Chimpomatic

Bright Eyes

Cassadaga

Universal

The 7th installment by Conor Oberst's Bright Eyes sees them open everything up with a more expansive and altogether grander outlook taking precedence. Named after a Florida town visited by Oberst to consult spiritual mediums, Cassadaga aims at the grandeur of a modern American classic. Unlike the work of many 27 year-olds it's possible to plot an artistic progression through the work of this man and see that this album is the coming together of many facets of his life. Early albums like the fantastic Fevers & Mirrors ride on a tense balance of frail whispered devotions of love to impassioned shrieks of hatred while 2005's Digital Ash In A Digital Urn embraced a more electronic sound in its production. Cassadaga acts as the melting pot for all this history including Oberst's recent opposition to anything Bush. The result is a well rounded if not slightly diluted depiction of the present day Oberst and his country.

The success of the Bright Eyes sound is down to simple song writing. Oberst is undoubtedly a complex character but this rarely complicates the songs. If The Brakeman Turns My Way and Middleman are what this band is built on. As usual, Oberst's lyrics are dark and brooding but there is a hope in these songs that coupled with the steady, soaring melody make something swell in your heart. He injects an ambiguity into his poetry mixing gritty realism with hopelessly romantic imagery. His music references time-honored song writing traditions but at the same time is fiercely contemporary. Having said that, the low point of the album comes in the form of the Soul Singer In A Session Band and its a rare moment where we see obvious song writing and dull lyrics.

The band has grown considerably since 2005's double bill release and the string section and soaring backing vocals on many tracks are what really separates this from previous works. Nowhere is this seen more powerfully than on the album highlight No One Would Riot For Less. Oberst's quivering voice mirrors the delicate guitar picking that accompanies it. His protagonists, playing out tales of inevitable death, are comforted by the line "Love me now, help is coming," and from the distance an angelic, female voice can be heard. The strings gently pick things up and carry them away to heights rarely seen by this band.

Most bands reach a point where the far ends of their creative leanings converge together and when this happens the result is often a more well rounded, comprehensive whole but also a leveling out that can round off edges and dilute extremes. At times Cassadaga sounds like Bright Eyes have reached this point. The bitter edge to the Oberst tongue seen on Fevers & Mirrors has been on the way out since 2005's I'm Wide, Awake It's Morning and is obviously being vented in his Desparecidos punk-rock side project. Since his scathing attack on the Bush administration in the song When The President Talks To God, Oberst has become a figurehead for the protest song and though I didn't want this album to be plagued with anti-war imagery the moments where this is addressed are quite feeble compared to the venom of his previous song. Claims that the country is being run by a madman and comparisons to soldiers and insects are nothing we don't already know and not what we have come to expect from this lyricist. To criticize an album for not enough political opinion seems ludicrous but in an age where every cretin is shouting empty, anti establishment noise we need artists like Oberst who don't speak like they have a media reputation to protect and who above all have the ability to express an honest and important opinion.

But in his defense, as you pull back from this album you see that as a whole Cassadaga manages to paint a very real and intelligent picture of America today with all its hopes and fears. In the sweeping orchestral grandeur we see the vast open planes of the American landscape and crouching somewhere within the frail voice of Oberst himself we see the fragility of his country and the uncertainty of its future. 2005's double release was a special moment for this band and though Cassadaga doesn't live up to either of those albums it is still a worthy follow up.

#Music
#BC

16th Apr 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Andrew Bird

Armchair Apocrypha

Fargo

This latest album from Chicago singer-songwriter and violinist sees the guitar take more of a center position than previous works and the result is a multi-layered piece of dazzlingly original music that is a delight to listen to from start to finish. I must take this moment to warn any readers who are sensitive to over-praise but I will be saying nothing negative about this record in this review as there is nothing negative to say.

Whether he is accompanied by former band Bowl Of Fire or trading under his own name, Andrew Bird has consistently delivered music of effortless grace and though Armchair Apocrypha sees an evolution or resolution of sounds discovered in previous albums Weather Systems and 2005's enchanting The Mysterious Production Of Eggs the core beauty to this mans music remains the same.

