Chimpomatic

Yeasayer

Odd Blood

Mute

I diligently prepared for this review of Yeasayer's new album 'Odd Blood' by re-listening to their debut 'All Hour Cymbals'. The Chimp in charge assigned that disc a mediocre 2.5 stars. Unfair I think, since it struck me as an upbeat collection of songs - melody driven, varied and full of eclectic, instrumental experimentation... otherwise described as ‘World Music’ overtones. The last three tracks in that album are particularly strong and Chimpomatic signed off the review with; 'It's hard to say where this band will take their sound next but they will be worth keeping an eye on.'

So it was with some anticipation and an ear-full of growing acclaim that I clicked 'Play' on 'Odd Blood''. 5 tracks later, however, I found myself nodding in agreement to the lyrics of 'O.N.E.'; 'You don't move me anymore... I can't take it anymore'. What the hell happened?

Where 'All Hour Cymbals’ was rich in sound, layering a broad range of instruments and vocal harmonies to create songs that had real originality, 'Odd Blood' has gone through the looking glass into a strange world of bland electro-pop.

The first three tracks passed by entirely unremarkably until I sat up with a jolt during 'I Fear', convinced that Dave Gahan had suddenly joined the band. It's a 'Stars in their eyes' moment as the vocal impersonation of Depeche Mode's lead singer comes amplified by the tune's looping synthesizer/ electronica clamour.

For a band that can be so musically inventive the numbing dullness of the lyrics on 'Odd Blood' provide even greater consternation. 'Don't give up one me I won't give up on you'... 'Control me like you used to... I like it when you lose control', stand out as particularly inane. Yeasayer, however, clearly don’t agree and make endless repetitions of said self-lobotomising lyrics, integral elements of their songs.

By track 7, 'Rome', the Depeche Mode influence cedes way to the Scissor Sisters. With a chorus of testicle crunching altos; 'It's just a matter of time/ There's no mistaking that!' the album lurches on towards electro-mash-up oblivion. There is some relief in the closing track where some of the old lyricism returns but it’s too little too late.

Thank god for bands that won't be pinned down and Yeasayer's energy is undeniable and laudable. There's no reason that 'Odd blood' should echo the character of their debut album but having seen where this band has taken its sound next I'm not sure I'll be keeping an eye on them after all.

#Music
#LG

3rd Feb 2010 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

82 Almost Best-of-the-decade albums

Various

The 00s have certainly been a turbulent decade for the music industry, from the rise and fall of Napster, through the MP3 and iPod revolution and on to the reality TV dominated close of the decade.

Drum and bass infiltrated pop music so throughly that it's now just part of the furniture, while Hip Hop blew up to dominate the US charts, nabbing a guest spot on dozens of chart toppers.

Filtering through the hundreds of albums released in the decade is no mean feat, so we've kept our final list strictly democratic - with the top 10 derived from those albums most nominated by our reviewers.

Read the top 10 here - but if that's not enough, here's a lazy, sprawling list of 82 others that come very highly recommended, in no particular order:

Interpol - Turn on the Bright Lights
Killer track: PDA. More New York cool, a 'go-to' album for so many occasions
TV On The Radio - Dear Science
Pearl Jam - Riot Act
Doves - Kingdom Of Rust
At the Drive In - Relationship of Command
Killer Track: Enfilade. A welcome dose of anger after the fallow years of the late 90s. Added bonus that it was released on the soon to be bust Grand Royal label.
Justice - D.A.N.C.E.
Santogold - Santogold
Smog - Dongs Of Sevotion
Cornelius - Point
Devendra Banhart - Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon
Mugison - Lonely Mountain
Midlake - The Trials Of Van Occupanther
Electralane - The Power Out
Radiohead - Amnesiac
Beth  Gibbons & Rustin' Man - Out Of Season
PJ Harvey - Stories From The City
Caribou - The Milk Of Human Kindness
Pearl Jam - Bearoya Hall
Unusual in that it's a live album, this double acoustic set pulls together all that's great about the much-maligned grungers. Spine tingling.
Fugazi - The Argument
Not their best, but still one of the best
Low - The Great Destroyer
Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend
Iron & Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days
Killer track: Passing Afternoon. We live in noisy times, everyone should have an album like this to retreat to now and again
Bruce Springsteen - The Rising
The only artist capable of an appropriate 9/11 album.
Blond Redhead - 23
Grandaddy - Software Slump
John Frusciante - Shadows Collide With People
The Early Years  - Early Years
Frightened Rabbit - The Midnight Organ Fight
Killer track: Fast Blood. One of those albums that just clicks straight away, some brutally honest songs but never a hard listen
The National - Alligator
Jay-Z - The Blueprint
Despite his fame, his only album that's solid throughout.
The Shins - Wincing The Night Away
Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake It's Morning
Portishead - Third
Spoon - Girls Can Tell
Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga
Spoon - Kill The Moonlight
Spoon - Gimme Fiction
Yes, we like Spoon.
Stephen Malkmus - Pig Lib
Elbow - Leaders Of The Free World
CJ: Their strongest album from a solid bunch of releases.
Kings Of Leon - Because Of The Times
7 minute opener followed by track after track.
Electrelane - No Shouts, No Calls
Johanna Newsom - Y's
Band Of Horses - Cease To Begin
Radiohead - Hail To The Thief
Buck 65 - Talking Honky Blues
Common - Like Water For Chocolate
Silver Jews - Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea
David Berman finally made sense.
Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion
Guided By Voices - Human Amusement at Hourly Rates
Finally a solid album from GBV. One of the best best ofs going - up there with Neil Young's Decade.
Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago
The Good The Bad And The Queen - The Good The Bad And The Queen
Another surprising side-project from Damon Albarn
TV On The Radio - Return To Cookie Mountain
Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid
Red Hot Chilli Peppers - By The Way
Titus Andronicus - The Airing Of Grievances
No Age - Nouns
Jay-Z - The Black Album
The Wedding Present - Take Fountain
An awesome return for the Indie legends, embracing a move to the US for Uncle Gedge
Kanye West - College Dropout
John Frusciante - To Record Only Water For 10 Days
Paving the way for Frusciante's magnificent return to form.
The Cave Singers - Welcome Joy
Low - The Great Destroyer
Catfish Haven - Devastator
The Strokes - First Impressions Of Earth
The Invisible - The Invisible
Lightning Dust - Infinite Light
The Decemberists - Picaresque
The Coral - Magic And Medicine
Killer track: Liezah. Some strictly Liverpool uncool. A Coral album is a comforting thing.
Beirut - The Flying Club Cup
Radiohead - Kid A
Cannibal Ox - The Cold Vein
DJ Shadow - The Private Press
Great at home or on the dance floor.
Flight of the Conchords - Flight of the Conchords
It shouldn't work, but it does. Comedy genius.
Interpol - Antics
Take you on a cruise. Awesome
The Walkmen - You & Me
Killer track: In the New Year. Band of the decade for Chimpovich.
Arcade Fire - Funeral
Why? - Alopicia
Weird indie hip-hop that just works.
Ladyhawk - Shots
My Morning Jacket - It Still Moves
White Denim - Workout Holiday
Killer track: Lets Talk About It. Chaotic, energetic, sounds like a good time was had making it.

#Music
#Chimpomatic

31st Dec 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Best Of 2009

CSF

As a quick precursor to the Best of the 00s list I'm currently editing, here's my Top 5 albums of 2009.

