How NOT to write about music – 93. No Sister

no-sister-my-new-career

It bothers me that when I try to capture beauty I usually end up bruising it.

  • Odd. But perhaps not that odd. I was talking about you a few days ago with a couple of friends, I’m guessing you know who.
  • You are one of the people I miss from Brisbane, although I am also guessing you no longer live there.
  • I nearly wrote about your band once before, but didn’t because, I’m guessing you know why.
  • I always thought it is better to try and direct the conversation than reveal, but these days there are no sureties.

It bothers me that so few people are bothered.

  • This music leaves more questions left unsaid then it does provide answers.
  • Shopping malls and aerosols is a great rhyme.
  • This music is more reminiscent of the loneliness of overheated suburban Australian playgrounds and half-empty English hair salons than of the rain-splattered American streets reflecting neon.
  • The greatest moment in this song occurs at around 1.27, if we follow the A Certain Ratio guide, which we shouldn’t.

It bothers me that I have never attained the level in my writing style where I can be direct without being dull.

  • I have no idea what you’re thinking.
  • This is way better than you think it is, however good you think it is.

It bothers me that when I try to capture beauty I usually end up bruising it. This one line from the band themselves: No Sister’s upcoming release is an acknowledgement of an elemental, unavoidable creative facet: influence: is brilliant. Hemmed-in, but with the creative freedom such acknowledgment brings.

Building on the shoulders of giants. This is a billowing, bruised beauty – isolation and solace and the echo of late night footsteps receding. So fine. You don’t have to believe me. Just play the song over and over again, thinking of me playing the song over and over again, grappling to articulate emotions the closer I get to the further they slip away.

If you want more detail, the band put it far better than I can. There again, I have nothing riding on this. This, and Tropical Fuck Storm, are the two bands you should be listening to right now.

‘My New Career’ — a song exploring a simultaneously hyperbolic but very real sense of DIY feminism — abounds in influences. The opening lines “I used to do my hair with rollers, but now I use spray cans and pliers” were borrowed from an artwork by Melbourne artist Ruth O’Leary, with the song’s sentiments further propelled by writers such as Sheila Heti and Anne Boyer. Meanwhile the musical and aesthetic influences range from David Sylvian, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Prince and other 80s fascinations — in their new EP No Sister expand their post-punk sound to include influences from both sides of the Atlantic (and Pacific).

Self-released in Australia by No Sister, Influence was recorded by John Lee and Pat Telfer at Phaedra Studios (Beaches, Love of Diagrams, Small World Experience, Lost Animal, Stonefield), mixed by Mino Peric and mastered by David Walker at Stepford Audio.

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How NOT to write about music – 84. A Certain Ratio

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I’ve been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand,
Could these sensations make me feel the pleasures of a normal man?

How NOT to write about music – 84. Joy Division

No, fuck it. This is still How NOT to write about music – 84. A Certain Ratio

No apologies. I want you to step outside the boundaries.

————————————————–

This is the true heart of darkness. An unrelenting gaze, inward-turned. Hopeless, relentless. No relief, no let-out. Building and building. Terrifying. Bleak. Helpless. No light enters. No light escapes. Murder on the dance floor. A psychic dance hall. All that is left is disbelief, the aftermath. I try to catch some memories, but jealousy just creeps back into my mind.

Increasingly, I find myself listening to collections of early acr cassettes and singles on the train up to Clapham Junction. The volume is too low and fails to blot out the outside world (“reality”) but even if the volume was 1,000 times louder and shattered my eardrums it would still fail to blot out the outside world. All the talk right now is centered around one of A Certain Ratio’s better-known late 1970s contemporaries – and that’s nice, it’s always good to see the one linear version of history reinforced time and time again by the same people (what’s the matter, didn’t Topping kill himself?) – but this is the music I return to, time and time again, in my futile attempts to blot out the world. I wish I could.

I only wish I could.

This is the true heart of darkness. An unrelenting gaze, inward-turned. Hopeless, relentless. No relief, no let-out. Building and building. Terrifying. Bleak. Helpless. No light enters. No light escapes. Murder on the dance floor. A psychic dance hall. All that is left is disbelief, the aftermath. I try to catch some memories, but jealousy just creeps back into my mind.

The band’s two founder members (Simon Topping and Peter Terrell) left in 1982.

Unknown Pleasures is a great album sure, but it isn’t even the greatest album on Factory Records.

———————-
As I look back
my murky past
was packed but
I know nothing I can do about it
I tried to carry some memories
but jealousy just creeps back into my mind
I work all day
I drink all night
My life is just an angry blur
———————-
A home, I’ve always wanted a home
I’ve always wanted a home of my own,
I’ve always wanted a home.
A wife, with eyes of green
And soft white skin,
To bear me a child.
I’ve always wanted a child
A child, who is good and strong
That would never go wrong
I’ve always wanted a child
I was present at my child’s birth,
I was there, to see him open his eyes
I always wanted a child.
His back, his back is coarse.
And his legs are bent,
I’ve gone over to my wife.
You’ve given me the wrong child
I don’t want him to die in the home that I own
I don’t want him to die
I don’t want him to die,
In the home that I own.
———————-