The source of this beauty is not too easy to pin down. Musically, Bird weaves a very rich tapestry indeed. Swathes of layered and looped violin usher in jangling guitars, glockenspiel and delicate brushed drums. Thematically it's a similar story with everything from spirituality (Darkmatter) to mortality to the current political climate (Scythian Empires) being addressed but it's all cleverly disguised in a unique poetic ambiguity. But all this wouldn't be half as beguiling if it weren't for Birds voice. This is the key to this and every album previous. Bird has much to say but he's in no hurry to say it. His effortless style can shuffle along in almost spoken word (Cataracts) then can lift to soaring falsetto like a leaf in the summer breeze (Armchairs). Pretty soon you start trusting this voice and give yourself up to its warmth and when you do your heart delights in the knowledge that it could be taken anywhere at a moments notice.

One of the most beautiful songs comes in the form of a 58 second interlude called The Supine. It's deep classical symphonies with dancing finger picking delicacies are simply divine and echo the closing track Yawny At The Apocalypse, who's purely instrumental cello and violin washes ease you out of this sublime dream world. This is truly heartfelt music from an artist devoted to his art and his world and will leave you in quiet awe of just how many strings there are to this man's bow.

#Music
#BC

16th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Patti Smith

Twelve

Columbia

2005's Meltdown: Songs of Experience should have provided a few clues, but Patti Smith's highly rated Horses show at the same festival suggested she still had game.

The New York avant-garde punker returns here with a 12 track covers album, inventively called "Twelve", showing both the roots and modern tastes of the musical legend. Sadly, it's a depressingly familiar affair, with un-inventive renditions of predictable tunes such as White Rabbit, Are You Experienced?, Gimme Shelter or Soul Kitchen.

Helpless is the closest thing to vaguely interesting, mainly because it's such a simple song it seems hard for a good voice like Patti's to drop the ball. Dylan's Changing Of The Guards is passable, mainly as I'm not so familiar with that song. Smells Like Teen Spirit is totally out of touch, while Gangsta's Paradise is just embarrassing.

Unless you like listening to passable karaoke stay well clear.

#Music
#CSF

16th Apr 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Wilco

Sky Blue Sky

Nonesuch

As I have previous professed, for me Wilco are one of the best bands operating at the moment. Since I first got hold of their Mermaid Avenue collaboration with Billy Bragg, I tracked back and forth through their output, sucking it all up until I had it all. As a relatively late adopter, I had less of the undying love for the "alt.country" end of things, and for me A Ghost Of Born was the ultimate conclusion of where a band like this was going, leaving me to wonder where they would be heading next.

While Kidsmoke, Hell Is Chrome and the other big show-off tracks on A Ghost Of Born steal the show, they also tend to over-shadow some superb numbers that pop up later in the album, such as Theologians, Late Greats or Company In My Back. With sixth studio album Sky Blue Sky things are on a much more even keel, making for a more subtle record that is beautifully crafted and full of hidden treasure.

Forget the Fleetwood Mac comparisons you might have heard, The Band are your homework reference for this album, with superb musicianship pulling from all sides to make an apparently simple track like You Are My Face into a musical masterpiece -  winding up from ballad to multi-part guitar duel, or to transform the opener Either Way from a sunny-weather ditty to an all-out majestic finale, complete with a string section. Great talent brings great responsibility however, and unfortunately the album suffers from some of the same pitfalls as The Band's work from Stage Fright onwards - with the undoubtedly excellent musicianship sometimes falling short of the emotion needed for it to engage the listener as A Ghost Is Born did - which I suspect may be down to a Iack of trouble in Wilcoworld at the moment. If only Tweedy could get back on the painkillers.

But fear not, Wilco are still a long way from a Steely Dan's sometimes unapproachable studio tan style. The glib opening line of Impossible Germany ("...unlikely Japan") is quickly forgiven as it morphs off into a six minute guitar monster. And if you do find yourself waiting for that trademark emotional crack in Tweedy's vocals,  don't worry - that comes soon enough on title track Sky Blue Sky: "It's good enough for now..."

Man of the match definitely goes to new signing Nels Cllne, who takes the guitar standards of Wilco's previous records to epic new heights. As a former free-wheeling jazz guitarist he has added guitar to projects by Mike Watt, Stephen Perkins' Banyan, Thurston Moore and others - as well as releasing some notable, if meandering solo work (I've seen him live, and had the sore improv jazz buttocks to prove it). Kept on a tight leash by Tweedy's songwriting, which often reins him in, Nels Cline excels - adding a multitude of guitar highlights, from the crisp Stevie Ray Vaughn-esqe solo that rounds off opener Either Way, to the pyrotechnics that take Side With The Seeds from it's deceptively soulful opening to it's barnstorming finale.

