Jamie Lidell hasn’t stopped moving. He’s like a shark. Albeit a stone cold funked-up, sonically obsessed, romantically soulful killer shark. And he isn’t going to stop. No, he won’t stop. Please don’t ask him to. Just get out of the way, enjoy the spectacle and the soundtrack. Read More...
Jamie Lidell hasn’t stopped moving.
He’s like a shark. Albeit a stone cold funked-up, sonically obsessed, romantically soulful killer shark. And he isn’t going to stop. No, he won’t stop. Please don’t ask him to. Just get out of the way, enjoy the spectacle and the soundtrack.
Jamie’s a genuinely restless soul. He broke out of small-town England and has been a nomad ever since. His constant desire to progress—leaping and stumbling towards new discoveries—has defined his musical journey so far; and there’s no sign of it fading away.
Dig into the discography and you’ll find underground techno, two albums of Super_Collider’s fondly recalled science-funk (with Cristian Vogel), and his magnificently wigged-out solo debut Muddlin Gear. Then, in 2005, came Multiply, a surprisingly hook-stuffed, meticulously produced platter of deliciously uplifting soul and funk that won international adulation. Meanwhile, Jamie’s one-man shows were, quite literally, something else. Live, he pushed himself and his technology against the limits of chaos and control.
By 2008, Jamie had become Jim—building on the foundations of Multiply to construct a warm, invitingly plush bordello of funk, disco, grooves and gospel; with secret chambers of poignant soul. The accompanying tour saw him evolve from peerless sonic manipulator into a dandy showman leading a blazingly talented four-piece across the world’s clubs, stadia and TV studios. Yet, that sense of exploration that he craves was never far away.
Now it’s 2010, and Jim has left the building. So Jamie returns with a new map for these territories. Undoubtedly, Compass is his most eclectic album yet. Songs shift, chop, change and mutate genres and forms before our very ears. It’s got funk in spades; the jaw-dropping power of the vocals is stronger than ever; it rocks, it pops, it’s sweet, angry, hard, soulful and soft, often within the span of a single track. It’s the restless album that finally matches the soul of its creator.
“I wrote every song in a month,” Jamie says, “It’s been an emotional couple of years, so I tapped into what I wanted to say and started writing. There was a lot to draw on.” Recorded in Los Angeles, New York and Canada, Jamie’s fellow travelers on Compass include Beck, Feist, Gonzales, Chris Taylor of Grizzly Bear and Pat Sansone of Wilco. Musically and lyrically this is very much A Jamie Lidell Production—reflecting not only his exhilarating, diverse tastes, but also a year of change, love, longing and arrival at a new place. When he takes to the road in 2010, he’ll be bringing a band again, but stripping it back; keeping it lean. For both newcomers and initiates, this will be an experience. And no, he won’t stop.
So the story sounds a little familiar. At least at first, as George Lewis Jr. recalls his 10-round bout with writer’s block, a struggle that was broken by searching the streets of Berlin for the ghosts of Bowie, Reed and Pop. Because that’s what artists do when they get tired of playing rock ’n’ roll, right? They revisit the point where the gods of glam and four-alarm guitars discovered such groove-riding Germans as Cluster, Kraftwerk and Can.
“The whole experience of living in Berlin was very cinematic,” explains Lewis Jr., “reinforcing the idea of being in a place where you can indulge just about any fantasy, creatively and personally. What I wanted to do came out with such clarity once I got back to Brooklyn—I spit a bunch of songs out right away.”
A couple standout recordings from those early bedroom sessions are “Yellow Balloon” and “Castles In the Snow,”. These songs also serve as the phantasmagoric foundation for a forthcoming LP of new songs that’ll be released through Chris Taylor’s (Grizzly Bear) Terrible Records later this year. Driven by brittle drum breaks, crystallized keys, rubber-soled bass lines and galloping guitar chords, the double A-side single is a poppy but peculiar introduction to Twin Shadow. The solo project took on a life of its own last year, as Lewis Jr. found his calling amid a steady diet of laser-guided synth lines and layered loops.
“I remember the first time someone sat me down and made me listen to an entire Kraftwerk record,” says Lewis Jr. “I think it was The Man Machine. Anyway, I freaked out over it, because it made me realize why I loved David Bowie’s Low for so many years. I mean, I still listen to Led Zeppelin at least twice a week, but I don’t want to hear someone trying to do that anymore.”
He also doesn’t want to hold anything back after many years of bouncing between bands and exploring the tone poem side of songwriting with the Bill T Jones Dance Company and Lewis Forever, an ongoing performance art project with his three sisters. One of which is his twin, although that doesn’t quite explain the Twin Shadow name. Think of it as a movie title instead—a film adaptation of Bowie’s Berlin years, as filtered through the waking dream lens of David Lynch.
“It’s kinda crazy how new all of this is to me,” he says. “Everything is very spontaneous. That’s the other thing I learned in Berlin—that it’s okay to change, because it’s all connected in some way. Whatever I learn today is something I’m going to apply tomorrow. The tough thing is finding some cohesion. But that’s okay. Musicians who don’t evolve can only be a part of our cultural existence for so long, you know?”