The Album Review Club - Week #145 - (page 1923) - Tellin' Stories - The Charlatans

It’s an album for you to put on (hopefully a good hi fi) late at night when the world is out of sorts and let its subtle magic wash over you like a warm bath. Let the melancholy vocals sooth you, let the waves of glistening synths lap against your consciousness. Let its delicate beauty wash away your cares and leave you cleansed.
Don’t have a high quality hi fi. Don’t have a bath, just a shower. Might have to rely on the Redbreast 21 for the lapping against my consciousness bit.
 
Definitely not, but with a glass of bourbon before bed, it would be a nice addition. Almost more ambient musically than any other category, but down-in-the-dumps enough lyrically to work in a smoky lonely-hearts bar at 1 AM on a Saturday night too. Atmospheric is the word I'm looking for, but, as I said, not in a bad way.
Great suggestion, so with everything going on in England right now with "Don't Look Back in Anger" playing at the Euros watch party on my post-match show, this will not be one I'm playing tonight either! ;-)

I've had two listens during work today before the match and really enjoy the variety that is presented here from everyone. Probably never would have found this otherwise, so kudos to @Saddleworth2!

And kudos to Ollie Watkins and Cole Palmer too while we're at it! Nice to see Stones and Walker hugging in celebration afterwards.
 
Hats – The Blue Nile

This is definitely an album where the songs work as a package without any true standouts.

Lyrically, this album works best when the words combine with the music to paint pictures of places. I always prefer lyrics that either put a character in a place, or that at least make mention of physical places and situations, as opposed to those that are more abstract. So, when Paul Buchanan sings “Workin' night and day, the railroad and the fence / Watch the train go roll around the bend” in “Over the Hillside”, I can visualise him in that situation and it helps the song work. Might sound weird, but I know what I mean!

On "From a Late Night Train”, the imagery of “The cigarettes, the magazines / All stacked up in the rain / There doesn't seem to be a funny side" is actually a good combination of the physical and the abstract.

The instruments are pure 80s, none of the gritty strings and acoustics that I’d usually favour, but that’s OK for the most part because I think a keyboard or synth works very well for songs that are trying to conjure an atmosphere. On the songs here, those synths are used as texture that creates the mood and not in a gratuitous way that grates.

There are not really any standout instrumental parts here; a bit of nice choppy guitar towards the end of “The Downtown Lights”, some piano on “Headlights on Parade” and a few bits and pieces scattered throughout.

As @Saddleworth2 sent me the details of this album last week, I’ve had a good few opportunities to listen to it, including midnight on Saturday, in a darkened room with my headphones. It should come as no surprise that this is the situation it works best in. The low-key, textured, atmospheric approach of Hats reminded me of a couple of Robbie Robertson albums that I have, which I listened to straight after, in the same setting, and it helped me fall asleep – which was the intention!

EDIT: Just noticed that all three members of The Blue Nile played on one of Robbie Robertson's albums - this makes sense.

I’ve got it loaded onto on phone and may just listen to it in the hotel on a quick trip to Spain this weekend.

Not one for the BPM crowd, this is a soothing balm of an album, which I think we all need from time to time. 8/10
 
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Hats – The Blue Nile

This is definitely an album where the songs work as a package without any true standouts.

Lyrically, this album works best when the words combine with the music to paint pictures of places. I always prefer lyrics that either put a character in a place, or that at least make mention of physical places and situations, as opposed to those that are more abstract. So, when Paul Buchanan sings “Workin' night and day, the railroad and the fence / Watch the train go roll around the bend” in “Over the Hillside”, I can visualise him in that situation and it helps the song work. Might sound weird, but I know what I mean!

On "From a Late Night Train”, the imagery of “The cigarettes, the magazines / All stacked up in the rain / There doesn't seem to be a funny side" is actually a good combination of the physical and the abstract.

The instruments are pure 80s, none of the gritty strings and acoustics that I’d usually favour, but that’s OK for the most part because I think a keyboard or synth works very well for songs that are trying to conjure an atmosphere. On the songs here, those synths are used as texture that creates the mood and not in a gratuitous way that grates.

There are not really any standout instrumental parts here; a bit of nice choppy guitar towards the end of “The Downtown Lights”, some piano on “Headlights on Parade” and a few bits and pieces scattered throughout.

As @Saddleworth2 sent me the details of this album last week, I’ve had a good few opportunities to listen to it, including midnight on Saturday, in a darkened room with my headphones. It should come as no surprise that this is the situation it works best in. The low-key, textured, atmospheric approach of Hats reminded me of a couple of Robbie Robertson albums that I have, which I listened to straight after, in the same setting, and it helped me fall asleep – which was the intention!

EDIT: Just noticed that all three members of The Blue Nile played on one of Robbie Robertson's albums - this makes sense.

I’ve got it loaded onto on phone and may just listen to it in the hotel on a quick trip to Spain this weekend.

Not one for the BPM crowd, this is a soothing balm of an album, which I think we all need from time to time. 8/10
That’s a fine review Rob. I’m really pleased you liked it. Particularly as I thought you wouldn’t. They have in the past collaborated with a host of musicians including Robbie Robertson. I’m sure they did some stuff with Peter Gabriel too.
 
That’s a fine review Rob. I’m really pleased you liked it. Particularly as I thought you wouldn’t. They have in the past collaborated with a host of musicians including Robbie Robertson. I’m sure they did some stuff with Peter Gabriel too.
I've spoken before about the incredibly productive period that Daniel Lanois spent in New Orleans in the late 80s/early 90s, and Robbie Robertson was part of that scene. It doesn't surprise me that Robertson chose The Blue Nile to play on his Storyville album because I think that the artists clearly share the same production philosophy.

I've also spoken of my love for records that create an atmosphere and have even nominated one on this thread - Josh Ritter's So Runs The World Away. Another that was met with a cool reception on here!

So, yes, I did enjoy Hats. It's an album that you get the most out of in a quiet setting, but there's definitely a place for that kind of album in my life, even if it doesn't have accordions, mandolins, banjos or power chords.
 
At some point our children stop wanting us to sing lullabies to them. I don’t remember when it was with mine, but I remember conflicting feelings about the fact they no longer felt the need for them. Great that they felt secure enough to do without them and to see them growing and developing before my eyes but sad that a particular time had passed.

But I never really gave a thought to the lullabies themselves. Like imaginary friends, stopped in their tracks, put aside never to grow and develop with the child they had once offered so much to.

But what if the lullaby wasn’t abandoned in infancy, what if lullabies did indeed adapt and grow with us even into adulthood?

What if instead of always taking us to our chosen destination, the lullaby could take a more nuanced tone, maybe even a darker noirish one, reflective of the fact that our dreamland doesn’t always turn out to be the destination we dreamt it to be?

What if the perspective changed from calming pastoral scenes to the rain splattered window of the cab with the orange sodium streetlights reflected in the droplets.

What if the narrative changed from sleepy heads on pillows, to heads lying on partially misted glass; as you both stare out of your side of the cab because, even as you still tightly clutch each other hands, you know it isn’t going to end well but you are not yet ready for it to end at all?

What if someone could make grown up lullabies and treat them a bit like classical movements within a single bigger 38 minute lullaby?

Well, it wouldn’t be a lullaby then, would it?

But what if, after all that mutation to account for our messier more complicated adult lives and all that increased sophistication to feed our more nuanced brains, what if it still sounded like a lullaby because it still cocooned you in warmth and humanity and it was, despite the accumulated scars, still about and stood above all else on the side of love.

Well, in that case you’d have created Hats by The Blue Nile.

9/10.
 
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At some point our children stop wanting us to sing lullabies to them. I don’t remember when it was with mine, but I remember conflicting feelings about the fact they no longer felt the need for them. Great that they felt secure enough to do without them and to see them growing and developing before my eyes but sad that a particular time had passed.

But I never really gave a thought to the lullabies themselves. Like imaginary friends, stopped in their tracks, put aside never to grow and develop with the child they had once offered so much to.

But what if the lullaby wasn’t abandoned in infancy, what if lullabies did indeed adapt and grow with us even into adulthood?

What if instead of always taking us to our chosen destination, the lullaby could take a more nuanced tone, maybe even a darker noirish one, reflective of the fact that our dreamland doesn’t always turn out to be the destination we dreamt it to be?

What if the perspective changed from calming pastoral scenes to the rain splattered window of the cab with the orange sodium streetlights reflected in the droplets.

What if the narrative changed from sleepy heads on pillows, to heads lying on partially misted glass; as you both stare out of your side of the cab because, even as you still tightly clutch each other hands, you know it isn’t going to end well but you are not yet ready for it to end at all?

What if someone could make grown up lullabies and treat them a bit like classical movements within a single bigger 38 minute lullaby?

Well, it wouldn’t be a lullaby then, would it?

But what if, after all that mutation to account for our messier more complicated adult lives and all that increased sophistication to feed our more nuanced brains, what if it still sounded like a lullaby because it still cocooned you in warmth and humanity and it was, despite the accumulated scars, still about and stood above all else on the side of love.

Well, in that case you’d have created Hats by The Blue Nile.

9/10.
Bloody hell mate. That review alone made my return to this thread 100% worthwhile. When I put this album up for review I didn't think many would like it never mind connect with it emotionally as you have. Have you always liked the band?
 
At some point our children stop wanting us to sing lullabies to them. I don’t remember when it was with mine, but I remember conflicting feelings about the fact they no longer felt the need for them. Great that they felt secure enough to do without them and to see them growing and developing before my eyes but sad that a particular time had passed.

But I never really gave a thought to the lullabies themselves. Like imaginary friends, stopped in their tracks, put aside never to grow and develop with the child they had once offered so much to.

But what if the lullaby wasn’t abandoned in infancy, what if lullabies did indeed adapt and grow with us even into adulthood?

What if instead of always taking us to our chosen destination, the lullaby could take a more nuanced tone, maybe even a darker noirish one, reflective of the fact that our dreamland doesn’t always turn out to be the destination we dreamt it to be?

What if the perspective changed from calming pastoral scenes to the rain splattered window of the cab with the orange sodium streetlights reflected in the droplets.

What if the narrative changed from sleepy heads on pillows, to heads lying on partially misted glass; as you both stare out of your side of the cab because, even as you still tightly clutch each other hands, you know it isn’t going to end well but you are not yet ready for it to end at all?

What if someone could make grown up lullabies and treat them a bit like classical movements within a single bigger 38 minute lullaby?

Well, it wouldn’t be a lullaby then, would it?

But what if, after all that mutation to account for our messier more complicated adult lives and all that increased sophistication to feed our more nuanced brains, what if it still sounded like a lullaby because it still cocooned you in warmth and humanity and it was, despite the accumulated scars, still about and stood above all else on the side of love.

Well, in that case you’d have created Hats by The Blue Nile.

9/10.
Beautiful stuff. The album doesn't make me as sleepy as it has seemed to do to you and others but I think you've nailed a big chunk of the appeal
 

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