Chimpomatic

Radiohead

In Rainbows

Radiohead's 7th album will forever be referred to as much for its content as the method by which it greeted our hungry ears. On 10th October we were literally 'given' the first morsels from this truly unique band since 2003's Hail To The Thief, but that wasn't the only great thing about that day. As a youngster I can remember the magical feeling that came with the arrival of a long awaited album. You would count down the days until it was released trapped in a glorious, internet-free vacuum of anticipation and speculation. Then when the day finally came the first thing on your mind was getting to that shop and claiming your copy, nothing else mattered in those days.

Fast forward to the present day and things have changed considerably. You rarely need to wait for anything now - leaks or promos arrive in your iTunes like it ain't no thang, and anyway even if you are waiting for something to be released by the time you get it your head is already littered with countless 'expert' opinions that it's hard to form your own. Well, last Wednesday we were all equal. Currently label-less, Radiohead took control of their property and gave it to everyone at the same time - no leaks, no promo copies and therefore no opinions. We were all free to make up our minds, not only on how valuable it was to us but what we thought of it. I felt a twinge of that magic return last week as I downloaded my copy and it's stayed with me throughout every play of In Rainbows.  I remember where I was on the release of pretty much every Radiohead album and Wednesday 10th of October was a special day indeed.

So, in the democratic spirit with which this record was released it seems fitting to apply such ideals to its scrutiny. So here are some Chimps early takes on the whole In Rainbows thing, and it ain't law it's just, like, their opinion man... - BC

People who have protested for years to me about Radiohead, have been approaching me recently saying; ‘Have you heard the new Radiohead album?  It’s Great!’

It is great indeed, a popularity that has not been the result of any concessions made by the band. ‘In Rainbows’ is beautiful, challenging and yes, repeat it, uplifting. It is the end of a sometimes lonely journey that has led them through the hinterland of ‘Kid A’, ‘Amnesiac’ and the not-to-be-ignored solo project by Thom Yorke last year; ‘The Eraser’. 

‘In Rainbows’ would not the subtle and lushly layered album it is without those earlier explorations, masterfully combining the art of melody (which the band claimed to forsake after ‘OK Computer) and laptop experimentation.  The ten songs are underpinned by Phil Selway’s tight framework of drumming and percussion, a structure which allows us to really appreciate the wonder of Yorke’s flying voice.

I heard that Muse were ‘the new Radiohead’.  That crown is still taken.  Indefinitely.  Enjoy the moment.

I paid 8 quid by the way.  A sum arrived at after several phonecalls, a lot of deleting,
re-entering and inner moral debate.

- LG - 5 Stars

Stand out tracks are Nude and All I Need. Yorke's vocals act as such a powerful instrument. Radiohead's best moments as a band come when they achieve the perfect balance between explosion and quiet - and this album isn't quite up on the explosive stuff. With these songs having being written and recorded over time, it feels the album lacks the cohesion of their finest releases.

The band should be commended for their release strategy, as the music industry certainly needs re-modelling. Having said that, it's any easy risk to take when you're seven albums deep on the back of millions in sales. Quite how it might work for new musicians I'm not so sure.

£3 and 3.5 stars - CJ

More than any other recording artist, one feels one should react to a new Radiohead album in the same manner one might to the unveiling of a controversial piece of contemporary art. One must try to connect with what one hears on a much deeper, esoteric level.
 
It is unquestionably, and unequivocally, a piece of Art. Beautifully challenging, not just to the individual listening, but on a far higher plane it is pointing the gun; the finger; the stick not only at the music industry, but society as a whole. In accessing the album the conch is passed to the world and is asked: What is music worth? What is art worth?
 
One parted with £4, as one is tight and would have bought it in the sales. (Though one wishes one had paid one pound as that would have made for a better punch line). - Locochimpo

The release of this album was an absolute bolt from the blue. Everyone knew album seven was past due, but no-one could have predicted a release this radical. As CJ mentions, it's a no-brainer when you're 70 millions albums deep in sales - and realistically it is not a suitable model for 99% of the bands out there. Why not just forget your worries about piracy and still release a CD? The labels don't have any problems knocking very recent releases by the likes of Kasabian or Kings of Leon down to £3 in HMV, so they're obviously covering their costs.

I've never had a problem either downloading music for free or paying for it if it's good. In fact I'm a conscientious thief, often stockpiling copies of albums I've downloaded, or shelling out £30 for a shoddy live box - as compensation for someone giving me a copy of a studio release.

The bottom line these days however is that CDs are fast becoming a thing of the past. I have shelves and shelves (or boxes under the bed these days) of CDs that have literally never been played on a CD player. They arrive, get ripped to digital and then filed away. Sleeve notes might get skimmed over on the way home. Radiohead have a always put great stock in their artwork, and I have a couple of the limited editions album's with Stanley Donwood's artwork. They're under the bed too.

I'd love to get the £40 discbox, but realistically it's not what I really want - as I'm not going to hang it on the wall like some sort of pseudo art collector. I want the music, and I'd most likely shell out the extra just to get the extra tracks. I plumped down £3 for the download and will pony up for the CD when it lands (hopefully) next year some time, just for the extra music. Promise.

And what of the music? I loved Hail To The Thief and saw it as a climax to their progressive work on Kid A and Amnesiac. I'm glad Thom Yorke's diverted his tinkering to his far-from-satisfactory solo record and put a bit of welly back into this, but it does feel some what incohesive in places, sagging a bit in the middle. Minor nit-picking though. It's a new Radiohead album and it's better than 90% of what's been around recently.  - CSF - 4.5 Stars

The start and finish of a Radiohead album have been a along fascination of mine. Having made some of the best music of this and the last century Radiohead have always had an annoying habit of chucking in the odd duff song towards the mid way point of an album then another at the end. OK Computer, Amnesiac and Hail To The Thief are definitely top heavy but I can't put the same claim on In Rainbows. This is one of the most consistent albums they've made.

Like Kid Amnesiac's wailing trumpets the new sound for this year is the blues guitar and its presence on 15 Steps is a great contrast to the stuttering electronics. Bodysnatchers was a stand-out powerhouse at last years live shows with the dirtiest riffs we've heard for years and Reckoner and House Of Cards have an excellent direction-less quality, maintaining the same beat and tempo throughout both songs in their own way suggest that they could go on for ever. Which leads me on to the main complaint, length. The album itself seems very short and many of the songs end way too abruptly.

But finally they get the ending right. Kid A could end so well if it wasn't for Motion Picture Soundtrack but a lot of the others start to tail off from about track 6. Jigsaw Falling Into Place is a future classic and one of the finest songs on this record but the spooked out lethargy of Videotape gives a powerful sense of finality to the album. All in all this one of the most complete pieces of work from Radiohead in years. You can hear every album they've made in this one including Pablo Honey and it still works. - BC - 4.5 Stars

The first listen of In Rainbows for me was an instant connection - it just sounded better than anything else I've heard for ages. There's an aura of confidence, of a band sitting back and enjoying playing together, the sound of people with something to say and the skills to say it.

Don't know if I've remembered this correctly, but I'm sure there was an episode of Later... once where Billy Corgan was on with Zwan (his post-Pumpkins project) and you could tell he really thought he'd changed the face of music etc again - and then you could see that vision crumbling while he watched Radiohead - who really had. (Almost as good as the time Dylan played Donovan one of his new songs.) The other thing I always remember about them was seeing them play Victoria Park in 2000, and just being amazed at how they'd managed to get so many people to listen to really out-there, avant-garde rock - and absolutely love it.

They just seem ahead of the game somehow - yes they've got record collections filled with Aphew Twin and Autechre - but it's translating that into rock and singalongable songs that makes them work so well. Love the ballads on this one - House Of Cards is as close as I think I've ever heard them get to a love song. Stormers like 15 Step and Bodysnatchers are huge. There's a real sense of them having taken the experiments of the past and learned how to incorporate them without trying so hard this time round, leaving it all feeling like complete, fully formed collection. You somehow want to inhabit this album - or maybe just hear it loud and live. Personally, I like the fact it's concise - it's one of the few albums this year where I've wanted to listen to it altogether, in order - and then go back to the beginning again.

To pull all this off, and then top it with the added "hey we know it's 2007" move of all the download/boxset options makes them feel connected to the world we've all found ourselves in. Totally agree with BC above - it does feel special to let everyone get it at the same time. As someone who grew up waiting months, sometimes a year for albums to be shipped out to the colonies from England, it's weird to click and instantly get stuff these days - does feel like this has somehow put some of the excitement and fun back into music. Would love to know how the experiment's done - real drag it's not chart eligible, but maybe that's all pointless and irrelevant now too... C71 - 4.5 Stars

#Music
#Chimpomatic

19th Oct 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Melvins / Big Business / A Purge of Dissidents

The Fillmore, NYC / Luna Lounge, Brooklyn

Two gigs in close proximity for America's best kept secret, the mighty Melvins - bang in the middle of a short North American tour. Taking a similar approach to the show that was brought to Europe earlier this year, the Melvins have their own built in support act - Big Business. As a bonus, the shows were opened by a series of sick psychedelic animations called "a purge of dissidents".

Having toured exhaustively through 2006 and 2007, the Melvins have returned with a revamped set which includes some new takes on old material. Opening up with It's Shoved and a bizarre cover version of the Beatles' I Wanna Hold Your Hand (each of which last about 2 minutes) the band chunks into Civilised Worm from last year's magnificent album A Senile Animal. They follow with a brace of unreleased tracks including the brilliant Suicide in Progress. However, it's when they play Lizzy from seminal album Houdini that the crowd really starts responding and the band themselves seem to pick up the energy levels.

Some of the usual crowd pleasing favourites have been dropped in favour of tracks from the Eggnog and Lysol albums - With Teeth sounding particularly fine in it's revitalised form, but the fast medley of tracks from Senile Animal is what really gets the fans moving - the middle of the dancefloor turning into a churning mass of pogoing and moshing. The pace slackens off towards the end of the set, with Mechanical Bride demonstrating just how dark and sludgy they can be (and folks, I mean that in a really good way), before closing with another classic Melvins cover version of Alice Cooper's Ballad of Dwight Fry.

The band seems in quite a serious mood on these dates (with the exception of Jarred Warren, who insists to the crowd that his T-shirt does not depict a Unicorn - it's a "fantasy horse"), but the playing is tight and the fans are very happy. A line of more than 100 people turned away from the sold-out Brooklyn date gives you an idea of the loyal following this band inspires... most of them just hung around outside the gig until the show was finished, just on the off chance they might get in.

#Music
#Gig
#HarrisPilton

9th Oct 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Band of Horses

Cease To Begin

Sub Pop

2005's Everything All Of The Time was a surprise hit for me, coming from the back of the pack like a young Steve Cram to stream ahead and take gold. The gift that kept on giving, it seemed to just get better and better with the most obvious high point The Funeral quickly matched by several other classic tracks.

After the success of that album things seemingly fell apart from the band, with co-founder Mat Brooke departing to form a new band Grand Archives - leaving Ben Bridwell to continue under the Band of Horses name with a completely overhauled squad for album number two.

May's UK visit soon put to bed any doubts about the band's future, with Bridwell's beefed-up foot-stomping style taking centre stage for one of my gig's of the year. New songs like Lamb Of The Lam and Ode To LRC sounded great - for once, rather than lulling the crowd between the well-known 'hits' it actually really got the gig going. Cease To Begin quickly became a most-anticipated-of-007 release.

That early accolade became a mixed blessing, as while the foot-stomping style provides many of the album's high points - the departure of second songwriter Brooke may also be responsible for some of the albums shortcomings. While it is an album packed full of great songs and no duds, there somehow seems to be less variation between songs and the highs are possibly not quite as memorable.

Bottom line: Is There A Ghost?, Ode To The LRC, Marry Song, Cigarettes, Wedding Bands, Window Blues - all awesome. A great second album from a band that are only going to get better. And they rock live.

#Music
#CSF

26th Sep 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Okkervil River

The Stage Names

Jagjaguwar

As the first beats of The Stage Names creeps into audible view any fan of this band will undoubtedly realise that times have changed since the fantastic Black Sheep Boy, Okkervile River's 2005 desperate triumph. With The Stage Names, front man Will Sheff has again managed a triumph but its of a wholly different nature. I guess you could call it a triumphant triumph which I would have thought was the best type. Black Sheep Boy had the power to almost drown you in melancholy as Sheff's tales of woe and despair were delivered with treacle like denseness over all encompassing soundscapes. Though he has by no means cheered up he is aiming his desperation to the heavens and the result is epic.

Sheff writes like a novelist and composes songs full of mysterious characters and plays out his worldly misgivings through each of their sad, broken-down lives. While Black Sheep Boy conjured up images of a time long past The Stage Names is very much rooted in the present. Here we see Sheffs characters as musicians, fans or failing victims of the show-biz mangle. All this is told with Sheff's unique lyrical ambiguity as he manages to swamp you with bookish poetry while always slipping a wink here and there to warn you not to take it all too seriously.

The first three tracks set the tempo high as the dirty riffs of Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe count you in, Unless It Kicks is an endlessly climbing rock powerhouse of a track while A Hand To Take Hold Of The Scene has a swaggeringly jovial jaunt as satisfying as a Love Cats-era Cure and as it descends into blasts of trumpet and backing 'doo doo doo's' we could be listening to Spoon. (Yes, it's that good.) But as thrilling as this opening run of songs is we know it can't continue and it just wouldn't be the same without Sheff providing us with ample opportunity to give in willingly to his unavoidable wave of blissful melancholia. Savannah Smiles is an achingly delicate tale of regret and lost moments while Girl In Port is Sheff at his storytelling best.

But if for some unimaginable reason, like you're mental, all this hasn't managed to convince you by the time you get to the penultimate John Allyn Smith Sails then you're given one last chance to reach out and grab this sorry talent by the scruff of its dirty neck. This is Sheff's tribute to the late John Berryman and it's his finest moments to date. Sheff adopts the first person as he chronicles the poets suicide but as a final twist of the grimmest humor he turns the song into a masterful rendition of the Beach Boys Sloop John B. As he launches himself to his death 'with a book in each hand,' the sorry admission, "this is the worst trip I've ever been on," rings out with laughable desperation and this songwriters genius is immortalised for ever.

#Music
#BC

7th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Jeffrey Lewis

12 Crass Songs

It’s been a good week for record label PR and a bad one for Chimp research, following from Muxloe’s Young Marble Giants admission, I had penned the following review based upon the first few listens of Jeffrey Lewis’ 12 Crass Songs:

Jeffrey Lewis began life as a beatnik, or at least his parents were, a lifestyle choice that deemed comic books and blues records more suitable entertainment than that old Hippy’s foe: Television. Lewis took that early absence in his life personally it seems, as TV is one of several targets in the sights of his nasally-voiced shotgun on new album 12 Crass Songs. 

Before becoming a musician and a member of New York’s anti-folk movement (the power and anger of punk via acoustic guitar) Lewis drew (aha) on his upbringing to become an underground comic book artist. The sparse/direct style of comic books runs through 12 Crass Songs; it’s a wall-to-wall bunch of blunt, angry self-effacement - delivered like a crude black and white sketch through minimal music and Lewis’ talking/singing.

12 Crass Songs doesn’t let up. Nothing is spared as various tones of grey are added to the bleak portrait of the western world today. The human race is the first in the firing line on End Result “I’m part of the race that kills for possessions, part of the race that’s wiping itself out” On I Ain’t Thick, Lewis has his daggers drawn for that old villain 'The Man' who uses TV/Sarah Jessica Parker, consumerism and even history books, to keep the masses downtrodden, but Lewis ain’t having that y’all.

Systematic Death plays out like a comic book story, etching a sketch of Mr and Mrs Average America doomed to a life of misery, oppression and downright idiocy under the SYSTEM SYSTEM SYSTEM!

If he’s pissed at Sarah Jessica Parker, then imagine the ire Lewis reserves for Bush (I bet even Sarah Jessica Parker is pissed at him) and Mr. President’s policies, particularly his idea of defence, come under the penlike scalpel of Lewis. Even punk itself isn’t safe. Punk is Dead laments that the movement that once inspired Lewis and his contempories sold itself out “Punk is Dead. Punk is Dead. Just another cheap product for the consumer’s head”.

I would disagree however, what is punk other than getting a personal message out there by the most direct means possible (or is that DHL? (Corporate Fascists)). It’s easy to roll the eyes at another New York artist bitching about conspiracies and the like, but that’s exactly the fuel that feeds 12 Crass Songs. The world in 2007 is a mixed-up place of complacency and terror, artists that stick their head out, stare you in the eyes and point that out should be saluted. However, it surely wouldn’t detract from the message to add a splash of colour now and again, if only musically….

Then, like a tardy Colombo, I discovered that I had overlooked a vital piece of evidence; 12 Crass Songs is exactly that; 12 cover versions from late 70s/Early 80s English Anarchists Crass.  It’s depressing to think that 30 year old messages of protest and opposition still ring true and clear today, and strangely all of my thoughts were still valid - even though I refuse to believe that Sarah Jessica Parker was a key instrument in Thatcher’s oppression of Britain’s working classes.

#Music
#chimpovich

3rd Sep 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Superbad

(dir. Greg Motolla)

Another effortlessly funny comedy from the Jew-Tang Clan. Knocked-Up star Seth Rogan started writing this w partner Evan Goldberg when they were 14 apparently - and it feels like they managed to nail that weird teen moment when boys are only really emotionally involved with other boys, but putting all their efforts into scoring chicks.

Taking the one-night template laid down by Dazed And Confused etc, we follow Michael Cera (George Michael Jr in Arrested Development) and Jonah Hill as they try and buy some booze so they can impress some girls and get into a party. Along the way their even geekier buddy Christopher Mintz-Plasse reinvents himself as 25 year old Hawaiian organ donor, "McLovin" with the help of a fake ID and two doofus cops (Seth Rogan and Bill Hader) who let him roll with them after he's involved in a liquor store hold-up.

Pretty much wins you over from the opening credits. The 70s flavoured funk-rock soundtrack lifts it from the now into a generic US high school experience - only the phones and lack of net jokes really anchor it to 2007. What makes this and Knocked-Up work is that it's taking the gross-out template, but keeping it all in the realms of possibility (just), letting the humour come from the awkward tensions of growing up rather than constructing some outlandish string of coincidences and wacky scenes to ramp up the laughs.

#Film
#chimp71

31st Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Devendra Banhart

Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Mountain

XL

More freak-folk from the leader of the freak-pack. SRDTM delivers on the idea of Devendra Banhart, moving effortlessly from 70s stoner jams, to warm folky riffs, nods to Tropicalia and cheeky numbers answering that old Zappa question: does humour belong in music?

Recorded in Topanga Canyon, the 70s enclave in the LA hills where Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Stephen Stills etc all decamped to play guitar in each other's back yards. That laidback spirit fills this album; a retro exercise perhaps, but the songs are strong enough to make it feel relevant in 2007. It's got that feeling of a band hanging out, living and breathing the songs, and seeing where they can take them.

The immediate winner is Seahorse, a three-part epic that rolls from an acoustic opening to take in touches of The Doors, Dave Brubeck, The Stranglers' Golden Brown, Wild Wood-era Paul Weller etc, all with his Marc Bolan-ish vibrato over the top; feels like a lost classic that's going to storm live. Kind of fitting that it's about reincarnation with so many references tucked in.

Tonada Yanomaminista is a triumphant, summery singalong, almost breathless at 2:53; Bad Girl is as mellow as Fleetwood Mac's Albatross; Seaside a moving piano ode to er, the seaside; Latin flavours come out on Samba Vexillographica, Carmencita and Rosa; Shabop Shalom and So Long Old Bean fun songs that break up the fragile romance of My Dearest Friend and I Remember.

One of 2007's strongest albums so far.

Like his alternative list of album titles:

Milk the Wind
Shes a Hot Dog
Mountaneous Confunktion
Greatest Hits
Hubba Hubba Planet
Electric Pizza Cops
Foreskin Sword (what it is & how to use it)
Mama, Mujhe Mall se Jeans Lenee Hai
Porkin' the Broken Knee (Electroxtensial Chop!)
Who is Kadamon?
The Burnt Frizbee
Abhor the Coagulator (1964 version)
Koala Mans Return to Pineapple Temple
ihop ihop
Bacchanalian Beat Box
Thrice the Phat Magus
Gaga Blood & the Balls of .......
Rich Gals Shampoo n' Conditioner Blues
Talkin Weleda Haushka Bronners Blues
Military Massengill
Cyber Christ and the Gnostic Titi-Slap Part Deux
You Who are Familiar with Grandma's Hyacinth

#Music
#chimp71

26th Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Spoon

The Borderline, London

Although pretty shattered from a heavy day's work setting up a new field office, some of team chimpomatic still made it down to The Borderline to see favourites Spoon on their second date in London - having played Cargo the night before. The Borderline is a great little venue, and it was nice to see a lack of both fashionistas and cameras in the crowd, just the relatively few Londeners who seem to be aware of this great band.

The songs from the new record fitted comfortably into the live show, with Rhythm and Soul, Don't Make Me A Target and The Underdog interspersed with songs from various older albums - Beast and Dragon Adored and Everything Hits At Once being some of my all-time favourites.

Singer Britt Daniel cut his hand on a guitar string at one point, prompting a bit of chit chat which loosened things up while both hand and guitar were repaired, before cranking straight back into it. The sound at the venue is also worth noting, for once getting the balance of volume and clarity absolutely perfect. The band sounded beefy but you could pick out each instruments' contribution so clearly they seemed to each have their own speaker.

There was something lacking in the show that held it back from being a classic... and all I can think is that all their songs are good to the same level. There was no boring bits, making for no obvious high points. Some of their tracks crank up like they are going to spiral into a ten minute jam, but often they are around the same length, and around the same tempo. Without some of the effects that the records employ, some of the moodier songs are brought down a notch - but where you might expect a solo acoustic version for something like I Summon You you get the full band working the song, bringing it up a notch but taking something away. I'm not sure if that's a criticism of not, and if it is I don't know what the answer would be.

Bottom line is that this is a great band, with a huge back catalogue of great songs that are likely to never disappoint live.

#Music
#Gig
#CSF

22nd Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Latitude Festival

Henham Park, Southwold, Suffolk

I have always been of the opinion that dysentery is a disease best avoided.  After attending the Latitude Festival however, which took place last weekend in Henham Park, Suffolk, I realise that there may be many of you who are not so fastidious.

By all accounts last year’s festival, the first ever Latitude, was a grand affair; 10,000 people, families welcome (encouraged even), beautiful country park and good music.  Seduced by this proposal I followed a group of friends up the A12 and spent four days in an authentic, if slightly more squalid recreation of an earthquake refugee camp.

I have reached a respectable age and had thus far managed to avoid ever attending a music festival.  As someone who is mildly agoraphobic and plagued by an autistic need to bathe myself once a day, it may not have been a good idea to change the habit of a lifetime. 

With a gleeful wringing of hands the organisers announced on the eve of kick-off that all tickets had been sold.  20,000 people this year but apparently no proportionate increase in the facilities or the size of the arenas.  An excrement mountain due to an inadequate number of toilets; a complete collapse of water pressure and thus showers and overcrowding in several venues was the result.  The heavens took pity and, apart from a couple of heavy showers, blessed the reeking campers with sunshine and merry weather.

Day one; It was all about Wilco.  Two Gallants, Midlake, The Fields, began slowly cranking up the afternoon, but I was already worried that the weekend’s line-up which had looked so promising, might have been a bit heavy on whining and men sincerely frowning over their guitars.  Now Wilco are ostensibly a band of men who frown sincerely over their guitars, but they are also schizophrenic and utterly compelling. 

Before they got on stage I was bored; bored by the many children running around, bored by not being able to bring your own booze into the arena, bored by the crowds packed solidly into the comedy arena sheltering from quite a few boring performances.  The Magic Numbers had bounced the audience around a bit, but I just can’t take the whole beard and siblings thing.  It’s all a bit creepy, inspite of the smiley faces.

Then Wilco walked out and with a great white burn of lights, a heave of the crowd and a wall of guitars, they gave a performance to wake everybody up.  I had seen them in May at Shepherd’s Bush Empire and the hour-long set they played at Latitude shared all the highlights from that night but seemed even more determined.  New album ‘Sky Blue Sky’ got a good outing with storming renditions of ‘Walken’ and ‘Shake it off’.  Albums ‘Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’ and ‘A Ghost Is Born’ also got their hits out; teasing the audience with their gentle melodies before snapping into trademark guitar tsunamis and feedback.  Inspired.

Like a musical dose of Valium, Damien Rice must have been back-stage anxiously waiting to numb the crowd from their Wilco-induced high.  His presence in this otherwise exhilarating line-up was inexplicable and who in the world stayed to listen to him I couldn’t stay - but boy, the rapturous noise they made when he’d finished echoed across the campsite. Most disturbing.

Day two;  Bit of a slow builder again.  Herman Dune and Bat for Lashes on the main stage competed for ‘Sound-alike of the day’.  The Cretin who compared the former ‘to the likes of Bob Dylan’ should be strung up with guitar wire; this blatant Jonathan Richman tribute band are within a Nordic-facial-hair’s breadth of copyright infringement.  As for ‘Bat for lashes’, again the literature describes her as having been ‘compared to Bjork, Cat Power and Tori Amos’.  ‘Derivative of’ might be more accurate. 

Prize for most enthusiastic performance of the festival goes to The Hold Steady’.  They run on stage like a bunch of college jocks and front man Craig Finn, announces, ‘We’re the Hold Steady and we’re here to have a good time!’  It’s the last day of their tour and they are clearly over-excited. ‘Stuck between stations’, ‘Massive Night’, ‘Party Pit’ all provoke a lot of finger pointing form the crowd of forty-something-blokes enjoying some healthy man-rock and working themselves up to a belching coronary.  The band strings out every guitar crescendo and look like they never want to leave.  As Craig says, ‘When we started out it was so we could all meet a couple of nights a week and drink some beer.  This is beyond our wildest dreams’.

If Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, who followed, had had a modicum of The Hold Steady’s energy they would have avoided my nomination for Biggest Disappointment of the weekend.  As it was, my own hands were reluctant to celebrate contrived, gurney, vocals and a dull performance.  If they’d played the CD’s of their two albums I’d have had a great time. 

And so it was that CSS brought their balloons onto the stage of the Obelisk arena and revived a sagging day.  The crowd needed relief and their vacuous dance-pop perked it up like effervescent vitamin C.   ‘Let’s make love (and listen to death from above)’ closed the set.  With helium in her lungs Lovefoxxx squealed out her appreciation to the audience after an hour of cat suited carnival.

The Good the Bad and the Queen had to headline I guess, but it was another strange change of tempo when they ambled on. ‘History Song’ and ‘Herculean’ are unexpectedly ballsy, in no small part due to the contributions of Clash Bassist, Paul Simonon.  He takes control of the stage with loping strides and a brooding presence, plucking at his guitar and sending his deep bass across the crowd like a defibrillator.  A Dickensian London backdrop and a top hat for Mr Albarn seem to court great Blakean comparisons; Songs of Innocence and Experience.  And although he’s a very clever boy, Damon’s a right annoying twat with it.  ‘Soldier’s Tale’ comes with a sanctimonious nod to the ‘Soldier I met who was going to Iraq’ and when he brings on MC Eslam Jawaad for the encore I’m squirming at the smug self-consciousness of it all. 

When the band plays ‘80’s life’ I can’t help but think of the last Blur album, and clearly I’m not the only one musing on this.  In the audience there are a lot of girls grinning.  Occasionally I hear one of them shouting, ‘I want to fuck you Damon’… which suggests that something less than raging Anti-war sentiments were rousing the crowd’s passions.

Day three; My limbs are crippled, caked with filth resulting from the lack of shower facilities.  An internal build up of noxious fumes as I attempt to avoid going to the toilet and asphyxiation by medieval stench when I finally do, have all left me in a bad way.  So far this whole Festival bollocks is proving no substitute for a good three-hour gig at the Brixton Academy.

But that’s ok because today’s line up is looking good.  I was annoyed to miss most of the Andrew Bird set after collapsing with exhaustion from my third toilet trip of the day.  All this hovering above the chasm and straining is traumatizing me.  What I eventually do hear sounds bewitching in the summer afternoon.  The drummer, Dosh (accomplished electro-musician himself), gives fine support to Bird who provides vocals, looping violins, guitars, glockenspiel and goddam fine whistling.

Next up The National, whom I’ve been anticipating like a child waits for Christmas.  But Oh No! What’s this?…. there appears to be confusion on stage.  Look, there are Messrs Dessner, Dessner, Devendorf and Devendorf, but what are they doing spending so long tinkering with their instruments and sticking tape onto everything?  It transpires that The National arrived at Henham Park ten minutes ago and came empty handed.  None of their instruments deigned to suffer the stench of Latitude so they’re having to borrow everything off the Cold War Kids and Andrew Bird.

It shows.  The band look ravaged and uneasy with their purloined Orchestra.  There are great songs in there somewhere; ‘Mistaken for Strangers’ (from their latest album ‘Boxer’), ‘Karen’ (off of ‘Songs for Dirty Lovers’) and ‘Mr November’ (from ‘Alligator’) but there is no subtlety to the sound.  Lyrical contributions from keyboards and violins that make the albums so symphonic and full are totally swamped by the guitars.  Lines like ‘I used to be carried in the arms of a cheerleader’ or ‘The English are coming!’ should by rights swell this audience to a festival frenzy and the lead singer is trying hard.  He rasps ‘I won’t fuck us over!’ with a kind of tortured mania that seems ironically relevant to the shitty day they’re having but it feels like a bit of a lost cause.  Two songs from the end of this too-short set they kick into ‘Fake Empire’ and it’s almost like they get their conviction back.  I get goose bumps with the rhythmic build and the crowd responds, maybe they’ve just warmed up?!  Well they have, but now they’ve got to get off; ‘Thank you very much! I’m glad we got here because half an hour ago it looked like we wouldn’t make it’.  I feel cheated.

The Cold War Kids do well next and The Rapture, like CSS last night, provide a poptastic interlude which the crowds devour.  I sense that a lot of people are getting a bit tired of some of the slightly dour singer-song writing going on and want a sugar rush.  ‘Get myself into it’ and ‘Whoo!  Alright-Yeah… Uh’ do the job and you have to hand it to them, Matt Safer and Luke Jenner know how to handle their audience.  They tease us by walking on and off stage, bounce off each other vocally and insist on being resiliently up beat. 

Jarvis Cocker is on stage next as the sun begins to sink and if you haven’t been able to make it to the Comedy tent, Jarvis provides plenty of star cabaret.  Again, however, there is the sense that everyone would probably rather be watching Pulp, just as last night they would have much preferred Blur to the drones of Damon and his crew.  But Jarvis encapsulated his previous band more singularly than Damon ever did, so if you close your eyes you can almost daydream that…

‘I stand astride these two monitors like the Rock Colossus that I am’, claims the lanky one as he bemuses the crowd with surreal commentaries on the weather.  He then gains our instant favour by empathising with the epic efforts required to have got this far into the Festival.  ‘The world is still run by cunts’, brings his set to an end and those of us who weren’t expecting much are impressed by a run of songs which have never been less than engaging.  Just as I finish clapping and start to, mentally prepare myself for the festival finale with the Arcade Fire, Jarvis reappears;

‘We were going to end there but I just want to play you one more song which I promise this band will never play again’. 

‘What?  A golden slice of Pulp!’, the crowd wonders eagerly, ‘Common People’, ‘Disco 2000’?!…

‘It’s called, the Eye of the Tiger’.

‘What?’

And so off they go.  Jarvis and his band play themselves out with a sparkling cover of Eye of the Tiger and the exhausted crowd smile and cheer their appreciation.

If day one had been all about Wilco, then I guess the whole festival was really about the Sunday night headliners.  I’m sure that anyone reading this would probably take the credit for introducing their friends to the Arcade Fire, probably the most exciting band in the world at present.  But to find yourself in a field with 20,000 people equally convinced that the band are their own private discovery, throws you a little.

The scene is set with a great red velvet backdrop, several oversized Victorian camera props onto which are projected surreal faces in black and white and a lot of red neon.  Tantalizingly the stage is covered with all manner or paraphernalia; hurdy-gurdies, cymbals and the pipes of a great organ.  In the hands of an army of musicians each gets its moment in the limelight during a performance which just keeps getting better.

The husband and wife pairing of Win Butler and Regine Chassagne take it in turns to lead the way on a comprehensive journey through their two albums, Neon Bible and Funeral.  From the pounding urgency of ‘No cars go’ to the swelling Mariachi trumpets of ‘Ocean of Noise’ there is no escaping the band’s persistent inventiveness and passion.  Highlights were aplenty but the Bruce Springsteen coloured tracks ‘Antichrist Television Blues’ and ‘Keep the car running’ were blistering.  Projected onto the backdrop was footage taken from a camera apparently embedded in the snare drum.  Watching a giant drummer beating the rhythm out so relentlessly was mesmerising as the music continued to build, crescendoing in the ‘Power out’ and as a finale, ‘Rebellion (Lies)’.  As the performance came to a close fireworks showered over the back of the audience and someone lit a series of paper lanterns that billowed softly up into the night sky.  The band seemed just as entranced by the moment as they looked out over 20,000 arms clapping in time to the music; ‘Every time you close your eyes’ they sang but we didn’t dare.

If I’m honest I’d have to say that Butler’s voice repeatedly got lost in the roar of the music and I found myself anxious that he was straining to meet the range which his songs demanded in a live performance.  Perhaps I was just distracted by the tuneless moron next to me who insisted on droning loudly and inanely along with the music: and there are a lot of opportunities to accompany the songs of the Arcade Fire with a choice bit of off-key humming. 

Latitude 2007 will be the first and last festival I ever attend.  Three days of crowds, camping and mountains of faeces, book ended by two fantastic performances by Wilco and the genius of Arcade Fire.  If anything it has convinced me to spend a lot more time in the Shepherd’s Bush Empire enjoying whole-hearted performances by some of the great bands who were compromised by poor organisation and shorter sets.  To my mind learning that may have made the whole experience worth it.

Overall experience - 2
Music in general - 3.5
Arcade fire and Wilco - 4.

#Music
#Gig
#LG

19th Jul 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Sebadoh

The Freed Man

Domino

In this humble chimps opinion, there can never be a bad time to remind yourself of the musical genius that is Lou Barlow, but 2007 has provided particularly rich pickings for fans of the indie veteran.  We've already witnessed the triumphant return to recorded form of amp abusers Dinosaur Jr, with the awesome 'Beyond' an album that featured a rejuvinated Barlow back behind the bass for the first time in 20 years.  Now, at the other end of the Volumic scale we get a repackaged and re-released version of 'The Freed Man', the self-explanatory titled first album from Sebadoh, the band Barlow formed after a well publicised fallout with Dinosaur Jr's J. Mascis.

The importance of Sebadoh in the underground indie scheme of things can never be underestimated. The lo-fi intimacy, invention and sheer refusal to be pigeonholed provided inspiration for many great bands that followed; class acts such as Guided by Voices and Pavement to name but two.  Whereas subsequent albums were more rounded and accesible, the 52 'songs' that make up the reissued Freed Man give an invaluable insight into the inner workings of the band from Boston.  I say songs, but it really plays out like a series of half ideas; the hyperactive result of stoned and wandering minds, which Barlow and partner Eric Gaffney undoubtedly possessed.

Tracks start then end without warning or breakdown altogether, all intercut with taped interviews and random commercials recorded from TV.  With the longest of those 52 tracks clocking in at just over 2 and a half minutes ('Julienne' and even that is really 3 songs stuck together), The Freed Man is restless but not irritating and most definately rewarding.  Like discovering a notebook of Picasso's sketches as he worked to create later masterpieces.

#Music
#chimpovich

25th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet