HOJA PROMOCIONAL DE HAHA SOUND POR BOB STANLEY
Walking into Rough Trade in covent garden some seven years ago, instead of the regulation dub or atonal screech-rock, i heard the oddest space lullaby, a mechanical melancholy waltz. peeking at the record deck, the hand-stamped label told me it was ‘accidentals’, the first single by broadcast. i bought two copies, just in case.
i was intrigued enough to go and see them on their home ground, at the unpromisingly named jug of ale in birmingham the following week. it didn’t live up to its name. with lights and a film show to shame anyone i’d seen in the last five years, it felt more like i’d walked into the party scene in midnight cowboy. this may not have been entirely accidental. broadcast looked incredible. beatnik technicians, fierce concentration. clearly, they cared a lot about their music. and it turned out ‘accidentals’ wasn’t even close to being their best song. pretty soon, i realised they were the group i’d always dreamt about.
the music was bent on fighting the forces of reaction - more radiophonic than radio clash, lalo schifrin instead of led zeppelin. music that tried to break out, burst free into utopia using electronica, twisted samples, perverse rhythms and otherworldly wordless vocals. music that suggested a million new directions, none of them pointing to memphis or moseley shoals. broadcast made further leaps forward, signing to warp and releasing work and non work (a collection of early singles) then the noise made by people in spring 2000.
this was where their pop sensibilities and experimental urges became fully assimilated: ‘papercuts’, ‘come on let’s go’, ‘you can fall’, which director lynne ramsay used as a pivotal song in the film morvern callar.
hardening their aesthetic, they worked their way through three different producers before realising the unspoken understanding that ran between them meant that they were the only people capable of finishing what they’d started. the reviews tripped over themselves with gushing adjectives.
with haha sound even outside studios have been forsaken - it was all recorded in james’ house bar the drums, which were taped in a church hall across the road. the influences are again cinematic (trish references milos forman’s loves of a blonde, hans richter’s dreams that money can buy, and the beautiful czech horror/fairytale valerie and her week of wonders) as much as musical. karl orff’s musica poetica is also cited – "absolutely amazing tunes," says trish, "little christmas songs for kids to sing at school." james plumps for eccentric british jazzman, basil kirchin. they worry that french singers like zouzou and clothilde are too obvious to mention, when they are clearly not. "steve from tommy boy used to laugh because we’d talk about joseph byrd (of electronica pioneers united states of america) as if he was john lennon, like he was the most famous person in america!"
broadcast are not the kind of group who bash you over the head with some coarse gimmick. haha sound steals into your mind, gently drenches it with found sounds and the sweetest melodies. like cindy sherman’s self-portraits, they are beautiful and unsettling - hints of ancient folk song dipped in a world of echo. they are still my favourite group.
~ bob stanley
i was intrigued enough to go and see them on their home ground, at the unpromisingly named jug of ale in birmingham the following week. it didn’t live up to its name. with lights and a film show to shame anyone i’d seen in the last five years, it felt more like i’d walked into the party scene in midnight cowboy. this may not have been entirely accidental. broadcast looked incredible. beatnik technicians, fierce concentration. clearly, they cared a lot about their music. and it turned out ‘accidentals’ wasn’t even close to being their best song. pretty soon, i realised they were the group i’d always dreamt about.
the music was bent on fighting the forces of reaction - more radiophonic than radio clash, lalo schifrin instead of led zeppelin. music that tried to break out, burst free into utopia using electronica, twisted samples, perverse rhythms and otherworldly wordless vocals. music that suggested a million new directions, none of them pointing to memphis or moseley shoals. broadcast made further leaps forward, signing to warp and releasing work and non work (a collection of early singles) then the noise made by people in spring 2000.
this was where their pop sensibilities and experimental urges became fully assimilated: ‘papercuts’, ‘come on let’s go’, ‘you can fall’, which director lynne ramsay used as a pivotal song in the film morvern callar.
hardening their aesthetic, they worked their way through three different producers before realising the unspoken understanding that ran between them meant that they were the only people capable of finishing what they’d started. the reviews tripped over themselves with gushing adjectives.
with haha sound even outside studios have been forsaken - it was all recorded in james’ house bar the drums, which were taped in a church hall across the road. the influences are again cinematic (trish references milos forman’s loves of a blonde, hans richter’s dreams that money can buy, and the beautiful czech horror/fairytale valerie and her week of wonders) as much as musical. karl orff’s musica poetica is also cited – "absolutely amazing tunes," says trish, "little christmas songs for kids to sing at school." james plumps for eccentric british jazzman, basil kirchin. they worry that french singers like zouzou and clothilde are too obvious to mention, when they are clearly not. "steve from tommy boy used to laugh because we’d talk about joseph byrd (of electronica pioneers united states of america) as if he was john lennon, like he was the most famous person in america!"
broadcast are not the kind of group who bash you over the head with some coarse gimmick. haha sound steals into your mind, gently drenches it with found sounds and the sweetest melodies. like cindy sherman’s self-portraits, they are beautiful and unsettling - hints of ancient folk song dipped in a world of echo. they are still my favourite group.
~ bob stanley
SHIVERS INSIDE PART 43 Broadcast – The Noise Made By People – LP BY JOHN CARNEY
It was a bit sneaky the way I managed to get the song used. We were all being humoured and given a chance to get involved. I know my best mate at work thought it was fantastic to get Joy Division’s Atmosphere featured, but that’s not exactly way out these days is it? They’re very classic rock now Joy Division aren’t they? It did work brilliantly though. Very sobering. But Broadcast were less obvious. So when they were in a bit of a rush to put a montage together of Sven’s travels during the half-time of the France v Portugal match, somehow everyone thought the insouciance and unattainability of Trish sort of fitted. I think a few knew it was a bit of a left field pop thing, some thought it was a bit Carpenters or Saint Etienne, and it was that pop sheen that got it through.
I thought it was really funny afterwards when people were reading all sorts of meaning into the way the song was used. The line about “what’s the point in wasting time on people you’ll never know …”. People were tapping way on their blogs about how that was a cunning condemnation of Sven’s selections. Was it heck! We just needed a song to use quickly that was going to be a bit different, and that was the one I was playing most on my iPod. People were too preoccupied by Ronaldo to worry too much about a bit of music. But the response was so good that it got used again to soundtrack Italy’s route to the final. I was so proud of that.
It wasn’t even as though I was the world’s greatest Broadcast fan. I’ve got a few of their records. Love the poppy bits. Hate the twiddly bits. And I don’t think they’ve bettered those few songs on The Noise Made By People. Unchanging Window. Come On Let’s Go. Papercuts. Really lovely. There’s a great bit in Papercuts where Trish sings about writing a page about me in your diary, and the word diary is streched out into three syllables, and that’s really sexy like Rihanna extending her umber-ella. Just everything seemed to fall together on those songs for me. They stepped out of Stereolab’s shadow and stole the show. I had a bit of a crush on the singer too. She had that Sandie Shaw or Francoise Hardy thing going on with her fringe which I’m a sucker for.
The irony is, and this is where I feel a bit of a fraud but hey ho, that Broadcast are about as contemporary as I get. As work gets more pressing, more pressured, and families and things become more important, music takes a bit of a back seat. So I can’t really take credit for being super hip. But the World Cup owes me in a way, so fair’s fair.
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