The thrill of the new: No.7

Hello. My name isn't orfeo, and I'm a Moloko addict.

It's all the website's fault. The majority of official band websites are fairly sad and useless affairs when it comes to actually hearing a decent amount of the music of someone you haven't heard before, although the situation seems to be gradually improving. It's slightly bizarre that the best band website I've ever come across belongs to a group that broke up about three years ago.

Then again, 'slightly bizarre' is an excellent description of Moloko. One review I've come across described them as "the band that the word 'quirky' was invented for".

I'm sure I've indicated on this blog before my distate for and frustration with dance music. Repetitive loops that show no sign of reaching a destination will never constitute decent music in my book (and it doesn't matter whether they're served up by a DJ or in a completely different context by that sad excuse for a classical composer, Philip Glass). What I want to dance to are songs.

Moloko served up great, great dance songs.

Often nonsensical songs, mind you, which used to disturb me a bit. Then again, given that my favourite singer comes up with lines like 'tuna rubber a little blubber in my igloo', it's a little difficult to complain. And when it comes to dancing, nonsensical lyrics don't seem to matter too much, so long as the music is good enough. Something along the lines of the following imagined conversation happened on several occasions early on in my encounter with Moloko's website:

Head: This song is silly. The chorus consists of people shouting 'Rameses! Colossus!' and a woman singing 'Indigo here we go-oh-oh'.

Foot: I don't care.

Head: Wait a minute... you're tapping. You never tap. Sure, the middle part of the body sometimes twists about a bit, but I can't even remember the last time you tapped.

Foot: Shut up and come back in four minutes.

After half a dozen or so of these conversations, my head admitted defeat, and my foot continues to look forward to the moment when a bunch of people start shouting 'Rameses! Colossus!'. And there are several songs better than that one.

I already knew about Moloko because they'd had a couple of minor hits here in Australia, which were apparently enormous hits in their native United Kingdom. One of these, The Time Is Now, transfixed me the first time I heard/saw it on a music television channel in my hotel room back in 2000, and not once has its magic failed. The thing is, I haven't had many opportunities to hear it in the last five years or so. I sampled the album it comes from but couldn't persuade myself at the time that it was a worthwhile purchase, and as it faded from the airwaves it became nothing more than an extremely fond infrequent memory. Moloko's next (and last) album managed a very small ripple, and that was pretty much it.

Nevertheless, because I totally adored that one song and had found the few others I'd heard at least vaguely interesting, I took notice when I discovered a few months ago that a best of called Catalogue was being released. So I headed for the website.

What greeted me was a page that didn't just have short samples of a few songs on Catalogue. It had full length streaming videos for all but one of them. Videos that were a large enough size to actually be watchable. And for the remaining song, there was streaming audio that ran for a couple of minutes. Basically, the album was available for free, so long as you were prepared to be tied to your computer and use a little bandwidth. The format meant that the video only had to be downloaded once and would then stay in the temporary internet files folder, so repeat viewings were simple.

I came to realise that in some instances the video wasn't actually the same version as is on the album - for example, the album has the full-length version of Pure Pleasure Seeker instead of the radio edit, and the only video ever made for Statues was a live version - but that didn't really matter. It still gave me a chance to pretty well know what I would be getting if I spent money on the CD.

What ended up happening is that I went back to the website three days in a row to listen to the songs. I figured after that I would be buying the CD. When I discovered that I had had Forever More in my head virtually non-stop for about a week, with the only interruptions being supplied by occasional bouts of The Time Is Now, I figured I would be buying the CD as soon as humanly possible, if only so that I had a chance to get on with life.

The strategy didn't entirely work. I got the CD, but at times that has only meant that my obsession has been portable and in better quality sound. Last week at work when things were pretty stressful, I must have played it at least 4 or 5 times so that I could tap into the adrenaline rush and enjoy what I was doing. I got to change things up a little by playing the live bonus disc that has almost the same tracklisting as the main disc.

And I want more.

For a start, I want the single of Forever More, because it's one of those tracks where the video is the single version (about 3:45) and the CD is the album version (about 7:20). The single version is one of those pieces of music I love for its relentless single-mindedness (pun not intended). There's nothing I enjoy more than the pursuit of a single musical idea, so long as that idea is a good one (and notice it's pursuit, not repetition). And Forever More has one of the most mind-numbingly catchy bass lines I've ever come across. Better yet, whoever directed the video understood this and translated it into visual form.

The long version gradually mutates the idea and turns from robotic electronics into something you might expect to hear in New Orleans. I've come to love this as well, but I still want to be able to have the short form as an option. So the CD single - which includes the video - is on the shopping list.

And I've also got my eye on a copy of the Statues album, because one of the local department stores still has a cheap copy of a special edition that has all the other commcercial videos on it! This thing must have been sitting in K-Mart for about 4 years, waiting for me to discover it while whole swathes of Black Eyed Peas albums marched in and out of the store. The only reason I didn't buy it on sight was because I was too stunned to make a decision, and because it didn't have Forever More as that video hadn't been made yet. But it had The Time Is Now, which is every bit as visually brilliant. And it sure doesn't hurt the eye to have frequent close-ups of Roisin Murphy, the lead singer.

Of course, all these videos will still be only on my computer screen, but hopefully in an even better resolution. Now if they get around to releasing them on DVD...

I told you, I'm an addict.