Chimpomatic

Justice

Live at Somerset House, 11 July 2008

Ed Banger

Ah the English summer. Standing around in the great outdoors, drink in hand, waiting for a band to come on stage, willing the rain to stop... Audiences here are nothing if not committed to having a good time, which almost makes it okay when you find yourself standing around in the rain for hours in the name of entertainment. 

Last time I tried to catch a gig at Somerset House Al Qaida managed to disrupt my plans to see Queens Of The Stoneage, so I was pretty glad when support act Late Of The Pier turned up. Sounded a bit like someone updating Devo, all angular beats and noisy keyboard lines, but quite a bouncy set, and they made the most of all the umbrellas in the audience.

Tonight though belonged to the mighty Justice, one of the few acts in recent times who've managed to push beyond the whole "two men, two laptops" problem of presenting live dance music. They're still standing there, twiddling away, but somehow the presence of a giant neon cross bookended by two giant stacks of Marshall amps on either side of the stage elevates their set. It also helps that the music sounds so great live: they beef up an already very beefy (boeufy?) album with killer live versions, milking all the breakdowns and drum crescendos whenever possible - it's not subtle, but it's totally effective. 

Even with the July rain coming down through the set, umbrellas joining all the phones (and hands) in the air, there was still a total party vibe bouncing off the elegant 18th century walls. D.A.N.C.E., DVNO, Waters Of Nazareth etc all sounded great, with the trademark Justice bit-crunched production powered by body-shaking bass. Biggest moment of the night was reserved for the unstoppable We Are Your Friends, a great version that started off a cappella and seemed to go on for about half an hour before they finally let the rest of the tune drop, while a helicopter hovered overhead ("Sarge, we're just going to see what that, erm, disturbance is over by the Strand tonight... no, nothing to report, but we're going to, erm, just stick around for a bit just in case... Roger, over.")

Catch them if you can.

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12th Jul 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Ratatat

LP3

XL Recordings

LP3 is the follow up to 2006's Classics and unlike its predecessor it was recorded in a very short space of time. Mike Stroud and Evan Mast recorded LP3 at Old Soul Studios, a large old house in a the small town of Catskill in upstate New York, and this change of venue has had a significant effect on the Ratatat sound, sort of. Though the core qualities remain intact there is a much fuller emphasis on keyboards and live instrumentation rather than programmed beats. All this is layered over their trademark swathes of synths and complex beat arrangements to form a rich tapestry indeed. The problem is, all this occurs in the first half of the album and is soon forgotten by the time we get to the end.

Mi Viejo uses delightful percussion over delicate guitar conjuring images of mysterious far off lands and as it plays out with a bongo drum solo it fades into Mirando, another complex amalgamation of swirling organs and rich percussion. Whereas Classics relied on guitar as its main sound, LP3 embraces a much wider array of musical instruments and sources from the hand-clap-like beat of Imperials to the skipping piano of Brulee. These touches raise the first half from the rest and see them standing proud as beacons of a way forward.

The beats do occasionally slip into synthesized obscurity that often flattens the record out and forces many of the songs into the background. Instrumental bands such as this have to work hard to raise each song from the sea of beats that sits stagnant below and without doing this many of these songs can slip by unnoticed. Songs like Dura and Shempi are well crafted but fail to move the sound on from the other albums and while retaining a core sound across records is admirable if little is brought to the table in terms of new thought, an unmemorable 40 minutes can slip by quite easily. I am not saying that is the case here but the key points where the listener is alerted all seem to happen in the first half with the rest of the record trailing off into mediocrity. The same guitar/organ swirl permeates nearly every song and threatens to bury all the delicate complexities that delight during the early stages. By the time we get to the album closer Black Heroes the band themselves seem bored and ready to finish which is in direct contrast to how they started, both on this record and their career in general.

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11th Jul 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

White Denim

Workout Holiday

Full Time Hobby

My apologies for the late arrival of this review but the sheer workload that is piled on me from this site means I tend to stop listening to a record once the review is done, and I really didn't want to stop listening to this. It seems as far as indie music is concerned all the ideas these days are coming from the US and arriving hot on the heals of the recent No Age record, White Denim's Workout Holiday not only reinforces this perception but positively hammers the point home.

Having been stuck in my car with only this CD for company, Workout Holiday has literally been thoroughly road tested and due to the nature of this listening experience I started formulating some driving metaphors in my head. One of the most exciting features of this band is what I call their 'gear shift' capabilities and by that I mean their penchant for ditching an idle pace for a sudden and electrifying upshift. So I started comparing this record to the experience of, as a youngster, trading your crappy 1 litre MG Metro for a one-time-only excursion down the road in your dads car. But then comparing this band to a high performance dad-car couldn't be further from the truth, I would have to leave that to a Metallica album. No, White Denim is more like getting into the same piece-of-shit Metro with the rusty body-work, decrepit brakes and highly questionable frame, only to find someone has switched your 1 litre engine for a super hybrid piece of engineering complete with flux capacitor that runs on plutonium.

Workout Holiday is highly charged, punk-infused rock that knows no boundaries or limitations. It comes from the Austin, TX trio following their 2007 debut 7" EP Lets Talk About It. It features 4 tracks from the EP which is slightly disappointing, but has become one of the most exciting records to bombard my eager ears for some time. White Denim walk the precarious line between genius and utter chaos, with each song fooling you into thinking it has no clue where it's going. It's ramshackle guitar chords race headlong into the distance with the makeshift rhythm section struggling to keep up, and the vocals erratically punctuating this mess when and where they feel like it. The result is an electrifying run of songs, no two alike, that never end where they start and this unpredictability seems to catch you out every time, making each listen a unique experience.

The EP tracks still form some of the strongest of these 12. Both Lets Talk About It and the following track Shake Shake Shake follow similar structures with furious, guitar driven first halves being taken down a notch at the midway point for an emerging instrumental ending that constantly threatens to finish but, as if with shear enthusiasm, keeps going and going. Sitting changes the pace with a bar-room singalong that sees singer James Petralli opening the vocals like Anthony And The Johnsons. It's a jaunty little number and the most conventional on the album.

Mess Your Hair Up seems to embody this band perfectly. It's opening section is a pretty non-descript mess of buried vocals, but as the mess gets thicker the feint screech of a guitar chord rises from the bog and takes the song off into unforeseen territory. As usual the band seem to be enjoying this change-up so much that they keep it going, reinventing different drum patterns just as the song should be finishing. Towards the end of the record comes a late heavyweight in the form of Don't Look That Way At It. Opening with a sound as erratic as a bucket of marbles being poured over a guitar, it sets up a bubbling cacophony of noise that trickles along at a steady pace, it maintains this complex and crammed formation until the midway point where the fuel injectors kick in The deep drums suddenly give way to crashing snare and cymbal and the complex guitar arrangements are smoothed out to driving chords. It's impressive to say the least.

The two instrumental songs here, Look That Way At It and WDA, sound less like conscious decisions to give space to the record and more like a band who are making things up as they go along and are way too into their instruments to bother with vocals, which may be in there somewhere but have been long buried beneath the ever mounting layers of sound. And this goes some way to describe this album. Each song stumbles into the other and the record just delivers idea after idea without becoming precious about any. They'll set up an impressive first half then tear it down like reckless hooligans. And here lies the diamond in this rough album. A better record may well crop up this year but I doubt if I will see such a reckless approach to an album. As one idea is discarded for another you get the impression that this liberation comes from a knowledge that there are more to follow. You get to the end of the album and instead of wanting to rewind you want to hear the next record, but as this isn't possible you'll have to settle for back to back plays. Highly recommended.

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10th Jul 2008 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Biffy Clyro

Singles 2001 - 2005

Beggars Banquet

Scottish rockers Biffy Clyro have conveniently rounded up their singles from 2001- 2005 in one handy CD. Following the band's departure from Beggars Banquet, this compilation has been criticised as a contract filler - but the problems with it stretch far beyond that. If a compilation of 12 radio edited singles can't sell a band I don't know what will.

Biffy Clyro's surf-drenched sound may be reasonably unique for a British band (and particularly a Scottish one), but it's a far less unique proposition on a global level. Stone Temple Pilots? Check. Nickleback? Check. Point Break soundtrack? Check. In fact the dates covered by this compilation (2001-2005) provide the most confusion, as you'd be forgiven for thinking you'd fallen through a wormhole and landed in the post-grunge mid 90's. Receiving comparisons as prestigious as 'Nirvana!' over the years, at best they are a struggling Smashing Pumpkins homage, at worst not dissimilar to our very own surf-rockers - Reef (R.I.P 1993 - 2003). This is medium heavy rock, primed and ready for use in an unleash-your-inner-rocker style mobile phone ad - as a mainstream corporate beheamoth attempts to rebrand itself as 'down with the kids'.

While the emotional lyrics are all there on paper (blackened skies, heartbreak, sitting mournfully on the beach) I'm pretty sure the troubles drift away as they paddle out into the Newquay surf. It's rarely offensive or unlistenable, but there's just not much here to recommend. You might be better off trying last year's album proper Puzzle....or Nevermind, by Nirvana.

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3rd Jul 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Glastonbury Festival

Somerset

June 27th-29th, 2008

It's the scale that kills you. The cliches about it being a temporary city really are true - Glastonbury is huge. The stages are all great - loved the Park Stage especially, with Santogold, Franz Ferdinand and The Duke Spirit all on rocking form - but it's the sheer size that make this festival so special. As a GlastonB virgin, it's such a different experience than spending all weekend dipping into the BBC's comprehensive coverage.

After taking a strategic decision to bail on the afternoon and make it back in time for the Euro final (and a seat on the train) it's funny seeing it on TV again. You're so close up, and you can see what the bands are actually up to, but you lose that amazing sense of being with thousands and thousands of freaks who are all up for a good time, from the weirdos in costumes (loved the cow and hotdog combo, and the banana/gorilla couple - the pig gimp mask being lead around by  a prosthetic cock was a little step too far at four in the afternoon...) to the kids in cricket jumpers watching Band Of Horses, or the unannounced acts like Franz Ferdinand popping up (always thought they were a bit overhyped, but they're a v good live proposition), and the chance to see new faves like Santogold (possibly my festival highlight) as well as Chimp hits like Band Of Horses and Black Mountain (breakfast rock? you can't beat it) and then big pop acts like Amy Winehouse, Duffy and Jay-Z - who put on a full-on show - totally subtle fuck-you to Noel Gallagher and then a great set full-on of hands-in-the-air hits.

Missed Dizzee Rascal, The Ranconteurs, Hot Chip and Edwyn Collins, (and Vampire Weekend, who pulled the Jay-Z diamonds-in-the-air trick for their night time version of Oxford Comma). Heard they were all great - but did catch an impromptu jazz set from a random trio who'd somehow dragged a clarinet, sax and double bass all the way up to the stone circle for sunrise on sunday morning - had to summon the force myself to get up there, so maximum points for effort to them all lugging that all up there. The other surprise hit was wandering into Trash City (imagine a disco zone in Mad Max 3 are you're halfway there) and finding the full-on hands in the air party that Horsemeat Disco were putting on in the NYC Downlow club - brilliant trannied up mood, with a dark, sweaty murder on the dancefloor vibe. Totally entertaining, with fake taches given out as the get-you-back-in passes.

Bailed early on Sunday to get back up for the real world on Monday so caught The Verve and Neil Diamond on the BBC's catch up, but totally loved it. If you haven't been: do it. 

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#chimp71

30th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Radiohead

Victoria Park, London

June 24th, 2008

In our recent interview with Silver Jews front man David Berman, he described festivals as a form of mass date-rape, where you get a load of willing victims into a field and rob them of what they think they hold dear. He also directed a few comments towards Radiohead, so while I stood for hours in a queue for beer in Victoria Park for the first night of the Radiohead extravaganza, my thoughts turned towards Berman's comments and what he might make of this. The band had turned Victoria Park into their own festival and it was huge. Swarms of people queued for food and drink, Berman would have puked. When the band started up, my intentions of getting near to the front were seriously downgraded so I had to settle for 80 meters back catching a fleeting glimpse of the pin prick on the horizon that I presumed was Thom Yorke.

