Chimpomatic

House Of Saddam

BBC/HBO

Decent attempt to make some sense of the Saddam Hussein era, with a four-part drama that plays like the Sopranos with more sand. 

The cast includes Igal Naor (Rendition, Munich) as Saddam Hussein, Shohreh Aghdashloo (24, House Of Sand And Fog) as Saddam's wife Sajida, Philip Arditi (10 Days To War) as Saddam's oldest son Uday, Said Taghmaoui (Vantage Point, The Kite Runner, La Haine) as Saddam's half-brother Barzan Ibrahim, and Christine Stephen-Daly (Casualty, Cutting It) as Saddam's mistress Samira.

With occasional glimpses of the real Saddam in period news footage, you get a sense of what was going on behind the CNN image. LIke the Sopranos, or even the Corleones, life with someone like Saddam is like life in a volatile feudal court - you never know if you're about to be handed a great new job, or shot in cold blood to make a point. 

The history's handled well, taking us back to the roots of the first Gulf War and the first President Bush, before bringing us up to date by the final ep. Noar doesn't play him sympathetically, but does a good job of essaying his obvious charisma and showing the kind of drive he must have had to become President. Occasionally feels like they've perhaps made them all a little more eloquent than they might have been just to get some great lines in, but on the whole it's an intriguing, convincing portrait of one of the world's most recent political monsters.

#TV
#chimp71

30th Jul 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Criminal Justice

(dir. Otto Bathurst, Luke Watson)

BBC

Excellent thriller running over five consecutive nights on BBC1 (Mon 30 Jun - Fri 4 Jul) that manages to combine elements of prison, police and the legal system to bring a 360 sense of what it's like to be thrust into a murder trial. 

Ben Whishaw (Perfume, Nathan Barley) wakes up after a wild night to find there's blood on his hands (literally), panics, and then finds himself the prime suspect in a gory murder. 

What's great here is that each episode shows the experience from as many different perspectives and in as many arenas as possible. We get the full-on Oz-like terror of suddenly finding yourself in a British prison, not knowing who to trust or make deals with. There's the confusion of being grilled by the police while your brief is advising you to offer "no comment" to everything, even though you just want to explain yourself. There's the frustration of the arcane legal system, making deals behind the scenes, playing a dangerous game of oneupmanship in court. The tension of his parents who don't quite know what to believe. The desperate loneliness of a suspect who can't even fully trust himself because he simply can't remember what happened.

The top-notch cast includes Pete Postlethwaite, David Harewood, Bill Paterson, Con O'Neill and Lindsay Duncan.

Not sure how it's going to do in this format - five straight nights is probably no more commitment than catching Big Brother every night, but it's worth setting the Sky+ for or iPlayering (is that a verb yet?) it all - you shouldn't miss any of this. 

#TV
#chimp71

27th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Cans Festival

Leake Street, London

This cleverly named exhibition shows how far street art has come in the last ten years. Anyone who's lived in or around London for any length of time will be so used to seeing Banksy's creations come and go around town and with the exhibitions in America making front page headlines and his work being sold to countless celebrities, so it was no surprise that when I turned up to this Bank Holiday festival of stencil art curated by and including the 'man' himself the queue was round the block.

In case you don't know, this all takes place on Leake street, a tunnel under the old Eurostar at Waterloo station and it contains stencil paintings and sculptures by various street artists including Banksy. Anyone can contribute to this show throughout the weekend but it is strictly limited to stencil art only. There's a reception made out of an old caravan that artists have to register at where they will then be guided to the remaining free space on which to leave their mark. The result is a visual feast and a fantastically concentrated platform for this art. It seemed strange to be queuing for a highly organised exhibition of anarchic art, especially under a towering billboard that reads 'Gentrify This' but once you've made it through you'll find it was worth the wait.

You're not allowed to paint over anyone else's work so everything is tastefully placed but the quality is impressive. Dotted around burnt out cars, painted sofas and ice cream vans are thousands of images that all seem to behave perfectly with each other. The whole tunnel is totally covered with work and doused in dripping paint and if you can get a glimpse through the wall of flashing cameras you'll be glad you came. Every manner of culture has been thoroughly trashed from Michaelangelo's David, The Queen, Andy Warhol, our beloved hoodies and our (apparently) equally beloved Boris.

It's all very exciting and very hard to find a bad word to say about such an event being staged for free at a location as tourist-friendly as this. Banksy never seems to run out of good ideas these days and even though it's way more interesting to come across one of his visual one-liners on some dingy back ally in Hackney, to see some of these works on the scale that they are shown here is great. To be honest, I'm a bit bored of this stuff. It's so commonplace now and never seems to rise above its obvious, anti-establisment message but as an event in the capital I take my hood off to them. If this was Ken's swan song then thanks for the memories dude.

#HHG

9th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Death Set

Worldwide

Counter Records

For a number of quite obvious reasons, it’s not very often that I compare myself to Arnold ‘The Governator’ Schwarzenegger, nor for that matter Hulk ‘The Hulk’ Hogan or perhaps for younger readers Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson. However, listening to the debut album ‘Worldwide’ by the much travelled The Death Set, got me thinking of the pumped-up trio of Strongmen-turned-actors - more specifically the fish-out-of-water genre of films that each turned their not inconsiderable hand to. I’m thinking Arnie’s Kindergarten Cop, the Hulk’s Mr Nanny and The Rock’s recent fodder Game Plan, each of which feature our macho and mature heroes lost and cut adrift in a world of small children and high energy.

I’ll make no claim to macho, but am inevitably maturing and on first listen found Worldwide a disorientating experience, like finding yourself in a classroom of screaming kids and an empty crate of red bull. Making the Go Team sound middle of the road - it’s hard to stomach in one sitting. 18 songs in 26 minutes gives you an idea of the frenetic pace and energy of the album.

The band were spawned in Australia, temporarily based themselves in Brooklyn before settling in Baltimore, attracted by the city’s abandoned factories and their potential for holding kick-ass parties, and it’s seeing footage and photos of those kick-ass parties (ie Live shows) that help paint a bigger picture as to what The Death Set are all about. It’s a raucous affair, with the band placing themselves out on the floor, amongst the fans, with no shortage of blood, sweat and beer. They bring to mind the photos of Glen E. Friedman, who documented the US Hardcore scene of the early 80's – whereas punk back then was played at breakneck speed and driven by anger, The Death Set play at breakneck speed, but seem to be angry at anger, naming as they do, comedy and positivity as major influences.

I regard a bunch of those Hardcore bands as early personal favourites (Minor Threat, Circle Jerks, Black Flag). but there is no way I could maintain that pace and energy and inyourfacefuckyouness as the years pass. So, The Death Set, whilst cajoling a bit of nostalgia, aren’t going to be on heavy rotation in chimpovich palace, which of course is my problem and not theirs. Whilst they’re burning down the scene and hosting kick-ass parties, I’ll be lamely heading to the gym, trying to transform this gut into something nowhere near approaching Hulk, Rock and Arnie proportions.

#Music
#chimpovich

16th Apr 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Speck Mountain

Summer Above

Peacefrog

Released way back in 2006, Summer Above - the debut album Chicago's Speck Mountain - is finally reaching our European ears  and like a fine rain it has seeped into my life without me even realizing. Entirely self-produced this record is one of such profound yet subtle beauty that you'll have to be careful not to miss it. Its impact is slow-release and comes in the form of dreamy, psychedelic pop-rock, built on organ drones, shimmering guitars and singer Marie-Claire Balabanian's soft, sedated, honey-dipped vocals.

The title song chimes in with dirty, jangly guitars which lay down an almost 2 minute long soundscape for the first, sweet breath of Balabanian's voice. Close and intimate, nobody is in any hurry to prove themselves here and by the end of this opening track the spell is cast. Hey Moon is a stripped down slice of minimal expertise while Midnight Sun shines with melancholic warmth. Fjord Song sees Balabanian's vocals dripping in reverb and as a result vast caverns of sound emerge from this previously barren landscape like long forgotten monuments. This seems to clear the way for a new and fresher sound and Chlorine Fields is the mighty forerunner of this. At over 8 minutes long it holds you with baited breath in suspended animation before embarking on a tripped out instrumental marathon that sees swirling organ spiraling into an abyss of droning guitar and a thick fog of sound. And if the advancing rain of this record has been building to this point then album closer Blood Is Clean is the fresh result of a storm passing. Clean and crisp, it is the antidote to the previous song and with typical restraint it finishes this record off perfectly.

Speck Mountain have brought with them comparisons to such bands as The Velvet Underground and Mazzy Star, they could also inspire memories of more contemporary sounds like that of Yo La Tengo but ultimately their success is all their own. There is a confidence and humility here that slows the whole thing down to a gentle hum. They effortlessly create space then take their time to fill it. It's repetition and time that makes this sound bore its way into your soul, it swirls with glorious psychedelia but Balabanian's vocals have a focus and clarity that maintain a foreground presence and keeps things from descending into hazy, intoxicated obscurity. Like an exploding star the light of Speck Mountain has taken its time to reach us but now that it's here we can all bask in its warmth.

#Music
#BC

3rd Apr 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Mountain Goats

Heretic Pride

4AD

If you've ever come in contact with our hip hop reviewer HHG you'll know it's probably not something you want to happen on a daily basis. He knows his stuff but he's a snob and thinks hip hop's the only music, not to mention his uncontrollable temper and borderline chauvanism. He's a valid member of the Chimp team but most of us here try not to have much to do with him for reasons already mentioned. So you can imagine my disappointment when his hulking frame approached me in the Chimp canteen one day last year. Standing there stinking of weed he asks, " Yo, Bear dude, who the fuck is this John Darnielle?"

Turns out his narrow field of musical experience was momentarily widened when The Mountain Goats frontman guest starred at the end of the recent Aesop Rock album. Much as I resent Darnielle for inadvertently bringing me into contact with my skunk soaked colleague it's clear that last years collaboration has opened the flood gates on Darnielle's own sphere of musical experience and brought out a thrilling surge in volume, tempo and excitement to this bands work.

Darnielle has always expressed a masterful penchant for storytelling, in few words he can evoke oceans of emotion, the slightest turn of phrase and he can explain a feeling or situation that you've been trying to pin down your whole life. When we last saw him he was struggling with solitude in the aftermath of a breakup in 2006's desolate Get Lonely. It's clear from the first drum stick count ins that the volume has picked up here but don't think for a minute that Darnielle is using this volume to express a new found lust for life. He might have addressed his romantic troubles since Get Lonely exclaiming in the album opener "I am coming home to you" but he follows it "with my own blood in my mouth." This new surge in musical arrangements serves more to express his heightened sense of fear and impending doom. The sorrow from 2006 has grown into taut anguish. On Lovecraft In Brooklyn he admits, "I woke up afraid of my own shadow, like genuinely afraid."

At the heart of this record lurks paranoia, tension and violence seen most effectively in the two songs that form the records backbone both in form and theme. In The Craters On The Moon builds with tight, drumbeat like guitar strums and heightened strings to a thunderous crescendo while Lovecraft In Brooklyn is a switchblade-wielding powerhouse prediction of death and destruction. This is contrasted in songs like Autoclave and the delicate So Desperate, which both show this songwriters continuing vulnerability.

Whether he's gently plucking, violently thrashing or soaring on great orchestral waves this record shows a refreshing array of musical expertise. How To Embrace A Swamp Creature employs sparkling jewels of instrumentation that glisten around Darniell's lyrics like looming rocks in the dazzling sunlight. Another reason for this renewed rise in tempo could be that Darnielle has more company on this record. Get Lonely was a stark portrayal of a man alone while here we have complex string arrangements (San Bernardino) and airy female vocals (Marduk T-Shirt Men's Room Incident) all joining together to create a far richer landscape than the ones inhabited in the past. This is undoubtedly The Mountain Goats most accessible record to date but it sacrifices none of the qualities that made the other albums. Darnielle is a very human song writer, weather he's using himself as the subject or creating complex characters to play out his view of this experience we call life he casts a light over this experience and though this reveals things we don't want to see they serve to enlighten us and inform us that little bit more about the human condition.

#Music
#BC

26th Feb 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

No Country For Old Men

(dir. Ethan & Joel Coen)

Paramount Vantage

From their debut with Blood Simple in 1984 through to bowling classic The Big Lebowski in 1998, the Coen brothers went on a pretty much unrivalled 7 film run of non-duds. Sadly they followed this with a sequence of four films that fell far below The Dude inspired peak - from Lebowski follow up O’Brother Where Art Thou? in 2000 to the universally panned Ladykillers in 2004. After that they went on a bit of a hiatus, resurfacing briefly to contribute to Paris J’Taime - a collection of short films about a French city.

Now they are back and in some style with No Country for Old Men. Taken from the novel by Cormac McCarthy, ...Old Men opens with generally decent man of few words Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) hunting deer on the plains. Through the telescopic sight of his rifle he spies a bunch of pickup trucks and corpses, which, on closer inspection proves to be the endgame of a drug deal gone badly wrong. With a big briefcase full of money laying there without any obvious (living) owner, Moss the opportunist grabs the loot, believing he and his sweetheart back at the trailer park (Kelly Macdonald) have just stumbled upon a life changing slice of fortune.

Which is true, but not as he thinks. You see that money belongs to somebody and soon Llewelyn realises he’s got a serious problem, in the form of weird assasin Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), on his tail. As the tagline says “There are no clean getaways”. Throw reluctant Sherrif Tommy Lee Jones and a bunch of angry Mexicans into the mix and a bloody game of cat and mouse across the southern states and into Mexico ensues.

Whilst there are a few obvious ‘Coen Brother’ touches where they find humour in some of the darkest places (Chigurh’s haircut for example), they generally play it straight - allowing the story, scenery and performances to drive the film leisurely but efficiently over its two hour duration. In this respect it resembles the excellent The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, the Tommy Lee Jones directed revenge film from a couple of years back. Like that film, the Texan born Lee Jones once again proves himself to be a master of the actions-speak-louder-than-words old school character of the South. But it’s Spanish actor Bardem (along with his hair and possibly the biggest gun-silencer in movie history) that really steals the film, as he menacingly takes no prisoners on his pursuit of Moss and the cash.

Rightly cleaning up plaudits all over the place, No Country for Old Men is a mighty return to form for the Coen brothers. Amen to that.

#Film
#chimpovich

15th Feb 2008 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Diableros

The Diableros Aren't Ready For The Country

The Diableros' first album You Can't Break The Strings On Our Olympic Hearts was made on a shoe string but was a musical rags to riches tale. It stood proud as one of the best albums of 2006 and 2 years on it still holds its place. Since its release the Toronto band have seen their success spread way beyond their Canadian borders but still remain a well kept secret over here. But some secrets are best unkept and their follow up, though not a massive progression only goes to confound this fact. If you got on at the ground floor with these guys you'll find the second floor has much the same decor but is more spacious.

Taken it's title from Neil Young's Ready For The Country, this record sticks to the script set by its predecessor. It's the slightly more grown-up older brother, more far reaching yet more mature, it's bigger and slightly more controlled but also lacks some of the spirited, wet-behind-the-ears passion of the earlier record. But when you set the bar as high as they did from the get-go then this is to be expected.

Some familiar elements remain firmly in place for this second installment but are refreshed with a more varied pallet of tempo, intensity and emotion. The wall-of-sound barrage that dominated the first album and drew comparisons to hey-day Wedding Present is still standing tall here but is often punctuated with rhythmic guitars like on Nothing Down In Hogtown. They also show a more melodic and sometimes easy-going side on songs like Any Other Time with its pedestrian tempo and understated instrumentation which provides more space around Pete Carmichael's strained vocals. But even when this does occur the melody is always supported in part by the frenzied guitars that come so rapidly that they end up merging into one all engrossing wash of sound. The talent of this band rests on their ability to control this sound and they rarely get it wrong. A misuse of this wall-of-sound technique would make every song blend into one but they are well aware of the power they hold in their hands and never abuse it. It can start off subtle like a gentle buzz then ever so gradually swell like a rising wave and before you know what's hit you it looms overhead, it's shadow swallowing up everything underneath including Carmichael's often distorted vocals.

The rising intensity of songs like Ever-Changing and No One Wants To Drive with its soaring guitars and tales of kids getting high are cut from the same cloth as earlier favorites like Golden Gates and the spectacular Push It To Monday and remind me what lit my fire about this band in the first place. These songs are created with urgency and grit but don't fall into the trap of taking themselves too seriously. This album all the reasons the first record was so great but also suffers as a result of this similarity. It doesn't reach the same lofty heights but stays on the lower ground and covers more of it. It shows The Diableros as a more well rounded band that thankfully are no one hit wonder. There's nothing more embarrassing than backing a band early on only to see them crash at the second hurdle. So thanks boys, I still have my job.

#Music
#BC

8th Feb 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

There Will Be Blood

Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

Paramount Vantage

Paul Thomas Anderson's latest film leaves behind his usual setting of a sprawling Los Angeles, starting off in the unfamiliar territory of 1890's oil county prospector Daniel Plainview silently, tirelessly digs for oil. An accident leaves Plainview with an adopted son and as 'partners' they build a small empire striking big in a remote Californian town, thanks to a tip-off from a local. The town prospers, but so does the church - and preacher Eli Sunday relentlessly pursues Plainview's apparent lack of faith.

The scenery is spectacular and Daniel Day Lewis is an undeniable tour de force, chewing his ways through the scenery and dominating most everyone in his path. Little Miss Sunshine's Paul Dano isn't bad as impassioned preacher Eli, youngster Dillon Freasier is impressive as Plainview Jnr and Ciaran Hinds puts in a good show in a seemingly cut-back role as right-hand man Fletcher Hamilton - and here lies the problem. For a film that's nearly three hours long it's surprising to feel like there's several reels missing.

After finding it's stride and building up a great confrontation between business and religion, the film seemed like it was shaping up as a thrilling analogy of the west's ever-present quest for oil at all costs - including religion. Three quarters of the way through however, things take an inexplicable turn for the worst. The story heads off-course, then jumps forward 20-odd years with no real justification - leaving us with the conclusion to a film we only feel we saw half of.

The score by Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood deserves special mention - evocative and haunting, perhaps misleadingly building a brooding sense of menace that the film did not live up to. While Greenwood's score never stopped, the plot was deralied long before the finish line. Key moments were confusingly handled - and not in a deliberately oblique way, just in a badly edited way. The best acting in the world can't save a shoddy story and script - and while individual scenes had great merit, as a complete work it was sadly crippled.

#Film
#CSF

6th Feb 2008 - 8 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Black Mountain

In The Future

Jagjaguwar

The first great record of 2008 has arrived. From the opening monster riff of Stormy High, prepare to be taken on a power ride that few bands can seem to muster these days. Second track, Angels, has the end of album flourishes that most bands would hold back for the final number, but here it only serves to get things started. This album will kick down the door and roar through your house like a hoard of vikings.

The cover artwork might suggest hocus-pocus and a fuzzy 70's psychedelia, but this is certainly not a nostalgic wander through riffs-gone-by. Where Wolfmother's tongues seem to remain firmly in cheek, Black Mountain have no air of pastiche and treat the music with the respect it deserves.

While 2005's Black Mountain showed hints of what this band were capable of, those hints were quickly matched by a wide variety of side projects - from the looser sound of Pink Mountaintops, through Matt Camarind's Blood Meridian and most recently with Amber Webber's Lightning Dust. Stephen McBean reconvened Black Mountain to record a follow up in 2006, but their various commitments led to an abortive start. Once the schedules cleared out however, the band knuckled down for a solid stint and laid down a burst of material in a matter of weeks. Surprising, as this is a record that seems so coherent and focussed you would assume a masterpiece level build-up was involved.

Their awesome live shows recently introduced the new tracks, showing this to be an album of raw power. A huge guitar sound, monster drums (most epic on the blistering finale of Tyrants) and only a keyboard to add a few extra flourishes to tracks like Wucan. Amber Webber's back up vocals add a further dimension, regularly jostling for prime position and taking centre stage on a couple of album highlights, such as the rumbling Queens Will Play.

The album scores so highly due to it's cohesiveness as a single piece of work, that you rarely feel like breaking up. In the days of the free mp3 that in itself is a rarity, but here it adds another dimension to all the songs, as you know you're never far away from a monster rock-out. There's tension here and the great range of highs and lows add light and dark, packing out this superb album. There's barely a bum note here, from the sweeping epic ups-and-downs of Tyrants to the acoustic subtlety of Stay Free. Even noodle-free 17 minute epic Bright Lights has it's five star moments.

The record has already taken a hammering over the last few weeks, but shows no sign of tiredness and I can see this one sitting in the favourites for the long haul.


Coming to an eardrum near you: January 21st 2008
There's a limited edition available while stocks last, with a second disc of 3 bonus non-album tracks. Do it.

#Music
#CSF

9th Jan 2008 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Best of 2007

Harris Pilton

Top 5 Gigs

1. Beastie Boys - Roundhouse, Chalk Farm
2. Melvins - Patronaat, Haarlem, NL
3. Fu Manchu (and Valient Thorr) - Underworld, Camden
4. Steely Dan - NIA, Birmingham
5. Prince - 02, Docklands

Top 5 Albums

Love's Miracle by Qui as my fave album of the year. I didn't hear it until it had been released a while so missed the boat on a review. But it's a corker...very original, complex, anguished, not an easy listen.

Beyond that, it's a hard one...not because there was so much choice, but because in real terms nothing released this year replaced older releases in my regular playlists. I must be the only music reviewer on the planet not to have heard (or attempted to hear) the Radiohead album. Not that I'm anti-Radiohead or anything, I just didn't go out of my way to hear it.

So, even the bands who released albums which I like didn't really release anything truly classic this year. I should give honourable mentions to Big Business for their album Here Comes The Waterworks (very original), and Fu Manchu for We Must Obey (not very original, but totally rocking), and Beastie Boys' The Mix-Up, which I did play more than any other new album this year.

Top 5 tracks (listened to this year, but not released this year)

1. Skull of a German - Jesus Lizard
2. Velouria - Pixies
3. The Warden - The Cows
4. Get on Down - Eddie Harris
5. Blood Witch - Melvins

Top 5 movies

Also not a good area for me. Only went to movies twice as far as I can remember. The Simpsons movie (which I thought was really poor) and Transformers, which impressed me with its humour and bludgeoning special effects. I expect I would have liked the new David Cronenberg film, and maybe even Lynch's Inland Empire, but I couldn't be arsed to go and see them. Will probably go see the new Wes Anderson next week (again, if I can be arsed). For me, the audio visual entertainment of the era is video games - hence...


Top 5 Games

1. Call of Duty 4
2. The Orange Box (half life 2 etc)
3. Guitar Hero II
4. Bioshock
5. Medal of Honour Airborne

#Music
#HarrisPilton

20th Dec 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Sunset Rubdown

Random Spirit Lover

Jagjaguwar

With their third album Sunset Rubdown present you with 2 options. (A) You could buy the album and listen to it a lot of times or (B) You could attach a balloon to a hose pipe, turn on the tap as far as it could go and put your face close to the ever expanding sack of tension. The result would be the same except for one difference. With option (B) you would get a more than refreshing blast in the face as the balloon bursts showering you with water. With option (A) the balloon would burst every 30 seconds and instead of a torrent of water pouring out, great birds of prey would launch forth from their captivity showering gold dust from their outstretched wings on any one lucky enough to witness this magical splendor.

Random Spirit Lover tests the elastic limits of both the album as a structure and your listening patience. It is crammed full of the most complex and intricate music heard since their last record and by building tension constantly it looks you square in the eyes and asks "how much are you willing to take?" Spencer Krug is the tour de force behind this project and it was his exquisite turn of phrase that dazzled in last years Shut Up I Am Dreaming. This time it's the grand musical arrangements that sweep you up in their daunting majesty and carry you away to lands never seen by the human eye. The songs give a fleeting glance to convention hinting at chorus and verse but bleed into one-another so completely that it would be impossible to separate this record into singles.

From the word go The Mending Of The Gown comes out of the blocks at an alarming pace. and the pounding piano and screeching guitar do their best to keep up with Krug's impatient vocals that tumble out like a rapid stream of consciousness. The songs are crammed with more instruments than are healthy and with multi layered vocals an all-encompassing wall of sound is created. This is where the listener can easily become overwhelmed but the album is cleverly paced with just enough pauses in this sound barrage to keep you onboard, like the opening drum/vocals on The Courtesan Has Sung. This slight glimpse of space makes the monstrous guitar that welcomes back the wall of sound seem even more thrilling.

Krug's work is always high drama and this album more than most has an unquestionable theatricality to it. His lyrics are steeped in antique narrative and invoke wild, fairy-tale imagery of magicians and courtesans or riding around on leopards throwing dead birds in the air. But with the addition of the music Random Spirit Lover is more akin to an opera both in its scale and ambition and in the fact that quite often you don't have clue what is going on and frequently think about leaving. And this time will come for us all believe me. The first prong of this attack is with the arrival of Colt Stands Up, Grows Horns. It is obviously the stories dream sequence where all rules are forgotten and the song descends into an unbearable spiral of synthesizers that never let up. And they continue through the next track like a nightmarish approach of madness. Thankfully the albums crowning glory rises triumphantly from this hell like a winged savior. The Taming Of The Hands That Came Back To Life is is the song to bring this record back to life. It;s a galloping, sword wielding knight riding into adversity. But sadly its bravery is soon overcome by Trumpet, Trumpet, Toot! Toot! Having been kept at bay for so long the fierce wall of sound returns bigger and fiercer than ever. It's wrath quashes our brave Knight into dust as the sound swells to terrifying levels and the entire structure of this record is threatened more than ever.

As you can see this music brings out the drama in us all and that is why it is such a special thing. It's like a girlfriend you just can't stay with but have to make yourself leave. It's a high maintenance ball buster that sometimes you just want to strangle but its ability to thrill at a moments notice and to transport you to far off places makes it virtually impossible to dismiss. It wont be the one you'll settle down with but it will claim a place in your heart forever.

#Music
#BC

6th Dec 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Black Mountain

Cargo, London

December 5th 2007

Gigs don't get much better than this. 2005 favourites Black Mountain have put the side-projects to one side and got back in the ring with a new album In The Future - due January 2008. Having been enlisted to play this weekend's ATP Festival, the band lined up a few warm-up dates around the UK - with the London gig happily a mere two minutes from our office. Just when this gig couldn't get any better, one of this year's favourites - Miracle Fortress - get lined up to support and for the first time in a long time, not missing the support act became a priority. You can read a quick review of their performance here.

Singer Amber Webber introduced the band through the haunting Night Walks, before Stormy High got things really moving. This classic heavy number may be new, but there was no reluctance to get into it from the crowd. Songs like Lighting Up The Sky and Evil Ways find the guitar and bass onslaught building a wave of noise that is impossible not to get swept up in.  Old favourite Satisfaction was requested from the crowd but given short shrift as the set-list was strictly warm-up, consisting of all but two of the new album tracks, plus Thirteen Walls from a tour 12" on sale at the show and only a couple of older numbers.

Where the debut album showed great potential, the new material really finds the band hitting their stride and the power behind these songs is immense. Blood Meridian front man Matt Camirand is a supporting player here, providing a solid bassline from the back, along with the powerhouse John Bonham-esque drumming and moody moog electronics. While Stephen McBean is clearly the leader of the band, they all have a strong input into the stage presence - all mic'ed up for backing vocals and all happy to chip in with the stage banter. McBean has a great voice however and the change in pace for the accoustic Stay Free provided a chance for him to reclaim centre stage.

Not unlike getting mugged in slow motion, the non-stop onslaught is a strangely rewarding experience. Without being cheesy or predictable, the songs hit the highs and lows in all the right places - just where you expect them. As songs like Tyrants wind down, you find yourself hoping for one last barrage of guitar thunder, but you still aren't prepared for the ferocity with which it is delivered.

The earlier call for Satisfaction was addressed as the band came back on for a riotous rendition of that debut album favourite plus another oldie No Hits. Hopefully they're now feeling suitably warmed, as I'm certainly ready for more.

#Music
#Gig
#CSF

6th Dec 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Miracle Fortress

Cargo, London

December 5th 2007

Following the release of their superb debut album, Miracle Fortress were over in Europe for a brief mini-tour, with this support slot for Black Mountain being one of two London shows. It's not often a support band becomes unmissable and Miracle Fortress did not disappoint.

A brief delay in sound checking was worth the wait, as the bombastic sound of Five Roses was energetically recaptured in their live show. Although the album is essentially the work of one man, the live band is a fully fledged unit with plenty of power. Whirrs, Maybe Lately, Little Trees, Fortune - all sounding like organic, melodic, hypnotic cacophonies. The only problem with much of this whirling wall of sound approach is that it's often not that entertaining to watch on stage, as without a strong stage formation and with the disadvantage lot of instrument changing there tends to be a lack of focus.

Once underway however, they seemed unstoppable - taking in a John Cale cover and a new track in addition to a good chunk of material from Five Roses. A great album, from another great Canadian band.

#Music
#Gig
#CSF

6th Dec 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Film School

Hideout

Beggars

San Francisco's Film School are a band built around frontman Greg Bertens. Formed in the late 1990's, Bertens has recruited members and slowly put out albums and EPs before signing to Beggars and becoming a more permanent band. This album sees a few line up changes - most notably the addition of female bassist/vocalist Lorelei Plotczyk who answered a Pixies-aping personal for "Someone into Husker Du and Peter, Paul and Mary".

Swirlies, Seefeel and Bardo Pond are the name checks on this album though, and while Film School's live show and previous album had me thinking of The Cure, Hideout owes more that a passing nod to the brilliance/pretentiousness of My Bloody Valentine. Hardly surprising due to the fact that MBV's Colm O'Ciosoig appears on the album.

Opener Dear Me and follow-up Lectric set the scene perfectly, with a wall of sound that builds and builds with pounding drums. Produced by frontman Bertens and Mixed by Phil Ek (Band of Horses, Stephen Malkmus, The Shins) the album is a huge leap forward from 2006's  self-title album, which confusingly was their second. Rich and textured, the records feels like a lot of time, love and attention has been put into it. The effects are set to stun and while on several occasions things look like they are going to drift away, the sonic theatrics are kept in manageable chunks and the album remains strong and focused without the directionless ramblings that MBV had a taste for. While the admittedly Cure sounding Two Kinds, with it's bass and 80's John Hughes keyboard sound starts promisingly, it's doesn't quite deliver but tracks like the juggernaut sound of Sick Hipster Nursed By Suicide Girl swirl up a pummeling sound that builds up to a crashing drum finale.

All music has a nod in one direction or another, and shoegazing is a direction that gets little attention in these skinny jeans obsessed days. In my book it would be more than welcome to mooch back into the limelight.

#Music
#CSF

5th Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Death Proof

(dir. Quentin Tarantino)

Tarantino's 5th movie has many similarities to his first, the classic Reservoir Dogs. It is truly one of a kind, you will grimace and wince all the way through, you will have never seen anything like it and as it finishes you will be left with the same jaw-dropping disbelief. But... there is one slight difference. Death Proof is one of a kind because you will be hard pushed to summon to the front of your mind a movie this bad, you will grimace out of boredom or acute irritation and the disbelief you are left with is how you could willingly let a jumped up prick like Tarantino into your home to rob you of two hours of your life. They are precious two hours, you could pick your toe nails right down till they bleed, you could spend it watching Blair Witch 2 or reruns of Joey, anything would be more productive than this.

From start to finish this film is a fake, and I know that Tarantino has based his career on rip offs but that used to be a strength, clever and intelligent emulation of subversive genres was what he did best but he's really over stayed his welcome with Death Proof, like a friend who you let stay on your couch for one, maybe two great nights out but now you find has been there for years, eaten all your food, slept with your wife and is still telling the same boring jokes. The writing was on the wall after Kill Bill, another tired piece of self indulgence, but at least that seemed tongue-in-cheek enough to get away with it. Death Proof is like watching an A-level film class where the student sites Tarantino as his all-time favorite film maker ever in the whole world ever. It's like watching a bunch of semi-hot-but-not-really chics talking like a Tarantino character because he is, like, the best director in the whole history of directors in the whole world ever. It's like someone released the out-takes of Death Proof by mistake, the hours and hours of snappy, clever-as-my-fucking-arse-hair dialogue that was never used as it had nothing to do with anything. This is why the world invented editors.

I'm trying to describe in detail the shortcomings of this film to justify my hatred because after all, it's not enough to say you hate a piece of art without providing back up for your views but like a police officer or counselor trying to get details out of a trauma victim my mind is blank. I have no details in my head, just emotion, all consuming irritation. If I was to be mugged on my way home tonight, slugged in the gut and all my worldly possessions stolen I would still hobble away more satisfied than I felt after Death Proof. If I was to be in a car accident and all my memory erased except for the Police Academy movies I would consider myself blessed that the mighty Lord above didn't leave me with any recollection of Death Proof.

If anyone disagrees with my views on this film then I'm sorry but you're a brain dead moron who thinks Tarantino is, like, the best film maker in the whole history of film making in the whole world ever. We have a comments facility on this site so if you want a fight then step up bitch.

#Film
#BC

25th Oct 2007 - 9 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Radiohead

In Rainbows

Radiohead's 7th album will forever be referred to as much for its content as the method by which it greeted our hungry ears. On 10th October we were literally 'given' the first morsels from this truly unique band since 2003's Hail To The Thief, but that wasn't the only great thing about that day. As a youngster I can remember the magical feeling that came with the arrival of a long awaited album. You would count down the days until it was released trapped in a glorious, internet-free vacuum of anticipation and speculation. Then when the day finally came the first thing on your mind was getting to that shop and claiming your copy, nothing else mattered in those days.

Fast forward to the present day and things have changed considerably. You rarely need to wait for anything now - leaks or promos arrive in your iTunes like it ain't no thang, and anyway even if you are waiting for something to be released by the time you get it your head is already littered with countless 'expert' opinions that it's hard to form your own. Well, last Wednesday we were all equal. Currently label-less, Radiohead took control of their property and gave it to everyone at the same time - no leaks, no promo copies and therefore no opinions. We were all free to make up our minds, not only on how valuable it was to us but what we thought of it. I felt a twinge of that magic return last week as I downloaded my copy and it's stayed with me throughout every play of In Rainbows.  I remember where I was on the release of pretty much every Radiohead album and Wednesday 10th of October was a special day indeed.

So, in the democratic spirit with which this record was released it seems fitting to apply such ideals to its scrutiny. So here are some Chimps early takes on the whole In Rainbows thing, and it ain't law it's just, like, their opinion man... - BC

People who have protested for years to me about Radiohead, have been approaching me recently saying; ‘Have you heard the new Radiohead album?  It’s Great!’

It is great indeed, a popularity that has not been the result of any concessions made by the band. ‘In Rainbows’ is beautiful, challenging and yes, repeat it, uplifting. It is the end of a sometimes lonely journey that has led them through the hinterland of ‘Kid A’, ‘Amnesiac’ and the not-to-be-ignored solo project by Thom Yorke last year; ‘The Eraser’. 

‘In Rainbows’ would not the subtle and lushly layered album it is without those earlier explorations, masterfully combining the art of melody (which the band claimed to forsake after ‘OK Computer) and laptop experimentation.  The ten songs are underpinned by Phil Selway’s tight framework of drumming and percussion, a structure which allows us to really appreciate the wonder of Yorke’s flying voice.

I heard that Muse were ‘the new Radiohead’.  That crown is still taken.  Indefinitely.  Enjoy the moment.

I paid 8 quid by the way.  A sum arrived at after several phonecalls, a lot of deleting,
re-entering and inner moral debate.

- LG - 5 Stars

Stand out tracks are Nude and All I Need. Yorke's vocals act as such a powerful instrument. Radiohead's best moments as a band come when they achieve the perfect balance between explosion and quiet - and this album isn't quite up on the explosive stuff. With these songs having being written and recorded over time, it feels the album lacks the cohesion of their finest releases.

The band should be commended for their release strategy, as the music industry certainly needs re-modelling. Having said that, it's any easy risk to take when you're seven albums deep on the back of millions in sales. Quite how it might work for new musicians I'm not so sure.

£3 and 3.5 stars - CJ

More than any other recording artist, one feels one should react to a new Radiohead album in the same manner one might to the unveiling of a controversial piece of contemporary art. One must try to connect with what one hears on a much deeper, esoteric level.
 
It is unquestionably, and unequivocally, a piece of Art. Beautifully challenging, not just to the individual listening, but on a far higher plane it is pointing the gun; the finger; the stick not only at the music industry, but society as a whole. In accessing the album the conch is passed to the world and is asked: What is music worth? What is art worth?
 
One parted with £4, as one is tight and would have bought it in the sales. (Though one wishes one had paid one pound as that would have made for a better punch line). - Locochimpo

The release of this album was an absolute bolt from the blue. Everyone knew album seven was past due, but no-one could have predicted a release this radical. As CJ mentions, it's a no-brainer when you're 70 millions albums deep in sales - and realistically it is not a suitable model for 99% of the bands out there. Why not just forget your worries about piracy and still release a CD? The labels don't have any problems knocking very recent releases by the likes of Kasabian or Kings of Leon down to £3 in HMV, so they're obviously covering their costs.

I've never had a problem either downloading music for free or paying for it if it's good. In fact I'm a conscientious thief, often stockpiling copies of albums I've downloaded, or shelling out £30 for a shoddy live box - as compensation for someone giving me a copy of a studio release.

The bottom line these days however is that CDs are fast becoming a thing of the past. I have shelves and shelves (or boxes under the bed these days) of CDs that have literally never been played on a CD player. They arrive, get ripped to digital and then filed away. Sleeve notes might get skimmed over on the way home. Radiohead have a always put great stock in their artwork, and I have a couple of the limited editions album's with Stanley Donwood's artwork. They're under the bed too.

I'd love to get the £40 discbox, but realistically it's not what I really want - as I'm not going to hang it on the wall like some sort of pseudo art collector. I want the music, and I'd most likely shell out the extra just to get the extra tracks. I plumped down £3 for the download and will pony up for the CD when it lands (hopefully) next year some time, just for the extra music. Promise.

And what of the music? I loved Hail To The Thief and saw it as a climax to their progressive work on Kid A and Amnesiac. I'm glad Thom Yorke's diverted his tinkering to his far-from-satisfactory solo record and put a bit of welly back into this, but it does feel some what incohesive in places, sagging a bit in the middle. Minor nit-picking though. It's a new Radiohead album and it's better than 90% of what's been around recently.  - CSF - 4.5 Stars

The start and finish of a Radiohead album have been a along fascination of mine. Having made some of the best music of this and the last century Radiohead have always had an annoying habit of chucking in the odd duff song towards the mid way point of an album then another at the end. OK Computer, Amnesiac and Hail To The Thief are definitely top heavy but I can't put the same claim on In Rainbows. This is one of the most consistent albums they've made.

Like Kid Amnesiac's wailing trumpets the new sound for this year is the blues guitar and its presence on 15 Steps is a great contrast to the stuttering electronics. Bodysnatchers was a stand-out powerhouse at last years live shows with the dirtiest riffs we've heard for years and Reckoner and House Of Cards have an excellent direction-less quality, maintaining the same beat and tempo throughout both songs in their own way suggest that they could go on for ever. Which leads me on to the main complaint, length. The album itself seems very short and many of the songs end way too abruptly.

But finally they get the ending right. Kid A could end so well if it wasn't for Motion Picture Soundtrack but a lot of the others start to tail off from about track 6. Jigsaw Falling Into Place is a future classic and one of the finest songs on this record but the spooked out lethargy of Videotape gives a powerful sense of finality to the album. All in all this one of the most complete pieces of work from Radiohead in years. You can hear every album they've made in this one including Pablo Honey and it still works. - BC - 4.5 Stars

The first listen of In Rainbows for me was an instant connection - it just sounded better than anything else I've heard for ages. There's an aura of confidence, of a band sitting back and enjoying playing together, the sound of people with something to say and the skills to say it.

Don't know if I've remembered this correctly, but I'm sure there was an episode of Later... once where Billy Corgan was on with Zwan (his post-Pumpkins project) and you could tell he really thought he'd changed the face of music etc again - and then you could see that vision crumbling while he watched Radiohead - who really had. (Almost as good as the time Dylan played Donovan one of his new songs.) The other thing I always remember about them was seeing them play Victoria Park in 2000, and just being amazed at how they'd managed to get so many people to listen to really out-there, avant-garde rock - and absolutely love it.

They just seem ahead of the game somehow - yes they've got record collections filled with Aphew Twin and Autechre - but it's translating that into rock and singalongable songs that makes them work so well. Love the ballads on this one - House Of Cards is as close as I think I've ever heard them get to a love song. Stormers like 15 Step and Bodysnatchers are huge. There's a real sense of them having taken the experiments of the past and learned how to incorporate them without trying so hard this time round, leaving it all feeling like complete, fully formed collection. You somehow want to inhabit this album - or maybe just hear it loud and live. Personally, I like the fact it's concise - it's one of the few albums this year where I've wanted to listen to it altogether, in order - and then go back to the beginning again.

To pull all this off, and then top it with the added "hey we know it's 2007" move of all the download/boxset options makes them feel connected to the world we've all found ourselves in. Totally agree with BC above - it does feel special to let everyone get it at the same time. As someone who grew up waiting months, sometimes a year for albums to be shipped out to the colonies from England, it's weird to click and instantly get stuff these days - does feel like this has somehow put some of the excitement and fun back into music. Would love to know how the experiment's done - real drag it's not chart eligible, but maybe that's all pointless and irrelevant now too... C71 - 4.5 Stars

#Music
#Chimpomatic

19th Oct 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Dylan Donkin

Food For Thoughtlessness EP

Wall of Sound

Dylan Donkin used to be in a band called Echobrain with ex-Metallica bassist Jason Newstead.  But don’t let that fool you into second-guessing what he sounds like.  In fact, listening to new EP Food For Thoughtlessness it’s possible that Mr Donkin himself isn’t exactly sure what his sound is.  But first a bit of post-Echobrain history:

After the band were caught up in a lawsuit with rival band called Echodrain (who’d have thought a band called Echodrain would have lawyers?), Donkin decided to do one and headed to Hawaii, where most admirably he developed a music teaching programme to help parents and children interact musically.  And it’s that sort of optimism, coupled with an inevitable laidback Island vibe, that runs through the 6 songs.

It’s a few stadium sizes away from metal monsters Metallica, but this isn‘t just one surf dude and his guitar a la Jack Johnson. Like Alec Guinness playing 8 members of the same family in Ealing classic Kind Hearts and Coronets or Eddie Murphy playing fat clan The Klumps in Hollywood film: Nutty Proffesor 2, the 6 songs that make up this EP may share the same mellow genetics, but are varied enough to showcase the considerable talents of Mr Donkin.

In mood, it’s a record of two halves (or 'sides').  Single Make a Choice is effortlessly upbeat in a hazy lazy kind of way. You can almost hear the Hawaiian tide breaking on the shore, as a slide guitar works its way over simple bass lines and gentle brushwork on the drums on Diatom Blues and what’s not to like about putting handclaps in a song called Depression Yesterdays.  For the second half Donkin, ever sensitive, gets a bit darker.  Fall Through The Wall and its slightly reverbed vocal recall Jim James or Neil Young.  Instumental The Commonaut is probably the most interesting, a talented yet troubled piano, drunk and misunderstood, wails at the world as a quiet lead quitar agrees and a small choir commentates.  And finally, Yolk bids farewell like a slightly more positive unplugged Kurt Cobain.

It will be interesting to see how Donkin pulls this altogether on a full-length album; will it sound like an album rather than simply a collection of (very good) songs?  Until we find out, the Food For Thoughtlessness EP is an intriguing and excellent appetizer, whetting the appetite for the main course to come.

#Music
#chimpovich

25th Sep 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Jeffrey Lewis

12 Crass Songs

It’s been a good week for record label PR and a bad one for Chimp research, following from Muxloe’s Young Marble Giants admission, I had penned the following review based upon the first few listens of Jeffrey Lewis’ 12 Crass Songs:

Jeffrey Lewis began life as a beatnik, or at least his parents were, a lifestyle choice that deemed comic books and blues records more suitable entertainment than that old Hippy’s foe: Television. Lewis took that early absence in his life personally it seems, as TV is one of several targets in the sights of his nasally-voiced shotgun on new album 12 Crass Songs. 

Before becoming a musician and a member of New York’s anti-folk movement (the power and anger of punk via acoustic guitar) Lewis drew (aha) on his upbringing to become an underground comic book artist. The sparse/direct style of comic books runs through 12 Crass Songs; it’s a wall-to-wall bunch of blunt, angry self-effacement - delivered like a crude black and white sketch through minimal music and Lewis’ talking/singing.

12 Crass Songs doesn’t let up. Nothing is spared as various tones of grey are added to the bleak portrait of the western world today. The human race is the first in the firing line on End Result “I’m part of the race that kills for possessions, part of the race that’s wiping itself out” On I Ain’t Thick, Lewis has his daggers drawn for that old villain 'The Man' who uses TV/Sarah Jessica Parker, consumerism and even history books, to keep the masses downtrodden, but Lewis ain’t having that y’all.

Systematic Death plays out like a comic book story, etching a sketch of Mr and Mrs Average America doomed to a life of misery, oppression and downright idiocy under the SYSTEM SYSTEM SYSTEM!

If he’s pissed at Sarah Jessica Parker, then imagine the ire Lewis reserves for Bush (I bet even Sarah Jessica Parker is pissed at him) and Mr. President’s policies, particularly his idea of defence, come under the penlike scalpel of Lewis. Even punk itself isn’t safe. Punk is Dead laments that the movement that once inspired Lewis and his contempories sold itself out “Punk is Dead. Punk is Dead. Just another cheap product for the consumer’s head”.

I would disagree however, what is punk other than getting a personal message out there by the most direct means possible (or is that DHL? (Corporate Fascists)). It’s easy to roll the eyes at another New York artist bitching about conspiracies and the like, but that’s exactly the fuel that feeds 12 Crass Songs. The world in 2007 is a mixed-up place of complacency and terror, artists that stick their head out, stare you in the eyes and point that out should be saluted. However, it surely wouldn’t detract from the message to add a splash of colour now and again, if only musically….

Then, like a tardy Colombo, I discovered that I had overlooked a vital piece of evidence; 12 Crass Songs is exactly that; 12 cover versions from late 70s/Early 80s English Anarchists Crass.  It’s depressing to think that 30 year old messages of protest and opposition still ring true and clear today, and strangely all of my thoughts were still valid - even though I refuse to believe that Sarah Jessica Parker was a key instrument in Thatcher’s oppression of Britain’s working classes.

#Music
#chimpovich

3rd Sep 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Devendra Banhart

Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Mountain

XL

More freak-folk from the leader of the freak-pack. SRDTM delivers on the idea of Devendra Banhart, moving effortlessly from 70s stoner jams, to warm folky riffs, nods to Tropicalia and cheeky numbers answering that old Zappa question: does humour belong in music?

Recorded in Topanga Canyon, the 70s enclave in the LA hills where Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Stephen Stills etc all decamped to play guitar in each other's back yards. That laidback spirit fills this album; a retro exercise perhaps, but the songs are strong enough to make it feel relevant in 2007. It's got that feeling of a band hanging out, living and breathing the songs, and seeing where they can take them.

The immediate winner is Seahorse, a three-part epic that rolls from an acoustic opening to take in touches of The Doors, Dave Brubeck, The Stranglers' Golden Brown, Wild Wood-era Paul Weller etc, all with his Marc Bolan-ish vibrato over the top; feels like a lost classic that's going to storm live. Kind of fitting that it's about reincarnation with so many references tucked in.

Tonada Yanomaminista is a triumphant, summery singalong, almost breathless at 2:53; Bad Girl is as mellow as Fleetwood Mac's Albatross; Seaside a moving piano ode to er, the seaside; Latin flavours come out on Samba Vexillographica, Carmencita and Rosa; Shabop Shalom and So Long Old Bean fun songs that break up the fragile romance of My Dearest Friend and I Remember.

One of 2007's strongest albums so far.

Like his alternative list of album titles:

Milk the Wind
Shes a Hot Dog
Mountaneous Confunktion
Greatest Hits
Hubba Hubba Planet
Electric Pizza Cops
Foreskin Sword (what it is & how to use it)
Mama, Mujhe Mall se Jeans Lenee Hai
Porkin' the Broken Knee (Electroxtensial Chop!)
Who is Kadamon?
The Burnt Frizbee
Abhor the Coagulator (1964 version)
Koala Mans Return to Pineapple Temple
ihop ihop
Bacchanalian Beat Box
Thrice the Phat Magus
Gaga Blood & the Balls of .......
Rich Gals Shampoo n' Conditioner Blues
Talkin Weleda Haushka Bronners Blues
Military Massengill
Cyber Christ and the Gnostic Titi-Slap Part Deux
You Who are Familiar with Grandma's Hyacinth

#Music
#chimp71

26th Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Menomena

Friend And Foe

City Slang

Friend And Foe is the debut UK release for avant-garde US trio Menomena and it could just be the most interesting indie rock record since TV On The Radio's Return To Cookie Mountain. This is actually their third album and it presents itself as an amalgamation of various musical experiments. It is clear that there is no real leader in this band and that as a whole the group is packed full of ideas each wanting a shot at the title. Vocal duties are shared from one song to the next and musically it's all over the place. But what makes this record so rare is that instead of being the groups undoing, all this fragmentation serves to enrich the sound and actually becomes the uniting force running through everything.

Multiple vocalists is normally a recipe for disaster in my opinion. The listener will undoubtedly warm towards one sound and then reject the rest. Not the case here and the result is a musical spectrum that spans the afore mentioned TV On The Radio as in the opening track Muscle'n Flo, The Flaming Lips (Wet And Rusting) and even a touch of Folk Implosion (Air Aid). But though these comparisons may present themselves they are by no means the lasting talking point about this record. It is thrilling to hear an album that offers you so much choice from the minimal and rhythmical Weird to the astral bliss of My My not to mention the chaos of The Pelican, a whiskey soaked bar room brawl of a song that pounds its heart out until finally collapsing into a heap of crashing cymbals and screeching guitars.

Musically there is so much to sink your teeth into here but once you've found out a thing or two about this band you'll see that they stand alone in their complete vision of creating a record. The wall-of-sound music is painstakingly crafted using a complicated series of improvised loops that are recorded and arranged using a computer program developed by one of the band members Brent Knopf called Deeler. Though this computer manipulation is hardly recognizable in the finished product the bands meticulous attention to detail is glaringly obvious, shown also in the cover art designed by Craig Thompson, acclaimed creator of the graphic novel Blankets. This features a tangled mesh of drawings that change and evolve throughout the multiple permutations available depending on whether the CD is in the case or in the player.

Though fascinating, all this only serves as a bonus to the music itself. This is a band dedicated to their craft and it shows in every second of the record. Friend And Foe is the crowning achievement in the bands history and will take some skill to top but I am in no hurry to see what they do next as I feel I've only scratched the surface of this wonderful creation.

#Music
#BC

24th Aug 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Is Is

Wichita

And so the YYY juggernaught rolls on, unstoppable in it's strength and relentlessness. Hot on the heals of the spectacular second album, Is Is shows them expanding to a more fuller sound. Their sound is, on the whole a more polished gem compared to the earlier eps and debut album but in place of grit we get profound depth that manifests into dazzling might. From the rumbling and stabbing ferocity of opener Rockers To Swallow it sure is good to have this New York outfit back in our ears even if it's only for a brief 17 minutes. Karen O's vocals are as blood curdling as ever as she coughs up throaty howls from the depths of her being. Down Boy is a more contemplative affair with deep, rumbling tension while Is Is displays soaring melody over dark plodding drums.

10 x 10 pounds in with echoing, resounding guitars that sound like metal piping being bashed together. It's a perfect example of the multi layered structure that give this band their shambolic, raw edge. They are an immaculately tight band but somehow give the impression of chaos. They can clash and pound around so hard that you can almost feel the reverb down your body but then they'll sweep it all up and come at you head on in a focused shot of teeth-baring rock. This maybe an interlude ep but in it's 5 songs the YYY's display more ideas that most band do in a whole career.

#Music
#BC

27th Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Latitude Festival

Henham Park, Southwold, Suffolk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘It’s called, the Eye of the Tiger’.

‘What?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#Gig
#LG

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

Pissed Jeans

Hope For Men

Sub Pop

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#CSF

11th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Veils

Nux Vomica

The only common thread running through The Veils from their 2004 debut The Runaway Found to this exceptional follow-up is frontman Finn Andrews himself. Having seen off various label difficulties to make their debut, Andrews emerged from the aftermath as the only member of the band and went back to New Zealand to regroup. Nux Vomica is the fruits of his labour and it's an impressive progression from the folk-tinged debut.

It's quite evident that the success of some bands can be attributed to the group effort and that sometimes it's just the work of one leading vision. Listening to Nux Vomica it's not hard to feel that Andrews' very presence in the band is not the only factor that makes him The Veils. His voice has evolved into an all commanding and utterly compelling power that drives this record and if he hadn't formed Grinderman would have Nick Cave wishing he'd made it.

From the opening Not Yet we get the simmering tension and howling ferociousness of Andrews' gothic story-telling and the ease with which this band can climb to majestic heights. And it's from this lofty position that Andrews is able to cast his eye over this world and pose his questions of faith and purpose that run through each song. The manner in which these questions are asked is thrillingly varied. The kitchen sink domesticity of Advice For Young Mothers To Be sees Andrews assume the position of the young mother-to-be and her sad story is told to the false jaunt of a Divine Comedyesque sing along comparing her current state to "this crown of thorns." This theme is expressed once more with startling contrast on Jesus For The Jugular. The churches dependance on both sides of the good and evil spectrum is highlighted with blood-curdling honesty over a gritty blues riff. It's the fiercest song on the record going for the jugular in both style and content and it's not until the beautifully serene Under The Folding Branches that you realise how much of a rest you needed. The comfort of these folded branches has Andrews daring to hope for the future claiming "Now is not too late, heaven can wait another year or so."

I could remain in these serene surroundings for ever if it weren't for the overwhelming pull of the title track that follows. This is where Andrews really lays his cards on the table daring to confront God himself, firing question after question "What say you Lord, why is the truth of us so hard to unveil?" With slowly tightening fists and rising anger the song threatens to explode all the way through and though it by no means ends this album it seems a fitting point to end this review. From here on in you coast to the finish line with more questions than when you started but thank Christ there's people like Finn Andrews who can ask them so perfectly.

#Music
#BC

1st Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The National

Boxer

Beggars

The National are a rare and special commodity indeed, they seem to exist in an alternate reality all of their own. They have an almost Teflon power to repel any concrete judgments that aim to stick to their ethereal outer surface. Though they never claim to make music that breaks boundaries, creatively they exist in a bubble. Their sound recalls artists like Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen but even as I write this my head's telling me "well not really." Artistically they follow their own path religiously. You would never catch Matt Berninger penning an openly anti-war lyric,  instead he expertly crafts word groupings that defy imagination and meaning yet inspire a certain magical imagery that is totally unique to them. The write up on their myspace page puts it perfectly. "The band sings about the kind of dreams that ruin lives, and they make of those dreams the kind of music that saves them."

With Alligator, their 2005 debt for Beggars Banquet, The National pricked up the ears of music critics, bloggers and any one with a heart and at their London gig at Koko they looked openly stunned as the rapturous crowd sang along ecstatically to ever line. It's easy to create honest and unadulterated art in virtual obscurity but how do you do it when your last album genuinely changed lives? Well, Boxer is how.

This follow up contains not a single trace of self awareness. It is as honest and unique as its predecessor and for that reason is like discovering the band all over again. It uses Alligator as a starting point and goes deeper, plumbing newer and far more richer depths of sound and mood. Musically they show a remarkable maturity using great washes of strings to block in their dream-like landscape then send out a resounding boom across this land with pounding piano and the best drumming this band has ever produced.

From the outset it's pretty clear we're in for a treat. Fake Empire is just the kind of opener you want to hear from a band with this much expectation. A rumbling piano counts in Berninger's voice which is gloriously baritone and heralds the first glimpse of the awesome drumming we see so often on Boxer. Mistaken For Strangers has more bite to it, with chugging guitars accompanying the pounding drums. Songs like Green Gloves and Slow Slow just ooze from the speakers with thick, all consuming quality. Slow Slow's gently strummed structure ticks along with a majestic string accompaniment and  ends up soaring on a beautifully toe-tapping rhythm. Matt Berninger writes with almost stream-of-consciousness fluidity and his strange tales of diamond slippers, gay ballets on ice and rosie minded fuzz seem to drip from his tongue with such ease that it's quite hypnotic. Unlike previous albums Berninger never raises his voice on Boxer and the blood curdling scream of songs like Sad Songs' Available and Alligator's Abel has all but vanished. Instead we get a voice almost unfathomable in depth which seems to be used as much as an instrument as a conveyor of narrative.

If I had to include one slight complaint it would be the choice of ending on the record. Gospel brings things to a close on a relatively week note especially as the song preceding it is so wonderful. In my opinion Ada would end this album with more of a lasting power with its haunting melancholia and gently simmering unease. But it seems foolish to dwell on this as you'll rarely be listening to this album once and pretty soon you'll have had it on repeat so often that you wont know how it ends.

This album has a strange power. Its depth is slow releasing and after the third play you'll wonder if someone has switched cd's on you. The myriad of layers encoded in its rich tapestry will reveal themselves to you with ever emerging magnificence until its overall splendor will have you open mouthed in awe and wonder. If it hasn't got you after the fifth listen then there's something wrong with your brain or your audio equipment. You can't do much about your brain but if it's the latter then I recommend hiring a Bentley for a weekend and giving it a go on that stereo. Believe me, it'll be worth every penny.

#Music
#BC

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

The Dirt

Mötley Crüe

"Yo, bartender, hook me up with another shot of bourbon...hey duuuude, I'm fuckin' dry over here... Jeez, what's a guy gotta do to get a swig of the juice?" I drag deeply on my Marlboro red, I have just been reading all about the old times, the old gang - The Crüe - fuck yeah.

In the early days things were pretty wild, Vince, Nikki, Tommy and Mick ripping up sunset boulevard and causing chaos. Just four young guys with fire in their leather pants and a passion to make it. There was no kissing ass with these dudes, the stairway to rock heaven was achieved through pure party energy, and hey - these dudes had party in their blood.

Crazy fuckin' nights in the Whiskey and even crazier mornings at the Crüe pad: girls, booze and as many pharmacuticals as we could handle - man those times were rockin'. Chicks and good times were rollin' - but dude, The Crüe never lost sight of the ultimate prize - rock stardom. And these guys made a deal with the devil to make damn sure that they became the kings of rock.

It was the come down that was rough though. From the fuckin' top of the world, there was only one way to go. Down.

"Yo, dude throw us a light..."

Everything these guys loved turned to dust. Hot chicks became bitchin' wives, and then costly divorces. Fast cars destroyed some of our best buddies, and the alcohol...man when you finally sober up there's one hell of a hangover.

But when this Crüe turned in on itself ...dude thats when the pain really hits hard, when the shit really hits the fan. The guys re-live every fuckin' moment, pouring it all out, every last drop of Mötley mayhem.

#BW

25th Apr 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

El-P

Dingwalls, Camden, London

Camden's hive of scum and villainy were out in force last night and were foaming at the mouth for a piece of the Def Jux head honcho. Backed by a band dressed in combat gear and balaclavas El-P arrived on stage in Guantanamo Bay's Spring/Summer collection, a short sleeve orange boiler suit complete with head wounds and a bloody nose. This choice of attire together with El-P's admission "Sorry but we don't have any happy songs," set the tone early and I started to take one step back from my much coveted front and centre position.

As the bass-heavy intro to new album opener Tasmanian Pain Coaster started, the rabid dogs around me moved into position and Dingwalls erupted. It's a fantastic start to the album and it had equal impact here, with the chorus "This is the sound of what you don't want killing you," being spat back by the brawling pit as venomously as it was being dished out by what looked like the cast of Con Air. This was then followed by Fantastic Damage's Deep Space 9mm to the delight of the old school contingency. When El delivered the line "I signed to Rawkus" the crowd were only too happy to scream back the reply "I'd rather be mouth-fucked by Nazis unconscious," which was nice. And so it continued with much of the new album getting an airing. Heavy hitters like Flyentology, Drive and Smithereens kicked out furiously and it seems El's fans are receiving this new stuff as passionately as they did Fantastic Damage.  And so they should as when put next to the older work these songs dispalyed a might all of their own.

An unexpected bonus was the addition of the mighty Mr. Dibbs on beat duty. His beats were as tight as always and he played them with an all-consuming passion and concentration that sometimes rivaled the big man for visual attention. During a short interval - while El-P went off to mop up the blood from his dripping ears - we were treated to the skills of Dibbs, an expert mash up of hip hop favorites - together with Radiohead's National Anthem more than kept the crowd occupied.

Despite the slightly cliched dress code (Sage Francis was rocking the orange boiler suit and bandages years ago) this was an awesome display of El-P's shock and awe brutality and was delivered with all the passion you'd expect from this man. Gripping the mic like he was throttling a chicken he screamed down its neck like a man possessed. His back-up MC shadowed him all the time and whipped the crowd into a violent, heaving frenzy that continued until the last giving the front man cause to show real appreciation at this reception and as we all limped home with real blood stains on our clothes we clung to our ringing ears like trophies of a job well done.

#Music
#Gig
#HHG

19th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Frightened Rabbit

Sing The Greys

Hits The Fan

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

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

#Music
#BC

30th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Blonde Redhead

23

4AD

There are some feelings in life that you simply can't beat. I'm not talking here about the grand feelings of joy or euphoria that come with such landmark events like having your first child, no I mean the kind of everyday, low key moments that produce an indiscribable feeling of utter satisfaction. Like the first sip of an ice cold beer after work on a hot summers evening, or sliding your foot into brand new socks, or finding a forgotten favorite album for £2 in a second hand record store, or putting on an album by Blonde Redhead who seem to be able to produce moments such as these with blissful ease.

Ever since 2004's Misery Is A Butterfly my heart has been in love with this band. There is something about Kazu Makino's sweet soprano vocals that make me sigh with delight. They ache with sadness yet float with effortless grace over the claustrophobic wall of sound that underlie them. She has the ability to gently take your heart by the hand and carry it away on the most perfect of melodies. Misery Is A Butterfly was the first album where this quality was brought to the forefront, moving away from the bitter squall of their Sonic Youth inspired sound of previous albums and now with 23 the change is well and truly complete.

The title track chimes in with an eery emptiness that is then discarded as you are pulled close and smothered by sound. The first glimpses of Makino's voice sees the spell cast once again and the love affair re-ignited. The voice is more energetic here and though it will always contain the traces of melancholy that make it so addictive it's more soaring and wonderful than ever on these first two opening tracks. With The Dress things open up a little and as the music is stripped down we get more space to look around and really appreciate the delicate nuances of this band. As usual vocal duties are shared between Makino and Amedeo Pace who's contributions bring valuable muscle to the proceedings with songs like SW and Spring And Summer Fall.

It's hard to talk in depth about these songs for fear of breaking the spell. Blonde Redhead's music is hypnotic, rapturous and holds within it a kind of mystical wonder that is almost impossible to pin down. They make beautiful pop songs but there seems to be something more, something special that once it has touched you you feel privileged. So with this new album my heart is once again buoyant.

#Music
#BC

17th Mar 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Kings Of Leon

Because Of The Times

RCA

Although many bands have a far more pedestrian schedule, Because Of The Times seems like a long time coming - with the Kings of Leon taking a casual 3 years to follow up their last record. Debut Youth and Young Manhood was 2003, Aha Shake Heartbreak came in 2004 - with only the measly Day Old Belgian Blues EP offered to fill the gap. Forget that non-starter though, as they are back with a top quality album - and they are suffering from a heavy does of 'Awesome Third Album Syndrome'.

With Knocked Up, things start with a track pretty much guaranteed to tick a few boxes with me. 7 minute opening tracks have a habit of appearing on some of my all-time favourites - At Least That's What She Said being the most obvious example. It shows that a band have a certain confidence in their sound and are happy to turn the rules on their head, and in this instance it's a confidence that is well placed. The moody bass line sets the scene for the slow build up to the inevitable unleashing of guitars that does not disappoint.

The sound on this album is stripped down and bare - working in all the right places with the minimum of fluff and fan-fare. Caleb Followill lets his wild instinct take over as his unrestrained screeches confidently lead the band into edgy territory on Charmer, while the wall of guitars on McFearless are surely destined for a back-lit, smoke machine filled arena - complete with strobe lightling. Although the sound seems less 70's American than before (I never could quite pin down exactly who) it does have a more distinct sound of it's own here, as well as pulling in a wider range of influences - with even a touch of Police reggae on Ragoo. The heavy bass-line of My Party, or the Edge style guitars of True Love Way and Arizona are accompanied throughout by superb drum lines that could have been lifted from Sunday Bloody Sunday.

There are also quite a few brat-pack-80s-prom overtones that work well, adding a well placed bit of nostalgia to tracks like True Love Way and giving the band a bit more of a grounding in the same popular culture as the rest of us - rather than the mythical 70's vibe that they seemed to have on their previous records.

While their own style vs substance ratio was never in question, marketing-wise the Kings of Leon have often been lumped in with the likes of The Killers and Kaiser Chiefs in that play-all-the-festivals-but-somehow-not-taken-all-that-seriously-category, as their relative lack of success in their homeland shows (noted on Fans). Hopefully this album will move them in the public eyes away from the hype and into the serious camp - with the likes of Wilco, My Morning Jacket and Radiohead.

This is the first album in ages that actually feels like a complete work to me - perhaps even more so than their own previous efforts. A good album should play out like a good career - cracking debut (Knocked Up), a solid couple of tracks with some experimental touches (Charmer, On Call), then a track that takes what has been learned and puts it to awesome effect (McFearless). The album is full of hearty meat and potatoes with the centre forming a solid core to the album, capturing the mood and tone of the record as a whole.

It's already an easy contender for album of the year (about the 4th contender so far I think and it's only March), and should prove to age even better that Youth and Young Manhood and Aha Shake Heartbreak. They may not be as old and grizzly as they sound, but the Kings are certainly maturing with age.

#Music
#CSF

8th Mar 2007 - 32 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

Soho Venue Bar, London

With their second album Some Loud Thunder about to hit the shelves, Brooklyn's Clap Your Hands Say Yeah are in the UK for a promotional tour - starting with this low-key gig at TVFKARRB (The Venue Formerly Known As Raymond's Revue Bar). Currently called "Soho Revue Bar", the venue is in the legendary former strip club (poles still intact) at the bottom of Berwick St. It's a nice little place, with Goodfellas style table lamps and velvet booths - and the perfect place for a little warm-up gig like this.

The band showed up on stage a little late and seemed slightly nervous about things as they kicked of the show. Alec Ounsworth led his band through the proceedings, sticking mainly with the new album for a while - with "Love Song No 7" and "Underwater (You and Me)" sounding particularly good.

There were certainly some sound problems in the venue, with a partial power cut through one song. The band were certainly in no hurry however, meaning the momentum of the show was often lost a little between tracks - but when things picked up and the chatty crowd quietened down the band showed some of their magic. While some of the new songs seemed a little under developed and malnourished in a live setting there were plenty of highlights. "Satan Said Dance" has been in live rotation for a while now and it showed - fast, tight and furious guitars rolling along to a pounding beat. "Yankee Go Home" was beefed up from it's album version - with a Brian May-esque guitar solo added for good measure. Out of the context of the (possibly over-produced) album, the songs true strengths have more of a chance to shine through - and while there is still plenty of room for development, a handful of the new tracks were already standing up well next to old favourites like "In This Home On Ice" (described as a 'song about ice') and "Details of the War" - which was stretched out here like a long-lost Neil Young classic.

45 minutes later and the show is wrapped up, with the epic first album closer "Upon This Tidal Wave Of Young Blood" proving to be the final track. A Wedding Present style guitar frenzy classic that showed plenty of what this band is capable... and will hopefully be delivering for many more years to come.

#Music
#Gig
#CSF

1st Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

TV On The Radio

Koko, Camden

I find it near impossible to sum up the sound of TV On The Radio and when I try to think of an equivalent in order to aid my description I find myself stumped. But one thing I did discover in the majestical surroundings of Camden's Koko was that with two and a half albums strong this Brooklyn 5-piece know exactly who they are and what they are doing.

With it's numerous balconies dripping in ornate decoration and rising skyward to a huge revolving glitterball, Koko is a venue like no other and the view from the stage must either thrill or daunt any band. The addictive thing about TV On The Radio is their grasp of restraint. Their sound is so complex and threatens to explode but rarely does so I was interested to discover how this style would cope with a venue such as this. Dirty Whirl, a highlight from the new album Return To Cookie Mountain crept in humbly with hushed atmospheric sampling and front man Tunde Adebimpe's sweet whistling. This built up slowly and then the band unleashed their sound. It was the sound of twenty men and it was awesome. Adebimpe is the lynch pin to the dazzling show TV On The Radio offer. His theatrical dancing, thorough exploration of the space around him and inexhaustible passion and energy is electrifying and like nothing I have seen before. And his voice, well damn that boy can sing. Often constructing beautiful harmonies with guitarist and vocalist Kyp Malone, Adebimpe's voice more than filled the hall.

The stage seemed cluttered with the various machines that make this sound so unique. The standard drums, guitars and vocals are all fed through samplers, loops and distortions to produce a wall of sound that is oozing with texture. As expected Wolf Like Me was an instant highlight. As the only drum heavy, rock-out tune on the album this is as close as this band come to a standard song, so for it to emerge crisp and triumphant from the murky bog of noise was a delight to which the hungry crowd responded accordingly. Earlier songs like Young Liars were treated to the same extended format with the music slowly fading away to leave Adebimpe's exposed vocals to bring it to a close.

Not all the songs worked with the live treatment and this is due to the intricate subtleties that are so important to their sound not to mention the obvious sound problems experienced by Kyp Malone. I Was A Lover opens the new album with such hollow beauty, but that was lost here. The dense texture that is crafted around this song simply swallowed up the vocals reducing them to just another element in this texture. But this was a minor complaint and was soon forgotten as a free standing bass drum was brought on to the stage to herald the start of Let The Devil In. This was pounded on by at least two other band members as the crowd were encouraged to sing along. Adebimpe opened the song with dulcet vocals only to produce a mega-phone which he proceeded to shriek into as more and more previously unnoticed musicians joined the stage beating a myriad of cymbals, drums, tamborines, you name it. The result was a near tribal stampede of sound that refused to stop. It built and built to epic proportions and launched this gig into memorable territory.

After the dazzling My Morning Jacket show in September I got to thinking, "What separates the good gigs from the great gigs?" I have seen many a great band showcase their back catalogue with expert precision but have often been left feeling slightly flat. These gigs were as good as their albums, but the great gigs go further and make you feel like you are witnessing something specific to this moment, something spontaneously crafted and bigger than the music. This is what was happening at Koko that night, a live event that would be lost in any other format. All too often I leave a very enjoyable gig but mentally tick that band as 'done', the opposite was the case here and as I emerged from my grand surroundings into a rainy night I hoped this would not be the last would see of TV On The Radio.

#Music
#Gig
#BC

13th Nov 2006 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Borat!: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

(dir. Larry Charles)

20th Century Fox

Anyone familiar with Borat would no doubt agree that he is the funniest and most outregeous of Sacha Baron Cohen's 3 characters, and during his sections in the Ali G In Da USA show we were appalled and dazzled by his shameless interviews - and much like Ali G his ability to extract the truth from narrow minded middle America. This film is all that, plus a whole lot more. You get the normal encounters with people of such jaw dropping ignorance, culminating in a stadium full of Rodeo fans who cheer passionately when Borat greets them on the mic with words to the effect of "May your president drain the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq." You get livid feminists, furious commuters, angry aristocrats, man-eating Jews and Pamela Anderson.

Although his TV show was so successful, things like that often fail to translate well onto the big screen - and when stretched to 90 minutes they can become tiresome. But this got it right. The plot was good enough to sustain your attention and formed a believable platform for his comedy. It was a non-stop romp across the U.S and A and the comedy was pushed to it's absolute limit. There were moments of such shock and awe that provided images that will be burned on to my memory for ever. He got himself into situations from which most people would be hard pushed to walk away with their lives, but his masterfully acted naive charm got him through every time. The comedy was relentless and there were countless moments where the audience laughed until they had nothing left. Not all the jokes were necessary though and his constant attack on the Jewish community became too uncomfortable to snigger at towards the end - but it was the visual gags that worked so well, like the shocked faces of New Yorkers as Borat calmly masturbated on the street to a window full of lingerie-clad mannequins, or washed his underpants in Central Park, or opened a suitcase full of chickens on the subway.

It's all pretty stupid stuff and I did feel slightly embarrassed asking for two tickets to Borat when there were such heavyweights to be seen like The Departed or Romanzo Criminale, but who cares - I haven't laughed that much in years and continue to smirk to myself when images of naked male wrestling enter my mind. Pure genius. High Five.

#Film
#BC

7th Nov 2006 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Drones

Gala Mill

ATP

Of the new bands I've listened to recently, it's quite clear that The Drones would beat them all in a fight. A coiled aggression runs through Gala Mill and frontman Gareth Liddiard sings like a man with experience of a hundred brawls and of pain in all its varieties.

Two things about The Drones previous (and 2nd) album, that will give you a good idea about what you are going to get from Gala Mill:

1. It was called 'Wait by the River and the Bodies of Your Enemies Will Float By'. A title suggesting themes of conflict, nature and vengeance, a title that says "We aren't messing about here."

2. It won the Australian Music prize for best album, beating off the likes of Wolfmother.

Gala Mill, whilst more economically named, is an album full of conflict, nature and vengeance and perhaps more importantly, has Australia running through its adrenalin-charged veins.

It's straight down to business on 'Jezebel', an 8 minute epic that staggers and sways like a hardened fighter whose legs refuse to buckle. Liddiard's unashamedly abrasive accent snarls about subjects such as nuclear testing in Australia, the Beslan school massacre, a cow that glows in the dark and the murder of US journalist Daniel Pearl. Track 1: like a punch in the gut!

There you are - winded. So they follow up with 'Dog Eared', a sinister ballad and 'I'm Here Now' another 8 minuter about heroin addiction that starts slow but ends up pinning you against the wall, threateningly requesting your full attention. 'The Words of the Executioner to Alexander Pearce' is self-explanatory - as long as you know that Alexander Pearce was a cannibal, rapist from The Drones' home state of Tasmania. Phew! 'I Don't Ever Want to Change' changes pace and provides some welcome rocking out, and even though it is about depression and denial, it is a strangely comforting song in the midst of all the down-tempo sluggers. The final track 'Sixteen Straws' is Gala Mill's most ambitious. Close to ten minutes, it's like a traditional folk ballad, as Lilliard spins 30+ verses into a 1st person tale of forlorn convicts avoiding the Catholic prohibition of suicide, by drawing straws to decide who will kill another and thus send them all to the gallows,

It's a hard and dark album, but a rewarding one. That is, if you can stay the distance.

#Music
#chimpovich

3rd Nov 2006 - 5 comments - Add Comment - Tweet