Chimpomatic

Various Artists

Rough Trade Shops - Counter Culture 07

Counter Culture Records

In this new dawn of flagging record sales and mass closures of your favorite music shops it seemed a strange time for Rough Trade to expand its empire and open the impressive uber-shop that is Rough Trade East, but I guess if anyone can do it thy can and now that it has its own cafe at the front this new Counter Culture compilation is what you'd likely endure if you closed your office for a day and set up camp in the Rough Trade cafe. Needless to say it wouldn't all be what you were looking for. Having ditched the assistance of some of the major labels that aided the release of the previous Counter Culture series this one has been put together independently by the Rough Trade shops themselves. This is quite evident from the tracklist as some of the selections you just know are the choices of a minority nerd group that really doesn't give a monkeys if the customers don't like it, they're ignorant so why should they be trusted? But then there are some really big hitters that never fail to deliver.

Over the years I have often used these Rough Trade compilations as a way of discovering new musical territory previously untrodden by my delicate and sheltered ears. I first came across Sufjan Stevens on a Counter Culture CD and have looked forward to similar discoveries ever since. Though expertly compiled and a darn good listen throughout this outing unfortunately serves up little in the way of surprises. A quick glance at the tracklist will hint at some immediate stand out moments of last year like Battles' unrivaled and mighty Atlas or Of Montreal's avant-pop gem Gronlandic Edit. Pete And The Pirates provide some ramshackled indie-punk magic from their album Little Death with Come On Feet and Dan Deacon's d.i.y roadrunner-rave is perfectly expressed in The Crystal Cat. But at a glance I would have expected these to be some obvious high points and was slightly disappointed not to be proved wrong. There were exceptions however with Julian Cope and the dirty rock tornado of No Age pricking up my ears but the prize would have to go to Dan Le Sac Versus Scroobius Pip for Thou Shalt Always Kill. This is a razor-sharp pop-culture critique that providing you can keep up is a lesson to us all. Lessons like never to question Steven Fry or watch Hollyoaks are of course a given but the line, "Thou shalt not judge a book by its cover, thou shalt not judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover," is really something else.

So as the stand out song on this exceedingly mixed bag its wisdom casts a new light on the compilation itself. After being told repeatedly not set up bands as false idols and to think for yourselves you do start to look over these choices as just someone's opinion. But on a brighter note the whole thing comes impeccably presented in a 2 CD set with 20 page colour fold-out booklet and full sleeve notes and just serves to prove that the supposedly lifeless corpse of the record shop has some breath left in it after all.

#Music
#BC

29th Jan 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Lightspeed Champion

Falling Off The Lavender Bridge

Domino

Bloody January. It's just a slog, isn't it? The country shrugs its shoulders and goes back to work with a resigned collective grumble, coz evyone knows that the weather will be shit, and that nothing good ever really happens in January. Trudge on through and expect very little. And it was with that open minded attitude that I approached my first two reviews of the year.

Knowing nothing whatsoever about Lightspeed Champion, this album came as an unexpected pleasure. The main man at work here is Devonte Hynes - US born and UK raised, his music has been categorised as "Indie Folk" which could go some way to putting off prospective purchasers who only browse by genre.

But Indie Folk it is - and the good thing is that it takes the good bits from both, and of course ends up being something outside of either. The songs appear to be simple at first, but reveal themselves as something more almost straight away. Songs which could have become 3-chord campfire throwaways are rescued with subtly shifting chords and great instrumentation which puts me in mind of Pretzel Logic era Steely Dan. There are some beautifully restrained string arrangements and lovely touches of steel guitar.

Lyrically, Hynes explores dark territories yet delivers his message in an undepressing way, despite the shock of hearing harsh words in the gentle music. The songs keep surprising - starting out straightforward, but often avoiding conventional structure. No regular verse-chorus-verse-chorus stuff here. The track I really loved was Salty Water, in which Hynes creates a rolling backwash tidalwave with his voice as a perfect accompaniment to the lyrics of rapturous drowning. Personally, I think this music is at its best when Hynes lets go a bit with his voice - sometimes the flat-wovelled estuary drawl veers a little too close to Billy Bragg for my ears, but there's so much more to like about this record that this is easily forgotten. It's not just a collection of songs, it's a real album...and an artist to watch out for.

#Music
#HarrisPilton

21st Jan 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Aidan John Moffat

I Can Hear Your Heart

Chemikal Underground

‘Fuck.. Cock.. Shag.. Willie’; it’s all there in ‘I can hear your heart’.  A fine distillation of the Scottish lexicon or, alternatively, the Scot’s default reaction to life; swearing.

After Moffat’s introductory voice over, explaining the concept behind the two-part album, ‘Poop’ and ‘Loop’ [Poop, a short story and Loop?????], it all starts ominously enough.  A growling voice intoning, ‘I can hear your heart’, which a first listen had me convinced was saying; ‘I can hear you fuck’.

My mishearing turned out to be a premonition of what was to come.  A kind colleague suggested playing the album over dinner with my girlfriend, an experience I will not be repeating.  I don’t know which level of hell Moffat will be consigned to after this album, but I guess he’ll be nursing a few exotic STDs amidst the flames; Think of Tom Waits crossed with Rab C Nesbitt and Michael Douglas.  Pre the treatment he received for his addiction to sex.

It’s not entirely accurate to call this an album, more a collection of poems, accompanied by music.  And it’s not entirely accurate to evoke the traditional idea of poems either when what we’re dealing with is a kind of urban ode to casual sex and squalid romance.  Moffat is the inebriated protagonist, guiding us across the streets of a Glasgow slicked in alcohol.  There’s (frequent) cheating on his girlfriends; borderline sex with a minor; bagpipes; music hall sing-alongs and collapsed nights in bus shelters.  There are threesomes; dirty panties: prank phone-calls and an expose of racist abuse.  Involving a lot of racist abuse.  It ain’t pretty.  In fact, like last night’s dirty ashtray, I don’t see myself returning to this collection enthusiastically. 

On the other hand it is occasionally very funny, structurally imaginative and the orchestral sampling is often mesemeric in a manner reminiscent of Moffat’s alter ego, Lucky Pierre.  These gentle musical themes make a poignant contrast to Moffat’s potty mouth as he mournfully lists last night’s soiled conquests and there are glimpses of real tenderness and loss gleaming amidst the horrors of his tale.

Overall it’s a nihilistic experience.  When Moffat finds himself doing a lugubrious cover of Springsteen’s ‘A Hungry Heart’, you are glad of the musical coherence.  But it didn’t leave me begging for more.

Three stars?  Again?  For swearing.  Three stars for swearing.

#Music
#LG

14th Jan 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Torchwood

Season 2 Episode 1

Didn't really get into the first series of Torchwood - have to admit, Doctor Who's passed me by for the most part, so a spin-off didn't really excite that much. And the ones I watched felt like they were relying too much on the ooh! shock! factor with their swearing/snogging and not enough on either the sci-fi or characters to make it work.

Maybe my expectations were lowered, but the first ep of the second series (on BBC2 Jan 16) is a big improvement on what I've seen before. It's snappier, tighter, and feels like they've listened to the critics and tried to fix the problems. You've still got a Cardiff that's pretty much empty, and the odd shot of Cap'n Jack jumping up on a rooftop (a character trait they point out) and some of the trademark polysexual kissing. But on the other hand, they've drafted in James Marsters - Spike from the mighty Buffy.

Now, it may be that it all goes down the pan again further on in the series when he's not around to beat the crap out of Jack, but it's a pretty inspired cameo, even if he is basically playing the very Spike-like "rogue Time Agent Captain John Hart". He's got real presence, and has obviously got used to delivering lines about odd creatures and made-up fantasy blah with real intensity over the years. He also looks a bit like one of Adam's Ants, circa Kings Of The Wild Frontier.

They also cram in some Star Wars references, a nice "where are the blondes on your team?" Buffy gag, and even almost get you to forget all those annoying appearances from Barrowman on Strictly Come Dancing, Jonathan Ross and BBC Breakfast etc.

Am all in favour of the BBC working on new genre pieces like this, and do think the return of the Who enterprise has on the whole been a good thing - even if it's really more of a teatime kids treat than the multi-level fun that US shows like Buffy managed to create. Hope it continues to get better from here - Captain Spike is back for a few more eps, along w Alan "Jim from Neighbours" and Martha from the Tardis later on.

#TV
#chimp71

4th Jan 2008 - 7 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Shadow In The North

BBC1

The BBC continues their adaptation of Philip Pullman's Sally Lockhart series with this follow-up to last year's The Ruby In The Smoke.

It's another enjoyable Victorian mystery, with Billie Piper's Lockhart on the trail of a dastardly Scandinavian villain (Jared Harris) and his steam-powered weapon of mass destruction, the Hopkinson Self-Regulator.

Like Ruby, this plays out like a modern version of classic BBC kids' viewing like The Phoenix And The Carpet - taking itself just seriously enough to convince, but still having an edge of campy pantomime twinkle-in-the-eye humour: pretty decent family viewing all-round really.

No-one to match Julie Walter's turn last time, but there's a enjoyable cast including JJ Feild, Julian Rhind-Tutt, Matt Smith, John Standing and Hayley Atwell.

Apparently it was shot at the same time as the last one, so it'll be interesting to see if they're able to get Billie P back for more now that she's signed up for another series of Secret Diary Of A Call Girl and will be back in next year's Doctor Who at some stage.

#TV
#chimp71

30th Dec 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Bruce Springsteen

O2 Arena

I was not without trepidation approaching this show. Springsteen has been top of my “most wanted gigs” list for longer than I care to remember. A bit like a kid who has been saving his pocket money for months, when it came to the crunch did I have the guts to go through with it? What if it couldn’t match my expectations?

Three tracks in and all fears had been completely dispelled. The opening chords of Radio Nowhere, from this year’s album Magic, made the hairs on 20,000 necks stand sky high. No Surrender and Night quickly followed and then he spoke for the first time. “Hello London. This is a really big building…but that’s okay…cause we’re the big building killers” And he was right. Despite the size of the show, both Springsteen and the E Street Band pulsated with the raw energy you imagine they had back in New Jersey 30 years ago. The political fervour from that era is also still there, denouncing the current US administration in the lead in to Magic “Its not Magic. It’s tricks”

It speaks volumes for an artist who has been recording and producing this long that half the show was made up of tracks written and released this side of the millennium. Magic and 2002’s The Rising produced songs that were as well received as all the classics we had come to hear.

The tempo of the night was perfect as we were taken up and down at all the right moments, never tired of rocking, or weary of some truly moving ballads. Racing in The Street was a particular highlight, with rasping vocals over Roy Bittan’s piano. The main performance closed with a rousing Badlands with the entire audience calling out the background vocal.

So to the encore, with a plethora of some of the best hits still not heard. It was Jungleland that raised the bar again. Piano leading the whole band into a mass of power and expression on stage with Clarence Clemons’s incredible saxophone. And then more, Born to Run, Dancing in the Dark, and American Land. Finally, Christmas hats were thrown on stage from the audience for Santa Claus Is Coming to Town. We felt like he'd already arrived.

#Music
#Gig
#CJ

20th Dec 2007 - 5 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Best of 2007

HHG

It's been a good year for Hip Hop I'd say. The head to head of two heavyweights, Kanye West and 50 Cent, was entertaining. Fiddy claimed he'd retire if West's Graduation topped his. Seeing as it smashed the pants off Curtis, keep an eye out in a charity shop near you for 50 doing volunteer work. The Beastie Boys released a curious instrumental album, but rocked Brixton like it was 1987, then just as you thought the year was over the mighty Wu-Tang do a Spice Girls and reform with awesome results. As usual though it was the underground scene (if there still is one) that really inspired.

Aesop Rock - None Shall Pass
Probably his most approachable yet, but uncompromising none the less. Album of the year.

Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams
Six years since 36 Chambers and the Clan return with a deeper, darker and superior  slice of Wu wizardry.

Sage Francis - Human The Death Dance
Not quite as dazzling as some of his other work but Sage continues to pull away from the crowd of wack MC's in his wake.
  
Busdriver - Roadkillovercoat
This will piss off a few hardcore fans but Busdriver's slight step away from the relentless word assault has created some of his best moments here.

El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead
A worthy follow up to Fantastic Damage, fast, furious and relentless.

Songs
Aesop Rock - Coffee
Jay-Z - Hello Brooklyn
Wu-Tang Clan - Unpredictable
Timbaland - Oh Timbaland
Sage Francis - Hell Of A Year

Gigs
Beastie Boys - Brixton Academy
El-P - Dingwalls
Cadence Weapon - Amersham Arms

#Music
#HHG

18th Dec 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wu-Tang Clan

8 Diagrams

Bodog

Six years on and one Dirty Bastard down and the Clan are back. 8 Diagrams, Wu-Tang Clan's 5th studio album was long in the making and comes with the expected dose of controversy and talking points you'd imagine from this group. Leading up to the release of 8 Diagrams Raekwon stirred things up with a much publicised interview where he openly critisised producer RZA for the direction he was taking the group and accused him of being a "hip-hop hippie." Then like a bunch of bickering little girls Ghostface Killah weighed in protesting the timing of the record which was due to be released at the same time as his own The Big Doe Rehab. It's clear from the first listen of this record that Raekwon and Ghostface Killah don't know shit. RZA might have taken the Wu sound in a more subtle direction but in doing so he's created one of the hip-hop albums of the year.

Since their first release Enter The Wu (36 Chambers) way back in 1993, The Wu Tang Clan quickly established their own unique sound and all the many solo projects that followed have only served to elaborate on this. RZA, with his fingers in many pies would never have been content to continue this progression so despite the twittering of a few back-benchers he's rejected the hard-hitting beats of old and painstakingly crafted a record dripping in mood. It's a dark, reflective and densely produced piece of work that uses strings, guitar, live instrumentation and more soul vocals than ever before. It has no clear single and will alienate many die hard Wu fans but RZA's new, introvert style of sound provides richer pastures for his band of merry MC's.

Campfire kicks things off with a beat that oozes through your speakers like molasses, while Get Them Out The Way Pa is smoother than any Wu sound you've heard. This easing off the heavy beat pedal doesn't soften the impact that this group have been keen to cultivate but lets it sink in slower and more profoundly than before. The thick, plodding beats and rich instrumentation shifts the emphasis away from violence to menace and fear. So when the big guns do come out they are sharper than ever. Rushing Elephants and Unpredictable are the proud figureheads of this record and inject a sense of urgency with their apocalyptic beats and epic heist-movie horns. The production goes from minimal to claustrophobically complex and the MC's raise the tempo with furious spitting. Unfortunately this tempo is not maintained and throughout the middle section you start to think that maybe RZA's critics had a point. The beats start to go from brooding to just plain soft and the focus on melody and singing comes dangerously close to diluting the Wu ethos. Gun Will Go embodies this perfectly - it counts itself in with a rhythm that promises greatness then is smoothed over with soft melody and the`tantalisingly old school snare simply fades away.

Thankfully, RZA is anything but self indulgent and always has a plan. He cleverly manages to steer his crew out of this slow patch and they emerge triumphant, in fact he starts by going solo over a slow jazz background in Sunshine then continues to bring this album back to the dark side with steady cuts like Weak Spot and and Tar Pit. The late O.D.B's presence is definitely felt on this record with the tribute song Life Changes and the closing track 16th Chamber.

8 Diagrams is certainly not what you'd expect from a group such as this after a 6 year absence but who needs another thugged-out beat-fest? These guys created this genre so who better to lead us out of it into a new dawn? Thankfully this is no sunrise and the gloom still hangs heavy over Clan territory. 8 Diagrams might not be as head on as albums like 36 Chambers, but it's weight will eventually seep through and it will, in time, emerge as one of the hip-hop albums of 2007.

#Music
#HHG

18th Dec 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Cadence Weapon

Amersham Arms, London

After the powerhouse album that was Breaking Kayfabe, Canadian MC Rollie Pemberton aka Cadence Weapon is set to release the follow-up early next year. So in anticipation we thought we'd catch him at this intimate venue for a few reasons. Firstly, his debut was so electrifying I was intrigued how it would translate live and secondly, the gig was in a pub round the corner from our South London Division and we'd probable be drinking in there anyway. Well, it was worth the 5 minutes walk. For the first few songs things looked like they were going from bad to worse as the crowd was slow to warm to this full-on assault of electro beats and intricate wordplay. But the sheer exuberance of Pemberton soon stopped the tongues wagging at the back and he had us in the palm of his hand.

Big hitters like Sharks and Black Hand from the debut came out at full force with Pemberton carrying himself more like a rock star, wielding his mic stand and shrieking into his fist. But it was cuts from the forthcoming Afterparty Babies that really rocked the house. His DJ was often allowed to take centre stage with his expert beat skills and the near-house beats that blasted out had the whole place bumping to his every move. With frequent spells into the centre of the crowd, this young MC was captivating to watch so much so that he was cheered back on stage for an encore where he delivered the awesome Oliver Square. His energy was unfailing and though I could have done with a bit more volume on his mic his blend of hard-as-hell electro beats and fierce yet acutely intelligent lyrics, not to mention a surprising cover of Joy Division's Isolation which made this Friday night in the pub a memorable one.

#Music
#Gig
#BC

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

Buck 65

Situation

Warner

Well now I'm confused. With 2003's seminal Talkin' Honky Blues Buck 65 kept one eye in the rear view mirror of hip hop and the other trained way ahead into a land only he knew about. This departure from his roots was reinforced on Secret House Against The World but for different reasons. On both albums he was infusing his rhyme style with heart wrenching folk fables and personal observations that rocketed him way beyond the grasp of hip hop. So now, with what I think is his 11th album, he seems to have come back home.

This statement is neither completely true nor a terrible thing but more a curious shift from the course he seemed to be heading. Situation is a concept album of sorts and this just adds to my confusion. The record is based around the many defining events of 1957, a date that Buck claims was the start of underground and independent culture and that 50 years on we are on the cusp of a similar renaissance. This in itself is an interesting concept but with his last 2 albums Buck seemed to be an artist that was leading the way in this renaissance but with this return to hip hop appears to be a safe step backwards. I know that the whole album is a glance back over the last 50 years but in following that concept so closely Situation can, at times sound like my dad complaining that things weren't like that in his day.

But I wouldn't want to labour the negative too much as this is still a great listen. The return to hip hop means Buck's trademark one-man-band scratches and cuts are faster than ever and the beats heavy and rapid. The homemade sound has been buffed up and the production is tight. Thematically, Situation sheds the autobiographical approach in favour of a more fictional storytelling. In many of the songs Buck vividly creates a myriad of strange characters that, in all their many guises, inhabit the dark and seedy world of 1957. Shutter Buggin' sees him as a sleazy and reluctant pornographer who's just in it for the cash while his vice-squad cop in Spread 'Em deals with the same low-life but from the other side.

Songs like Ho-Boys and The Beatific hark back to the Buck of recent past with their delicate piano melody and understated beats. His rhymes are masked in the regular abstract imagery here and fit better with his gruff delivery. This can be said for many of the songs throughout the second half of this record. It seems to settle into itself and not feel the need to hammer home the concept. These songs have more longevity due to their reluctance to give it all up at once. With Mr Nobody and the beautiful The Outskirts the tempo is brought right down and this is when I think Buck is at his strongest. His style suits a shuffling pace and coupled with the delicate guitar and saxophone he manages to create real melancholia and with it his 1957 concept seems all the more believable.

Buck 65 is undoubtedly one of the more interesting MC's around at the moment. His back catalogue shows clearly his ability to dazzle and surprise. He is capable of intricately weaving rhymes about an abusive father or the size of his manhood all in the same album but this is the first time such a defined structure has been imposed on his work. I am not sure it really works to the extent that it's meant to as the constant references to the past can sound tired and the whole back-in-the-day hip hop thing has a very short lifespan. But, as soon as the lines are blurred around this concept the record starts to come into its own. Situation is a collection of great songs and while it may not work as a whole it is as expertly crafted as you'd expect from an artist who has always been about a hip hop renaissance.

#Music
#HHG

21st Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Various Artists

I'm Not There [Music From The Motion Picture]

Columbia

As a soundtrack for his forthcoming Bob Dylan movie I'm Not There, director Todd Haynes has assembled an impressive array of musicians young and old to provide cover versions and re-workings of their favourite Dylan tracks.

Much like the Wylde Rattz project for Hayne's previous rock biopic Velvet Goldmine, supergroup "The Million Dollar Bashers" (featuring Lee Ranaldo, Steve Shelley, Nels Cline and Tom Verlaine among others) back many of the singers, and were put together to bring some cohesiveness to the album. As a cohesive album however, I'm Not There fails conclusively. Clocking in at a whopping 160 minutes, the jam-packed double CD is simply far too long - eclipsing the sprawling White Album and making Red Hot Chili Pepper's 2006 opus Stadium Arcadium seem like a couple of bonus tracks.

Taken as a collection of individual tracks however, the album provides a wealth of ammo for the mixtape masses with more than a few silver bullets in the arsenal. With such great material in the hands of these artists it would have been a tragedy for this album to be a faliure, but cover songs have always been a hit or miss affair - with the artists often taking one of two methods of attack when approaching the material. The most effective method here seems to be the straightforward approach, letting the bands own sound soak through the material. Sonic Youth's understated cover of I'm Not there is a highlight, as are Steven Malkmus' multiple contributions adding only a few restrained theatrics to produce some of his best work.

Black Keys provide one successful modernisation with their fuzz metal version of The Wicked Messenger, but The Hold Steady's version of Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window tries too hard to fit Dylan's square song into the band's story-telling style of a round hole. Not to mention Sufjan Steven's overblown theatrics, which make Ring Them Bells (what else?) smugly saccharine. Eddie Vedder's All Along The Watchtower would make for a live concert highlight, but it sounds pretty straightforward here  - as does Cat Power's solid, but karaoke-like cover of Stuck Inside of Mobile - following Dylan's version down to the tiniest vocal shift, in a way that even he refuses to do in his live show.

Some minor disappointments come from artists who have covered Dylan's work so well previously - such as Pearl Jam's version of Masters Of War or Jim James' superb Billy 4. Jim James covers Goin' To Acapulco on this album, which is a mild let-down when My Morning Jacket could have done a blistering version of something like Hurricane - particularly after they so perfectly blended their own heavy rocking style into Freebird in the woeful Elizabethtown movie.

For all of this, it's the breadth of Dylan's songwriting that is the star of the show - with 70's cowboy-era Dylan coming out particularly well. Calexico's multiple contribution's provide much of that, as do Los Lobos' spirited break for the border with Billy 1. It's when the musicians' really grasp the spirit of the songs that things really work - and while Cat Power's uninspired rendering illustrates Dylan's occasionally drawn out verses, John Doe's version of Pressing On and Ramblin' Jack Elliot's guitar picking on Tom Thumb's Blues provide a celebration of the music itself, rather than just the lyrics.

34 tracks picked from Dylan's catalogue of literally hundreds is in itself quite an achievement, resulting in an album so dense that it's taken me an extra week just to get to grips with it all. If it was actual Dylan versions it might be up their with Mothership in this year's best of (disqualified on a best-of technicality). And in fact, since hearing this album I have drawn up such a playlist, which is working out nicely.

#Music
#CSF

20th Nov 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Animal Collective

Strawberry Jam

Domino

Listening to Animal Collective records is akin to listening to the sounds inside the brain of a child genius who’s hopped up on a cocktail of Ritalin and Prozac and suffering all the known side effects of hyperactive paranoid neurosis. In a good way.

Weaved waves of hypnotic beats are mixed with samples and guitar loops to produce a sometimes awkward, but always interesting experimental sound. All this complimented by the brilliantly bonkers vocals of Avery Tare (supported by some beach boys-like harmonies). One moment singing melodically, then howling like a mad banshee - the innocence, intensity and soreness in the voice, while sounding like nothing else I’ve heard, fits the feel of the songs perfectly.

Listening to Animal Collective can sometimes be a bit challenging. The album opens with some awkward beats and crackles and beeps, but don’t be put off as everything comes together to produce a right rollicking song about monsters – Peacebone.  The stand out tracks on Strawberry Jam are Reverend Green and Fireworks. The former, it’s speculated, is about the things you see living in NYC and contains, I think, one of the best/funniest lines on the album: “Bulimic vegetarian wins weight contest”. The latter, I’m certain, is my current favourite song.

New York based Animal Collective - made up of Avey Tare, Panda Bear, Deakin and Geologist - all do their own stuff and all seem pretty prolific and I think this is their 8th long player together. (Panda Bear released a brilliant solo album earlier this year – Person Pitch – which is well worth a listen). Pound for pound, I’m not yet sure if Strawberry Jam is as good as their 2005 album Feels, but this is still a contender for album of the year if you ask me.

Listening to it I have to wonder how the bejesus they come up with such abstract ideas for their tunes. However, if they’re gonna keep on serving up delicious treats such as Strawberry Jam then I hope they keep taking the tablets.

#Music
#Locochimpo

10th Sep 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Broken Social Scene

Scala, London

Lynchpin of Canada's sprawling Broken Social Scene, described as indie's wu tang clan, Kevin Drew is a man who evidently has an aversion to pressure. In many ways this mindset has been the essence of the groups burgeoning reputation; but also perhaps provides an explanation as to why BSS have, thus far, failed to progress from a committed cult following and into the mainstream. The reluctance of Drew and co-founder Brendan Canning to seek the limelight is at the root of the collective's organic and diverse sound that invites contribution from a variety of Scene associates and members. BSS are a democracy of stars not a dictatorship or an autocracy. Shorn of the girls (Feist, Emily Haines and Amy Millan) and the brass 'blasters', tonight was very much the Drew show and initially suspicions were that he might not be able to step up to the plate.

Arriving on stage with one hand in his pocket and the other gripping a beer Drew made a little speech which reeked of 'getting excuses in early'. "Stop apologising" he was told by a particularly vocal heckler when observing that 'life is full of pressure. You get out of bed you feel pressure. You cook a meal you feel pressure. There's pressure to get the girl. There's pressure at work. So how about tonight we play free of pressure". Politely requesting the crowd's indulgence he explained the point of tonight's gig was to showcase and trial songs from the forthcoming album 'Broken Social Scene present's Kevin Drew's... Spirit if'. It wasn't the most auspicious start; akin to turning up to see your favourite footy team only to find out that some of the star names had been left on the bench and the rest would actually be playing rugby.

For a man with such a passionate fan base Drew's insecurity was surprising and as it turns out completely unfounded. As promised we were served up songs penned by Drew but interupted by seven of the Scene's stalwarts. Eschewing some of their tendencies towards ambience, balladry or electronica; opener 'Lucky Ones', with three guitars variously take the lead, was a statement of intent. Tonight was about rock. Continuing the earlier theme 'Farewell to the Pressure Kids' cranked up the volume before synth was finally allowed to rear it's head on 'Safety Grip'. Reviving previous obsessions with songs from love's outsiders the gig really kicked in with 'Too Beautiful to Fuck'; a tale of listening to people through hotel walls. Singalong for the fans came in the form of 'Backed Out on the Cocks' which the crowd enthusiastically embraced. Good as his word Drew continued to deliver more new tunes all of which showed potential. Much as it would be marvelous if it were otherwise it just can't be denied that nothing hits the spot in the same way as songs that have already been taken to the heart. After an hour or so the crowd were becoming slightly restless.

Buoyed by the mainly positive reception given to the new material the pressure now seemed to be off so that Drew and the boys began to relax. Rewarding the followers for their patience they stomped through 'Super-Connected'; just one of the winners the crowd had come in hope of hearing. Now on a roll 'Major Label Debut' was rattled through giving a delicate tune a new bouncy feel. Such was the reaction of the congregation to hearing the sermon that they'd yearned for from the cult leader there was still a nagging feeling that this was what the Broken Social scene can really deliver. There was a prevailing sense that tonight's show could have been something really special. Closing the set Drew was reconciled with his most fervent heckler inviting him onto the stage to waltz through the closing of 'Lover's Spit' a song so lush it could have filled the Royal Albert Hall several times over let alone a sweaty Scala. Revitalised by the crowd's enthusiasm for old favourites and now well and truly warmed up the Scene didn't want to vacate the stage but had to confess they had nothing more rehearsed. A quick conference was held to find out who knew how to play what while Brendan Canning stepped forward to point out; 'we're not going to cure any diseases tonight but we'll try to play you a song'. And what a song it was with 'Cause=Time' elevated to a tour de force.

All bode's well for the 'Spirit If' project and in fairness the Scala performance was a success but ultimately the sense was that this was a taster of what could have been. My own regret at illness forcing me to miss out on a performance last year of the whole BSS ensemble was only deepened. To slightly miss-paraphrase Smokey Robinson, sometimes a taste of honey can be worse than none at all.

#Music
#Gig
#Muxloe

10th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Beastie Boys

Brixton Academy, London

It's only until you see these guys live that you realise just how special they are. They've been around so long it's easy to forget or take for granted the reasons for being a fan. But last night it all came flooding back. There really is no one quite like them. As they waltzed effortlessly through a never ending back catalogue from punk gems like Heart Attack Man, Hip Hop classics like Shake Your Rump and their new instrumental jams you can't help to marvel at how they move from one genre to another maintaining full control and sincerity. They do it all and do it all better than most. Sporting cheap suits and shades and with the exception of a rather elderly looking MCA who stared longingly at his guitar during the hip hop numbers these guys never stopped moving and would run rings around most young bands now. Highlights were opener Time For Livin', So What'cha Want and the ferocious closer Sabotage featuring dare-devil stunts by Money Mark. Truly awesome.

BC - 4 Stars

Both they, and we are now a little older.  The granddaddies of hip-hop/rock/punk/lounge moved casually through the eras and the styles.  Not many acts could pull this off so casually and convincingly. Mix-Master Mike kept the classics interesting with his old-skool beats and occasional lyrical input.  Highlights: Brass Monkey, Shake Your Rump, and the mosh-pitt crowd coming out of retirement for finale Sabotage. I also felt that having heard the tracks live the latest offering The Mix Up is deserving of more attention.

CJ - 4 Stars

21 years since they first hit Brixton Academy, Raising Hell with Run DMC and getting the Sun readers all worked up about the possibility of their VW logos being liberated, the Beastie Boys (II Men) are back. New songs from this year's instrumental jam fest The Mix-Up work much better in the wider context of the BBCatalogue, breaking things up rather than sounding like they're just arsing around in the studio for a bit. Thought the sound was a bit woolly at times, with MCA's bass so distorted that it was on the verge of being some generic low rumble, rather than the kick-ass riff machine it should be, and Ad Rock's guitar a little lost too - Mike D's drums cut through with some pretty crisp beats though, holding down the fort, with Mix Master Mike's turtabletricknologismery pretty entertaining. Stand out tracks for me were Gratitude, Shake Your Rump(ah!), So What'cha Want, 3 MCs and Sabotage - think that's still in at least one version of my all-time top ten. Also amusing to see that Money Mark still jumps up and down on his keyboard exactly the same way he did last time I saw them back in 95 (Hong Kong Stadium, with Foo Fighters and Sonic Youth on the bill - that's a proper support act).

C71 - 3.5 Stars

I must admit I was slightly skeptical about this show. After easily being my favourite live band for many years, 1999's upgrade to Wembley Arena was very dissapointing - although to be fair it was the crowd that sucked not the band (too many fair weather Hello Nasty fans sitting not singing).

All that was quickly brushed aside here, as I couldn't have wished for a better start than Time For Livin' (although technically you could say Biz vs The Nuge was the real opener). Their was never a sign of age kicking in, other than their choice of suits. Mike D's reflections of playing Brixton in '86 ("Google that y'all") brought it all home - this is a band that has always moved forwards and kept things going in their own unique style.

Mix Master Mike has turned out to be the best signing the group ever made, and his constantly surprising beats and pieces constantly kept things fressssh. As a pure hip-hop band they have to be up at the top of the pile with their mic passing styles (So Watcha Want, Ch-Check It Out), but add a punk band (Heart Attack Man, Egg Raid On Mojo), a rock band (Sabotage, Gratitude) and some lounge jazz (Electric Worm, Live At P.J.'s) to the mix and this band is unsurpassable. Brilliant.

CSF - 4 Stars


Set List:
Mix Master Mike Intro
Time For Livin'
Gratitude
Off The Grid
Root Down
Super Disco Breakin'
Sure Shot
Shake Your Rump
Live At PJ's
Remote Control
Electric Worm
Lighten Up
Tough Guy
Brass Monkey
Pass The Mic
Flute Loop
Skills To PayThe Bills
Time To Get Ill
Son Of Neckbone
The Gala Event
Egg Raid On Mojo
Sabrosa
Alright Hear This
Ch-check It Out
Body Movin'
3 MC's
So What'cha want

Intergalactic
Heartattack man
Sabotag

#Music
#Gig
#Chimpomatic

6th Sep 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Prince

3121 - The O2

Another week, another legend at the O2.

Prince is one of those artists who's wandered so far from the stuff that got you into him in the first place, that you forget just quite how good you once thought he was. Yes, Guitar, the single off his new (Daily Mail giveaway) album is alright, but you'd be hard-pressed to come up with a solid hit from the last few.

Live though, he's a different proposition. He's sold out 21 nights at the O2 (aka the Dome), which is pretty phenomenal in itself. But that would mean 420,000 disappointed Prince fans if he wasn't still so utterly on top of his game.

After kindly showing us the UK Rock n Roll Hall of Fame round-up of his career (Prince - he's great! Who knew?!), Sunday's show launched straight into Musicology, which turned into a long funk jam, introducing Maceo Parker (JBs saxman) and the rest of the band. Weirdly, they then gave us versions of INXS's What You Need and Wild Cherry's Play That Funky Music (White Boy) (maybe some ironic comment on the crowd members he'd already encouraged to dance up on stage?), and The JBs' Pass The Peas, before hitting the back catalogue. "I've got so many hits, you can't handle them all" he kept reminding us, although he did find time to also cover Come Together, and Gnarls Barkley's Crazy...

The old cliche about him channeling James Brown and Jimi Hendrix is pretty much true - his moves are amazing, solos soaring, and he's got that conducting the band thing at the drop of a funky hat down. Pretty essential outing from a real master overall - could have done with 1999 and Let's Go Crazy, but maybe they the two we couldn't handle.


Setlist:
Musicology
Prince + The Band
What You Need (INXS)
Play That Funky Music (Wild Cherry)
Pass The Peas (The JBs)
Cream
U Got the Look
Shhh

Piano set
Diamonds and Pearls (1 verse 1 chorus)
A 1000 Hugs and Kisses
Little Red Corvette
Raspberry Beret (1 verse 1 chorus)
Sometimes It Snows In April

Full Band
7
Come Together (The Beatles)
Black Sweat
Kiss
Purple Rain
Encore
I Feel 4 U
Controversy inc Housequake chant

Encore
Crazy (Gnarls Barkley)
Nothing Compares 2 U

Encore - Prince solo synth set
Sign O The Times
Pop Life
DMSR
Erotic City (sample)
I Wanna Be Your Lover
When Doves Cry
Alphabet St

#Music
#Gig
#chimp71

5th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Latitude Festival

Henham Park, Southwold, Suffolk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘It’s called, the Eye of the Tiger’.

‘What?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#Gig
#LG

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

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

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

(dir.David Yates)

Another thoroughly enjoyable school year from the muggles, mudbloods and wizards of Hogwarts. Doesn't top the Prisoner Of Azkaban for style, but if you've enjoyed the first four, this doesn't disappoint.

This time round, Harry's dealing with being attacked in the media, who along with Robert Hardy's uptight Ministry of Magic, refuse to believe that Voldemort has returned. At school, he's getting bullied by both pupils and the new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Imelda Staunton. She's perfectly cast as the weak-tea sipping Dolores Umbridge, as evil as Voldemort in her own prim and proper way, edging her way to the top of the Hogwarts ladder with an endless stream of nit-picking rules.

If you've read the book, there's a lot to get through, and that's perhaps the only problem here - at times you can feel that it's a very abriged version; that said, it still works, really only cutting a lot of the repetition that JK Rowling uses to draw you into the school year. There's no quidditch match, which is fine, some fun scenes with Dumbledore's Army trying to summon up their Patronuses, and sweeping scenes of the English countryside matched by a few London flyovers which give it a real sense of place. Could have done with a touch more of the scene where Harry sees into Snape's mind and watches his memories of school, but other than that, most of the key moments are included.

The three main kids, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson, are all improving as they get older (just hope they manage to film the last 2 before they get too old for the teen roles). And again, it's an exercise in watching the cream of British actors - Helena Bonham Carter, Gary Oldman, Richard Griffiths, Brendan Gleeson, Ralph Fiennes, David Thewlis, Maggie Smith, Julie Walters, Jason Isaacs, Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson, Robbie Coltrane etc... you'd feel pretty annoyed if you didn't get the call, really.

#Film
#chimp71

4th Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Pissed Jeans

Hope For Men

Sub Pop

Pissed Jeans is the bare chested alter ego of white collar worker Matt Korvette, who sheds the skin of his day job in Allentown (known to me only through the Billy Joel track I'm afraid) and strips off to the waist to lead his band through sweaty all-ages punk shows.

With this second album, the band have been signed up to Sub Pop - and you probably couldn't imagine a better home (er, except maybe SST or Dischord). In these days of Zach Braff co-opting the Sub Pop rosta for his feel-good movies, it's good to hear a band throwing down the kind of sludge rock sound that got the label started.

People Person could not be a more ironic title for the album opener - a relatively fast punk number that has a similar effect to being mugged. With the brutal vocal force of Black Flag-era Rollins, vocalist Matt Korvette's lyrics are hard to pin down for sure, but it's either "I am a people person", or "I'm not a people person". I'm guessing it's the latter as Pissed Jeans are definitely not here to be your friend, but if you relax and go with the flow you might just have some fun.

The album generally works at a slower, pounding pace than the opener - whether its the heavy swing of A Bad Wind or the feedback drenched atmosphere of The Jogger. Things almost seem like they might break-out of the weight of this album on the amusing anecdote I’ve Still Got You (Ice Cream) or drum led Caught Licking Leather, but fear not. Much less post-modern sounding than recent punk-sludge from the likes of The Bronx, this is coming from the genuine roots of lifelong garage banders - who are clearly fans of Black Flag or sick-coloured vinyl specialists Flipper.

If you can withstand the bettering your ears will take, you will see through the wall of noise and expose the story-telling side of this album, stretching out tales of white collar workers in the "Straight World". It's a tall order that will certainly not be to many people's tastes - but for many pre-Nirvana post-punkers it will be a breath of fresh air.

#Music
#CSF

11th Jun 2007 - 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

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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#Muxloe

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

The Maccabees

Colour It In

Polydor

“Latchmere’s got a Wave Machine”. 

Not only a statement of fact, but possibly the most brilliantly inane lyric of the summer and most definitely the only lyric in honour of the same South London sports centre where members of the Chimpomatic staff regularly re-write the 5-aside football rule book.

A song about a sports centre.  And quite openly too: “Speedos speed by. Remember to stay in your lanes. No Heavy Petting.” just a sample of singer Orlando Weeks’ poetry on track 4 (Latchmere) from Colour It In, the debut album from this Clapham 5 piece (now relocated to Brighton).

The Maccabees cast a pretty narrow net lyrically; focusing on that period of late teens/early 20s (unsurprising considering they weigh in at an average age of 21) which with hindsight are glorious and carefree, but at the time can be overcast with trivial doubts and worries.  Colour It In captures the energy, exuberance and innocence of this time, but is not a naïve album. 

Whilst the hefty chip on my shoulder makes me naturally cautious of a band made up of an Orlando, Felix, Hugo, Rupert and a Robert Dylan Thomas, I’m a sucker for a dose of that post-Strokes, tight guitared-pop and Colour It In’s sheer enthusiasm chipped away at my cynicism after a couple of listens.  They pad tracks 3 through 7 with the stronger single-ish songs All In Your Rows, Latchmere, About Your Dress (see a video clip here) and Precious Time -  all of which got my feet tapping, so god knows how the less world-weary kids are keeping still, whilst the supporting songs hold their own and keep up the vibe.

The Maccabees may well go down the Razorlight route of wankerworm or they might dissapear without trace, but there is no denying that Colour It In is a confident and enjoyable debut, that will most likely be unavoidable this summer.  It may not last the test of time, but like any good summer romance it’s the excitement of the now that matters. If you are too old to get to a wave machine for your summer kicks; a few beers, a spot of sun and Colour It In might just do the trick.

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27th Apr 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Kissaway Trail

The Kissaway Trail

Bella Union

It is a phenomenon of the music business that for every great band they discover music lovers have to suffer a wave of mediocrity trailing in their hero's wake. For every Stone Roses there is a Flowered Up, for every Oasis there follows a Northern Uproar, for every Blur there is a Menswear swimming in the slipstream, for every Nirvana a Stone Temple Pilots, for every Kylie in the spotlight there lurks a Lisa Scott Lee in the shadows…. you get the picture. Is it that these bands strive to replicate a formula that is proven to bring success and acclaim or just that record companies actively seek out sound-a-likes of the big buzz band of the moment? I’m not sure, but we can all recall the process; the NME big up this new band and mates pass on a copy of the album like pushers of illegal substances. ‘Go on, you loved Nirvana/Oasis so you’ll definitely love these lot, go on give it a try, go on.’ You’re initially willing to believe that these new lot will be the bona fide real deal before the excitement of the scene dies down and time confirms that they are little more than cheap tribute acts. To the pantheon of such acts can now be added the name of the Danish group The Kissaway Trail. This is a band that will be pushed to you on the basis that ‘if you loved Arcade Fire, you’ll love this lot, go on give it a try, go on….’

Except here’s the thing, The Kissaway Trail are not Arcade Fire. That’s all well and dandy of course, lots of good acts aren’t but the problem lies in the fact that though they may sound similar to the Canadian maestros of the moment, the album they’ve produced is just not particularly good. The Kissaway Trail certainly check all the right boxes. Urgent percussion, tick. Lush strings, tick. Soaring choruses, tick. But they don’t work together in a way that one would expect. It is like mixing ingredients in a bowl and expecting to pull a nicely risen wholemeal farmhouse loaf from the oven only to find that it is actually white Nan bread. Maybe for a debut album comparisons with established acts are harsh but as the Kissaway Trail are trading on them it is only fair to make a few. Tracy with its premature climax lacks the stamina and passion of Arcade Fire, Smother+Evil=Hurt fails to reach the dizzying heights of euphoria the Polyphonic Spree are tuned into and La La Song could do with an extra sprinkling of the Flaming Lips genuine, rather than expedient, eccentricity. This collection of songs all feels just a little too contrived and frankly boring.

Word is that the Kissaway Trail rock on stage, and they certainly have a few tricks up their sleeve offering some promise of a bright future if only they can find their own distinct sound. They certainly aren’t as lame as Menswear or desperate as Lisa Scott Lee but though the NME might currently tell you differently the fear remains that the Kissaway Trail could end up being remembered in the same bracket as Northern Uproar, Stone Temple Pilots and the like.

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#Muxloe

27th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Andrew Bird

Armchair Apocrypha

Fargo

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

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

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

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

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16th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wilco

Sky Blue Sky

Nonesuch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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#CSF

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

Arctic Monkeys

Astoria, London

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

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

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

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

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

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#Muxloe

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

The Cinematic Orchestra

Ma Fleur

Ninja Tune

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

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

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

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

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#BC

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

Modest Mouse

We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

Epic

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

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

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

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

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#BC

4th Apr 2007 - 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.

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#BC

30th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Hotel Alexis

Goliath, I'm On Your Side

Broken Sparrow Records

Its little wonder that Hotel Alexis declare in the title of their second album that they are on the side of Goliath. The impression is that they've staked their money on the odds on favourite, preferring the safe option and letting someone else fight their battles for them. They'd be wise to take a leaf from David's book by showing just a little more of the biblical underdog's courage, conviction and cunning.

Singer/songwriter Sidney Alexis wears his influences on his musical sleeves but in trying to emulate his heroes he fails to find his own voice. It takes more than slide guitar to sound like Americana idols Sparklehorse. A 19 minute meandering drone doesn't confer Velvet Underground status. And a sense of melancholy needs to be matched by a confessional intimacy to leave an impression like Leonard Cohen, or even Bright Eyes.

All in all it's a great shame as if Hotel Alexis revealed more of themselves rather than just hinting at what's catalogued in their Itunes library they could really be something. The textured arrangements of brushed snares and folksy picking combining with studio experimentation occasionally pays lush and atmospheric dividends. The deserted funfair feel of 'Our Good Captain' is intriguing while 'The Devil knows my handle' has a 'down home' ambience masking a bleaker message but these are fleeting glances at what could have been.

At 19 minutes long 'Hummingbird' is the centre piece of this album recalling a long journey where the scenery is pleasant, as is the company, but you just don't seem to arrive anywhere. Its certainly not a road to hell but neither is it a magical mystery tour. If only they'd been brave, or curious, enough to veer off the beaten track.

On 'I'll arrange for you to fall' Alexis asks “what went wrong, what went right?” Actually referring to a name change he could have been asking for judgement on this album. The answer would have to be a bemused shrug of the shoulders. If they grow some balls like David then Hotel Alexis could be onto a winner.

#Music
#Muxloe

15th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Letters From Iwo Jima

(dir.Clint Eastwood)

Does anyone else have what I have with Clint Eastwood's films? I never rush to see them and then I watch with moderate expectations but invariably come out loving them. I really should learn by now. 'Letters From Iwo Jima' is up there with his very best, and is a great, great film. I thought the Best Picture category was fairly weak this year but it is a travisty that this didn't win. I guess they owed Scorsese one.

Seeing the battle of Iwo Jima from the Japanese perspective is a clever idea and Eastwood explores this deftly. When the 'isn't war pointless' buttons are pushed it is done so in a refreshingly level headed and clear eyed view. The storytelling is always objective and the situations and characters rounded and three-dimensional.

The film is littered with great performances; Ken Watanabe's sympathetic General Kuribayashi, who retains his dignity despite the heavily stacked odds and the hopeless situation. To counterpoint the his perspective, we also follow the story of Saigo (played by Kazunari Ninomiya), a reluctant conscript who is no ones idea of the a war hero, least of all his own.

I used to think of Eastwood as an actor who directed pretty good films but make no mistake, he is a great director that can sit easily alongside the very best.

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#marmot

13th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

David Vandervelde

The Moonstation House Band

Secretly Canadian

It seems that T Rex is having something of a comeback in 2007. What with the debut album by Ninja Tune's Pop Levi and now this - David Vandervelde's The Moonstation House Band. It has all the folk-slide 70's warmth-sleaze of the much missed Bolan but that being said it's still a fine listen. It's a brief introduction, weighing in at just over half an hour, but my appetite is certainly moistened.

In the traditions of the music it aims to emulate Vandervelde has created a concept album of sorts. Much like Bowies fictitious Spiders From Mars, this album is the sound of the mythical Moonstation House Band - a Lonely Hearts Club Band for the naughties. At least 90% of the record is Vandervaldt himself - and at the young age of 22 this is some piece of work. By consciously setting out to recapture the spirit and sound of his dad's 70's records, Vandervelde has managed to strip away all the bravado that came with this music. The camp, glam shenanigans have gone and what remains is crisp musicianship and classic melodies.

Nothin' No drifts in on a haze of woolly guitars and blissed-out vocals telling stories of "gettin' high on your front porch." It has a wonderfully nostalgic feeling to it. It's like squinting in the evening sun as you strain to see a memory long passed. Jacket picks up the pace a bit and has all the rhythmical catchiness and effortless melody of classic Bowie. Corduroy Blues is a sublime piece of orchestral delight while Can't See Your Face No More is a foot stomping anthem that if put to the closing credits to any movie would have the audience leaving the cinema on a high.

It's hard to write about this album and not dwell on the wealth of influences that have made it happen, but at no point does it hide behind these influences or collapse under them. The music oozes warmth - whether its the mid-afternoon blaze of the up-tempo tracks or the early evening haze of the slower ones it washes over you in hypnotic waves. After the lazy, peaceful close of the final track Moonlight Instrumental you feel like the lights have just been turned out on another glorious day in the sun. A day that had it all, laughter, tears, joy and pain but as you gently drift off to sleep you feel excited at what tomorrow has in store.

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#BC

1st Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

RJD2

The Third Hand

XL

This is the first album RJD2 has put out without the help of Def Jux Records and there's a good reason for that. His much hyped debut Dead Ringers followed on nicely from the work of DJ Shadow in the world of sampling and gave the aggressive yet progressive alt hip-hop label a new string to its bow. Then in 2004 came Since We Last Spoke. Obviously plagued by the constant comparisons to Shadow, this album signaled a shift in direction for RJD2. Still containing the sampled structure this album leaned more towards mellow vocal tracks than its predecessor taking much of its influence from 70's rock. Now in 2007 the transformation is complete. I hope the artist will forgive me for one last Shadow comparison but just as The Outsider was an album to silence all stereotypes and went to one extreme end of the musical spectrum and embraced hip hop in all its grime The Third Hand goes the other direction and almost rejects all things hip hop and embraces pop.

The fact that RJD2 has fled the Def Jux fold shows just how much he's changed direction. This album still has the impeccably produced beats but heavily relies on vocals. It's a pretty slick piece of work with some beautiful instrumental moments. Reality is one of the stand out points with a funky-ass guitar bass line sampled over a classic RJD2 break-beat that chops and changes repeatedly and weaves in and out of the singing while Get It revisits old ground as one of the few purely instrumental beat pieces. But I'm sure that I've picked out these two as highlights as they most resemble the earlier work and I'm not proud of that.

This album will not go down too well with true blue hip hop heads who followed him earlier on, and unfortunately I think I am one of those. I hate to say that - as I love artists who can break away from a successful sound and forge a new path, but this album sees a total shift in genre. This is not in any way to suggest that it's a bad album, far from it, as pop music goes this is better than most. The production is impeccable, the beats strong and the whole thing floats on a multi textured bed of strings, samples and synths.

I can really respect this shift in direction. The change we all saw in Shadow's The Outsider seemed to come from a bitter resentment that all and sundry were making careers off his sound and the piece of shit he gave us was supposed to give a two fingered salute. The Third Hand however seems to come from a more genuine, honest place and is just the sound of an artist wanting to move on from where he started no matter how good a place that was.

#Music
#BC

16th Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet