Chimpomatic

Munich

(dir. Steven Spielberg)

Following the massacre of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics, the Israeli government assemble a covert unit to track down and assassinate those they deem responsible. Totally disconnected from their country and their families the mission leads the group into dark territory, leading many of them to question what they are doing.

The era of the film is superbly recreated, through the photographic style - which is highly reminiscent of genre films like The Conversation or The French Connection. Spielberg uses retro zooms and deftly choreographed cameras and action to set the set the scene, provide tension and re-create the shooting style of the era. When did zooms become a no-no exactly? A hugely detailed scene outside a busy airport is made to seem as though the camera crew just turned up in '71 on a regular day and started rolling. It's subtle and easily overlooked, but superbly done.

Unfortunately the slow-pacing, unclear plot and lack of narrative that was often a hallmark of the 70's has also been lovingly created.  While of course I have no problem with films taking their time, I like to see that time put to good us. While there's nothing that could have obviously been dropped, things seem to happen with little build up and the time between doesn't always fill out the details. Then again, back in the 70's we didn't need any explanation for why the Ruskies were the bad guys - they just were.

Ciaran Hinds, Mathieu Kassovitz, Geoffrey Rush and Daniel Craig all put in solid performances, but it's Eric Bana's film and he convincingly portrays the patriot torn between right and wrong.

#Film
#CSF

12th Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Disturbia

(dir. DJ Caruso)

iTunes generation remix of Rear Window, w Transformers star Shia Le Beouf here a moody teen who's spending the summer holidays stuck in his bedroom after getting one of those Asbo electronic tags on his leg.

It's a great set-up that lets the surveillance thrills play out when mom Carrie-Anne Moss pulls the plug on his wired-world - no XBox Live!? - what's left, but for him to stare out of the window? At first it's a toss-up between checking out hot new neighbour Sarah Roemer or keeping tabs on creepy David Morse, but once he's convinced her to come up and play w his binoculars, it's all systems go for them to spend the rest of the movie trying to work out if there's a serial killer living next door or not.

Although there's something of a generic big chase finale, for the most part it's a solid mainstream thriller, less indie than the trailer makes out, but v enjoyable nonetheless.

#Film
#chimp71

1st Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Various Artists

Hallam Foe - Original Soundtrack

Domino

Film maker David McKenzie wanted to free himself from the convention of composing an original score as a sound track to his forthcoming film Hallam Foe. Discouraged by the prohibitive costs of forking out for already licensed published source music McKenzie decided the best avenue to pursue this would be to approach a record label about buying up a job lot. It was a move that evidently paid off with McKenzie and Hallam Foe winning this year's Best Music in a Film Silver Bear award at the prestigious Berlin Film Festival. McKenzie's master-stroke was plumping for Domino as his label of choice. Who better to paint the aural landscape of a coming of age tale set in contemporary Britain than Domino? With the exception of the title track by label luminaries Franz Ferdinand, not a single song in this collection was commissioned for the film but instead the whole Domino archive was trawled for appropriate tunes. It's a deal that pays off for everyone because Domino have the opportunity to showcase some of their lesser known talent. And what a stable of talent it is too. As much as a film soundtrack this is a chance for the label to say 'meet the family'.

Listening to the Hallam Foe reminded me of those big occasions when one meets a whole new family, perhaps the in-laws or a new step family for the first time. In this case the Domino family. Like all family do's it is a gathering of quite disparate characters who all have little more than a name in common. Like a family from a Mike Leigh film, or Jonathan Franzen novel there are inevitably secrets. The Domino's are no exception and provide a soundtrack populated by acts who all have a role to play.

Opening the album is 'Blue Boy' by Orange Juice, with Edwyn Collins in the role of the family hatchback driving Uncle reminding all that he once zipped around on a scooter and chopped out songs with military beats and Clash riffs. King Creosote discloses the discovery of an extra marital affair that everyone pretends not to know about in 'The Someone Else'. Rebellious cousins have shown up with Clinic's 'if i could read your mind' snarled out like Jonny Rotten singing a Smiths song and U.N.P.O.C screeching 'here on my own' like Frank Black attempting a Talking Heads number. Pssap is the cute little niece playing kazoo and singing about their Tricycle. The role of exotic wife of the uncle who made all the money is played by Juana Molina with a sultry seductive voice. Franz Ferdinand are the golden boys who have been overindulged and fail to entertain. The sister who's been damaged by a broken heart comes in the form of the sweet and sensitive 'I hope that you get what you want' by the soothing Woodbine and all the teenage heart break is narrated by James Yorkston with the wisdom of an 80 year old granddad. The gathering is completed by a couple of annoying younger brother's, in particular Double Shadow with their pretentious sub Prince effort and Future Pilot AKA who linger with a brooding air of menace.

Like any big do, it's not possible to remember all names and recall all the characters, some just add a background hum to the atmosphere of the Hallam Foe affair but on this one meeting alone the Domino family are ones that I'd definitely like to spend more time with.

#Music
#Muxloe

31st Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Knocked Up

(dir. Judd Apatow)

Another solid comedy from Judd Apatow and his crew (are they really called the Jew-Tang Clan?). The set-up's pretty straightforward: stoner Seth Rogan accidentally gets out-of-his-league hottie Katherine Heigl (Dr Izzie from Grey's Anatomy) pregnant during a boozy one night stand; she decides to keep the baby, he decides to try and make it work. Meanwhile, she's living w her sister Leslie Mann and brother in law Paul Rudd (the cooler shop nerd in 40 Year Old Virgin), whose constant bitching at each other makes her wonder if there's any hope for relationships ever working out. Seth's bong-loading roommates don't help much either. What makes this work above and beyond the confines of its slacker romcom premise, is that it's played in what passses for a pretty realistic style in Hollywood these days. Guys talk in guy talk (endlessly riffing on pop culture); the girls do girls' world properly. The communication breakdown is played for laughs, but also feels accurate. Populated w cast members from his excellent Freaks And Geeks, as well as past hits like 40 Year Old Virgin, Apatow goes a long way to making mainstream comedy relevant again. Still a bit too long, but it doesn't seem like anyone's heading back to the 90 minute-mark in a hurry.

#Film
#chimp71

31st Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Caribou

Andorra

City Slang

More enjoyable laptop psychedelia from reindeer-lover Dan Snaith. All works pretty well, with opener Melody Day launching things in a melancholy style (great Four Tet remix on the single as well, for once a reworking that takes things down rather than up). Feels a bit more live than previous outings, keeping the samples more in the background. The song to jam ratio is improved this time too; feels like a band rather than a solo project. If you're into the whole acoustic guitars being sampled thing, you'll be happy taking a trip to Andorra. We're still holding his Montague Arms freakout against him at Chimp Towers, but that shouldn't put you off.

#Music
#chimp71

24th Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

O'Death

Head Home

City Slang

What do you get if you cross a wailing voice, a banjo and a fiddle? This isn't a joke. Country music right? Well normally yes but in a parallel, and slightly perverse, universe the outcome is O'Death.

Listening to O'Death I'm reminded of the scene from the Blues Brothers where the band reform and secure a gig at Bob's Country Bunker. 'What kind of music do you usually have here?' asks Elwood and the response is "we have both kinds; country and western" whereupon the band are forced to launch into Stand by your Man and the theme from Rawhide before a riot ensues. To me this has always summed up country music. As an outsider it has always seemed to be something of a closed shop existing in a vacuum that fails to acknowledge or incorporate any other form of music. Those on the inside appear to know the ropes and stick to the formula - it's either plaintive songs of heartbreak of the 'stand by your man' ilk or sing-along hoe downs from the Rawhide vein.

O'Death are the outsiders who don't play by the rules, they've left the country bunker and discovered a whole other world out there. Now there is another suffix to add after country; it's not just 'and western' because to the musical lexicon O'Death have introduced 'country and gothic punk'. Based in New York, these are rural boys embracing the attitude of the big city. Theirs' is a sound not so much for barn dances on Walton mountain but mosh pits with the characters from Deliverance on the Texas Chainsaw Massacre farm. This is the riot at Bob's Country Bunker in musical form.

It is an edgy and at moments slightly disturbing journey but O'Death is a travelling carnival of infectious energy. Their relentless refusal to charm is charming in itself and if you get it then it rocks! Melody is certainly not sacrificed.  Most tunes being of the foot stomping variety rest on beats that recall Iggy and the Stooges. These songs could've been penned by Tom Waits imagining them being delivered by a voice that at times could belong to either Frank Black, Jack White or Neil Young. At the end of this barn dance you can imagine that someone has spilt volatile moonshine over a hay bale. A stray cigarette thrown away by the fiddler has caused a fire and the band have to make a sharp exit on the back of a pick up truck. The locals elders are up in arms bemoaning the trail of destruction but the kids have had their eyes opened and will never be the same again.

#Music
#Muxloe

23rd Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Monkey: Journey to the West

Palace Theatre, Manchester

The flagship event of the Manchester International Festival is an ambitious one: An opera with music by Damon Albarn, designs by Jamie Hewlett and direction by Chen Shi-Zheng entirely in Mandarin. The two-hour work involves a cast of 45-odd martial artists, acrobats and singers - and in the case of Fei Yang, who plays Monkey, often all three simultaneously.

The event is nothing short of spectacular. The opening sequence, with animations by Hewlett, which deals with Monkey's birth (hatched from a giant egg, which was expelled from a great stone) is perfectly coordinated with the live music. Later in the scene, which switches effortlessly to the live players, Monkey with other monkeys climbs up the bamboo trees - which is reminiscent of the scenes in Crouching Tiger and Flying Daggers, except that these people are really doing it.

The story, which many chimps will be familiar with, is a Chinese classic. Monkey is obsessed with seeking immortality and magical power, and travels over continents to find a teacher. He eventually finds Subodhi, a Taoist master, who teaches him how to fly on a magical cloud that can carry him on great distances, and the art of transforming himself into anything he wants.

He then dives into the Eastern Sea and finds the Old Dragon King to whom he boasts of his prowess and requests a weapon to equal his ability. The King gives him the magical iron rod, which can change from the size of a needle to the size of a mountain, and is so powerful it holds down the ocean floor.

Monkey travels to Heaven to demand recognition of his power, and gate crashes a birthday party for the Queen Mother of Heaven. Incensed that he was not invited along with gods and sages, he wreaks havoc - eating all of the heavenly peaches, each of which takes 9000 years to ripen and bestows an extra thousand years of life. He fights with all of the gods and sages, winning every battle, and proclaims himself a Great Sage Equal to Heaven. The Queen Mother of Heaven eventually pleads with the Great Buddha to step in to get the Monkey King under control. Monkey is imprisoned under the palm of Buddha.

Five hundred years later, the Buddha sends the goddess Guan Yin to find a believer to journey to India to bring the Holy Scriptures to China. She chooses Hsuang-tsang, a handsome, devout Buddhist monk and gives him the name Tripitaka after the Scriptures themselves. Guan Yin enlists Monkey to protect Tripitaka and they embark on their journey, finding Pigsy and Sandy on their way and offering them the chance of redemption in return for their service. They encounter many adventures and obstacles on their Journey to the West.

The text, which alternates between spoken word and song is delivered entirely in Mandarin, the inclusion of subtitles which are hard to read due to the heads of the people in front, help only a little. Surtitles wouldn't have worked here either, since the theatre has a huge amount of restricted-view seating. That aside the story is easy to follow, and it is often the case in opera, even those sung in English, that you cannot hear the words.

The sound-world is exotic and far from conventional. The orchestra consists of some western instruments - 2 violins, cello, trumpet, trombones, tuba and percussion - as well as instruments from China such as the Pipa, Zhongruan and Zheng, which are all string instruments. Damon Albarn also includes a substantial amount of electronics, including an Ondes Martenot (as used extensively by Jonny Greenwood), and keyboards. Also in the pit are 9 singers who contribute to the overall sound, often wordlessly. All of the music is amplified too, which adds a further dimension to the sound. The entire opera is held together by the young conductor André de Ridder, who can be seen cueing the singers on stage - often whilst they are suspended mid-air, mid-flight and mid-fight.

The music is a mixture of Ennio Morricone (particularly Farewell to Cheyenne, from Once Upon a Time in the West), Philip Glass (circa Koyaanisqatsi), and Tibetan Buddhist chant. Albarn manages also to avoid writing music that sounds Chinese, whilst simultaneously doing exactly that. His gift for melody and riff-making are also pleasingly evident here.

Taken as a whole, then, this opera does what opera should do at its best - it entirely captivates for the duration of the show. I was completely caught up in the story, the music, the animation and the action on stage. I couldn't help thinking though, whether this opera was successful because of the huge spectacle, and if the lavish production was stripped away it would be as impressive. It is certainly as big a production as those found at the Met in New York, or the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden.

Rumour has it that the production will be transferred to London at some point. It moves to the Théâtre du Chatelet in Paris from late September. I saw cinematographer Christopher Doyle after the show, perhaps he will be making a DVD of this run. Definitely worth seeing.

#Music
#Gig
#cnrth

5th Jul 2007 - 6 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Spoon

Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

Anti

For me, Spoon are one of the great American Indie bands - seemingly always recording, and always on tour. I got into them late, but like all good bands they have a back catalogue that keeps on giving... all the way back to their rough edged debut Telephono.

Telephono led them onto a major label deal with Elektra, who then dropped them after A Series of Sneaks failed to do the required business - a story covered in their Agony of Lafitte EP. Their subsequent records each expanded the success of the last, and 2005's Gimme Fiction seemed like a big hit - with I Turn My Camera On seemingly playing in all the clubs. I guess I was just in the right clubs, as number 44 in the charts doesn't demonstrate sales being where they should for a band this good. Their critical success continues however, and following last year's sidestep into soundtracks (for Will Ferrell's Stranger Than Fiction) Britt Daniel and co are back with another great record.

Don't Make Me A Target heralds the bands return, and quickly seems to address these political times ...or maybe that's just me reading things into it. Either way, politics doesn't get in the way of a thumping good tune, that quickly dispenses with the lyrics for a guitar and piano attack. The Ghost Of You Lingers is on the edge of pretentious, but falls just the right side of brilliant. It's an unconventional song, with effects and layered vocals that seem like they're building up to something which never comes, but where it takes you on it's own terms is more than satisfactory - dark, atmospheric and moody.

Cherry Bomb rolls back the years to the Girls Can Tell era and the kind of high-school story that seems to be the Spoon staple. Touching, moving and sentimental - built around great music with a banging piano trumpet and drums. Don't You Evah is a cover of a song by The Natural History, and there's some classic Spoon in tracks like My Little Japanese Cigarette Case and Don't You Evah.

The album is more of a fall back to the classic Spoon sound, before the mildly misleading diversion of Gimme Fiction. It's the sound of cruising in a 50's hotrod, chasing girls and drinking milkshakes with Richie Cunningham.

The band has moved forward and become more sophisticated, building more complex, layered backgrounds for their deceptively simple songs. There seems to be some influence coming in from the sound track experience and Rhythm and Soul ticks a lot of my favourite boxes to great effect. Great tempo changes. Great keyboards. A touch of Small Stakes Ice Hockey rock. I've narrowed the magic ingredient down to a squeaky little sound or a barking dog - which will make CSF junior chuckle one day. Animal Midnight has it, and so does On Parade.

Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is short, at 36 minutes / 10 songs ("the perfect number of songs for an album" apparently), but it never seems it. This is a classy and well-produced record, with some great songs, magic touches and restrained, clever song-writing. It's not a massive step forward - which is no complaint from me, as it is the sound of a great band knocking out another great album.

#Music
#CSF

5th Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Bonde Do Role

Bonde Do Role With Lasers

Domino

Describing Bonde Do Role is tricky.  Theirs’ is a brand of ‘baile funk’, originating from Brazilian ghettos as espoused by current indie darlings CSS.  Describing ‘baile funk’ is also tricky.  Perhaps it is easier to utilise the words of Pedro D'eyrot, one of Bonde Do Role’s MCs.  He explains that ‘baile funk is “like hip hop gone punk.  We have a word for it in Portuguese which is ‘rebola’ and it means dancing with your hips.  Basically, it’s booty music with people screaming over it and lots of energy.”  That’s about it, and very catchy it is too.
 
‘With Lasers’ is an album influenced by a list of genres as long as your arm.  D’eyrot says that it is like ‘digging through the garbage in Brazil and using the pieces to make a club mess’.  By my reckoning this must mean that the bins in Brazil do not just contain household waste and beer cans but a myriad of different vibrant sounds.  There are pre-grunge guitar riffs, beloved of air guitarists Bill and Ted, galore.  There are chants that remind me of primary school skipping games the girls used to play.  Mix these in with rhythms that could shake Brazilian football stadiums and beats that shake the bootys of Carnival dancers.  Throw in some samples lifted from obscure Latin American cartoons and sound effects resurrected from some long forgotten Super NES or Sega Megadrive games.  Amongst all this supposed garbage will also be found synth loops associated with provincial German discos circa 1987, Portuguese cheerleading and some primitive rapping.  It’s a hell of a mixture which leaves quite a cluttered sound.  Clutter can be bad buts it’s more akin to a second hand shop full of gems rather than the contents of a Granny’s house clearance.
 
The whole mixture is held together by the MCing which is of the primitive variety reminiscent of the 80’s when everyone from Blondie to John Barnes tried their hand at rapping.  The fact that it is delivered in Portuguese gives it an exotic and beguiling air which the lyrics may not warrant.  The female MC sounds a bit like Black Eyed Fergie but as she’s singing in a foreign language I’m not quite put off by her rhymes which could just be about London Bridges and Lady Lumps for all I know.  When she throws in a few grunts, groans and sex noises here and there it all becomes more alluring than inane.
 
All in all Bonde do Role’s debut album does have something of a disposable feel to it – much like the contents of a Brazilian bin no doubt – but like a cheap toy its fun for now.  The album is full of infectious energy and insistent beats that’ll get you in the mood for dancing with your hips.  Sophisticated it is not but then who cares?  Pedro D’eyrot doesn’t.   “For us it's all about the fun, and if it's not fun it's not worth doing. People can think whatever they like about us, but I'd like them to listen to Bonde Do Role in 10-15 years' time and laugh their asses off.”  He’s probably right, we probably will laugh in 15 months let alone 15 years.  But for now I hazard a guess they’d be worth seeing live and you might just well play this at every party you host this summer, shaking your booty with people screaming over the top.

#Music
#Muxloe

28th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Transformers

(dir.Michael Bay)

Dreamworks

After their planet is ravaged by civil war, two warring factions of shape-shifting robots arrive on earth in search of a digital rubik's-cube gizmo with the power to turn ordinary electrical appliances into all consuming monster robots. The Decepticons are led by the evil Megatron, who was discovered frozen in the ice by troubled geeky teen Shia La Beouf's grandfather. Luckily he's just bought a new car that turns out to be one of the friendly Autobots who are here to save us - led by the articulated lorry-esque Optimus Prime.

As a kid you would probably shit bricks at how cool the robots are in this movie, but as an adult it's like watching a 120 minute trailer that shows all the best bits. An experience not too dissimilar to lying down on a motorway being run over constantly. The premise is thinner than Highlander II, with very little explanation for why the robots can assume some shapes they like, but don't bother at other times - when being a steam roller might be more useful than being a cool little dune-buggy.

Hollywood heavyweight/lifecoach Michael Bay adds his usual flair, taking his cue from the George Lucas school of film making - where you can't see the CGI because it's all CGI, and it works pretty seamlessly. There are some great sequences and effects - notably the helicopter-bot assassin that attacks the US Army a couple of times in an attempt to steal their bandwidth or something.

It's a fun ride, so don't take my cynical opinion on it all. I was always more of a Lego fan.

#Film
#CSF

25th Jun 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Sebadoh

The Freed Man

Domino

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

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

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

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#chimpovich

25th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Alias

Collected Remixes

Anticon

Is this the sound of an underground label on the turn? I doubt it judging by the quality Anticon releases that flank this one but you really have to wonder what place this collection of easy listening remixes has either on this label or on the discography of an artist with the pedigree of Alias. Together with people like Sole and Dose One,  Brendon Whitney was among the first wave of artists to launch the Anticon assault and with his work on the Deep Puddle Dynamics project and his debut The Other Side Of The Looking Glass Alias established himself as main player in this pioneering collective.

Which makes this release all the more curious. It's not bad at all, in fact many of these tracks in their own right are pretty solid but put them in a context such as this and boredom soon sets in. This is a pretty varied cast featuring the likes of Lunz, Sixtoo and Lali Puna and yet it all sounds like a substandard Alias record. All distinctive characteristics of the original songs seem to have been ironed out in favor of the presiding bass heavy, synth beat that Alias is all about at the moment.

Some standout moments are Why?'s inclusion on the 13 & God remix, lush atmospherics on Lucky Pierre's Crush and the song of the album has to go to Sixtoo's Karmic Retribution/Funny Sticks with it's booming beat and apocalyptic grandiosity.  But these are the songs I would have expected to shine as the originals are so good and a part from that it's all pretty forgettable. I normally recoil from remix albums for the opposite reason, that they are too fragmented, so I guess that's one distinctive feature about this record.

#Music
#HHG

20th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Shrek The Third

(dir. Chris Miller, Raman Hui)

Dreamworks

Lame threequel to this previously excellent series; really the only point seems to be to remind you how watchable (and re-watchable) the first two are. Mike Myers, Cameron Diaz, Eddie Murphy and Antonio Banderas are all back as Shrek, Princess Fiona, Donkey and Puss in Boots.

A duff plot involving the succession to the Far, Far Away throne is thrown in as little more than an excuse for a trip to add Jason Timberlake as a goofy, but still v handsome Prince to the gang. Shrek doesn't want to be king (or a dad), meanwhile Rupert Everett's Prince Charming is back. He does want to take over — ooh, who will get the crown in the end?

Couple of OK jokes, Eric Idle's Merlin is not bad; but considering the non-stop, smart and unexpected gags that filled up the first two, you don't come away from this feeling very happy ever after at all.

#Film
#chimp71

18th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Silversun Pickups

Carnavas

Sire

At the 2007 party of screaming dullards, where haircuts are mistaken for personality and t-shirts for opinion, Silversun Pickups would undoubtedly be the un-coolest attendees, which of course, when compared to the remaining herd of technicolour banshees, puts them in the lead and out of sight in the cool stakes.

In Carnavas, the LA four-piece have made a record that blissfully ignores current trends and unashamedly heads back to the early 90s where fuzz guitars were king. So unnassuming you might dismiss it at first or even miss it altogether, Carnavas soon gets you hooked and reels you in.

First listens recall the likes of Veruca Salt, one of the female fronted groups following the grunge troupe circa 1992-1994. Except, Silversun Pickups' singer is called Brian. However his femine voice sits comfortably over the dreamlike and wandering guitar work throughout the album and his screams hold their own as the anger notches up on the likes of current single Future Foe Scenarios and early favourite Lazy Eye.  A welcome blast of nostalgia in 2007 and beyond.

#Music
#chimpovich

12th Jun 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Justice

†

† (or "Cross" as some places without access to the outer limits of their keyboards are calling it) is a great debut from this French dance duo.

Crunchy, bit-crushed reworkings of Franz Ferdinand, N*E*R*D and esp Simian's We Are Your Friends over the last few years have seen their name float to the top of the "new Daft Punk" pile; the tracks here suggest they've also listened to Aphex Twin's Windowlicker, taken the template and worked out something new with it. Touches of Mr Oizo too.

Excellent early single Waters Of Nazareth is included, along w D.A.N.C.E. which manages to get away w a kids' choir in full sound-of-summer bouncy hit fashion. It's pop w a lot of dirt left in, sounds fresh, works as an album, though you've got to suspect it'll sound even better busting out of the Plastic People speakers than it does on the CT kitchen set-up

#Music
#chimp71

12th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Ryan Adams

Koko

I had some expectations regarding this concert; first of all Adams has won me over with his records and did deliver a great performance at Royal Festival Hall a few years back. Also the venue, being so bijou and intimate, was promising even more of a connection with events on stage. With no support act the audience was really hungry for some action, and the band did not disappoint, arriving all sharply suited and sitting in one line, facing the crowd, as if to say that all the members are equally as important, no lead singer at the front. Adams, sporting classic Wayfarer sunglasses, looked like a schoolboy member of the Rat Pack, sitting on a high chair with no guitar in sight as if leading a big band playing a stripped down club set. Whether the absence of his guitar still owed to a ligament torn a month ago or an artistic choice remains a mystery. Anyway, Neal Casal was doing a great job covering for Adams.

We were first treated to songs from his latest album, 'Easy Tiger', which is out on 25/06/07, so the songs were new to most of the audience. Adams' voice was even bigger and more resonant than usual, again confirming the impression of a big band number, although on some of the songs instrumental arrangements would seem more appropriate if performed sitting on haystacks. It seemed that Adams was not in the mood for performing for the audience, with his glasses ever-present on the moodily lit stage and not acknowledging the applause until the latter part of the concert. By the time he spoke at the encore, it was drowned by the chatter of semi-captivated audience. Encore was very short and did not treat us to many of the greatest songs apart from 'Goodnight Hollywood Blvd' and 'My Winding Wheel'. All in all the band were on stage little over an hour and 10 minutes, which simply left one disappointed and seemed like a missed opportunity.

#Music
#Gig
#pygmymarmoset

10th Jun 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Simian Mobile Disco

Attack Decay Sustain Release

Wichita

With Dance Music Guy on extended leave due to ‘exhaustion’, the job of reviewing any music with beeps, bleeps and several beatsperminute generally falls to whoever is hanging around chimp hq after hours. Like stumbling round the darkened corridors of an after hours clubs for the first time, the move from Distortion Feedback Superfuzz Bigmuff to Attack Decay Sustain Release can be a disorientating affair.

Or is it? From the Prodigy, through Leftfield and the Chemical Brothers, casually throwing in a bit of Daft Punk and perhaps a dash of Air and onto Basement Jaxx and Groove Armada, the list of dance acts (groups) that have crossed over into the relatively mainstream world of drums and bass (plus rhythmn and lead guitars) have been few and far between. Which is understandable really, coming from a style of music that wears its underground credentials more proudly than most. Simian Mobile Disco, like those listed above, have brought the clubs up to the people, rather than forcing the people reluctantly down into the clubs. And it’s a no-lose situation for both sides. Simian Mobile Disco are guaranteed a nice slice of uncompeted success, whilst the ageing zeitgeist hunters can keep their finger in the region of the pulse, but their feet away from the dance floors.

Attack Decay Sustain Release allows us sun kissed indie heads to dabble in the dark side, getting that weekend vibe before going to the pub to continue the Kings of Leon debate, head back home at closing time and maybe come down with a bit of Neil Young’s Harvest.

#Music
#chimpovich

7th Jun 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

New Young Pony Club

Fantastic Playroom

Modular

The sickly cocktail of spiky electro-pop being all too rampant on the air waves recently and this bands repeated adornment of NME covers not to mention their multi remixed advert friendly singles hasn't done these London newcomers any favors in my narrow-minded over 30 opinion but it's a good job I actually listen to some these records before attempting to review them as this debut is rather good. They may be wet behind the ears and tick all the right fashion boxes but Fantastic Playroom shows a surprising oblivion to all this.

Kicking off with gangly guitars and oozing with bass Get Lucky introduces this bands sound wonderfully.Tahita Bulmer's slightly out of tune vocal style is strangely reminiscent of Seelenluft's surprise hit Manila and backed with their blend of booming beats and percussion driven texture, seen most notably on Hiding On The Staircase, Fantastic Playroom welcomes in fond memories of the much missed Luscious Jackson.

Anyone who's switched on a tv recently will be all too familiar with this bands leading track Ice Cream. But don't let the fact that it features on an Intel advert put you off this pitch perfect piece of electro pop. In fact you probably saw the advert and made a mental note to source out this sound that was forcing your toes to tap against their anti-capitalist will, because very occasionally advert tunes are picked for their clear-cut ability to captivate an audience rather than their tendency to barge into your head uninvited and set up camp indefinitely.

Their intention is quite clear throughout this album and for the most part their desire to create no-frills danceable pop tunes works perfectly. There is very little pretension here, the lyrics are intelligent yet simple, the beats are deep and crystal clear and all the surrounding synths and effects make the whole thing utterly absorbing and very hard to resist. Grey's admission "It's alright, as long as it's black or white," goes some way to describe the simplicity of this sound but as the last notes of the fantastic closer Tight Fight ring out you can almost hear the Queen Of Pop herself illuminate a light bulb above her head having found the sound to her next album.

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6th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Emily Haines & The Soft Skeleton

Knives Don't Have Your Back

Drowned In Sound Recordings

As a fervent fan of the Canadian collective Broken Social Scene I've been an admirer of Emily Haines for some time. In her BSS guise she makes me swoon. Every time I hear 'Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl' from the album 'You Forgot it in People', (the stand out track from an album packed with potential stand out tracks) I wonder why they don't make more use of the mercurial Ms. Haines. Her sporadic presence in BSS always reminds me of a skillful winger stuck out on the sidelines away from the action. As an example 'Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl' reveals all that needs to be known of Emily Haines. Its all about the voice; one that makes me fall in love, believing she must be both beautiful and cool. Beautiful, because she sings like an ethereal siren. Cool, because when she sings of how 'you used to be one of the rotten ones and I liked you for that' she epitomises the existence of everyone who is, or ever was, a bona fide indie kid the world over. 'Knives Don't Have Your Back' explains why sometimes it's not always completely fulfilling to fall in love with the coolest girl around.

Some will know that Emily Haines is not only a sometime contributor to the Broken Social Scene but also the front woman of Metric, a more dancey and punky outfit which took London by storm with their live shows earlier this year. 'Knives Don't Have Your Back', her debut solo album backed by her band the Soft Skeleton, offers a collection of songs that one senses she has longed to reveal away from the limitations imposed by her alternative roles. It is essentially a series of confessions and tales of loss eeked from her soul via the conduit of a piano. This exposure is simultaneously touchingly tender and achingly painful. The obvious comparison to be made, based on fragile sentiments and confident piano loops, is with the early material of Tori Amos; though minus the melodrama. But more than any other act it is the Velvet Underground that springs to mind on first listen. Its not so much the music or attitude of Lou Reed and John Cale that this album recalls but it is the qualities, if not the actual tones, of the two female Velvets that haunts from the grave. 'Reading in Bed' and 'Our Hill' exemplify the manner in which Mo Tucker, on songs like After Hours, manged to display a femine vulnerability while 'Doctor Blind' and 'The Lottery' are reminiscent of Nico's brooding sexuality.

Just as the Velvet Underground were shot through with the energy of New York, Sigur Ros encapsulate the sound of Icelandic fjords, or the Beuna Vista Social Club are the essence of Cuba, the sound of 'Knives Don't Have Your Back' mirrors the geography of Emily Haine's Canadian homeland. The songs are so evocative of skating on frozen ponds with wintery skies and endless horizons. There are moments of absolute sublime beauty; 'Winning' and 'Nothing & Nowhere' are songs that can break your heart and then mend it in the space of just a few minutes. If you had your ipod set to shuffle and any one of these numbers came on randomly you would think that if this chosen song was representative of the whole album then 'Knives Don't Have Your Back' would warrant a rating of nothing less than 5 out of 5. There are no problems with any single one of the songs individually. They are subtley crafted with heart wrenching honesty in isolation, but stacked back to back they can leave one feeling a little cold. There is a longing for some comfort and warmth just as I imagine there would be if one fell through the ice of a frozen Canadian pond. Perhaps she is aware of this; on 'Reading in Bed' she asks 'after all the luck you've had, why are your songs so sad?' I'm still in love with Emily Haines but she's perhaps just a little bit too cool - no matter how beautiful a crisp winter morning is sometimes you just wish for the advent of some spring sunshine.

