Switched On – Heavenly Remixes 3 & 4: Andrew Weatherall (Heavenly)

heavenly-3

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Heavenly have already released two volumes of compilations celebrating the art of the remix on their label. They have turned to a wide range of their artists either as remixers or as providers of the original song, moving from older staples from Saint Etienne and Doves to more recent Heavenly royalty Working Men’s Club, The Orielles and Gwenno.

Volumes 3 and 4 tell a different story, coming to you directly from the mixing desk of the much missed Andrew Weatherall. Weatherall was a shining light in dance music – rock music, too – from the 1990s onwards, sprinkling his production stardust on albums from Primal Scream (notably Screamadelica) and Beth Orton, while providing production and remixes for a huge range of artists.

This selection is all exclusive to the Heavenly label, celebrating his achievements and status with the label, for their first ever remix was from Weatherall himself.

What’s the music like?

In a word, brilliant. Weatherall made so many remixes but managed the difficult juggling act of having his own distinctive style without ever making the same mix twice.

That first remix – the Andrew Weatherall Soul Of Europe Mix of Sly & Lovechild’s The World According To Sly & Lovechild – is an uplifting call to arms at the start of this collection. It may begin with the vocal gambit “These are dark days” but it is a wholly positive vocal, dressed with undulating marimbas and a chunky bassline. Next up is Mark Lanegan, the legendary vocalist who as I write this review sadly passed away only yesterday. Beehive gets an upfront remix with the couplet “lightning coming out of the speakers, wanna hear that sound some more”. After these two heavyweights, an even bigger mix lies in wait in the form of Flowered Up’s ‘Weekender’ from 1992. This is expertly paced over 17 minutes, no less, getting into its groove early on and never letting up. A similar rhythm permeates Gwenno’s Chwyldro but this is a wholly different approach, with a hazy palette and some weird harmonies complementing her softer tones.

Another legendary remix follows, Weatherall taking Saint Etienne to the dancefloor with his take on Only Love Can Break Your Heart, a dub-infused version that drops into a full vocal version half way through. A heady remix of Confidence Man’s Bubblegum follows, then a Sabres of Paradise mix of Espiritu, whose Conquistador goes through the wringer in an up-tempo flurry of percussion and rave riffs. Finally The OriellesSugar Taste Like Salt plays havoc with the stereo placement and rolls out a big set of drum fills, both favourite tricks of Weatherall’s as he succeeds in displacing the listener.

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Volume 4 is just as good – and once again presents a set of shapeshifting beats that manages to twist the original artists almost beyond recognition. audiobooks are first, Weatherall taking them to the electro disco with the groovy, spacey, Dance Your Life Away, before an edit of the Two Lone Swordsmen Dub of Saint Etienne’s Heart Failed In The Back Of A Taxi, a suitably grubby affair.

Next up is DovesCompulsion, an unlikely candidate but packed with reverb and big vocals as it settles into a brilliant chugging groove with constantly flickering electronics. TOY’s Dead and Gone gets a minimal, relatively straight remix with a good deal of white noise, then Confidence Man’s Out The Window makes the most of a vocal that could have been sent from the Hacienda. LCMDF’s Gandhi is a shape-shifter in Weatherall’s hands, then another Espiritu track – Bonita Mañana – gets taken to the cleaners over 13 glorious minutes. Finally – and regretfully – we reach the end with Unloved and a slow, loping take on Devils Angels, doom-laden and disorientating on headphones.

Does it all work?

It does, handsomely – and it matters not a jot that some of these remixes weigh in at more than a quarter of an hour. Flowered Up’s Weekender is a great example of how to make one remix sound like half of a DJ set, and it says a lot for Weatherall’s craft that it would be easy to listen to the track all over again.

Is it recommended?

Yes – for this is the sound of an artist constantly finding new ways to express familiar vocals, always with both eyes on the dancefloor. It is clear that Andrew Weatherall had nothing but fun in his studio! Weatherall fans and anyone wanting to learn the dos and don’ts of a good remix should get this, as should anyone with a passing interest in dance or indie music from the 1990s onwards. Even without any of the historical baggage, this is simply a brilliant set of grooves with a feelgood atmosphere running throughout!

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Switched On – Heavenly Remixes 1 & 2 (Heavenly)

heavenly-1

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The celebrated record label Heavenly, one of Britain’s most durable independent record labels, was built in part on the art of the remix. It is therefore only right they celebrate the craft with a quartet of compilations. The first two were released in late 2021, while the much-missed Andrew Weatherall who made their first remix, gets the third and fourth volumes all to himself early this year. This review covers the wide selection of music housed in the first two releases.

What’s the music like?

Hugely enjoyable. The great thing here is the planning on the part of the label, who have skilfully blended remixes old and new into a logical order without losing the sheer enjoyment of the process.

