Lloyd Cole first made a name for himself in 1984 with the Commotions, the British band he founded in Scotland before relocating to New York City four years later. Since, he has released records both as a solo artist and with the Negatives. Now based in western Massachusetts, Cole recently formed the Small Ensemble. The trio is joined by the likes of Fred Maher, Joan Wasser and Kendall Meade for new album Broken Record (Tapete), Cole’s first “rock” LP in almost a decade. Cole will also be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week. Read our new Q&A with him. Says Cole as an introduction/disclaimer for his guest-editing posts, “I am 50 years old. More than twice the age I was when I began making music. I have developed opinions, certainly, and these opinions have evolved, but I can only speak for myself. I am still astonished by music. I am still perplexed by it. I am still moved by it. I am still revulsed by it. And I am more and more confused by how others make use of music in their lives. Music seems to be everywhere. Here are some of my thoughts on it.”
Cole: Thanks to the Portuguese people taking to my music and adopting me almost as their own, I’ve been visiting Portugal, at least every couple of years, since the mid-’80s. It only took me about 20 years to listen to their music. Shame on me. But, realistically, I probably wasn’t ready for fado until 2001, when I was taken to a Lisbon fado restaurant. We ate for a while, and then the musicians came out and played a few songs. We ate a little more, they played a little more. Very civilized. No amplification, just one diva and two guitars—one Portuguese style, bright sounding and lute shaped, the other a more recognizable six-string orchestral model, which played mostly bass notes and chords. The guitar arrangements are intricate and the rhythms and tempos varied, but all folk based. The singing is unlike anything else I’ve heard. Somewhere between opera, torch song and folk song, and mostly heartwrenching (you don’t need to understand the words to figure this out). Amália Rodrigues (R.I.P.) remains the queen of fado, and for many years I listened only to her, unable to see past her perfect delivery. But there are others. More than I know. Mariza is wonderful, and Ana Moura offers a contemporary twist, with an atypical voice. And I’ve even come around to accepting that men can sing fado, too. I recommend the most recent Pedro Moutinho.
I think I should also probably admit that the timing of my interest in fado coincided with a leaning towards music without words. I began listening to a lot of krautrock instrumentals and modern classical (yes, that is an oxymoron). I think I was worn out focusing on the lyric. I am always drawn to the lyric; I’m hardwired that way. And if the lyric isn’t great, well, I really don’t want to hear it. Words for the sake of syllables to sing are not words I want to digest. So I guess I retreated. In fado, I can hear the emotional intensity and the melody, and that’s enough. For now, anyhow.
Around this time, I was on a festival tour up and down the Baltic coast of Sweden with a bunch of rock bands I’d never heard of. Neil and I were the token old guys playing acoustically. Headlining the tour were Bob Hund. I cannot overstate how much I despise the very idea of the rock festival. Nothing but music all day, outdoors with portacabins for toilets. I’m not sure Dante could have imagined it would get this bad. Still, it’s my job to play music, and I cannot turn down every offer I get because it offends my sensibility, so, there we were. At the end of the first night I thought I should give these Bob Hund folk a listen. I stayed late every night to watch them. I was immediately besotted, and I remain so. I understand almost none of the lyrics, which are sung in a Southern Swedish dialect that even some Swedes find difficult, but I do know one title translates to “Instead Of Music, Chaos.” Which makes perfect sense once you’ve heard them. They are not easy listening, they are brash, post-punkish and experimental in the very best way. They cover Pere Ubu, and you don’t need to listen to the Ubu version any more. They also deliver their music with a real warmth. There is no detachment. I think they may be the only art rock band since Roxy Music to also have soul.
Videos after the jump.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bIeYeiUqjk
