Acollective: "Onwards"

Something's happening on the Israeli music scene in recent years, with international language attempts by daring local artists gaining momentum, stronghold and legitimacy courtesy of Indie outlets, multi-niche venues and enthusiastic audience… on a scope that's wider than back in the days when major labels ruled the market.
Acollective is such a daring, multi-talent bunch.

Comprising of Idan Rabinovici, Roy Riek, Daniel Shoham, Joseph E-Shine, Roy Rabinovici, Emanuel Slonim and Nadav Luzia, Acollective has been blending various influences for some time now, under different schemes… and this album, which is their second, was created in London under British circumstances and recorded in Tel Aviv under specific maneuvers. Consequentially, all the above led to a specific achievement: even if there wasn't a sheer attempt to access all areas, our lads worked out a concoction that could almost pass as a rock opera, with quality that's quite rare on these shores:


There's something about the English language which enables most pop audience to enjoy songs without fully understanding the lyrics. It's a kind of appeal that other languages lack, and whilst the theme of Simon Says vaguely refers to the famous English nursery rhyme, this time no one is required to be silent or to place his palm on his nose… Oh no, this time we're dealing with immigration officers and their above-dictated regulations.
So… we either entered the country or we're required to leave… it might stand for both cases but no matter the state of limbo as presented in the text, it's the tight rhythm which dictates all of us to jump and dance… as long as we didn't cross the line.

The half-ferocious guitar riffs on A Better Man indicate a new state of mind, following a flight to the UK which normally lasts five hours and doesn't result in a jet-lag. Nevertheless, our heroes hope to prevent or at least disregard pain on their feet… though they needn't worry about weight loss, for this is not a space mission.
One's teeth are unlikely to crack as a result of ice chewing. On the other hand, initial attempts to emulate the plethora of dialects and accents within the British Isles can certainly lead to jawbreaking… and the semi-silent section may imply a dreamful sleep as the audience dance.
Did I hear a marching order? Oh please… that's British manners for you. Once you're a better man, the jaws won't hurt anymore.

Stolen Goods begins with a slight Peter Murphy-ish attitude, though it wouldn't sit comfortably on any Bauhaus album. "I can't stand your taste in my mouth", he says. "Get out", he moans, and after spitting it out, the "Murphism" dissolves. Conceptually speaking, you're not there yet. It takes time to become full-time British, and the mouth-harp cries. Notwithstanding, it leaves a good taste in one's mouth.

A UK work visa is hardly obtainable these days if you don't have an EU passport. Does tension always boost one's appetite on Home Office? Most Brits eat their meals slowly… a matter of education rather than freewill. Would one's entry be denied? It's time to have your thoughts set… what a difficult process to go through under assumed pressure during the wait for clearance. Things look different when one's mind is troubled… and the fingers pinch the strings. Does one's heart get pinched?

Whisky Eyes draws from Honky-Tonk styled piano and horns section, and suddenly it sounds "as if" the vocals come through an old radio unit. Does that combination help avoiding clichés on both fields? Sure, and then again, the cliché comes from a different angle, with the rhymes adhering to Yes' Jon Anderson's formula: they look good on paper but don't always mean much. Was that a sheer result of Whisky consumption? Nevermind… we all jump 'n' dance, 'cos it's groovy.

From the drunken happiness on whisky eyes, we get to crystal eyes on Turn to Cry, a decidedly moving, yet contemplative number. Should these emotions be the result of over-partying? Unsurprisingly, the angry guitar at 2:51 sprays the area with awareness… are these notes, bullets or tears? The rhythm section, on the other hand, displays mild cheerfulness.

On Running Away, there's a slow-paced running… away, with sweet melancholia a-la Portishead / Low. There's nowhere to run if you live in a box… and the British rain takes the Israeli rain by the mile.
Did you ever consider the number of pop and rock classics written under these circumstances? Did you know how many Brits tend to dislike the idea of changes? May the passage between 2:51 and 3:27 symbolize the repetitive rain?
No… don't run away with the answers. You may sit and compose a song instead, as everything blends together in a cold-proof room.

Then we get Working Title. Frankly, no special talent is required when one experiments with writing an incomplete song... even though, in a paraller universe, Schubert's "Unfinished Symphony" could have probably benefit, or at least granted a fresh start had it been composed today. However, the effort of taking incomplete text and match it with a specific tune, all in the name of creation, guarantees a great listening and a great track for late-night radio programming.

Bang! Bang! Lewknor Arch ranges from melancholia to sobriety as the atmosphere in London is heavy on souvenirs… including the aura inherited into the mix. Those with money to spend may not reach satiation point too soon but there must be a certain percentage of information and sights one can absorb in one day \ one week \ one month… hence the need to be left alone, which is apparent, regardless of the guys' relative loneliness in the giant metropolitan.
The song may have reached one's satiation point… and then all thoughts in one's head get mixed up… partygoers are unlikely to sober up too soon… and another leaf is falling.

A fall-infested sensation is inflicted with Idiom Autumn on those who believe in music. The autumn is present in the room and the fuzz guitar is yelling. "Summer days are through" and one is searching for the sun. Creativity gets a shot in the arm. An English season at its best is cemented in grey and green.
You may spend the whole day walking in the park, absorbing an educative experience… and another leaf falls on your head.

An ever persuasive mixture of rhythm, piano, saxophone and phrasing on Girls penetrates our consciousness with great aplomb. What's on the menu tonight? Thoughts of girls as "can't do with them, can't do without them" are ever present. Do women think same about men? It's very likely, whilst the dance steps are highly unlikely to ease things… let's make it a musical, then, serve hot under the collar, and leave to chill.

A title such as Seven Year Stitch must be a paraphrase on "seven year itch"… but a stitch hurts even more. May one tell how it started, and what for?
The mouth-harp screeches, almost as mentioned in line No.7 here. So, how come nobody bought the idea? The rhythm section begins to sound like a sewing machine. It hammers all over the place. People still ignore it, and that's sad.
 A placid mood goes stormy, just like the weather… and the stitch is linked to Goodbye Bad Days. Is that a procession I hear? A farewell parade, perhaps? Are we marching in or out? Does that mean "out of the country"? Is that riddance or a finale? The sound of ticking clock (could that be the Big Ben?) is fading, and so does the Hammond's.
Welcome back to the mood and confusion. Will the gate remain closed? Not necessarily.
…and while on the subject, I assume that the band members weren't under pressure, yet the tendency was to behave "as if". Lyrically, the outcome is meditative. Musically, it's a multi-ingredient pottage. Such combination, under the right terms, tends to work out affirmatively, as you'll probably notice.

Spot-on: despite the British experience, the lyric sheet adheres to the US grammar.

Simon says: play it again. Fascination is guaranteed!

To listen to the album online: click here!



Photograph by Noa Magger

Acollective: "Onwards"; Monocrave / High-Fidelity Music, 2011