Love and Rockets

Not the band.

Love and Rockets, for those unaware, is the name given to a selection of works by Jaime and Gilbert Hernandez, dealing primarily with a group of (largely chicano) punks in California and the inhabitants of the fictional Central American village of Palomar, respectively. Though dealing with seemingly disparate topics, both series share much in common: both follow a large selection of constantly developing characters; both constantly throw weird and wonderful elements into the mix - be they superheroes, gods, or short storylines dealing with Lucha Libre; both feature some of the most three-dimensional and well-crafted characters in fiction. The best single description I can think for either series would be 'counter-culture soap opera', but this would be to do the series a disservice. Gloriously uplifting at times, incredibly tragic at others; fully aware of the cruelty of human nature, yet ever optimistic - the Love and Rockets tales never lose sight of the humanity of the characters they describe, and are brilliant for it.

The series has been around for some time, having been started in '81, and continuing through to the present day (with a five year hiatus in-between), and makes for a fairly imposing series for the uninitiated. However, those who have been unsure where to start rejoice! Fantagraphics has begun recompiling the Love and Rockets, collecting related stories into single books (rather than following simple chronological order as before). While not comprehensive, this does mean that new readers can now own large chunks of the specific stories that interest them without needing to go considerably out of their way to do so.

As such, I must suggest that the discerning reader go out to their local bookstore and request one of these collections: those interested in Gilbert's pseudo-romantic tales of the inhabitants of Palomar could do far worse than Heartbreak Soup, whereas those more enamoured by Jaime's eclectic tales of punk mechanics should jump on Maggie the Mechanic. Both are absolute steals at the price - each providing near 300 high-quality pages of beautiful artwork and brilliant tales - and even the most cash-strapped reader should be able to justify the purchase of both books. I would be hard-pressed to choose a favourite, but the romantic in me leans ever-so-slightly more towards the tales of Palomar - whatever the case, the two books should set you up well to better understand what each writer is about, and hopefully will instil a love for the characters and world of Love and Rockets equal to that of me and countless other readers.

If you've not experienced Love and Rockets before, deprive yourself no longer.

Of Montreal

With them having been mentioned in last month's Plan B magazine (something else that you need... maybe I'll talk about them in a later post. Or maybe I should assume any reader clever enough to be here would already know they need Plan B. Being a non-Brit is no excuse), this might seem a somewhat redundant post. But it most certainly isn't: if anything, Of Montreal's appearance therein makes this all the more relevant!

You see, while the article does tell us that Of Montreal's most recent album, Hissing
Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?, is "addictive... the sound of panic, loneliness and claustrophobia, the sound of being trapped in your own head, unable to relate", yet "it's delightfully funny in places too", and "doesn't so much beg for your attention as wrestle it to the ground, pin it down with its deceptively wiry arms and plant a big black kiss on its forehead" - all well deserved comments - it also makes some wonderfully undeserved comments regarding Of Montreal's earlier output. Specifically: "I had previously ranked [Of Montreal] alongside Paris Hilton and Coke Zero in terms of their usefulness to mankind. [Their] last album cover (2005's The Sunlandic Twins) actually made me gag" - in fact, the writer (Joe Stannard) even tells us that "Kevin Barnes [Of Montreal frontman]... never meant shit to me. I never set much stock in all that 21st Century US indie bullshit, all those bands hanging on the coattails of Neutral Milk Hotel".

Now, everybody is entitled to their own opinion, true. And Stannard does make it clear that this is his opinion and nobody else's. Nevertheless, I do feel a need to defend Of Montreal from his statements, lest any readers of Plan B have been convinced not to look into Of Montreal's earlier output - and this would be a travesty, as their earlier works include some real things of beauty, not least the album Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies: A Variety of Whimsical Verse. This wonderful album marks the closing days of the band's more free work, interspersing songs with poetry and prose tales, the album flits from style to style, managing that rare feat of never feeling tired, no matter how many times you listen to it.

This is an album which opens with a jaunty song, Good Morning, Mr. Edmington, sung by a kidnapper to his hostages, who wants to let them go if they would only give him an honest job; it progresses to a prose/poetry piece chronicling the curious happenings at a crime-scene, The Events Leading Up to the Collapse of Detective Dulllight, in which the three policemen investigating end up variously being murdered, writing free-verse poetry about gauze while in prison, and dissolving into the froth atop a child's bedtime cocoa.

It is these quirky topics which lead writers like Stannard to condemn Of Montreal's earlier works as pointless, quirky pieces, unworthy of recognition. And indeed, if you're looking for 'serious' music then you might wish to stick with their most recent album. But a world with only serious music - a rockist world? - would be terribly dull, and it is exactly this that bands like Of Montreal do their best to prevent. In fact, this is something Stannard seems partially aware of; he acknowledges that their most recent album, while talking from the heart about depression, manages to have its moments of hilarity, delighting in wordplay just as all Of Montreal's tracks do. His main criticism of their earlier output is that it lacks the poignancy and meaning of this, extremely personal work - and in doing so shuns the complexity of their earlier tracks dealing with impossible yearning: for youthful innocence - Let's Do Everything for the First Time Forever, Wraith Pinned to the Mist (And Other Games); for freedom from the modern world - City Bird, Forecast Fascist Future.

In couching their worries and sadness in gentle, upbeat songs Of Montreal are able to sneak in under the radar: where a more earnest musician might drone on at us about their suffering, exhausting us with their perpetual complaining, Of Montreal's more pleasant sounds leave the listener with a complexity of emotion they would otherwise lack, and so leaves us more open to their complaints. They understand, as we do, that they could not live as children all of their lives, that they could not manage without the structures of modern living, but they can still feel sad for what has passed - and through their complex and witty music we are able to feel these self-same sensations, and perhaps reflect on our own views of the world.

And for all of that, Of Montreal are essential.

You need them.

Get.

Zombina and the Skeletones - Death Valley High - Part 2

Okay, perhaps you need to know a little more.

Zombina and the Skeletones are a fun little horror-themed punk band from Liverpool. Death Valley High is the album they released back in 2006. Following on from the well-received 2004 album "Taste The Blood Of Zombina and the Skeletones", Death Valley High was made following the band's discovery that they couldn't afford to make the horror film they had intended. Thwarted by finances, they instead decided to make their next album a concept album - the concept being the plot of their intended movie.

And what a plot. The album initially takes us on a ride through a typical B-movie romance: bad boy meets lonely, geeky girl, professes his love for her, then cheats on her at the school prom. Where the album differs, is in that it fails to end with the boy coming to his senses and making the innocent girl happy. Instead, the innocent girl cracks, cuts the new girl's head off at the prom, is placed in a mental asylum, escapes, gets her hands on a dissolvo ray and brings about the end of the world.




Had time to sink in? Good. Fortunately, the 'interesting' storyline isn't all the album has going for it. Whereas Taste The Blood Of... was a pretty straightforward pop-punk album with some fun lyrics (and a stand-out track in the form of Nobody Likes You When You're Dead), Death Valley High offers a much more eclectic experience. While pop- and punk- sensibilities are present in most of the tracks on the album, the style still changes drastically between songs, with the a cappella Guess What?! and hammond organ-backed tragic ballad The Fragile Heart springing immediately to mind as both particularly unusual, and particularly great tracks on the album.

Indeed, while the album may lack anything quite on a par with Nobody Likes You When You're Dead as far as standalone songs go, it manages to be a far better album than Taste The Blood Of... could hope to be: the tracks work together perfectly, managing to drastically change pace and mood without ever breaking the flow of the album, and the quality of the songs stays consistently high.

As with all music there's only so far words can guide you, of course. To really appreciate the exuberance and joy of this album you have to listen to it. Sadly, while their myspace page does feature four of the tracks for your listening pleasure, it can't hope to replicate the experience of listening to the album as a whole, so you're just going to have to buy, borrow or steal the album for yourself.

If you choose the first option, you might want to try looking on Rough Trade. Well, if you're British. The rest of you'll probably want to look elsewhere for your Zombina kicks, I'm afraid.

Well, what're you waiting for?

Zombina and the Skeletones - Death Valley High

Know that you need it.

That is all.