Matthew Herbert is an agitator. However unlike most agitators he has never confused form with substance, always working on the assumption that if you seduce them first then they’ll be more inclined to discover the message. However recently the message has integrated itself very firmly into his approach via some strange sonic experiments that manage to find themselves not just used in token manner, but very firmly in the mix. This is his second Big Band album, recorded again at Abbey Road Studio with 18 or so of Europe’s best classical and jazz musicians as well as vocalist Eska (David Sylvian/Tony Allen) who more than makes up for the lack of his regular collaborator Dani Siciliano. It’s an album that veers between big band swing and musical theatre or cabaret, often it seems to lurch from one to the other in an incredibly idiosyncratic style, even tapping into elements of his electronic productions that he is more widely known for. It all sounds quite large, the punch of the brass in particular almost takes the wind out of you, albeit in a slightly camp and magical way. There’s something mischievous about the album, something incredibly playful. Despite its scope and content it’s infused with an almost hyperactive energy. Then of course there’s Herbert’s experiments. We’ve got 70 people scraping condoms across the floor of the British Museum, 100 credit cards being cut up, 70 people blowing on empty plastic water bottles, even the sound of his son’s incubator who was born premature. These for Herbert are all metaphor’s and each piece is brimming with socio political ramifications, whether it’s through these samples or the lyrics which talk of civil rights, media critiques, extraordinary rendition, the Iraq war, the Palestinian issue – overtly political themes. Even the cover is a plea for music to actually mean something instead of simply being a soundtrack buying things you don’t need. Yet musically these issues are hidden by extraordinary melodies and gorgeous vocals. It’s a dense album and at first its grandeur can be overwhelming. Slowly the complexity of the the tunes begin to unravel, the melodies reveal themselves and suddenly you hear the lyrics. Protest music has never been this lush, this musically complex, this forward (and backward) thinking, this seductive or this hopeful.
Bob Baker Fish
