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Eggs CD

5.0 out of 5 stars 1 customer review

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Audio CD, CD, 8 Feb 2010
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Amazon's Oh No Ono Store



Product details

  • Audio CD (8 Feb. 2010)
  • Number of Discs: 1
  • Format: CD
  • Label: The Leaf Label
  • ASIN: B002YP4FHI
  • Other Editions: Audio CD |  Vinyl
  • Average Customer Review: 5.0 out of 5 stars 1 customer review
  • Amazon Bestsellers Rank: 344,995 in CDs & Vinyl (See Top 100 in CDs & Vinyl)
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Track Listings

Disc: 1

  1. Eleanor Speaks
  2. Swim
  3. Internet Warrior
  4. Icicles
  5. Helplessly Young
  6. The Wave Ballet
  7. The Tea Party
  8. Miss Miss Moss
  9. Eve
  10. Beelitz

Product description

Review

ALBUM OF THE MONTH
A lot of people have been flapping their arms about the arrival of 3DTV recently, as if the event of the decade will be watching Huw Edwards trying to read the news with a straight face while his eyebrows do a multi-dimensional jig.

Personally I'm holding out for the arrival of the 3D album, and nurse! I think we may have just found the right record to test this technology on. 'Eggs' is so full of mental fantasy sequences that a 3D version of it would surely feature luminous jellyfish performing an erotic striptease, while a mysterious girl massages your feet and God himself manicures your hands.

In other words, it's damn weird - and the fact that it was recorded over nine months in a place called the Isle of Mon makes it even weirder. I mean, who's even heard of the Isle of Mon?! (It's in Denmark - Geography Ed)

Opener 'Eleanor Speaks' kicks things off an Egyptian belly dance vibe, before 'Internet Warrior' goes all Tomb Raider on our asses, throwing thoughts of heroes, heroines, bat-infested caves and digital snogging to mind. Single 'Helplessly Young' spits out digital beats and a catchy wild west riff, while 'Eve' sounds like the finale to Les Miserables as interpreted by a hoard of ancient vampires.

If all this sounds a bit much, rest assured the songs are coated in a layer of MGMT-style sexual sweatiness, and that the band have pulled off their cinematic vision without sound like pompous twats. What's more, I'm reliably informed there are some subliminial images of a sexual nature in the artworkm which is always a thrill for bored and pathetic men such as... well, myself. (I haven't found them yet. Two hours. Two hours and still no success.) -- Artrocker, March 2010

Records that really matter, that stand the test of time, create their own world. They don't bow to genres: they define them. Records that merely reflect what's going on as they're being made might capture a zeitgeist, and albums may catch a wave of hype that makes them globally successful, but to set themselves apart they need to be able to speak to us whenever we hear them. What percentage of records that you've championed still gets regular plays? The answer: far less than you'd probably admit. But some survive. You know a great record when you can play it years later to someone who's never heard it and not feel even the slightest bit embarrassed at your infatuation. Such a record has endured. It is its own entity.

What's this got to do with Danish five piece Oh No Ono? Eggs is not, for instance, Pet Sounds, Spirit Of Eden, or For Emma, Forever Ago. But, like all three, it is a record obsessed with assembling its own world, in this case kaleidoscopic, chaotic yet welcoming. It's made by a band whose drive is such that, as documented elsewhere, they broke into an abandoned military hospital outside Berlin to record, and at times worked in shifts around the clock for weeks. For 'Swim', amusingly, they even claim to have gone "so far as to reenact the cloth washing rituals of the West African Baka pygmies, recording ourselves trying to get a good groove out of splashing in the water on the beach". And, in order to ensure that they are equally challenging lyrically, they adopted automatic writing techniques, sometimes writing stream-of-consciousness lyrics by committee, at other times randomly plucking lines from spam email. Oh No Ono are nothing if not foolishly ambitious.

The end result is dizzying, divisive and exhausting. It's also highly addictive. It works both as a product of contemporary low attention spans and as their panacea: in throwing new ideas into each song at roughly the pace at which Deadwood's Al Swearengen curses they not only pander to those easily bored but render others speechless at their academic ingenuity. Consequently they sound like a million different acts, often at the same time. For the older reader, George Harrison gets a nod on 'Eleanor Speaks' and it's hard not to hear ELO in 'The Wave Ballet' despite its spiritual, choral introduction and a later swerve towards Queen's 'Flash Gordon'. It's harder still to miss Supertramp and Harry Nilsson during 'Icicles', while Phil Spector is indelibly stamped on 'Swim'. Many 80s bands would have killed for the keyboard lick that decorates 'Internet Warrior' even as it swings into shoegaze territory, yet 'Eve' is quite simply a loving Scott Walker pastiche. But this isn't just a Mojo-friendly séance: the band credit Black Dice with influencing 'Beelitz', and MGMT and Caribou are useful reference points too (though frankly 'Helplessly Young' sounds like no one so much as Loney Dear).

Eggs is very much of its time, in other words, at the mercy of the overwhelming variety available these days. It's a record that has gorged on the then-and-there as much as the here-and-now. But it constantly surprises, carefully constructing a universe in which such diverse sounds can coexist. Furthermore, in Malthe Fischer they have a vocalist of unique character, his wailing falsetto cresting the waves that form throughout Eggs. Words are sometimes strangled, at other times flow like honey off a knife. Love it or hate it - and rest assured you'll do one or the other, sometimes both - his voice is very much its own master, squealing at the top of its range like a deranged chipmunk and yet leaving an honest trail of both confidence and vulnerability in its wake. Even when vocal duties are handed over to Aske Zidore, whose plummy tenor graces 'Eve' - the story of a loveless relationship in which "the bells rang out for the couple who still had no troubles to forget" - they still confound expectations, Zidore reaching its brutal, chilling dénouement with a doomy intonation that would have made Vincent Price proud: "Go love go / Don't come back again / I'm not your friend / Bye love bye / I just can't pretend to be your friend".
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It's lyrics like these - baffling and astounding in equal measure - which are the album's final treasure, most probably sidelined until you think you've at last got its measure. Picking them apart is an endless delight, the unravelling of a braid of enigmatic phrases and graphic images: "icicles swing like crystal bells", "the dream readers are sleepy", and marriages are planned "above a plain of knives". 'The Tea Party', meanwhile, offers such incisive similes as "tense like champagne trapped in the veins", though even that is eclipsed when Zidore sings of how "I have seen the queen and danced with her puppy / She's already done a movie about me".

It's that final image that captures the spirit of Oh No Ono best: playfully provocative, absurdly entertaining. Eggs is contrived, if contrived means crafted. It's also pretentious, if pretentious means elaborate. But, like its artwork, Eggs is ornate, psychedelic, nostalgic and visionary. Most important of all, it's an entrance into a world that is hard to forget. -- The Quietus, February 5, 2010

THEY ARE as mad as a box of frogs, but in an entirely
good way. This Danish quintet present a lush, orchestrated carnival of sound quite unlike anything else out there.
Their songs are quirky,inventive, unpredictable and,
sometimes, just plain weird. Synths and samples mingle
with strange falsetto vocals and conventional rock instruments.
It all leads to a fairground ride of a second album
building to an epic ten-minute finale Beelitz that will appeal to fans of their fellow sonic pioneers Flaming
Lips.
The boys Dane good. -- The Sun, February 12, 2010

Terrific tripped-out pop from Denmark. If Animal Collective can be credited with updating the Mercury Rev/Flaming Lips cosmic-pop template, then Oh No Ono blast it into the stratosphere on a rocket of precocious talent. Such is the mind-warping nature of the Danish quintet's psychotropic vision that they make Jonathan Donahue and co sound like timorous minimalists. Here are miasmic, dizzyingly gorgeous songs built on the grandest and most romantic of scales (opener 'Eleanor Speaks' sources Pet Shop Boys, The Beatles, David Axelrod and The Ronettes; 'Icicles' weds Arthur Russell to Sparks), but steadied by the hand of hook-loving classicists. Bravo! -- Uncut, March 2010

Tethering Animal Collective's soaring psych trails to classicist pop, this Danish outfit major in melody and
symphonic scope alike. The choir and moon-eyed falsetto of "The Wave Ballet" recall Mercury Rev, "Icicles" takes off
somewhere between ELO, Broadway and outer space, and Tim
Burton missed a trick by not pinching "The Tea Party" for Alice in Wonderland's psychedelic freak-show. Groovy. -- The Independent, February 27, 2010


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