Sure, there are a couple of more forgettable tracks, but the power hidden behind the laid back effortlessness of this album will be fully revealed live and I have no doubt that it is only going to get better and better. I'd even go so far as to wager that after seeing this record played live, the track about Jeff cleaning the house (Hate It Here) may be a late favourite. We'll see.

The bottom line is that this is a top-flight band working at the top of their game. On the surface it may seem to have the stumbling style of fan favourite Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but when listened to next that album it is a far more complex affair. While it might not have the more overt scene-stealing sonic theatrics of the Jim O'Rourke influenced A Ghost Is Born, beneath the surface there are more than a few nods in that direction - notably on the fantastic closing track On And On And On, where the guitar is pipped to the post at the final hurdle by Mikael Jorgensen's keyboards. His Garth Hudson-style Hammond organ adds a steady stream of quality input throughout the album, but on On And On And On it is thrust into the limelight and carries the album home, bringing it back from a minor lull to finish magnificently.

This is a superbly rich record, taking the huge range of previous Wilco output and creaming off the best of all their albums and shaping it into a rich and polished career overview. There is a fluidity, solidity and cohesiveness here that make it an accomplished delight.

#Music
#CSF

16th Apr 2007 - 4 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Arctic Monkeys

Astoria, London

Does it actually matter what I report here? Every self respecting music buff already has a stance on the Arctic Monkeys and I'd bet my mortgage on the fact that whatever you read about them your opinion is already set. Word on the street was that touts were flogging tickets for a mere couple of hundred quid for tonight's performance at the Astoria. Temptation was to sell up my Chimpomatic soul, take the cash and run. Either I could have insisted that the lucky recipient write a review for me or I could just make it up .........after all, don't we already know all about the Monkeys from Sheffield?

I'm reminded of my teaching days when a fight in the corridor, snow in the playground or the last day of term ensured that whatever I said was destined to go in one ear and out of the other. For such moments we were advised to leave the kids with 'a golden nugget,' even if everything else was a meaningless drone they should at least remember one key point. But more of that later.  No doubt you could join the dots in the Arctic Monkey's story between the following key phrases; 'myspace', 'best selling début', 'Gordon Brown', and 'Brit Awards'. And no doubt you've made your mind up which camp you belong to. Either your one of the tribe who shrug that they're a band with 'a few good tunes but not worthy of the praise, a band for skinny jeaned kids who missed out on Nirvana, the Stone Roses or even The Strokes for that matter' or they are 'saviours of rock n roll purveying witty vignettes on 21st century Britain'. Prior to tonight my mind was made up, I was firmly in the former camp.

So now for the part where I stand in front of the class who prefer to gaze out of the window or write notes or carve messages into the table taking no notice of what I say. On the basis of tonight's performance I am a convert, I get it and I now understand the hype. Whatever it is (its surely time to reclaim the phrase 'X factor' from ITV tea time telly) these boys have definitely got it. It is something that in all my years of gig watching I've only witnessed in a very select few. There's nothing ground breaking - its a set of basic lighting, no pyrotechnics, not much banter, and few histrionics. There seems no need for razz-mattaz when music can speak for itself. With the audience in the palm of their hand the enthusiasm is sucked up and thrown right back. Assured, controlled and confident their sound is full of an energy that makes one feel they've been struck by lightning. Tonight's real revelation is the rhythm section that recalls Reni and Mani in full flow, all tight, funky, rumbling, rockin....... I could go on but I expect you won't believe me.....

These boys are unfazed by the expectations, they know they've got it and it's apparent that they are absolutely buzzing. Not yet have they become wearily complacent or developed a cock-sure swagger to alienate all but their hard core fans. On the contrary, they're eager to please, they're the kids at school who really do want to throw the best party possible. 'Come on Alex' shouted one skinny jeaned fan and the Monkey's leader visibly grew in stature 'thanks very much, encouragement is always welcome'. Crucially they never surrender control. The exuberant crowd chanted for Mardy Bum so the band cheekily struck up the opening riff before launching instead into I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor; the fans were ecstatic and the Monkeys confirmed that they still call the tune.