So the venue was way too big, there were way too many dickheads in the crowd who had clearly come to chat to one-another rather than watch the show and I was way too far away for my liking. But, the music was sensational. I realised that night that Radiohead's music needs to be heard under an open sky. In this context it doesn't matter where you are standing as simply turning your gaze skyward releases this music into infinity where it belongs. It was such a still night and the sound drifted across to me perfectly. Set-wise it was a different story to the Hammersmith gig in 2006, with pretty much all of In Rainbows getting a thorough airing along with many choice morsels from Kid Amnesiac. Hail To The Thief was severely neglected with only There There representing and when any of the older songs cropped up they were not your usual choices. But this was the story of the night for me. I've heard Karma Police, Paranoid Android, The Bends and Fake Plastic Trees countless times live, but tonight it was a case of rediscovering under appreciated gems. Jonny Greenwood excelled himself on many occasions but his layered sampling on Climbing Up The Walls was truly stunning and coupled with Yorke's hauntingly lazy vocals this emerged as a surprising high point.

With each Radiohead gig I attend, I crave less and less these old favorites as the new songs - whether released or not - are so fresh and live. In Rainbows doubled in size under this still night sky with songs like Reckoner, Jigsaw and the chilling atmospherics of Videotape beaming up into the air with euphoric majesty. As Yorke retreated to the second drum kit for Bangers & Mash, Jonny Greenwood was left unattended up the front - an opportunity he seized with both hands providing a seriously fucked up, twisted version of this already raw track with avant guard screeches darting from his contorted guitar like a modern-day Coltrane. The whole evening was brought to an all too early close with one of the best moments of the night. The two big screens that flanked the stage displayed some multi angle camera work split into 4 sections, but as the opening chords of You And Who's Army? crept into view the whole screen was filled with a huge Yorke eye as he stretched up to pear into the lens. This minimal song with it's weary vocals accompanied by this all-seeing eye was mesmerising and as it gave way to the frenetic beats of Idioteque the night was complete.

Outdoor gigs always take shape as night falls and never has this been more true than here. As Yorke emerged after the encore and played a stripped down piano version of The Eraser's Cymbal Rush you could have heard a pin drop out there in that park. The shear size of the venue occasionally diluted the experience, as it's hard to feel connected to a band when you're so far away - but for a long term fan like myself to be reintroduced to songs I know so well is a treat and an unexpected delight. This band have all bases covered, from the light show to the live video art that attempts to do way more than simply show the people at the back what's going on. I would have to disagree with Mr. Berman, as on leaving the park I was buoyant with having been in the presence of greatness and though I strained to see anything and queued for an eternity in my own personal headspace I was flying.

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27th Jun 2008 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Windsor For The Derby

How We Lost

Secretly Canadian

Certainty is luxury these days, I mean to really know something for sure be it good or bad. I know England aren't going to go out of Euro 2008 to Portugal, I know I'll never pay money to see a Tarantino movie again. Musically, I know I'd rather stick pins up under my finger nails than go to a Kaiser Chiefs concert and that Michael Jackson's Billie Jean is one of the greatest 3 minutes life is likely to provide. So all these things are banked, I know where I stand, but the same can't be said for my feelings for Windsor For The Derby. In my vast gamete of appreciation that holds Billie Jean at one end and Kaiser Chiefs at the piss stinking other, Windsor For The Derby would probably fit in the better half - occasionally creeping towards the top but then slipping back down to the wasteland of the middle ground. When they creep slowly in the direction of the the hallowed Billie Jean pinnacle it would be during the eight minutes plus of the blissful The Melody Of A Fallen Tree which opened their 2004 album We Fight Till Death. This song is so pleasing, so complete and so sublime it tears the rest of the record down around it. The record is by no means bad, in fact there are some great moments but none that come close to its opener, and the same could be said for their follow up, How We Lost.

The success of The Melody Of A Fallen Tree throws my certainty out the window with this band. My love for it casts a searching eye around the songs that lie at its feet and though their are many a fine moment on How We Lost I am agin left wanting and confused. None of them come anywhere near the depths of the Keiser Chiefs but in a way I wish they would, at least then I'd know where I stand.

This band's talent lies in 2 thongs, their courage to go on past 4 minutes, although only 2 of them hit the 5 minute mark here, and their Krautrock/Joy Division/ New Order tendencies. When all of these things happen in the same song their position on the scale shifts in their favor. The album starts off well with the hollow sounding Let Go kicking things off and the gritty guitars of Maladies continuing the momentum. Fallen Off The Earth sees the band in familiar territory with steady rhythm building slowly but surely to a subtly layered finale. But it's Hold On that picks this album up by the scruff of it's neck and carries it to greener pastures. Running down the center of the record Hold On's patience and persistence reminds me of why I think I sort of like this band. It maintains the same steady pace as its predecessors but where lesser songs would reach for the fade button this one forges on, long outlasting the gentle vocals with a majestic guitar solo. It aint Melody but hey, it's getting there.

The trouble is it's surrounded by the usual fillers that ultimately condemn this album to yet another not quite memorable effort that does little to convince me of my opinion of this band. There's way too many ambient time wasters that only serve to dry up the once rich pastures of the mentioned high points, leaving a slightly moist wasteland of mediocrity.

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26th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Soe'za

7 Obstacles

Gringo

Of late it seems that any music that has really caught my imagination and got me all excited (in the way that only good new music can) has tended to have been shipped across from America or Canada. Seemingly most of the new British Made bands rising to the top seem to follow the same unremarkable formula. However, happen as it gives me great pleasure to say that this sterling album from Soe’za has only been and gone and been made by a large bunch of fertile minded people from the South West of England.

Judging by their stats the band get two thumbs up from me: 7 or 8 people (since seeing Broken Social Scene live again I’m convinced that more is more), two drummers (name me a bad band who has two drummers), a pleasant blend of his’n’her vocals (harmonious), a cello (hello), the usual bass and guitars (check), and – best of all – a French Horn that rounds the sound marvellously (nice brass).

The album has a vital and urgent intensity throughout (shown best on ‘Don’t Bother Coming Home’) which is nicely balanced by a couple of warming instrumentals with the French Horn taking centre stage. They’ve been compared to Fugazi and Deerhoof, but if that means nothing to you then what you’re looking at / listening to is, simply put, your Alternative-Art-Rock-Improv-Noisy-Punk-Indie-Post-Hardcore genre. Which sounds a lot better than it reads.

Now then, I’ll admit that I don’t always pay close attention to lyrics (I can easily like a great tune with poor lyrics, but great lyrics over a rubbish tune might well pass me by), but some of the pleasantly odd rants and rambles did stand out here. Such as on ‘Any Road’: “Peering through the glass / there is an old dear / scrutinising the cream cakes / how long will they last?”. Sadly they never reveal the sell by date, but happily there are several more moments of bizarre lyrics which, with the occasional hint of that West Country lilt, they ably pull it off where others might not.

7 Obstacles confirms that brass is underrated and underused and that there are some really interesting British bands out there drawing up their own musical blueprints. All told, happen as I think this album is tip-top and one of the most interesting I’ve heard for some time.

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25th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

sigur r?s

me? su? ? eyrum vi? spilum endalaust

...that's "with a buzz in our ears we play endlessly" in case your Icelandic isn't up to scratch... Yes, the epic scope of Sigur Rós returns for a fifth round of triumphant confusion and soundtracks to films that don't exist.

Opener Gobbledigook gets things underway with some acoustic guitars panning side-to-side, almost like a pop version of the SR sound: a cheeky nod to what detractors think of their Hopelandic lyrics?

Inní mér syngur vitleysingur builds up with a great looping chorus that's at the heart of their appeal (for non Icelandic speakers) - it's so powerful and so joyous, you want to sing along, but you've got no idea what it's about, or even what the words really are, so it becomes imbued with meaning/passion/feeling that's all their in the way it's being sung, rather than what's being sung.

með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust continues on great form: Festival is, yes, going to go down really well with any audiences lucky enough to catch them in a field this year - clocking in at a marathon 9.24 - as will the equally cinematic Ára bátur (8.57), recorded with the London Sinfonietta

That said, it's interesting to hear them taking things down a notch with the simplicity of tracks like Íllgresi, Straumnes and the restrained grandeur of All Alright. This is a powerful, moving record that nudges towards a new course for the good ship SS Sigur Rós, without losing their individual take on compass reading.

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24th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Grace Jones

Meltdown 2008, Royal Festival Hall

Grace Jones is the sort of star you can't quite believe actually exists. When she arrives on stage, it's like she's been beamed in on some hyperlink from Venus, or you've been transported into Studio 54 on Tatooine - not like you've just walked in from a sunny evening off the Thames. You hear a lot about stage presence, of artists captivating audiences, but when you see someone of her immense talent, playing at such a high level, you start to realise what can be done in the live arena. 

The first sight of her is the new video for Corporate Cannibal - monochrome shots of her distinctive face, distorted, stretched out, morphing into weird shapes - a simple effect, that captures and accentates that feeling that's she's not quite from this planet. 

Then, when she finally arrives, there's the physical presence - towering up the outsized steps on stage, instantly recognisable behind the screen and the smoke. 

There's the costumes - for a while it's pretty much a new outfit for every number - each throwing different shapes into the enormous fan onstage, huge capes billowing into the corners of the stage, impossible stilettos, nutty hats...

Then, there's the voice - with all the spectacle and show you almost forget just how great it is. The deep, dark, sultry drawl that propels classics like Pull Up To The Bumper, lifts into some astonishing notes and phrasing on torch anthems like La Vie En Rose, before punctuating it all with some hilarious stage banter that kills off any ice queen trivia. 

It's a great set - packed with all the hits - and a couple of new ones, which even she doesn't know (so she just makes it up). The band are super tight, a charged, tense version of that dub-disco sound that Sly and Robbie pioneered for her. Love Is The Drug is kicked out at almost punk speed, with a thin green laser shooting down onto a mirror ball bowler hat she's wearing, the lights splintering off at a hundred miles an hour - an amazing, kinetic effect that makes it look like she's frenetic, when in fact she's standing still, almost taking a break. 

She's also probably the only artist called Grace you'll see who's got the nerve to sing Amazing Grace. Is it a cheeky joke? A nod to her divatastic reputation? A homage to her religious upbringing in Jamaica? Or all of the above? Whatever, it's an apt description, and another classic moment in a great show.

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23rd Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Weezer

Weezer (a.k.a. The Red Album)

2008

The game is up. I'm not gonna take it anymore. Since 2000's self-titled third album (AKA "The Green Album"), Weezer have been distracting me with the smoke and mirrors of the catchy single/great video combo, while sneaking out a sub-standard album peppered with holes. Hash Pipe provided the magic for that album, while Dope Nose led off Maladroit and Beverly Hills pulled the wool over our eyes for Make Believe.

In fact, that only leaves two albums worth mentioning. The debut "Blue Album" snuck under the radar back in '94 - admittedly backed up by great videos. Follow-up Pinkerton might explain much, as it was universally panned by both critics and fans, before growing in stature to become Weezer's undisputed masterpiece - and one of my own all-time favourites. Auteur band leader River Cuomo laid bare his emotional soul over the Madame Butterfly-themed concept album, but the backlash was what almost certainly forced Cuomo back into the proverbial cave, convincing him to spend the rest of his life in tortured purgatory, writing inane troubled-pop star melodrama.

Couple that with the fact that every album since Pinkerton has made a fortune and the maths of spending a reported million dollars recording this pile of crap are hard to deny. Baring your soul for pennies is no one's idea of fun.

But, here lies the main problem. 4 albums later, while the guitars crunch onwards all he ever seems to tell us is how troubled he is and how the critics don't understand - but the more songs he writes about the critics not understanding, the shorter and shorter the patience runs. "No more words will critics have to speak" sing the band on the faux operatic The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations On A Shaker Hymn), re-working the classroom classic with little improvement. If the troubled soul isn't airing it's dirty laundry, it's mucho macho ironic chest-beating ...leading to the stunning rhyme of 'be-atch' with 'ki-ads'. While these inane rhyming couplets provide some amusiment in places, you'll generally be laughing at them, not with them.

