than a plate of mashed. She's biracial and the eldest of 10 children and manifestly good-hearted, and when she goes ragga on the way out I wish she hadn't been groomed for something bigger and blander. But she made her choice. C+

Dizzee Rascal:
The first thing to understand about Dizzee is that his fundamental appeal is musical, and the second is that there's very little music there. Break down a track and often you'll find only an electro beat--at most three or four sparse elements, rarely long on sustain or tune. Yet as someone who mocked the minimal means of U.K. garage and considered the Streets barely music at all, I was captivated by Dizzee's sound the moment I heard the import. His adolescent gulps and yowls are street-Brit with a Jamaican liquidity, as lean, eccentric, and arresting as the beats. The voice also lends a comic, claustrophobic vulnerability to rhymes whose brilliance varies, though their winning youthfulness does not. Whether he can grow as a lyricist as he struggles to comprehend his success is the old conundrum. The smarts he's got. The right advice will be hard to come by. A-

Franz Ferdinand:
Young enough to only work when they need the money, a musical tradition worth fighting for ("Michael," "Jacqueline"). ***

Antony & the Johnsons:
Whose voice touches who is personal, but that doesn't mean Antony will ever reach as many humans as Aretha Franklin or Billie Holiday, and up against the archer Bryan Ferry, the artier Rufus Wainwright, and the grander Nina Simone, objective physical differences manifest themselves: he's thinner, drier, more strained. Not only is his willingness to express emotion commoner than indie denizens imagine, his failure to undercut that emotion with irony or humor is a spiritual weakness. Right, he suffers. But billions of humans have it worse, and while we who are luckier are morally obliged to remember that, we're not obliged to empathize with any of them. Those convinced of the metaphoric-political centrality of transgender issues and the AIDS epidemic will feel Antony's songs. Those who don't should find a record they enjoy. B-

Arctic Monkeys:
The great thing about this album is how untranscendent it is, as if these lads know the guitar-band pleasures are cons. Sing-along tunes? Breakneck momentum? Next-big-thing ambition? Saturday-night swindles every one. Instead Alex Turner and crew evoke club life as it is actually experienced. They sound like not knowing the doorman, like moving on a girl you think isn't pretty enough, like missing the bus in a leather jacket that doesn't keep out the cold. Many details are too U.K.-specific for Yank-yob gratification. But aesthetes will come to enjoy Turner's nuanced adenoids and his bandmates' thought-through arrangements. A-

Klaxons:

Elbow:
Not reviewed

Speech Debelle:
South Londoner's murmuring flow lets eavesdroppers connect her problems to their own--maybe even suggest solutions ("Daddy's Little Girl," "Finish This Album"). **

xx:
Their minimalism is so contained that as you warm against your better judgement to the well-spaced notes, subtle depth charges, and ostinato hooks with which they couch their gentle cool, you figure that the matched female-and-male drawls the music sets off will prove unworthy of further commitment. But soon you learn that these two Southwest London 20-year-olds--to leave out their ancillary and now departed guitarist and crucial but probably not generative young producer-drummer--aren't being minimal to prove they're any shade of cool. It's more like they're being minimal because they're shy. Rather than resorting to an obscurantism they're too decent for or feigning a sophistication few achieve, they trade ideas about intimacy as contemporaries, comrades, prospects, lovers, ex-lovers, and friends. It's hard to imagine their music getting much better. But it's not hard to imagine their lives getting much better. Which may be all their music needs. A

PJ Harvey (2):
Polly Jean Harvey was major when she meant to shake the world, a life project she gave up on after releasing her finest album in 2000--much of it set, as must be mere coincidence, in New York City. Creating a suite of well-turned if unnecessarily understated antiwar songs, she's a gifted, strong-willed minor artist bent on shaking England in particular. How much that work enriches anyone's understanding of World War I is open to a debate too niggling to pursue. What's certain is that her special interest in the Great War reflects the changing contours of her chosen chauvinism no less than her evolution from the rough-hewn Howlin Wolf she absorbed in downhome Dorsetshire toward the dulcet clarity of Lancashire's prog-folk Annie Haslam. "I live and die/through England/I live and die/through England"? You said it, lady--twice. B+

xp like the wire being all wide-eyed and insistent about TABLAS? AND DRUM N BASS? WITH SQUAREPUSHER? DO YOU SEE?. when did we grow so cold?

liking xgau's klaxons review there

xp It's the school of thought that thinks dance music is only pure when it's lowbrow and self-conscious "sophistication", especially if it dares to invoke jazz, is middlebrow pandering to the coffee-table crowd/indie kids/yuppies/dilettantes/whatever. Thing is, there are more than enough boring, guest-vox-packed, failed crossover albums to enforce that prejudice, and many of my favourite dance producers shoot themselves in the foot trying to do what they think "proper" albums should do but on the rare occasions when it's done well I see no point in knocking it just for not being raw.

Love most of xgau's write-ups but "Tempos and pudendum juiced" is a phrase to be avoided.

Primal Scream was a "Neither" icon and the Klaxons a "Dud" icon.

yes. yes it was.

Maybe that's how Harvey got to where she could enjoy the fruits of her own genius and sexuality. Or maybe she just met the right guy. Tempos and pudendum juiced, s.....(snip)

Unbelieveable, the idea that PJ Harvey made a perfect album because she'd finally had loads of sex.

Well, it was Vincent Gallo.