Pros: Tjinder Singh demonstrates a remarkable mastery of musical styles and his flair for pop melodies
Cons: Far too over-indulgent, inconsistent and the second half is chock-full of tedious filler
The Bottom Line: This is a disappointing follow-up to their seminal 1997 release, but does demonstrate how prodigiously Singh has developed as a composer.
brian_lettsin's Full Review: Handcream For a Generation by Cornershop
For their fourth and newest album to date, this short-lived but rarely dull London unit pulled out all the stops. Well... some of the stops. On their previous LP, 1997’s original and superb masterwork ‘When I Was Born On The 7th Time’ they established themselves as an exciting new force in modern music with enough racial, religious and political motivation to match their equally impressive range of influences. There were gorgeous examples of pop music and heavy trance, weaved around some mega-cool collages of hip-hop, early nineties rap and even psychedelic poetry, all tied in to the traditional sound of Indian music. Tjinder Singh, the brains of the unit, essentially continued where the Beatles left off as far as Indian music was concerned, and ended his album with an ironic take on ‘Norwegian Wood.’ Needless to say, the future looked rosy for this unit. Until they decided, at the height of their popularity and powers to take a break. Which, in retrospect, was perhaps not a wise move.
After his side project, Clinton, indulged his tastes and broadened his musical horizons, Cornershop returned with this sprawling and indulgent album which is, for the first half, remarkably enjoyable, before descending into indulgent nonsense in the second half. For the most part on this record, Singh seems to have eschewed all of the traditional conventions of Indian music upon which he drew for their previous albums, and this record instead focuses on demonstrating an ambitious catalogue of styles. The record leaps from psychedelic pop tunes to dance-floor rave-ups, through traditional stadium rock to improvised drum and bass workouts. Even if the band is successful at each genre it aims for, the overall album does not really represent the talent the band possess over an actual song. The end result is an over-indulgent album which fortunately does hit more than it misses. Examples of brilliance can be found on the lead disco-pop single ‘People Power’ or the loaded rocker ‘Lessons Learned From Rocky I to Rocky III’ which co-stars one fellow member of Oasis.
Part of the problem here may indeed be down to Oasis. Cornershop made the mistake of befriending the self-confessed greatest band in the world, and some of that misplaced self-belief seems to have rubbed off on them for this album. It seems to play at times like a flashy and self-congratulatory record in the style of any one of Oasis’ own pre-Morning Glory efforts, and suffers terribly because of this. Noel Gallagher himself makes an appearance on the overlong ‘Spectral Mornings’ which is the overlong centrepiece of the record. As tempting as it may be to blame Noel and company, the problem essentially lies in the lack of control Singh had over his burgeoning bag of influences. The group sounds as though it is on the verge of erupting if they don’t demonstrate every wonderful new grasp they have on each genre, and someone should have told them they needed perhaps to calm down. More pop gems are needed, really. Pieces such as ‘The London Radar’ and ‘Motion The 11’ are inoffensive enough, but fail really to excite, and the result is a choice album for those committed to the works of Singh beyond Cornershop only.
1. Heavy Soup (3:21)
The album is undeniably bouncy and upbeat from the get-go, and opens with this enjoyable intro piece which is a far cry from ‘Sleep On The Left Side’ but is a neat enough way to begin the very mellow proceedings. Over a groovy bass line and canny drum beat, several gorgeous trumpets play snippets of ebullient seventies melodies, tailor-made for a party scenario, while conscripted guest vocalist Otis Clay ad-libs at the microphone. It seems odd having someone freestyling on an actual record, but they let someone else do it again later on in the album. This tune is probably the most laid-back opener to an album ever recorded, and the trumpets at times come across like some mariachi band on acid over the plonks on the wonderfully old-fashioned organ. The orchestra from their previous record is back, and adds a touch of class to the proceedings while Clay mumbles incoherently and rattles off the contents of the album one-by-one. As an instrumental piece, it is quite a tantalising way to begin, and highlights aptly the frustrating dichotomy of the record, namely their grand ambitions for the record coupled with the real lack of inspiration. A fine start, which sounds much more at ease in a nightclub context.
2. Staging The Plaguing of the Raised Platform (4:35)
Although Singh may have dried up lyrically on the socio-political front, he still knows a thing or two about timeless, catchy pop tunes with stupendously upbeat choruses. This is almost as fabulous as ‘Brimful of Asha’ or the Norman Cook remix in its melody and execution. After some gorgeous tingles on the glockenspiel, the heavier guitars (more prominent on this album) riff and then squeak lightly in over Singh’s mumbled Indian intro. The bouncy melody enters and the band fire on all cylinders from the off, adding neat little lines of keyboard and sound effects to enhance the quality of the tune and create a denser collage of sound. Singh is very laid-back on vocals as always; his voice unexceptional but hip enough for this track to work. Here each line of his lyrics twists around the music with such care that at times he matches Beck with his ability for tongue-twisting psychedelic penmanship; albeit with a more British bias than the new-found Scientologist.
The orchestra, just crouched quietly in the background, provides some gorgeous backing and the use of a children’s choir for the chorus was just inspired. The whole thing makes for a superbly catchy tune indeed and the runaway highlight of the album. What the track is actually about… well, it seems kind of irrelevant, or impossible to figure out frankly, but when you have a pop hook as great as this then often words are not important, as we learned from the Beatles. There is a wonderful modulation worth mentioning and a trippy sixties synthesiser bridge before the oddest and catchiest moment on the album; the demented, mutated chant of: “Making the dope dope and the dope dope, Amanda/ Making the dope dope and the dope dope Amanda.” Whatever the point of this track, and whomever Amanda is, the band have lost none of the credulity and panache for the classic pop tune, and this one outstanding example of their talent in full bloom.
3. Music Plus I (4:42)
This an overt but enjoyable club jam, boiling down the band’s past successes at scratching and funky hip-hop pastiches into an aurally confusing wash of sound. The track drifts from the main dance beat into quieter parts which blend odd squelches on the keyboards and random warped statements from vocalist Doreen Edwards (who is squished into a baritone for the most part). The track rarely erupts into a fast and furious jam session in the style of Armand Van Halden or indeed Fatboy Slim, but instead has a looser feel, also incorporating some grand piano chords into the relentless throbbing beat and the headache-inducing swirl of the bass line. The main hook for the track is, um… hooky enough at least, even if the piece is once more only really enjoyable in one context and is something of a throwaway for the thoughtful listener. Also, there is no ‘Plus I’ on the track; this is just music and rather plain stuff at that.
4. Lessons Learned From Rocky I to Rocky III (4:23)
The first (and only) piece of genuine heavy rocking on the album, this opens with a growling guitar riff over the drums and then charges into an enjoyable piece of pop music, essentially, full of catchy but dangerously stylised vocals. Paul McGuigan from Oasis plays bass here, which doesn’t really enhance the quality of the track at all, but Singh is so assured at the microphone with his own nonsense words that the piece does not fail to bring a smile to the listener, especially at the chorus of: “The overgrown super sh*t.” Doreen Edwards adds her stylish soul vocals to the main verses which are pleasingly flashy, and the track thrives largely on the hard sound of its guitars which storm throughout the track and terrorise the sweet and slinky chord changes. Despite the overblown and bottomless feel, it is still one of the finest pieces on the album.
5. Wogs Will Walk (4:53)
A while back Cornershop released ‘Wogs’ as a single, and this would seem to be some sort of update, albeit in a far more thrilling and frivolous guise. My personal favourite piece on the album, this make use of a repeated organ riff which sounds stolen from Bob Dylan’s ‘Sitting On A Barbed Wire Fence’ but is in fact much funkier. A rocket-propelled, psychedelic collage of sixties rock with some modern beats and wicked scratching effects mixed in, this demonstrates the edgy experimentalism of the band which makes them so unique. It is also a vocal tour de force from Singh who rattles of a stream-of-consciousness series of lyrics centred around the bizarre chorus of: “Pass me the laser beam, and let me wipe the devilment clean.” The drums and organ make for a great bed, and the tune stops and starts with some neat little effects which range from bongo solos through to assorted digital nonsense. Although most of his lyrics are cryptic, he does seem to have more purpose here, despite repeating some previous words and tossing out such oddities as “I exchange pictures of Sam Fox” and “they ratchet my case open as if it was a Fanta can.” Still, for all its obscurity is an enjoyable and mesmerising piece of music and perhaps Singh’s best vocal turn on the album.
6. Motion The 11 (5:45)
One of the most shamefully indulgent pieces on the album, this track brings Singh’s interest in reggae music to fruition and is an entirely inappropriate full-on, floor-filling reggae workout. With the required dub bass line rising higher in the mix, the melody is squished between the tinny keyboard noises and the stop-start antics of guest MC Kojak from the Nazarities, who makes annoying babbling noises and references to “the Ras Tafari who dwells in Holy Mount Zion,” while Edwards sings “Motion the 11... gas mark 7” in the background. Oh, the shame! Some trumpets play over the proceedings which are utterly steeped in reggae throughout, and pretty much loop the first minute of music over again for just under six minutes. Not awful, but such eclecticism may test the patience of some listeners (and indeed this listener).
7. People Power (3:53)
A funkier piece, this was the moderately successful single in Britain from the album. Over some eighties digital blips, a jangling guitar line and some snaky disco bass part, this track reveals itself to be one genre-hopping slice of pop mastery which successfully juggles its multitudinous influences. Despite all of the dubbed crowd effects, the speaker-warping and the neat vinyl noises, it is the chorus here of “People power in the disco hour” that is the highlight. Once again, this perhaps demonstrates the hollowness of the record through and through, as it is just an aimless slice of mantra-pop, but is catchy enough, and they repeat it ad nauseam in the final minute, so at least they are exploiting their strengths if they have nothing to say. Not that memorable, really but one of the best tunes on the album all the same.
8. Sounds Super Recordings (1:30)
Similar to the filler on their last album, this track muffles some bongos into the left speaker while two members of the band make some announcements in Hindi over surreptitious tingles on the sitar. Whether not they are apologising for the mistakes they have made on the record or the shocking amount of filler still to come is unclear, but one suspects not. It is nice to hear these instruments at last, but unfortunately the band make them sound squished and awful here, and thus ruin the beauty of them on their own. A wasted opportunity, and a waste of disc space, frankly.
9. The London Radar (4:06)
An inoffensive but bland instrumental, this track returns to the club jams of the earlier work, but instead seems to direct it deliberately to the Ibiza crowd with its sound effects of planes taking off and airport announcements mixed into the slinky bass line and the intermittent flourishes of the jack-in-a-box orchestra. Of all the things to mix into a tune, airport noises seems a completely bizarre thing to do, and as exciting as they try to make the experience of flying this track ultimately finds itself delayed and well… unable to take off. These odd effects are more prominent than the instruments, in fact, which mainly comprise the bass, drums and some awkward scratching. It reminds me of the awful collages of adverts and music on cassettes I used to make as a child, and that is no good thing.
10. Spectral Mornings (14:23)
The closest piece on the album to the sound and vision of previous work, this combines the traditional flair of Indian music with the heavier rock sound they made use of for some of the record. For the first half, this is a rapid piece where Singh sounds like an entirely different and ultimately more exciting vocalist, and it is obvious he thrives singing in Hindi rather than English. The whole piece is in Hindi in fact, and is driven along by the sitars, the obstreperous guitar backing from Noel Gallagher and the bongos which rarely give the listener a moment to breathe. The first half is the highlight, as it mirrors some of the finest work on their previous album, but the second half finds itself mired down in rather half-baked, distant guitar noodling from Gallagher. A talented writer he may be, but as a guitarist he is not exactly renowned for his blistering solos and fret-busting action, and the sitar parts are actually more enjoyable on the whole. Together with the hot bongo action of Peter Bengry, they keep the whole tune romping along and firmly entrenched within the musical climate of 1997. It descends into something of a stoner’s wet dream in the final five minutes, fading out slowly and buzzing back in again randomly as it grounds itself in a mire of distant plucking and wishy-washy musicianship, evoking the insufferable indulgence of the Verve at their most self-indulgently psychedelic. If they had chopped seven minutes the whole thing, well… maybe it would have perfect. Then again, maybe not.
11. Slip The Drummer One (3:41)
Singh makes use of some Public Enemy overdubs, an incongruous robot vocalist and a rather disconcerting bass line for this nondescript and curious piece of album padding. Another cut and paste job, it incorporates myriad lyrical snippets over its mellow guitar line and its stoned bass part. Inoffensive enough (apart from one headache-inducing bridge) but ultimately of no consequence whatsoever, and not good enough for an album five years in the making.
12. Heavy Soup (Outro) (2:08)
My policy on including the same tune twice on records is usually very severe and straightforward. Under no circumstances whatsoever, should any artist, living or dead, cheat people from their dollars by fobbing their listeners off with the same music as used on previous tracks. It does not matter in what guise it takes, whether the artist was stricken by amnesia during the recording or if they simply felt they could improve upon it. It is unforgivable. Cornershop get in my bad books here by playing the music from the opener again, without the vocalist in the way, and round up (in the laziest way possible) an album which is obviously desperately searching for some stylistic unity, but misses it in abundance. By this point, it is too late. Pah...
13. Bonus Track (3:15)
For the British bonus track, Cornershop recorded some soul music off the radio in a busy French cafe. A generous gesture of them, perhaps, but the tune found itself stuck in a groove during the recording and their tape machine ran out of batteries later that night, so they were unable to record it again. They later passed it through some Lionel Richie records and tipped some random synthesiser noises over the whole thing and this is the end product. They may know how to make an entrance, but they sure can’t make an exit.
Cornershop: Handcream For A Generation (60:52)
Handcream is not the worst metaphor to deploy for this record, perhaps. It is momentarily soothing and pleasurable, but ultimately fades away and leaves a soft, smooth imprint but nothing lasting on your person. Although I don’t believe this to be true of the album, there are moments of sheer insignificance throughout which reinforce this notion. Tunes as glorious as ‘Staging The Plaguing...’ and ‘Wogs Will Walk’ shall remain choice highlights from this album and will crop up on many devices I may wish to program music into in the future. As an entire album, and the follow-up to their seminal work, however, it just disintegrates far too quickly into indulgence through a lack of stylistic unity and their inability to jeopardise further upon the sound of Indian music which made them so unique in the first place. Instead, they make themselves masters of reggae, dance jams and freeform psychedelic freak outs. This album is ebullient, joyous and gloriously upbeat, but really as hollow as a pumpkin and as memorable as a very short man on a very busy street. That is not very memorable, indeed. Still, if you are a devotee of Tjinder Singh specifically, and not just Cornershop, this makes much more sense, but fans of ‘When I Was Born...’ will likely just be alienated. Recommended, but this is really a choice album so proceed with caution (or a large wad of cash).
Recommended:
Yes
Great Music to Play While: Getting ready to go out
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