Just when you might think Rivers' has stooped as low as he can go, he commits this albums mortal sin: letting the other guys have a go too. Thought I Knew finds guitarist Brian Bell taking the vocals for a slice of trite disco-pop, while drummer Pat Wilson takes lead vocals on Automatic. I dare you to find a more bland slice of by-the-numbers modern rock.

There's a whole bunch of different bonus tracks and what-not, depending on where you buy this record. They manage not to totally massacre a cover of The Band's The Weight and the Broadway musical rock of Miss Sweeney provides some entertaining role-playing as Cuomo smooth-talks his secretary in enjoyingly mis-rhymed lyrics. Heart Songs provides a slightly naff, but mildly touching highlight to the album, as Cuomo takes us through the songs that shaded his past, with the music changing and evolving as the time line progresses. Unfortunatly he wrote himself out of my Heart Songs several albums ago.

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16th Jun 2008 - 5 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Heroine Sheiks

Journey To The End Of The Knife

Amphetamine Reptile Records

Heroine Sheiks main man Shannon Selberg is one of America's most under-rated vocalists and lyricists:- easily dismissed as a crazy person due to his onstage exuberance, he's a master of getting a lot out of a little - painting lyrical scenarios of low-life and sleaze with just a few well chosen words set against his own brand funky punk.

Journey is the Sheiks fourth album and features an all new band line-up with Selberg having moved back home to his native Minneapolis after a spell in New York. The music retains the characteristics of the other Sheiks albums - a natural extension to the sound of Selberg's former band The Cows - but this album has more of a homebrew feel than it's predecessor Out Of Aferica. Opening track Be A Man is a stormer, a joyous slab of noise pop which you'll be singing along with at the first chorus, followed by the punked-up thrash of Hank's Pimp (an unsavoury jailhouse yarn if ever I heard one).

It's not their strongest album - both musically and lyrically it's less adventurous than previous releases and it clocks in at a modest 28 minutes for 8 songs (one of which is a bootleg-quality live track). Still, it has moments of sheer genius, with the lyrically dark Meurte Vous and the spaced-out groove of Co-Angle Phenomenon. AmRep are only printing a thousand of these, so if you're a Selberg fan you'd best get yourself a copy pretty damn sharp. Recommended ...and would have got more stars if it had more tracks.

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13th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wooden Shjips

Vol. 1

Holy Mountain

The other day I got a wide diameter drill bit, fastened it to a pretty heavy-duty machine and preceded to bore a hole steadily through my skull. Of course the pain was immense but the feeling I was after just wasn't there, it just wasn't doing it for me. So a friend said I should try the new singles collection by San Francisco quartet Wooden Shjips and you know what? It hit the mark a treat. If I was a purist in my reviewing ethos then I should really leave you here, but that would be doing a disservice to this band. I think perhaps they need further explanation. So by way of loyalty to you, my readers, I will attempt to listen to this record again.

Vol. 1 is a collection of Wooden Shjips' three previous releases that are now out of print. The 2006 free released EP Shrinking Moon For You, the Dance California 7" and the SOL 7" all received critical acclaim on release and rightly so. My drill analogy is actually spot-on if slightly childish. You'll see this from the opening track Shrinking Moon. Wooden Shjips pump out tightly wound psych rock on a grand scale. In the first few bars they introduce their tools, i.e. hazy guitar drone and often pounding rhythm and pretty much stick with this limited palette through the duration of the session, and it will seem like a session. They keep a steady pace, swirling from ear to ear in a psychedelic frenzy.

Shrinking Moon encapsulates this band perfectly and convincingly sets the agenda early on, and the agenda is: this is not mum, chick or office-friendly. At over eight and a half minutes long you'll be either electrified from the outset or seriously wishing you hadn't put this on. Its tempo is misleading as it hints at regularity with rhythmical guitars and jangling bells but after five minutes without a change you know you're dealing with a band with a keen eye on fucking with your brain. With buried vocals and screeching tones this opener is truly captivating in its single mindedness. But captivating it might be, it's not something you'll want to dwell on so I have to move on, sorry.

Deaths Not Your Friend ploughs similar territory but brings the vocals slightly more to the foreground while Space Clothes breaks from tradition totally and delivers looped interview samples played backwards and forwards all to the sound of running water, bird song and a fucking annoying mosquito like tone. Its effect is surprising as you start to wish for the drill bit again, you're starting to miss the pain you see. It's what all good torturers are taught to do.

Thankfully Clouds Over Earthquake starts the machine up and bores deeper than any other. It's a modest 4.16 minutes but boy does it hurt. The drums are virtually drowned out by the guitars here who manage to reach new heights in monotony and ear piercing agony.

Thank christ I only have two more songs to review before I can shoot myself in the head.

With the introduction of your new tormentor, Dance California takes it slow. The deal is the same but it just takes longer. Like a slow rain soaking you to the bone this song rides celestial waves of dreamy psychedelia but drips filth from every pore. Vocals ooze out in a drugged out haze, drenched in reverb and swirling organs.

One more...

You're on your knees now and as you look at the time line for the final track Sol '07 your heart sinks, 11.40. Your not going to survive this, they've won the psychological battle and your will starts to break. But they don't just want to break you, they want to change you profoundly. I'd like to tell you that Sol '07 traverses many tempos and levels during its marathon eleven minutes but to lie to you now would be cruel. It doesn't. It's steady, relentless, shrouded in muffled noise and never lets up, you can skip on all you like but it doesn't change, you'll think your skip button is bust, it ain't. It finishes off a seriously intense thirty five minutes that hurts like fuck but boy is it addictive. This band give you nothing but like a released prisoner missing his captor, you'll come begging for more. Vol. 1 plays out like a long lost masterpiece by a forgotten band when in fact it's a singles collection by a band without an album yet and that just adds to the excitement this record generates.

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#BC

12th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Robert Pollard

Robert Pollard Is Off To Business

Guided By Voices Inc.

After the many, many, many quick-turnaround releases since the demise of GBV, it's often been Robert Pollard's lack of focus that has drawn critism. Albums seemingly get released when any 12 new songs are complete - and the results have been inconsistent to say the least.

With Robert Pollard Is Off To Business however, the charismatic front man's intention to knuckle down and produce a focused 'rock' record is clear from the start. Opener The Original Heart immediatly recalls the sound of 70's Peter Gabriel - a sound Pollard is a sure fan of, after GBV's rousing cover of Solsbury Hill on their Electrifying Conclusion tour. The classic rock continues straight into The Blondes and, while the song is far from being a carbon copy, it's the guitar intro from Led Zeppelin's Tangerine providing the unlikely reference point. While I would have never doubted Pollard as a Led Zeppelin fan (who isn't?) I could probably not have picked a band as seemingly far removed from Pollard's brand of low-fi bombastics.

Off To Business is definitely one of the most direct records amongst the Pollard cannon in quite some time and on the whole it's a rewarding listen. Multi-instrumentalist Todd Tobias provides the backing as usual - and while the intention is all good it can sound a little thin in places, almost as if a one-man-band is providing the sound, rather than a fully fleshed out band and lavish production. But seriously, what were you expecting?

Killer track No One But I is easily up there with GBV's best, with it's understated verses providing a calm before the ever ascending chorus. It's quickly followed by the equally engaging Weatherman and Skin Godess, and the condensed rock of To The Path!, which crams the contents of a Yes epic into a mere 3 minutes 25.

At 10 songs and 33 minutes it's over before it has begun and for once I'm left wanting more, not less. After amicably departing from Merge Records after a four year stint, this is the first (of presumably many) records to be released directly by Pollard, through his own label - Guided By Voices Inc. Hopefully it marks the start of a succesful new chapter.

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11th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Melvins

Nude With Boots

Ipecac Recordings

This year sees the mighty Melvins celebrate 25 years together, basically a silver jubilee in a big smelly dress. There's an interesting "timeline of grunge" on Wikipedia's grunge music page which shows the births and deaths of the various bands associated with the sound of Seattle: it's underscored by one constant bar-line labelled The Melvins, the band formed by guitarist Buzz (King Buzzo) Osbourne back in 1983. They remain the unsung heroes of American rock, having been Kurt Cobain's favourite band, and spawning Mudhoney in the process. For 90% of their existence, King Buzzo's loyal partner has been drummer Dale Crover, and together with a Spinal Tap style succession of bass players they have ploughed a deep and individual furrow through the battlefields of heavy rock.

These days (the) Melvins operate as a four-piece, with the already established duo Big Business providing bass and a second drummer, and all four members providing vocals. Nude With Boots is the second album for this line-up and it evolves nicely from its predecessor (a) Senile Animal. The Kicking Machine starts things off with the twin drum kits pounding out a peg-legged funk peppered with extended guitar riffs and vocal harmonies. It's about as close to a Melvins manifesto as you could get - if this track grabs you then you're going to like the album. The songs are memorable, and the sense of a band working this out together is very strong. The influence of Big Business comes through a lot more, Jared Warren's vocals are a terrific counterpoint to Buzzo's grizzled growl and Coady Willis works instinctively with the veteran Crover.

Like most Melvins albums, there are parts that will grab your attention first (The Smiling Cobra, Suicide in Progress) and other parts that make more sense once you've heard them a few times. The last couple of tracks on the record tend towards the experimental noise-rock side of their sound, rather than ending with a knockout punch. More of a spiked punch. There are rumours that the band is planning to visit the UK later this year to celebrate their quarter century in a big way. Watch this space, and, buy this rekkid.

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#HarrisPilton

9th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

My Morning Jacket

Evil Urges

Rough Trade

Following 2005's stellar album Z, My Morning Jacket continue to forge forward, cutting their own path through modern music. From the opening song, this is an unusual album that will not fail to surprise any existing fan. With Joe Chiccarelli at the controls, many of the band's trademark sounds have been left behind and many more contemporary influences have been brought in, signaling an attempt to widen the band's appeal with a more 'modern' sound. Although here 'modern' seems to mean the 70's and 80's - rather than 60's.

Opener Evil Urges expands on some of the disco sounds that started to appear on Z, but with Jim James reverb heavy sound on the back burner the song opts for an unrecognisable vocal style, perhaps best described as 'Bee-Gees'. Touch Me I'm Going To Scream seems to unsuccessfully re-work the melody from Z's far superiors It Beats 4U, but the most unusual is yet to come.

There was a never a more apt song title than Highly Suspicious, as while the paranoid tale of 'British Bobbies' pounding down the door attempts to deal with the modern Big Brother society it unintentionally reduces the listener to a baffled state - with the multi-tracked vocals of "Highly Suspicious!" hollering over the pounding funk beat. As a band, My Morning Jacket have often been compared to Neil Young - and it's a comparison that is still apt here, but unfortunately the album in question would be Neil Young's misfiiring electronic effort of the early 80's - Trans. Like that record, the attempt to connect with a 'modern' audience has produced a record more out of touch than ever before.

It's hard to tell the reasoning behind this move, as Z was an outstanding improvement on an already outstanding sound. It was a huge step forward and in many ways a departure from their previous records, but there was a solid core to it that maintained everything there was to like about the band. Perhaps that record was such a success that the band saw no restrictions on moving even further forwards with this release - or that they were held back with Z and it was a record that didn't pay off. Only time will tell.

It doesn't all miss the target of course and even title song Evil Urges has the makings of a great track, let down by the affected vocals. Once you're past the bewildering few openers things do settle down, with the more familiar sound of I'm Amazed, Thank You Too or Look At You, although admittedly some of these tracks would only rate as standard fare on an album like It Still Moves. The Librarian is a pleasant enough song, but the lyrics are so screamingly cringe-worthy ("Take off those glasses and let down your hair for me") that it's hard to see past them - to what presumeably isn't just about Jim James falling for the plain jane who showed him how to use the 'interweb', but is in fact advice to be 'happy with the inner you'. And not end up like Karen Carpenter. While the bands lyrics have never been deep or profound, there was always a sense of something beneath the surface and the emotional delivery of songs like The Bear or Gideon left the listener with plenty to think about.

Things do get back to the level you would expect from this band towards the end, with Remnants and the prog rock vibe of Touch Me I'm Going To Scream Part 2. Smokin From Shootin' is the album's one truly spectaucular track, but it's too little too late, leaving a spotty success rate that is hardly equal to the numerous highlights of previous albums. This unique band have taken their music in a new direction and while it is still certainly a unique sound I'm afraid to say that at the moment it's a direction I'm unlikley to follow them down. In many ways this is still a good record, with plenty to reccomend it over much of the junk that passes for music these days, but next to much of the band's other work it pales in comparison. Maybe I'm just not ready for it yet, and my kids are going to love it.... but 25 listens in it still isn't clicking and I can't help but feel disappointed.

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6th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Mudhoney

The Lucky Ones

Sup Pop

20 years after the release of their first record - Superfuzz Bigmuff - Mudhoney return with their eighth, but you’d have to listen very closely to find any obvious signs of maturing in that two decade period. Ditching the brass section flourishes of 2006’s Under A Billion Suns, the Lucky Ones is Mudhoney doing what Mudhoney do best – no-messing, fuzzed up punk, topped with the odd killer riff and Mark Arm’s sneeringly laid-back vocal.

Nice and compact at eleven songs averaging about 3 minutes each, it doesn’t hang about, sounding like it was recorded in about three and a half days…which incidentally, it was. The band hit the groove early on and ended up recording the record in record time. Which is great news for old fans, recently reminded of Mudhoney’s particular brand of wayward genius thanks to the re-release of Superfuzz Bigmuff. Opening track “I’m Now” may try and position the band: “The past makes no sense, The future looks tense. I’m Now!” but the energy, chaos and unmistakable sound that marked their 1990 debut, is all over “The Lucky Ones” (with slightly slicker production perhaps).

Whilst some may argue that this makes the album dated on release, others would say ‘Who gives a shit?’ leave the boundary breaking to the kids. Back in the day, Mudhoney somehow stumbled across new musical territory. It seemed like a lot of fun then – and it still does.

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5th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

The War On Drugs

Wagonwheel Blues

Secretly Canadian

Let's get the negative stuff out of the way first as I have only one solitary gripe about 'Wagonwheel Blues' the debut album from Philadelphia's The War on Drugs. At 43 minutes I just wish that it was longer.

It is oft observed that movies released early in the season miss out on the accolades when it comes to the Academy Awards. 'And the Oscar goes to...' well usually the film most fresh in the memory of the Academy members. With this in mind I shall duly make a note in my diary for December 2008. It will read 'must remember to seriously consider 'Wagonwheel Blues' for my nomination for 'album of the year'. Perhaps I'm being somewhat premature and that in due course another release will yet supersede this – but it will have to be special because 'Wagonwheel Blues' is an absolute corker of an album.

Those things that look so perfect on paper do not always prove to be so in reality. The answer is not always equal to the sum of the parts. The trophy-less years of the Real Madrid 'Galacticos' era are testimony to the difficulty of creating the dream team. It is with wonder then that 'The War on Drugs' have managed to draw up a wish list of sounds which when thrown into the mixing desk cauldron have created the most magical potion. Instead of 'the eye of a newt and toe of a frog' the band have whisked in the following ingredients;

- The Tom Petty drawl
- Choppy Velvet Underground riffs and chiming John Squire licks
- Drums of a civil war army marching into battle
- The bar room good times of Bruce and his E street band
- A Dylanesque way of dressing mystical lyrics as simple nursery rhymes
- The determination of Smog hitting the ground running
- A meandering journey like Talking Heads' on a road to nowhere
- The fuzz of the Happy Mondays at their funky and dirtiest 'Wrote for Luck' best
- The moody but (peter) hooky bass lines of Joy Division.

The resulting 'Wagonwheel Blues' mixture sounds both exactly, and simultaneously absolutely nothing, like this list of luminaries. Where some bands ape and imitate their heroes (yes that's you Explorer's Club) The War on Drugs give a polite nod of acknowledgement and thanks for the directions proffered before independently setting out to explore a path entirely of their own choosing. As the band say they roll like 'a Wagonwheel with a monkey on your back' but then remind the listener that 'there is no need. There is no need for urgency'. This road is littered with escapades that exhilarate as they build but with a tantalising tease so that the final destination remains for ever just over the brow of the next hill.

In case I have been too subtle, and I didn't think I have, then I shall bang you over the head one last time. 'Wagonwheel Blues' is a great album and I encourage you to give 'The War on Drugs' a hearing.

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#Muxloe

5th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Shearwater

Rook

Matador Records

2006's Palo Santo marked a bit of landmark for Shearwater with Jonathan Meiburg taking center stage as lead vocalist and the result was a much fuller sound that was way more ambitious than any of the bands previous work. The followup Rook has much work to do to keep up with its predecessor and despite a few bumps I'm pleased to report a worthy successor has taken up the crown.

The arresting cover image depicts a dark figure of a man with arms outstretched and cloaked head to foot in a swarm of rooks, His face is unrecognizable through the mass of feathered bodies and as you make your way down his solemn frame birds burst through his coat and emerge from pockets. He stands on a barren shoreline and the pallet for this scene is somber and dark with no hint of colour. While listening to the 10 tracks within, this image starts to take on new resonance and meaning. Rook is very much concerned with man's intersection with the natural world in all its facets from hunter to prey to the eventual extinction of species including mankind itself. Much of the record seems to come from a place so barren and wild that the very existence of human beings appears as nothing more than a haunting memory. Much like Palo Santo the music here can shift violently from a frail whisper to a calamitous boom and with Meiburg's unmistakable guidance Rook becomes a record of great visual power.

Though this record starts and finishes with two fine songs they don't seem like the right choices and had they been put in a different order Rook would work better as a complete concept. On The Death Of The Waters breathes life into the record with the faintest of breaths. Meiburg's vocals are as grey and as still as a winters day until the crashing waters change the scene in the form of a cacophonous orchestra. The violence of the two halves do seem to jar this early on in the record and it's not until the warmth of the opening guitar chords of the next track the we really start to settle in. Rooks is a glorious piece of work and one that we have come to expect from this band of late. With a steady drum pace and glistening musical rhythm section Meiburg's sweet tones drift gently throughout but show signs of teeth at just the right point. For me this feels like the album opener and it heads up a run of songs that form the spinal chord of this album and it's from these five songs that the structure and strength radiate.

Leviathan, Bound is a slow building song based around a gentle rhythm that ends in magnificent strings and ever increasing percussion subtleties while Home Life employs a similar structure originating from crackling drum taps and working towards an orchestral middle section that takes flight amid the soaring vocals of their captain. The music simmers like brooding weather patterns and changes direction with a glorious unpredictability, rising and falling, swirling and trickling.

Lost Boys struts proudly to a marching rhythm and triumphant horns tapering off slowly to the boiling might of Century Eyes. This is the first time the guitars have been given a proper run and they beat their fists with an energy of a force that has been kept under wraps for too long. Unfortunately the momentum that has been gathering ever since Rooks is somewhat dampened by some of the later tracks. I Was A Cloud seems to revisit this bands past at a time when the record was bravely conquering new territory and South Col's conceptual insistence might play to the theme of this album but slows things right down here.

Thankfully the shear scale of The Snow Leopard gathers these stragglers up in its all-encompassing arms and carries them away. It's often the case that a voice's true nature is found in its extremities and though Meiburg's vocal range is certainly extensive it is often held back like a force too powerful to unleash. Well there are fantastic glimpses of it here and it is only matched by the titanic mariachi horns that rise from the depths to accompany it. It's a colossal song and should really end the record. It feels like the band are giving it their all in a last chance show of power and the gentle melody of The Hunter's Star, achingly beautiful though it is, whispers in its wake like something of an after thought. It hurts to criticize as this song, had it appeared anywhere else in the record, would pierce you to the core with it's melancholy. But if song-order is the only thing that tries to drag this down then so be it, for at the beating heart of this album are some of the richest musical moments this band have created.

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4th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

My Morning Jacket

It Still Moves / Acoustic Citsouca / Z / Okonokos

ATO records

Following their seperation from major label backer Sony BMG, Dave Matthews' ATO records have taken the opportunity to re-release their exisiting My Morning Jacket catalogue, which not entirely by coincidence ties-in with the release of the latest MMJ record Evil Urges, due next week.

It Still Moves - 2003 - 4 Stars
It Still Moves was considered the major label debut for the band after the success of The Tennesse Fire and At Dawn. As an album it's not particulalry cohesive, but it plays out nicely as a collection of great songs - and is a logical major label sequel to the home-grown efforts of the earlier records. The record provides little evolution from those records, but it magnificently showcases everything that there is to like about the band, from the opener Magheeta, through the rolling guitars of Golden or Just One Thing to the pounding rock of Steam Engine.

While many of its charming songs have since been overshadowed by the tightly honed follow up Z, It Still Moves provides for a great listen and is home to many of MMJ's staple live songs like Run Thru and Golden - plus the epic One Big Holiday, which is nothing short of spectacular.

Acoustic Citsuoca Live! At The Startime Pavilion - 2004 - 3.5 Stars
The band bridged the gap between major releases with this 5 track 'acoustic' EP, which is actually less live than it implies - as the "Startime Pavillion" show mentioned never actually occured. The EP was recorded over three nights in Austin, but none the less provides a magical document of the bands shows - particularly Jim James' solo acoustic shows. James' haunting voice dominates the release on highlights like Golden and Bermuda Highway, but the gem here has got to be the unbeatable version of The Bear, from album The Tennessee Fire. The song has a magnificent slow-building power at the best of times, but here it showcases James' vocal talents, unquestionable power and passion as a performer, building to a spine-tingling frenzied finale.

Z - 2005 - 5 Stars
Things stepped up a gear with Z, where the band moving away from the self-produced template of their previous efforts, handing over production duties to John Leckie (The Stone Roses, The Verve, Radiohead). It's a move that paid off hugely, with Leckie tightening the band's sound to the point of breaking. The sprawl of previous releases is trimmed to perfection, while every song is well-honed and muscular, with highlights ranging from the note perfecd electronics of It Beats 4U through the long rocker Lay Low to the powerful finale of Dondante. Eclipsing much of the bands previous work, this album moved them up to another level, bringing in new sounds and ideas while retaining all of their inherant qualities. Brilliant. Read our original revew here.

Okonokos - 2006 - 3 Stars
Following the release of Z, My Morning Jacket embarked on an epic tour, which did eventually land in London - but not before this two night residency at the legendary Fillmore in San Franciso. This live record documents the tour and was released with an accompanying DVD. While live albums can often be a little disappointing, this one rounds up everything that is good about the band and serves almost as a live greatest hits - covering 8 of the 10 songs from Z as well as numerous beefed-up renditions from their extensive back catlogue. Without seeing this unmissable live band in the flesh, this is about as close to the experience as you are going to get. Read our original revew here.

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3rd Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Fleet Foxes

Fleet Foxes

Bella Union / Sub Pop

Hailing from Seattle, 5 piece Fleet Foxes have been causing quite a stir locally and while Sub Pop have long been Seattle's finest they thankfully they stuck to their "only sign bands from Seattle" code to snap up this band - as let's face it, that's a code that has seen more than a few happy exceptions recently (The Shins, Postal Service, Oxford Collapse, Flight of the Conchords (!?)).

Using heavy precussion, multiple vocals and a giant dollop of campfire guitar acoustics, Fleet Foxes gently rustle up an epic granduer that you often won't see coming. Everybody's talking about the Crosby, Stills & Nash sound that the band have, but it's just as valid to compare them to contempories like My Morning Jacket and label-mates Band of Horses - as all rely heavily on a powerful voice to carry the dense, sophisticated music. While there's a definite nostalgia to Fleet Foxes, it never seems like pastiche or parody - just fun, passionate music, with a depth and quality way beyond the band's slender years.

Thankfully there's a healthy dose of Young in that Crosby, Stills and Nash sound and while the hymnal harmonies might be the obvious USP here it's the rockier numbers that have grabbed my attention. The sweeping guitars of Ragged Wood build in beautiful climbing chords, while the pounding drums and keyboard provide the backing for a grand narrative on Your Protector. Thanks to more examples on the Sun Giant EP (English House and Mykonos in particular) it seems clear that this is an element that has plenty of room for development within the band.

For a debut album this is a pretty stellar release and you can only hope that things are going to get even better from this band. Fantastic.

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#CSF

2nd Jun 2008 - 4 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Silver Jews

ULU, London

May 29th, 2008

"I always thought London didn't give a fuck," claimed the stunned David Berman at ULU last night, as he stood aghast before the adoring crowd. He couldn't have been more mistaken. Although his most recent albums have seen accompanying tours Berman has a reputation of not playing by the rules when it comes to promotion - so when his band of Silver Jews roll into town you'd be a fool to miss them, as who knows when they'll return again. Always up for a challenge, Berman had a tough job in taking the stage after the support act Monotonix. Thrash metal from Tel Aviv is tricky at the best of times, but when the front man and drummer take their set-up marauding around the venue, barging into the crowd, topless and sweaty and screaming with vein busting ferocity, you've got to wonder how the Jews are going to follow this.

With glorious ease was the answer to that question as the first note rang out and the quietly confident Berman, dressed up to the nines, approached the mic. With the glamorous Cassie Berman at his right and twin guitars either side, the band lifted the roof from the start with old favorites Random Rules and Smith & Jones encouraging near euphoria from the fans. "I've got it all arranged," claimed Berman, "I'm gonna play an old one then a new one then an old one and so on," and with the exceptional musical accompaniment old and new melted into one sound. Silver Jews have always been a lyrics band with the actual music coming in second place in order of importance, but last night they morphed into such an impressive whole, raising the sound to a fuller and richer scale. On the lengthened musical end to Random Rules Berman walked around surveying each individual performance of his band like a school teacher. And things like this were another unexpected highlight. Having met Berman a few weeks ago I found him to be a warm and yet slightly reserved character who had only recently become acquainted with his fan base, but on stage he grows in confidence carrying himself like a Nashville Jarvis Cocker.

Although it was quite something to hear some of my favorite Silver Jews moments played out live, including some early gems like Trains Across The Sea, it was the new songs that really shone last night. Aloyisius, Bluegrass Drummer came storming out with a wonderfully brisk tempo and the playful San Francisco B.C. is obviously a band favorite being introduced by Berman "I hear you guys like your Fake Tales Of San Francisco over here, well we've got one of our own." Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea has many highlights, but Suffering Jukebox has to be one of the finest and it lived up to itself last night as did the fantastic Strange Victory, Strange Defeat. Both these songs benefit greatly from Cassie Berman's accompanying vocals and her presence on stage makes the whole show truly memorable. It's not often that you get a husband and wife partnership so lovingly and yet understatedly played out on stage and on the songs where Mr and Mrs Tennessee acknowledged each others presence, it was genuinely touching and really enhanced the songs and words being sung. "You're the only Tennessee," sang Berman adoringly to the woman at his side and the new album closer We Could Be Looking For The Same Thing took on new sweetness played out by this couple. "People don't write songs like that anymore," claimed Berman, damn right.

This show completes the trio of Silver Jews treats this week following the new record and the interview and hopefully clears up any misgivings Berman might have had concerning his bands place in London's heart. We give a shit DCB so don't be a stranger.

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#BC

30th May 2008 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Mudhoney

Superfuzz-Bigmuff (Deluxe Edition)

Sub Pop

Despite being named after a couple of guitar effects pedals and featuring a song that confesses/proudly proclaims that "I've been drunk for 24 hours", it's difficult not to undersell the importance of Mudhoney's debut album Superfuzz Bigmuff and it's place in the timeline of, well, of popular music really. Such grand statements probably sit uneasily with the band themselves and most definately would have when these four long-haired outcasts from Seattle recorded it nearly 20 years ago. After all, they pretty much sound drunk all over it - a mood helped no end by the distorted sludge sound of the eponymous effects pedals. But this distortion, sludge, long hair and beer, laid out over punked-up three minute songs, combined to give the world 'Grunge' - the predominant alternative music scene of the early 90s.

A couple of years before Teen Spirit was a target in the bitter sights of fellow Seattlite Kurt Cobain, Superfuzz Bigmuff (along with its label Sub Pop, formed two years earlier) announced that something was most definitely happening in America's Pacific North West.

"We wanna be free, we wanna be free to do what we anna do. We wanna be free to ride...to ride our machines without being hassled from the man. And we wanna get loaded". Peter Fonda's plea in 'The Wild Angels', sampled as an intro to In 'N' Out Of Grace sums up far better than I ever could, where Mudhoney were coming from. There's no doubt this is an angry album, but whereas Cobain was to implode with that anger, Mudhoney had a sense of humour (and presumably a steady supply of ale) to balance it out and help carry them from the frustration of their surroundings.

Touch Me I'm Sick, which should always be the first name on the teamsheet for a "Grunge Album Select 11", sets the pace: "Well i've been bad. And I've been worse. And I'm a creep yeeeahhh. And I'm a jerk. Touch Me I'm Sick!". And the rest of the album plays out over this cynical, but above all beer-swilling fun, terrain. Extras on this version, re-issued to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the lengendary Sub Pop, include singles, demos, and a couple of live recordings from 1988, which as the promotion blurb states "are all remastered, or in some cases, mastered for the very first time."!

Mark, Steve, Matt and Dan: the John, Paul, George and Ringo of my early adolesence, I salute you. Now let's get loaded.

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#chimpovich

30th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Silver Jews

Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea

Drag City

It's been over two and a half years since David Berman last flung open the doors to his much coveted mental closet of worldly wisdom and on that occasion he left us with tales of "a place past the blues I never want to see again," and threatening to take "a hammer to it all." A rare tour accompanied the release of Tanglewood Numbers but then the doors were fastened shut once more and the world was lonely again. With these terminal words left ringing in our ears what were we to expect from the followup to Tanglewood's dark vista?

Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea sees a few returning members for a tried and tested Silver Jews line up in the form of Tony Crow, Brian Kotzur and the twin-ax attack of Peyton Pinkerton (Natural Bridge) and William Tyler (Bright Flight) who all join Berman and wife Cassie who, as usual, provides warmth and texture to much of the background space. In tone and content it's a fascinating addition to the puzzle that Berman has been relentlessly and stubbornly crafting since this band's conception in 1989. It stands alone from any other Jews album in terms of its relationship with the world and provides us with a valuable insight into this artist's shift in consciousness. And a shift is exactly what Lookout Mountain marks but, as might be expected with Berman, it's not the shift one would expect. Berman's opinions, beliefs, outlooks and observations remain firmly the same and provide the linking trail back to the other records, but it's Berman's viewpoint on these things that has changed. The world according to the Silver Jews has always been described through its minutiae, in all its tragic detail, but there is a sense of resolution in these songs that breathes new life into their whispering lungs. Instead of bitterness or anger there is a newfound tenderness for our culture but instead of emerging as celebration this tenderness brings with it feelings of pity. Berman's resolution acknowledges this pity and where his previous albums would leave it there, Lookout Mountain strives for a sense of warning. Where previous albums posed questions, this sixth addition provides the answers.

"What was not but could have been, was my obsession way back when./ Now I just remember this, what is not but could be if." And so this seismic shift is seen in full glory in the first verse of the opening song. The statement of lack remains in place but the gaze is turned forward to the future and a new feeling of hope is introduced. With the economic delivery of a Japanese Haiku poem, Berman relays his wisdom with mono-syllabic accuracy in this opener and with it a multi-faceted, new vernacular is born. But this look to the future is no unconditional march into greener pastures. Berman's new hope is full of lament for the past. The future as seen in Suffering Jukebox has no place for the past that Berman once belonged to. It tells of this sad machine in a "happy town, over in the corner breaking down." Could this machine be Berman himself, trying to impart a wisdom to a world that is happy enough without it? Or it could it be a comment on music's place in our society too preoccupied with the "cult of number one"? After-all, the jukebox, though neglected, is "all filled up with what other people need." Is this money or music itself?

This is echoed on Strange Victory, Strange Defeat when Berman talks of all the "handsome grandsons in these rock band magasines," and asks "what have they done with the fat ones, the bald and the goateed?" This song revisits a songwriting method that is well tested. Berman has a unique ability to describe man's follies by way of the absurd and often using animals, be it a "kitten from Great Britain" or as seen here, "Squirrels imported from Conneticut, just in time for fall." This song tells of a squirrel uprising against what Berman calls "a nightmare world of craven mediocrity." With wife, Cassie in assistance the squirrels call out "We're coming out of the black patch! / We're coming out of the pocket! / We're calling into question / such virtues gone to seed!" This is a reference to an Emerson quote in which he describes Fashion as a "Virtue gone to seed." So Berman is mounting an uprising against this new culture of seeming victories that ultimately end in "strange defeats." It's a culture that promises to be a lot more fun but as Berman asks, "how much fun is a lot more fun? / Not much fun at all."

Lookout Mountain also sees Berman assume a new style of writing in the form of a greater reliance on narrative. The first person shifts to the third with his observations being played out by a myriad of protagonists in far fetched and highly entertaining stories. This is seen most notable in the centerpiece of the record San Francisco B.C. It tells the story of a failed relationship that leads to all sorts of drama including Mafioso QVC operators, jewelry heists and murder mystery. It's one of the first time Berman's expert turn-of-phrase has been put to such a use and you hang on his every word for gems like "he came at me with some fist cuisine." It's the best brawl description since "a can of whoop-ass." With slightly less success and complete with seagull noises, Party Barge employs the same grasp of narrative and together they seem to allow Berman an added freedom that he had only ever enjoyed by putting animals in human situations. The characters are never that far removed from Berman himself and almost represent different facets of his complex character.

The record ends in a way no other has done before and in this ending the great Silver Jews shift is complete. We Could Be Looking For The Same Thing is a love song first of all, but a love song that only Berman could have written. In lines like "We could belong to each other / If you're not seeing anyone," we see Berman's ability to juxtapose the ultimate with the intimate, destiny with monotony. But it also sets up a love story from the point of view of two people at a later and more resourceful stage in their lives where they haven't so much downgraded their hope, but have become more realistic in their search for destiny. With this in mind, Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea is Berman accepting the faults of this existence but seeming more comfortable with their existence. In tone and content this record acts as a removal from the bad in society while still acknowledging that it exists for other people. It almost represents a truth that someone can emerge the other side and still be intact. In this respect it's a triumphant record but in a very realistic way. At just over half an hour it is more compact or concise. It comes from a less fragile place than his previous writings and displays this artist's unique and all too rare respect and appreciation for language. If society is indeed seen and experienced through the critical eyes of our artists then Berman is an essential addition.

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28th May 2008 - 4 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Wedding Present

El Rey

Vibrant

I'd written my review for this album long before I even heard it and thankfully I didn't have to go back and change much. Where 2005's Take Fountain had been destined to be a release from Cinerama, it was re-purposed at the last minute following a change in personnel and a darker turn in the songwriting. With The Wedding Present brand revived, El Rey has had an entire gestation period and with Steve Albini back in the mix you've got a potent cocktail - which fortunately does not fail to explode. With the advances in technology since the lo-fi early days of George Best or Bizarro, there's no need for a technical back-step and the production is loud, crisp and powerful.

Since the release of Take Fountain in 2005, David Gedge has taken Interstate 5 south and re-located from his post-Leeds home of Seattle down to sunny Los Angeles, although I'm not sure we can expect an Entourage cameo anytime soon. The setting might have moved to Hollywood (Winona Ryder and Spider-man get a namecheck), but the subjects stays the same: broken hearts, cheating, lust, regret. The usual.

Given the usually autobiographical nature of Gedge's songs it would seem that he still hasn't got over his last break up - or he's got another ex-girlfriend already. Either way, his loss is our gain and the serial dating of California has seemingly provided much inspiration. With some of the more Cinerama-esque songs of Take Fountain excised (Larry's, Don't Touch That Dial) and the less-than-sympathetic production from Albini added to the mix and what's left is a beefed up sound with guitar-heavy riffs that leave barely a weak track on the album.

It may be a more up-to-date version of The Wedding Present sound - what with the talk of text messages, on Don't Take Me Home, JPEGs on Intenet obsession tune Model, Actress, Whatever and even a mention of text messaging - but all the ingredients are here and there's even a return to the mosh-pit friendly style of Brassneck on Soup. Speaker stack facing guitar work-outs are also thankfully represented on The Thing I Like Best About Him Is His Girlfriend and Boo Boo amongst others. The dueling female vocals of bassist Terry De Castro may recall Cinerama here and there, but that'll be Cinerama at their best. There's no single track as epic as the sprawling Interstate 5 off Take Fountain, but this is a thoroughly consistent, effortlessly entertaining album. Have no doubt: this is pure, undiluted Wedding Present.

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27th May 2008 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Ting Tings

We Started Nothing

Columbia

This duo have really got me stumped. I would prefer not to review this record than make up my mind as to whether I hate it or not. One thing I do know is that lead single That's Not My Name is fucking awesome. I first heard of The Ting Tings on a Later...With Jools Holland show sometime last year. They played this lead single and at first every judgmental nerve in my body kicked into action and I was ready to make a cup of tea until the next proper band came on. But then something strange happened which has started this acute indecision. With Jules De Martino on drums and backing vocals and the ever energetic Katie White up front they seemed like a sugary White Stripes. After the initial tirade of random girls names all the music stopped and White proceeded to craft a live loop of her harmony vocals with various pedals. The drums then picked up once more building to higher and higher levels of noise while all the time White matched this buildup with frenzied shrieks into the microphone. This went on far longer than any pop song should and with this near punk change-up crashing over the live looped harmony the whole song was transformed into something amazing and truly mesmerizing.

Why can't I just leave it there?

Ok, some facts: Tipped in the top 3 of the BBC's Sound of 2008 poll The Ting Tings have actually been around for a while. They formed the band after being dropped from their original label and much of the music, especially That's Not My Name seems to be a valiant reaction to the constrains and turmoil they experienced the first time around. They hail from Salford and put out a few DIY releases last year including the frantic disco-pop number Fruit Machine before releasing album opener Great DJ in March this year.

I can't think of any more facts so I guess I'm going to have to give some sort of opinion. First of all, this really isn't aimed at me, I'm an old bastard who's loving the new Bonny 'Prince' Billy album. So with that said, I find the rest of this record instantly appealing with its unlimited supply of catchy hooks, upbeat rhythm and endlessly energetic vocals. It's realistic in that it isn't trying to be anything more than what it is, and that's 10 flawless pop songs that are meant to be danced to not pondered over. But on the flip side, good pop music often brings with it the 'Pringle' effect. Once you pop, you can't stop, meaning, this shit stays in your head for 'like' ever. In it's unfailing energy comes unfailing irritation, in it's unashamed pop blueprint comes shallow ditties that have instant appeal but zero lasting effect. That's Not My Name is by far the best song on the record but it too has been diluted from its original live incarnation down to an album friendly song that plays all too nicely with the other kids. I wasn't surprised to see Shut Up And Let Me Go - probably the most irritating song here - feature on the new iTunes advert, as We Started Nothing is a bulging Christmas hamper to lazy advertising executives worldwide. But good on them, I hope they make a pile of money out of those soulless rats and make some kids dance along the way.

Is that ok?

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26th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

The National

A Skin, A Night / The Virginia EP

Beggars

A Skin, A Night - A Film By Vincent Moon

Personally I can take or leave films about bands and the trying times they experience while putting together a record, but Vincent Moon's portrayal of The National and the long and laborious creation of their biggest selling album Boxer is compelling viewing for the most part. It has the regular lingering shots of a troubled front man in the creative process while the rest of the band sit around in the recording studio waiting for his opinion but the stuff in between is beautiful. I have always seen The National's music as cinematic and Boxer solidified this with its darkly meandering melodies and cryptic verse, so for Moon to marry this up with long shots of a city asleep or lonely subway trains creeping through hauntingly desolate stations really brings to life the missing visual half to this bands music. Each shot is filtered through a heavy grainy film and is shrouded in stark contrasting black and white.

The dialogue is interesting as we discover this band's long recording history and the insecurities that come with it. 2005's Alligator was the first real break through for this band but it merely served to identify them with their fan base and it wasn't until last years stunning Boxer that things really started to change and they became aware of their growing presence in the music scene. The mood of the lighting is mirrored by much of the dialogue provided mainly by Berninger who comes across as the shy and introverted personality we see biting his fingernails on stage. He talks of his need to drink red wine before going on stage in order to shut out the fact that he's standing in front of a throbbing crowd. The success of Boxer doesn't seem to be making things any easier for this reserved leader. The demo versions of some of the songs are interesting especially when seen from the drummers point of view. Bryan Devendorf is one of the rising stars of Boxer as his rhythm dexterity provides much of the power and pace of the record.

The film as a whole doesn't provide us with much we didn't already imagine about The National but Moon's moody cinematic portrayal of the music is stunning and gives these songs the quiet weight they deserve.

3/5

The Virginia EP

Where the film may have lacked any new insights into The National's music, this 12 track EP makes up for it. It's basically a demo/live record which ordinarily wouldn't light me up as they tend to be lesser versions of your favorite tracks cynically pumped out to die-hard fans for a quick buck. But this EP is actually quite generous. Although some of the best tracks here were featured on the Extras tour EP the whole package serves as a worthy accompaniment to the Mothership of Boxer.

There aren't many bands these days that offer B-Sides worth bothering with but the first 3 songs here are equal to many of the lucky ones that made the Boxer final cut. All originating from Alligator's various releases, You've Done It Again Virginia is from Lit Up and Santa Clara and Blank Slate are both B-Sides to the Mistaken For Strangers single and it's Blank Slate that really shines. It's a reworking of an earlier B-Side Keep It Upstairs from the Abel single but this time it's been lifted out of it's original hollow surroundings and is given a glorious rock makeover and the result is one of the best National songs to date. Boxer has really elevated their sound with added strings and drumming of epic proportion so it's so special to hear some of these demo versions that show the band in their stripped down clarity. Forever After Days simply has Berninger's lonely vocals matched with a gentle guitar and lo-fi organ while Rest Of Years is a hollow slow burner that rises to a dirty finale of electric guitar and calamitous drums. But it's the Slow Show demo that gets the prize here as it did on the Extras EP. It's one of the finest songs on Boxer and here in it's bare bones it really shines. Berninger's vocals are mumbled to the point of near indecipherability and so are rendered down to just another instrument in this rich musical tapestry.

One of the best things about this EP is hearing a retrospective of this band's back catalogue all mixed up in various formats. This is seen most notably in how Slow Show is followed by the Daytrotter Session version of Lucky You, a gem off the 2003 album Sad Songs For Dirty Lovers. This is a heart wrenching, marvelously underplayed song that stands it's ground when put up against the latest work. This is then followed by a fantastic live rendition of Springsteen's Mansion On The Hill. The Boss' melancholic tone suits Berninger's style perfectly here and it's a triumph.

The album is brought to a close by two live versions of Fake Empire and About Today and unfortunately this is where the band slip up. These are two of the strongest songs on Boxer, but my criticism of their recorded versions still stands alongside the faults of their recent live show in London. With Berninger's delicate delivery and the ever richer musical waters he swims in The National's strength has alway seeped out of their restraint. On these recent live tracks the band take the songs off into all too grand territory with bloated guitar solo finale's that undermine the subtle depths previously plumbed and force the band into a genre they don't seem to belong in. It didn't work live and it doesn't work here. Still, it isn't enough to bring this generous EP down and it gives a glimpse of the talent that lies semi dormant in this group of musicians. Their albums are growing into something quite unique and their B-Sides show a cupboard full of unused masterpieces that few bands could afford to leave out.

4/5

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21st May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Black Mountain

Scala, London

May 18th, 2008

You're might be getting a bit bored of us raving about Black Mountain by now, but what can I say? With In The Future still holding it's current album of the year status for me, the band were back in the UK for the ATP festival and a European tour and I didn't want to miss them playing another smaller venue, before they certainly get bigger and bigger.

Playing a set consisting almost entirely of material from In The Future, you feel almost like you have flashed into the future yourself and are sitting at one of ATP's own Don't Look Back series - where bands perform their classic album in it's entirely. While it may have taken a couple of songs before the band really found their stride in terms of pace and power, it didn't take long and once they did they were firing on all cylinders. Never dropping a beat or letting the tension slip it's a remarkable show, best described as being run over by a freight train. In the best possible way. If you're not onboard by now, what are you waiting for?

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20th May 2008 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Bonnie 'Prince' Billy

Lie Down In The Light

Domino

We may be heading for a recession but our usual touchstones of gloom and melancholy seem hellbent on taking us in the opposite direction. David Berman's Silver Jews are due to release an unusually positive new record and here Will Oldham follows up 2006's The Letting Go with an album bathed in weary resolution and renewed warmth. Both these artists have produced some of their finest work while struggling through their darkness and likewise both seem to project their new work from a well fought point of resolved insight. But the ultimate success of these two records come from a genuine wisdom that was born out of experience and a deep searching for a truth behind this human experience. They haven't just decided to make an 'upbeat record' but have allowed this new dawn in their understanding to shine on every word they utter and though these words will always be tinged with sadness they display an outlook glistening with light.

Oldham gently counts in the record with the retrospective Easy Does It. The whole feel of this album is encapsulated in this first song as it lovingly rakes over past beliefs and viewpoints to compare them to a newly acquired calmness and strength. "There are other ways, I used to think, to find my way around, the wood and the caves and the bad woman's ways that were always to be found." The whole song shimmers with this new "One Way" that Oldham refers to as he looks around him and sees the light shine off everyday wonders like the moon, friends and family and "good, earthly music singing into my head."

This album explores every range of Olham's vocals from the joyous country lilt of Easy Does It to the intimate whisperings of What's Missing Is. Musically it's just as rich from the clipped fiddle on Glory Goes to For Every Field There's A Mole's wonderful clarinet. Oldham's delicate guitar playing dances eagerly throughout the record but is also joined by colourful touches of lap steel. Dawn McCarthy's sweet harmonies shadowed Oldham's every word in The Letting Go and the duet role falls to Ashley Webber here with some beautiful results. You Want That Picture sees them assume the part of two accusing lovers while on Other's Gain they rise in harmony to majestic grandeur. The sense of loneliness is passing from every record Oldham makes, not only due to the company he keeps on the songs but in his words that fall so precisely from his mouth. On Other's Gain he tells of the importance to "Keep your loved ones near, and let them know just where you be," while Easy Does It describes "the wood and the smell and the word of farewell that I always had to sound."

This new embrace of the world and the people around him is at the very heart of this records warmth. Instead of the forked-tongue critic lurking in the judgmental shadow of the world Lie Down In The Light displays a new found knowledge of the artists place in this life and on songs like So Everyone he aims to declare it to all in earshot. But while this might be a celebration, Katrina And The Waves it most certainly is not. Lie Down In The Light might be the antithesis both in title and tone to one of Oldham's finest albums, 1999's I See A Darkness, but it's joyousness is delivered with patience and humility like one who has seen the light but is in no hurry to explore, opting rather, to dwell there knowingly in its warmth. Like Berman, Oldham's ability to describe joy as well as pain is giving new strength to his work and is transforming him into a more well rounded song writer and as this joy has come from pain its profundity is more striking and long lasting.

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19th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

O Fracas

Fits & Starts

I Can Count Records

The words 'angular' and 'spiky' are too often touted around when describing British indie music these days and they'll be dragged out yet again when referring to this Leeds four piece and their debut album Fits & Starts. Their name refers to the creative environment under which these songs were written and recorded. "Fracas is a reference to writing songs under blazing arguments, the act of creation through force, like a Super Collider," states the band - and having gone through three different bass players during the three years this album took to make this statement doesn't seem to be a word of a lie. The album is the sum parts of three sessions recorded with each of these different line-ups which does explain the varied sounds experienced during its thirty five minutes.

Along with angular guitars, quintessentially English vocals are also an element often found on todays indie scene and this band have it all. But despite that, O Fracas dish out an exciting blend of furious arrangements, intelligent lyrics and sometimes some nice lounge piano ditties. Influences ranging from afro-beat, jazz, folk and DC Hardcore drift in and out with a wide variety of instruments providing for an eclectic listen. They seem to have two gears though, fast and slow, and rarely explore anything in between or at least these two gears in the same song. Songs like Sixteen Beats or You Can Hear The World From Menwith Hill, with their grass-roots folky humility, work far better than the more generic, guitar driven moments like What Jim Hears or Zeros And Ones. These give the album its pace and ferocity but also drag it into musical obscurity by pumping out a sound that is all too common.

O Fracas exhibit some artful ideas on this debut and the album definately gets more interesting as it progresses and as they inject their own turbulent personality into the music rather than following the well trodden indie path. Unfortunately this path shows no sign of ending or taking a turn as band after band in this country pass around the same sound and style between them, all under the guise of originality.

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15th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Adem

Takes

Domino

Adem Ilhan's 2004 debut Homesongs was a delight indeed, bristling with home-made charm and sparkling with all sorts of intimate delicacies. It was fragile and vulnerable but used enough touches of Fridge's, his former band's, eccentricities to separate it from all the other male singer-songwriters that were his contemporaries. By the time his followup, Love And Other Planets had emerged two years later the market was brimming over with such artists and for me Adem was lost in their cacophony of breathy chatter. So with this third album I was pleased to see a slightly different approach. That approach comes in the form of Takes, a collection of cover versions of songs released in the decade between 1991 - 2001, a period of great musical influence to Adem. So with this interesting slant on not only an Adem album but a covers album, coupled with the newly reformed Fridge I was expecting some sort of step away from the comfort zones this artists has resided in for too long.

Sadly I was disappointed once again. Takes starts off so well with a quietly dazzling version of Bedhead's 1992 single Bedside Table. Adem's voice is soft but confident with his hushed tones following gently alongside his delicate finger-picking and gently fuzzy backing-effects. It's one of the longer songs on the record and follows a repeated vocal pattern that takes its time to get the album started but serves as a strong introduction. PJ Harvey's Dry, from the same year, follows and keeps the standard and strength going. These versions are heavily stripped down to their bare bones but Adem retains their melody with a fuller production than his previous home recordings, playing every instrument himself.

Unfortunately Lisa Germano's Slide marks the start of the gradual slide back into Adem obscurity. Be it the choice of songs or their treatment here but throughout most of the latter part of this record Adem works as a musical Pol Pot by sweeping aside all the varied characteristics of these different songs and reducing them all to the Adem norm. For him to cover Aphex Twin seems like a task indeed but his treatment of To Cure A Weakling Child is a lesson in biting off more than you can chew. He sets himself this mammoth challenge then shys away from it by delivering yet another delicate folktronic ditty. To contrast this choice, his decision to take on Yo La Tengo's Tears Are In Your Eyes is a no brainer. A fragile song dripping in melancholy is a simple enough gig for Ilhan but I guess the real skill is how he manages to make it sound like his Aphex Twin song. That can't be easily done but he seems to pull it off time after time from here on in going through such varied source material as Smashing Pumpkins, Tortoise, The Breeders and ending with another no-brainer. Low's Laser Beam is a hollow masterpiece that simply doesn't suit this singer's voice. He screeches his way through it's empty corridors reducing it to just another slightly annoying Adem song. I applaud his choices here as they too are a collection of songs from a very informative time in my own life but his treatment and reluctance to stray from his usual blueprint level a creative decade out to simple mediocrity.

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14th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Ween

Shepherd's Bush Empire, London

May 8th, 2008

We have a lot to thank ATP for. Twice a year they ship over highly rated, under-appreciated (by us Brits at least) bands who could often not justify the air fare. Lucky for us, these bands often squeeze a few other dates in while they're in Europe - and fortunately Ween were no exception, making their first UK appearance since 2003. Billed as "An Evening with Ween", the band were scheduled to be on stage at 8pm - with no support, for a three hour set. As a longtime fan/part time believer in the cult of Ween, it was make or break time.

Shortly after 8, the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted. Shoeless and Geneless, Dean Ween took to the stage, before powering up the band with a beefed up version of Fiesta, from last year's La Cucaracha. Gene soon joined brother Dean on stage as they segued into Take Me Away - and the power and prescision of the band set things up for a night of fun, that was unfortunatley barely matched again.

Like a hilarious comedian who ruins his potentially flawless routine with constant fart jokes, the show pretty much played out like any Ween album - patchy as hell. Unfortunatley, a live show lacks the one essential item for making any Ween album bearable - the skip button. For every chunky verion of Bananas and Blow, I'll Be Your Johnny On The Spot or Voodoo Lady there was an over-extended labrious wander through many others from their vast catalogue. Sound problems didn't help, with Thin Lizzy-esque power anthem Gabrielle amongst many tracks drowned in the poor sound, which managed to muffle even the drums and treble.

Many of my own favourites were left out (where were Stay Forever, What Deaner Was Talkin' About, Did You See Me?, If You Could Save Yourself and It's Gonna Be A Long Night?), possibly because it turned out it wasn't such a long night after all - a mere two and a half hours - and if they'd cut out the brown noise that made up most of the show we could have been going home after around 45 minutes.

Criticisms aside, I certainly feel like I have the minority opinion here - with most of the packed out crowd having the time of their lives. Beer bust at the Empire! For me, the dream is over. At best they're like Zappa, at worst it's like watching a pub band rehearse their latest wacky Barbara Steisand cover - complete with National Anthem Guitar Solo. I have seen an alternate reality where Tenacious D are leading the world in musical experimenation and it scared me.

I feel like I've escaped from a cult and while I feel an occasional nostalgia for the fellow moonies I left behind, it sure feels good. For now.

Check out more photos over at our Flickr page.

Watch videos from the show at DrDamage73's YouTube page.

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13th May 2008 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Last Shadow Puppets

The Age of the Understatement

Domino

Recalling the likes of Scott Walker and Phil Spector, The Last Shadow Puppets are a side project from chief Arctic Monkey Alex Turner and Miles Kane of lesser-known Wirral locals The Rascals. Simian Mobile Disco's James Ford plays drums as well as reprising the production role he took on last year's Favourite Worst Nightmare.

Inspired by that late 50's / early 60's sound, the band employ lavish strings, rich melodies and a sweeping grandeur that places them well away from the Arctic Monkeys' spikey, contemporary sound. Off to a flying start, the title track sets up the scenario - with Turner and Kane's harmonious vocals galloping along to the accompanyment of furious strings. Lyrically less of a first-person affair than the Monkeys, steering away from the minutiae of teenage life in Sheffield for a more subtle style of big screen story-telling. There's still room for Rock amongst all this orchestration however and many songs recall the early electric era of 7" singles - barely topping 3 minutes on most tracks. Highlights like Standing Next To Me and Only The Truth sum the approach up perfectly, doing away with long intros and getting straight to the full-blown matter at hand.

It's a fun listen, but at the end of the day it's a concept stretched a little too far. The similarity between Turner and Kane's voices does little to add much distinction between tracks and while it's by no means an offensive listen I just find my attention drifting towards the end. Finale The Time Has Come Again brings things back into focus however, with a suitably sweeping climax as the soft acoustic intro is embellished by the twin vocals and a rising orchestral arrangement.

In an age of mega marketing and struggling record sales, Turner has maintained steadfast integrity, shirking the expected mainstream and sticking to his guns. This is an unusual release, but one that is strong, original and superbly produced. A far cry from the Hoxton infested lo-fi 80s revivalist output that a lot of hyped bands seem to be trying for these days.

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8th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Tapes 'n' Tapes

Walk It Off

XL Recordings

Like Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, the success story of Tapes 'N Tapes was born amidst the constant hum of the blogosphere. Their 2006 debut The Loon came out to rapturous praise with its infectious pop hooks and set up quite some expectation for their next move. CYHSY's answer to this expectation was with two fingers as they delivered Some Loud Thunder, a difficult and curious followup that stubbornly refused to accommodate the strengths that may have arisen from their debut. By hiring the producer of Some Loud Thunder, Dave Fridmann, TnT seem to be only too aware of these comparisons and though the result is not the same they too have delivered a curious sophomore effort.

From the outset it's clear this Minneapolis 4 piece intend to raise the stakes as Le Ruse screeches in to view and Josh Grier's vocals ride a wave of crashing cymbals and calamitous riffs. The increased might in the music and venom in the vocal delivery is an instant plus point but all this is shrouded in a curious muffled production that you instantly start to doubt your equipment. The opening track on Some Loud Thunder had me perplexed in the same way to the point where I now find it unlistenable. Headshock shows the same underproduction with the bass line that thunders at the chorus threatening to obliterate any recognition that might have come with the melody. Blunt does the same thing as it builds to a deafening concoction of drums and driving guitars and as you strain to hear the rumbling bass line your patience starts to fray.

Though this lo-fi quality lurks in pretty much every corner of this record the more melodic numbers manage to escape its blight. The slow-to-build Time Of Songs chimes with a wonderful clarity with Grier's melancholic mumble "I'll pull you from the bottom and i'll leave you on the floor." Say Back Something is a welcome break with it's down-tempo strums while Lines shuffles along at an uncharacteristically lazy pace until the military rhythm and taught guitars start to build to Grier's repeated vocal, "Over lines." This song sees an intelligent structure that is sometimes lacking in other songs like the slightly limp wristed Anvil.

But pretentious production aside, two of the strongest tracks on the record come in the form of Hang Then All and the album closer The Dirty Dirty. Hang Them All shows this bands ability to deliver a hook. It's a tense whirlwind of a song full of swirling organ and clipped, punchy guitars. As is often the case in this record Grier's tight lipped vocals build things to a head with the rousing, repeated chorus bringing the song to a rapturous close. Walk It Off is an exciting run and no matter how trying the going is you'll be glad you stuck it out when you get to The Dirty Dirty. It's the longest song on the album and it takes this band into new territory. Rumbling guitars and relentless drums give it a steady, driving pace which never lets up. Grier's vocals are deadpan and refuse to rise above the tone set by the rhythm. The song actually goes nowhere and continues at this formation until eventually fading out making it a questionable choice for the final track, but as questions were heavily on the agenda from the start here it seems a fitting way to finish.

The introduction of pillar after pillar of load-bearing riffs makes this follow-up a brave step forward. It's not breaking down any new musical frontiers but expands on the strengths of their debut nicely ...but just as I start to get excited about it the question of production undoes it's trousers and urinates on my fire. Bands like The Wedding Present recorded some of their best works with obvious production deficiencies but now that technology has improved their sound has benefitted enormously. As with CYHSY, this band have everything at their fingertips and with such credits as Mogwai and Mercury Rev to his name, Dave Fridmann is a master of his craft - so the insistence on this lo-fi style smacks of pretension and ultimately drags this otherwise promising and gutsy record down.

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7th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Times New Viking

Rip It Off

Matador Records

There's lo-fi, and then there's TNV. I can't see the point, really. There might be some good tunes buried in this collection somewhere, but who's to say? I simply can't get past the TRULY APPALLING sound. The way I understand it, lo-fi is more of a musical ethic rather than a description of sonic qualities, but in the case of TNV it's taken much more as a literal way of life.

It's like being played a demo recorded on a cassette tape by someone who didn't know how to set the input levels. The entire signal is broken up and overloaded across the whole mix, thereby reducing the definition of any single instrument - you can't hear any bass frequencies for example. It's like being shouted at for half an hour, or played a sex pistols bootleg down a bad phone line. So much so, in fact, that it's just too wearing to pay close attention to. I don't want to have to wade through a river or crackle to reach the music, after all, it's supposed to be about the songs isn't it?

Perhaps TNV would be pleased to hear me say all this - yeah! Punk Rock! You know, if this stupid reviewer can't be bothered to extract the tunes, then he's missing the point and we don't want him as a fan. Well, if that's the case then fair enough. But folks, since someone's gone to all the trouble of releasing this record it might have been better to put something out that people might want to listen to more than once. Any chance of remixing it a bit cleaner...?

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#HarrisPilton

6th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Dead Child

Attack

Touch & Go

Dead Child is a side-project for renowned post-rock guitarist Dave Pajo - formerly of Slint and occasional member of Tortoise. I've always rated Pajo ; I think his playing puts him in the league of great American left-field guitarists such as Marc Ribot or Bill Frisell, and so I was intrigued to hear this record since it's being touted as Pajo's hommage to the music of his youth - Heavy Metal. Now, I like chunky rock. I'm a sucker for an overdriven guitar playing choppy riffs and squalling lead breaks, and that's a pretty good prospect in the hands of someone like Pajo, and on this front the record really delivers. Great tight production, with drums bass and guitar providing a high-energy modern sound and riffs as tight as Fu Manchu. However...

In paying hommage to Metal, the band has chosen to utilise the vocal skills of Dahm (Phantom Family Halo) and this is where things take a turn for the worse. The problem is that Dahm's vocal style and comic-book lyrics are just plain corny. The words are a collection of schoolboy metal cliches presented in stock rhyming-couplet pairs, and his vocal delivery sounds like it's all a big joke - I'm reminded of Electric Six . This works against the strong backing tracks; it's a gourmet meal smothered in ketchup, an Aston Martin with fluffy dice. The overall effect is that the music and the vocals are almost at odds with each other. Perhaps that was deliberate, but it's as if Dead Child can't decide whether they are serious or not. Sadly, "not" wins.

In fact, so horrible are the vocals that it puts me off listening to what could have been a great record. I appreciate the fact that it's hard to be original in the world of metal vocals, but even the throat-rasping cookie-monster stylings of grindcore would be preferable to this. A great set of tunes reduced to dismissable nonsense.

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30th Apr 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Tindersticks

The Hungry Saw

Beggars

With no sign of a new album in several years, Tindersticks' one-off show at the Barbican in 2006 seemed likely to be their last outing together, serving as an acknowledgement that they were over. Perhaps Stuart A. Staples underwhelming solo releases have changed their minds, but from out of the blue a new album has arrived, featuring a stripped down line up but all the hallmarks of the old band.

It seems like longer than four years since they most recently hit the highs of Whiskey & Water, A Night In, or Travelling Light - and I'm happy to admit that I was not holding out much hope for this one. While they may have done nothing wrong, I grew tired of the Tindersticks - perhaps overloading on their various non-album releases, such as their mostly instrumental soundtracks and sprawling re-releases. On the first listen some of The Hungry Saw may seem pretty average, lacking much of the bombastic flourishes that elevate their best work, but after a little wearing-in, this album really starts to flourish - revealing many of the band signature flourishes.

Like a slumbering giant, gently waking from a cider soaked evening, Intro plays out like the soundtrack to some expressive dance, as one by one the instruments awake and the Tindertsicks welcome us back into their open arms. With the giant awakened, the band fire up the old charm and we're instantly back at their best with Yesterday Tomorrows. There's a soundtrack vibe to many songs on this very visual album - with extended passages of music often leading into, or in some case replacing the lyrics. Having a full band behind him seems to have filled in the gaps that peppered Staples' solo albums.

Single The Flicker Of A Little Girl, is illustrative of the album, but it's deceptivly upbeat - and it's the more epic songs like The Other Side Of The World and the oustanding Boobar that stand this record up with the bands best work. Melancholic. Uplifting. Soulful. Nostalgic. Over-the-top. Understated. All the best ingredients for classic Tindersticks. The only thing missing could be a Whiskey chaser to wash it all down.

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#CSF

28th Apr 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Oxford Collapse

The Windmill, Brixton, London

Looking around the empty pub it seemed unlikely that Brooklyn rockers Oxford Collapse would be the skinny-jeaned, curly haired chap, or that head-banded trendy in the corner. Of course not. These guys had graduated from the US school of indie rock and had the tattoos and beards to prove it.

The half-empty venue did nothing to dissuade the band from kicking out 'all the hits,' as smart mouthed, charismatic front man Michael Pace led them through the best of last years Remember The Night Parties - with Lady Lawyers, In Your Volcano and Kenny Can't Afford It amongst the songs getting enthusiastic renditions, complete with guitar heroism from Pace and bassist Adam Rizer.

The Boys Go Home from A Good Ground was also dusted off, as well as previews of several tracks from forthcoming album Bits. The sound might have sucked, and the under-informed crowds of London may have missed out, but the band have certainly nabbed themselves a spot in my list of most anticipated releases for 2008.

"This is a blues riff in B, watch me for the changes and try and keep up." Once that cymbal is fixed of course.

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26th Apr 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Animal Collective

Water Curses

Domino

Having anticipated and enjoyed every new release from Sung Tongs onwards, I was surprised to find myself a little less than enthusiastic at a brand new EP from the Animal Collective. The possible reason for my slight reservation towards new material from what I deem to be currently one of the most interesting and baffling bands is too much too soon.

Water Curses consists of four songs, three of which are the remains from the Strawberry Jam sessions and one new track. Not sure which is which but they do vary in tone and texture as is often the case but what struck me is how consistently enjoyable these songs are. Nothing here is a great departure from their recent back catalogue, but no matter how highly I rate Animal Collective it is often a laborious process to get from the start of an album to the finish. Regardless of the need for patience I always feel rewarded for the effort. It certainly took a lot less time to appreciate the four tracks here and they even had me humming one of the many melodies that swirl in out from the first listen.

The title track Water Curses is the first and most accessible track, it is a short and sweet song gently sang with no vocal extremities to deter the casual listener. The customary noises are there but restrained by the strong melody, it is only the high pitched mock organ that adds the expected twist. The following songs do demand more attention but benefit from a contrasting tone, as they fleet and float in their awkward structures.

Given it is an EP, which I often associate as filler between more significant releases, this does stand head and shoulders as the best form of introduction to this eclectic band. This is partly down to having only four tracks, which is just enough not be annoyed by their originality but to appreciate it.

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25th Apr 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Birds of Avalon

Bazaar Bazaar

Volcom

There's a lot of unapologetic music being made recently and the debut album from Birds Of Avalon has to top the lot. It would be a fun experiment to wire a music reviewer up to some high voltage and tell him to describe Bazaar Bazaar to someone who hasn't heard it - the catch being that if he mentions any other rock band in his description he gets zapped. It would be a pretty tough gig as this band reference just about every 1970's rock heavy-weight that's ever picked up a plectrum and that's just in the first song.

But that's not to say this isn't a good listen. Their lack of apology doesn't come across as tongue-in-cheek like The Darkness and their grasp of the genre may be obvious but it's a firm one and is delivered with all the might and sincerity of their mentors. They demand an open mind from their listeners by their title alone. Birds Of Avalon conjure up disastrous Spinal Tap visions, some very small Stone Henges and the sickly smell of patchouli oil - so from the opening chords of the equally questionable titled Bicentennial Baby you are pleasantly surprised. Craig Tilly's vocals instantly recall Black Sabbath or early Cheap Trick and as that recollection never leaves your side the album powers on through the Pink Floyd keyboards of Instant Coma, the Led Zeppelin psychedelia of Wanderlust and the shamelessly Steely Dan intro of Superpower. Chuck in two scoops of Hawkwind, a soupcon of Peter Frampton, eight heaped table spoons of Thin Lizzy and you've got yourself a tasty little rock cake.

When forming an opinion about Bazaar Bazaar one is presented with a quandary indeed. This is a very enjoyable listen. The riffs are tough, the drums are as furious as you'd want them to be and Tilly's vocals are as soaring, pretentious and vague as you would expect, BUT, the fact that it's all so regressive casts a major shadow over the whole thing. I don't need every album I listen to to reinvent the wheel but this is taking it a bit far. It's obviously aimed at fans of this genre and yet it's references will be sniffed out in an instant and like a bleeding limb in a shark pool will attract criticism from far and wide. But then again, maybe I'm giving this way too much thought. Though this is pretty much the sum of it's references it still rocks in all the right places when turned up to eleven.

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24th Apr 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Bon Iver

For Emma, Forever Ago

4AD

Imagine you're in a public place, say a train station or doctors waiting room, and you can see this person going round gently and methodically whispering in peoples ears. You notice the look on these people's faces change slowly from one of skepticism to one of wonder and delight. You'd really want to know what this person was whispering right? Well as soon as the opening notes of For Emma, Forever Ago come to rest gracefully on your ears you'll realise what everyone else was hearing and your face will too be full of wonder.

Bon Iver (an intentional mis-spelling of 'Bon Hiver,' french for 'Good Winter,') is the work of Justin Vernon and his debut album is a very special thing indeed. It's one of the most beautiful sounds I've heard in a long time and its conception came about under fiercely controlled circumstances and time scale. After the break-up of his former band, DeYarmond Edison in 2006, Vernon opted out of society and took himself off into voluntary exile. Armed with only a couple of microphones, a baritone guitar, two drums, a horn and a reverb pedal he set off for the desolate landscape of Northeast Wisconsin and spent three months alone in a log cabin. Living off the land and hunting for food Vernon was able to shut himself away from the usual chatter of the world and allow an inner voice to emerge in his work. "I recognise that the record is enigmatic and special in a strange way. I can't take full credit for it, and I was the only one there." With no firm musical objective and the basic pressures of survival to worry about these songs grew organically and were governed purely by the natural artistic process that can only flourish under these circumstances. "I was able to access deeper, darker and even happier shit just by this sort of subconscious way of doing it."

Knowing this back story is not necessary, but it adds to the uniqueness of this record. Each song reflects the barren land in which it was born, as shiver and shudder under the clear sub-zero sky, with Vernon's spectral falsetto delivery trembling delicately like the frail trees that sway in the wind outside his window. But the glow of honesty and dedication burns with the comforting warmth of the log fire that crackles within, making this record endlessly captivating and welcoming. A bleak and lonely guitar strum opens the record, with Vernon's vocals tentatively creeping into view, but it's not long before they gently swell with an increased musical accompaniment like a rising flame. "I am my mother's only one, it's enough," is the line chosen to open this record and with it we see Vernon's thoughts turn inwards to memory as if forced by the elements outside. Lump Sum produces a choral arrangement so spacious it suggests a relationship between the empty space outside and the cavernous boom of a mind devoid of worldly noise. Skinny Love sees a rising of tempo and a new gravel sound creep into the voice as it gets louder. As if by way of response to the deafening silence that prevails, Vernon's words "I told you to be patient, I told you to be fine," lift with striking force but stand ambiguous to their target, a past love or Vernon himself?

There was some degree of post production added to the record once the exile ended, with instrumental accompaniments added by Chrissy Smith of Nola on Flume and Boston musicians John DeHaven and Randy Pingrey supplying horns on For Emma. Vernon achieved the choral sound, seen to great effect on The Wolves, by countless overdubs of his own voice. The subtle addition of these third parties and overdubs work in contrast to Vernon's solitary voice, making an interesting mark on the album's atmosphere. Instead of shattering the illusion of confined spaces this only serves to enhance the loneliness, with these added elements circling the central sound like ghosts of past regret rising to the surface of the memory. For Emma is the penultimate song and the inclusion of the horn section is so startling it brings with it a sense of the regret lifting and some conclusion being reached to the questions that have encircled us throughout. It's presence here is like a brief sighting of human company in this desolation and it swells the heart to triumphant heights. But as the achingly beautiful Re: Stacks fades in, the cold and loneliness encroach once more and you wonder if this sighting was only in your mind.

Re: Stacks brings the record full circle and tapers it off with delicate melody, gentle, resolved guitar strums and the sweetest vocals on the record. It leaves you with quiet resolution and the silence that reigns after the song is finished is all the richer for the sounds that have proceeded it. In this silence you beg the world to give you just a little more time, but slowly and surely it crashes in and the spell is broken - until of course you press play again.

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21st Apr 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet