from Hiromasa Suzuki - Primrose (1978)

That cover pits the threat of some ECM'esque jazz blandness against Suzuki's earlier street cred from his freaky world fusion days, and generally speaking I'd have to say the cover has it. 

Thinking back, that might not seem so surprising if you consider that Suzuki's music, even at its wildest, always flirted with compromise at some level. Just take ロック・ジョイント琵琶 ~ 組曲　ふることふみ (Rock Joint Biwa ~ Kumikyoku Furukotofumi): while the unexpected mix of psychedelic rock with biwa instrumentals and avant-jazz orchestrations (that wouldn't be out of place in the more experimental big band outings from Masahiko Satoh and Toshiyuki Miyama & The New Herd) resulted in some of his finest musical concoctions, it also appears that the recording of some of it was made to share the room with the taping of scenes for a pink film, leading the band, as they leered on occasion at their randy roommates, to let the music follow suit and take on some cheaper 'japsploitation' hues. That's how I explain it, anyway.

On this here Primrose, though, Suzuki wasn't going for compromise; he was going for a complete overhaul, in the form of some well-behaved jazz piano trio. 

Perhaps that was a way to dilute the questioning more far-out artists can so often face, in art forms where a certain technical proficiency sets the bar for recognition, on whether they can actually play it straight; but if you're one of those people who feel that pushing the boundaries is no less a distinctive artistic feat than honing a craft defined by a clear set of skills (feats which may coexist in the same artist, but not at all necessarily), you probably can't help but question what's the point in proving you can pull off something (which you might argue he (partly) did; at least "Crystal" is a lovely ballad) that thousands of other artists have pulled off before on a million other records. 

That is a question this album doesn't seem to have any real answer for, or is even remotely concerned with, so it might have been pointless to ask. Maybe it was just what he felt like doing at the time; 'expectations be damned!' 

Even so, consciously or not, "Dis-charge", shaking the jazzy business as usual with a few extra mood swings, can be thought of as offering a suggestion on how to address the inevitable crossfire of criticisms you'll face when planning to change artistic gears: even if you disappoint everyone at present, it'll still make a difference going forward when you do it with panache.

from The Ladytron (2000)

I first heard this album in the middle of one of the playlists I sometimes put together to fill up a whole busy workday with music (when I won't have time to cyclically pick and choose what to listen to next), and while I couldn't identify it, I kept thinking I had heard it before (which is why I resisted the urge to confirm what it might be, forcing my failing memory to work for it (which is why it was a relief to find out by the end that my personal Mnemosyne was right in turning me down)). As a result, that unwitting listening experiment was thus testament not only to this music's efficacy as a throwback to (neo-)psychedelic times, but also to its limitations in affirming an autonomous identity (which I guess could be expected from a band that took its name from another band's song - even if they don't really sound like Roxy Music). The (nearly) final track "Nighty Nite", though, sweet and creepy, like a lullaby sung by the monsters under your bed, does feel entirely their own, and I sure would have liked to hear an entire album that lived up to that tune. Unfortunately, as the story goes, after that it was lights out, and they were never to be heard from again...

from Video-Aventures - Musiques pour garçons et filles (1981) [EP]

I went into this french minimal wave thing expecting nothing, then realized all the eccentric talent that had played a part in it (from Gilbert Artman to Guigou Chenevier, by way of Cyril Lefebvre and Jean-Pierre Grasset) and got excited, only to end up being more deflated by its incipient electronic dabblings. 

Sure, its whole demeanour, like that of someone shrugging their shoulders at everything and going 'bof', may bear some of the allure that aloofness holds over those souls who believe that they deserve no better, or that unattainability is what determines the inherent value of things; and the basic interplay between short-circuiting synths and electric guitars does show some potential; but then it just seems like they can't be bothered to do much with it because, I don't know, l'ennui?... Maybe. 

Regardless of the more or less facetious reasons why, the inclusion of a number like "Tina", with its electronic gusts blowing trippy guitar lines up into the air, is enough to show that they could have tried a bit harder on the rest, to rather more satisfying results (maybe they did on their first LP... I'll have to check it out at some point). 

In the meantime, a CD reissue of this only reinforced that point as, among its abundant bonus tracks, we can find another one, "صحراء", whose (as advertised) arabic atmosphere, both rarefied and effective, can't help but further highlight that crucial artistic distinction to be had, between adhering to a minimal aesthetic, and just being a little bit lazy (though I can sympathize).