So can they keep it going? Can they resist the mass sing-alongs, or translate some of this magic to record in order to convince the doubters? I don't know. A number of new songs from their soon to be released album 'Favourite Worst Nightmare' were showcased tonight suggesting a more muscular, bluesy sound which dares to seek out a different tempo. The crowd lapped it all up even if their toes didn't tap as furiously and the choruses were as yet too unfamiliar to chant along.  Contrary to the advice espoused in Fake Tales of San Francisco I'm jumping on the bandwagon.
The bell is ringing and its time to run out of the classroom to resume the fight, play in the snow or head home for the holidays. So what is the golden nugget that Mr Muxloe wants you to take with you? It is this - forget your preconceptions and go check these boys out. Preferably you should do it while they still have a wide eyed wonder at the beauty of simple rock n roll, before they get lazy on the decadence of success and before they starting writing bloated songs about 'woe is me, no-one understands me now my days consist of drugs and super-models'. I'm not telling you what to think just saying 'please think again'.

#Music
#Gig
#Muxloe

14th Apr 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Cinematic Orchestra

Ma Fleur

Ninja Tune

It's been nearly 5 years since the release of Every Day, The Cinematic Orchestra's finest moment, and anyone who was as totally captivated and seduced by that record as I was would have been eagerly awaiting Jason Swinscoe's next move. The difference between Every Day and Ma Fleur is not too dissimilar a progression from that of debut Motion and Every Day. 1999's Motion seemed to appear out of nowhere and totally went against the run of fashion for contemporary music. Its hypnotic jazz constructions and smoldering film-noir ambiance soon made The Cinematic Orchestra the jewell in the Ninja crown. The follow up took all of the mood from Motion but showed an amazing maturity in progression. It was single minded in its approach and totally dedicated in its focus. It was a truly timeless record and one that would be very hard to follow.

Ma Fleur shows the same degree of progression. Swinscoe has spent years learning from his last record and this is the sound an artist getting closer to his goal. It's a concept album of sorts and is adventurous to say the least. It's the soundtrack to an imaginary film and was constructed during an elaborate back and forth process between Swinscoe and a script writer. The instrumentals were created first then a series of short story scripts were written for these with each track representing a scene. Swinscoe then reworked the music in light of the script and the process continued. The album is supposed to map the journey we all go through from birth to death and the emotions that underpin the three main stages in life. It features three vocalists who represent these stages, starting with Patrick Watson then Mercury nominated Lou Rhodes and finishing with the legendary Fontella Bass who's deep, soulful vocals provided the majority of Every Day with such grandeur and here express perfectly the feelings of loss and regret of the elderly protagonist.

The scale of ambition of this project is awesome and it's what makes it so special, but also what lets it down in places. As always the quality of Swinscoe's production and collaborators is impeccable. Patrick Watson's opener To Build A Home is achingly beautiful and his crescendo vocal range matched with the soaring orchestration makes this song and much of Watson's input a clear highlight. The Cinematic Orchestra has always been synonymous with jazz but Ma Fleur relies less on these techniques. The mood of this grand concept is what is important here and that has dictated the form of the music, resulting in a much more orchestrated structure. It's this structure that really separates this from the other 2 albums. The clear cinematic feel to it makes it flow perfectly as a record and as a film score. The songs are hard to separate and it has obviously been constructed as a whole piece. There is a lot more space between the notes here and when the long delicate periods of orchestration are punctuated with the signature jazz sound it's quite powerful. It's far more contemplative and the definite narrative that runs through it makes it far less immediate than previous records.

This is an overwhelmingly melancholic record and its strict narrative results at times in an album that takes itself way too seriously. The initial beauty wears thin towards the middle and you just want everyone to cheer up. Thankfully the final track Time And Space finishes this journey off superbly. Lou Rhodes has such a delicate and tender approach that gives this song a real feeling of hope. It's a perfect finale and has the quality of a soundtrack to the closing scenes of an epic movie. In these final scenes everything is explained, the pain and sorrow are given a reason and amidst this explanation we are comforted and gently assured that the characters we have been following will be alright. This is a beautifully tender album and though it may not be as immediately satisfying as Every Day it is a worthy successor and continues Swinscoe's reputation as the visionary captain behind this ever pioneering vessel.

#Music
#BC

11th Apr 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Timbaland

Timbaland Presents Shock Value

Unfortunately this latest offering from the apparent genius producer Timbaland proves that no album is the sum of its parts alone. It's another dream-team album featuring the same old names, Timbalake, Furtado, Missy Elliot, Dr Dre, 50 Cent and some new ones that really have no business here, like The Hives and Fall Out Boy. Put alongside the work this guy has done on other peoples records, Shock Value suggests that Timbaland can dish out advice but just can't take it.

It all starts off so well with Oh Timbaland making great use of a Nina Simone Sinnerman sample and the catchy Give It To Me with Nelly Furtado, but then Timbalake's effort Release signals a steady decline into monotonous, forgettable tripe - out of which the album struggles to pull itself. Not surprisingly the absolute ground zero of all this crap comes with the Fall Out Boy collaboration One & Only, but actually having said that, if we're judging between levels of shitness it's hard to separate any of the final 3 tracks. Timbaland has worked with many of these artists before and this album sounds like a sweep up from their cutting room floor. The one star rating here is earned in the first track alone along with Timbalake's gaul to ask us in the closing track, "Don't it sound good to ya, don't you agree."

#Music
#HHG

10th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Desert Hearts

Proud Galleries, Camden, London

The tradition of live music in art spaces is a cool one that dates back to the Exploding Plastic Inevitable when the Velvet Underground showcased new tunes to the freaks and beautiful people of Warhol's Factory crowd. The Proud Gallery in Camden with its tardis-esque roof space is certainly a cool venue and perfect for such a balmy evening. But don't the patrons just know it. Cool enough to attract the beautiful people that's for sure but the only freaky thing about them was their preference for supping overpriced bottled beer rather than enjoying the bands on offer. A fear that this may be a night of style over substance was fuelled by the furniture on terrace. The canvas deck chairs displayed pictures of such icons as Marc Bolan, Jim Morrison, Gene Simmons and Pete Doherty – the impression was that the likes of Pete Townsend, Angus Scott or John Cale would not have been fashionably stylish enough for parking the posteriors of this crowd.

Such suspicions threatened to be confirmed by night's first act - Tiny Masters of Today. The guitarist wore a t-shirt emblazoned with a large number '12' which neatly worked out to be the average age of the bands stars, 11 year old Ada and her brother 13 year old Ivan, endorsed by such luminaries as Bowie and Karen O. (The trio was completed by Russell Simins, drummer from the John Spencer Blues Explosion.) Initially it was hard to decide if this was a grotesque gimmick or an inspired vision of the future. Considering that they hail from Brooklyn and were playing to a room full of Camden Trendys at least twice their age, the assertion of one chorus that 'all my friends are here with me' seemed a little bit weird and sad. But fair play to Tiny Masters of Today they proved themselves to be more than just a novelty with a tight live act and a couple of joyously rockin' tunes. Their finale of a cover of House of Pain's Jump was anything but grotesque and did indeed border on inspired. Ada even told us that 'this is a real song' as if the Camden crowd didn't know it.

Next act The Invention, fronted by a singer my companion described as like Eddie Vedder on speed, gave their all for a dedicated following. Most couldn't be drawn away from their lime topped beers but the committed fans didn't care singing along to all the songs and while not exactly liking to shoot guns nevertheless showing themselves to be pretty dangerous with flailing elbows.

And then there were the Desert Hearts. The faces of Ada and Ivan might one day feature on art gallery deck chairs after pricking the top 40 a couple of times, but one imagines that even with sales outstripping Elvis the Desert Hearts with beards and grungy cardigans will never be icons to the beautiful people. In any case they'd be wasted on this bunch. After a frantic opening they asked of the smattering of people bothered to take an interest in them 'so is this how it is in London?' - the answer was muted silence but should have been a reassuring 'no this is how it is in an art gallery in Camden'.

Sharing a producer on their most recent album Hotsy Totsy Nagasaki with Mogwai and Arab Strap, the Desert Hearts can be seen as part of this Celtic lineage. Where Arab Strap might be a contemplative sulk and Mogwai the pre-row brood on tonight's performance Desert Hearts are the tantrum and argument itself. They wanted to play a laid back set, explaining this was because 'we're fucked' but instead delivered a 'rifftastic' set of urgent guitars and driving drums which shook the stage if not the whole venue. By the end of their set the crowd had swollen by the passionate sound of the Desert Hearts but still many of the beautiful people drank their cocktails on those deckchairs. For those freaky enough to enquire what was going down on stage it was a triumph for substance over style.

