Slapp Happy Albums (8)
'Live in Japan May 2000'
Release Date 7/4/2001
Tracks 16
Label F.M.N. Sound Factory
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Nine years on from its original, blink-and-you'll-miss-it release in Japan, Voiceprint unearthed one of the key elements in the Slapp Happy discography, and it truly is as wonderful as rumor always insisted. Recorded at one of several reunions, this once-and-always legendary band have convened in the decades since their 1974 split, Live in Japan is as beautiful, infuriating, and electrifying as the "original" group always was, but its early eccentricity is justified now by the knowledge that their influence has never gone away. It may have crept into earshot without anybody noticing, and theirs might not be a name that the rich and powerful drop too often, but if you can listen to Slapp Happy without picturing what Radiohead (for one) might have sounded like without them, then clearly you're living on another planet. A gorgeous "King of Straw" opens the show, and the mood lingers on through "Slow Moon's Rose." Slowly, however, the band's more eclectic side begins to show, together with the almost maddeningly evasive melodic shimmer that characterized the best of Slapp Happy's early output. "Casablanca Moon" is an especial treasure, retaining every ounce of its original delicacy, while dancing flirtatiously around your ears. Of course, fans can always find something to complain about, and the absence of "Johnny's Dead" from the proceedings is as good a moan as any. But still Live in Japan is essential listening, not only for original fans, but for everyone who's grown up on the band without even being aware of the fact., All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Slapp Happy fans may be in for a shock if they haven't paid careful attention to the liners before slapping on this CD. The first impression is that either Peter Blegvad or Anthony Moore has gone through quite a vocal transformation -- into an operatic tenor, no less. Well, of course it's neither Blegvad nor Moore, but rather tenor John Harris in the role of Forecast, a tax collector. Forecast is one of several key characters in Camera, a television opera, with an occasionally lush orchestral score by Moore, a libretto by Blegvad, and a major performance from Dagmar Krause as the character Melusina. Camera is a magical domain where the laws of nature and society do not apply, and where Melusina resides in utter separation from the world. Forecast is sent to Camera by Hardwicke (Nicole Tibbels), head of the tax office, to collect back taxes from Melusina. However, Forecast is transformed by his visit to Melusina's world and becomes sympathetic to her, which leads to fateful and mysterious turns of events when the cold-hearted Taft (Quentin Hayes) is dispatched by Hardwicke to Camera, charged with succeeding where Forecast failed. There are intriguing concepts and philosophical underpinnings to this work -- for example, did Melusina create Camera or vice versa -- and the sometimes compelling music of this modern opera is well-suited to the dramatic exposition as it unfolds (most, but not all, of the libretto is printed in the CD booklet). Also, as expected, Dagmar is tremendous; she has proven her wide range as a vocalist in both avant-garde and pop recordings, and now excels in this operatic role. With a richer, deeper, and fuller voice than during her earlier days and, as Melusina, not asked to adopt any over-the-top mannerisms, Dagmar walks a line that would seem to appeal to both pop and art music listeners. That's probably not true for the other singers, however, who possess undeniable skill but whose traditional, emotive operatic style may strike Slapp Happy fans as a bit stilted and uptight. In short, Dagmar can walk that line but, on the evidence here, Harris and the others cannot. The likes of Phil Minton and even Kate Westbrook, both of whom handled weighty material with the Mike Westbrook Orchestra, would seem better suited to join Dagmar in giving life to Blegvad's libretto. As for the libretto, Blegvad has found words that are usually poetic and only occasionally awkward, and his existential metaphors are consistently thought-provoking. But perhaps Moore presents the greatest surprise, particularly for those only aware of his work as a solo artist and member of Slapp Happy (including the collaborations with Henry Cow). Moore has, however, studied Indian classical music, composed film soundtracks, and also experimented with tape and sound manipulation during his adventurous and multi-faceted musical career. With Camera, he demonstrates compositional mastery with an extended-form thematic work performed by five singers, the Balanescu Quartet, bassist Chris Laurence, and woodwind and brass sections, with subtle use of experimental sound textures. Moore composed the music in 1991 and Camera was broadcast on Channel 4 in the U.K.; of course, the visual component is entirely missing from this CD and is doubtless an important facet of the overall experience. As it stands, Camera should be of interest to Slapp Happy fans but perhaps more so to fans of the group's individual members: Dagmar the singer, Blegvad the philosopher/wordsmith, and Moore the contemporary classical composer. It's not really an effort by Slapp Happy the band, which should be apparent as soon as John Harris opens his mouth soon after Camera starts spinning. ~ Dave Lynch, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Released in 1998, Slapp Happy's Ça Va was the first album issued by the trio of Dagmar Krause, Peter Blegvad, and Anthony Moore since the mid-'70s collaboration with Henry Cow, Desperate Straights. The arty instrumentation and arrangements of the early days -- which ranged from a rather twisted version of British folk-pop to avant cabaret to (in collaboration with Henry Cow) confrontational art rock and even pure sonic experimentation -- are gone, replaced by a more commercial blend of pop music sounds, including looped samples. Nearly everything is played by Blegvad and Moore, whose vocals sound as engaging as they ever have, with Blegvad the literate and somewhat eccentric transatlantic singer/songwriter and Moore mining moodier John Cale-styled pop/rock territory. Dagmar, however, has nearly abandoned the more boldly uncompromising and theatrical features of her earlier singing with both Slapp Happy and the Art Bears; she retains aspects of her highly original and idiosyncratic vocal style while sounding much more straightforward and at times even romantic. So has Slapp Happy sold out? If you equate broadly appealing music with selling out, perhaps, but because Ça Va is probably Slapp Happy's most accessible effort does not detract from the album's artistry. In fact, the threesome has rarely sounded better. From the first words of "Scarred for Life," as Dagmar sings "Leave me something to remember you by, more than a lock of your hair/Leave me scarred for life, show you really care," it is clear that this is not pop lite. The track features the layered sounds of tremolo guitar, harpsichord, other ethereal keyboards, and deep bass and percussion, with Dagmar intimately forward in the mix. The sound of backward guitar at the song's fade brings in elements of psychedelic pop that also surface elsewhere on the album -- always employed as a bit of sonic flavor and never overindulgent. (The work of producer Laurie Latham -- contemporary yet seemingly geared to listeners attuned to the most creative pop/rock work of Brian Eno, Roxy Music, Talking Heads, and even late-'60s Beatles -- immediately impresses.) In an era when post-rock experimentalism is most likely to garner a band critical favor and cult status, Ça Va seems almost defiantly catchy in its infectious dance-flavored material, including "Moon Lovers" and "Working at the Ministry." In fact, nearly everything on Ça Va is a fine example of pop songcraft -- intelligent, literate, and wry as one would expect from Slapp Happy and with a sense of maturity that casts earlier days in a reflective light. "I was a child then/But I would do the same again," Dagmar sings on "Child Then," adding, "My counsel is my own to keep, and yes my conscience lets me sleep." Krause, Blegvad, and Moore performed some lasting, quirky, yet serious pop music back in the days when they were comparative children, but Ça Va might be the best place to begin investigating them, seasoned by the years yet still retaining a sense of adventure. ~ Dave Lynch, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Originally an eponymously titled debut for Virgin from avant popsters Slapp Happy, Casablanca Moon does not include the same versions of the tunes recorded earlier with Faust, first intended for release by Polydor, and ultimately issued by Recommended Records -- and by Cuneiform with bonus tracks -- under the title Acnalbasac Noom). The group's songwriting had improved since 1972's Sort of...Slapp Happy, and Dagmar Krause's German chanteuse-influenced vocals were presented in catchier settings, although some preferred the comparatively unsophisticated and rockish Faust-backed versions from Acnalbasac Noom to the re-recorded Casablanca Moon tracks, which are backed by session musicians and even a string section. In either case, the lyrics are witty and oddball without being pretentious. Tracks like "Mr. Rainbow" recall Yoko Ono's early-'70s song-oriented material, with an important difference: Krause's vocals are much better than Ono's, while just as distinctive. "The Secret" could even be a potential commercial single. ~ Richie Unterberger & Ted Mills, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
A surprising team up at the time of its release (1975), Desperate Straights is a surprisingly melodic album, light on the art school angst and heavy on the playfulness, which one would hardly expect from such determined socialists as these. But here it is: "Some Questions About Hats" sounds like a Kurt Weill outtake, "A Worm Is at Work" gallops along with a sweet tune. Dagmar Krause remains restrained and not given to flights of horrible fancy. "Strayed" is reminiscient of Kevin Ayers's brand of art rock, and most of the songs clock in under two minutes. But never fear: the album ends on the eight minute "Caucasian Lullaby," a minimal woodwind piece that suddenly bursts into one last jab of Krausian despair. ~ Ted Mills, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The eponymously titled debut for Virgin from avant popsters Slapp Happy includes many of the same songs -- but not the same versions -- of tunes recorded in 1973 with Faust, first intended for release by Polydor, and ultimately issued by Recommended Records (and later by Cuneiform with bonus tracks) under the title Acnalbasac Noom. The group's songwriting had improved since 1972's Sort of...Slapp Happy, and Dagmar Krause's German chanteuse-influenced vocals were presented in catchier settings, although some preferred the comparatively unsophisticated and rockish Faust-backed versions from Acnalbasac Noom to the re-recorded Casablanca Moon tracks (which are backed by session musicians and even a string section). In either case, the lyrics are witty and oddball without being pretentious. Tracks like "Mr. Rainbow" recall Yoko Ono's early-'70s song-oriented material, with an important difference: Krause's vocals are much better than Ono's, while just as distinctive. "The Secret" could even be a potential commercial single. ~ Richie Unterberger & Ted Mills, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The history of this album is a bit complicated. Originally titled Casablanca Moon, it was recorded for Polydor in 1973, but scrapped when the group signed with Virgin; their first Virgin release was an entirely re-recorded version of the same material, although it was entitled Slapp Happy when released. To compound the confusion, the Virgin version was retitled Casablanca Moon when it was reissued on CD in 1993 (on a single-disc release that also included their 1974 Virgin album Desperate Straights). Acnalbasac Noom is the original, 1973 recording of the Casablanca Moon material, and not a mere archival curiosity; it's quite worthy on its own merits. The group's songwriting had improved since their debut, and Krause's German chanteuse-influenced vocals found catchier, more rock-oriented settings. The lyrics are witty and oddball without being pretentious. Tracks like "Mr. Rainbow" recall Yoko Ono's early-'70s song-oriented material, with an important difference: Krause's vocals are much better than Ono's, while just as distinctive. "The Secret," with its almost girl-group-worthy catchiness, and "Charlie 'n Charlie," with its nifty surfish guitar riff, even sound like potential commercial singles. The four bonus tracks include the delightful 1982 single "Everybody's Slimmin'," with its immortal opening line, "Listen my children and you will hear/You can shed weight and still drink beer." ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
'Sort of...Slapp Happy'
Release Date 1/1/1972
Tracks 13
Label Polydor
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Slapp Happy's debut unveiled a band that was not so much an avant-rock group as one that seemed primarily interested in toying with rock conventions, as if such subversion was more inherently worthwhile than playing it straight. That meant that at its least impressive, it didn't qualify as either good avant-rock or good conventional rock, instead lumbering along with self-consciously jagged tunes. It sounds best when Dagmar Krause's vocals come to the forefront, as on "Heading for Kyoto" and the downright poppy "Blue Flower," a pretty folk-rockish number that lifts a hook from the Velvet Underground's "Femme Fatale." "Who's Gonna Help Me Now?" is strange roots-rock, and "Sort Of" a surfish instrumental that sounds like a postmodern "Telstar," all contributing to the feeling that the band was more concerned with tongue-in-cheek eclecticism than moving toward a settled identity. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