Not a stellar year compared to 2007 or 2008, but there's certainly been a few stand outs.

John Frusciante - The Empyrean
He didn't tell us he'd left the Chili Peppers, but Frusciante's latest solo album certainly upped the anti on 2004's marathon of low-key releases, blending epic guitars, a stellar guest list and a near-perfect cover of Tim Buckley's Song To The Siren.

Pink Mountaintops - Outside Love
The Black Mountain side-project took it's own place in the spot light, with a solid album - made twice as good by the outstanding supporting tour.

Lightning Dust - Infinite Light
Amber Webber was missed on the aforementioned Pink Mountaintops tour, but luckily that's because she was polishing up her own project. Taking the promise of their debut, Lightning Dust moved forward with grand strides on this haunting ethereal masterpiece.

Wilco - Wilco (The Album)
The old favourites pulled virtually no surprises out with this one, just another handful of great rock songs with mind-blowing musicianship - and again backed it all up with one of the gigs of the year.

Flight of the Conchords - I Told You I Was Freaky
One great album seemed like a fluke, but the soundtrack to season two expanded the comedy duos surprising knack for blending piss-take and homage in an accomplished way, laced with fits and giggles. I'm in love with a sexy lady, with an eye that's lazy.

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#CSF

30th Dec 2009 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Avatar

(dir. James Cameron)

Yes, they do look like overgrown smurfs running around some Ferngully-like forest that's been designed by Roger Dean in the style of a giant 3D Yes cover - but so what?! This is  an amazing film experience - and one that looks loads better than in does in the trailers (for once).

The story's pretty generic once you break it down - basically a Dances With Blue Wolves eco-friendly adventure in which our ex-marine hero Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) ends up thinking that the natives he encounters on Pandora, the alien planet he's been sent to, might have a better way of thinking about the world. You know, be nice to the planet, and it'll be nice to you maaaan. His job is to try to encourage them to leave their home so the nasty human corporation he works for can start mining the huge deposits of "unobtainium" - and if they don't vacate pronto, the military hardware is going to kick in ASAP and BLOW SHIT UP!

But don't worry about all that - it's just an excuse to let you wander around the world's biggest 3D landscape, amazingly rendered, detailed and immersive - it's the film that this new wave of 3D tech has been waiting for. At times it feels like the start of a whole new wave of game/film hybrids, like you can see where they're going to go with it all once they figure out how to let you play this film. For now though, it's a great ride - would totally recommend the full-on 3D IMAX combo.

The interaction between Sully (a wheelchair user) and his avatar is all pretty interesting, mirrored with the chunky military exo-skeletons and the way the Na'vi communicate with their animals - by plugging their tails in! Sigourney Weaver - the only Cameron vet on this mission - is her usual credible self, even if we've seen her do the hardass to perfection before. It's long, but you can imagine wanting to spend another few hours in this Pandora's box. The plot's generic, but the experience isn't - 4****

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16th Dec 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Toutpartout 15 years: Monotonix & Scout Niblett

Scala, London

So this guy comes up to me, looking a bit Adolf. I think actually he's into this new fangled style of short back and sides, 1940's military hair and moustache combo. "You might wanna loose your backpack" He tells me, looking all official and self satisfied. "How many times have you shot them before?" he enquires. Oh God, does he want to check if he has more tattoos than me, more piercings than me too?, "None, I reply" Oh well, you'll need to move around with the action he kindly informs me.

Glancing around, I don't see many contenders for the "action" yet. The place isn't so full and people are keeping quite far back from the dancefloor. A bit all look and don't touch. Perhaps they've heard about the "action" and they don't want to get too close.

Monotonix are very hairy. They look like the 118 men. They come from Israel. I wonder if they know about the 118 men in Israel? I wonder if they would still continue to dress in ill fitting garish 70's sportswear if they did. They are also a bit Borat too. Being a zany halfwit comedian is one thing. Aping one is another. By contrast, their fans - or the people in the audience at least. Are not hairy at all. None of this ironic or otherwise post Darkness post 70's glam rock tongue in cheek tomfoolery. The punters who stand around stroking their chins, looking for a way to intellectually justify this side-show of 3 beer stained over 40 hairies, are the bald, shaven, bearded, post hardcore brigade in work pants and chords probably bought from some overpriced skate shop in Covent Garden.

Beginning their merriment with a drum kit in the area normally reserved for the audience who don't want to get too close to the barrier. This musical incarnation of the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers launch into a dirge of sub garage punk fuzz riffage and mildly insane accompanying antics, that generally revolve around, steal beer, spill beer on fellow band member, roll on the floor, jump on the drumkit, repeat. On one hand, I wonder why they are doing. I for one, am not entertained. This is just mindless thug-Abba theatrics. On the other hand, I ask are they challenging my idea about what musical entertainment should be. But an arthouse take on The Darkness meets the Fall just doesn't work. Or does it? Monotonix must have some kind of game-plan, but it washed over me.

Pretty much polar opposite is singer-songwriter Scout Niblett. Eschewing everything you imagined about this nouveau lo-fi anti-folk or whatever they call it these days, she is quiet, then a bit louder, a bit hippy and a bit drippy, a bit art-school lo-fi I'm-not-really-trying-but-secretly-I-am-doing-my-best-ok. Whereas with Mantronix you got the "action". Scout Niblett plays rooted to the spot to a 3 rows full of wide hipped corduroy-clad seated student girls, eager to get shots with the point and shoot cameras in dreamy anticipation of updating their wimins blog through their iPhone.

With flagrant disregard to anything else, especially getting on stage at the designated time, Ms Niblett's lo-fi riffs form a lulling bed on which she overlays her key weapon. The kind of riffage one may go over again and again after 1st learning a few hooks on your big brothers guitar, Niblett's multi-dimensional voice lulls, mesmerises and draws in the listener so that everything else draws into insignificance. Different enough to be original and etched with a few, "she's lived" grooves, Scout Niblett combines a stripped-down and unplugged Nirvana sound with an ernest and original vocal to produce odd-ball songs about Dinosaur Eggs and other such delights and frippery that would keep a kookie young art school rebel happy. Before she plays, Scout places an array of lyric sheets on the floor and has a brief moment of fear and belief. She might have one too many ideas, but they're working as one.

#Music
#Gig
#ADP

3rd Dec 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Body of Lies

Tony Scott-esque spy antics from Ridley Scott.

#JustWatched
#Film
#CSF

3rd Dec 2009

Kurt Vile

Childish Prodigy

Matador

Oh boy did I need Kurt Vile in my life. This second album couldn't have landed at a better time. With the beleaguered lo-fi scene experiencing something of a wind-down, Childish Prodigy stands proud as a more muscular sound but one that still maintains the ethos of the DIY scene. You couldn't really call this lo-fi with production as tight as this but there is a trail of fuzz that follows Vile's every word throughout the record. It's ragged and loose in its construction but is full of new ideas and blows a fresh and welcome breeze through this scene.

Growing up just outside of Philidelphia, Vile's love for music stemmed from his bluegrass aficionado father who also gifted him with a banjo at the age of fourteen. From this grew an absorption of everything musical which started to manifest itself in the form of a series of lo-fi bedroom recordings that incorporated everything from delta blues and skiffle to the minimalist aggression of bands like Suicide. With a number of releases on various labels Vile's free-flow style and signature languid drawl started to win him quite an underground following. Childish Prodigy is Vile's second album but first for Matador and while it retains much of the magic that pricked up ears years ago it is a much more diverse concoction of scuzz-rock and psychedelic folk and is enhanced hugely by the production of Philly engineer Jeff Zeigler. His touch turns this lo-fi sound into something deeper and more substantial while still drenching everything in feedback and echo.

