Bandwidth

Illustration by Paul Milne

Sometimes, I find the mistakes more interesting than the thing I’m supposed to be paying attention to. It’s almost as if the little glimpse you get of someone when they muck up what they’re supposed to be doing is a more revealing insight into the person than what they’re actually putting on display.



Ultimately, what I’m saying is that I like the excitement of things going wrong, rather than streamlined perfection.



Some of the best musical moments I’ve ever experienced (live and on record) have come when a performance has come dangerously close to falling apart. Things like that bit in ‘Summer Babe’ by Pavement where Stephen Malkmus sings, “Minerals, ice deposits daily, dropped off,” and he starts laughing, and the music sort of stutters and clatters around him…or the bit in ‘Hardcore UFOs’ by Guided by Voices where the song is about to hit its climactic moment, and the guitar lead breaks, cutting the guitar off…those are the kind of moments I enjoy.



I once saw a band in Scotland (Aberdeen, to be precise) called The Jinx, who encapsulated a lot of what I enjoy about music. An overly literate four piece who were very fond of swapping instruments, they could be quite easily summed up by the word “cult”. Oblique to the point of confusion, a live performance by them could be a thing of wonder, with the audience having absolutely no idea of what is going to happen next.



I fell so hard for this band that I decided to start my own record label, just to release their music and take it to a wider audience. I roped in a few friends and accomplices, and dragged them down to see a show by the band. Brilliantly, they were on top form, four voices mixing with each other, weird, cranky little hooklines that seem to make no sense, but fit together perfectly, songs about losing your watch on the wrists of time…it was all there. We loved it, and left the show, fired up to make magic happen. We would release their record on our newly founded record label, and we would conquer the world with it. We decided we’d catch their next gig, confirm the feeling, and approach the band to see about working with them.



Their next gig was terrible. Strangely, they did more or less exactly the same thing they did at the previous gig, but it was just so shambolic and messy that it seemed to be swallowed up in the complete and total indifference of the crowd. It became obvious that on this particular occasion, NO ONE cared about this music. We left without approaching the band, deciding that we should mull this one over for a bit. Before anything could happen, I left the country, and I guess that was the end of that.



But can you ever really leave the tempting lures of indie-rock behind? As Sebadoh’s Lou Barlow once sang, “Started back in ’83 – started seeing things differently.” I know what he means. I’ve learned to be objective about art and aesthetics, but there’s certain things you just can’t shake. I can now listen to a piece of speed metal or something, and recognise it for it’s own inherent qualities, rather than just writing it off because “I don’t really like that kind of thing.” But every now and again, something comes up that just taps directly into my soul, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s like I’m geared to connect with something on a primal level, and the only option is just to surrender to it.



This happened recently with a band called The Frigates. Formerly The Pascals (many years ago…before my time, I think), they are a five piece hailing from…somewhere on this island. I’ll let Raymond Mullen from the band explain it himself:



“We didn’t really do all that much, slept in late, got up, drank some tea and went back to bed. We passed around a demo and played a handful of gigs half-heartedly trying to get signed. The Pascals were disbanded in 2003, mainly because David moved to Washington and I moved to Paris, but also partly due to disinterest, and general fedupness. Apologies for the mini-memoir, I’m hoping Wayne Rooney will ghost-write our autobiography. I can’t go on … I’ll go on.



“We went over to Virginia (the US one, not Cavan) last year and recorded a number of songs in David’s little subterranean studio, right in the heart of the military industrial complex, well, its commuter belt. Our intention is to release a series of EPs on our own label (K-7 Music, though we’re not too sure about the legality of this manoeuvre) over the next twelve months digitally/virtually, but we’re still going to make a few physical mock-ups, in this virtual mercantile gehenna the physical artefact is all but redundant.

“And it’s about this point where I enter the story. After being passed a copy of the CD with the words, “I think you’ll like this”, I was instantly captivated. For me – and I hope I’m not pigeonholing them here – the sound of the Frigates is one of glorious and gleeful freedom. Bass and guitars and drums and other things collide with each other, overlapping and crashing about in a gentle fury, whilst we are told stories about naval conflict, military ranks, a ghost (I think), and other things as well.



It might not be the tightest thing ever recorded in the world, but that’s what I love about it. Listening to the CD, I can hear the amount of care and attention that has gone into making this. This is the kind of music that requires a lot of care and craft in order to be made, and it’s then fired off into a potentially uncaring and hostile world, so it has to be able to stand on its own merits. If you were going out on a date with the record, it would be like going out with Molly Ringwald at the end of Pretty in Pink, where’s she’s made her own dress, and it’s more charming than all the pre-manufactured crap that the rich kids have.



(Although it’s best to ignore the fact that Molly Ringwald’s dress at the end of Pretty in Pink was horrendous – a truly nightmarish garment which was completely unflattering. Perhaps this wasn’t the best example.)



Anyway, you can hear tunes here:

 www.myspace.com/thefrigates


So you should listen to that.



It’s like the sound of someone falling off the edge of the world, and if you make a mistake and let go of the rope that you’re tethered to, it might just be the single most exhilarating thing that’s ever happened.

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