The Perfect Kiss Disconnect, Shelleyan Orphan Boxset
The Perfect Kiss
Disconnect
(Elefant)
While vacations are great opportunities to see and experience something new, they also give you a good excuse to not check your email every five minutes.
There can be a strange feeling of both envy and pity, ironically, toward those who don’t engage in the world of social media, and with this in mind, the new mini-album (available on 10-inch vinyl and as a digital download) from the British duo The Perfect Kiss, Disconnect, is a deeply critical look at the effect of the media and technology on relationships and mental well-being.
Formed by Joe Moore (also of The Yearning and a collaborator with Lia Pamina) with vocalist Holly Vanags, the underlying cynicism is belied by the cheerful electro-pop that may appeal to fans of Au Revoir Simone or Ladytron, taking inspiration from bands including New Order (whose title “The Perfect Kiss” was borrowed for the band name) and the Human League.
Artists know that one way to spur creativity is to set up arbitrary limitations; in this case, Moore chose to only use a single instrument to make the sounds on Disconnect: an inexpensive Yamaha PortaSound PSS-450 keyboard from 1985.
Despite this method, Disconnect doesn’t sound low-fidelity or cheap, and Moore has wrenched out a sound palette that’s wider than what one might expect.
“Broadcast (From You to Me)” takes a shot at self-absorbed narcissists who use social media as one-way channels to broadcast their immodesty, and “Just Like the Moon” focuses on empty echoing, with people simply mindlessly regurgitating rather than creating. Vanags sings with a uniform, unfussy prettiness even when she obsesses, “Will I still be clubbing at 30?” and eventually admits in another track “I don’t want to be part of this.”
Although Moore stated that this project was simply a diversion which he didn’t take very seriously, it’s an excellent slice of synth-pop with tight arrangements and straightforward, yet biting social commentary hidden by the sheen of artificial beauty.
Shelleyan Orphan
Boxset
(One Little Indian)
“If winter comes, can spring be far behind?” Asked in “Ode to the West Wind” by poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, this question feels appropriate for the British band Shelleyan Orphan, which took its name from Shelley; after the passing, much too soon, of co-founder, songwriter and lead singer Caroline Crawley last October, the new 4-CD, 1-DVD collection Boxset is a welcome blossom and treasure trove, containing the band’s original three-album run, a bonus CD and a DVD with three music videos and three live videos.
The group—formed in the early ‘80s by Crawley and Jem Tayle and augmented with string and woodwind players—was disparagingly called “Pre-Raphaelite fruitcakes” for its whiff of preciousness and aesthetic that brought to mind a sort of pastoral romanticism. This is a band whose concerts included a live painter and had a music video (“Shatter”) that recreated John Everett Millais’ famous Pre-Raphaelite painting “Ophelia.”
Another easy target was Tayle’s high, fey voice that wasn’t quite the masculine counterpart to Crawley’s exquisite singing. However, for those willing to enter this world of farmhouses, nature-frolicking and baroque-inspired chamber music, Shelleyan Orphan could scratch a certain itch that nobody else could.
The 1987 debut Helleborine is a gentle, spry outing that reveals a band that emerged fully formed, with tidy and elegant string/woodwind arrangements and pert vocal melodies and harmonies. The follow-up, Century Flower from 1989, is even better, with a few more vaguely jazzy flavors, spirited pop moments (“The Silent Day,” “Between Two Waves”) and subtler songs with stunning beauty (“Tar Baby,” “Self”).
1992’s Humroot—the last Shelleyan Orphan album until 2008’s We Have Everything We Need—shows the band perhaps spreading its wings a bit further with a bigger sound with more prominent drums and percussion; while some tracks offer folk flavors and instrumentation (including a hurdy-gurdy and dulcimer), on the other hand, “Dolphins” is downright cosmopolitan, with a wah guitar, jazzy piano and trumpet.
The biggest draw for fans will be the consistently excellent 77-minute rarities disc, most of which is unreleased material. It begins with two tracks from the group’s 1984 BBC Radio One session, which led to the band being signed to Rough Trade Records, followed by two tracks mixed by Anne Dudley (from the Art of Noise), with a lush classicism, evoking banquet halls with harpsichord and harp flourishes.
The numerous demos show that the group had clear ideas for their songs; although, in the reproduction of a deeply touching hand-written letter included in Boxset, written by Tayle a few weeks after Crawley passed away, he claims, “There was never a plan...never a desire to sound like anyone else or to rule the world.”
Shelleyan Orphan never found wide fame and fortune, but it was a group that was true to its unique vision with tender ambition, dancing its own path through a field of sunflowers.