The dirty blues-rock of opener Hunchback booms with muscle while the following Dead Alive is a simple construction of delicate guitar and vocals which are drowned in hazy fuzz. Like many of these songs it meanders almost without direction with Vile's casual style emanating as a stream-of-conciousness outpouring. Then you've got the mammoth Freak Train and Inside Looking Out which both stretch to around the seven minute mark. Freak Train assumes a brisk Krautrock pace and keeps with it until the fade-out. It's like taking the turning onto the M6 Toll and seeing only open road in front of you. Like the Toll it's long, open and you really don't mind paying for it. While Inside Looking Out is slow and aimless and plods on relentlessly. It's cavernous and dirty, it's claustrophobic and overflowing with effects with Vile hitting the red-line with his shrieked vocals. Then in total contrast you get the following track Unknown which shines in its simplicity. It's just Vile and an acoustic guitar and a bucket load of reverb. It recalls early U2 in the way it paints vivid sonic landscapes with the fewest of brushstrokes. The music undulates on waves of guitar for four and a half minutes of pure bliss. And it's in this contrast that the beauty of this record resides. You can get a whiff of John Lennon then be seduced by the intimacy of Springsteen's Nebraska-like minimalism. It demands patience from the listener though but this patience will be rewarded. His effortless style puts up a mask of simplicity but get this on some headphones and this apparent simplicity reveals untold depths and the songs just stretch out in front of you.

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#BC

20th Oct 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Themselves

CrownsDown

Anticon

Seven months ago the FREEhoudini tape heralded the return of this now legendary partnership between two of Anticon's biggest players. Now after all this time Dose One and Jel return with their third proper album under Themselves. Much water has passed under the bridge since the last record. We've had bands like cLOUDDEAD further the abstract tendencies of Dose and we've seen Subtle rise from yet another side project for these two to become a real powerhouse band, not to mention their work with The Notwist in 13 & God. The result is CrownsDown a comeback record of epic proportions that incorporates all the skills picked up by these other formations and one that sounds a million miles from 2002's mesmerizing The No Music.

The recent Eskimo Snow record from Yoni Wolf has seen Why? take a giant leap away from any kind of hip-hop associations and in contrast CrownsDown is Dose and Jel's total emersion in the genre. This is a hip-hop record through and through. It's ten tracks serve as the Commandments of rap and encompass the archetypal themes that unite bands such as Gang Star, Public Enemy and Ultramagnetic MC's. You've got the 'guess who's back' jam of opener Back II Burn, the 'diss rap' of Oversleeping and the 'don't copy my style' cut of The Mark, and this is all in the first three songs. Nothing that is spat from the dexterous lips of Dose comes without its fair share of irony and while the tongue seems firmly in cheek during some of these moments of rap stereotype it sure is bizarre to witness. If irony goes on too long at what point does it start becoming genuine intention? The 'don't fuck with my DJ' jam seems to embody this totally. Skinning The Drum sees Jel flexing his DJ muscle by cutting up the Apache and Cold Sweat breaks back and forth as Dose references Ice Cube with the line "hey Jel, make it ruff."

Over many years of following every twist and turn from these two I have often wondered what would happen if they gave in to hip-hop, well this is my answer and while I find it quite strange it is undoubtedly one of the most impressive rap albums I've heard in a while. Dose's flow has evolved throughout his work with Subtle to a booming growl. His high pitched rapid-fire has morphed into something way more threatening and muscular. The speed is increased and the rhymes are lightning. Jel's beats come with equal ferocity and velocity. The No Music and their work with Deep Puddle Dynamics was all about intricate layering of effects and vocals, haze and fuzz would accompany any lyric to create a murky sonic composition out of which would emerge dazzling moments of crisp punctuation. This has a totally different agenda. The layers are still there but the fuzz has subsided leaving more fully formed raps and deep, pounding beats punched directly to your chest.

This isn't the case for every song and these battle raps mostly sum up the first half with the second retreating into the more delicate territory we are used to. Daxstrong is the 'spread-love' song which pays tribute to the Subtle founder Dax Pierson who was paralyzed in a tour accident in 2005. Dax also sings an auto-tune verse on the following You Ain't It which acts as direct contrast to Dose's jagged speed delivery and Jel's apocalyptic drum beats.

CrownsDown is both a toppling of false hip-hop idols that may have risen in their absence and also a humble tip of the crown to acts that have paved the way for both these two artists. Having pushed the envelope to such an extent on your first few releases the only way to go is this I guess. The 'don't copy my style' sentiment that runs through a few of these tracks seems slightly unnecessary as since they first emerged there has been little hip-hop around that could possibly be accused of being capable of this. I find that the more Subtle emerge from the underground, the less they hold my interest and with the first few listens of CrownsDown I feared the same may be said for this long awaited comeback. There are moments here that stand out as being uncharacteristically obvious but as a whole it is a dense piece of work that sets the heart racing with very characteristic excitement. In its obviousness it asks more questions than it answers, and we'd expect nothing less from a Themselves album. CrownsDown is a long-awaited comeback and one that drops with curious yet impressive magnitude.

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#HHG

19th Oct 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

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

Why?

Eskimo Snow

Anticon

Without sounding like the indie-rock equivalent of Adrian Mole, Yoni Wolf's writing is certainly getting darker. The self loathing, acute honesty and constant suicide mentions that made up Alopecia were buoyed by a dry wit that made you think that he was well aware of his failings but had them under control. Eskimo Snow was written at the same time as Alopecia and the difference here is the almost complete absence of the wit which works to expose the self-loathing in all its miserable glory. But it's glorious nonetheless and further goes to highlight Yoni Wolf as one of the best writers of our time.

We were warned in recent interviews by Wolf that Eskimo Snow would be the least hip-hop of all work as Why?. I found Alopecia tough to appreciate in its early days for this very reason and while these new songs make the transformation from odd-ball hip-hop to odd-ball indie-pop totally complete the jump doesn't seem as cavernous due to its predecessor and so my appreciation of this is more instant. I don't know of an artist to have made such a successful jump and while Eskimo Snow seems like the end of something that Alopecia started it signals a bright future for this gloomy chap. It's now possible to use the word 'gloomy' with the comfort and satisfaction you might when talking about a Morrissey record. This is a 'bare-bones' album, the most stark and revealing of all their work. The confessions of insecurity and discomfort aren't masked in clever rhetoric but laid out in sometimes crude honesty. It's like he's done with talking around the subject of his own patheticness and this album is the coming-to-a-head of many factors. After this things may be different, but for now this shit just has to be said.

This pinnacle aspect of the record can be seen in all its glory on Into The Shadows Of My Embrace. Opening with the confession, "Now the world is my good confessional monkey / But it'll take a bus load of high-school soccer girls to wash those hospitals off me," he then changes up the pedestrian tempo and launches into a relentless, pounding list of confessions. As he gabbles this list his honesty is barely containable and strains to keep up with the musical tempo that dictates. After all this comes the shrieked line; "Saying all this in public should make me feel funny, but you gotta yell something you should never tell nobody." It marks the loudest his voice has ever got and heralds in a new dawn of heavy, swirling guitars.

The lyrical honesty is not the only factor that makes Eskimo Snow so stark. The song structure is so different from Alopecia that it's hard to imagine them being conceived in the same sessions. Many of these songs make no apologies for going nowhere. They either build to nothing or don't build at all. They stare you square in the face declaring, what you see is what you get. Opener These Hands should be a closing lament rather than the chosen one to welcome us all to this record. It shuffles by almost unnoticed in its misery than fades from view leaving awkward silence. And the innuendo filled Even The Good Wood Gone spends its entirety promising a crescendo, but gives up. But in anyone else's hands this would smack as a bunch of semi-thought out sketches that shouldn't have seen the light of day. Under these guys it becomes a startlingly refreshing and intricately perceived album. In its barren focus they have coaxed some of the most beautiful songs in their repertoire. One Rose and Berkley By Horseback twinkle with fragility with their shimmering piano and Wolf's clear-as-day nasal delivery.

This is a worthy answer to the staggering Alopecia and even though it may appear to be the first full step along the indie-pop road, its unbridled creativity poses more questions about the future direction of this band than answers. It may not have the shining peaks of Alopecia, it is more of a blanket soaking, but its depth is unfathomable at this early stage. The Anticon hip-hop spirit lives strong in this record so I leave you with Wolf's mission statement on the penultimate gem, This Blackest Purse. "I want to speak at an intimate decibel, with the precision of an infinite decimal / To listen up and send back a true echo, of something forever felt but never heard / I want that sharpened steel of truth in every word." Not that he's ever done anything else, if this is the only hint at where we may find this band next, I for one am all ears.

#Music
#HHG

9th Oct 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Pixies

Brixton Academy, London

First a confession - this is the first time in my life I have ever seen the Pixies, and since I've been going to gigs for (oh dear) 30 years, I've missed many a golden opportunity, and the Pixies always figured high on the list of "ones I shoulda seen". Suddenly the opportunity miraculously arises as the Pixies undertake a tour to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the stone classic Doolittle album. I say stone classic since I don't think I'll hear many arguments to the contrary - an album packed with great pop songs, ferocious guitars, great lyrics and brilliant vocals (plus it's on a British label). With the band playing Doolittle in full tonight, I had a slight concern that I might be seeing something that reeked only of nostalgia and might be best left alone, but in the weeks coming up to the show I've found it hard to suppress my optimism - just really hoping that these worthy veterans would deliver the goods.

Of course, they DID deliver the goods. The Pixies are a band - and by that I mean they are a genuine example of the sum adding up to more than it's (considerable) parts. They play like a band, with that wonderful sense that they are all at home where they belong when they are doing this. This was the first of three nights in Brixton - a venue the Pixies have a long history with - and their name on the dome outside could not have looked more like it was meant to be there. Indoor gig and a crowd who felt like this was their very own special band coming back to see the fans that first embraced them. All of these things meant there was a happy vibe from both band and audience.

Starting up with Dancing The Manta Ray, they warmed themselves up by plundering the b-sides box and treating us to some rare gems - Kim Deal told us that they were playing some of these songs for "maybe the fifth time ever, tonight". Then, after maybe fifteen minutes Kim Deal plays the opening riff to Debaser and the party really starts. God, they sound great. Upstairs in the Academy the sound was pretty good although I'm told it was a bit muddier downstairs, while the visual elements of the show can't be faulted - great lighting and projections, tastefully done. Each track from Doolittle sounds teriffic and the band play them all with deserved enthusiasm. It's kind of surreal - there they are playing Here Comes Your Man and Monkey Gone To Heaven, Tame, Dead, No.13.... right through to Silver which was a bit of a highlight despite it's being the slowest song they played all night, but then to follow that closely with Into The White was a masterstroke. Back for encores (twice) which included more b-sides (UK Surf version of Wave Of Mutilation) and classics (U-Mass) and ending with Gigantic - the word best used to describe the smile on Deal's face the whole night.

I was not disappointed.

#Music
#Gig
#HarrisPilton

7th Oct 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Y: The Last Man

Brian K Vaughan, Pia Guerra

Vertigo

One man and his monkey, alone in a world full of women? Ever get the feeling that some projects are written just for you? 

Brian K Vaughn was one of the hired guns brought onto the Lost writers team and he brings a similar deft touch to his own work (check out Hurley reading the Spanish language version "Y, El Último Hombre" here). Ex-Machina is a great combo of city politics and superhero antics, while Pride Of Baghdad turned that corny Disney shtick about animals banding together for an impossible journey into an elegant anti-Iraq War statement.

Here, Y: The Last Man is a thoughtful and playfully entertaining sci-fi series that follows hero Yorick Brown over the course of ten graphic novels as he tries find out why he's the only man left alive after an overnight plague kills off all the other men and leaves him trapped on a planet of the babes (ahem).

It's one of those simple set-ups that doesn't disappoint. Our hero ends up being protected by secret agents and fighting ninjas on a globe-trotting odyssey as he searches the planet for his girlfriend (never let a gendercide get in the way of being hung up on one girl). A film version has been in the offing for a while, with Disturbia director DJ Caruso and Transformers dude Shia LeBeouf attached (and not attached, and attached again), but it's great in the comic format (and all ten have been out since last year, with some beefy deluxe reissues coming through now), so why not just read the original?

#chimp71

30th Sep 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Pearl Jam

Backspacer

Monkeywrench

With their 9th studio album, Pearl Jam have fully completed their transformation from over-looked geniuses to the band that everybody thinks they have been since Ten first stormed the charts in 1991. As a lifelong Pearl Jam fan, for some reason I had a pre-conceived notion of how this album would be. The hints were there from the last album and a live outing for some if the new material did not bode well. I can't tell you how disappointed it is to have my preconceptions at least partly confirmed.

Advance tracks Get Some and The Fixer certainly have hooks and catches, giving a certain radio-friendliness to them, much like any recent album from AC/DC or even The Rolling Stones - rather than the difficult-to-fit, anti-mainstream style that hung around grunge, making it so fresh and new in the early 90's. 

Eddie Vedder injects the occasional attempt at enthusiasm with a whoop or a holler, while awkward drum fills patch the holes in the songwriting as the band try and add some urgency to the mundanity to most of the songs. Whether it was real or implied, much of Pearl Jam's attraction has long been built around the message, or implied narrative behind the lyrics. Here those messages are barely audible, instead opting for the gabba-gabba-hey enthusiam of bands like the Ramones - while Vedder's song writing and love-it-or-hate-it vocals are sadly underused.

There's an air of preparation here, as if song-writing duties have been distributed evenly amongst the rest of the band for some post-career nest building. I haven't seen the liner notes, but would suggest the faux Thin Lizzy of Johnny Guitar came from the pen of Mike McReady (update: wrong, it was Cameron & Gossard), while the Camero-driving pound of Get Some might be from bouncing bassist Jeff Ament (update: bingo). 

There are a handful of highlights here, with Just Breathe providing a short break from the non-stop pace of the album's opening, although at best it sounds like an outtake from Vedder's excellent stripped-bare solo album. Unknown Thought and The End approach the band's full potential (both penned by Vedder), while Amongst The Waves manages to shake off its cheesy start to build into a decent epic.

This isn't a terrible album by any means - and judging by some surprisingly positive mainstream reviews I would suggest everything I like about the band is what turned the masses away. There are moments of promise amongst the riffs, but Backspacer's biggest curse is that it is just largely forgettable. 