#Music
#Gig
#Muxloe

10th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Fucking Champs

VI

Drag City

Believe it or not, there are downsides to being a Chimpomatic reviewer. The parties, premieres and indecent proposals all pale into significance when deadline day looms and the Alpha Males at Chimp HQ start bearing teeth. To stay in favour, it is necessary to listen to albums at inappropriate times and locations. For example; The Fucking Champs. As you may have guessed, they don’t do subtle. They don’t do singers either.  I guess they believe that singers are for pussies and most definitely not for Fucking Champs.  Besides, who needs words when you have a couple of Jock electric guitars beating the shit out of all-comers like a Double Dragon Tag-team (ably assisted by their sidekick Powerdrummerdude).

Yes, there is a time and a place for the Champs and it’s not on a crowded commuter train at 8.30 in the morning (professional courtesy prevents me from playing anything under maximum volume) or at 11.30am whilst trying to see off a particular enthusiastic hangover. No. The Fucking Champs are most definitely a band for the night before - this is music for movie double acts: Bill and Ted. Wayne and Garth. For all the dudes that like to R.O.F’ing.K!

I feel bad about rating this; like the old codger telling those darned kids to turn the party down AGAIN. But those leading chimps are showing signs of chest-beating with all these recent stars flying round and it is pretty one-dimensional (unless you count the Brian May-esque guitar duet of Abide with Me as another dimension) with its (party) Time and (ice cold and refreshing) Place.

But hey. Ratings are probably for pussies too. The Fucking Champs are here to take over the world, so you might as well shotgun a brewski and join ‘em.

#Music
#chimpovich

8th Apr 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

El-P

I'll Sleep When You're Dead

Def Jux

2007, and The El-P show is in town once again and as usual it's tooled up ready for an all out assault on just about anything. It's hard to believe that this is only the second full length from the Def Jux label boss as he has been widely regarded as the unofficial king of the underground for a decade now.

It's been almost 5 years since the awesome Fantastic Damage and all the events both artistic and political that have occurred for El-P during this time have left their mark on this record. He has crossed musical paths with a whole host of artists over the years and the result is an album packed full of guest contributions by the likes of Cat Power, Mars Volta and NIN's Trent Reznor. Refreshingly though, none of these are mentioned as 'featuring' on the track-list as explained eloquently here by the man himself. "It's the Southpark theory: When George Clooney appeared on Southpark, it was as a gay dog. That's the type of shit that makes my day." He also delivered 2004's Blue Series fringe jazz project High Water which just contributes to the ever widening artistic pallet of this man.

El-P's political leanings are slightly less tangable. He sure ain't no Republican, but his venomous world view is disguised so expertly in the abstract lyrics that the general feeling of rage and well placed, intelligent scorn is a whole lot more powerful than direct spitting. But where this record differs from it's predecessor is in scale. Politically the world is a very different place now compared to 2002 and though Fantastic Damage was a pretty angry record, this one seems to have a much larger agenda . If his debut was the venting of personal hatred the followup is global and from the outset it's awesomely clear that El Producto is definitely back up in this ma fucka.

Tasmanian Pain Coaster starts things off on a scale that is rarely matched  on the rest of the record. It's big and it's scary. It's the sound of an army stamping its steel toe-capped boots to the beat, the looped piano is a call to arms. This opener is the unequivocal sound of a disaffected people marching to war and they march here in awesome numbers and with a power that is breathtaking. With Mars Volta and Matt Sweeney adding guitars to this melting pot of rage this is a force to be reckoned with. The unique thing about any record by El-P is it's ambiguity and irony. You never know when he's being serious or not. After this opener comes to an end and every hair on your body is tingling from a mixture of fear and excitement he starts the next song with the words "Bring me the dramatic intro machine," rendering this huge beginning mere irony and any power you drew from it now makes you feel a bit stupid and gullible. This is both annoying and impressive. It makes you wake up and realise that you're not listening to a normal hip hop record that can be allowed to wash over you with head nodding beats and empty lyrics. This is different and should be questioned at all times and it certainly isn't about to give up the booty this early on in the date.

So on we tread with our feet firmly on the ground. EMG uses a classic "Rock The Bells" beat and in it's Hip Hop hall of fame name-checking we see more of El-P's irony being exorcised on his very own genre. Drive sees El at his lyrical best. Using the car metaphor he gives a pretty bleak outlook on the world today. Starting with the lyric "C'mon Ma, can I borrow the keys, my generation's car-pooling with doom and disease," everything from "Jesus of Nascarith" to Falujah is put through this metaphor, and it's awesome. Flyentology creatively describes the new religion of doomed air travel, "faith v's physics," describing a plummeting plane as "the vessel of my awakening."

The album is put to bed with El-P's dystopian lullaby with Cat Power on backing vocals. Throughout this seven minute closer the beat oozes the boom of apocalyptic doom, the layered production and non-stop rhyming is very claustrophobic until everything is wiped away leaving a dirty looped beat to see us through to the end. The delicate keyboard that rides this beat  seems to lull us to sleep, but I fear it's the sleep of the dead not the peaceful.

#Music
#HHG

4th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Modest Mouse

We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

Epic

2004's Good News For People Who Love Bad News catapulted this band into the mainstream, earning them two Grammy nominations and selling over 1.6 million copies worldwide. Lead single Float On was given ample airplay and longtime fans held their breath to see if this stardom would be the end of the band. Thankfully We Were dead Before The Ship Even Sank shows them having weathered the storm beautifully. It's as fierce, original and furious as anything that's gone before and then some. Perhaps the addition of Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr to the lineup is what's provided these songs with a fresh sense of melody.

After a somewhat lackluster opener, Dashboard is where this record really introduces itself. It stomps around arrogantly with foot-tapping ease, the beat pounding under swathes of strings and a glorious trumpet fanfare. Fire It Up has all the soaring, skyward swagger of Float On, while Parting Of The Sensory pretty much sums up why this album is so good. It ambles along for the most part with a menacing and brooding shuffling of the feet, but slowly getting faster and more intense until it evolves into a drum pounding, fiddle frenzied tirade of "someday you will die somehow and somethings gonna steal your carbon." This song displays the raw edge of this band and their ability to keep this rawness under wraps but always have it looming. When it's unleashed, singer Isaac Brock's strained and maniacal voice spits a venom so powerful it's hard to imagine it comes from anywhere contrived.

Fly Trapped In A Jar has Marr's expansive and solid guitar sound driving the song to fantastic heights, while Spitting Venom is an eight and a half minute heavy-weight that changes tempo all the time climaxing in enough cymbals and trumpets that it really should close the album. But obviously they didn't mean us to end on this high. Invisible firmly draws a line under this album with it's wake-up call of driving guitars and stabbing vocals. The odd tempo of this closer cleverly explains the choice of opener as one could lead on to the other in a constant loop which is more than possible for an album this packed with ideas.

Modest Mouse have always plotted their own course and this album is evidence of their impressive ability to retain their fiercely original edge throughout 5 albums. In fact it heralds a new and expansive horizon for the band showcasing a depth of sound and breadth of vision that until now has only been hinted at. In a music scene inundated with new bands every day it's a treat to hear the work of a long standing lineup honing its sound.

#Music
#BC

4th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Papercuts

Can't Go Back

Gnomonsong

Commissioned by the Chimpomatic Masters to review Can’t Go Back by Papercuts, released on Devendra Bahart's new label Gnomonsong, I dutifully loaded the album and listened to it at my first opportunity. I was damp from a morning walk in the drizzle, there were no spare seats on the train and the girl who I'd coyly spent the week playing eye tennis with was facing the other way. Papercuts didn't help to lift my mood for a day of temping ahead because to be frank I didn't really get it. Imagine that the Lovin' Spoonful had been shown a vision of life 40 years into the future. No longer would they want to sing songs of daydreams, believing in magic or dancing all night to escape the summer in the city. Instead the 60’s free love and ‘tuning in and dropping out’ would have given way to failed office romances, tales of listlessly stoned teenagers and dumping your girlfriend by a 'dear john' letter for the 277th time. Sure 1967 dressed up as 2007 sounded good but I was left wondering – what’s the point?

Fast forward 24 hours to the weekend and Can’t Go Back began to make perfect sense. The sun was shining, the cherry blossom in bloom, contact had been made with the girl with the eyes and I couldn’t care less for the dues they say I’d got. Papercuts were a revelation; providing the dreamiest of soundtracks for a daydreaming boy all set for a day of, well as the Lovin' Spoonful might have said, 'day-dreaming'. Papercuts are a band for moments when time is most definitely on your side. Shut your eyes and you'll be transported back to endless summer holiday evenings of climbing trees and chasing girls, you might imagine lying in the Glastonbury stone circle watching clouds float over head or picture yourself with bare feet in exotic sand. John Brown chugs and lopes like Luna in lustful mode, tripping through daisies and dandelions with the Jesus and Mary Chain might sound like Unavailable and The World I Love wistfully recalls Mazzy Star.

