A selection of invigorating and inventive wares from Andy Bell, Modern Studies and Stealing Sheep & The Radiophonic Workshop

Although spring may still be a little too far away, here are three distinctive releases to provide some uplift, serenity and atmosphere to help see us through to lighter longer days.

Prodigiously prolonging the purple patch of his solo venturing, Ride veteran Andy Bell provides an official sequel to 2020’s The View from Halfway Down with the double-sized Flicker on Sonic Cathedral – that also follows on top of last year’s self-billed singles/EP series and Another View compilation as well as the terrific Pattern Recognition album under his more electronically-centric GLOK alias.

Whereas its formal predecessor pondered upon life at the point of turning fifty, this successor conceptually conceives itself as a series of conversations between Bell and his younger teenage self, to seek out positives for post-middle age living.

Even though there’s a lot to take in all at once, the 18-track collection – which finishes off initial recordings started in 2016 and some songs that were sketched-out even further back – makes generous and thoughtful use of its girth, gliding along as one big flowing thematic journey whilst packing in strong set-piece moments.

Adroitly weaving together pretty much every outfit in Bell’s sonic wardrobe to date, inside lushly-layered yet not over-polished studio settings, Flicker very much sustains the spirit of great double-length sets from The Beatles’ White Album and Hüsker Dü’s Zen Arcade to Yo La Tengo’s I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One and 2021’s Since Grazed by Eleventh Dream Day.

Thus, across the banquet we’re served with backwards vocal scene-setters (“The Sky Without You” and “The Looking Glass”); melodious Michael Rother-infused art-rock (“It Gets Easier” and “Jenny Holzer B. Goode”); matured nods back to the gauziest early Ride classics (“World of Echo” and “Something Like Love”); balmy brass-bolstered salutes to the first three Spiritualized long-players (“Way of the World” and “No Getting Out Alive”); pastoral-psych warmers with strong hints of Syd Barrett and Richard Wright (“We All Fall Down” and “Holiday in the Sun”); dreamily fuzzed-up Kinksian reveries (“Love is the Frequency” and “This is our Year”); well-pitched worship of Tago Mago-era Can (“Sidewinder”); and even a bit of Sam Prekop-meets-Jim O’Rourke electro-acoustic post-jazz (“When the Lights Go Down”).

In short, Flicker is a triumph that previously converted followers and late-comers alike should still be heartily feasting on at the end of this year and beyond.

With their first full album since 2020’s The Weight of the Sun and after two remotely-assembled interim lockdown-era EPs, Scotland’s Modern Studies return in the redemptively rejuvenated form of We are There on Fire Records.

Once again relying heavily of the foursome’s formidable multi-instrumentalist and vocals skills but leaning more on guest string players rather than synths this time around, this is a record that is both sumptuous and soulful.

With the co-leading voices of Emily Scott and Rob St John interlocking with pretty much seamless gracefulness throughout and set in rich but never overcooked arrangements, the ten gathered songs offer solace and comfort but also subtle grit and gravitas.

Hence, proceedings shift through spiralling shapeshifting (“Sink Into”); shades of Curtains-to-Simple Pleasures epoch Tindersticks (“Light a Fire” and “Comfort Me”); a pacier motorik-tinged take on late-period Talk Talk (“Two Swimmers”); psych-folk with subtly swelling Celtic choral blissfulness (“Wild Ocean”), Hot Buttered Soul-meets-Poet, Fool or Bum grandness (“Won’t Be Long” and “Mothlight”); Joni Mitchell-goes-Dave Brubeck slinkiness (“Do You Wanna”); and touches of solo years Scott Walker (“Winter Springs”).

All wrapped-up in a calming and commanding cohesiveness, this is the finest Modern Studies full-length since 2018’s still wonderful Welcome Strangers.

At the far more outré end of the current Fire Records release schedule is La Planète Sauvage, a coupling of Liverpool art-pop trio Stealing Sheep with the latter-day incarnation of The Radiophonic Workshop, which first appeared in very limited Dinked vinyl form late last year but is now given a wider release on regular vinyl and CD.

As a live recording of a reimagined soundtrack to the animated 1973 French sci-fi film of the same name this is certainly quite a niche proposition. However, it’s certainly far more enjoyable from the outset than Stealing Sheep’s all-too-glossy 2019 album, Big Wows.

Returning to and expanding upon the more angular melodies and rubbery rhythms of the threesome’s earlier works but dropping their vocals almost entirely to allow The Radiophonic Workshop to add in spoken-word narration passages and inimitable blends of theremin, synths and otherworldly effects, makes for a challenging yet oddly entrancing affair.

While listening to La Planète Sauvage in the absence of any accompanying cinema visuals means it’s harder to absorb at first, the relative rawness and variety gradually unfurls as a vivid concoction. This translates into the conjoining ensembles veering through guitar-led psych-rock (“The Chase” and “The Fight”), astral noise-funnelling and dainty twinkling (“Terr & Tiwa”), mysterious 70s Doctor Who score burbling (“The Knowledge Pt. I” and “Robot Attack”), jerky avant-funk skronk (“The Duel” and “The Final Battle”) and lots more besides, with plenty collaborative push and pull.

This is perhaps an odd pairing of two quite distinctive groups but one that bears some intriguing and charming creative fruit.

Adrian
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