#Music
#CSF

29th Sep 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Yo La Tengo

Popular Songs

Matador

It was always going to be a hard act to follow. The title of Yo La Tengo’s 2006 LP, I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass, sits at the pinnacle of my exhaustively researched; top-ten-album-titles-in-history-EVER-super-chart.

I.A.N.A.O.Y.A.I.W.B.Y.A was also noteworthy given that Yo La Tengo’s sound might best have been associated with a kind of low-key, shoe gazing dreaminess. They were certainly not obvious candidates for the brilliant wall of aggressive guitar which opens that album, under the moniker ‘Pass the Hatchet’.

The reason I’m banging on about I.A.N.A.O.Y.A.I.W.B.Y.A is not just because the New Jersey 3 piece's new release clearly doesn’t make the cut for my chart. It's also that the album is not as good as its predecessor, period.

But that’s as far as the criticism goes. The album title may indeed redeem itself after all in terms of accuracy; much of the music here deserves to be popular. The songs are good, by turns romantic and melancholy but generally minus the rocking teenage swagger of 2006.

There are exceptions, Nothing To Hide, and the album’s closing track (a 15 minute guitar jam) And The Glitter Is Gone, dish out plenty of energy and angry chords. For the most part, however, the band act their age (this is their 12th studio album). On stand-out tracks When it’s Dark and More Stars Than There Are In Heaven, they stick to reflective and wistful; plenty of harmonies, strings, organ and gentle acoustic guitars.

Whereas I.A.N.A.O.Y.A.I.W.B.Y.A was bookended by the band’s trademark long playing epics, Popular Songs saves both until last; And The Glitter Is Gone preceded by, The Fireside. The latter track may remind you a little too much of the busker in the high street you’ll have heard, riffing chords and peddling the reverb on his slide guitar. Regardless, this is a haunting instrumental clocking in at over 11mins and entrancing for every one of those.

#Music
#LG

7th Sep 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Adulthood

More confused yoof antics from Noel Clark.

#JustWatched
#Film
#CSF

6th Sep 2009

Monotonix

Where Were You When It Happened?

Drag City

Sometime last year I went to see Silver Jews play in the intimate surroundings of London's ULU. On entering I couldn't help but notice the crowd congregating avidly round some sort of commotion occurring in the middle of the venue. The stage was clear so it couldn't be the band, but what was the source of the deafening noise that was pounding through my very soul? In order to get a better view I took up position on the balcony and to my surprise I saw, at the very heart of this scene, three sweaty, bare chested beasts who were masquerading as humans. The drummer pounded a very scant looking drum kit to death while the guy making most of the noise shrieked so violently into his contorted fist you'd think he was about to swallow it. As if that wasn't enough, in a sudden burst of reserved superhuman energy, they picked up the drum kit and ran out of the hall, mid song. While everyone looked around puzzled, they emerged on our balcony still playing the drums and still maintaining the howl. Anyway, to cut a long story short they ended up hanging from the balcony, drums in hand and played out the rest of the song, legs dangling, throat straining and most certainly crowd gawping. It was without a doubt the most exhilarating gig performance but to be honest I couldn't tell you much about the music, this was secondary. But with this, their first full length, the music speaks for itself and is impossible to overlook.

Their 2008 EP Body Language unleashed a short, sharp glimpse of what this band had been doing all round their hometown of Tel Aviv since 2005. Channelling the raw energy of bands like the Stooges but with the muscle of Black Sabbath, their sound was as uncontrollable as an unmanned, gushing fire hose. Where Were You is no different but seems to benefit from slightly denser production. Yonatan Gat's riffs loom large and often chug with meaty forcefulness over Ran Shimoni's erratic drumming. The star of the live experience is clearly front man Ami Shalev and I suppose one difference here is that he manages to fit in quite comfortably around his music and doesn't overpower the brute force that surrounds him. This makes the record gel in a much more coherent way and ultimately packs a better punch.

Things seem to have been considered more here. The rawness dominates every part of this, but not in an uncontrollable way. It has all the unpredictable energy of the live show, but keeps its eyes focused on the plan and churns out some mighty examples of old school rock filth. Set Me Free is the best example of this and is one of the only songs that allows space for the listener - opening with a sparse rhythm that is slowly joined by grinding guitars. The song takes its time and changes pace throughout the duration showing off an element that wasn't part of their earlier repertoire. Of course this is all obliterated on Spit It On Your Face and the musical hose pipe gives over to the spasms once again. Having been banned from most of the venues in Tel Aviv we can only hope that this scuzz dripping rock circus will spend more time on our shores. But this time it wont be just the live antics that dazzle.

#Music
#BC

1st Sep 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Inglourious Basterds

(dir. Quentin Tarantino)

Miramax

After the pasting that Death Proof got here (we even had to get Tech Support to code us up a special Zero Stars graphic) expectations haven't exactly been riding high for Tarantino's Nazi-bashing opus. It's also had one of those long gestation periods that puts you off, with rumours flying around that he's had to cut chunks out/ add loads back in, that it was going to be split in two (again!) or was so long he was going to have to turn it into a TV series (actually, it would be kind of fun if HBO would let him loose some time); the mixed reviews at Cannes certainly didn't seem to bode well either. 

But forget all that. About five minutes into this film, you'll remember what it is you liked about Tarantino in the first place. Yes, he's a total film geek whose only frame of reference seems to be other films - but when he pulls it off, he's more than capable of turning that encyclopedic knowledge into something thrilling. Basterds is exciting, has something to say, has a great cast - and more than anything, it's surprisingly fun.

Here, we've got two main threads running in tandem through five chapters. On the one hand, the Basterds - a kind of Dirtier Dozen, with Brad Pitt leading a commando unit of Jewish avengers on a rampage through second world war Germany, scalping as many Nazis as possible and generally causing total havoc. That's the story that's featured in the early trailers, and again, the prospect of watching a bloodbath for two hours didn't really seem that promising. 

The other thread involves a Jewish woman (a brilliant Mélanie Laurent) who's running a small cinema in the heart of Nazi-occupied Paris. She's living in secret, passing herself off as a gentile, when a German war hero falls for her, and convinces Goebbels and the rest of the Third Reich (including Hitler) that her little cinema would be the perfect venue for the premiere of Nation's Pride, a propaganda film about his real-life war exploits (which he's also starring in)...

Tarantino pulls these two stories together with typical flair, but it's much more subtle than the tricksiness of Pulp Fiction. There's real drive and tension here as the pieces weave together - don't want to go into too much more plot detail here, as half the fun is not knowing how it fits together.

What's also worth noting is that Brad Pitt aside, this is a cast of relative unknowns - you may have seen Diane Kruger in Troy, but don't hold that against her - she's great here as a German movie star. Hostel director Eli Roth plays one of the Basterds, Sgt Dony Donowitz (and he also shot the footage for Nation's Pride). Michael Fassbender (Bobby Sands in Hunger) is the British spy teaming up with the Basterds. Daniel Brühl is the smooth-talking German war hero. Even Mike Myers is hilarious again in a cameo as a British army officer barking out mission instructions. But the real stand-out is Christopher Waltz as the creepy Nazi Col Hans Landa - effortlessly flipping between German, French, English and Italian (in one of the film's most hilarious/tense scenes). He's a character that lingers long after the credits have rolled. And you won't look at a glass of milk in the same way for a while.

It's heavily subtitled, which Tarantino uses to great effect. Unlike a lot of second world war films, he's not afraid to let everyone speak in their own language, which builds a sense of the war taking place across the continent; language becomes something to hide behind, or give people away. Even Pitt's Southern-drawling Lt Aldo Raine could do with some explanation at times - his accent is so hilariously OTT it should come with subtitles... 

For film buffs there's plenty to enjoy - although you may want to brush up on your war films before watching if you want to get all the references here. The title of the first chapter - "Once Upon a Time in Nazi-Occupied France" - sets the tone. This is a fantasy, a film that's not afraid to take history and play fast and loose with it; to talk about cinema's power and potential, and ideas of revenge; and also, for once, to start to examine some of the more gratuitous aspects of the QT violence in the cinema aesthetic (alright, while still giving us some more insanely gratuitous moments). It's also just really enjoyable - much more of a romp than you'd expect.

#Film
#chimp71

18th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Cave Singers

Welcome Joy

Matador

Rising from the ashes of Pretty Girls Make Graves, the Cave Singers have quickly expended beyond the success of that band and carved out a nice niche for themselves. Debut record Invitation Songs was an unknown quantity, bringing a certain mystery and uniqueness that was initially a little difficult to crack. Was it a guy singing? A girl? Marge Simpson? Are they taking the piss? Once those initial questions had settled down a little, the record settled in to become an easy stand-out of 2007.

There's certainly less mystery to this new record, but instead just a welcome anticipation that this is going to be good record. On first listen there's certainly little disappointment, but the initial reaction is 'here's some more Cave Singers' - 10 new tracks that sound like a direct expansion on the first album. Repeated listening quickly dispels that simple notion.

Over the course of opener Summer Light and second song Leap, the album ramps up to a higher tempo than Invitation Songs and it never looks back. The eclectic folky sound of the debut is subtly pulled back, stripping away some of the washboard and the melodica influence and giving way to a more traditional rock sound. That sound is bolstered by the production of Colin Stewart, who returns to man the decks after the debut, plus stints producing favourites including Black Mountain and Ladyhawk.

As the record settles in, the evolution of the band's sound starts to emerge, with them now sounding somewhat more grown into their sound. Songs are belted out with a more self-assured style and what was something of a novelty with the first record is now the definitive sound of an accomplished band. Songs like Townships, At The Cut (mp3 here), Beach House (mp3 here) and VV have an instant familiarity, sounding like old classics that you haven't heard in a while.

Warm, nostalgic, rocking and powerful - this is the ghost of Fleetwood Mac, channeled through the Pacific Northwest with magnificent success.

#Music
#CSF

15th Aug 2009 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Throw Me The Statue

Creaturesque

Secretly Canadian

This is the second album from Seatle's Throw Me The Statue, an outfit that originally began as the one-man project of the multifaceted Scott Reitherman then evolved into the charmingly fresh sound that makes up Creaturesque. Its predecessor Moonbeams pricked up the ears of many a music critic with its ample helping of lo-fi bliss and while Creaturesque retains much of this element it's the production work from Phil Ek (The Shins, Built To Spill, Band Of Horses) that elevates this sound to maximalist indie-pop heights.

The transition to these heights is an interesting one and it's what's left in its trail that make this record intriguing. TMTS can drop in some of the most well formed pop hooks that it sometimes borders on cliche. The glittery glockenspiel that erupts on the hand-clap chorus of opener Waving At The Shore runs dangerously close to the sugary drivel that made the Magic Numbers so hard to swallow. But I think it's the fact that Reitherman has come from such lo-fi roots that this sweetness stays palatable due to an everpresent DIY presence that runs through it. I don't mean DIY in the No Age sense but in the Grandaddy sense I guess. Sub Pop's Chad Vangaalen is probably a better point of reference, with the occasional decrepit synthesiser being employed to churn out a vulnerable drum beat on which is built this impressive structure. But the intriguing thing is the contrast between the times when very little is built on this structure and a song like Tag plays out with its bare bones on full display, leading into its antithesis Ancestors. As the lead single Ancestors is a slice of indie-pop perfection. With an endlessly marketable and surprisingly anthemic guitar riff to base things on this can hardly fail and the way, mid way through the track, it pairs down to a simple acoustic strum as if he's just walked into a different room is magnificent. The drumming on all of these tracks is what really propels them. Cannibal Rays is a perfect example with its infectiously rolling pace providing a bubbling and flowing support for Reitherman's soft vocals.

And this voice is also very adaptable and further encourages the Vangaalen comparisons. Reitherman is as comfortable at the dizzy heights of the grand indie riffs of Hi-Fi Goon or the lowly folk acoustics of Shade For A Shadow. His delivery can be as gruff as old boots or so soft he could be singing his kids to sleep. So I guess what I'm saying is that this is an album of subtle contrasts. Nothing is abrasive or challenging and things may occasionally veer towards perilous lands of sugar but as The Outer Folds brings the record to a gentle close with its lounge-act melodies and softly brushed rhythms it's pretty hard not to sit back and smile at what you've just heard. This is infectious for all the right reasons, it's anthemic and intimate, it's polished and yet threads hang unapologetically from its edges. But somewhere in amongst all that is something that keeps me coming back for more and I will continue to do that until I hear any of these on a T-Mobile ad. Reitherman, you have been warned.

#Music
#BC

10th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Serengeti & Polyphonic

Terradactyl

Anticon

Anticon's newest signing is a textural piece of left-field hip hop that dredges the depths of the human condition but manages to shimmer with excitement in the subtlest of ways. Serngeti & Polyphonic are a duo from Illinois and this is their sophomore record but debut for Anticon. Separately they couldn't have more contrasting upbringing and it's these differences that form the basis of their sound. Serengeti, born David Cohn, grew up in Chicago with his mother - a secretary, atheist and devout Communist on the then all-black South Side and with his father - a stressed, middle class business owner in the then all-white suburbs. So while he was busy handing out copies of Socialist Worker at May Day rallies Polyphonic (Will Freyman) was taking piano lessons at his dad's behest. So what we have as a result of all this is a duo who construct fiercely intelligent hip hop that is acutely tuned to this experience of life, but is surrounded and supported by an incredibly sophisticated musical structure.

Serengeti's delivery is monotone and reluctant, it plods and mumbles as if oblivious of the textures that encircle it. At first his connection with his sonic surroundings seems awkward and jarring. After all, he raps about characters that are constantly struggling to belong or connect with their surroundings so this lack of cohesion with the beats is quite apt. But as the record progresses this disjointedness never changes but seems to become the very glue that binds these songs. Polyphonic conjures some of the most complex soundscapes I've heard in this genre for some time. They are incredibly fragile and once analysed seem to exist on virtually nothing at all. They shimmer like TV static and glisten like a rain soaked city at 2am. They are polished with electronic precision and it's this that makes them bounce off the murky, buried vocals that occupy their cold environments.

Despite the fragility of these beats this music is dense to say the least. It's cold and empty and yet so overflowing at the same time. Like fine rain that goes virtually unnoticed but eventually soaks you to the skin, Cohn's deadpan observations tumble from the crackling atmospherics like dirty water from an overflowing street sewer. His depictions of place and the people that inhabit it are razor sharp and paint a lonely picture of modern-day struggle and confusion. Like Antipop Consortium or Fat Jon's work with Pole, the fusion of hip hop with electronic beats can often evoke bleak and sterile visions of our present day or future world. But with minimal orchestration being employed on songs like My Negativity Polyphonic shows that it's not simply bleeps and clicks here. As eery violin weaves its way throughout these fragile beats or My Patriotism's jaunty spanish guitar dances freely a massive wall of the most complex textural arrangement has risen up infront of you without you even noticing and to focus on it can be quite mind blowing.

The guest spots are used wisely with two Anticon heavyweights adding valuable verses. Buck 65 creeps in half way through La La Lala bringing a sense of nostalgia with his gruff delivery but sits perfectly with Serengeti's smooth rhyming. With the Bike For Three project such a success, Buck seems quite at home against Polyphonic's textures. Just as suited to this arena is Adam Drucker aka Dose One. As Dose's vocals emerge from the static on Steroids his usual delivery is so well disguised it's easy to miss the fact that it's him. Like a cloaked figure lurking in the shadows his voice morphs to the music like an ominous film-noir presence.

This record is tough going. It has a pretty stark outlook on the world we all inhabit but it sure is worth a listen. It takes all that hip hop was supposed to do and brings it fiercely into the present day. It also does exactly what this label was always supposed to do but in recent times has fallen somewhat short of the mark. Terradactyl is as forward thinking as any of the early Anticon releases and just drips quality from every expertly produced second.

#Music
#HHG

6th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wilco

Wilco (The Album)

Nonesuch

I've got a problem with Wilco.

After being drawn in by their alt country charm through the two Woody Guthrie / Billy Bragg collaborations, my love of the band expanded rapidly. Having missed all the hoo-hah surrounding Yankee Hotel Foxtrot's release, A Ghost Is Born was the first album I was truly anticipating - and with the mid-season signing of Jim O'Rourke it was this album that lifted them into another league for me, blending electronics, beats and guitars into a thrilling rock album of OK Computer-esque proportions.

Problem is, a lot of hardcore Wilco fans seem to see A Ghost Is Born as Wilco's 'Kid A moment' (for better or for worse) and as such the consensus seems to be to consider the band 'back on track' with the seemingly less far-out vibe of their more recent work. Wilco seem like they might agree and appear very comfortable back in their soft shoes, crafting detailed, refined, quality guitar rock.

Their are still touches of mayhem of course and after the well-crafted crowd-pleaser of Wilco (The Song), the album dips into the darkness with Deeper Down, before continuing the path trodden by the best of 2007's Sky Blue Sky - as swirling guitars cram an eight minute epic into the three and a half minutes of One Wing.

Bull Back Nova borrows in part from the pounding keyboards of Kidsmoke to decent effect, before the album begins to sag in the middle - with the saccharine Feist collaboration You And I and the plodding You Never Know. Things pick up with pounding backbone of (the possibly Bueller-inspired) I'll Fight and before you've registered it, the album is over.

Of course, the bottom line is that this is still an excellent album. Now that the pressure of grading it is over, I'm sure it will settle into my most-played list (18 times so far) - and probably surface in my end of year best-ofs, just as Sky Blue Sky. That album was lifted up a major notch following the live tour that supported the album, with many of the songs beefed up and stretched out when re-created by this immensly engaging band and I expect a similar story following August's London show.

Of course, it is entirely possible that it's me with the problem.

#Music
#CSF

1st Jul 2009 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Low Anthem

Oh My God, Charlie Darwin

Bella Union

At some point in their fledgling careers all 'man with guitar' outfits will have to bear reference to the 'man with guitar' master. If there's one aspect of His Bobness that Bella Union's The Low Anthem emulate, it is the sense of an old 'all seeing' soul in a young man's body. Long before the mundanity of a youth in a simple mining town was discovered by biographers and used against him by 'Judas' shouting fanatics Dylan created a myriad of myths about his upbringing. The 'ho-bo on a train' and 'circus performer on the run' personas that Dylan invented for himself created a mystique that allowed the listener to accept a wisdom that defied his tender years. Though technically 'two men with guitars', The Low Anthem have something of that sort of quality; with a philosophy that seeps from their music suggesting many years on a Kerouacian road. This comforting suspension of disbelief is a joy that makes The Low Anthem so enchanting; it would be a shame if it was shot to pieces by revealing that it is all just cut and pasted by 21st century teenagers with access to folk pages on wikipedia.

In terms of the actual sound and feel of The Low Anthem it is not the original Dylan that springs to mind, but rather the original 'new Dylan'; Bruce Springsteen. One always gets the sense that at heart The Boss is really the boy from New Jersey who got a union card and wedding coat for his 19th birthday rather than being born to run. Its not that The Low Anthem sound like Springsteen rather that they sound what a young Bruce might have sounded like if he had carried on along Thunder Road in search of America rather than getting bogged down with 'debts that no honest man can pay' down in Asbury Park and Atlantic City. Embarking from Rhode Island they must have hit the Midwest built a bonfire and larked about with a banjo, stopped off in the Appalachian mountains for a hill-billy hoe down, howled at the moon like the Boss's hero Tom Joad out on the dusty prairies, soaked up some Blue Grass in the Georgian swamps and been lifted by the sound of Spiritiuals in the deep south. 'Oh My God, Charlie Darwin', The Low Anthem's second album, is all of these things, with moments akin to a melancholic Bruce rocking gently alone on a porch or rollicking good times with the E Street Band in tow.

If your idea of great music is a band in a basement, then I dare say you'll love 'Oh My God, Charlie Darwin' and wish you'd been out on the road with the two men with guitars. If it isn't, then you'll probably be happy to book a last minute package and be glad that at no stage were you subjected to hotel lobby music that sounded in any way like 21st century Americana. The Low Anthem are the latest in a lineage from Woody Guthrie through Tom Waits and the Boss - who all the while manage to sound timeless.

#Music
#Muxloe

26th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

White Denim

Fits

Full Time Hobby

In my review of the dazzling debut album from White Denim, I referred to the free-weeling nature of their style to the possibility that their cup runnith over, that Workout Holiday was the result of someone calling time on this non-stop outpouring of grimy creative muscle flexing. Well almost a year on from this release and we get the followup, thus proving my point. Workout Holiday was a collection of new work and previous EP's so Fits has different role to play - but when you're so blind-sided by an album as I was with their debut, it sure is interesting to see the follow-up and put the catalogue into a context.

Their debut set them up as slightly unhinged punk upstarts and the clever thing about this record is that it not only hammers that point home quite profoundly, but also destroys it as a stereotype by placing them in some other less predictable arenas - that of lounge jazz, prog, psyche rock and even a bit of tropicalia. They've imposed quite a rigid structure on the record by separating these various approaches. The band describe the approach as "less medium to medium-hard songs and more songs that are medium-soft and hard-hard." Hard-hard leads the record with medium-soft occupying the second half. Very little ground is re-trodden here and from the outset it's quite clear that the manic schizophrenia they displayed earlier was nothing compared to what they are capable of. Radio Milk How Can You Stand It opens a four song run of some of the most sprawling free-form garage rock you'll have heard in a while. Drummer Josh Block and bassist Steve Teribecki lead this charge with non-stop rolling thunder. When I saw them in east London last month they treated us to a full throttle rock marathon that refused to acknowledge track-breaks. This is obviously how they roll these days and as All Consolation and Say What You Want repeatedly change up in arrangement and go careering off in unpredictable directions they might as well have done without track breaks here.

As far as the soft half of Fits is concerned Mirrored And Reverse is by far the highlight. It was given out as a free download in anticipation of the record and at the time it seemed quite a curious departure for this band but in the context of the record it not only make perfect sense but shines out as the best song here. It scuffles along on a downbeat rhythm with Petralli's vocals assuming an uncharacteristically subtle tone. As the rhythm swells the guitar drifts in with a guttural sort of blues that carries away the rest of the song. It's a worthy figurehead of this new sound and shows a more considered approach to their music. Along with the country pop of Paint Yourself and the lounge lazy haze of I'd Have It Just The Way We Were this second half treats us to some fine pop hooks like the ever-so-light and playful Regina Holding Hands.

Lead single I Start To Run and Everybody Somebody reign-in their tendency to erratic compositions and become near perfect garage rock. They drop in periodically to remind us that when they want to this trio can pull out a piece of toe-tapping grufty perfection, but they'd prefer to leave all that to other bands and strive forward into unknown territory. Fits may not be as instantly appealing or as jaw-droppingly exciting as Workout Holiday, but it's this refusal to stay still that makes it such a ballsy success. They started off as a bunch of punks who didn't know the rules and now they seem to have their eyes on the Hendrix crown, and it's only been a year. Their live show was an awesome display of energy and with Fits they've won themselves the freedom that some bands spend their entire career chasing. As I said after reviewing Workout Holiday, I can't wait for the next shot of this lot.

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#BC

23rd Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Flipper

Generic/Gone Fishin'/Public Flipper Ltd./Sex Bomb Baby

Domino

Re-re-re-release time for the four Flipper albums. Boy, these rekkids have a long history of being issued with some legal wrangling and format wars all rolled in for good measure. Apparantley a big influence on Nirvana, Henry Rollins and plenty of sludge-rock bands, Flipper are pretty much the also-rans of the American punk scene. Too slow and experimental for many, too noisy and uncompromising for others, it's easy to see why they never achieved the star status of those who followed. Here then, are their four official releases (with the exception of their new album) for those who missed them first time, second time, or third time round.

Generic Flipper
Flipper's first album kicks off with "Ever", which lays down their manifesto from the word go - guitar out of tune with the bass (and itself) in a gigantic wash of fuzz and reverb, but jollied along by go-go hand-claps. Perhaps this is Flipper's charm - even on the two studio albums they sound like they're having a crack at playing all the tunes for the first time, without the benefit of rehearsal. Naturally there are some moments when the originality of the vocals or the catchiness of the riffs break through the noise for a decent glimpse of what the fuss was all about, and on Generic the best track is the infamous "smoke on the water of punk" Sex-Bomb. Actually, Sex-Bomb is more of a punk "Low Rider" with it's infectious bass groove. Confusingly, Flipper also released a track called Lowrider which makes no reference to War's track...anyway...

Gone Fishin'
The second album is more sonically diverse, employing Sax, Vibes and Piano in places whilst continuing with the tradition of playing very loose. It's pretty heavy in places - less punk and more sludge - sort of like a prototype version of The Cows, and there are further flashes of what the band might have become if various members didn't keep dying of drug overdoses. Standout tracks are In Life My Friends, and Talk's Cheap.

Public Flipper Ltd
This is a collection of live tracks recorded by Flipper during their glory years (81 - 83). If you've enjoyed the sound of Flipper's first two albums you might wish to persevere with this one, since by now you'll be well used to the idea of the guitar being out of tune, and rather randomly played. Opening track New Rules No Rules is just about the most punk-rock thing you'll ever hear in your life - where Flipper's sound suddenly makes sense. Sadly though, the low-fi recordings do not convey the band's legendary HEAVY live sound, but at least there's quite a lot of material here that was not on the two studio albums - singles releases mainly - which leads us to...

Sex Bomb Baby
A collection of Flipper's singles and all remaining releasable tracks. The original 7" version of Sex-Bomb is great, complete with Riot noises over the end. The singles have the same kind of sound as the album tracks but they attempt to get the point across a little quicker, which sometimes helps. The track I really like here is Brainwash - truly original and nicely executed.

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You can't deny the influence Flipper have had on some great bands, but you can also hear why they were destined to be infamous rather than famous - they were dedicated to the way they sounded, but that very sound obscured the catchy elements of their tracks. I'm sure a good producer could have changed all that, but I don't think Flipper wanted to sound any other way. For once, I'd really like to hear an album full of Flipper cover versions done by contemporary bands who could wrestle the great bits out of the Flipper catalogue...and maybe even tune the guitars.

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#HarrisPilton

22nd Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Bike For Three!

More Heart Than Brains

Anticon

More Heart Than Brains is a creation that has been steadily evolving for many years and across vast distances and comes to our ears now as a fully formed and glistening piece of work. Bike For Three! is the collaborative project of Belgian based electronic producer Joelle Phuong Minh Le (Greetings From Tuscan) and Canadian rapper Buck 65. It all began when Phuong Minh Le found Buck through his Myspace page about two years ago and then sent him a piece of music to write lyrics to. As he explained in a recent interview I did with him (coming soon), he was so taken with the quality of this first and fully formed piece of music she's given him saying "It was was extremely flattering to me that somebody would give me their absolute best best and would push themselves beyond anything they had done before." This first song inspired a blissfully productive series of creative exchanges with Phuong Minh Le delivering shimmering electronic landscapes, all fully formed and unpredictable in their direction, for Buck to weave his intricate lyrical musings. The result is a highly personal and tender opus and probably some of the best things this MC has delivered.

The two artists conducted this creative exchange for many years but have never met. This way of making a record could produce disjointed music with both artists working separately but actually More Heart Than Brains is the opposite. The obvious mutual respect that Terfry talks about is clearly what has driven these songs and what makes both elements merge perfectly. It has also driven each artist to rise to eachothers high standards. Phuong Minh Le's compositions are simply stunning. With an exquisite attention to detail she crafts elaborate vistas built around downtempo beats surrounded in bristling textures. They rarely end up where they start and even though she first approached Terfry the task of matching these compositions with lyrics must have been a daunting one indeed. But it's one that Terfry rises to with equal confidence.

Being presented with such pure and beautiful music has brought out some of the most personal and revealing lyrics he's ever penned. Phuong Minh Le's music stands in front of him like a mirror from which intimate reflections of love and life emanate with arresting honesty. Can Feel Love (Anymore) picks through the wreckage of a broken relationship and all the time Buck's chorus lyrics are shadowed by a subtle and effect laden female voice that only confounds the loneliness. This loneliness is seen again on Nightdriving where Buck's often seen persona as a loner in a strange land takes place in a city at night. The music here gleams like never before reflecting the light that bounces over nighttime urban surfaces. His flow is also severely challenged by this music. This is seen to dazzling effect on one of the albums many highlights There Is Only One Of Us. This song starts with a female intake of breath, as if about to speak. It continues on a steady beat with the lyrics ambling along but then rises on a wash of synths to finally drop into a drum and bass formation with little warning. Buck's tempo excellerates on cue and the whole thing just launches with thrilling pace.

Since 2005's Secret House Against The World it's been pretty tricky to predict what Buck 65's going to come out with next. The following Situation was a highly conceptual album that seemed to rely more heavily on hip hop beats, but it put him in a place that was hard to come back from artistically. This collaboration has proved a wise move for him, taking him out of his one-man-band comfort zone into unfamiliar and yet rich territory. As each artist raises their game, reacting spontaneously and honestly to the creativity of the other, More Heart Than Brains sounds almost like a live feed in an artistic bounce off. It's the sound of two individuals trading intimate thoughts over time and distance and you really can't help feeling honored to be allowed to listen in.

#Music
#HHG

15th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet