Chimpomatic

Yeasayer

All Hour Cymbals

Now We Are Free

In a fair and just world every part of me should be repelled by this New York 4 piece when the slightest scratch at the surface reveals such facts as: 2 of the founding members met in a barbershop quartet, the other one quit his rock opera to join the band, they describe themselves as World Music. If any one is still reading may I say that this is by no means a fair and just world and the Yeasayer's debut album is actually quite good.

All the facts stated above are certainly cringe worthy but can't be ignored and the bands success is very much due to these contributing factors rather than despite them. The fact that they hail from New York and from punk roots ultimately saves them from descending into the world music pit of obscurity that only spits out an act every now and again into the corner of Jools Holland's Later... stage. They construct complicated and chaotic arrangements using everything from tribal drums, cascading synths, soaring chanted harmonies and rhythmic guitars.

All Hour Cymbals took some time to make though the band have been playing for many years now. They feel their decision to release their work to the world has come in the wake of a resurgence in awareness of non-Strokes sounding music in New York and with bands like Beirut making serious waves worldwide the ground has never been richer. 2080 is the debut single and is the central song on the album with its Fleetwood Mac infused vocals. Their website claims "In 2080 the only thing that will save us from terror is enlightenment." This is a grand and admirable statement and sums up the concerns of the band.

Unfortunately the music sometimes fails to live up to such moral intentions. The mid way song No Need To Worry sends the album into confusing territory as it ambles along with no clear direction. This song alone starts to try our patience with the soaring, layered harmonies and it takes a while for the album to regain our focus. The ominous pound of Waiting For Wintertime goes some of the way but the record trails off into a murky concoction of indecipherable and repeated vocals and music that offers little in the way of direction.

This second half of the record is a shame as the first is so surprising. This band offer a refreshing blend of cultures but don't get the mix quite right first time. It is clear that they possess a rare commodity in indie music these days and that is open mindedness. It's hard to say where this band will take their sound next but they will be worth keeping an eye on.

#Music
#BC

21st Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Film School

Hideout

Beggars

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

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

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

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

#Music
#CSF

5th Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Murcof

Cosmos

Leaf

Music is more often than not, an accompaniment to life rather than life itself. Unlike cinema, music is rarely given our full attention and is what we enjoy while doing something else. Putting your foot down on the open road is made all the more special with Free Bird in your ears or making sweet love to a beautiful woman is made even sweeter if you stick on the new Jamie Foxx LP, but I can't think of a single thing that would or should accompany anything by the mexican electronic maestro Murcof. His work is so subtle that even breathing would serve as a distraction. Since his debut master stroke Martes, Fernando Corona has painstakingly crafted the most emotive and complex electronic constructions and with this his 3rd record he still seems to stand alone in his field.

Less is more with this guy as he erects vast, cavernous soundscapes that surround and envelope you. The infinite emptiness of his sound becomes your world and then, as he drops a pin close to your ear, all your senses stand to attention and you enter a whole new listening experience. He nurtures his rhythms out of the slightest and most delicate sounds, the crackle of vinyl seems like background warmth but soon evolves into beat, accompanied by feint bleeps it tip toes over broad swathes of strings and deep blue percussion. Martes was his masterpiece indeed - a near perfect album it was like listening to the purest maths. It featured expertly sampled classical arrangements that were refracted and sliced with stunning accuracy. The follow up, Rememberanza, was a similar affair. Textural groundwork was painstakingly laid out before us as almost non existent beats were coaxed from what sounded like an orchestra of marching insects. The difference here was the minimal dependance on sampled music as Fernando Corona composed his own string arrangements and the same is seen here on his latest composition Cosmos.

With the opening Cuero Celeste and the following Cielo we see things continue on from where Corona left us 5 years ago. But then with Cosmos 1 things take a drastic turn and Murcof never looks back again. His work has always claimed to describe the physical landscape of his homeland Mexico but from this point on it's clear that a grander intention is being adopted. As the beats fade away in favour of brooding strings the listener takes a gulp as a sound so awesome rises from the dust. This is no longer the depiction of rolling Mexican vistas but the soundtrack to the birth of planets. At an average running time of 9 minutes each the next 4 tracks evolve slowly but surely into compositions of such magnitude that if you've taken my earlier advice of giving this your undivided attention you may want to be careful that you're not buried under this ever rising mass.

It's a daring and focused departure for this musician. He is definitely a man with his eye on his art and this is another uncompromising album. His recent work with film scores is showing its worth here as he moves his music way beyond mere songs into something more ethereal. Since 2004's Utopia EP this was always the direction Corona was heading and Cosmos is an impressive end result but in this grandeur I can't help longing for the delicate crackle of his insect orchestra from days of old and Cosmos does away with this all too swiftly for my liking as if the artist can't wait to move on to bigger plains. You can hardly criticize a musician for this but his earlier sound was so special this new world will take a lot of getting used to.

#Music
#BC

2nd Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Radiohead

In Rainbows

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- LG - 5 Stars

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

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

£3 and 3.5 stars - CJ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#Chimpomatic

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

Well Deep - Ten Years Of Big Dada Recordings

Various Artists

Big Dada

To celebrate the 10th anniversary of this truly unique label they choose to shower us in gifts, I wish every birthday was like this - except mine of course. As a mark of this grand occasion those kind people at Big Dada have released an awesome double CD, a DVD and a special anniversary party.

I don't think there exists a label that is so trustworthy that you could buy any record it released in the safe knowledge that you'll love it, but for years I've been buying Big Dada releases knowing that I may not like it but it won't be anything to do with quality. The label has proved itself time and time again for an undying commitment to challenging and innovative music and the hip hop genre has been draped loosely around its neck but has never weighed down its steady upward progression. Label boss Will Ashton wanted to form a label that ran alongside yet independent of the mothership Ninja Tune label and would provide a home to hip hop misfits and pioneers.

Never describing themselves as a UK hip hop label, Will Ashton prefers to see it as simply "a hip hop label based in London" and with artists from the US and France on their books Big Dada must be one of the most international hip hop labels around today, and in this fact lies Ashton's most significant achievement. He has certainly championed some of the most successful UK artists like Roots Manuva, Willy, TY etc. but he has stripped them of their laborious 'UK' title and brought everything down to Hip Hop.

The CD is less of a 'best of' and more of an overview of the labels history and philosophy and it's only when this back catalogue is put together in this context that you start to get a clear picture of just how special Big Dada is. It is truly innovative but certain artists carry this flag more than others and any label boasting releases from cLOUDDEAD, New Flesh, Mike Ladd and TTC can't help to be slightly left of centre. Even from the title it's clear that Roots Manuva is the jewel in the crown of Big Dada and rightly so. I have always considered his debut Brand New Secondhand to be his finest work, but when you put them all together and drop in the flagship song Witness (1 Hope) he really is quite impressive. Mike Ladd's many incarnations keep things interesting and if things were getting a little too hip hop there's plenty of curve balls from TTC, Busdriver and newest signing Spank Rock to mix things up. What other label would put together the smooth storytelling of TY with the low down Grime of Willy? Though not particularly well represented here cLOUDDEAD really stand out from anyone and before their demise they single handedly took this label to places no other artist could go. Wherever they resided this band acted as a simmering cluster bomb blowing apart any preconceptions of genre that a label may have possessed and it took real vision to include them in the early days of this label.

Which leads me on to the DVD. Apart from the Big Dada documentary, this DVD is really about the videos. It has something like 35 videos here which must be everything that's been made. There's an impressive megamix option or you can play each video through one by one or you can set it to random so if your tv's got good enough sound this would make an awesome video juke box. Just stick it on and go about your business but you'd get snarled up on the lengthy cLOUDDEAD tour footage which is so compelling it demands your full attention. Videos from New Flesh and the crazy world of TTC are a treat, but as usual Roots Manuva steels the show with his return to his former primary school for sports day in the Witness video.

All in all this is a wonderful package indeed, and I'm not talking about Roots Manuva in his leotard. It's a great celebration of ten years of forward thinking - and for any fledgling hip hop mavericks with wild ambitions, while Big Dada is around the world must seem like a much more welcoming place.

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#HHG

12th Oct 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Iron & Wine

The Shepherd's Dog

Sub Pop

The wind of change rarely blows through the lonely, mid-west town of Iron & Wine and when it does it's a soft, gentle breeze that leaves as quickly and as quietly as it approached. This has never been a bad thing as there has always been more than enough warmth to feed off in this barren land. But with The Shepherd's Dog the wind is picking up, ever so slightly, and as it passes through it leaves behind a renewed freshness. Following on from 2004's Our Endless Numbered Days and the fantastic Woman King EP in 2005, The Shepherd's Dog is the third full length and it's their best yet.

Sam Beams first two albums have been musically pretty stark often featuring his whispered vocals over delicate finger picking resulting in miles upon miles of intriguing yet desolate land, but after the hugely successful collaborative mini album with Calexico, In The Reins, and the subsequent tour, Beam's sound has progressed into Technicolor with a full band arrangement providing welcome sustenance to his flawless songwriting.

The sparse landscape from which this band has coaxed some of the most heart-aching sounds of recent times is looking more lush than ever here and is certainly starting to bear fruit. Beams vocals are as breathy and soft as ever but the instrumentation that accompanies his tales is dripping with texture and the sheer variety of tools, from lap steel to washes of strings, provides a richness not seen before. Beams vocals maintain their fragile characteristics but seem to contract to intimate closeness then expand to great washes of tone allowing the progressive musical arrangements to take the foreground.

The album is meticulously structured with each song flowing seamlessly into the other. Carousel is the musical equivalent of a babbling brook gently flowing through rocky land as Beams vocals, drenched in effects, trickle softly over delicately plucked guitar. Then as if a damn had broken its banks way up stream the river starts to pour forth with growing pace as we move into one of the albums many highlights House By The Sea. Deep bass and intricate guitar provide the complex backdrop for Beam and sister to harmonize. Innocent Blues shuffles along at a blissfully lazy pace with some unexpected banjo brilliance looming to the forefront which bleeds in to the reggae infused Wolves (Song Of The Shepherd's Dog). This acts as the centre piece to the album. At nearly 5 minutes in length it too shuffles into view with effortless simplicity and mid way through takes a short breather before launching into a glorious instrumental home straight. It's richness in sound is almost too much to fathom and marks a definite turning point for this band.

And the same can be said for the record as a whole. It maintains a firm link to the albums of the past with their soft and often bleak outlook but punctuates this with innovative musical arrangements that have their view firmly set on the road ahead. Resurrection Fern has Beams voice sounding so smoother than ever and the fragile steel guitar that soars behind it is simply glorious. The albums structure delivers its final genius blow on the closing track. Flightless Bird, American Mouth has a devastating air of conclusion and is a perfect way to end this record. It begins as fragile as a newly hatched bird then slowly takes flight and off it soars on a soft breeze of sadness and finality. It takes a few plays for this album to seep in but when it does you wont want to stray too far from its warmth.

#Music
#BC

30th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Jon Spencer Blues Explosion

Jukebox Explosion (Rocking? Mid-90s Punkers!)

If you're going to call your band the Blues Explosion, you'd better be sure about at least two things. Firstly, that your music sounds like the detonation of a rockabilly cluster-bomb, and secondly that a sizeable chunk of the record buying public will be put-off by the word "blues" in your band name. Here in the UK "the blues" has more than a whiff of embarrassing uncle about it - a hark back to the old days rather than looking forward to the new ones.

But then, running a blues band, or any band which declares retro intentions, must be tough - it's hard to be cool without being cod. Well, JSBX managed to sidestep that by taking the punk (or post-punk) ethos and applying it to the music of 50's rebel rockers. It's a natural fit, and one that you hope ends up being closer in spirit to the original music as a result.  Maybe this is what Gene Vincent would have really sounded like if you'd been there at the time - but I doubt it. It's the kind of sideways look at a beloved music that very few artists get away with (Beefheart, Defunkt) and you can see right away why Beck and the Beastie Boys rate this band so highly.

This is a shit-kicking compilation with a good selection from the raw Shirt Jac to the pop sense of Do You Wanna Get It - taking in the angular funk of Push Some Air and the creeping theramin bass of Jailhouse Blues along the way. If you're unfamiliar with the Blues Explosion, be prepared for a mixture of production values, sonic textures and mangled vocals. If you want a starting place, check out Ghetto Mom and proceed with reckless abandon.

#Music
#HarrisPilton

24th Sep 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Siouxsie Sioux

Mantaray

Universal

From her early days as a groupie for the Sex Pistols - and the catalyst for the Bill Grundy TV meltdown - Siouxsie Sioux (and the Banshees or course) went on to become one of the most influential bands of the punk/post-punk era - cited as a major influence on bands from The Cure (Robert Smith played guitar with the Banshees for a bit) right up to LCD Soundsystem, who covered Slowdive in 2006.

Siouxsie herself went on to have success with The Creatures and in various other guises, and while this first solo album is being billed as a comeback, a quick look through the files suggests it's just getting a bigger marketing push than some of the other late-period entries.

After a fairly average start things pick up with Here Comes That Day,  but with the 'spooky' atmosphere of Loveless or the 'moody' delivery of If It Doesn't Kill You, the song writing offers very little of note - with Siouxsie's strong voice seeming dated and more suited to the stage, projecting literal narrative lyrics up to the seats at the back.

Drone Zone is one of the most aptly titled songs I have heard in a while, and no, the title's not ironic. They Follow You provides a brief glimmer of light, with a nice extended instrumental intro although that is quickly overshadowed by the album's low point - Heaven and Alchemy. The title says it all.

While some of the songs on the album sound updated in some ways, they sound incredibly out of touch and tired in others - making this an unfortunately forgettable album.

#Music
#CSF

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

Aesop Rock

None Shall Pass

Def Jux

It's not often that I can start a review of a record by an underground hip hop artist and thank one of the biggest corporate giants of our time for providing us with the only taste of this guy since 2003 - but if it wasn't for Nike commissioning Aesop Rock for its inspired series of jogging tracks our hungry ears would have had very little to feast upon since the triumphant Bazooka Tooth. And Nike's interest is the result of a steady rise in the shares of this Long Island born MC/producer since his first album for Def Jux Labor Days, what some regard as his finest stroke. So None Shall Pass, his fifth proper full length has been long in the making and much anticipated by any hip hop head with a brain.

Aesop Rock is a rare commodity indeed these days, an artist who is truly pushing the envelope and who, if you're into him, has never put a foot wrong and is pretty much guaranteed not to. Some criticised the Nike piece, but for the purpose it was made to serve it did the job and though it was stripped of the free flowing lyrics I can imagine it would be good to jog to if I could ever get out of this chair. So with None Shall Pass we get our guy back where we want him and with production duties shared between Aesop himself, Blockhead and El-P the result is little short of dazzling.

Things have changed since his last record and though this is still unmistakably Def Jux much of the production has been simplified and the claustrophobic machine-beats are played down in favor of more linear, live sounding instrumentation. This leaves space for Aesop's fables, and though this has always been his strength they seem to rise to the top here and it's damn near impossible to keep up. There's no dick-swinging bravado with this guy, just complex stories bursting with mind boggling imagery and all told with lyrical dexterity that defies belief.

With the title track Aesop provides us with one of the easiest entry points to his sound in a long time (Nike discounted) It's built around a pretty straightforward beat and melodic loop and with Aesop's lyrics it rolls along relentlessly. As is often the case your ears try desperately to keep up with this lyrical pace as juicy nuggets of the English language are dropped teasingly close to our understanding but as soon as we've stopped to gather them up Aesop's way ahead. I mean when the opening lyric is "Flash that buttery gold, jittery zeitgeist wither by the watering hole, what a patrol, what are we to heart huckabee art fuckery suddenly?" How are we expected not to feast on this. Unlike militant label mates El-P or Cannibal Ox, Aesop Rock often appears to take a different route but on closer inspection lyrics like "sign of the swine in the swarm when a king is a whore who comply and conform, miles outside of the eye of the storm" he shows a clear opinion of the current state of our world.

Bring Back Pluto encompasses this albums best assets. It has a plodding and delicate bongo beat that is still bass heavy enough to comfortably float the words to the surface. As does the awesome Fumes. The pace here is recreational compared to this guys previous work but as always vast swathes of texture are lurking in the background and at the half way point these textures cleverly manage to flip the beat around to a momentary quickening of speed without you even noticing.

But as much as I enjoy and appreciate this sunday stroll pace it sure is good to get moments like Citronella where the Jux machine starts grinding out stomping, gut-wrenching bass and wooly, static-frothed beats. This is brought to a climax on Gun For The Whole Family. Any album on this label wouldn't be complete without the whole Jux family getting involved and with previous songs featuring the familiar sounds of Cage and Mr. Lif it's here that label boss El-P weighs in and interestingly it's the erratic apocalyptic beat that suits El-P's frenzied style more than Aesop Rock's and it's really the bosses moment and not Aesop's.

The last track Coffee is a real departure for Aesop Rock. The beat is backed by distant vocal harmonies but then as if out of nowhere we get singing, yes, singing, and it's not just any singing, it's John Darnielle from The Mountain Goats. It would be hard to predict such a partnership but since moving to San Francisco these two artists have been collaborating and this is the first glimpse of the fruits - and it's fantastic. It also shows the kind of creative mind we are dealing with here. None Shall Pass is a hip hop record and never claims to be otherwise. It's full of deep beats, cuts and scratches and everything you'd want from a hip hop record but oh so much more. If you can decipher it you'll see a whole host of source points that go way beyond this genre. It's like reading a Kerouac novel at double speed, actually it's like reading a vast collection of short stories with no punctuation. It's a turbulent sea of words that stretches on for miles and you know that if you dive in you'll get embroiled in a whole torrent of forked-tongued, whiplash trouble but you do it all the same. After all these opportunities don't come around all that often so you'd be a fool not to.

#Music
#HHG

28th Aug 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Devastations

Yes, U

Beggars

Devastations are three Berlin based Australians whose last album, “Coal”, was well received far and wide. Now they’re back with their third full length offering - “YES, U”.
 
The album is a sparse, sinister affair full of dark corners and bad moods. Vocalist/bassist Conrad Standish, guitarist/vocalist Tom Carlyon, and drummer Hugo Cran prove skilful in building up moody and broody songs, all the while maintaining an intensity without it ever boiling over – I refer the reader to exhibits a and b: “The Saddest Sound” and “The Pest”.
 
The best bits are when they layer on feedback and white noise over their slow beats and drawled vocals - such as on ‘Oh My, Oh Me’ and ‘Misericordia’. However, I’ll have to confess that I lost interest on a couple of numbers when they take us back to the 80s with some slowed down bontempi organ beats (‘Black Ice’ and ‘As Sparks Fly Upwards’).
 
There are obvious comparisons that can be made with Nick Cave, which is no bad thing. I saw a live performance from the big man a couple years back. He blew me away with a depth and intensity that’s never seemed captured on the recordings I’ve heard. I’ve a feeling the same might be said for the Devastations.
 
While not suited to all moods or occasions (I’m thinking family parties, sunny days or gittin’ it on with a lover), on the whole this is a good album that’s a bit of a ‘grower’ (if you know what I mean, which I’m sure you all do).

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#Locochimpo

23rd Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

2 Days In Paris

(dir. Julie Delpy)

More Parisian walking and talking from Julie Delpy in a lowkey romcom that mines similar territory to Richard Linklater's Before Sunset/Sunrise diptych.

Adam Goldberg (who's got a great cameo in Entourage season 3.2) takes over from Ethan Hawke on American dude in Europe duties. He's much more angsty, apparently allergic to Paris; and as they're two years into their relationship, rather than two hours, there's more focus here on the compromises couples play out rather than the initial flush of an all-night chat.

The set-up is that they've been on holiday in Venice, and are stopping off in Paris to meet her parents - played by Delpy's real-life parents, French actors Albert Delpy and Marie Pillet. They bump into her old friends - and lovers - in a series of scenes that escalate in a believable, subtle fashion. The language barrier is used well, with at least a third of the script in French, preempting a shift in their power balance that serves as a catalyst for them to take stock of where they're at.

It's dry, funny and occasionally farcical, but played out as a realistic take on mid-30s dating. Confident direction, a real feel for Paris, and great performances from all bring the sharp script together, occasionally touching a Woody Allen 70s/80s vibe.

Not to be confused with 1 Night In Paris.

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#chimp71

13th Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Knocked Up

(dir. Judd Apatow)

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

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#chimp71

31st Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Latitude Festival

Henham Park, Southwold, Suffolk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘It’s called, the Eye of the Tiger’.

‘What?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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#Gig
#LG

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

Dogs

Tall Stories From Under The Table

Weekender

This album has taught me a lot about the current music scene and how I listen these days, and here's how. Despite the increasingly unstable world in which we live the protest song is pretty much non existent. Few bands have the individuality to really describe a certain time or place. Dogs don't make protest songs at all so you might wonder why I'm wasting your time in talking about this. Well, the reason lies in their similarity to bands like The Jam. "But The Jam never made protest songs either" I hear you cry. But what they did do better than most was perfectly capture the times in which they were recording. And since these times were less than rosy their songs become a form of protest. This startling similarity with another band would normally put me right off but although Jonny Cooke's voice is very Paul Weller it's more the spirit of The Jam that makes this record so appealing. It has the same stirring energy that renders it more marching music than moshing music. Plus, Mr. Weller is a big fan and actually plays piano on the final track so that makes it alright.

It has also brought to light interesting observations about how I listen to new records these days. The constantly turning marketing machine makes it very hard for a band's true talent to shine. Even the most sincere music can appear as little more than the result of a board meeting and as a result the innocent faith we used to have in rock has been lost and an emerging ban has a lot to prove for me from the outset. As soon as I see their advertising plastered all around Shoreditch, we've got problems. I realised with Dogs that an album by a relatively new band unfortunately starts off rubbish and has to prove itself otherwise. I came to this observation because that's just what this album has done.

Less than a minute into track one and something is stirring in the belly. Dirty Little Shop kicks this album off with a triumphant fist in the air. The vocals are grimy yet swelling and the accompanying guitars and drums are strong and driving. It's pretty much this from here on in. There really isn't a duff track here. The Jam thing is glaringly obvious and you do start to wonder if this is going to be a problem but your tapping foot tells you to lighten up and just go with it man. And once you get to This Stone Is A Bullet you'll be glad you did. It's the album figure head and it's as near to the mob rousing anthem as Mr. Weller ever got (well ok, it's not, but while you're in it you think it could be.) Forget It All is a driving, spiky little number complete with hand claps while Little Pretenders shows Dogs bearing their teeth in this forceful guitar onslaught that is continued on the awesome, energy bursting By The River.

Like I explained earlier, I can't help my cynical mind working overtime and trying to ruin a lot of new music for me. Maybe it's my age, the honeymoon period I enjoyed with emerging bands has long ceased but in its place there is something more profound. Yes bands have to work hard to rise above this cynicism but once they do they rarely go back. At this age it's hard to fall for the NME hype as it's not directed at you. So you might miss out on a few really special moments in new music as they happen but you'll get to them eventually. Dogs' 2005 debut Turn Against This Land pretty much passed me by but i've found them now and my life is better for it. Dogs are 5 unpretentious Londoners making solid songs direct from their experiences, they recall great bands who did the same back when they were brimming over with the same energy that drives these guys. Highly recommended.

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#BC

3rd Jul 2007 - 8 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Hollywood Homicide

Ron Shelton

Two cops, more interested in pursuing other careers, search for the killer after a nightclub murder. Harrison Ford makes one movie per year these days making this choice inexplicable. It really is that bad..

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#CJ

1st Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The White Stripes

Icky Thump

XL Recordings

After the success of Jack White's near-permanent side-project of last year took off, the rumours flew that The White Stripes were to be no more. Only a fool would fall for that gag though, especially from a band that has a history of telling fibs and only needs a few days to record a new album. They spent a whopping 3 weeks recording this one, and it shows.

Lead single Icky Thump follows the method we've seen before of a banging radio friendly single that's track one on the album, but if I'm honest it hasn't had as much impact on me as either Seven Nation Army or Blue Orchid did. However, where those two tracks seemed like the only track on each album of that ilk, Icky Thump does sit in with things here more harmoniously.

Judging by the suits on the cover there's more than a nod to Gram Parsons and Emmylou going on here. You Don't Know What Love Is sees Jack White taking his lessons from The Raconteurs and creating an FM friendly 80's rock track.... with a touch of country. It's straightforward, but immediately engaging, oozing with personality. The production quality is definitely up on their previous efforts, which has a always been a bug-bear of mine. I never understood why using vintage equipment shouldn't result in such basics as a consistent volume level.... The Beatles and The BEach Boys always managed OK.

While the production quality may be up, the inconsistency is present in the style of the songwriting which seems to never offer the same idea twice. There seems to be few common threads running through the themes of the songs, and it very much sounds like a compilation album. 300 M.P.H. Torrential Outpour Blues is a heavy-handed down beat number, with vaguely obnoxious guitars. Conquest is a cover of Corky Robbins, complete with Mexican trumpets. Prickly Thorn makes an impression with it's infusion of bagpipes, although it leads into St. Andrew (This Battle Is In The Air), which unfortunately hides Meg's vocal contribution in cut-up tape tricks. Great title though.

Things sound tired with Little Cream Soda's rambling jam with chat. The focus seems to have been lost and the stop/start dynamic of this track and Rag and Bone in particular is already sounding a little tired - although Jack's line about "doghouse, outhouse and ...." show that he's obviously a Tommy Lee Jones fan.

I'm Slowly Turning Into You and A Martyr For My Love For You form a great centerpiece to the album - finally something a bit more serious, sitting somewhere between the outstanding musical edge of the The White Stripes and the more straightforward style of The Raconteurs. They seem much more thought out and complete than a lot of the album, and give the ever present glimpse of what a great album the band could make if they cut their output level by three and harnessed more of their live brilliance on their records.

#Music
#CSF

23rd Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Editors

An End Has A Start

Sony BMG

If my record collection was a sinking ship (which before the days of promo cd's and hooky downloads it was) this new album by Editors would be one of the first to go overboard. That's not to say it's bad, it's just totally unnecessary if you have their excellent debut. Very little progress has been made from their soaring musical arrangements that on The Back Room combined to great effect with Tom Smith's baritone strength as frontman.

It's the same story here but the highs are nowhere near as lofty. It's a shame because in their own right these are really solid songs. The title track is a driving tour de force but if you've got All Sparks you don't need it. Bones is the slow, rumbling track that gently builds to a powerful climax but then so did The Back Room's Fall and Camera.

Smith's voice has a booming depth that commands real power but his band provide a sound that we hear all too much these days. The restraint he showed on The Back Room was the source of the tension that held it all together but it's just a bit tiresome here and I just wish he'd let rip now and again. He comes close on The Racing Rats but still frustratingly manages to keep it together. Songs like this and Escape The Nest make the best bids for the peak but by taking the same rout as their predecessors they will be forever shackled.

I like this band, they swim in the same pool as the other NME-loving new comers but don't subscribe to all the pretension that comes with such company. I like the way they're called Editors and not The Editors, I really liked The Back Room and all the b-sides that came with it and really wanted to like this. I was primed and ready, I was an easy target, but they missed, and I'm sure they couldn't give a monkey's that they missed me but I do and that's all that counts.

#Music
#BC

21st Jun 2007 - 5 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Cut City

Exit Decades

Gold Standard Labora

Many people may have come across this record while searching the web for any news of Interpol's next move. Whether intentionally or not, Sweden's Cut City had their debut leaked under the name Interpol - Mammoth and the clever thing about this genius piece of marketing and internet manipulation is that once you've downloaded this it would probably take the average casual Interpol fan a few plays to realise that it isn't the New York wonder boys after all, but a band who sound exactly like them in nearly every way. This overwhelming similarity would normally turn me right off but the cunning strategy and the fact that it's a pretty good listen have endeared this beautiful pastiche to my ears.

With heavy drums, chiming guitars and Max J Hansson's monotone vocals songs like opener Like Ashes and Anticipation have all the driving force and deep penetration of the myriad of influences that present themselves with every note. You can't help thinking through albums like this how similar the whole retro music trend is to chinese whispers. Interpol were clearly influenced by Joy Division and while Cut City give more than just a passing nod to the Factory trailblazers it's Interpol from whom most of their sound has developed. So somewhere along this chain of inspiration the sound is diluted. Intepol's Paul Banks  is no where near as intense a vocalist as Ian Curtis and here we see Hansson to be a diluted version of Banks.

But if the forthcoming Interpol album sucks, and now that the new Editors album does suck, Exit Decades will more than fill the gap in your Joy Divisionesq, barritone post-punk slot and no record collection is complete these days without such a slot.

#Music
#BC

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

James Yorkston

Roaring The Gospel

Domino

The Stones once sang that you can't always get what you want but sometimes you get what you need. But such sentiments were written in the days before globalisation and rampant consumerism.  These days you can you usually get what you want even if it's not strictly what you need.  Our local high street doesn't need a new branch of Subway, JJB Sports or Nandos but that's what we're going to get because apparently that's what the punters want.  In 2007 when everyone seems to have a voracious appetite for musical consumption one thing we definitely don't need is another singer-songwriter out of the folky troubadour mold.  Another one just isn't needed.  There's plenty to cater for our needs already.  Where-ever one stands on the spectrum it seems your needs are catered for; from the Magic FM listening tweeness of the likes of James Blunts to the indie kid loving Bright Eyes of this world.  So we don't strictly need James Yorkston but he is what we should want. When it comes to sorting the musical wheat from the chaff this boy would be top of the pile ready to be sacked up and sent to the mill.

Where many of these troubadours subscribe to the notion that 'imitation is the sincerest form of flattery' and make little effort to disguise the fact that they have just re-hashed the winning formulas tabulated by the likes of Bob Dylan, Nick Drake, and Neil Young, 'Roaring the Gospel' shows that Yorkston’s influences are wider and deeper than that.  Yorkston is a protege of Bert Jansch and I'd hazard a guess that in addition he is not only familiar with Dylan’s back pages but also knows every nook and cranny of such albums as Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, Love’s Forever Changes and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s Deja Vu.  'Roaring the Gospel', his fourth album, cherry picks some of the finer moments from his heros and blends them together to tasty effect.  Add to this mixture lyrics and a voice that seeps celtic folk traditions and the brew is quite potent indeed.  It might not be entirely groundbreaking but it is an approach that provides Yorkston’s tunes with a character and identity which is very much distinct from his contemporaries.

It is not just the range of influences that ensures Yorkston is sacked up as wheat rather than discarded as chaff; it is also his refusal to follow the route of many of his competitors who feel the need to return to a back to basics style orthodoxy of 'man with guitar recording songs in the solace of his room.'   As a result he has avoided the pitfalls of introspection and melancholy which some manage to make appealing but most don't.  The range of instruments utilised in the pursuit of a sound that is warm, rich and charming is both daring and dizzying.  Yorkston adds colour to his tunes with the odd unexpected flourish. On 'The Lang Toun' the humming presence of bagpipes is inspired.  Accordions don't often make an appearance in modern music but add a certain panache to 'Sleep is the Jewel.'  And when was the last time you heard an oboe used in tandem with a banjo, let alone to used to such magical effect as on 'Seven Sirens'?

I hope James Yorkston has sharp elbows because he really needs to be pushing his way to the front or he'll be lost and dismissed amongst the crowd of all the other singer-songwriting troubadours we don't need.

#Music
#Muxloe

16th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Pissed Jeans

Hope For Men

Sub Pop

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#CSF

11th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Dirt

Mötley Crüe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#BW

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

Arctic Monkeys

Astoria, London

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#Gig
#Muxloe

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

Frightened Rabbit

Sing The Greys

Hits The Fan

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

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

#Music
#BC

30th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Joakim

Monsters & Silly Songs

K7

You know those days when you just can't decide between, deep techno, grung rock, abstract noise, driving electro or ambient electronica so you settle for Kid A, well now there's an alternative. Joakim's second album in four years has it all and though this may lead to a slightly disjointed listen it's great to hear an album you can't sum up in the first few tracks.

True opener Sleep In Hollow Tree is a dark, pulsating start to the album recalling experimental oddballs Liars, while Drumtrax is a thumping instrumental electro jam rivaling anything from DFA or LCD. The slower offerings come in the form of Lonely Hearts which could be early Moby or Royksopp and there's even the sprawling ambience of The Devil With No Tail that is not too dissimilar to that of Japanese legend Susumu Yokota. But none of this would amount to anything if it weren't for the album highlight of Love Me 2. This is nearly 9 minutes of slow building drums that if Michael Mann ever hears he'll issue a re-edit of Heat where the Moby song that soundtracks the De Niro/ Pacino motorway chase is dropped for this gem. When you think it's about to climax and tail off you'll see from the time bar that it's only half way through. But do not fear, this baby will put out.

And the same can be said for the album as a whole. It's not perfect but it aims high. A general criticism for albums like this that showcase a wide variety of genres is that they end up spreading themselves too thin and become a Jack of all trades and master of none but I wouldn't say this about Monsters & Silly Songs. It's a highly original project that is both challenging and exciting and if you want to bitch and moan that I've done nothing here but name-check other bands, then I apologise - but hey, I can't write Shakespeare all the time.

#Music
#BC

27th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Busdriver

RoadKillOvercoat

Epitaph

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#HHG

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

The Departed

(dir. Martin Scorsese)

Jack Nicholson's Boston mob have a long term mole in the State Police department, who is keeping them one step ahead of the law. As a response, the undercover department - led by Martin Sheen and sidekick Mark Wahlberg - put their own man deep undercover with the mob. So deep that no-one knows who is to be trusted.

While the original Hong Kong version Infernal Affairs is a great story that is slickly made, the ante is up with this Hollywood re-make and Scorsese is all-in. The story is slowed down and stretched out, giving it room to breathe, grow and live - and the all-star cast make almost every role memorable. 

There's a few timeless director tricks from the master Scorsese - such as some sneaky iris pulls - plus great music, pyrotechnic editing, stellar performances and of course brutal violence.

A couple of bluescreen shots show up some storyboarding boo-boos that undermine things a bit - not to mention the shockingly bad Photoshop work on the family photos. While the script is great with fantastic dialogue, the thing that most lets the film down is the original story. While the use of text messaging and mobile phones is a realistic update to the undercover story some key moments are clumsily handled. While Hong Kong movies have a habit of going with style over substance, that just won't wash with a movie of this calibre. A little bit of mystery about who was actually the rat would have helped, and the double-dating shrink just seemed to make the whole world of the movie a bit too small.

However, after dropping the ball with Gangs of New York and batting a slow and steady  average with The Aviator, Scorsese is firing on almost all cylinders here - chasing after the glory days of Taxi Driver, Goodfellas or Casino. The acting is assured and superb almost throughout - particularly from DiCaprio, thoroughly impressing me for almost the first time. It's a totally entertaining masterpiece that can be watched over and over - and it has all the trademarks you'd expect from this hall-of-fame director working with the cream of the Hollywood crop.

#Film
#CSF

26th Feb 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Working For A Nuclear Free City

Rocket

It's no secret these days that the kids are wearing the rock trousers and they're in danger of showing up their older and wiser counterparts when it comes to sheer quantity of quality. The much favored Arctic Monkeys are still fresh from a prize winning debut and we already have enough new material from them to fill another. Likewise Working For A Nuclear Free City gave us their self titled debut late last year and here we are in January with a fantastic 4 track ep of songs not only new but that display a definite progression.

This ep shows a more mature sound and will go some way to dispel the Stone Roses comparison which was so tempting in their debut. Opening track "Rocket" shuffles its feet beautifully for the first half then explodes with a cacophony of just about every instrument available and the result is thrilling. The boys do it again with "Heaven Kissing Hill" which starts with an Arab Strap style monologue which then opens up into soaring instrumentals. This song ends with the same beard stroking spoken word but soon crumbles into laughter showing this bands refreshing ability to not take itself too seriously. Another great instrumental master-class follows then things are brought to a close with "Stone Cold". This revisits their earlier Roses sound but still works and judging by the first 3 tracks and this songs title this closer could be the bands way of laying to rest their previous influences and preparing the ground for new seeds. But we shall have to wait and see what's in store for this band but if this little taster is anything to go by it could come at any time and the chances of quality is pretty high.

#Music
#BC

31st Jan 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

LCD Soundsystem

Sound Of Silver

These days fashion is a major player in making an album hit or miss - and James Murphy's LCD Soundsystem proved this in 2005 when their self titled debut took everyone by storm. It being the right time for their blend of self referencing, witty beat punk wasn't the only reason it was such a success. The album was full of well crafted, intelligent music which set the bar high for their second installment. "Sound Of Silver" sees them take stock of all that has gone before and move on confidently.

'Get Innocuous' creeps in with a whisper and the album is off to a perfect start. A 2 minute gently rolling beat intro is the frame work for Murphy's unassuming vocals. This could be vintage Talking Heads if it wasn't for the fiercely electronic structure. It tells us from the outset that some new strings have been added to this bow and to start the difficult second album off with a 7 minute piece of lushness like this sends out a message of confidence and progression. 'Time To Get Away' revisits old ground with wailing vocals stabbing at stuttering beats but the new ideas soon return. 'Someone Great' opens with an almost Top Gun theme morphing into Human League synths and the stand out track 'All My Friends' continues the 80's synth revival with a more piano led driving beat that never pauses and could go on forever. James Murphy's vocals are taken down a notch as in the opening track and the result of this change is stunning. Its relentlessness is awesome and even though the pace never changes you feel as if you're building up to something powerful. As in the best Joy Division moments it's this combination of a rolling bass structure, subtly building vocals and the guts to take a song past the 4 minute mark that make this album memorable.

This is a band settling into their sound and a displaying a progression that shows a lot of maturity. Their 2005 debut was perfect for that time both in content and style. Murphy's DFA label was huge, pioneering a very exciting electro/indie crossover and the sound that emerged from the labels history was fresh and a generation of super-cool indie kids were more than ready to accept Murphy's blend of synth beats and abrasive punk musings even though his lyrics often ridiculed the image conscious demographic that followed him. But since then the elctro-punk style has become somewhat tired so this album couldn't have been easy for the band. Talking Heads have been the principle influence for some of the best bands to emerge in the last 3 years and they certainly feature here. But this influence has brought a more earthy sound to LCD and that's where the maturity lies. Just as with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's Some Loud Thunder we see a band who after making people sit up and take notice of their first statement are now settling in for the long-haul and although they've eased off on the gas they're making music with more depth and durability.

#Music
#BC

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

Five Days

(dir. Otto Bathurst, Simon Curtis)

When a young Hertfordshire woman disappears while buying flowers, her two children also go missing - as the police and media machine spring into action.

Superior drama from the BBC and HBO. The series has the high-quality writing and acting that the BBC has recently been more than capable of producing, with the production value of an American show. This however, is a distinctly British story - with none of the (sometimes) psuedo-Americanization seen in State Within, Spooks or Torchwood.

This is a complex and well-thought out script, that unfolds the story over 5 days (one day per episode) - using the interesting device of picking non-consecutive days (1,3,28,33,79) that are pinnacle moments in the case. That allows the writers to fill in the blanks with detail and hindsight, analysing the way that a case like this effects those involved, the community, the media and the general public.

#TV
#CSF

24th Jan 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Proposition

(dir. John Hillcoat)

19th century lawman Captain Stanley (Ray Winstone) captures Charlie (Guy Pearce) and Mikey Burns. In order to save Mikey from hanging, Charlie is released and given nine days to find and kill their older brother Arthur Burns (Danny Huston), a grusume criminal.

This brutal narrative, penned by Nick Cave, gives a vivid impression of an early, lawless Australia. The oppresive heat, vast landscapes and ruthless characters add to the sense of drama here. The early signs of destruction of the Aboriginal peoples are here. Some have been tempted into the world of the settlers and others fighting to proetect their community and native culture.

Whilst all these components set the film up nicely the action doesn't quite live up to the potential. Certain relationships such as Winstone's with his wife (Emily Watson), and why he suffers from chronic head pain are only alluded to. Likewise, the dynamic between the outlaw brothers is never really uncovered. At only 1 hour 40 there was some room to expand on these themes further, but still an enjoyable and interesting experience.

#Film
#CJ

15th Jan 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Smokin' Aces

(dir. Joe Carnahan)

Big cast for this trashy mob hit throwaway thriller that manages to take that ultraviolent guns, girls and gangs Tarantino mould and have fun with it, rather than boring you with another pointless beer-ad rip-off: Ben Affleck, Andy Garcia, Alicia Keys, Ray Liotta, Jeremy Piven, Jason Bateman, Common, Ryan Reynolds, Peter Berg.

It's a simple Game Of Death style plot: flashy Vegas magician Buddy "Aces" Israel (the awesome Jeremy "Ari from Entourage" Piven) has got mixed up with the mob, and is holed up in a Reno hotel penthouse after he's decided to turn state's evidence. The mob put out a contract on him, and the film's basically a race between various teams of assassins, some bondsmen and the Feds to get to him first.

Piven's on fire here (sometimes literally) - a paranoid coked-out sleazeball manically shuffling cards in his dressing gown, trying to hold it together long enough for FBI men Ray Liotta and Ryan Reynolds to take him into custody. Alicia Keys and Common have both been to that school of totally convincing hip hop actors. Jason Bateman's shady lawyer is a great cameo. Even Baffleck is decent - there's hope for his post Bennifer career yet.

It veers in tone at times (which kind of works), and there's a flaw in the ending which lets it down a bit, but overall Joe "Narc" Carnahan delivers one of those pumped-up live action cartoons that remembers how to have fun with the blow-the-fuck-out-of-everything genre. Also, it's only a touch over 100 minutes, which feels pretty compact these days.

#Film
#chimp71

29th Dec 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

120 Days

120 Days

Smalltown Supersound/Vice

120 Days is a fair assumption of what might have happened had Ian McCulloch or even Bono turned up for the post of Ian Curtis' replacement instead of Bernard Sumner. Fusing driving 80's beats, tight guitar arrangements and soaring vocals, Norway's 120 Days have crafted a tidal wave of sound with their debut LP. Their intention to 'go large' is evident from the 9 minute techno opener of Come Out. It's long, sprawling, cold, impenetrable, it's late night motor-way driving, it's Michael Mann and it sums up the grand vision of this record. Taking the best bits from the 80's indie scene and injecting a bit of Kraftwerk here and there this is a most satisfying debut and although they never reach the intensity or raw passion of bands like Joy Division or Neu! they still manage to create a grandeur that at times is quite thrilling.

They tend to stick to a tried and tested formula with each track creeping in on a swirling, astral synth wave making way for the hard, bass heavy drum-machine beat to kick in. This driving techno-like structure provides acres of space for the dark vocals as they slowly building us up to majestic heights. The stand out moment is Get Away, and with it we see a brief emergence of a more rock orientated structure with the sweeping synths making way for soaring guitars and Adne Meisfjord's vocals break out from their electro confines to embrace a more passionate level of intensity. This all culminates with the epic 11.5 minutes of closing track I've Lost My Vision. Often a closer of this length means an annoying hidden track that follows 6 minutes of silence but here it's beats all the way home. The vocals have the luxury of starting 2 minutes in and then slowly dropping away to let the music span out over this vast landscape only to return later to remind you just how awesome this song is. Then just as any self respecting track would be called in for their dinner, 120 Days plays on with a soaring 2 minute guitar finale.

The albums formula can seem repetitive at times but it sounds intentional and adds to the high speed-4 am-sprawling-Autobahn vibe. The synths echo the sweep of street lights as they pass over head every second for miles and miles and the beats become the evenly spaced motorway repair lines that bump the wheels over and over. It all becomes quite mesmerizing at times and this debut should be accompanied by a government warning not to listen to it while driving.

#Music
#BC

29th Nov 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet