Chimpomatic

Mudhoney (w/ Support from The Heads)

Koko, Camden

The Heads fuse a rhythmic, pounding and distorted barrage of psychedelia and garage rock into a calculated layering of sound-wave upon sound-wave. With shards of indie punk, a smattering of post-rock and a nod to British beat groups, The Heads are your archetypal British psych-noiseniks, destined to play to a handful of believers for the rest of their days. And you know what, they probably don't care whether they are playing in a garage or a medium sized theatre supporting Mudhoney. The Heads are rather clinical, precise, mathematical and perhaps anal about their delivery. But have they forgotten something? I dare say they have. The Heads look more like an assortment of grown up teenagers than a real band that means it, man. Remember the serious metal kids at school who practiced most evenings in the common room? We have the faceless one, with a mop of hair that curiously covers his whole face. How he hits the strings I don't know. The skinny nerd on the other side of the stage could be the bastard love child of John Denver and Thom Yorke. I kid you not. Standing almost as still as an RAF drill sergeant, the guitarist and occasional "singer" (the sound is largely instrumental bar a few mumblings here and there) is the antithesis of your typical rock n roll front man. Instead, the moves and shakes and left to the bass player, who they position in the middle. Probably to give some balance and take your mind of the other two. Gyrating to his bass and throwing looks of passion, this is the one who wants to "make it" and tries his best to make up for the rockstar shortcomings of the others. The Heads continue their rythmical drone which, with eyes closed, is a novel experience. Stage persona and attitude may seem academic, but if it's the whole theatrical package that turns you on, leave The Heads live experience to the nerdy-math rock faithful and listen to the record back home, reclining with some headphones and more than likely, you will enter the dream-space intended by these fuzzy warblers.

Mudhoney by contrast, bounce on stage and immediately slink into the low slung unpretentious hip-ness that only a Seattle band of the early 90's can. Once thrown into that whole scene that started with a "G" and shared with Nirvana, Tad and Soundgarden, Mudhoney had little in common - as did any - other than guitars, plaid shirts and the same home town. Oh and the Sub Pop Label. A dose of early Ramones simplicity and naivety together with Nuggets and Pebbles era pre-punk psych-fuzz garage-blues super fuzz and Mudhoney's genre defining sound became a blueprint which other built on, expanded and layered. But tonight we have the originals and singer and sometime guitarist Mark Arm is bouncing around the stage like a chicken possessed. All angular limbs and a flail of dirty soul vocals and the audience are already inching over to the barrier trying to touch the Seattle scene veteran. It's not long till the hits start rolling in - and not far into the set, they deliver their signature song, "Touch Me I'm Sick" at breakneck pace, with Arm on slide guitar adding a metallic zest to proceedings. Arm tells the 30-something grown up indie rock kids to mind how they go, as a bout of slamming and good natured volley of crowd surfers ensue. Mudhoney sound and look just as good as they ever did and move like a well oiled machine. Going through the motions ain't for this lot.

Photos: Al De Perez

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#ADP

16th Oct 2009 - 9 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Blakes

The Blakes

Time was when I would pool my baby-sitting proceeds and parental pocket money for a once fortnightly trip to the closest thing that a small provincial German town could muster to an equivalent of Rough Trade. Such hard won earnings would be sacrificed at the musical altar of the latest Seattle, Manchester or Boston Gods or perhaps invested in discs born a generation before in New York state country basements or conjured up in a downtown New York lofts. The sounds of yester-year were guaranteed a fair hearing as they would be on permanent rotation acting as a soundtrack to games of Nintendo, occasional teenage fumbles and 'what am I all about?' existential identity crises. Until another shopping trip a fortnight later that is. At least they had a whole two weeks to win me over. But oh, times have changed.

Unfortunately today's new kids on the block have a far tougher task in proving their worth. There is no two week rotation any longer, but in the days of 7000 downloaded songs in your back pocket and the limited airplay of journeys to and from work new sounds have a tougher task to dislodge that which is already tried and tested. Time is not on the side of newcomers. Such is the fate of one of the new generation – The Blakes, a band who (rather conveniently for this particular review) hail from Seattle but recorded their debut album in the same Fort Apache Studios once home to Boston Lemonheaded and Pixied indie darlings.

The self titled 'The Blakes' is an album that back in the day might well have been a slow-burning winner, but alas now it will probably turn out to be a 'life in the fast lane' loser. It is not that The Blakes are an outfit without merit, just that they now have far more competition. 'Modern Man' is all angular guitars and off kilter drumming that makes you want to clap your hands and say 'yeah', while the autistic wailing of 'Two Times' makes you want to climb Australian Vines. Sadly for the Blakes, there are acts firmly ensconced on my playlists that already serve these purposes, and I dare say on other Chimpomatic reader's lists too.

Ironically, the tunes that are most likely to be awarded playlist status - as opposed to cropping up on shuffle - arrive when The Blakes set themselves free of the template set by their Seattle predecessors 15 years before. There is a lack of coherence that counts against this being a great album but at least hints at things to come. With shared singing and writing duties there appears to be something of an identity crisis at the heart of this band. No doubt The Blakes consider themselves edgy outsiders, in the mould of all the other outsiders now in the mainstream, but when they let down their guard they actually churn out songs that demonstrate a talent for finding a groove ('Vampire') and an ear for a pop tune ('Lintwalk') that the sensibilities of their hoped for 'alternative' fanbase might rail against. If The Blakes can sort out their own version of the 'what are we all about' teenage existential identity crisis then they may just produce an album that finds itself permanently rotated rather than just making transient shuffle appearances that are as occasional as teenage fumblings.

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#Muxloe

25th Jul 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Justice

Live at Somerset House, 11 July 2008

Ed Banger

Ah the English summer. Standing around in the great outdoors, drink in hand, waiting for a band to come on stage, willing the rain to stop... Audiences here are nothing if not committed to having a good time, which almost makes it okay when you find yourself standing around in the rain for hours in the name of entertainment. 

Last time I tried to catch a gig at Somerset House Al Qaida managed to disrupt my plans to see Queens Of The Stoneage, so I was pretty glad when support act Late Of The Pier turned up. Sounded a bit like someone updating Devo, all angular beats and noisy keyboard lines, but quite a bouncy set, and they made the most of all the umbrellas in the audience.

Tonight though belonged to the mighty Justice, one of the few acts in recent times who've managed to push beyond the whole "two men, two laptops" problem of presenting live dance music. They're still standing there, twiddling away, but somehow the presence of a giant neon cross bookended by two giant stacks of Marshall amps on either side of the stage elevates their set. It also helps that the music sounds so great live: they beef up an already very beefy (boeufy?) album with killer live versions, milking all the breakdowns and drum crescendos whenever possible - it's not subtle, but it's totally effective. 

Even with the July rain coming down through the set, umbrellas joining all the phones (and hands) in the air, there was still a total party vibe bouncing off the elegant 18th century walls. D.A.N.C.E., DVNO, Waters Of Nazareth etc all sounded great, with the trademark Justice bit-crunched production powered by body-shaking bass. Biggest moment of the night was reserved for the unstoppable We Are Your Friends, a great version that started off a cappella and seemed to go on for about half an hour before they finally let the rest of the tune drop, while a helicopter hovered overhead ("Sarge, we're just going to see what that, erm, disturbance is over by the Strand tonight... no, nothing to report, but we're going to, erm, just stick around for a bit just in case... Roger, over.")

Catch them if you can.

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#chimp71

12th Jul 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Futureheads

This Is Not The World

Nul Records

After a change of label and new producer in the form of Killing Joke's Youth, Sunderland's angular favourites The Futureheads are back with a third record on their own Nul Records.

The problem with the immediate sound and energy that bands like The Futureheads and Maximo Park made thier name on, is that by it's very nature it just can't last. There comes a point where they need to move forward and the options available to them aren't that huge. While the Arctic Monkeys made the jump using clever lyrics, a wide musical style and their own original ideas, The Futureheads have gone the other route and tried to embellish their existing style, making it bigger and grander. It's a less than successful jump, as their music just isn't suited to the stadium rock of Coldplay or Muse. This Is Not The World has pretty much one style and once the minor 'intro' of The Beginning Of The Twist has passed it's all the same tempo, all fast-starters. With the exception of See What You Want (2mins 42) they even stick around the 3 and half minute mark. Hard To Bear is probably the only track to try and stray from the pattern, but apart from the temporary change in pace it offers little of note.

This template was so well laid our by the Jam that there's always been little room for improvement. The Futureheads got their breakthrough with their cover of Kate Bush's Hounds of Love and three albums in they still haven't come close to that songs originality.

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22nd May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

O Fracas

Fits & Starts

I Can Count Records

The words 'angular' and 'spiky' are too often touted around when describing British indie music these days and they'll be dragged out yet again when referring to this Leeds four piece and their debut album Fits & Starts. Their name refers to the creative environment under which these songs were written and recorded. "Fracas is a reference to writing songs under blazing arguments, the act of creation through force, like a Super Collider," states the band - and having gone through three different bass players during the three years this album took to make this statement doesn't seem to be a word of a lie. The album is the sum parts of three sessions recorded with each of these different line-ups which does explain the varied sounds experienced during its thirty five minutes.

Along with angular guitars, quintessentially English vocals are also an element often found on todays indie scene and this band have it all. But despite that, O Fracas dish out an exciting blend of furious arrangements, intelligent lyrics and sometimes some nice lounge piano ditties. Influences ranging from afro-beat, jazz, folk and DC Hardcore drift in and out with a wide variety of instruments providing for an eclectic listen. They seem to have two gears though, fast and slow, and rarely explore anything in between or at least these two gears in the same song. Songs like Sixteen Beats or You Can Hear The World From Menwith Hill, with their grass-roots folky humility, work far better than the more generic, guitar driven moments like What Jim Hears or Zeros And Ones. These give the album its pace and ferocity but also drag it into musical obscurity by pumping out a sound that is all too common.

O Fracas exhibit some artful ideas on this debut and the album definately gets more interesting as it progresses and as they inject their own turbulent personality into the music rather than following the well trodden indie path. Unfortunately this path shows no sign of ending or taking a turn as band after band in this country pass around the same sound and style between them, all under the guise of originality.

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#BC

15th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

These New Puritans

Pyramid Beat

Angular

Jesus H Corbett! Being one of the older Chimps I sometimes despair at the youth of today - you know, frittering their boundless energy away by looking sullen and playing shitwad music out of inadequate speaker phones. Makes me wonder why anyone bothered making decent music for the last 50 years if no-one under the age of 20 can be arsed to put in a bit of research and hard work themselves. Hurrah! Step forward These New Puritans, whose first full-length album blew me out of my own (very) late teenage gloom. Thank fuck.

At last someone seems to have got it - drawing equally from genuine underground dance music, noise rock, B-boy darkness and the very best of post-punk, this album crackles with a kind of confidence which belies the band's tender years. The chunkiest tracks come up front, stamping a large footprint of intent all over your thoughtbox. The influences are all good ones - Gang of Four, Wire, Industrial, The Fall, Dark Hip Hop, Underground Electro - and if that all seems a bit to contrived then I'm not doing them any justice, because this to me is the greatest testament to a well-spent youth.... ie, years spent listening to and absorbing brilliant records, no matter who made those records or what everyone else was listening to, then getting off yer arse/face and making something that lives up to your own high standards. Brilliant.

Of course some bits are better than others, but it is all good. Great lyrics too, and lots of thought gone into the use of samplers and sounds. Anyway, next time someone tries to play you any records by "the streets" take the following steps. One, tell them to fuck off. Two, if they have not complied with your request, play them this record.

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#HarrisPilton

25th Jan 2008 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Violets

The Lost Pages

Angular

New Cross four-piece The Violets have been described as having a talent for ‘Hunky Dory-esque Classic song writing’. When will they learn that racking up a new band’s tentative efforts with some of the greatest achievements of musical genius is a big height to fall from? I am happy to report that Lost Pages is 35 minutes of tightly knit and tautly paced, good music.  However, the fact that the last track is entitled Nature of Obsession will come as no surprise once you’ve had a listen. I’m not so sure about 'Hunky Dory,’ but Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cult, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and The Sisters of Mercy are all present in a shameless display of fusion-pastiche. Try listening to In the Temple of Love by the Sisters of Mercy after the Violet’s Foreo and you’ll see what I’m getting at.

I like this album; I liked the spiky persistence, the overlaid vocals and synthesizer aggression.  A lot of work has clearly gone into giving the sound a convincing breadth and ensuring that each track hurries you along enthusiastically in a Goth-dyed angst of ‘Seeping rituals’, torch-lit ‘Circle[s] of red’ and Siouxsie wails .  The one thing I couldn’t run away from is that the reason it sounded good, was that it had all sounded even better the first time round.

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#LG

30th Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Jon Spencer Blues Explosion

Jukebox Explosion (Rocking? Mid-90s Punkers!)

If you're going to call your band the Blues Explosion, you'd better be sure about at least two things. Firstly, that your music sounds like the detonation of a rockabilly cluster-bomb, and secondly that a sizeable chunk of the record buying public will be put-off by the word "blues" in your band name. Here in the UK "the blues" has more than a whiff of embarrassing uncle about it - a hark back to the old days rather than looking forward to the new ones.

But then, running a blues band, or any band which declares retro intentions, must be tough - it's hard to be cool without being cod. Well, JSBX managed to sidestep that by taking the punk (or post-punk) ethos and applying it to the music of 50's rebel rockers. It's a natural fit, and one that you hope ends up being closer in spirit to the original music as a result.  Maybe this is what Gene Vincent would have really sounded like if you'd been there at the time - but I doubt it. It's the kind of sideways look at a beloved music that very few artists get away with (Beefheart, Defunkt) and you can see right away why Beck and the Beastie Boys rate this band so highly.

This is a shit-kicking compilation with a good selection from the raw Shirt Jac to the pop sense of Do You Wanna Get It - taking in the angular funk of Push Some Air and the creeping theramin bass of Jailhouse Blues along the way. If you're unfamiliar with the Blues Explosion, be prepared for a mixture of production values, sonic textures and mangled vocals. If you want a starting place, check out Ghetto Mom and proceed with reckless abandon.

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#HarrisPilton

24th Sep 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Hot Gossip

Angles

Ghost Records

My finger is about 789 miles away from the pulse of what’s the shit and what’s just plain shit, but if Milan’s Hot Gossip aren’t the name on every groover’s lips at the moment, then I don’t want to be anywhere near that pulse, or the stinking corpse it used to work for.

At least that’s what I thought on hearing track 1of their debut album Angles - a straight to it 1 minute riff, with some proper meat behind it and has the balls to call itself ‘Intro’. What an introduction, sadly the rest of the album doesn’t quite live up to this, admittedly high, early promise.  It’s like being told you are going to spend the night with Christina Ricci and then end up with Charlotte Church.  Sure, it’s still going to be fun, with some obvious ups and surprises along the way - but after a while, when the pace slackens, you’ll be thinking about what might have been.

In summary - a nice slice of hardcore pop that lives up to its angular title. Better than a lot of stuff I’ve heard recently and ones to keep an ear out for.

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#chimpovich

7th Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Victorian English Gentlemen's Club

The Victorian English Gentlemen's Club

This is the debut album from the Cardiff based trio and although terms like art-pop or art punk are being banded around (like having met at art school makes this album a sure thing), don't be fooled. I was sceptical at first as they had all the makings of a big disappointment - lots of media hype, quirky name and heavy styling - but after the first listen you start to see that these early signs are very misleading. With Adam Taylor on vocals and guitar, Emma Daman on drums, Louise Mason on bass and all contributing to backing vocals the result is a rich yet stripped down noise that assaults and delights at the same time.

The first highlight comes early on with Stupid As Wood. It's dark rolling guitars tell you that it means business. Adam Taylor's vocals stab at you with erratic energy putting your nerves on full alert. Impossible Sightings Over Shelton could be the Pixies in their heyday while Such A Chore clatters around almost unrecognisably until a gloriously catchy chorus blasts in out of nowhere. A Hundred Years Of This Street is a minor masterpiece, changing pace at an unrelenting rate while Ban The Gin is pure, precocious noise. The finest moment has to be Under The Yews. Just as you've summed them up as angular punk who's power comes from it's simplified, raw sound you get this multi layered, slow burning ground assault that confidently creeps up and kicks your arse.

The great thing here is that, while very conscious of their roots and not ashamed to show their influences, this trio seems to bash around like they aren't even aware of a music scene and this honesty is displayed with cocky ease and the result is thrilling.

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13th Sep 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Magic Numbers

The Magic Numbers

in a world of skinny tie angular rock, it's a weird state of affairs when people singing nice songs with some cute harmonies seems like a "fresh new sound". but that's basically what seems to have happened with the magic numbers. mind you, it's catchy stuff, and you can imagine wanting to listen to this more in years to come than most of the other stuff that's around at the moment. personally i think it sounds a lot like martin stephenson and the daintees, but no-one remembers them, so hey! it is a fresh new sound. going to give it a 4 because it has on the whole lived up to most of the hype, with a proviso to maybe downgrade it in a year or so if we're not actually listening to it anymore...

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#chimp71

16th Jun 2005 - Add Comment - Tweet