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| August 12th, 2006 by Eric K (Permalink) Add Comments |
Stagecoach: Route No. 59
Silence is suspicious. So wrote Michel Foucault and so thought I as I was faced with the terror of completing my journey to work sans-iPod following its removal from my person by a drooling troglodyte with the kind of face I’m used to seeing on the side of a milk carton or a late-night Panorama special. Subsequently, I was unable to immerse myself in the comforting soundtrack of death-jazz speedcore and became intensely jealous of others (seemingly the entire Aberdonian populace) blissfully unaware of my trauma, lost in the grasp of their own shuffled playlists. What’s so compelling about what they’re listening to that they don’t feel the need to engage with the rest of us anyway? What have they got in there that’s so great? Well, for one thing, something to talk about should they wish to submit a review to their local music mag. So I’ve no new discoveries to share with you, no ‘overlooked finds’, no ‘hidden gems’ from the dark recesses of Fopp’s second-hand section. Or do I?
Friends, readers, Country fans (actually, you lot can go get some taste first… and a decent deodorant), lend me your ears for mine have just been opened to the magical sounds of Stagecoach’s ‘Route 59’ and I must share with you this experience. Stagecoach have been plugging away at this particular audio-schematic for longer than my pet elephant Babar can remember and those years of experience reach their zenith in the re-release of this comprehensive compilation.
Track 1, ‘Foresterhill Road’, begins, unassumingly enough, with the comforting buzz of a bus engine and intermittent bursts and squeals of grinding pistons. The mechanical rustle of what could be some homemade percussion instrument (none of the instruments are listed in the sleeve-notes - a barren strip of paper adorned only by a list of track-titles and the date of purchase) accompanies the unintelligible chatter of children’s voices as the track plays out within 180 seconds.
‘Rosemount Place’ takes up where track 1 leaves off, the droning engine-noises gradually giving way to a vast range of found sounds and musique concrete. Recorded on location, the sounds of the local Grampian wildlife (a mishmash of harping seagulls and the yowling grunt of an indigenous creature known as the ‘ned’) are captured imaginatively and field recordings are employed and re-employed throughout the audio-journey.
Three tracks (or “stops”) in and I’m beginning to wonder exactly where this whole thing is going, a question duly answered by, ‘Gilcomston Steps’ which, at over 11 minutes, forms the real meat of the album. The caw-cawing of gulls and neds comes to a halt and is replaced by the exhaust roar of back-firing engines and sub-woofers blaring out a muffled, jungle beat. This combined with a couple of (uncredited) male vocals muttering about local council inadequacies create the curious impression that Radio 4 has set up broadcasting nextdoor to a pirate garage radio station.
The best thing about the whole trip is each time I’ve given it a spin (and it does bear repeated listening if you can bear the pungent smell of the packaging) I’ve heard something different. Not only do different sounds and noises come to the fore each time but the record is staffed by a constantly revolving cast of musicians all orchestrated by the appropriately-named ‘Conductor’. Throughout the album,
The Conductor utters a repeating verse of ‘Where to?’ in a semi-spoken drawl half way between Tom Waits and James Yorkston, creating an incessantly questioning, searching ambience. The barely discernable answers take the form of a string of names taken from the titles of other tracks on the album.
Briefly interrupting these droning grumbles, a listless female vocal can be heard on ‘Rosemount Viaduct’ la-la-ing the kind of pop tune that makes me want to cut off my balls just to save future generations from also having to endure it. It’s not an unpleasant addition, however. It’s the sheer range of these contrasting styles that encapsulates the befuddling ambition of Stagecoach in putting together this collection. Indeed, initially the record is somewhat of an over-indulgence in its attempts to cram so many usually incompatible genres onto one disc. Attempting to fully describe the range of influences covered herein is as overwhelming as arriving at Pompeii with a bucket and spade. Suffice to say it’s an experience likely to encourage repeated listening for the attentive listener.
The album clocks in at under 30 minutes in all but is put on a Buddha Machine-like continuous loop from 7:04 to 11:30 daily. To sweeten the deal, the whole caboodle is released free of lawyer-bothering copyright restrictions and is available for a measly 8-0 of your silver pennies. To tell those of you who haven’t yet realised that there isn’t going to be an album recommendation at the end of this, I see it as an obligation - nay a duty - to share with you this most wondrous and beguiling of compilations. Go out, my friends… open your ears to Stagecoach.
Tracklisting:
- Foresterhill Road 2:59
- Rosemount Place, 0:30
- Skene Square 1:04
- Gilcomston Steps 11:26
- St Andrews Street 2:55
- Blackfriars Street 2:43
- Rosemount Viaduct 3:00
- Union Terrace 1:41
- Bridge Street 2:32
- Victoria Road 1:50
August 15th, 2006 at 11:26 am
You bastard- thats the best review i’ve ever read and there is now no point in me coninuing as a music journalist.
The ‘difficult’ second album, incidentally, has been launched in Bolton by the way, but its an extremely dark and sordid affair and one that despite its best efforts simply doesn’t work.
Sir, I salute you.