Among the many highlights is the now legendary Underworld remix of Saint Etienne’s Cool Kids of Death, with spacey pianos flitting in and out of the picture. This is in contrast to the blasts of distortion given to Jimi Goodwin’s Terracotta Warrior by Andy Votel. The Mother remix of Espiritu’s Los Americanos brings the funk, while a surprise Cherry Ghost cover of CeCe Peniston’s Finally has a meeting with The Cure’s Lullaby in an unexpected turn of events from the studio desk of Time and Space Machine.

The more recent material includes a windswept take on Unloved’s Why Not from Gwenno, while Raf Rundell struts out in the company of the synths of Harvey Sutherland, an excellent take on Monsterpiece. The spatial effects applied to Midlife’s Automatic from Jono Ma Ascend are also a treat for the headphone listener, and the loping beat of Confidence Man’s Out The Window, as managed by Greg Wilson & Ché Wilson, is brilliant.

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The second volume has a similar old-new profile, which once again is brilliantly managed. The enjoyably gritty Monkey Mafia remix of Saint Etienne’s Filthy is very much of its time, with big beats and heavy bass, while The Orielles succumb to a great piano-led house treatment from Dicky Trisco & Pete Herbert on It Makes You Forget. The artfully restrained Mikey Young remix of Boy Azooga’s Face Behind Her Cigarette is nicely done, and leads into typical glittering excellence from Lindstrøm, as he takes DovesJetstream to the cleaners. R. Seiliog’s swirling take on Gwenno’s Chwyldro is a compilation highlight, making a heady impression, while in a similar vein M. Craft’s Chemical Trails is wispy and rather lovely when passed through the studio of Beyond the Wizards Sleeve.

Does it all work?

Yes. A few of the remixes show their age but why shouldn’t they? It all adds to the appeal of a compilation that will leave its listeners more than a little misty-eyed, but will give the rush of familiar vocals in unfamiliar settings. The wide range of styles only makes the package more attractive.

Is it recommended?

Without hesitation. Anyone with a passing interest in dance or indie music will take a lot from listening to these two volumes, and some of the components will fill valuable gaps in many a collection. It is a genuine thrill to hear a remix album as good and as fun as this collection is.

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On Record – Saint Etienne: I’ve Been Trying To Tell You (Heavenly)

saint-etienne

reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

For their tenth album, Saint Etienne have taken a trip down memory lane. The trio of Bob Stanley, Pete Wiggs and Sarah Cracknell have all been recalling events, thoughts and emotions from 1997 to 2001, a period when the UK was basking in rarefied optimism under New Labour. Was it all a bad dream? Was it as good a time as people thought?

Using samples and clever production techniques, the trio pose these questions and more, in the form of a sample-based album that uses clips from the time period. For the first time – presumably for lockdown reasons – the album was recorded remotely, with no need for a studio – and with assistance from composer Guy Bousfield, who wrote two songs on the album.

What’s the music like?

Very relaxed and dreamy, even for a Saint Etienne album. It is much less song-based than is the norm for the trio, and the aim of the gentle memory jogging is subtle rather than firmly pointed. The focus on sonic snippets and the dubby, instrumental approach could easily be teleported from the period in question. We hear less from Sarah Cracknell as a vocalist, but that means that the times she does appear are accentuated, her phrases given extra importance. The profile of the music yields more satisfaction with each listen, as the manipulation of the samples is made clearer.

The samples themselves are unexpected – with appearances for Honeyz, The Lightning Seeds, Lighthouse Family and Samantha Mumba that if anything emphasise the musical distance we have put between ourselves and the period in focus. The field recordings have a more immediate effect of how society might have been before the pandemic, creating their own form of yearning.

Cracknell it is who starts the album, with several vocal lines competing for the foreground in Music Again, where a loping beat ebbs and flows gently. Fonteyn pans out even further, with the wide open natural spaces including birdsong at the end – a quality shared by many recently-released albums, recorded under lockdown conditions. Fonteyn segues into the gorgeous Little K, a warm fuzz of a track with dappled harp and sun-blushed ambience.

Blue Kite is glitchy in profile, drifting in and out of focus, before working up more of a head of steam. Pond House has a slow, wide open beat with a woozy texture, enhancing the dream state along with Cracknell’s ‘here it comes again’ loop. The singer comes to the front of the virtual stage for Penlop, a lullaby in all but name that calms the senses, before the gentle lapping of Broad River completes the recollections.

Does it all work?

Yes. Albums rooted in nostalgia often make the mistake of over-using the rose tinted spectacles in their longing backwards glances, but if anything I’ve Been Trying To Tell You does the opposite, in an unforced but gently nagging way.

The album is more a single construction than previous Saint Etienne long players, its relative lack of songs compensated by the bigger overall structure.

Is it recommended?

It is. I’ve Been Trying To Tell You poses as many questions as it answers, and although it works extremely well as an album to get horizontal with, there are many layers to its genius. It subtly but pointedly asks where the UK is now, where it is going, and were we all sold a dummy as the millennium approached?

There is an accompanying film from photographer Alasdair McLellan but the music for I’ve Been Trying To Tell You creates its own beautifully rendered imagery for the listener to lose themselves in. It is a rather lovely album.

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