Reclusive atmospheric avant-pop doyennes given respectful tribute -an accompaniment to new James Marsh-designed Talk Talk biography
8/10
As their most familiar hit begins, funny how Talk Talk have sustained such reverence for all these years, despite the various members of the hit-makers choosing to eschew the music industry and, presumably, seek other employment, raise families or continue with their art, but without fanfare.
In 1981, messrs Hollis, Harris, Webb and Brenner were swept along with the New Romantic/synth-pop phenomena, before quickly rejecting any connection with the oeuvre and instead opting to broaden their horizons, sound and reputation as a great live band and become less and less commercial with every album, resulting in the expansive, experimental, feedback-powered, blues-jazz hybrids, Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock. If you're thinking of picking up any instrument or forming a band, I urge you to listen to these two and the preceding triumphant long-player, The Colour of Spring, for inspiration.
Which is something that the thirty or so artists featured on this double-CD tribute have clearly been doing. With the advent of a new biographical tome, artfully compiled with Talk Talk's sleeve-designing James Marsh's images, collated by fan Toby Benjamin and contributed to be several admiring musicians, Fierce Panda have rounded up a few of those performers to select and perform their favourite Talk Talk song, in a style of their choosing. In short, it's a project that could have gone horribly wrong - like Joy Division and The Blue Nile, Mark Hollis's charges remain a band whose canon you should only cover if you are a) brave or b) capable (or both).
Essentially then, Spirit of Talk Talk is a reassuringly decent effort, not without failure but not without at least one disc's worth of solid efforts either. Before breaking down the heroes and villians, it's worth noting that there are some leading acts and artists on here - members of Grandaddy, Arcade Fire, Efterklang, Electric Soft Parade, Bon Iver, Zero 7, Recoil and Talk Talk's own touring band feature throughout, as well as White Lies, Joan as Police Woman, King Creosote, Turin Brakes and Fyfe Dangerfield, plus a welter of bands on the cusp of acclaim.
The album starts with one such act, Lone Wolf (aka Paul Marshall), who turns in a robust rendition of Wealth and a surprisingly fitting one, considering that the track closes out its parent-album, Spirit of Eden. Other notable highlights on disc one include King Creosote's near-skiffle shuffle of Give It Up, Zero 7's fragile reading of the only non-Talk Talk song The Colour of Spring (taken from Hollis' solo album) and the gorgeous It's Getting Late in the Evening given a thoroughly angelic hosanna and choral vibe by Davide Rossi, Nils Fraham and Efterklang's Peter Broderick. The first disc tails off a little after Cresote's jollity, but a surprise inclusion is "?", given a smokey nicotine blues-drawl by Jack Northover, an upcoming English alt-folk musician who deserves plaudits for his efforts.
On the second disc, the mood remains a mixture of the morose and the merry, with The TenFiveSixty coming over all Texas and The Cardigans with their passable take on It's My Life, somewhat better than No Doubt's risible effore some years ago, but still a bit soulless if I'm honest. But, as with disc one, there are some game efforts to enjoy on the second volume - The Lovetones, whom I know little about, have actually improved upon the once-clumsy The Party's Over, Matthias Vogt Trio serve up a lounge-jazz version of April 5th and Grandaddy's Jason Lytle hasn't done his chances any harm by sticking to the Talk Talk template for Tomorrow's Started. Also noteworthy are Do Make Say Think's attempt at New Grass (atonal drone jazz from the bowels of some post-rock Shangri-La), Turin Brakes and Goldheart Assembly's acoustically-charged Ascension Day and Chameleon Day, The Black Ships deft treatment of the indisputably fabulous Renee and both versions of I Believe In You by Arcade Fire's Richard Reed Parry and Bon Iver's S. Carey, exemplary covers all.
Mercifully, there aren't many downs - White Lies get all emotional and hamfisted on Give It Up (and I wish they had, to be honest), Joan as Police Woman snarls her way into Myrrhman before saving it with a euphoric cadenza and conclusion and White Belt Yellow Tag over-egg the fist-pumping syn-drums rather too much on Today. Oddity of the pack is Linton Kwesi Johnson and Recoil's rather muddled recountal of Inheritance, a propsect that sounds just as unlikely as it does on paper/screen.
Overall, unlike the mildly-shambolic launch party at 229 Portland Street beforehand (Music great, everything else perplexing - CDs on sale right by the door - we were told in no uncertain terms to "not stop there, go downstairs", which was a nice introduction to the evening - no copies of the book on sale and little in the way of merchandise to ogle at), this CD tribute has successfully surpassed most other of its ilk, usually destined for charity shops or for being turned into dust due to lack of sales. To truly get into the spirit of Talk Talk, you need their back catalogue first but, if you've already been convinced by the real thing, this set serves as a welcome filler before EMI ravage the Hollis canon again for yet another compilation of their faultless work.
Of course what Talk Talk's marvellous musicians will make of this is anyone's guess but I'd wager that they might not baulk at the concept quite as quickly as some fans will. Brave. And capable.
8/10
In 1981, messrs Hollis, Harris, Webb and Brenner were swept along with the New Romantic/synth-pop phenomena, before quickly rejecting any connection with the oeuvre and instead opting to broaden their horizons, sound and reputation as a great live band and become less and less commercial with every album, resulting in the expansive, experimental, feedback-powered, blues-jazz hybrids, Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock. If you're thinking of picking up any instrument or forming a band, I urge you to listen to these two and the preceding triumphant long-player, The Colour of Spring, for inspiration.
Which is something that the thirty or so artists featured on this double-CD tribute have clearly been doing. With the advent of a new biographical tome, artfully compiled with Talk Talk's sleeve-designing James Marsh's images, collated by fan Toby Benjamin and contributed to be several admiring musicians, Fierce Panda have rounded up a few of those performers to select and perform their favourite Talk Talk song, in a style of their choosing. In short, it's a project that could have gone horribly wrong - like Joy Division and The Blue Nile, Mark Hollis's charges remain a band whose canon you should only cover if you are a) brave or b) capable (or both).
Essentially then, Spirit of Talk Talk is a reassuringly decent effort, not without failure but not without at least one disc's worth of solid efforts either. Before breaking down the heroes and villians, it's worth noting that there are some leading acts and artists on here - members of Grandaddy, Arcade Fire, Efterklang, Electric Soft Parade, Bon Iver, Zero 7, Recoil and Talk Talk's own touring band feature throughout, as well as White Lies, Joan as Police Woman, King Creosote, Turin Brakes and Fyfe Dangerfield, plus a welter of bands on the cusp of acclaim.
The album starts with one such act, Lone Wolf (aka Paul Marshall), who turns in a robust rendition of Wealth and a surprisingly fitting one, considering that the track closes out its parent-album, Spirit of Eden. Other notable highlights on disc one include King Creosote's near-skiffle shuffle of Give It Up, Zero 7's fragile reading of the only non-Talk Talk song The Colour of Spring (taken from Hollis' solo album) and the gorgeous It's Getting Late in the Evening given a thoroughly angelic hosanna and choral vibe by Davide Rossi, Nils Fraham and Efterklang's Peter Broderick. The first disc tails off a little after Cresote's jollity, but a surprise inclusion is "?", given a smokey nicotine blues-drawl by Jack Northover, an upcoming English alt-folk musician who deserves plaudits for his efforts.
On the second disc, the mood remains a mixture of the morose and the merry, with The TenFiveSixty coming over all Texas and The Cardigans with their passable take on It's My Life, somewhat better than No Doubt's risible effore some years ago, but still a bit soulless if I'm honest. But, as with disc one, there are some game efforts to enjoy on the second volume - The Lovetones, whom I know little about, have actually improved upon the once-clumsy The Party's Over, Matthias Vogt Trio serve up a lounge-jazz version of April 5th and Grandaddy's Jason Lytle hasn't done his chances any harm by sticking to the Talk Talk template for Tomorrow's Started. Also noteworthy are Do Make Say Think's attempt at New Grass (atonal drone jazz from the bowels of some post-rock Shangri-La), Turin Brakes and Goldheart Assembly's acoustically-charged Ascension Day and Chameleon Day, The Black Ships deft treatment of the indisputably fabulous Renee and both versions of I Believe In You by Arcade Fire's Richard Reed Parry and Bon Iver's S. Carey, exemplary covers all.
Mercifully, there aren't many downs - White Lies get all emotional and hamfisted on Give It Up (and I wish they had, to be honest), Joan as Police Woman snarls her way into Myrrhman before saving it with a euphoric cadenza and conclusion and White Belt Yellow Tag over-egg the fist-pumping syn-drums rather too much on Today. Oddity of the pack is Linton Kwesi Johnson and Recoil's rather muddled recountal of Inheritance, a propsect that sounds just as unlikely as it does on paper/screen.
Overall, unlike the mildly-shambolic launch party at 229 Portland Street beforehand (Music great, everything else perplexing - CDs on sale right by the door - we were told in no uncertain terms to "not stop there, go downstairs", which was a nice introduction to the evening - no copies of the book on sale and little in the way of merchandise to ogle at), this CD tribute has successfully surpassed most other of its ilk, usually destined for charity shops or for being turned into dust due to lack of sales. To truly get into the spirit of Talk Talk, you need their back catalogue first but, if you've already been convinced by the real thing, this set serves as a welcome filler before EMI ravage the Hollis canon again for yet another compilation of their faultless work.
Of course what Talk Talk's marvellous musicians will make of this is anyone's guess but I'd wager that they might not baulk at the concept quite as quickly as some fans will. Brave. And capable.