If musical daydreaming is not your bag then Papercuts probably won't win you over. If, however, it is your usual cup of aural tea then I hazard a guess that Can’t Go Back may just be the soundtrack to your summer of 2007. Lovely stuff.

#Music
#Muxloe

3rd Apr 2007 - 10 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Panda Bear

Person Pitch

This is the third album from Animal Collective's drummer Noah Lennox, yet don't expect any Keith Moon style shenanigans. This is an utterly serious and ambitious sonic adventure. However, it differs from Animal Collective with it's immediate warmth and coherence. Person Pitch is simultaneously experimental and abstract, yet always accessible and immediate. A pretty hard trick to pull off.

Imagine Brian Wilson playing the restaurant at the end of the universe and you've pretty much got it.

Makes Kings Of Leon sound like Status Quo (cue the heckles).

#Music
#marmot

2nd Apr 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

DJ Food & DK

Now, Listen Again

Ninja Tune

Every generation boasts that music was better "in their day," that it meant more, had more depth - but of course this can't possibly be the case. It's not the music that changes, but the listeners. We go through certain stages in our life where music means more to us and changes us. Unfortunately if my theory is correct then there is a multitude of people out there of an impressionable age that are being profoundly changed by the Kaiser Chiefs - but that's fine, they'll grow out of it.

I can count a few periods in my life when this has happened. Most of these happened when I was a teenager and blissfully unaware of any larger musical implications that were occurring, I was just listening to the music and relating to it. But the most recent example of this occurred during 1994 - 1997 and centered round a few record labels and one club in particular - The Blue Note in Hoxton Square. Drum & Bass was a mere child then, as too was the genre formerly known as "Trip Hop" (thank christ). During Goldie's Metalheadz Sunday night sessions and the Ninja Tune Stealth parties I really felt part of something important, that the music that was being played was particular to this time, to this club and to these people. You felt like you were present at the birth of a genre. The excitement in that club at that time was truly memorable and though all artists and labels concerned are still making great music today that feeling for me has never been replicated or matched and nor should it.

Until that is, I heard Solid Steel's latest mix tape by the legendary DJ Food & DK. In 2001 Solid Steel's front-men DJ Food (Strictly Kev, PC) and DK (Darren Knot) kicked off this compilation series with the awesome Now, Listen and it's been going strong ever since with mixes from Amon Tobin, Mr. Scruff and The Herbaliser. Now, Listen recaptured the electrifying creativity of Coldcut's now legendary Journeys By DJ mix from 1995 and this follow up strives to do the same. I'm not sure how anyone can get close to the brilliance of Coldcut's mix, but with this compilation the feeling has been renewed and updated. The important thing about these and all great mix-tapes is their eclecticism and the inability to plot their course.

Now, Listen Again is a mash-up masterclass. Things kick off with the sample "Listen, that's the sound of ground being broken, it will sound familiar" and though this may not be groundbreaking music it's the familiar sound of the ground they broke a decade ago and it still sounds fantastic. Early on we get a brilliant fusion of Eric B & Rakim and The Human League's Being Boiled and move through Ram Jam's Black Betty, Primal Scream, Aphex Twin via a masterful megamix of DJ Shadow's back catalogue that blends effortlessly into the original Organ Donor sample of Giorgio Moroder's Tears. The obvious high point on this mix is the introduction of New Order's dub mix of Blue Monday, The Beach, out of The Irresistible Force and into the dirty 2 step beat of Big Dada's Part 2 featuring Fallacy.

Now, Listen Again doesn't have the dizzy peaks of it's predecessor but is a much more even mix and over-all is a more satisfying listen. The refreshing thing about this compilation is it's willingness to take the cheesy route. As we are guided through old-school hip hop, Drum & Bass and sun-soaked soul we see tones of well disguised rarities, but also glorious amounts of well trodden crowd pleasers. Enough water has flowed under the bridge for these mash-up veterans to simply enjoy their art and this is the sound of them doing just that. Since the demise of The Blue Note, Solid Steel's exit from BBC Radio and the suffocating fad of mash-up mania the mix tape has never sounded so good as it does here. It has re-ignited the spirit of the mid 90's with a wonderful blend of honest nostalgia and forward thinking optimism and was indeed "Food For My Soul."

#Music
#BC

2nd Apr 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet