★★★★ MOJO Review: Between My Head And The Sky
Yoko Ono Plastic Ono Band
★★★★
Between My Head And The Sky
(Chimera)
Carry on screaming
Quintessential divider of opinion returns with new band.
By Victoria Segal, Mojo
When it comes to topping the dance charts, septuagenarians are a poorly represented demographic. It was gladdening, then, to see Yoko Ono at Number 1 in Billboard's Hot Dance Club Play Songs chart in June with remixes of I'm Not Getting Enough, from 2001's Blueprint For A Sunrise. Maybe it's just a sad reflection of an ageist society that this is so remarkable; maybe there are hundreds of pensioners out there, unblessed/uncursed by Ono's public profile, making experimental musical in their sheds. More likely, however, is that Ono remains a startling one-off, a curiosity even after five decades in the public eye.
That she remains driven to make music - let alone music of this challenging calibre - is admirable in itself. After all, she can't be doing it to boost her pension or preserve the unequivocal love of an adoring public. Saying that, her stock is at a high: 2007's reputation-rejuvenating remix album Yes, I'm A Witch aligned her with the likes of The Flaming Lips, Cat Power and Antony Hegarty, while this year's appearance at Ornette Coleman's Meltdown was a scene-stealing event.
It's no longer iconoclastic to lionise Ono and Between My Head And The Sky - her first album to use the Plastic Ono Band name since 1973's Feeling The Space - offers abundant evidence of artistic possibility beyond the Fab-Foursquare history of rock.
With its finger on the pulse and an eye on the past, this record splits its personality into dreamy nocturnes and Janovian spasms, deadpan electro and rock frenzy. When Ono really unhinges her voicebox, there is a pleasing (although naturally distorted) echo of earlier work, especially in the wind-tunnel howl of Waiting For The D Train or the mariachi-Can of Hashire, Hashire. It's occasionally a bit self-satisfied - perhaps inevitably with a band, including Sean Lennon, Yuka Honda from Cibo Matto and members of Cornelius, that's the essence of late-'90s New York art scene - and for an artist capable of conceptual rigour, her more cosmic moments can seem feeble.
Healing, with its plea to change "negative energy", is a weak new-age infusion compared with the terse electro snap of The Sun Is Down! (Cornelius Mix) or the abstract funk wobble of Ask The Elephant! The opaque meditations that close the record, meanwhile, work all the better for guarding their mystery, especially the windborne piano spores of Higa Noboru, unfolding like a picnic blanket at Hanging Rock. Between My Head And The Sky is an intriguing record, crackling with an excitement that most new artists would struggle to generate, let alone any of Ono's rock-royalty peers. At 76, she is moving further into the zone - and there's nothing comfortable about it.
More info: www.YOPOB.com
★★★★ MOJO Review: Between My Head And The Sky
Yoko Ono Plastic Ono Band
★★★★
Between My Head And The Sky
(Chimera)
Carry on screaming
Quintessential divider of opinion returns with new band.
By Victoria Segal, Mojo
When it comes to topping the dance charts, septuagenarians are a poorly represented demographic. It was gladdening, then, to see Yoko Ono at Number 1 in Billboard's Hot Dance Club Play Songs chart in June with remixes of I'm Not Getting Enough, from 2001's Blueprint For A Sunrise. Maybe it's just a sad reflection of an ageist society that this is so remarkable; maybe there are hundreds of pensioners out there, unblessed/uncursed by Ono's public profile, making experimental musical in their sheds. More likely, however, is that Ono remains a startling one-off, a curiosity even after five decades in the public eye.
That she remains driven to make music - let alone music of this challenging calibre - is admirable in itself. After all, she can't be doing it to boost her pension or preserve the unequivocal love of an adoring public. Saying that, her stock is at a high: 2007's reputation-rejuvenating remix album Yes, I'm A Witch aligned her with the likes of The Flaming Lips, Cat Power and Antony Hegarty, while this year's appearance at Ornette Coleman's Meltdown was a scene-stealing event.
It's no longer iconoclastic to lionise Ono and Between My Head And The Sky - her first album to use the Plastic Ono Band name since 1973's Feeling The Space - offers abundant evidence of artistic possibility beyond the Fab-Foursquare history of rock.
With its finger on the pulse and an eye on the past, this record splits its personality into dreamy nocturnes and Janovian spasms, deadpan electro and rock frenzy. When Ono really unhinges her voicebox, there is a pleasing (although naturally distorted) echo of earlier work, especially in the wind-tunnel howl of Waiting For The D Train or the mariachi-Can of Hashire, Hashire. It's occasionally a bit self-satisfied - perhaps inevitably with a band, including Sean Lennon, Yuka Honda from Cibo Matto and members of Cornelius, that's the essence of late-'90s New York art scene - and for an artist capable of conceptual rigour, her more cosmic moments can seem feeble.
Healing, with its plea to change "negative energy", is a weak new-age infusion compared with the terse electro snap of The Sun Is Down! (Cornelius Mix) or the abstract funk wobble of Ask The Elephant! The opaque meditations that close the record, meanwhile, work all the better for guarding their mystery, especially the windborne piano spores of Higa Noboru, unfolding like a picnic blanket at Hanging Rock. Between My Head And The Sky is an intriguing record, crackling with an excitement that most new artists would struggle to generate, let alone any of Ono's rock-royalty peers. At 76, she is moving further into the zone - and there's nothing comfortable about it.
More info: www.YOPOB.com