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30th May 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Sage Francis

Human The Death Dance

Strange Famous

After hearing the opening track to the 3rd full length from this master of all things spoken I started planning my 'fallen hero' review. With a heavy heart and a heavier pen I began the obituary of this lyrical wizard, combing through his previous two albums trying to find any predictions for this untimely demise. But luckily for Sage Francis and you, my worthy readers, I am not one of these people who writes a review based on the first few tracks, because by track 3 I was beginning to mentally screw up my previous review and was only too glad to find myself back at the drawing board. Where Underground For Dummies started things off with a predictable and unimaginative back-story to Sage's hip hop pedigree Civil Disobedience restores the factory settings and it's pretty much clever wordplay and tight rhymes from here on in.

After a string of EPs it was 2002's Personal Journals that really let Sage flex his lyrical muscles. It was a dark and and gritty portrait of a man on the edge and was followed up in 2005 with the awesome A Healthy Distrust. This was an upgrade from the first album in every way. The beats were massive and the rhymes fiercer than anything that had gone before. I guess Human The Death Dance falls somewhere in between - which is no bad place to reside in the Sage back catalogue.

On A Healthy Distrust, Sage confessed to having "more back issues than Guns n' Ammo," and this album shows that few of these issues have been resolved, instead they seem to have festered and grown more potent over the years. Like friend and fellow poetic genius Buck 65, Sage Francis has always written his own rules and has never complied to any Hip Hop cliche. Instead of dick-swinging lyrics and thugged-out, self-referencing imagery we get an outpouring of anger, self-pity and cynicism slotted expertly into well crafted beats. The variety of beats here is what makes this album so listenable. Clickety Clack describes its beat perfectly while the dark and brooding Call Me Francois sounds like a Terminator chase scene.

But here's something I don't normally say in a hip hop review - it's the slow jams that really steel the show here. The best moments in the Sage Francis live show are when all the beats quit and he goes it alone. He has such lyrical dexterity - and without a beat this really shines. So the closest we get to that on a record is when the beat slows down as in Water Line or is replaced altogether by a full string section as on the epic Good Fashion. But there is a run of glory on the last four tracks starting with the album highlight Hell Of A Year. This is classic Sage Francis - slow, dark and oozing with melancholia. Few hip hop songs are about failed relationships and lost love but this is Sage's forte and the power of this song is still ringing in your ears when you get to the album closer Going Back To Rehab. This is Sage's most adventurous song yet. At just over six minutes it starts with a gentle guitar melody with Sage rhyming fluidly and venomously slowly getting fiercer and fiercer until the beat kicks in and the spit starts flying. It's an angry and powerful way to finish this super-intelligent third album and if it wasn't so damn good you'd be reaching for the phone, dialing the authorities to warn them that this guy's gonna do something bad sometime soon. But musically this isn't that time thank god and shame on me for thinking the Francis crown had slipped.

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23rd May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Arctic Monkeys

Favourite Worst Nightmare

Domino

Last month in the sweaty temple of music known as the London Astoria I worshiped at the altar of the Arctic Monkeys. Their performance was a revelation that mugged me of my considerable cynicism regarding the copius plaudits given to these whipper-snappers from Sheffield. My account of that experience was the review equivalent of Belushi back flipping down the aisles when the Rev. James Brown asked of the Blues Brothers congregation 'do you see the light?' Yes, I saw the light. And like all new converts I felt an evangelical duty to spread the word. The word was that the Arctic Monkeys are the real deal. So it was with some trepidation with which I approached listening to 'Favourite Worst Nightmare.' Having become such a public zealot would I now be left with a considerable amount of egg on my face? Thankfully the answer is no. Like any belief that is successfully put to the test my faith has been affirmed and strengthened. Though this may not be their masterpiece I stand by my assertion that the Arctic Monkeys are the real deal and, so long as they remain so, it is my mission to convert every Doubting Thomas.

The difficult second album. Many a lauded and applauded act has struggled with this one. A variety of approaches have been taken in pursuit of delivering the second coming. The Gallagher approach was to give an airing to the left overs deemed not quite good enough for the debut album. Some, such as the Strokes, take a laissez faire 'if it aint broke, don't fix it' approach. The Squire and Brown tactic was to take previous success as a license for self indulgence. Others, thinking of the La's, just wilt from the pressure. Luckily, the Arctic Monkey's have avoided the pit falls that litter the paths taken by these forerunners. Their sound maintains an energy and freshness which dispels fears they may have rested on their laurels. This is a collection that varies the pace and tone to suggest that they are more than just a one trick pony while the retention of economical 3 minute songs has guarded against any over indulgence.

Just in case the listener is in any doubt about the Arctic Monkey's musical direction they deliver hellos and goodbyes which make their own intentions absolutely clear. Album opener Brianstorm offers reassurance that they won't entirely turn their backs on the floor filling anthems with which the myspace kids first fell in love. Also reassuring is the proof that their heads haven't been turned by fame; preferring to mock boys in 't-shirts and ties combinations' and girls in jacuzzis who 'lay it on a plate' rather than deigning to join them. 505, the final song of the set, however leaves the listener with a reminder that the band intend to let their sound evolve even if outright revolution isn't on the cards. The signs point to the emergence of a more measured less frantic approach. Less brash and more sophisticated. Less about bravado but more confessional. All without discarding what made them special in the first place.

Where 'Whatever You Say I Am' was all about the possibilities of the night ahead, the soundtrack to an evening of escapades on dance-floors, Favourite Worst Nightmare is the journey home. Stepping off the nightbus the streets are empty except for neon reflections in dirty puddles and the rattling sound of the kebab shop shutters being pulled down. There is an air of menace that permeates throughout. It is an album that forces you to look over the shoulder to find you're being followed by edgy riffs, eerie organs, frantic drums, aggressive bass and tales of jealous boyfriends, daggers drawn and noses broken.

The strength of the Arctic Monkey's is that there is no evident bandmaster. They are a collective or gang who back each other up and allow all members a moment in the limelight. All have a chance to shine and impress. Alex Turner is a great chronicler of our times and certainly knows how to deliver a tune but that doesn't mean the rest are his backing band - far from it. The band was famously formed after they were given guitars for Christmas and surely Santa must have also delivered a bumper book of rock n roll riffs too. The versatility of the guitar parts is dizzying; ranging from Jack White-esque axe-smithery to delicate moments like riding the surf with the Beach Boys. The rhythm section play their part too. The bass veers from bullying on 'Teddy Picker' to bouncy on 'Flourescent Adolescent' and everything is held together by drumming alternating from powerhouse to shuffling in a manner which even Remi would be proud. Fortunately when they all raise their game simultaneously such as on 'Balaclava' there is no sign of too many cooks spoiling the broth, on the contrary the mixture of ingredients is magic.

I'm not preaching here in hope of convincing you to pay alms to the Chimpomatic church only to find that I shall later misappropriate these funds for a new life in Rio. It is not an album completely immune from criticisms, though in truth this is knit-picking in order to demonstrate that I'm not just pretending that the Emperor is wearing clothes. Very occasionally as on 'If You Were There, Beware' or 'Do Me A Favour' it is easy to predict the 'here comes the rock out' bit that characterises 6th form bands. Maybe sometimes the band have taken this commission too seriously. The likes of 'The Bad Thing' and 'Flourescent Adolescent' offer a too rare glimpse into the fun that it's possible to have when you're young and in a top rock n roll act. Expectations are high and perhaps Turner over-extends himself when he ventures beyond story telling to message giving. He doesn't need to try to be the spokesman for a generation, he can afford to leave that to someone else. But seriously, that is just knit picking.

So will the Arctic Monkey's prove themselves to the doubters with Favourite Worst Nightmare? Perhaps. Is this a great album? Maybe, though not definitely. Only time can hand out such accolades but respect and kudos needs to be awarded for giving it a valiant try. Are the Arctic Monkey's a great band? Again only time will tell but Favourite Worst Nightmare at least proves that they have the nous, talent and balls to one day deserve to be heralded as such.

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14th May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Brother Ali

The Undisputed Truth

The second full album from Brother Ali sees him turn a recent divorce, being a single dad and coping with losing his mother to cancer into more than a few tasty nuggets of hard hitting, intelligent hip hop. Since his debut Shadows On The Sun, Brother Ali has often become a breath of fresh air in this hip hop game blending well crafted lyrics with bass heavy, rolling beats. As a devout Muslim his raps have always been very earnest which set my alarm bells ringing from the start. While the constant tirade of thug rap bores the hell out of me there's something about rap with an overly positive message that makes me cringe, even if what they are saying is what I believe. But Brother Ali repeatedly avoids this pit fall often peppering this outlook with normal behavior like swearing and the odd bit of comedy.

To be honest, Shadows On The Sun blended these things more successfully and this album is starting to show signs of over-seriousness, a road Blackalicious took a while ago and their creativity has never recovered. A lot has happened to Ali since his debut which would explain this shift. His now ex-wife seems to have tried to kill him and her demise has left him in sole custody of his son, for the whole story see Walking Away. There has also been a war or two (Letter From The Government.)

But running through all this is what makes Brother Ali so individual, his flow. He has a style that can bring to mind Nelly or 50 Cent but is at the same time totally unique and with Atmosphere's Ant concocting deep, thundering beats the result is addictive. He can alter this style for slower beats (Here) making them intimate and then rise gloriously to beats like the awesome The Puzzle or the fierce Listen Up. The album is very well paced giving the listener time to recover with light numbers like Take Me Home and Uncle Sam Goddamn the kind of bumping swagger that would be ideal to bounce to in a low-ride ...if only my Nissan could handle it.

Though not quite so appealing as his debut, The Undisputed Truth is better than most and being an albino muslim rapper he can't help to make hip hop that looks at things differently. As long as he can keep his faith to a footnote and maintain his unique ability to spit the hard rhymes as well as the laid back tracks then he will continue to be a worthy light in these dark times.

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14th May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Dave Derby

...And The Norfolk Downs

Reveal Records

Being a paid up member of both fraternities I see certain similarities between the lot of a music fan and a singleton on the dating scene. Having fallen head over heels before both are ever optimistically on a quest for new loves. Each new date or act that comes by could be 'the one' but even if not hopefully there will be some fun to be had along the way. And all singletons know that to find the 'one' it is necessary to kiss a few frogs or spend a few nights on mattresses rendered uncomfortable by the strategic placement of a rock hard pea. Listening to Dave Derby reminded me of blind dates, and in particular ones that were not very successful. Dave Derby is not a prince dressed up as a frog, he's just a frog.

As with any blind date the agreement to listen to Dave was undertaken in good faith. Aside from getting the gender wrong in this case I decided to proceed on the basis that the match making skills of the Chimpomatic machine have served me well in the past. The prospects of a suitable hook up were not harmed by pre-date reports that Dave Derby was akin to Ryan Adams, a man who's music is often hit and miss but can verge on the sublime when it hit mode. The date had a promising start too. The introductory seconds of opener 'Come on Come on' echoed Neil Young's 'Out on the weekend' - the beguiling introduction to his classic album Harvest. The initial mood lulled me into believing that maybe Dave Derby could be the one, it had something of the sweet melancholy of Beck's Seachange about it - promising as this was one of my more recent loves. So like a date, where the mood is right, the introduction reliable, the venue cool and the company looking good I was confident this could be a night to saviour. That is until Dave opened his mouth.

The problem with Dave Derby is that his voice is rather middle of the road and consequently boring - after a while it becomes something of an endless drone. It is the musical equivalent of glazing over the eyes and hearing almost nothing said by your dinner companion. Even when the effort is made to tune it to what is actually being spoken the lyrical rhymes are lazily predictable ("baby what am I gonna do, I just don't know how I'll get over you"). Though he tries to be edgy and left-field the prevailing sense is of a sentimentality typified by 'You Got to Go' that would be a little to syrupy for Jack Johnson or even the Lighthouse Family. It all just reminded me of a date with no passion or spark. OK, so love may not be on the agenda but a little adventure wouldn't go a miss. If only I had thought to arrange a call from a friend giving me an 'escape early' get out clause from this bad date.

After a full listen to '...And the Norfolk Downs' I assessed the album as one does after a bad date. Maybe the problem wasn't with them, maybe it was me, perhaps I was in the wrong frame of mind, or maybe I just didn't give them a fair crack of the whip? After all it would be harsh to say Dave Derby was entirely without charm. The drumming on songs like 'Albuquerque' has a languid almost lazily hypnotic feel. The hammond organ on 'Baby' briefly does its best to brighten things up. And occasionally, such as on 'My Back Issues', Dave is canny enough to know that he wants to sound like Willy Mason even if he doesn't quite know how to. So being the fair minded type I am I gave Dave another chance, and, in the interests of reviewing accurately, a few more chances too. But as with dates, I should've trusted my gut instinct rather than give into eternal optimism. Dave Derby is still a frog and won't turn into a prince no matter how many times you kiss or listen to him.

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7th May 2007 - 4 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Plate Six

Battle Hymns For A New Republic

One Little Indian

This is more like it.  In these hostile times, with the man who gives monkeys a bad name hovering his unopposable thumb over the button, you’d have thought there would be more anger and aggression coming to the musical fore.  Sure, there have been numerous songs of discontent, but in lacking an edge they come across as a slow-handclap from  the W.I.  To be honest I don’t even know if Alabama’s Plate Six are pissed off with señor Bush per se - but they are damned pissed about something.  Their record is called Battle Hymns For A New Republic, a manifesto backed up by their music; music at the frontline, heavily armed with sonic molotovs.

It comes as no surprise that they are inspired by Fugazi.  After a 50 second opening of feedback (buckle up kids), singer David Hickox’s call-to-arms shout on As The Pinson Turns is eerily similar to Fugazi front man Ian Mackaye - and yes, Plate Six are worthy of being mentioned in the same snarl as the DC legends.  Deeming a bassist unnecessary, Hickox, fellow guitarist Darryl Jacks and drummer Brad Davis rip through 11 tracks without letting the pace slack, closing with the 11 minute epic Maximalist Anthem.  It’s powerful, adrenalin charged stuff - but not just for the sake of it. The interplay between the two guitars and the excellence of the drumming gives each tune it's individual hook.

Along with Fugazi, Plate Six cite the wandering guitar work of Polvo and the noise and chaos of Sonic Youth as influences. They also remind me of another of my Hall-of-Famers, At The Drive In - who could do pissed-off better than anyone.  Don’t get me wrong, a lot of music out at the moment is nice enough, but maybe too nice - the aural equivalent of sticking your head in the sand.  Battle Hymns For A New Republic grabs your head out of the sand, shakes it by the ears and gets your hearts and minds rocking hard.

Watch the video for Instant Fence: Windows / Quicktime

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1st May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Feist

The Reminder

Universal

You may not have heard of Leslie Feist, but you will have undoubtedly heard her in one form or another. A chameleon of the indie world, her file is about an inch thick - ranging from a stint as Peaches flat mate, through collaborations with Gonzales and Jamie Lidell to her most recognised role as a contributor to the sprawling Canadian folk collective Broken Social Scene.

With new album The Reminder, Feist is setting out on her own for the third time - although even with some major label backing things haven't solidified any more. The slightly schizophrenic style of this multi-tasker is still the main way of describing her sound (Pitchfork described it as "folky, discoy" - but even that barely scratches the surface). Slipping between heartbreaking vocals (The Park), haunting piano (The Water), and a couple of Róisín Murphy style indie-dance (some might say folky-discoy) numbers in the shape of Sealion and the slightly more focused stand-out track, single My Moon My Man.

Acoustic guitars and hand claps dominate Past In Present, which somehow reminds me of Boys Of Summer in the best possible way. "Don't look back, you can never look back!"  When the dust settles however It's the sparse vocal tracks that really grab the attention here, and when the mood catches you this can be an enchanting album - with album closer How My Heart Behaves stealing the show (...not including the pointless 'bonus track' a live version of one we heard about 5 minutes ago - why do they bother breaking up the flow of an album with these things?).


You can check out three 'webisodes' for the album at the links below:

The Water
The Park
My Moon My Man

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27th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Loney, Dear

Loney, Noir

Regal

It seems like only yesterday that Emil Svanangen aka Loney, Dear first took my ears gently in his hands and whispered his sweet words of quiet and unassuming beauty. Well, he's back to do it all again with a re-issue of his 2005 self-released fourth album Loney, Noir. Made around the same time as last years Sologne this new release provides more of the same. Gently uplifting ditties that skip along playfully to washes of synths, tinkering percussion, rising drums and Svanangen's now familiar vocal tones that can tip toe with delicate grace or rise to soaring falsetto at a moments notice.

Sinister In A State Of Hope takes our hand and leads us gently into this album. "All I want is a state of hope," he confesses here and from this sublime introduction he seems ever nearer to his goal. I Am John picks things up nicely and soon builds to a crescendo of just about every instrument to hand. This leads on perfectly to one of the many highlight moments on this record. Saturday Waits basically does the same as all the others, but somehow seems to raise the bar on hands-in-the-air satisfaction. On I Am The Odd One Svanangen claims "I turned the right to wrong// I came along, I brought the shade," Well tell that to my hands that have been raised skyward for so long they are going numb. This satisfaction rarely fades throughout the course of the album until we are eased out by the final two tracks that take on a more contemplative mood.

Having said all that, there is something missing here that I can't quite put my finger on but it has something to do with familiarity. I can't tell whether this record isn't as good as Sologne or Loney, Dear's spell is too much a part of my life now. After all, the warmth of the sun's rays aren't quite so comforting the more you feel them. Loney, Noir doesn't move things on from Sologne and that will be my only complaint. It seems silly to criticise this guy for providing us with more absolute bliss but I am sure he has more up his sleeve. I will undoubtedly listen to this album, along with Sologne, for as long as I feel the need for hope, warmth and sensitivity but for now I am allowing room for improvement.

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23rd Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Spider-Man 3

(dir. Sam Raimi)

in which spidey channels his inner goth, goes a bit emo, battles sandman, venom and the green goblin and the film turns into chicago for a while before sinking into another dreary big battle.

where the first spider-man did an ok job of showing how a nerd like peter parker would learn to love his powers, this one sinks under the 2 villains/girlfriend angst/oh the trouble w being a freelance photographer formula that the second established. lots more cgi fights filled w maximum confusion and zero sense of peril - like all the new gen star wars battles, you just can't work out what's going on/where they are/what way up anyone is etc half the time.

it's also part of the annoying recent trend for making loooooong films where not much happens - and what does, is full of holes. they put on a parade for spidey to give him the keys to the city - but how have they got in touch with him? there's no spidey phone or spidey signal! they clearly aren't just hoping he'll swing by because they've worked out a coordinated little routine for him - but when was that supposed to have been organised?

then there's some daft bit where harry "son of green goblin" osborn gets mj to dump PP so he can get him where it hurts (ooh, in his sensitive heart) - but you've got no idea why she's going along w it - is he threatening her? is she into gg instead? it's all just left hanging, like they didn't have time to explain it - except, they do - they've got 156 min!!!

thomas "sideways" haydn church is sandman, another loser crim who's got the misfortune of stumbling across a random weird science experiment in the middle of some marshes somewhere and inadvertently gaining some powers. but we don't even get to find out who these scientists are or what they think they're doing. it's just, er, yeah, he's got blasted with some stuff, and, er, now he's sandman.

on the plus side, sam raimi main man bruce "evil dead" campbell's cameo is pretty funny, and the bits with daily bugle boss J Jonah Jameson all work. the bit where peter goes all emo side by brushing his hair to the side in the style of my chemical romance is fairly amusing too.

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19th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Arctic Monkeys

Astoria, London

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#Gig
#Muxloe

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

The Fucking Champs

VI

Drag City

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

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

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

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

#Music
#chimpovich

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

DJ Food & DK

Now, Listen Again

Ninja Tune

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#BC

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

Frightened Rabbit

Sing The Greys

Hits The Fan

Anyone bored to tears with the endless torrent of over styled, pretentious, skinny jeans-wearing, soulless post-dance-punk-disco freak-pop bullshit that dominates British music occasionally then this is for you. Glasgow trio Frightened Rabbit make simple, down-to-earth indie rock and it's great. Sing The Greys is their first full length and it's full of jangly guitars, heartfelt vocals, intelligent lyrics and everything else that makes for a good record these days. They're not aiming for grandeur or to change your life, they're just writing songs "about the same things that everyone does:- heartache, blood donation and fucking."

Sounding at times like a scottish Oxford Collapse, Sing The Greys aims very much to sing the blues. It paints a pretty bleak picture at times about the general demise of relationships, but it's hard to follow them down this well of self pity when the music is this honest and this satisfying. To quote their website, "All that we hope is that our songs creep into your head and emerge from your lips next time you decide to whistle." Sorry lads, but I can't whistle, it's a handicap - but i'll be sure to sing the greys.

#Music
#BC

30th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Windmill

Puddle City Racing Lights

2007

Judging by the longest losing streak in betting history Grandma Muxloe’s tealeaf reading powers of prediction seemed to have passed me by. Future forecasts are not my strong point.  But I can already guess with confidence your first two thoughts on listening to Puddle City Racing Lights, the debut album from Windmill.  

First up will be the question ‘haven’t we already heard this before?’  You might wonder if this is perhaps an album mislaid by Mercury Rev at some time after Deserters Songs but just before they lost themselves in a haze of pomposity.  Or maybe you’ll think to yourself  ‘cunning, this boy Windmill stumbled on a stash of out-takes from Neil Young’s After the Gold Rush sessions and has added some 21st century beats to pass them off as his own’.

Secondly you’ll have to make a decision on Windmill’s voice.  It’s a transatlantic lilt, failing to reflect his Welsh origins, which is delivered in a pitch which some might laud as ‘soaring’ but others might deride as ‘grating’.  Its not one for the tabloids to seize on in the manner with which they ripped apart Joss Stone for dropping Devon in favour of LA but it might strike you Indie kids as being an indicator of a possible lack of veracity in Windmill’s credentials.

On both counts my advice would be to ‘get over it’.  Sure, Windmill has worked with a template laid out before but give him a chance because he’s added splashes of new colour to bring it all to life once more. It's like Warhol screen-printing over familiar images – they might be the same but they are also so very different.  As to the voice, it may be an acquired taste but it shouldn’t be enough to put you off.  If it does then you lose out in the way that you would if you turned down Sienna Miller or Daniel Craig (depending on your preference - Muxloe is an equally opportunities reviewer after all) on the basis that you don’t usually go for blondes  - some people will just never be satisfied.

Rather than set his sails to capture breezes blowing down from Liverpool and Manchester or gusts up from Bristol and London, Windmill has unashamedly located his mill facing westward to America.  But that’s no bad thing as the winds whipped up across the Pond have provided more than enough energy and ideas to power a dynamo of a debut album.  The key to his appeal is that, admirably backed by The Earlies live band, he has created sound-scapes so vivid that they suck you right in.  It’s not so much like watching a film but more like slipping on a virtual reality headset.  By the time the album finished I needed to be reminded that I wasn’t actual an asthmatic Model’s Agent caught up in a Tokyo car crash. Big things, and even Mercury Prizes, have been predicted for Windmill.  I’ve checked the tea leaves but have not the faintest clue what they foretell so will not be joining some of these wilder soothsayers.  All I will say is that the boy Windmill has made a cracking start and deserves whatever plaudits come his way.

#Music
#Muxloe

25th Mar 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Victor Bermon

Arriving At Night

Hefty

After a full on evening of five-a-side football on a ruddy cold March night, this album managed to find itself warming my cockles, and more to the point relaxing me enough to wind down within about four tracks. It opens with the pleasant Farewell Lunch For Laura which has a slightly smoky jazz orientation with minute snippets of a soft Coltrane sounding sax sample. Victor Bermon's Arriving At Night is aptly titled, as it's one of those ambient albums that many folk will encounter for the first time after a slammin' night, having gone back to someone's house in order to relax some. It's essentially a collection of bright melodic soundscapes incorporating some loosely plucky acoustic guitar and other string instruments, dreamy Rhodesy type Vibraphone sounds and drifting jazzy rhythms. There's actually something a bit TV or film soundtrack sounding about this whole album, and in fact the track Famous Discussion kind of reminded me slightly of the delightful theme music to BBC2's Arena programme.

Photographs Are Not Memories is about as rocking as it gets which is track 3, having thought it was track 2 until I double checked so that may give you the idea of how this album blends together somewhat. In fact if anything it does tend to sound a tad samey but then personally I find most albums in this ambient vein tend to.

This is Victor Bermon's debut album for Hefty Records. Don't rely on it to get you up and out of bed in the morning but it's warm and optimistic. You could certainly do worse than finding this as the soundtrack to your nocturnal arrival at a foreign destination

#Music
#UncleG

25th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Love Of Diagrams

Mosaic

Matador

Olé! Matador do it again. Since its formation in 1989, the New York label has maintained its position as one of the main players in Independent underground garage rock n roll whatever you want to call it. Such luminaries as Superchunk, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and Pavement have passed through their doors and now, as the good music revolution version 3.0 keeps on rocking, they show no sign of dropping the ball.

Hot on the heels of the fantastic album by The Ponys, Matador have now added Melbourne 3 piece Love of Diagrams to the stable. As CSF has already posted, they are probably tired of the Gang of Four comparisons, so I won’t tire them further with that one. But there is no getting away from their stripped down sound of driving bass, urgent drums and sparse, reverbed guitars underneath it all, with Guitarist Luke Horton and Bassist Antonia Sellbach sharing call and response vocal duties. But this economy of parts does not sacrifice the whole; as smalltown butchers once said (before getting swamped by Major Label, Tesco) whilst extolling the virtues of a particularly fine piece of meat “Look at That. Not a bit of waste on it.”

And they waste no time in kicking off the album, Form and Function is a 90 mph statement of intent, Sellbach and Horton’s dual vocals recalling Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth. The next few tracks continue in the same urgent vain, before they treat us to an interlude with the track ’Interlude’ - a nice and moody bass heavy instrumental, which shows they aren’t mere one-trick ponies - it reminds me of how fugazi used instrumentals to break up an album and take a breather. The next track Ms V. Export, is one of the strongest, Sellbach’s chantlike vocals take sidestage to her bass that practically eats up everything else around it.

Pretty much every press release that accompanies the latest hot new group, comes with the promise of incendiary live shows. The energy of the songs alone, makes me think that Love of Diagrams, wouldn’t disappoint on that front. However, until they are passing through your town - give some love of your own and get hold of this record.

#Music
#chimpovich

21st Mar 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Clark

Ted EP

Warp Records

Warp’s press release would have you believe this latest offering from Clark is “astonishing, spectacular, and unpredictable", which it arguably is - though the 6 fairly short tracks left me slightly disappointed and wanting more. Alongside this audio release is apparently a ¨sinisterly engrossing¨ video, but without having the privilege of seeing it I felt I was only getting half of the experience (You can now see it here).  The tracks are cleverly put together with a myriad of beautiful richly textured sounds. The EP has a very narrative feel but really does sound like the soundtrack to a film. The stand out track is Bibio’s remix of title track Ted, reminiscent of the otherworldly Durutti Column - easy to see why Boards of Canada are amongst his fans.

I would probably only add this to my collection if I had the vdu on all the time when I played music for the full experience, if I owned a really trendy clothes shop that I could play it in, or was an Elevator DJ.

Clark will be embarking on a grand UK and European tour between February and April 07 and if Warp sends me some tickets for this I would gladly go as I think the whole show opposed to just the audio would be all the things that the press release says this EP should have been.

#Music
#AH

13th Mar 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Patrick Wolf

The Magic Position

Polydor

Opening with a veritable cascade of drums that would put Collins to shame (Phil not Jackie) I thought I was about to witness hordes of screaming crazed Roundheads charging the Cavaliers in the opening of some period war film. Then in come the even more epic, but beautifully scored strings in what turns out to be a great opening track, Overture. Having not heard any Patrick Wolf before I found myself slightly miffed that I'd missed out. He's quite clever you know, apparently he built a Theremin when he was barely in his teens. Shame I couldn't spot any on this album (but then I'm deaf as a post so wouldn't anyway). Based a lot around the piano and some stirring string arrangements, the sound of this album benefits from lots of experimentation with dirty analogue sounds and the occasional senseless dark brain-bleeding noise. However with a strong voice that is often lacking up against such a distinct and full sound such as this the whole album comes together nicely. It certainly makes for a much better soundtrack to that new series with Ray Liotta on Channel Five.

At times the young 23 year old songwriter reminded me vocally of a cross between that bloke from Divine Comedy and Edwyn Collins but with more of a wryness about him. I'd certainly like to see how he gets his girl into The Magic Position whilst singing in the major key. I liked the one with the firework sounds, Bluebells and then hark, is that the voice of Marianne Faithfull I hear on the beautiful piano and violin piece that is Magpie? Holy Sheet what a coup, this guy obviously has some noteworthy fans, if you're interested, Edward Larrikin appears on Accident and Emergency.

It's not a dance floor filler but overall I enjoyed this album, despite Get Lost starting with the sound of my alarm clock going off before turning into a summery guitary, synthy, happy lets-go-have-some-carefree-fun number. I bet that Mika bloke would love to be as good as Patrick Wolf.

#Music
#UncleG

8th Mar 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Busdriver

RoadKillOvercoat

Epitaph

The problem with being the hip hop reviewer for a white, middle class indie rock website is that you don't tend to get much work. Sure, I get paid the same as the other chimps, but you can often find me in the canteen here at Chimp Towers sippin' on a 40' with my feet up - waiting for a beep on my pager from CSF to tell me he's got something for me. Long days amble by and the odd thugged-out dick rap record comes and goes but in the words of Ice T " I don't play that shit." I took this job for the cause. Hip Hop has the potential to be the most exciting and creatively diverse genres of them all - it doesn't have the boundaries that others suffer from, it goes where it pleases or at least it should.

So one lazy afternoon after finishing my fourth brewski, I was thinking of popping out for some more cigar papers to escape the accusing glares of the dinner ladies (I had just been crunking furiously while shouting " Errr' body in the club gettin' tipsy,")  when my pager goes buck-wild. "Busdriver, WTF?" was all it said. At first I thought it was my editor wanting me to drive the Chimpmobile on another day trip - but then remembered the new album RoadKillOvercoat by the LA tongue twisting lyricist. Finally a real job. Busdriver's previous albums for Big Dada were like no other. He's the gatling gun of the hip hop world, delivering intricately constructed raps with rapid-fire dexterity. This was gonna be good - something proper to get my teeth into, but damn, I was hella' drunk.

From the outset the signs were all there that this was going to be a treat. Casting Agents And Cowgirls sees Busdriver fit his rhymes expertly round a a tight beat which prepares us well for the machine gun onslaught of Less Yes's, More No's. Rhyming "Soccer Moms" with " Carpet Bombs," this track is about lyrical muscle flexing, as is the next installment where we're told, "Recreational paranoia is the sport of now so kill your employer." You can almost imagine the speed of the little ball bouncing over these words at the bottom of a Karaoke screen.

And so it continues, but once you reach mid point you are thrilled but starting to map out the rest of the record. This is where this album becomes a great hip hop record. With Sun Shower, Busdriver plays his hip hop ace card - he reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a fully credible license to do what the fuck he wants. All hip hop cats have this license, but few know it. After dazzling us with lyrical acrobatics the dude starts singing. Yes singing. His floaty vocals drift effortlessly over a minimal, deep techno beat and if you thought this was just an interlude, the next track sees Busdriver duet with Coco Rosie's Bianca Cassidy. My editors pager words echoed in my head "Busdriver, What The Fuck?" indeed. The Troglodyte Wins restores the hip hop factory settings but they sound fresher now. The beats are gloriously tight, the rhymes even more thrilling and they see us through to the end where we get yet more of that singing stuff, and there's even an acoustic guitar on blissful closer Dream Catcher's Mitt.

This kind of thing makes my days in the canteen gettin' tipsy worthwhile. It's clever, but not anally so and Busdriver has cultivated a refreshing blend of fiercely intelligent poetry with the playful humour of his earlier work. Since the demise of Blackalicious the cause needs rhymes of this agility - and Busdriver carries the torch to new heights, skillfully avoiding the pitfall of cliche with a style such as his. RoadKillOvercoat is an album that delights the same way anything by Buck 65 or Dose One would and it does what hip hop set out to do. What ever the fuck it wants.

#Music
#HHG

1st Mar 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet