Chimpomatic

Pastels/Tenniscoats

Two Sunsets

Geographic

In something of a dream team match up, Two Sunsets sees Japanese psych-folk popsters Tenniscoats team up with... Scottish psych-folk popsters Pastels - for an album of psych folk pop.

Joking aside, this is a beautiful record, meeting all expectations for a long-on-hiatus revered band like the Pastels, recently more consumed by the running of their Domino funded label Geographic.

Two Sunsets is dreamy, shoe-gazing pop that is an effortless listen, ebbing and flowing and creating a world and language of its own, although that language is not dissimilar to the work of those other occasional-Japanese-avant-garde-collaborators Damon & Naomi.

The the aptly-titled opening track, Tokyo Glasgow starts things off, while Two Sunsets is a highlight, as is the intriguingly titled closer Start Slowly We Sound Like A Loch - gently layering keyboards and sounds to build up a lush soundscape. Beautiful.

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4th Sep 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Nodzzz

Nodzzz

What’s Your Rupture

Despite the British sound and undoubted nod of the head to bands like Elvis Costello or The Buzzcocks and other Brit-influenced bands like The Feelies or Richard Hell, Nodzzz surprisingly hail from San Francisco. While that may undermine their British credibility somewhat, it is not their main problem.

Deliberately off-hand and disengaging, Nodzzz are ...disengaging. The atmosphere of ha-ha-just-messing-about provides little reward for the listener's time. "Controlled karaoke. La la la, this song is corny" or "Losing my accent. Da da da da." It's not enough.

There are basic, literal messages wrapped up in the lyrics here, but music can be better that this. Lyrics don't have to be printed in upper case to get a message across, and the power of music and atmosphere are put to little use here. It's harmless enough stuff and thankfully it's 10 songs only total a 15 minute running length. That's 15 minutes that you could put to better use.

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#NM

3rd Sep 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Arctic Monkeys

Humbug

Domino

While the Arctic Monkey's second album Favourite Worst Nightmare was seen as something of a departure from the more chart friendly sound of tracks like I Bet You Look Good..., that departure is now seeming like more of a correction to where the band wanted to be heading. You may be expecting another departure here, after having read notes on how the band headed out to the desert to record this with Josh Homme, but stylistically it is a very logical continuation.

With the exception of the forever tracksuit-toting drummer, the band seems to have gone though a group mentality change on their new haircuts, graduating from teenage rockers to proper long-hairs, reflecting the most obviously development of the sound, as the band embrace darker, more American rock influences - notable in the angry squeals of Fire and The Thud, or the epic-sounding drawl of Dance Little Liar.

505, which proved a huge hit as the closer at this year's Reading festival, hinted at a new direction at the end of Favourite Worst Nightmare, but that hint is not really built upon here. The name calling narrative of Cornerstone probably comes closest, with Alex Turner's flowing vocals unfolding the narrative, proving Turner is without a doubt the star of the band. He is developing into a true icon, with a confidence on stage and song-writing ability that rivals Noel Gallagher, minus the attitude problem.

Darker than Whatever People Say I Am..., but with perhaps less of the abrasiveness of Favourite Worst Nightmare, Humbug is lacking the instant catchy hits of both - but none the less is a solid, consistent album that will surely reveal its true hand after many more listens.

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2nd Sep 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Monotonix

Where Were You When It Happened?

Drag City

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

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

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

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#BC

1st Sep 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Tortoise

The Garage, London

Sometimes things go wrong. The best laid plans and organisation with all the right elements in place for a good time can be rudely scuppered by some faulty equipment. And so it was with Tortoise tonight - possibly the smallest venue that Tortoise could physically cram into, this was a rare up-close and intimate gig promoted by All Tomorrow's Parties (the ONLY promoters in the world endorsed by Steve Albini, fact fans). I'm sure Tortoise did some thorough sound-checks, but you can't cover every eventuality, and about 8 bars into the first number Tortoise ground to a halt as Jeff Parker's guitar rig stopped working. After another false start the band asked for the lights to go up, and the up-close nature of the gig revealed some very concerned faces on stage. I'd imagine that a band like Tortoise rely quite heavily on being able to call up the sounds they need from their equipment, and having one essential element missing would make it impossible to continue, and you could see how gutted the band looked - they'd clearly been looking forward to this one.

After about 20 minutes they managed to get started properly, but you could sense the band had been affected by the whole thing. To be perfectly frank, the first couple of numbers were pretty shaky - way looser than the music required, with the band seeming to struggle to keep up with their own compositions. Even the sparkling new track High Class Slim Came Floatin' In didn't quite hit the spot, and you could still make out furrowed brows on stage. However, Tortoise didn't give up, and about 20 minutes into the set they started to play a selection of tracks from TNT and It's All Around You - at which point you could practically see (and certainly hear) the band relax. From then on it went much more smoothly - the sound was clear and the musicians starting to enjoy themselves. They cherry-picked from a fine back catalogue and by the end of the set seemed to have won their mood back. Leaving the stage with apologetic gestures, the band seemed reluctant to be called back onstage for more, but the crowd demanded a return and back they came.

First encore was Yinxianghechengqi (hurrah for cut 'n' paste text editors) the punkiest track Tortoise have, and they seemed to really enjoy this one. Called back onstage for a third time, the band seemed truly happy and treated us to more vintage classics including I Set My Face To The Hillside. Everyone left happy, but I don't think this was the best performance the band had ever given - the first half of the set had them on the back foot the whole way, which is a shame as this was where the newer material was featured. Still, good to see a band persisting in the face of adversity.

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#HarrisPilton

27th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Dinosaur Jr.

Concorde 2, Brighton

The latest video from Dinosaur Jr features the three original band members J. Mascis, Lou Barlow and ‘Murph’ (Emmett Jefferson Murphy) trying to pull off the tricks of their youth on skateboards and a BMX – a self-conscious admission that past glories are almost always impossible to replicate. Happily Dinosaur Jr, with past feuds now behind them, manage it, even if they can’t ollie like they used to, because they have always been about the music. The most ardent fan would never claim that you go to a Dinosaur Jr. gig for the lightshow, political messages or the witty banter between songs. No. You just get three men, barely able to fit on stage because of the six Marshall stacks surrounding them, heads down, tearing through a stentorian catalogue of rampant songs. Mascis, with his metronome of flowing, now silver, hair, stands in front of a collection of pedals that pin him to his amp, while he assails the audience with a barrage of noise that never quite obscures the sonorous, occasionally soporific, melodies.

There was little sign of an evolution in their sound in the three decades that have elapsed between ‘In A Jar’ from 1987’s ‘You’re Living All Over Me’ that they opened with and ‘I Want You To Know’ from their new album ‘Farm’ that came next. Concorde 2 is an intimate and relaxed venue but it gives you nowhere to hide. ‘Over It’ and Freak Scene’ were predictably thrilling, tighter than Slayer, and almost as loud, it was a series of audible epiphanies with none of the self-obsessed bollocks referred to as showmanship these days. They haven’t aged in outlook and neither have their audience, all wearing the same brands as twenty years ago, (although, I did see quite a few resorting to day-glo ear plugs in an attempt to limit the damage to their not quite so young inner ears) and perhaps this is a generation that never will age in the same shuffling, resigned manner of the current crop of oldies. We’ll be wearing Vans, grubby jeans and check shirts while skateboarding through the corridors of our nursing homes with Dinosaur Jr on a loop through our hearing aids. A throbbing encore including ‘Kracked’, with an epic guitar solo finale that reminded everyone why Mascis is so revered as a guitar player, brought things to a close. He offered a single word, ‘thanks’, as they all trudged off the stage. The only full word he uttered throughout the entire ninety minute set.

Photo by Rachel Poulton. See more here.

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#RP

27th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wilco

Troxy, London

As with the Shepherd's Bush show in 2007, Wilco's show at London's recently revived Troxy started off fairly sedately, with the band thundering through a few tracks before Tweedy addressed the crowd and the atmosphere began to grow. That atmosphere was cemented by the birthday cake brought on stage for the 42 year old Tweedy and a rendition of Happy Birthday launched into a great version of Hate It Here. With the show now in full-swing, I'm The Man Who Loves You worked the crown into a cheering frenzy.

Guitarist Nels Cline adds a live-wire element to the band, near-permanently twitching on the sidelines, waiting for the opportunity to unleash another blistering solo - a fact not overlooked by Jeff Tweedy who joked that Cline's double headed guitar was a reward for the preceding guitar solo on a magnificent Impossible Germany. Wilco are no one-trick pony though and every member of the band contributes at a notable level, with the band constantly adding new touches and flourishes from songs all through out their back catalogue - such as the gorgeous slide guitar and keyboard on Jesus Etc. An encore of Don't Forget The Flowers was a brief reminder of Wilco's 'alt.country' roots, before the sonic assault of At Least That's What She Said and Kidsmoke brought us more up to date with their later sonic adventures, as well as dropping in a crowd-sourced mini-cover of We Are The Champions (see it on video!). A band with three guitarists capable of virtuoso solos is unlikely to disappoint, as noted by the flamboyant guitar duel between Nels Cline and the admirably capable Pat Sansone.

