So, a little behind-the-scenes review commentary before I get into this discussion of Dance Hall at Louse Point. I don’t know if you generally have a routine for writing about music, but mine is to try and listen to the album at least twice; once at home and then once as I travel for my daily routines. I then put the album on as I write these pieces, mainly so I can listen to the tracks one by one for their individual listings.
I mention this because my write up for this record was somewhat different. If I had followed this routine to the dot I would have come here today and told you I didn’t really like this album; that I found it somewhat repetitive and at times hard to listen to. But just as I was ready to write this the last track, “Lost Fun Zone,” was finishing its refrain of “take me one more time” repeated over and over again. So that’s what I did. I took the record for a listen one more time, and I’m glad I did. This will not be a favourite PJ Harvey album of mine, but its wrestling and somewhat abrasive sound was definitely one that rewarded repeated listens.
Of course there is another person we should be talking about, mainly the songwriter: John Parish. He worked with Harvey a lot on To Bring You My Love, and here he shows that he has very similar sensibilities of experimental blues rock. Tracks like “Civil War Correspondent” and the synth bass in “Heela,” which would not have sounded out of place on the previous album. But he has his own discernible differences as well, mainly a sense of ringing acoustics on a track like “Rope Bridge Crossing”, and whereas Harvey would use a rock organ Parish does not mind going for a good old chapel organ. But a quality I wasn’t so keen on his habit of repetition, be it the same chord or chord interludes multiple times. True, repetition is a corner stone of music, and the patterns allow the vocals and other instruments to move around the track (also many rock, punk and minimalist songs gleefully use repeating patterns; I’m a Fall fan, I can’t hate repetition), but the length and pace of songs “Un Cercle Autour Du Soleil” sometimes wears thin. Or this record’s version of “Is That all there Is”, which is a very interesting cover in terms of how it transforms Betty Lee’s wilting original into a kind of gothic theatre, but being the longest track on the album and having a very different aesthetic to the rest album really puts things to a stop.
So given my complaints, why did I come away liking this record (that hopefully has nothing to do with certain canons of music)? Well it was that aforementioned looseness, that willingness to sometimes let songs and sections go on for as long or as short as they think it should. When it works, that leads to some great short tracks, like the first and last tracks, the title song and the very abrasive “City of No Sun.”
It’s here in particularly where Harvey comes into the equation; with the song writing abilities being taken care of Harvey’s concerns are for vocals and lyrics. It’s been mentioned here a few times the instrumental qualities of Harvey’s voice, but never has it been more prominent than on this record. Whereas on “Meet za Monsta” she talked about the monster of nature, in songs like “City or No Sun” or the aforementioned “Taut” is she is that monster of nature, with whispers and vocals that aren’t “pleasant”, but give an operatic performance to what she is doing.
Harvey uses imagery here old and new. On “Taut” she returns to the imagery of cars and bikes that we say on the 4-Track Demos, and on places like the final track she again returns to Christian iconography. but conversely she uses much imagery of the Sun (very overtly on song titles), whereas as the previous album she would have used the imagery of water. On the lyrics here almost everything that Harvey touches, from vehicles to Cities to the circus, become mythologised, to the point where the Dance Hall in question becomes the musical resting place for the many people and creatures Harvey displays on this record.
Dance Hall at Louse Point is the kind of record that displays some of the problems with doing a whole album review a day, especially from artists who demand a lot from a single listen. Thankfully my willingness to add a little extra commitment meant I came away from this joint project more positive than I could have been, even if I can also blame aspects of the dual artists production. To use a crappy dance analogy, it takes two…
What do you think though?
“Girls”: Not too much to say, in that it is the same low-fi guitar riff played a few times. I’m not sure why it is called “Girls”; maybe it has to do with Harvey’s quiet choral notes that show up on the second half of this 90 minutes. But still a pretty yet haunting way of beginning the album.
“Rope Bridge Crossing”: My favourite track on the album. The way that Harvey’s vocals and the violin strings merge together at the half way point is pure elation. The acoustic guitar sounds newly strung as it rings in the spots the strong electric guitars aren’t occupying as by the end they all lay on top of each other. One of the more melodic tracks on the album next to “That Was My Veil”); maybe the title is indicative of that transition point.
“City of No Sun”: Definitely catches you off guard, as the build up of muted guitars and a softer voice from Harvey makes you think this track is going to go a very different way. But then those screeches come and quell you off that notion. Like the alarmed screams of someone shouting in the dark (definitely emphasises by the “can’t breathe” and “no peace” lyrics.
“That was My Veil”: A great acoustic rock ballad about identity and suffering. “Give back my veil/Give back my time/No more secret/You give me lies” definitely seems like a lyric that encapsulate PJ Harvey of writing about herself and characters. The organ of the second half really helps to give variety and fullness to the sound.
“Urn With Dead Flowers”: Continuing the light imagery by presenting something that without it has died. The percussion in the introduction is lo-fi to the point of almost sounding sampled, but real ones definitely show up for the rocking chorus. My favourite part of this song though are the (I think) chromatic build up in Harvey’s vocals.
“Civil War Correspondent”: The percussion sound of this track, as mentioned above, wouldn’t sound out of place in To Bring You My Love. However there are some weird production choices on this track such as the intro that fades out; it isn’t so much a transition as sticking two different musical ideas together. This is also one that suffers from the somewhat repetition problem. Another great use of the organ sound though.
“Taut”: Definitely a track that lives up to the name. Harvey’s vocal performance here is as extraordinary as it is scary, which is very much accompanied by the strange fills of the percussion. The lo-fi guitar sounds before the chorus build up also greatly heightened this horrific (in a good way) sound. “Even the son of God had to die my darling”; Jesus Christ!
“Un Cercle Autour Du Soleil”: This is another one that I feel suffers from the length and repetition problem. But the guitar licks throughout the number are indeed creepy, and the sliding guitar in the centre does at least help with variety, even if it is for a short amount of time. The vocals in the first half also find Harvey at her most soft and desperate sounding.
“Heela”: A rock number in the vein of “50ft Queenie” and “Long Snake Moan”, particularly the latter. The best part of this song for me is the very liberal use of tremolo guitars that ring and drift throughout it. I also like just how self consciously behind the instrument Harvey’s voice is on this one.
“Is that All There Is”: I really, really wish I liked this one, as it is a very interesting version with an organ sound that really does compliment the lyrics (almost too much). But for more of why I don’t, read above.
“Dance Hall At Louse”: PJ Harvey has previously made her obsession with Captain Beefheart quite overt, but I think this is the first time a song of her has gone full Trout Mask Replica territory. With the clashing guitars playing some different melody and the chaotic drums, all that was missing was the surrealist poetry. As it stands this is the only instrumental. Still great though.
“Lost Fun House”: An abrupt but fun (I suppose ironically considering the lyrics) 90 second song to end the album on. The track-by-track has shown me Parish really likes to move from the lo-fi to big guitar sounds, and he sure does it here as well.
- To Bring You My Love
- Rid of Me
- Dry
- 4-Track Demos
- Dance Hall at Louse Point