The Puddle - Secret Holiday / Victory Blues

When I decided to start this project, reviewing vinyl records and their packaging, I knew it would be limiting due to the cost of mailing physical materials, so I am always very thankful when someone chooses to send something over my way for me to write these words within this here website for you all to read my thoughts about their release.  That being said, and having been a distant fan of New Zealand's own Fishrider Riders, I was pleasantly taken aback when their package arrived at our doorstep.

Now, I say "distant fan" not only as a pun due to the mileage between us, but because I truthfully did not own any of their records (until now), but have always had great respect for Fishrider Records and their contributions to the indie pop world.  The Puddle, a band also from New Zealand, apparently have no shortage of prestige themselves.

This particular record Fishrider Records released for The Puddle is not a proper album, rather a double EP: Secret Holiday and Victory Blues.  I almost wish The Puddle gave unique cover artwork for each EP, using each side of the jacket to represent the cover individually.  Fishrider Records delivers a traditional 12inch LP package, with titles and featured artwork on the front, while credits are on the back.  The insert providing additional photographs and lyrics for each song is a comfortably odd 3:4 landscape cut.  I can't help by wonder if its size was driven by economics; printing two insert sheets on one tabloid size sheet of paper and cutting in half (two for one printing).  I love it when positive design characteristics are actually the result a non-creative decision; it's nature's way of keeping the world balanced.

At first glance, or should I say touch, the satin / waxy finish makes you wonder what they are doing down their in New Zealand.  In this post-high-gloss era of printing on the reverse side of the cardstock, satin presents an entirely welcomed veneer. The polypropylene (rather than the standard polyethylene) outter sleeve adds to this mystique.  I'm always (at first glance) impressed by these crystal clear skins, but in the end, prefer the traditional (milkier / heavier) polyethylene protective layers; I find the polypropylene bags can easily tear.

Being a fan of The Puddle's music, and as mentioned before, I do desire something more with the artwork; not just craving some identity for each EP, but some explanation for how the black and white photograph of girls laying on the ground being governed by two goats ties into holidays and the blues.  I don't often require this connection between cover art, album titles, or the music, but for some reason, The Puddle's cover is so strikingly offbeat, yet seemingly with purpose, there has got to be something I am missing.  As I dance around my living room listening to The Puddle, studying their imagery with great effort, I struggle with no relevance, even within the photograph itself and it's featured characters.

Speaking of dancing, have you ever seen Tim Gane from Stereolab dance along as he is playing his guitar during their live shows?  This is me while listening to The Puddle's track "The Vitalist."  I could dance to this song for hours; singing along with George Henderson's perfectly-placed "ba-dah-bahs" and Gavin Shaw's playfully-plucked lead via acoustic guitar (at least I think that is who is doing it and how the lead was constructed).  For me, "The Vitalist" is definitely the stand-out track, and will certainly be played at the discotheque on our next DJ night.

I'm a sucker for the 007-like / spy movie hook with "Decline to Fall."  The lead here, played by a necessary synthesizer, adds to the 1970's aesthetic, while Alan Starrett's viola shares a uniqueness, reminding you that this ain't American.  I also appreciate the Farfisa on "Hydrogen 6," Shaw's glockenspiel on The Puddle's instrumental closer, "Walrus Arabia," and the sadness of "Tender Validation," with a deep cutting Will Sargeant inspired guitar lick.

There is a looseness within The Puddle that excudes confidence and wisdom.  George Henderson's vocal tone is familiar and comforting; I'm guessing Sondre Lerche was influenced by him.  The eclectic instrumentation of The Puddle's lounge-pop compels you to move to section "B" of your record collection, reaching for anything Belle & Sebastian to follow.  Of the two EPs, Secret Holiday makes sense on Side-A; for me, it's the hit single.

Fumaça Preta - Vou-me Libertar

Ready to make it's home in a ol' Wurly jukebox beside some classic funk, Fumaça Preta deliver a stellar no-need-for-artwork 7inch single with "Vou-me Libertar" on lado-a and "Eu Era Um Cão" on lado-b. This is a dead-on example of my favorite kind of single: (again) no artwork (needed), standard record company center labels, large cut hole for a jukebox, black wax, and bad ass music that makes you get up off your tush to keep flipping lado-a to lado-b, back to lado-a, and so on.

I remember being quite intrigued by receiving an envelope from Portugal; I just started this blog, so news must have traveled far, and fast. There was no literature for the release included to learn about what was pressed, and other than obviously being able read the record label's name, Music With Soul, the fact that it was easy to translate "lado" to "side," "Fumaça Preta" being printed on both sides in a way suggesting it may be the bands name, and "Alex Figueira" being credited as the (I am guessing) producer, (breathe, we're almost there) ...I really knew nothing about this record (seriously, that's it - what I just wrote). But I loved it; I couldn't help but play it over and over again (hell, I might have even danced ...I cannot confirm or deny). I didn't care what language the credits were written in or what language the enthusiastic vocalist was singing in, Fumaça Preta was (is) delivering the goods, and those goods were doing me just that.

Their report is absolute vintage. Fumaça Preta is not that horrid funk group made up of some old dudes from that lame 70's high school band that won 3rd place in the town battle of the bands only because the bass player was dating the captain of the cheerleading squad and now owns the used car lot where your uncle Harry picked up his sweet El Camino with original rims he drove you in to go see his old friends from high school get their 'funkadelic review' back together because they were really going through a mid-life-crisis; no, Fumaça Preta is the real McCoy. I honestly did not want to know anything more about these guys, I just wanted to keep playing their record more and more. It wasn't until I began writing this review and needed to check a couple of facts that I ran across Music With Soul's own website and was able to learn a little more about Fumaça Preta and this 7inch. Pretty interesting stuff; in fact, I'm not going to re-write / re-post anything that was already said, but I do encourage you to go to their site and read more for yourself.

These songs are packed with spicy hot Hammond organs dancing around the night club in a way that makes you proud to say this is your hood, wah-wah pedals pumping blood to the pulse of the ever-infectious-non-stop beat the DJ keeps drumming, lead guitars as sharp and sexy as the CFM heels your lady stepped out of the limo with and intends to wear all night long (all, night, long), fuzzy-ass bass lines that you can curl up with as the night grows on and everything begins to feel aaaalllrright, and explosive keyboards that light up the sky while we all celebrate yet another year. As the host of the party welcomes you with open arms, he introduces you to all his friends and immediately makes you feel comfortable (even in another language that is still unclear to me); there are no wallflowers on this record / this is the kind of record that makes a white boy (me) dance. This is also the kind of record that makes me say "To hell with grammatical rules!" and write a lot of (more than normal) run-on sentences to express my excitement. "Here-here!" to freedom of speech (and grammar)! "Chin-Chin!" to Fumaça Preta and Music With Soul!