Wilco may be a bunch of (mostly) middle aged men who make great music, but as a (nearly) middle aged man looking for little more than great music, who's complaining? If you forget the fancy lightshows and expect nothing more than guitars and cowboy shirts you are unlikely to be disappointed by one of their ever-outstanding live shows.

Setlist:
Wilco (The Song)
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart
Company In My Back
Bull Black Nova
You Are My Face
One Wing
A Shot in the Arm
Radio Cure
Handshake Drugs
Nothing’severgonnastandinmyway (again)
Deeper Down
Impossible Germany

You Never Know
Jesus, Etc.
Can’t Stand It
Hate It Here
Walken
I’m The Man Who Loves You

At Least That’s What You Said
Forget the Flowers
Heavy Metal Drummer
Spiders (Kidsmoke)
I’m A Wheel
Hoodoo Voodoo

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#CSF

26th Aug 2009 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Review The Crowd: U2 360° Tour

Millennium Stadium

Cardiff

In a new departure, we asked intrepid reporter, (and noted scholar of the Edge effect pedal board), Dr Chimp to file a review of the U2 crowd outside the Millenium Stadium in Cardiff on Saturday 22 Aug, 2009...

It should be noted that U2 have the most unstylish fans in the world. There were some truly horrendous mullets (non-ironic mode) on display around town this afternoon, and lots of men in cowboy boots. And dozens of people were already unconscious or semi-unconscious outside the pubs near the stadium by about 3pm.

That's not far off a usual Saturday in Cardiff, of course, but the snowwash-o-meter had been cranked up a notch or two.

Overheard a hilarious conversation between a group of teenagers on the train as it passed the stadium, too. I was actually laughing to myself and trying to not be noticed by them. It went something like this:

Teenager 1: Who the fuck would queue up to get in early to see U2?

Teenager 2: Bunch of daft cunts.

Teenager 3: My dad asked me if I wanted to go with him, and I was, like, 'Don't think so!'

Teenager 4: What's that shit song of theirs? Lovely Day?

Teenager 5: Sunny Day.

Teenager 6: Beautiful Day.

Teenager 7: Cunt Day.  

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#Dr.Chimp

25th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Cougar

Patriot

Counter

I didn't read up on this band before I listened to the album - but I knew it was going to be a kind of post-rock instrumental album released through Ninja Tune subsidiary Counter Records. If that conjures some kind of aural image in your mind's-ear, you can be pretty sure that's what Cougar sound like. You could put them on the same lineup as Tortoise without upsetting anyone, and the production on the record is lightly peppered with some of those super-slick Ninja Tune flicks and flares. What's weird about this record is that it exchanges post-rock's jazz leanings for more of a world music or folk texture, and this doesn't always hit the spot. The other thing is that it has many tasty ingredients such as beefy sound, great playing, dynamics and variation - but they combine into a dinner that is served in a somewhat over-polite manner. Even the parts where the guitars crank up and it goes all metal just seem a bit too reserved, a bit too clean. The drumming is outstanding throughout, while final track Absaroka is the understated shining gem of the whole collection - since it taps into an American folk sound that is more typically played by Bill Frisell.

This track stands up easily alongside fellow Ninjas Jaga Jazzist, but much of the remaining album suffers from over-bake. Ninja are good at coaxing terrific second albums out of their artists, so Cougar could be a band to keep an eye on.

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#HarrisPilton

24th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Pissed Jeans

King Of Jeans

Sub Pop

With the overflowing stream of DIY noise pop filling my in-tray this year I've grown accustomed to calamitous percussion and under-produced guitars drowning out distant vocals, and to be honest, I've loved nearly every minute of it. Having said that it feels pretty good to break out the third album from Pennsylvania scuzz-punks Pissed Jeans having not heard a peep from them since 2007's Hope For Men. Compared to much of the punk-de-jour we hear today this stuff has muscle. Since 2007 they've been bench pressing. Gone are the extended noise passages that gave Hope For Men the fear factor - but ultimately turned it into an abstract nightmare, and in their place are riffs so heavy they'll wrench your gut from its very foundations.

Opener False Jesli Part 2 displays this might to full effect with guitars that rumble with booming terror. It's awesome to hear a punk riff that clearly spends its down time in the gym with Metallica's front line. Matt Korvette's wrenched vocals smash this rumble with unadulterated power. The sound is a lot more focused here and as a result Korvette's irony oozing writing is way more audible. The thing that sets these guys apart from a lot in the genre is their mastery of the banal. They play with such power and Korvette's screaming can't help to make you pay attention. But as soon as you do, you realise he's singing about getting his car back from the shop only to find "there's a new noise this time," or the growled demands we get on Request For A Masseuse such as "take both thumbs and dig them in / stop my flesh from tightening." Instead of being totally throwaway the result is a piece of work that expertly and frighteningly describes the trials of the mundane human existence. The last song is called Goodbye (Hair) and sums up the M.O. of these guys. They're punks who are growing old and this is their story. They're not singing about smashing the system, but hair loss.

Request For A Masseuse and Spent are the two reprieves from the lightning pummeling the rest of the record offers, but the word reprieve is highly misleading. These two take a different path, that of slow, grinding sludge, but the result is the same: total and welcome destruction of the listener. Spent is over seven minutes long and never gets above a crawl. The guitars are drawn out and heavy as fuck. Randy Huth's bass comes into full effect here as it tunnels its way into your soul. Korvette is slow and methodical, painfully drawing out his agony for us all to experience. Displaying both boredom, sloth and general hair ripping frustration it slowly erupts into screams and guttural howls as his breakdown is made visible and he is finally "spent." It carries the weight of the album on its shoulders alone and nothing is the same after it.

It's easy to view this kind of head smashing as only that, but King Of Jeans is a focused piece of social commentary that hammers its point home without you even noticing. With the social observations heavily buried, it ends up proving it's point more cohesively than some records with more obvious direction ever manage. They might be punks who are trying to come to terms with the passage of time, but they still pose the same threat to the system by taking it down and thrusting a mirror image in its face in all its banality. 

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#BC

21st Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Diagonals

Valley Of The Cyclops

Monofonus Press

Austin Texas band The Diagonals have produced one of the most listened to albums of the year for me strangely enough. Throughout its brief thirty-four minute duration, its jangly indie-pop never strives towards reinvention of the genre and rarely takes a turn you didn't see coming; however, despite and because of these factors, Valley Of The Cyclops is an endlessly rewarding listen.

Borrowing a good slice of psychedelia from the likes of fellow Texans The 13th Floor Elevators this quintet, listed on their My Space page as "Steve, Todd, Nate and sometimes Michael", tick all the slacker/stoner boxes. Singing about smoking weed, pissing in sinks and eating out at Denny's, their blend of surf jangle and fast paced drumming is the driving force behind these songs. Frontman Steve Garcia was formerly the bassist/guitarist for Black Lipstick and penned some of their best songs - so it's no surprise that his latest venture would be as satisfying as this. Both bands have much in common and it's the effortless ease with which this sound is generated that really links the two. They sound like they come from a time when life was simpler and sunnier. Rosy surf jams these are not but any problems that may arise are soon treated with the "oh fuck it" mantra and the swirling guitar drive carries you off to a place where little matters. I would highly recommend this record, it's got Austin written all over it and will be soundtracking many a summer to come.

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20th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Pearl Jam

O2, London

With relatively few UK gigs under their belts, it's always nice to have Pearl Jam in town. Assuming they aren't one of your most hated bands, of course.  As noted by the band, their first UK gig was at The Borderline in '92 - and they were often described as being 'full of energy'. Probably because they "only played eight songs" - a long way from tonight's three-hour-plus show in front of a packed house. So packed, that Eddie Vedder wisely hypnotized the crowd into taking a unified three steps back about four songs in, reminding everyone of why they were away from Europe for so long before.

With the band maturing gracefully, and the Ten reissue garnering such nostalgic praise, it's hard not to suspect that Pearl Jam may be winding things down somewhat. Tracks from imminent new release Backspacer didn't make much impact, while the set was packed with often overlooked tracks from the earliest (four) albums.

Surprise opener Release was a highlight, plus plenty of favourites from Vitalogy, the spine-tingling Footsteps, personal favourite Light Years - as well as obligatory singalongs Black and Betterman, plus the rousing encore of Crazy Mary.

While you might expect the enormodome proportions of the O2/Millenium Dome to make for a stale atmosphere, with the right band it makes for an exuberant party vibe. We're all here to see Pearl Jam, but with the beer stand so easy to get to you'd be foolish to pull the usual trick of backing up your toilet breaks to the end. And so evolves a new dilemma: where to take your break. With so many favourites flowing easily it's a tough descision, especially when unknown newer songs provoke a mass exodus/bigger queues. Like choosing which kid to throw out the boat first, I went with Rats, while BC chose lesser known b-side I Got ID and CJ bizarrely chose Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town. At least he was back quick.

If you hate them, you hate them, but if you love them you'll wish you had been there for a typically roof-raising performance from the definite 'grunge' (ha!) rockers.

Setlist:
Release
Animal
Corduroy
Why Go
Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town
Immortality
The Fixer
Even Flow
I Got I.D.
Rats (with a bit of Michael Jackson' Ben)
Got Some
Whipping
Light Years
Insignificance
Black
Life Wasted
Blood (with a bit of Atomic Dog)

Supersonic
Hail Hail
Footsteps
Love, Reign O'er Me
Do The Evolution
Alive

Better Man (with a bit of Save It For Later)
Crazy Mary
Leaving Here
Porch
Yellow Ledbetter

I've put the best part of the setlist into a Spotify playlist here.

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#CSF

19th Aug 2009 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Inglourious Basterds

(dir. Quentin Tarantino)

Miramax

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Film
#chimp71

18th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Yim Yames

Tribute to George Harrison

Rough Trade

Well stone me! This is crazy My Morning Jacket front man Jim James. Who'd have thought it? Despite the pseudonym this short George Harrison tribute record does more in its first song than Evil Urges did in its entirety. I know it's wrong to put an artist in a cage but we've all seen what happens when Jim steps out of his, and I for one am glad to see him drenched in reverb, strumming an acoustic and displaying his vocal range in all its subtleties without a N.E.R.D. style hip hop beat in sight. Confined by Harrison's songs there's no mention of librarians or the interweb, and he more than does these songs justice. Love You To and Ballad Of Sir Frankie Crisp (Let It Roll) are instant highlights and his version of My Sweet Lord is ghostly and delicate. I wouldn't be surprised if we get a Hari Krishna line in a future MMJ song though, but until that time it sure is good to hear Jim do what he does best. It's just in time too as I haven't listened to a MMJ record for some time and now have renewed hope for the forthcoming Monsters Of Folk project.

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#BC

18th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Nurses

Apples Acre

Dead Oceans

This Portland, Oregon band should count themselves very lucky that I'm going through something of a slack period in my duties for this site. Had I handed this review in last week when I should have, the score you see before you would be devoid of a star or two. Up until last week I found this record an interesting but ultimately frustrating and all too familiarly quirky statement. But then it hit me, in the space of one listen the other day the magic that is locked deep inside this record made itself known to me. The increased appreciation for something that had appeared so irritating is one thing to marvel at, but how a record as seemingly sparse and simple as this can have such delights hidden within is remarkable, there's not many places it can hide. The eery melodies that are coaxed from Aaron Chapman's otherworldly vocals stand alone among the barren sonic landscape, backed by an elementary rhythm section and distant glimmers of percussion the whole sound seems to show its cards from the start, but it's a bluff so don't be fooled, this is great stuff.

Having self released their debut back in 2007 Aaron Chapman and John Bowers have done their fair share of rambling but finally settled on Portland as their home. Picking up a third member, James Mitchell, their sound has laid down roots into the deeply dysfunctional yet joyously elegant psych-pop that makes up Apple's Acre. One way to describe it is Animal Collective on half the budget or Grizzly Bear on half the anal retention. There's an ease to which these songs seem to have been created. They appear shambolic at first with their rickety percussion and decrepit Rhodes piano and Chapman's high pitched delivery, but then out of this mess comes some of the most delightful melodies, and with such scant back-up it's Chapman alone who crafts these.

As a whole, the record swells to incorporate ever growing elements. In the early stages we get the thrifty concoction of voice and piano as in opener Technicolor, the feeling being lonely and haunting. Then slowly the vocals are layered and this is when the finest, most thrilling results occur. Manatarms starts off empty with dispersed voices circling the drums but then each voice falls in behind Chapman's squeak and the whole thing rises like an orchestra. The same can be said for Lita towards the end of the record. This is clearly the standout track here and throughout its three and a half minutes my heart reaches new joys far higher than any delicately crafted Grizzly Bear arrangement. With a trembling piano and plodding rhythm the vocal harmonies take their time to soar but soar they certainly do. But this isn't anthemic soaring we're used to in pop music. This is soaring that could collapse at any point and I guess it's somewhere in this tension that the beguiling beauty is to be found. 

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#BC

17th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Cave Singers

Welcome Joy

Matador

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stardeath And White Dwarfs

The Birth

WEA

Been a while since I picked up a CD because of the band's name. In the old days, way before we were all plugged into the matrix, downloading mp3s into our eyeballs all day, you'd often find yourself taking a punt on a "record" just because the band had called themselves something kerrazy like Gaye Bykers On Acid or Butthole Surfers (who could resist an album called Hairway To Steven?) - even Sonic Youth sounded like a pretty interesting proposition...

Seeing the cover of Stardeath And White Dwarfs reminded me of those days somehow - hadn't heard anything about them, liked the artwork, thought the name was something to live up to, and figured it should be worth at least skipping through.

What a pleasant surprise then to find it's an album that more than justifies the OTT interstellar name. 

Of course, it's easy these days to find out who any freaks are: and your at-one-ness with the matrix has probably already identified Stardeath from their excellent team-up with the Flaming Lips on a Borderline cover earlier in the year. As their website freely admits, they're pretty tied in with the Lips team - 

"A lot has been made of the connection between Stardeath and The Flaming Lips, so let's go ahead and get that out of the way so we can move on. Yes, they are from Oklahoma, where the waving wheat sure tastes sweet, etc. And, yes, head Dwarf, Dennis Coyne, is the nephew of head Lip, Wayne Coyne. And, yes, three of the Dwarfs (Casey, Matt and Dennis) once formed the core of The Flaming Lips' road crew. And, yes, they have played many a show with The Flaming Lips (and will probably play many more in the future)."

- and there's some obvious comparisons with the Flaming Lips mothership running through this debut. That mix of modern psychedelic freakery and acoustic campfire singalong is a template they don't deviate far from. 

The Sea On Fire kicks off with a proper doom-rock riff kicking in after what sounds like someone plugging in; it's full of fuzz on title track The Birth; and flips into catchy rock-outs on New Heat - even into wandering into Pink Floyd Dark Side Of The Moon era instrumental bass-heaviness on Those Who Are From The Sun Return To The Sun. And, as you'd expect from a band working in the Flaming Lips tradition, Stardeath aren't afraid to pull it all back down for some mellow acoustic moments too on tracks like Smokin' Pot Makes Me Not Want To Kill Myself (hmm, wonder what that one's about?). But it's all in the best possible taste, like they've learned from an apprenticeship with master craftsmen, and have stepped out into their own practice with confidence. Look forward to hearing more from them, reckon this is a set list that should take off live.

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13th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

The XX

XX

Young Turks

With their debut album this South-West London due have lovingly created what sounds like an exploded diagram of an indie-pop record. Each element is laid out infront of you exposing its bare bones and the result is a sparse and at times haunting collection of songs that despite their stark simplicity are utterly compelling from the start. Theirs is a blend of glistening indie pop guitar melodies that flutter with new wave inspired reverberation and a vocal duo that drench the whole thing pure soul.

I must admit I find it hard to get past the Intro that opens this album. As a two minute instrumental it stands alone form the rest of the songs and is two minutes of near perfection with its echoing rhythm ponding in the cavernous space and the delicate melody circling above. But move on we must and as soon as Romy Madley Croft's soft vocals emerge on VCR like wildlife after a storm the spell is cast. Both her and Oliver Sim have the duty of filling in the hollow gaps in this sparse music but with their delicate and hushed tones they only fill it with more emtyness. Their delivery defies their roots and have the awkward softness of Scandinavia, together they make this sound quite unique.

By distancing each musical element from their context and exposing them in virtual isolation their power is all the more potent when they all come together. Seen most notably on Basic Space and Night Time the sense of satisfaction that occurs in you when you've wandered through the lonely musical space only to see it all gently converge with such precision and purpose is what makes this record so special. It's desperately lonely but there's warmth in these voices. They're intimate and close and above all real. Picking through the vulnerable particles of the human relationship the writing is simple and economic echoing the simplicity of the music. XX is an exercise of context, with the music and vocals being presented to us alone and then in unison. By bringing things together on songs like Crystalised or Islands they hold our attention throughout the record, our hearts straining for the next moment of bliss. Thankfully it doesn't have long to wait as these moments are plentiful on an album that simply glows with originality and honesty. This is a magnificent debut and one whose beauty may be set on slow release but pours forth in generous amounts as soon as you let it.

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12th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Throw Me The Statue

Creaturesque

Secretly Canadian

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

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

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

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10th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Serengeti & Polyphonic

Terradactyl

Anticon

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

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

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

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

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

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6th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Julien Plenti

Julien Plenti Is ...Skyscraper

Matador

I'm not sure if I'd just temporarily had enough of Interpol, but 2007's major label debut Our Love To Admire failed to engage me. Tracks (and lyrics) like 'No I In Threesome' or 'Rest My Chemistry' just made the band seem like parodies of themselves - making it easy to imagine a Saturday Night Live sketch with Will Ferrell singing his shopping list, Interpol style. I just wasn't in the mood and after a few attempts it slipped away into the abyss.

Lead singer Paul Banks is back with the band's original label - Matador - for his first solo record, under the guise of alter-ego Julien Plenti. Banks had performed under the name prior to joining Interpol in 1998 and returns to the moniker here perhaps in an attempt to to scale back the arena-baiting sound of the band's recent work. While Banks' distinctive vocals certainly define the album, it's not a simple case of lumping this in with Interpol's main body of work.

The distinctive Interpol fuzz bass is often present, and pounding drums echo around Fun That We Have and to a certain extent Games For Days (unsurprisingly drummed by Interpol stick man Sam Fogarino), but the songs maintain a more low-key approach throughout, roughing up some of the over-applied polish of later Interpol. Banks' vocals are never quite unleashed to their full volume, but songs like No Chance Survival, the strings of Girl On The Sporting News or stand-out freebie Fun That We Have show another side to Banks that works very nicely.

While this makes is a nice addition to the Interpol cannon, the record does lack wallop in places - and the aforementioned thumping drums of old favourites Obstacle #1 or Not Even Jail would certainly add a bit of clout. Hopefully this side-project will give the day-job a re-boot and we'll leave that for Interpol #4 - I'm in the mood again now.

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4th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Lightning Dust

Infinite Light

Jagjaguwar

The Black Mountain Army are proving to be nothing if not consistent. Since releasing Black Mountain's barn-storming In The Future in 2008, the contributors have been working steadily through their alter egos - with Pinkmountaintops putting out the excellent Outside Love and now alumni Amber Webber and Joshua Wells releasing a second album under the Lightning Dust moniker. I'm expecting a breakthrough album from Blood Meridian next.

Webber's contribution to Black Mountain is not to be over-looked, with her sultry vocals pulling the band back from the brink of parody and adding a mournful sound to the mix. Her vocals also supplied some of the highlights on Outside Love - and she was sorely missed on the supporting tour. With Lightning Dust however, Webber is firmly centre stage - taking on the majority of the writing, as well as guitar and 95% of the vocals.

Where the self titled debut was spare and sultry, Infinite Light is a more filled out and polished affair - much like the latest albums from the previously mentioned strands - and that extra push pays out rich rewards. Where Lightning Dust occasionally strained or became just too sparse, Inifinte Light sweeps and soars, showing a much wider range. Opener Antonia Jane is a country-tinged affair, obligitary lead-free-download I Knew adds some catchy low-key disco electronics and is notable for Well's superb drumming, while the piano-led The Times even threatens to become a sing-a-long. There are mysterious synthesizers and luscious strings, which all add up to a strangely epic vibe - for what is still essentially a small, self-contained record. There's a consistency and clarity here that would make a perfect soundtrack, probably to a modern day western or double crossin' film noir.

That 5% of the vocals that Webber doesn't cover is where this album loses it's half star - momentarily slipping towards that musical theatre vibe as the male vocals intrude on Honest Man. So while the variations are welcome to a certain extent, it's still the mournful voice of Webber that scores the highlights here - leading us effortlessly through the swell of History, the pounding balladry of Wondering What Everyone Knows or the flawless closer Take It Home, which perfectly sums up everything good about this excellent band. Great drums, moody bass, strings that could go on forever and a soaring, epic vocal performance that will put shivers down your spine.

Unmissable.

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

Oneida

Rated O

Jagjaguwar

With a running time of just under two hours Oneida's new triple-album Rated O is not going to be an experience for the faint-hearted, but much-like it's predecessor (Preteen Weaponry - review here) it's a long ride worth strapping in for. Certainly before you wade into this sonic battlefront, you'll want to make sure you're well prepared - most likely with cups of tea and a bong. Let me set the scene: Oneida are big on repetition, they're into bit-crunching and distortion, electronics and real instruments, overt noise and subtle change. Voices are sometimes a sound source rather than a means for conveying lyrics - and musically, there's an unresolved tension running through the whole album.

You might not get much out of this release by just dipping into it or letting shuffle throw you a sonic morsel - but if you're prepared to strap in for the full 110 minutes the experience becomes something more akin to a performance. The first disc is right at home alongside Preteen Weaponry, with a great deal of droning and looping and very much an electronic feel, then at disc two we take a sharp turn and Oneida play a set of songs which are surprisingly straight and structured in nature - this took me by surprise, and put the long psychedelic workouts into a different context. The songs put me in mind of Clinic - rich in ideas, riffs, arrangements, but with that post-dance inclusion of textured noise. Also not a million miles away from Can in spirit and, at times, sound.

The third part of the album has another distinctive feel to it - an altogether less aggressive attitude towards the long improvisations, a chill-out cousin of disc one, culminating in the 20 minute Folk Wisdom which gradually works the energy back up towards the feel of the opening disc.

With this release, Oneida can officially count me as a fan. I like this band because they are serious about what they do. There is a lot of jamming but they are not just fucking around. Years ago when Spiritualized were being mercilessly hyped as the second coming of psychedlia, I really hoped they were going to sound like this instead of the fey gauchos they tuned out to be.

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#HarrisPilton

20th Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Shoot 'Em Up

(dir. Michael Davis)

New Line

The clue is in the title here, in fact most of the script is even in the title. Lone gunman Clive Owen attempts to save a baby from a well-armed arms dealer, as a series of set-pieces run one after another - seemingly contrived around the simplest of premises. Scene 2: gun drops in toilet before hand dryer heats bullets just in time to shoot bad guy. Scene 14: bad guys interrupt Clive getting jiggy, so he keeps at it by multi-tasking. Monica Belluci also stars - dressed down as a lactating wet-nurse hooker. Don't ask.

The plot is thinner than a video game and the action even more pointless. Characters can be a crack shot one minute then run through a hail of bullets unscathed the next. With Paul Giametti hamming it up more than Groucho Marx, and Clive Owen doing little to overcome his one-dimensional reputation, the action is all that's left to sell this film and unfortunately that's not exactly deftly handled.

While John Woo or Xiang Zimou might use too much balletic slow motion, there's at least some thought behind it all - where as this is just a blurry mess. Like a Van Damme movie without 'plot' and Clive Owen in the driving seat, 'Michael' Owen could have done a better job saving this turkey.

Soundtracked like an installment of Guitar Hero, the likes of Wolfmother, Motorhead and Nirvana make up the never-ending stream of rock music (the baby loves it apparently), which attempts to smooth out the faux emotion and misogynistic, sexist, shocking, dull, cartoon violence.

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15th Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Deerhunter

Rainwater Cassette Exchange

Not soon after I sunk my teeth into the promo of Deerhunters recent Microcastle, bonus disc Weird Era Cont. turned up, so it's no surprise given the generosity of this band that we should be treated to this little EP so soon after those last two.

Very little from this band could be described as 'non-essential', their records are so meticulously conceived that you doubt that there was a surplus heap of discarded songs waiting in the wings and this 5 track EP is no exception. With a format like this there really isn't time for Bradford Cox's usual atmospheric experimentations so every song here has the brisk trot that I have come to love about Deerhunter's music. The title track introduces the record gently but soon evolves into a narcotic rhythm that leads us seductively into Disappearing Ink, which would stand it's ground admirably on Microcastle. With a driving guitar structure that keeps its eyes set firmly on the middle distance and pounds its way there, all the time being accompanied by Cox's effect laden vocals. Game Of Diamonds plays out like a 50's high school prom slow jam and sees some beautifully delicate melodies being coaxed gently out of their shell.

Although none of these songs quite match the power and might of songs like Nothing Ever Happened - Microcastle's finest moment - collectively they display this bands versatility, and for that reason it is a worthy small step in this bands progression.

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10th Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Deerhoof / Anabel's Poppy Day / Rumspringa

Scala, London

I dunno, I suppose if you're used to living in somewhere really hot like Australia or the Nevada desert, then maybe the thought of leaving your nice cool house to make a journey on public transport into a stifling metropolis would be no challenge, just normal really. Here in southern England, where the indiginous population carry a complexion that is like the ghost of skimmed-milk, 30-degree plus temperatures make us feel like we're hog-tied in a duffle-coat. There was supposed to be a motocycle protest in London today - I should think that went well - bet they couldn't wait to put on leather, crash helmets and sit astride a slow-moving combustion-engine. Anyway, it's hot, and I didn't much feel like going into London.

Glad I did tho', otherwise I'd have missed a gig that I could easily put in my all-time top 10. The Scala (perhaps London's perfect venue) played host to this triple bill, and first up were Rumspringa - which I'd been rather mistakenley informed were an Amish Ska band. They weren't, and I'm glad. A blues-based guitar and drums duo, the larger half of which is guitarist/singer Joey Stevens. He has a fantastic voice, and plays great blues guitar, writes good songs, so what's not to like? A good start to the evening, in the nicely air-conditioned Scala. Second on the bill was French band Anabel's Poppy Day who came over from Paris on the bus for this gig. Well done, and all that, but an extra rehearsal and the Eurostar might be better next time.  A bit too naive and sloppy to be really good, but there were a couple of catchy melodies and some charming audience chat from squeaky singer (you guessed it) Anabel.

Seeing Deerhoof was one of those rare and wondeful experiences for me - when a live band just takes you to that "other place", when their sound, the atmosphere and the performance all came together just right. They are undoubtably a band at the top of their form, the perfect blend of tight and energetic playing with sweet pop melodies and keep-you-guessing arrangements. The guitar interplay of John Dieterich and Ed Rodriguez is world-class but never in the form of noodle-based fretwank, while drummer Greg Saunier flails his kit with some kind of furious joy. Singer and bass-player Satomi Matsuzaki is so tiny she barely rises above the audiences heads - and she's on stage. She has the most wonderful clear flat-toned voice and an onstage presence which says so much more than "just cute". The band play a lot of material from their two most recent albums (Reviews: 1 / 2), plus cover versions of The Ramones Gabba Gabba Hey and Canned Heat's Going Up The Country. Not a note out of place, and the crowd really showed their appreciation. Everybody left happy AND I had a totally smooth ride home on the train.

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#HarrisPilton

3rd Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Japandroids

Post-Nothing

Polyvinyl Records

The noise pop scene is really picking up steam lately and we have seen the whole drums/guitar due done many times. We've had the recent Wavves breakdown, the vitriolic expletives of Psychedelic Horseshit's Matt Whitehurst and the rather oversensitive Hunches fans so it sure is nice to hear a band who fit the formula but really couldn't give a toss about it as well. Japandroids is Brian King on guitar and David Prowse on drums and their debut album Post-Nothing has all the reckless, punk abandon of an uptight teenager, a knack for hooks like you've never heard and enough perspective to not take itself too seriously.

All you have to do is listen to some of these lyrics to get the M.O. of this band. They're screeched with fledgling raw passion but are shot straight into the sky with enough epic heart to punch a hole in the sun. Young Hearts Spark Fire, one of the finest 5 minutes I've had for a while, states "We used to dream, now we worry about dying," then elaborates, "I don't want to worry about dying, I just want to worry about those sunshine girls." Me too buddy. The goal of Wet Hair is to get to Paris to "french kiss some french girls." I've just got back from Paris and that never happened, I didn't really want to even if I had the opportunity but when you're these kids ages it would seem pretty doable. All this heart is presented over crashing drums and some of the finest driving guitar hooks i've heard for ages. They play like their lives depend on it and with a confidence rarely seen after 25 they instill a beautiful glow of immortality in me every time I hear them. Heart Sweats is one of the many highlights here, the way it mixes the ultimate with the banal in its repetitive mantra, "Your heart's cold as ice girl, I should know I've been to the North Pole / Your soul's black as death girl, I should know I've crossed the threshold / Your style's a mess girl, I should know I used to date a stylist." In these lines they explain both idealism and the priorities of the young. It's genius and it's all delivered forcefully over a chugging structure that keeps renewing itself with unfailing excitement.

There's been much debate about the production of many DIY bands kicking around at the moment and though this isn't Pink Floyd its solid production work give the chunky riffs some profound bite and make the vocal's effortlessly dive over the top. Crazy/Forever crashes around with tinny cymbals then turns on a dime and drops into a deep guitar chord that instantly becomes the driving spinal chord to the longest song on the record. It seems they really don't care if you like this stuff or not, they just have to get it out or they'll explode. I charge anyone to listen to this and not feel a sudden rush of the purest type of nostalgic idealism.

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2nd Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wilco

Wilco (The Album)

Nonesuch

I've got a problem with Wilco.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunset Rubdown

Dragonslayer

Jagjaguwar

Ever since Sunset Rubdown's debut LP Shut Up I Am Dreaming made its welcome and permanent position in my life it has become quite clear that Spencer Krug's side project was threatening to upstage the main event. Now 3 years on and their third album sees the transformation complete. Never before has Wolf Parade sounded more like an afterthought and this band more like the powerhouse it has always threatened to be.

2007's Random Spirit Lover was a studio-built album, almost entirely written while recording and every layer being painstakingly overdubbed and adjusted. The result was tremendous but utterly overwhelming in its size and intensity. Dragonslayer is a totally different story. It is the product of a far more organic recording process with the music being left in its raw state and allowed to grow naturally. Strangely enough, having been born in a contrasting environment, Dragonslayer is just as momentous, but it's also an altogether different creation. Instead of pounding you into blissful submission Dragonslayer sprinkles angel dust in your eyes by way of some truly magnificent compositions and Spencer Krug's writing, which really have no place in a world this cynical.

Random Spirit Lover was all about excess. Almost every song launched into full blown magnitude during the first few bars with Krug filling every corner of each song with frenzied poetry. The first thing you notice about Dragonslayer is the space. The songs are long and the music is allowed time to really explore its territory. Instead of springing out of the blocks most songs here enjoy some of the most sublime introductions I've heard in a long time. Krug makes ambitious music and by gradually raising up these compositions in the way he does here transforms them into stella entities. I never thought he would ever top Shut Up I Am Only Dreaming Of Places Where Lovers Have Wings from the debut but Idiot Heart comes closer than anything else to stealing that crown. With a chugging guitar intro Krug simmers with brilliant clarity and patience. The instruments keep a low but weighty profile with a glorious guitar circling them with wild abandon. "You can't settle down until the Icarus in your blood drowns" mumbles Krug as the whole intricate construction swells in unison on the wing of this guitar work that never fails to light a fire in your heart in the brief time it is given to fly. In over six minutes in length this song dips and dives, hinting at finishing then changing course and hurtling off again.

Black Swan has a drum beat intro that runs for over a minute which is virtually unheard of from this band. Krug and his musicians explode periodically along this beat but then fade away to leave it running in its beautiful simplicity. The raw production employed on these songs is best seen in the lead guitar. On this song it flares and soars with unbridled energy then drops into the rhythm with expert timing. It really gives this album its feeling of limitlessness as it sings such heart wrenching melodies but with such gruff and gravely textures.

I could write endlessly about some of these songs, the dub rhythmical structure of You Go On Ahead (Trumpet Trumpet II), the near electro sound that introduces Nightingale/December Song or the moment Camilla Wynne Ingr first utters her soft vocal pearls on Idiot Heart but music this precious should really be left to be experienced. I could write forever but always fall short of capturing the magic that lies in Krug's crazy heart. He sings of shooting stars, magical palaces, kings and queens and mouthfuls of butterfly wings because these are the only concepts that sit comfortably in this vast imagination. By hiding under the sheltering banner of a side project Krug has managed to sneak up the inside lane and rides comfortably upfront. Propelled by bluebird's wings and dragon's flames he's racing ahead as one of todays finest songwriters and with a band this strong behind him there really is no stopping this glorious insanity.

#Music
#BC

29th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Low Anthem

Oh My God, Charlie Darwin

Bella Union

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

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

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

#Music
#Muxloe

26th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Cosmos

Jar Of Jam Ton Of Bricks

Happy Jack Rock

By the time you’ve read this short review, there’s every chance that Robert Pollard has released another album under one of his various monickers, such is the prolific nature of the 52 year old Ohio native. Regular Pollard-watchers will not be (overly) disappointed with the new Cosmos project - Jar of Jam Ton of Bricks is a mixed bag of quirks and curveballs with the immediately recognisable and strangely comforting voice of Pollard (mostly) at the reigns.

Whether it’s stripped down acoustic (Don’t be A Shy Nurse, Zeppelin Commander), effortless piano-led pop (Nude Metropolis) or all out rockers (The Neighbourhood Trapeze, Westward Ho) it’s Pollard's voice and melodies, signing signature wildly imaginative/just plain odd lyrics that sits atop it all - holding it in place.That is until he hands over singing/song writing duties with Indie stalwart Richard Davies. The strongly-accented Australian steps up to the mic on four fragmented tracks, that sadly punture any momentum JoJToB threatens to build up.

That said, there’s enough here to keep Pollard fans happy until the next project , unless that next project has already been and gone of course.

#Music
#chimpovich

25th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Dinosaur Jr.

Farm

Pias

Anyone familiar with the 1988 film Police Academy 5: Assignement Miami Beach, will surely agree that the old maxim “If ain’t broke don’t fix it”, is one of life’s truer wisdoms. Unluckily for fans of wise-cracking Mahoney, producers of the Police Academy series were too short-sighted to adhere to it. Luckily for Dinosaur Jr. fans, whilst J.Mascis may have lost sight of it for a short period, he’s largely maintained faith in an exceptional guitar talent, a perfect accompanying voice and a seemingly effortless knack for great song writing.

After a much publicised break-up and lengthy seperation, 2007’s Beyond saw the original line-up of Mascis, Lou Barlow and drummer Murph re-unite to produce one of the year’s standout records, picking up the powerful sound that always saw them stand apart from the Grunge crowd they were often unfairly and lazily lumped in with almost 20 years previously. Now, with the three still in happy harmony it seems, they offer us the gift of “Farm” - essentially more of the same and praise be to that.

Less an axe, more an entire tool shed, the guitar in the hands of Mascis is always a pleasure to behold. Just 10 seconds of opener Pieces is all it takes to reassure us we are in familiar territory, with the Mascis guitar taking centre stage, countered by his subtle voice and the bass and drums of Lou Barlow and Murph not shirking back-up responsibility.  The feelgood I Want You To Know, bounces along with a singalong chorus that has potential for serious live favourite. Ocean In The Way slows down the tempo, but keeps the effects pedals down to sound like a fuzzed up Neil Young. Lou steps up for Your Weather, I’ve said it before and it’s undoubtedly an obvious observation, but a Barlow song on a Dinosaur Jr. record always sound like Sebadoh as played by, well, Dinosaur Jr… which, well, rocks.

The wah’d guitar that screams over the intro lets us know that it’s Mascis back at the controls for Over It. Close-to-8-minuter Said The People darkens the mood, whilst the funky riff of See You picks it back up again. Lou’s given the honour of rounding it all off with Imagination Blind, a suitable stomper bringing the curtain down on yet another solid offering from the thankfully unbroken and unfixed Dinosaur Jr.

#Music
#chimpovich

24th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

White Denim

Fits

Full Time Hobby

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

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

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

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

#Music
#BC

23rd Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Flipper

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

Domino

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

#Music
#HarrisPilton

22nd Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

True Blood

(creator: Alan Ball)

FX UK

As a huge Buffy fan I wasn't overly excited by the prospect of another show taking a bite out of the vampire world. But True Blood is strong enough to be a distinct and quite different beast altogether.

The set up is that vampires have finally come out to the human world thanks to a Japanese brand of synthetic blood (Tru Blood - bottled like a six pack) that means they don't have to snack on people anymore. Cue a range of reactions from far-right politicians who want to round them all up ("God Hates Fangs!" to groupies (aka "fang-bangers" in TB-speak) who are keen on getting a closer look for themselves.

It's set in a smalltown in the Cajun south, where waitress Sookie Stackhouse
(Anna Paquin) is excited to find the town's first vampire walking into her bar. Just to add a bit more fantasy to the mix, she's also a telepath who can hear everyone's thoughts around her. She's learned how to block her friends' and co-workers' minds - on the whole - but there are a lot of customers who suddenly find themselves on the wrong end of a drink. But, as she discovers, she can't hear what vampires are thinking...

You can see why Alan Ball was attracted to the Sookie Stackhouse novels that True Blood is based on. Like Six Feet Under, there's plenty of room here to get under the skin of a smalltown community, to discuss smallmindedness, difference and yes, sexuality while telling a great story. Add in a possible serial killer, vampire "drainers", some NSFW scenes, a great cast (including cameos as cops from cult faves Chris Bauer and William Sanderson - aka The Wire's Frank Sobotka and Blade Runner's JF Sebastian) and a strong sense of humour (Sookie's grandmother is thrilled to meet someone from the US Civil War) and you've got the makings of a show worth getting into. Plus the second series has just started in the states so you don't have to worry about it being canned anytime soon.

#TV
#chimp71

20th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Year One

Harold Ramis

Totally tedious outing from the Apatow school of comedy. Hey, what if Jack Black and Michael Cera were like totally cavedudes? And what if they bumped into Cain and Abel? And what if they were like, totally played by David Cross and Paul Rudd? Would hilarious results ensue with total dudely charm? 

You get the idea. In fact, it's all in the trailer. All the good gags (which seem a lot less funny when they're all the film really has) are in the trailer. See that. Avoid this with a prehistoric stick. Once we get to Sodom (hmm, wonder if they'll get any jokes out of that?) the whole thing descends into one of those pointless comedy chase/bust-up/big fights that really make no sense at all. There's an evil king who keeps sacrificing virgins! There's a camp evil high priest! There are fart jokes! Gay jokes! Cera ends up pissing on himself upside down!

It's a shame to see Black and Cera, two naturally talented performers with a good sense of comic timing reduced to the basest level of their (admittedly limited) ranges. Black's all wacky loser guy; Cera's a clever mumbler. It's not enough here. 

Please don't make Year Two.

#Film
#chimp71

19th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Transformers: Revenge Of The Fallen

(dir. Michael Bay)

BANG! CRRRRRSH! NEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOWWW! ARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH! The Fallen has risen! Quick! Grab the All-Spark shard! Don't let the Decepticons get the hidden secret thing! I'm off to college mom and dad, damn they won't let me take my cool robot car or hot girlfriend Megan (she really is a) Fox! I just want a normal non-robot life. Uh-oh! They're back! The Autobots need me?! OK I'll save the world again if I must. Hope I don't rip another T-shirt. Maybe this hacker roommate I've just got will come in useful? CRRRRRSHHH! There they go again! OPTIMUS!!!! Nooooooooo! Quick! Call in the US MILITARY! Transformers are really, really, really old. And MEGATRON'S BACK!! Anyhow, let's BLOW STUFF UP! Run Megan (she really is a) Fox, RUN! Let's find that other dude from the first movie! JET ATTACK! OUTER SPACE!!! UNDERWATER!! Destiny! Call THE ARMY!! BOOOOOOOOOM!!! Let's go to EGYPT!! BLOW UP THE PYRAMIDS!!!! 

Warning: comes with built-in headache. But does deliver on the promise of more robot battles and explosions. And shots of Megan Fox.

#Film
#chimp71

17th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Mr. Woodcock

(dir. Craig Gillespie)

New Line Cinema

After an over-weight childhood of bullying and lack-lustre sporting achievement, John Farley (Seann William Scott) has made a name for himself as a self-help author - thanks to his best-seller about "Letting Go". On returning to his hometown to pick up an achievement award, he discovers to his horror that his widowed mother (Susan Sarandon) is dating the sadistic gym teacher (Billy Bob Thornton) responsible for much of his childhood horror. Much hilarity ensues.

Billy Bob Thornton continues to water down the comedy highs of Bad Santa and Bad News Bears with this pedestrian comedy. Unfortunately this seems like it's made up of out-takes from the already lame School For Scoundrels remake, with Thornton's bullying gym teacher Mr Woodcock sharing the unflinching nasty streak of Dr. P, with a script that shows none of the sympathy of Bad Santa.

Seann William Scott has never showed any promise beyond his cameo as the donkey wrangler in Old School - and his performance here does nothing to upgrade his status. Susan Sarandon, you should know better.

At 87 minutes you'd expect things to whizz by, but with a plot this thin it drags and drags before finishing ungracefully and being immediately erased from my memory.

#Film
#CSF

16th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Bike For Three!

More Heart Than Brains

Anticon

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

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

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

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

#Music
#HHG

15th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Foreign Born

Person To Person

Secretly Canadian

Los Angeles based ‘Foreign Born’ release their new album, ‘Person to Person’- and it’s worth getting to know. This band’s sound is weighty and complex, with each song opening up like a landscape; building and growing, widening out into anthemic musical plains of guitar and synth.

'In the summer we survive the heat', drawls Matt Popieluch in the first track, ‘Blood Oranges’ - all tumbling riffs and a pulsing percussion heart. And that’s how it continues for the next nine tracks; guitar driven melodies and overlaid orchestration of strings and brass that invariably lend the songs real sonic depth.

There’s U2 in the mix, more than a hint of Modest Mouse and traces of the ubiquitous Arcade Fire. This music feels determinately optimistic - the cheerful guitars on ‘Early Warnings’ come out of the blue like a sudden interruption from some gig in downtown Lagos and bring a smile to your face. However across the album Foreign Born’s mood oscillates between hazy, summer warmth and the kind of melodramatic grandeur that comes with watching approaching storm clouds.

There are no rainbows without showers and the latter half of ‘Person to Person’ brings with it a soft melancholy in the more reflective songs: ‘It Grew On You’ and ‘See Us Home’. But even here, each track’s increasing momentum is driven along by Garrett Ray’s drums and the band’s enthusiasm that keeps insisting on something golden over the horizon.

#Music
#LG

12th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Psychoville

(creator: Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton)

BBC Two

New darkcom from two of the writers from The League Of Gentlemen, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith. Where LOG was essentially a collection of oddballs sketches framed around the loose idea of a locals-only village, Psychoville is aiming to be a more coherent story. The frame is a blackmail plot, with a mysterious stranger sending the characters the same note: "I know what you did". Last summer? The summer before last? 

There's a similar love of the grotesque here: characters range from a mother and son who share a trainspotting love of serial killers to Mr Jelly ("Keeps Kids Quiet") - a clown who can barely contain his rage; a midwife with an unhealthy attachment to a demonstration baby (played by Dawn French); a blind collector who's hunting toys on eBay; a psychic dwarf and a mean panto Snow White.

It's a bit like being trapped in an English seaside town with all the shops shut, where people are tweaking out from behind their curtains: you know something interesting and possibly disturbing is going on, but you mind not want to hang out with them while you find out what it is. Some of the serial killer stuff's a bit on the gleeful side, like schoolboys sniggering at how much they can get away with, and the mum and son Sowerbutts team are pretty gross, while other bits like Siamese twins the Crabtree hovering over eBay sisters tap into a pretty unique take on modern life, and the sight of Mr Jelly punching out Mr Punch is very funny. 

If you're a League fan, you'll enjoy visiting Psychoville; if it left you a little mystified then no doubt you'll be in the same zone here. Fans will enjoy the added online element, which allows you to access bonus stuff every week on the Psychoville site if you pay attention to all the clues littered throughout each episode. It's this attention to detail and love of the genre that makes it a success, and it's encouraging to see a show that doesn't feel like it's come through the focus-grouped world of sitcom development. The mystery element should keep you coming back too, no matter how daft the set up feels at first.

#TV
#chimp71

10th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Sonic Youth

The Eternal

Matador

As a teenager, once I got over the total, utter, complete sell-out of Sonic Youth moving from legendary indie labels like Homestead and SST to undeniably major label Geffen in 1990, it was obvious pretty quickly that nothing had changed for the band. While my interest seemingly waned after Experimental Jetset, a quick scan through the back-catalogue reveals that I have inadvertently absorbed every major release - and none could be described as disappointing or flat. After releasing 9 albums with the label, Sonic Youth left Geffen in 2007, before pulling the typically left-field move of releasing a greatest hits exclusively through Starbucks, then self-re-released Master Dik and finally settling with Matador for the release of The Eternal.

While The Eternal is being promoted as something of a new chapter for the band, there's no need to reset your expectations - and you're certainly in no danger of being disappointed. Early single Sacred Trickster kicks things off, before the abrasive pummel of Anti-orgasm lets you know the band have lost none of their power - or their ability to craft a catchy tune. The sing-a-long style of Leaky Lifeboat (For Gregory Corso) sits comfortably alongside the screeching rock of Calming The Snake, making for a strangely cohesive record.

Jim O'Rourke may have departed in 2005, but the open slot in the line-up made room for former Pavement bassist Mark Ibold and his contribution is note worthy here, providing a focused spine through many of the songs that the guitars swirl closely around. The best songs on the album follow the same pattern that my Sonic favourites always did: a simmering, bubbling pot of sound that harnesses the power of a storm and takes its shape as a subtly catchy leviathan. Antenna, What We Know, Malibu Gas Station - there's more than a handful of excellent tracks on here that will disappoint no one.

While 2006's Rather Ripped and Thurston Moore's own solo album have arguably moved the band into a more conventionally structured sequence of songs, it's easy to forget how much the musical landscape has shifted since the band's early, pioneering albums of the 80s. The feedback drenched sounds of Sister or Daydream Nation are now considered essential listening - due to the popularity of the 90s alternative explosion that Sonic Youth helped enable. As a result, it's easy not to appreciate how radical a custom-tuned 9.43 minute closing track like Massage The History may have once seemed.

While the girls may be commenting how good Kim Gordon's legs are for a 56 year old, I'm just happy that the band have kept their ambition and refusal to conform. It may not be so much of a new chapter, but at least The Eternal is the continuing story of an old favourite.

#Music
#CSF

9th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Odd Nosdam

T.I.M.E Soundtrack

Anticon

The veteran Anticon producer follows up 2007's Full length Level Live Wires with a collection of hip hop pieces soundtracking the Element Skateboards' film This Is My Element. Each song is tailored to fit the Element skater it accompanies and so is a slightly fractured piece of work but one that sees this beatsmith on strangely upbeat territory crafting some of the dopest beats we've every seen from him.

Famous for his work on cLOUDDEAD, Odd Nosdam is known for his droney-wash soundscapes that fit better into a sound-art category rather than hip hop. Level Live Wires did much to alter this image of him and with this as its followup we see an already awe inspiring producer evolving into something quite special.

The trademark touches are firmly in place here. His work with cLOUDDEAD was meticulously crafted and every sound was enshrouded in fuzz, haze and feedback. this is an altogether cleaner affair but the beats, whether crunching and ominous like on T.I.M.E In or delicate and floating as in Ethereal Slap, rarely travel alone and are muffled and textured with such care and attention that makes them endlessly listenable. Whereas the emphasis in the past has been on oppressive textures songs like We Bad Apples with its guitar-driven melody and the booming Trunk Bomb transform this record into an absolute stomper.

Not surprisingly these songs work best when experienced in the context in which they were created. Seeing the pop/grind/land sequence in Nyjah Huston's opening section of the Elements film happen to the deep beats of the blissful Top Rank is endlessly satisfying and when Jeremy Wray lands a ginormous ollie over some stairs right on the beak of We Bad Apples it is truly awesome. This hazy hip hop obviously doesn't suit Bam Margera's style of anarchy so an appropriately brutal piece of punk has to be drafted in for his section. Elements boast a pretty hefty line up and with people like Mike Vallely and Chad Muska in this film it can't really fail but I've never seen a skate film's soundtrack entirely composed by one producer and it really unites the film into a concise whole rather than the sum of its parts. T.I.M.E is an impressive work both on film and on record and marks the point where this producer turns a corner.

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8th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Blank Dogs

Under And Under

In The Red

Blank Dogs is certainly something of an enigma. The Banksy of the noise-pop scene, he remains pretty much anonymous, choosing to hide his face under bed sheets or bandages for press photos. But the solidity of his work suggests that instead of being merely a cheap gimmick to attain notoriety this mystery serves to let the music do all the talking, and judging by the endless string of limited edition releases that have emerged over the last few years and now this, his latest full length, they argue a pretty good case. The one thing we do know about Blank Dogs is that it's singular but for this album he enlists the help of label mates Crystal Stilts and Vivian Girls. The results are impressive.

There seems to be a constant and for the most part welcome stream of fuzzed out noise punk assaulting my ears at the moment but what makes this sound stand apart from all the rest is that its emphasis isn't on 60's rock inspired, redlined garage guitar but opts for programmed beats, synthesizers and a heavy dose of 80's post-punk, goth and new wave. Much like On Two Sides, Blank Dogs' previous album, Under And Under rolls with a deep bass structure, effect laden guitar and a voice so submerged it could be from a different universe altogether. The title of this new release suggests the direction by which it parts company with its predecessor. The booming muffle of these songs impressively drags all that we learnt from On Two Sides way down to almost indecipherable darkness.

The genius of this record is the way he manages to elaborately construct his songs around distant Cure basslines while layering his monotone Joy Division vocals without ever sounding like a rip off. Setting Fire To Your House has a core that is straight out of The Cure's A Forest but it's a sheer delight. It seems to borrow all of the sounds that defined my early musical appreciation and drag them all under water to their deaths. Things are slowed down to a relentless mid-tempo and with all the effects that swirl around the feeling is like watching flash-backs of your life disappear under murky slush. Cutting through all this slush is the screech of distorted guitar that rudely imposes itself on standout songs like No Compass and Around The Room. With scant regard for anything this guitar carves out some of the most surprisingly satisfying melodies ever seen in this genre.

Unlike the recent Crocodiles record that at times seemed to find it hard to let loose the weight of its influences, Blank Dogs serves up a masterclass of how to honor those influences but treat them as starting blocks from which this guy springs forth very successfully. The last bedroom genius of this genre I got excited about was Wavves and as we've just witnessed his very public fall from grace lets hope this hooded enigma has more to offer.

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5th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Moon

(dir. Duncan Jones)

Great debut from Duncan Jones. Sam Rockwell is coming to the end of a three year solo ops mission on the moon, looking after a Helium-3 mining operation that's supplying the earth with a safe and efficient fuel source. He's kept company by Gertey, a happy-faced robot voiced by Kevin Spacey (apt name for this role), and regular video messages from his family. Of course, there wouldn't be much of a film if we just watched him going about his daily routine for too long without something going wrong up there...

Feels like it's been a while since we had a decent indie sci-fi to enjoy and it's not hard to see why: thanks to juggernaut franchises like The Matrix, Star Wars and Terminator, the genre as a whole has become the preserve of multi-million $$$ operations, relying on huge FX budgets and ear-crushing Dolby to make you believe we're in the future or in a galaxy far, far away from the one that gave us films like Dark Star or Silent Running. Even the original Terminator was a relatively low-budget affair when you look back from the perspective of Terminator: Salvation.

From the start you can tell that Jones hasn't forgotten that sci-fi didn't always equal huge budgets. That's not to suggest that Moon is held together with bits of string. Far from it. Instead, this is a film that's used its bucks wisely - reviving the use of models and carefully constructed sets to create a satisfying, lived-in feel to the lunar base. They've used CGI where needed as well, and the combo is great. From the fonts they've used for Lunar Industries, the corporate space mining operation, to the ceiling tracks that Gertey runs around, you can tell that Jones has distilled a lifetime of space-love into the look and feel here - without forgetting to write an interesting - and relevant story.

This is a film about corporate greed and industrial cynicism as much as it is about personal revelation, loneliness and freaky space oddities - exactly the sort of depth and reach that's been missing from sci-fi for a long time. If you've seen the trailer ("The last place you'd expect to find yourself...") you'll have some idea of the arena its heading into - if you haven't, this would be an ideal film to watch cold; we won't go into the mechanics of the plot here other than to say that the ping-pong scene is a treat, and that Sam Rockwell does a really impressive job as the lunar lander here. Perfectly pitched trippy soundtrack too from Clint Mansell, ex-Pop Will Eat Itself singer. 

A highly enjoyable indie sci-fi that's more than the sum of its references - well worth a trip.

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3rd Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Thee Oh Sees

Help

In The Red

With John Dwyer's last offering still welcomely ringing in my ears the San Francisco band drop its followup, a worthy partner and one that accurately identifies its predecessors strengths and wisely chooses to focus on these. In all its many incarnations Dwyer's latest band has itself taken all sorts of twists and turns musically. Thee Oh Sees originally started out as an expression of Dwyer's softer side, emerging out of the raucous noise of his previous bands Pink And Brown and Coachwhips he delivered a lo fi folk sound that was somber but beautiful. Last years The Masters Bedroom Is Worth Spending A Night In changed all that with Dwyer expanding his formation into a wild concoction of psychedelia and gritting rockabilly garage noise. Help is nowhere near such a dramatic turn as His Masters Bedroom was and continues this sound but hacks off the fat leaving twelve solid songs and very little fillers.

Help draws straight, dark lines to both the British psychedelic rock bands like The Creation and the caveman thud of The Troggs. Dwyer's howl is very much at the forefront of this sound albeit buried by the mounting rock scuzz muscle that surrounds it. It's hard to pick standout moments on an album of this consistency but Go Meet The Seed covers this bands strengths perfectly. The chugging guitar that forms the hefty structure all the way through it is stark and basic but pounds relentlessly. The vocals are given space which is something that rarely happened in the last album but really pays off. Brigid Dawson's harmonies still shadow Dwyer's every move to great effect and juxtapose the grit of the music. This song really illustrates the growth that has occurred since the last record, it leans back and allows each element of this sound to flex. Thankfully the ragged ferocity still remains and I Can't Get No sees this expressed in all its straight up glory. It's a fraction of the length of Go Meet The Seed but crams all the elements into a short stab of simple-as-hell rockabilly joy.

Having ditched the momentary noise freakouts that occasionally rendered the last record fragmented but keeping the Cramps influence, Dwyer has created a record that seems to be a culmination of all of his previous projects and one that showcases his talents as a songwriter perfectly. His work often challenges but never takes itself too seriously, it seems to emerge with great ease and listening to it is definitely getting more pleasurable by every release. He's more prolific than most but the quality seems to rising at the same rate as the quantity.

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2nd Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Jason Lytle

Islington Academy, London

May 28th, 2009

The last time I saw Jason Lytle was at Brixton Academy in 2003 on the biggest ever Grandaddy tour. Behind his defunct keyboard equipment shone a huge screen that dazzlingly projected films to accompany every song. Snow Patrol were the little known support act. How times have changed. Snow Patrol are huge for some strange reason and Grandaddy are no more. But as I watched this reluctant indie hero shuffle on to the stage in the far more intimate surroundings of the Islington Academy it was clear that this change of circumstances were fine by him.

He doesn't take center stage anymore staying off to the right behind his intricately wired equipment. Cleanly shaven (and unnervingly resembling Keifer Sutherland) he emerged after a curiously dramatic operatic recorded intro in which a female voice asks "who's playing tonight, Oh he's the guy from that band Grandaddy," and he found himself in the presence of his religiously adoring fans who have waited a long time for this. As soon as his first breathy word was uttered it was like seeing an old fiend for the first time in ages. With a new band behind him he treated us to multiple picks from his new solo record and some choice Grandaddy cuts, although none from the last record.

For any long term fan of his former band it was a joyous thing indeed to hear the opening bars to Chartsengrafs as the first song rang out. A magnificently extended rendition of Jed's Other Poem awaited us a few songs later but the real treat was two of my favorite songs from this impeccable back catalogue, Levitz and the Crystal Lake B side Our Dying Brains, which always sounds better live than in original form. Obviously he played the new material with evident pride and glancing round the crowd during songs like Yours Truly and Brand New Sun it was clear how well received these new songs are as everybody mouthed the words as if singing along to the classics. Whether fronting Grandaddy or standing alone on the stage Jason Lytle is consistently a class live act. He has an uncanny power to render you gooey eyed with dreamy nostalgia and no matter what torrent of noise he raises up around his vocals his words are always crystal clear, shining out with dazzling clarity through perfect sound production.

With a curiously short rendition of the second half of He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's The Pilot as the encore the band left the stage all too early. I suppose they had to go sometime and we could all have stayed there until dawn broke but this exit seemed unplanned and sudden. Whatever the reason it sure was good to have the boy back in our town. As he paused halfway through the all time crowd favorite A.M.180 and stated, "here I am back in London playing this annoying melody," the London crowd rapturously thanked their hero for the memories.

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1st Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wavves

Wavvves

Bella Union

Wavves is the solo project of San Diego's Nathan Daniel WIlliams and that's the simple part. This is his second full length release, the first came out earlier this year and was self titled and featured the song Wavves, which was one of the best songs on the album. Both records have as their cover image, a faded photograph of a kid on a skateboard in his backyard and both will fix your head in a homemade vice but you'll love every minute of it.

Much like its front cover which features a kid attempting a drop-in off a wheelbarrow in the 70's, the debut record was pumped full of hazy nostalgia, disaffected youth rebellion, boyish reverie and was all churned out with the same DIY scuzz that you'd expect from a wheelbarrow drop-in. This follow-up features a more zoomed in shot of the same kid but this time he's found an actual ramp and it's possible to see a link between these two visual differences. They both thrash uncontrollably between slacker-punk and twisted surf-rock, they're both shrouded in red-line production and they're both pretty damn gnarly but this followup is more focused, more fluid and much like the difference between a wheelbarrow and a ramp when it comes to skateboarding this one is way more fun.

He's got himself a drummer on this new record and it makes a big difference. Together they scoop up the sticky floor-muck that is left behind after your average punk gig and recycle it back into music. Incorporating elements of Sonic Youth, Nirvana, the Beach Boys and contemporaries like No Age and Sic Alps, Williams masterfully evokes every musical and social teenage experience I can remember and filters it all through claustrophobic production. The two most obvious central anthems are So Bored and No Hope Kids. Both illustrate Williams' knack for crafting perfect pop hooks and melodies and then burying it all under a ton of feedback and general punk noise. They clatter around as if directionless but even in their most abrasive spells the pop element is always adhered to. I use that word 'Pop' with some pretty heavy inverted commas around it, but in this context it represents direction, be that melody or rhythm. Everything possible is done to submerge this element but it ends up carrying most of these songs to their successful conclusion.

To sum up, may I use the Paris Hilton vernacular and call Wavves my NFB (New Favorite Band) This title has been awarded for some pretty base level reasons. Williams makes proper punk rock that while doused in the contemporary trend of red-line production hollers with teenage nostalgic abandon and instantly takes me back to sunny days spent hating the world and dropping-in off wheelbarrows. Good times.

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29th May 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Crocodiles

Summer Of Hate

Fat Possum

The days of getting into new bands by the thank you's in the liner notes of a record are sadly long gone, as bittorrent downloads don't come with such added details, but the ever increasing ripples of excitement that are emanating from this band have largely originated from the fact that No Age included their self released 7" Neon Jesus in their Top Ten Songs of 2008.

The fact that No Age mentioned them in the first place is in itself quite misleading. Crocodiles are pretty scuzzy with ample feedback and effects permeating through each note but their adherence to pop sensibilities remove them quite considerably from the brand of noise punk that No Age craft. Long time friends Charles Rowell and Brandon Welchez hail from sunny San Diego and I guess Summer Of Hate emerges from an alternative and less glamorous Californian life that is filtered over to us here, a life of hum drum days and bored teenagers. So as a result you get an album drenched in hazy sunshine but dripping with grime. I say 'dripping with grime' but this may be a slight exaggeration. One scratch at this greasy surface and a gleaming pop structure reveals itself below. In fact, without even scratching another structure reveals itself, that of The Jesus And Mary Chain. I Wanna Kill, an extremely catchy piece of scuzz pop, is built almost entirely on the frame work of Head On, the same drum beats and a hook that follows the 80's hit to the letter. But instead of holding this against them, the song and the rest of the record is so satisfying that I find myself carrying on regardless. Soft Skull (In My Room) is a damn near perfect blend of dub rock and art-punk madness.

The record can be divided quite equally into two types of approach, that of the afore mentioned spiky pounders and the tripped out atmospherics of songs like Here Comes The Sky and the title track which swirls around like a modern day Velvets submerging the distant vocals in layer upon layer of effect laden melodies. There's enough of a blend of 80's synth beats and very contemporary punk rock grit to make this much more than a cheap rehash. It has a refreshingly different agenda than a lot of the noise pop acts around at the moment. It isn't very noisy and it doesn't aim to pummel you but rather seethes with tension and anxiety. Though Crocodiles at times seem to be hovering tentatively on the fringes of the noise punk sound as if not quite confident enough to dive headlong in their decision to keep an eye on melody make this a familiar yet rewarding listen.

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28th May 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Ohbijou

Beacons

Bella Union

‘Ohbijou’ (literally ‘Oh, jewel!) is a sparkling confection crafted by Canadian singer Casey Mecija and her 6-strong ensemble. 'This is what an album would sound like if it were made by your girlfriend...' was my friend’s response to a selection of songs from ‘Beacons’. Further interrogation elicited this description of his generic, ‘Girlfriend’; a sort of anti-‘Weird-Science’ concoction whose DNA profile reads ‘Highly-strung victim of Romance Trauma’. I guess he might have been picking up on the weary sighs and wistful instrumentation which give the music of ‘Ohbijou’ a low-fi, mournful sincerity.

I’m more of the opinion that this is what an album would sound like if your girlfriend were an elf. An elf, in fact, with a penchant for the songs of Feist and Kate Bush. Casey Mecija deploys a gnomic voice whose unusual timbre and fragility ultimately charmed me. Top tracks ‘Cliff Jumps’ and ‘Cannon March’ work a nice exchange between synth and strings; cellos, mandolins and keyboard. You are never quite sure what Casey is singing about but apparently she ‘pens songs wrought with the Romantic afflictions of big city life’. What I heard were alternately cheerful melodies, with bounce and verve, fine instrumentation and a gentle sparkle.

Less successful when emulating the building, orchestral crescendos of Arcade Fire, ‘Beacons’ is, for the most part, delicately spun and moving. I suspect Casey’s boyfriend isn’t worried.

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27th May 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet