Chimpomatic

The War On Drugs

Wagonwheel Blues

Secretly Canadian

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#Muxloe

5th Jun 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Mudhoney

Superfuzz-Bigmuff (Deluxe Edition)

Sub Pop

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

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

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

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

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

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#chimpovich

30th May 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Atlas Sound

Let The Blind Lead Those Who Can See But Cannot Feel

4AD

"The dream of one summer, this last summer I had. It's almost as if I had one continuous dream and the product of achieving it is the album you have here." And so writes Bradford Cox, the creator behind Deerhunter and this, his earliest incarnation and solo pursuit, Atlas Sound. Let The Blind... is the debut album under this name and "one continuous dream" would be an accurate way to describe it. With themes of nostalgia and childhood infiltrating every pore of this sound much of its conception can be attributed to one whole summer where, as a 16 year old, Cox lay immobilized in a children's hospital undergoing surgery on his back and chest. This lost summer, spent bedridden and gazing longingly at the world, echoes the bleached out warmth of this sound and the endless dream-like imagery that loom in and out of focus throughout the record.

Let The Blind... is the vehicle by which Cox can express the ideas he feels unable to in Deerhunter. It's a one man bedroom recording of great depth and beauty that spends much of its time swimming in hazy pools of warmth while occasionally rising to minimal peaks of focus before receding back again. It employs similar washes of sound as Deerhunter's 2007 Cryptograms but assumes the roll of its more reserved cousin, lonely and sedated it spends its time indoors dreaming and anticipating.

A muffled child's voice clumsily narrates a ghost story in the opening few moments only to be overcome by a slow approaching wave of sampled glockenspiel that blissfully fades to the gentle rhythms and distant vocals of Recent Bedroom. Cox uses repetition to convey this dreamlike state with looping vocal formations drifting in and out of the listeners consciousness like the various stages of sleep. As the distant muffle of Recent Bedroom gives way to the crisp and clear pitter-patter of River Card you can feel yourself rising from slumber with ease and gentleness. Cold As Ice sees you fall back into the abyss only to be summoned back with angelic grandeur by the chiming synths of Small Horror. From the clipped drum roll of River Card to the sunken 4/4 techno beat of Winter Vacation, Cox smothers every minute of this record in rich effects conjured from homemade electronica.

Compared to his work with Deerhunter this is very much the sound of an individual. Sonically and thematically Let The Blind... describes the space inhabited by this one individual, be it the swirling pastoral landscape of his mind or the confines of a hospital bed. This is a very personal piece of work which manages to shimmer with warmth and shiver with icy melancholy. On Quarantined he sings "quarantined and kept so far away from friends," so his only option is to escape into this dream while he lies there "waiting to be changed."

As the closing fuzz of the final title track echoes opener A Ghost Story, you really have to emerge from this record to rejoin the real world. It's effects are subtle and it's not until it fades away that the spell is revealed and you realise how deep you have been taken. This is an abstract musical journey and seems to flow with a disjointed perfection that makes it work best as a unified whole rather than a collection of songs. It's headphone music to really disappear to and like most of Cox's work it's a fiercely original sound that knows exactly where its going and will take as long as it wants to get there. Your only choice is whether you've got what it takes to tag along.

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#BC

22nd Apr 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Why?

Alopecia

Anticon

Returning from the recent staff snowboard trip I stopped off at San Francisco's Amoeba Records and picked up my copy of Why?'s Alopecia. It seemed a fitting place to purchase this Bay Area artist and so with that and a few other missing pieces to the Anticon puzzle I embarked on the 10 hour return journey to London. Maybe it was the severe lack of sleep, or the numerous injuries that plagued my aged body - but on returning home I was all set to hit the Chimp office with a rather disappointing review of this record. After the few disjointed play-throughs on the plane, this follow up to 2005's delightful Elephant Eyelash lacked it's predecessors energy and edge. It seemed to be a pale and overproduced shadow of the work achieved by Yoni Wolf in the past.

So having started this relationship on the sunny Californian shores it took a prolonged 2 hour traffic jam on a rainy Thursday night on the A3 for the love affair to begin. Anticipating a half-hour journey, this was the only CD on my person and after about 4 back-to-back plays this record stared me square in the face with astonishing honesty and made me ashamed of the thoughts I had formed in my pitiful mind. Yoni Wolf's transformation from lo-fi, underground hip-hop to melodic indie-pop seemed to be near completion on the recent Hollows EP and I guess my initial disappointment was wrapped up in that fact. I have always been in favor of this transformation as throughout Wolf's work with either cLOUDDEAD or Reaching Quiet his gift for a melody was always there but under used and during the first half of Alopecia it is heavily exploited.

Alopecia is made up of two halves and most of the deal makers occur in the latter part of the record. From the outset it's obvious that the production has never been slicker. Wolf has always been the figurehead of a lo-fi, homemade sound but things have changed. The Vowels Pt. 2 kicks off proceedings with short, plodding steps and it's clear this hike in production quality is being put to good use. This shiny, crystal clear melody loosely glosses over the dark themes that run through this record. Sex and death is pretty much it, making Alopecia far more twisted than its predecessor. Lines like "faking suicide for applause in the food court of malls" are the norm here not to mention, "sucking dick for drink tickets and the free bar of my cousins Bar Mitzvah." Death usually relates to Yoni's own demise and is always delivered in rosy, tongue-in-cheek candy wrappers. Fatalist Palmistry begins "I sleep on my back cos it's good for the spine and coffin rehearsal.

Wolf's vocal range is what makes his work so listenable. He can go from the low, shuffling rap of Good Friday to the nasal melody of These New Presidents and his writing is so surreal, bustling with imagery and so meticulously pronounced that your ear is forced to attempt to decipher each verse but rarely succeeds . On the unnerving Simeon's Dilemma Wolf assumes the role of a stalker and describes his obsession with a certain female by way of high pitched singing tones which makes the content even more cringeworhty.

As heard on the recent EP, The Hollows carries the weight here with a rarely heard increase in volume by means of grinding guitars and crescendo vocals. The Fall Of Mr. Fifths marks the turning point of the record. It's way more in line with Wolf's earlier Anticon work with rapid delivered spoken verse and surrounded by textural atmosphere. A Sky For Shoeing Horses Under continues the spoken verse with rain-drop-like keyboards trickling down around it, it's a simple and all too short piece of work but emerges as one of the finest moments on the record. The other comes in the form of By Torpedo Or Crohn's. This was the other stand out track on the EP with a remix by Dntel, but this version is slower and allows much needed room to truly appreciate Wolf's art.

It's an art that is second to none and the distance this band have come is astonishing. Though darker in tone Alopecia is a definite progression from the airy Elephant Eyelash. Its another step to the honing of their direction and it's quite rare to see a band with direction these days. Wolf crams so many ideas into every breath of this record that it will take a lifetime to uncover it all. The shame I feel at my early judgement now serves as a reminder of the depth and complexity of this album, to not like it is to not get it i'm afraid.

#Music
#HHG

11th Apr 2008 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Youthmovies

Good Nature

Drowned in Sound

Youthmovies are an Oxford based quintet put together by Al English and Foals founding member Andrew Mears. After a series of well received EPs comes their debut album Good Nature, a distillation of the band’s various incarnations and the long graft of touring and festival playing.

The band cites King Crimson, Steve Reich and Sonic Youth as their official influences but there’s a lot going on in here and straightening out some kind of musical heritage is pretty pointless. In today’s musical landscape of retro-mania it’s refreshing to find myself perplexed and this is both the band’s strength and stumbling block.

There’s innovation aplenty here, songs that build and fragment, tease and frustrate; shifting from squalls of guitar, brass and heavy drumbeat to sudden, becalmed stillness. 8 minutes is a long time though and Youthmovies don’t shy away from extending their template of alternating (often conflicting) musical movements over such lengths. The effect is idiosyncratic and unpredictable but can be tedious in the same measure.

At it's most successful, on tracks like If You’d Seen A Battlefield, the band concede that melody is not a bad thing. The music slips between cascading guitars and rhythm driven brass, then erupts into a baroque guitar crescendo. It’s exciting. But the band’s habit of reducing lyrics to short phrases, repeated like mantras, expose a problem and in this particular song - a dangerous truth. ‘It’s not going well and it’s not going badly, it’s just going’, repeats Andrew Mears and he’s got a point.

Something for the Ghosts begins a 9-minute run by mesmerising you; shifting from wistfully repeated lyrics to tumbling guitar chords and building drumbeats. In many of these tracks, the changes of tempo and pace can become exhausting and ultimately a bit aimless. Here the song avoids becoming fractured and drives on, building ominously and with a kind of savage determination. It’s a shame then, when it hits the closing lines; ‘Motorway crash-barriers make me feel like we’re going to crash’. It’s not just that the words claim a kind of minimalist, poetic potency which is clearly beyond them but that in their delivery, Mears once again veers the sound dangerously close to Bloc Party territory.

Youthmovies tackle the label of prog-rock head on in their promotional material, then kind of do a little shimmy to avoid it sticking. They declare that it’s only ‘prog-rock’ to the ‘initiated’ but then spend the album trying to convince you that ‘progressive’ isn’t ‘a dirty word’. They’re right it isn’t and Good Nature does manage to get you onside. But equally they’re wrong to suggest there’s nothing pretentious about the swelling bombast and lyrical misjudgement which occasionally undermines the album. 6 tracks in, Good Nature hits it's stride and the journey’s well worth going on. There’s plenty more to come from Youthmovies I’m sure.

#Music
#LG

13th Mar 2008 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks

Real Emotional Trash

Domino

Real Emotional Trash is the fourth solo album from Stephen Malkmus since the amicable break-up of lo-fi pioneers and all time Hall of Famers, Pavement, nearly ten years ago. On heading out on the solo seas, Malkmus opted for an ‘ifitaintbrokedontfixit’ approach; taking that hyperactive yet laidback and slightly surreal sound he so effortlessly brough to Pavement, smoothing out the edges a touch and then just riding with it. For Real Emotional Trash, he obviously thought his well-oiled musical machine still wasn’t broke, so the odd tinker here and there would suffice rather than anything resembling a fix.

Inevitably it’s a maturer sound, but not at the expense of any of that trademark playfulness. “Of all my stoned digressions, some have mutated into truth” sings that familiar conversational voice on ‘DragonflyPie’ and ‘Stoned digressions’ is a neat way to sum up the music of Malkmus; never quite sure what he’s on about lyrically and musically liable to wander off in random directions, but heck it sure sounds nice.

I often forget how good a guitarist he really is, but he’s never one to turn down an extended jam with a range of effects pedals to showcase his chops. Joined by ex Sleater-Kinney drummer Janet Weiss (on drums obviously and the occasional backing vocal) R.E.T. rocks frequently, not least on the title track, which, with the aid of some jaunty piano, clocks in at a hefty ten and a half minutes.

While ‘Real Emotional Trash’ presents no real change of direction, it still follows that path forged by the founding of Pavement back in 1989, and what a scenic and above all fun path it is too - with Stephen Mallkmus up there at the front, holding the flag - your ever so slightly eccentric guide on this enjoyable journey.

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#chimpovich

13th Feb 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Cadence Weapon

Afterparty Babies

Big Dada

Recently I was having Quite an animated conversation with a Quality journalist friend of mine who writes for a Quintessential music magasine, the name of which I shall not Quote. When I asked him what he was listening to at the moment he sighed and told me of his disillusionment with the current music scene and said he only listens to old stuff now. His point was that no one makes complete albums anymore, they just make collections of singles. "Quite the opposite" I replied but then struggled to think of any examples to back me up. Well now I have one and if you're reading my friend, you may Quote me on that.

"My Dad said I was an afterparty baby; this goes out to all the accidents out there; keep on making mistakes." And so goes the dedication featured on Do I Miss My Friends, the opening track on this followup to Cadence Weapon's critically acclaimed debut Breaking Kayfabe. " I wanted to make music that afterparty babies were created to," explains Cadence Weapon aka Rollie Pemberton. Acting as a testament to Rollie's first influence, his father, Teddy Pemberton, creator of the Black Sound Experience Radio show and introducer of hip-hop to Rollie's hometown of Edmonton, Alberta, Afterparty Babies is a hectic journey through the world of club nights and house parties. This theme is explored through stories of friends, crews, nightmare DJ nights, hometowns, heroes, media and fashion.

Musically this is quite different from its predecessor. Where Breaking Kayfabe led with swirling, back-breaking electronic hip hop this one opts for a more electro/techno pace that serves to remove this artist from the hip hop roots that he may have once planted. Having seen him slot in a Joy Division cover at his London warm-up show last year, it's no surprise this album has moved on considerably from the debut and is the product of an artist open to a healthy array of musical influences. Pemberton presents an interesting juxtaposition between this thoughtful 'Wonder Years' style reminiscing and the harsh electro sound clash that carries it.

In my review of Breaking Kayfabe I was compelled to compare Cadence Weapon to a rampaging Terminator hell bent on destruction. It was a tenuous link I admit and made partly out of boredom of review-writing and also because 30 Seconds had a chorus that sounded a bit like The Terminator chase music. So I can't help feeling a sense of irony when mid-way through Afterparty Babies the song Messages Matter features a sample from Kindergarten Cop. " Who is your Daddy and what does he do?" comes the line and with it some interesting questions. Is Afterparty Babies the Kindergarten Cop to Breaking Kayfabe's Terminator? Are we seeing the human side of the cyborg? In a sense yes. It's not as hard hitting or relentless as the debut, it definitely has a lighter feel to it, it's more enjoyable and while you're jumping along to the uncharacteristically housey beats you know he's undercover and at the start of the movie you saw him kick someone's ass.

This may differ from the debut in all the ways mentioned earlier, it may be more melodic, spacious and palatable but let it run its course and you'll see it's just as tough as Breaking Kayfabe. It plays out like a night out clubbing but in reverse. It starts off strangely downtempo with Do I Miss My Friends? and by the end it's full on techno. There's no wind down, no gentle walk home with a kebab, it leaves you at top tempo to find your own way out. At the live show songs like In Search Of The Youth Crew and Real Estate were instant crowd pleasers and they don't disappoint here but instead become repetitive anthemic chants to Pemberton's Afterparty generation. True Story and Getting Dumb are electro master-classes, chucking in vintage house techniques with cuts and scratches and all topped by the most intricately crafted rhymes. It's certainly an album of 2 halves with the final few tracks providing the weight to this extraordinary record. Pemberton exited the stage at the Amersham Arms to House Music. It had the crowd jumping like a bunch of idiots and it has the same effect here. It's a dirty, crazy five and a half minutes. It swirls and bleeps to clapping beats and air-raid style sirens and it rules. By the time we get to the album closer We Move Away the techno conversion is complete. The club is in full swing and after a while the music even overtakes the creator and rises to a life of its own ending the album in almost 2 minutes of banging beats and grinding synths that threaten to go on until first light.

This has the feel of an album released by a well established hip-hop name that suddenly breaks from tradition and goes out on a limb, thus alienating hardened fans. It's exciting to see an artist do this so early and I can't imagine Cadence Weapon ever settling into a style. With this album he joins the ranks of MC's like Aesop Rock and Buck 65 as creators of their own style of hip-hop, constantly evolving and gathering up every influence and experience in their path. I am already eager to hear what this guy's got up his sleeve next and I bet I can find a Schwarzenegger link in it somewhere.

#Music
#HHG

10th Feb 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

There Will Be Blood

Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

Paramount Vantage

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

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

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

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

#Film
#CSF

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

Son Of Rambow

(dir Garth Jennings 2008)

Paramount Vantage

Journey back to the 80s in this good-natured film, a world filled with bleached highlights, dodgy pirate videos and French exchange students with asymmetrical T-shirts.

Sheltered Will (Bill Milner) isn’t allowed to watch TV at school because of his family’s strict religious views. Bad boy Lee Carter (Will Poulter) is constantly being kicked out of class. They meet in the hall outside their classrooms, where Lee bullies Will into helping him make a film to enter in Screentest (an 80s BBC film competition for kids). When it transpires that Will’s TV-less imagination has been on full throttle while he’s supposed to have been studying the bible, Lee knows he’s onto a winner, and their reworking of Rambo, Son Of Rambow, is born. The English countryside is soon filled with pint-sized Nam vets exploding things and generally battling the forces of evil.

There’s lots to enjoy here: the 80s details all feel pretty accurate, it’s affectionate, and does a good job of bringing the two outsiders together. But it never quite kicks into full throttle – there are lots of scenes, like the 6th form common room, or the Adam Buxton cameo (he shot the recent Radiohead online stuff with them, fact fans), which feel like the Hammer & Tongs team  just wanted to include them, without really thinking about their place in the film’s narrative; it’s a lot looser than it might have been.

That said, it’s always good to see a British film that avoids the costume drama/romcom track, and it’s certainly not a waste of time – more that ultimately it doesn't fully deliver on the concept's promise.

Like Be Kind Rewind, this is a film dedicated to the spirit of the VHS age, when you could stick a tape into a giant portable camera and lug it around while you filmed your adventures. But that’s almost the problem – it’s a film that talks about that moment when you first discover the power of cinema, rather than giving a new generation that moment for itself; nostalgia rather than first-hand excitement. Funny it’s coming out just before the new Rambo too.

#Film
#chimp71

5th Feb 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Vampire Weekend

Vampire Weekend

XL

29 days into 2008 and it's here. Sound the horn to call in your spies, the search is over. We may be a week late, but the first second great record of this year is upon us and that's not just yet another NME prediction of greatness, this is the official Chimp opinion - and we're strict here. Cast your mind back to 2001 and your excitement at hearing The Strokes' debut Is This It. It wasn't an altogether new sound gracing your ears, it's musical reference points were unashamedly obvious but it represented a departure from the current music du jour that was gripping the scene. Well, Vampire Weekend is the self titled debut from this New York 4 piece and it sounds nothing like The Strokes but they are bedfellows for more profound reasons. It represents a similar departure and ironically enough this departure could be seen as the breakaway from the trend that Is This It started. The Strokes kick started a return to grimy indie bands belting out simple, well crafted guitar music and we've seen very little else ever since. Vampire Weekend do the opposite. Yes they're an indie 4 piece from New York but their sound reaches far wider and their references are refreshingly varied.

Gentle Afro-rhythms combine with cheap organs, jaunty drum beats and a vocal style so relaxed and unassuming it all makes for easy listening in the best possible way. Although Talking Heads does vaguely come to mind the rest of the reference points are rarely seen in today's indie scene. Paul Simon, The Police and Ski Sunday spring to mind and like someone who has drawn a head on a piece of paper, folded it over and passed it on for the next person to draw the body all these odd parts unfold into an astonishingly complete whole. If you're the type that needs genres to aid your musical appreciation fear not as the boys have done the work for you describing their sound as 'Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa,' and 'Upper West Side Soweto.' It's Paul Simon but with Chevy Chase at his side keeping things light.

The other reason The Strokes' debut has been twinned with this one is the ease by which it seems to have been born. Songs like Oxford Comma with it's lounge-act style keyboards or the pogoing funk guitars of A-Punk drip forth like melting wax, nothing seems forced and no one seems to give a shit if it works or not. With a varied choice of themes like English grammar, preferred bus routs or American preppie fashion this is not your average record about love and loss. M79 is where my Ski Sunday reference crops up. Starting off with courtly 18th century harpsichord then slipping into a chorus of chamber music, this really shouldn't work. M79 is named after a Manhattan bus route which only adds to the confusion as this song evokes more cultures than is healthy in just over 4 minutes. The hymnal-meets-tribal thunder of I Stand Corrected shows a slightly more serious string to the bow and it leads on brilliantly to Walcott, the figurehead of this record. It's a furious steel-drum carnival of a song. Crashing cymbals and soaring melodies carry the repeated 'don't you want to get out of Cape Cod' chorus to new heights. It's dazzling and a shame it doesn't finish the album.

Vampire Weekend is good because it isn't trying to be good and it's different for the same reason. Not once do you get the impression that these world-rhythms and mismatched instruments have been employed because no one else has done it recently. It's effortless and it's joyously unaware of itself. We'll have to wait and see how the ultimate judge of time treats this little gem. These are simple pop songs and it's hard to say whether some may fall by the wayside but right now their simplicity and charm is exactly what we need. Their creativity and wealth of ideas is such that one listen to Vampire Weekend will get your mouth watering for their next album. Bring it on. This world needs more Ski Sunday-Afro Pop.

#Music
#BC

4th Feb 2008 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Sons and Daughters

This Gift

Domino

It is unfortunate that the performance I saw given by Sons and Daughters on last week’s Culture Show of their new single ‘Darling’, was so dire. Unfortunate because, having never seen S+D live, I would have thought them to be naturals on the open stage. Their shtick is, after all; Scottish, spiky, raw, guitar and drums combo, fronted by the vocals of Adele Bethel and Scott Paterson. No flourishes, a perfect live proposal.

In spite of the way Adele’s voice strained ever to match the range and quality displayed on their new album, ‘This Gift’, I’m still convinced that live they must be worth the price of a ticket. This is the band’s third album and builds on foundations laid by 2004’s ‘Love the Cup’. To my taste the paired down, Presbyterian joylessness of that first album made listening to it feel like a bit of a duty; I knew I should probably like it but could rarely be bothered with the effort.

With ‘This Gift’ however, the band combine the Gothic gloom of their lyrical landscape with an energetic new pop sensibility. West Coast Scots have always had an instinctual leaning towards American folk, Country and Soul and the land over the horizon can certainly be felt in the roots of this band’s musical origins. But with the aid of producer Bernard Butler, there is now a lightness of touch and eclecticism to the band’s range which helps show off the smooth Glasgow burr of Bethel’s voice.

The songs still talk of desperation, anger and sexual hunger but with a springing dynamism that doesn’t leave you feeling you’ve been beaten on the head with a frying pan for forty minutes. If you’re struggling to get up on these dull January mornings, stick this on and you’ll be given a jolt, a double shot of musical espresso. ‘House in My Head’ pounds out an urgent alarm call but manages to smooth the raw sound with guitar riffs that would delight Johnny Marr. ‘Goodbye service’, ‘Chains’ and the fabulous ‘Iodine’ make musical reality out of their lyrics. Lines that speak of ‘Trains in the distance’ and ‘High tension lines’ are driven with the momentum of a rampaging railroad engine. And when 60’s stomp ‘Darling’ urges you on with ‘twistin in, twistin out the night’, I dare your foot not to be tapping.

#Music
#LG

26th Jan 2008 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Instruments Of Science And Technology

Music From the Films of R/Swift

Secretly Canadian

With Richard Swift's debut release, he introduced us to the twin sounds of The Novelist/Walking Without Effort, before 2007's Dressed Up For The Let Down proved to go the distance and become one of the year's most lasting album's - providing an understated sound that was rich in detail.

With side-project Instruments Of Science And Technology, Swift takes us on another unforeseen journey, once again heading out into different territory to pull together the sountracks to a selection of imaginary films: Music From the Films of R/Swift.

Opener Ashes serves as an intro to the album, before leading into the upbeat INST - more pounding electronica that soundtrack. Themes and repetition are explored with the un-ordered Themes 3, 4 and 5 and the double barrel of Plan A & Plan B, and while there may or may not be actual films to accompany the music there is certainly a cinematic influence. The atmospherics of Brian Eno are the most obvious namecheck, with long, slow soundscapes building up and down altering the mood.

With Swift's characteristic voice virtually absent from the album, it's hard to place this alongside his existing work - as his vocal sound and lyrics are so integral to the success of both the debut and Dressed Up For The Let Down. If forced to view the album as a stand alone work it may not be perceived as the most original or unique record out there, but it's a solid album of textured electronica that adds another string to this man's bow. It also adds another subtle layer to the music he produces for his day job and that layer will hopefully be all the more apparent on future work.

#Music
#NM

21st Jan 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Best of 2007

HHG

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#HHG

18th Dec 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Castanets

In The Vines

Asthmatic Kitty

The follow up to 2005's First Light's Freeze is a desolate walk through the fear ridden caverns of Ray Raposa's thoughts. Based on a Hindu fable about being trapped in an inescapable fate, with death and the limitations of our physical lives closing in from all corners In The Vines is a claustrophobic experience yet strangely rewarding.

The claustrophobia comes from Raposa's intimate delivery. Castanets is pretty much a solo project but various session guests are drafted in. Despite this it is Raposa who dominates this sound with his hard-edged voice spinning sinister tales with gothic doom and paranoia. Musically it's about as sparse as the front cover might suggest. The two fragile stalks stand alone in a murky nothingness conjuring perfectly the feeling of this music. Raposa has always led us down an unnerving back alley but In The Vines is a journey where the end is predetermined and as he sings on the opening Rain Will Come "So it's going to be sad and it's going to be long."

But there are moments of beauty to the light the way here like the floaty guitar work on The Night Is When You Can Not See that builds to an ever so slight crescendo. There is quite often harmony vocals that suggest that we've got friends somewhere nearby which really serves as a comfort when feeling helplessly through Raposa's all-encompassing dark.

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#BC

7th 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

Celebration

The Modern Tribe

4AD

I had a quick listen to this in the car with Chimpovichs’ brother – who has been accurately dubbed a musical Mr Miyagi. (Coincidentally, our journey home was from a football match where he’d scored a crane-kick goal that Daniel LaRusso would have been proud of). However, much like watching all four Karate Kid films back-to-back we were glad when it was over.
 
Now, the original review ended here, but conscious that while the might of Miyagi-san's wisdom is rarely wrong, the car stereo may not have given it a fair run for its money. I can’t remember if the bass was on / was off – and as such I gave it another couple of listens. (You’ll be pleased to know I think I’ve run out of lame, unrelated, out of place, Karate based links).
 
So - The first thing to say on the second album from this Baltimore three piece Celebration is that it is actually pretty good. The melodic, beat driven art rock (?) tunes here have a kaleidoscope of layers while the stirring vocals of Katrina Ford lend a hot blooded rousing jolt. She’s got a set of lungs on her, oh yes, but she can also do soft and tender too..
 
The chief creative mind in the band pulses in the head of Sean Antanaitis. According to Wikipedia he plays Guitar, Guitorgan, Organ, Wurlitzer, Piano, Moog Pedal Bass, and Electronics and, according to the photos on their website, all at the same time. David Bergander - who ONLY plays the drums - maintains a steady and inventive beat throughout and he creates the setting for many a deep groove.
 
Now. Let’s say you got annoyed by the inability of this review to enlighten you as to the ‘sound’ of this band. Then, in a red rage, you break all the rules governing self-defence and launch an attack on me, force me in a choke-hold to encourage me to namecheck bands that have influenced this sound. What would I cough up? How about: the Cocteau Twins, Moloko, a hint of the intensity of Arcade Fire and, if I had any breath left in my oxygen starved lungs, a touch of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
 
Judging by what I’ve read, I think this lot may well enhance their reputation with their energetic and engaging live shows. According to their web-site, your woman, Katrina, “wishes a violent death upon the era of glum audience members motionlessly watching glum bands with glum arms crossed” and dances around in the crowd as they get everyone going.

This whole experience has taught me that the secret of Karate is in the heart and mind. Not in the hands.

#Music
#Locochimpo

3rd 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.

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#BC

30th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Mike Wexler

Sun Wheel

Amish

This is the debut album by Brooklyn acid-folkster Mike Wexler and it's a beauty. Once you get past Wexler's impish nasal delivery this is a tremendously rewarding achievement. Fitting somewhere in between the quirkiness of Devendra Banhart and the softness of Nick Drake, Sun Wheel is an eerie labyrinth of tinkering folk and piano driven melodies so delicate they could float.

Many of the tracks are over 5 minutes and take their time without ever dragging their feet. This is a timeless album in many ways. It is swamped in folk nostalgia that it would be quite hard to pin point just when it was created. It also seems to defy time in that each song drifts effortlessly from one tempo to the next and hints at an epic quality of old. This is seen most successfully in Cipher, the albums centre piece. Though one of the shorter songs it changes course with such triumphant confidence that you'd think you were listening to an epic musical journey the likes of which only Canterbury prog could touch upon. Wexler's voice resounds over a rich tapestry of musical instruments and it's depths seem to mirror the piano bass line that holds it all together.

The title track is Wexler at his most beautiful. It seems to meander where ever it feels like until settling down to a fantastic instrumental finale of delicate acoustic guitar and deep piano. Southern Cross has more of a marching rhythm and at almost nine minutes it really lifts the album towards the end with rising, epic majesty.

Sun Wheel introduces us to a talent to behold and the best thing is that it does this with great humility. This is a quietly triumphant record that respectfully nods to its predecessors and yet remains fiercely original. It is intriguing, beguiling, restrained and fantastically giving.

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#BC

20th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Angels Of Light

We Are Him

Young God Records

Welcome all, please be seated, the service of the church of the Angels Of Light is about to begin. We hope your sitting uncomfortably, this will take a while, there will be no breaks but once we have finished you will all be cleansed of the filthy sins that riddle your sorry souls.

A fair introduction I feel to this, the sixth album by Michael Gira's Angels Of Light. But as Gira's previous work with Swans was unrelenting in it's post-punk avant-guard ferocity We Are Him holds you tight with an unnervingly quiet intensity and bores deep into your being with slow, controlled focus. Musically it's the lightest and most accessible of all his work adopting an Americana flavor but instead of jaunty, thigh slapping hoe-downs it's more like stumbling across a time-forgotten town way down the Mississippi where everyone seems hell-bent on saving your soul. Claims like "I am the god of this fucking land," has Gira sounding like a twisted preacher who listens to too much Nick Cave. He employs a pattern of repetition in his writing that aims to mesmerize and hypnotize and it's very effective from the word go. Black River Song's heavy, pounding rhythm and booming vocals take you by the hand and lead you down to the water for the baptism to begin. Promise Of Water uses a subtler musical approach but the intent is the same. behind Gira's deep vocals is a throng of chanting backing voices like the towns folk carrying you aloft to your salvation. But after this dark introduction you can almost feel your soul getting lighter as The Man We Left Behind has a majestic swell to it as if stepping out of your riddled body and walking forward into the light. Gira's vocals are lighter and for a minute you feel that the job's done and just as you're about to exclaim, "well that wasn't so bad,'" My Brothers Man sits you down firmly and tells you that that was just stage one, and the wailing commences

Gira's vocals are complimented beautifully by the use of the female voice. Seen most effectively in Not Here/ Not Now they come at you like beckoning sirens, seductive and enticing. They provide a much needed richness to this sound. But one of the most thrilling aspects about this album and most of Gira's work is its unpredictability. After all this mournful seduction the title track resounds like a twisted, hand waving celebration as it frolics like a possessed gospel choir, and they march on in this manner throughout Sometimes I Dream I'm Hurting You but just as you start to enjoy yourself this song turns a scary corner, a corner that really should have been predicted by the song's title. Gira's repeated vocals take on a frenzied urgency and it's clear that your exorcism is in its final stages as he becomes possessed by the demons that pour forth from your lifeless body.

But hey, don't let that put you off, it's a journey we all have to make and no matter what the outcome it's a thrilling ride. It's a work of dark, hypnotic beauty that keeps you blindfolded all they way. It's heavy yet seductively charming and a real high point in this artists expanding career.

#Music
#BC

14th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Eugene McGuinness

The Early Learnings Of...

Double Six

Hailing from Northern Ireland (via Liverpool and London apparently, whatever that means) the 21 year old Eugene McGuinness follows hs single 'Monsters Under The Bed' with his first album, ‘The Early Learnings Of…’, on Domino's new publishing off-shoot Double Six.

Eight tracks clock in at a compact half-hour and take the listener on a brightly coloured trip through the nocturnal anxieties of McGuinness. The journey is peopled by Vampires and ‘Monsters Under The Bed’ and pleas to ‘Turn Up The radio’ and drown out the troubled voices in his head. 

Sounds traumatic, but McGuinness works in the same vein of musical whimsy as label alumni The Magnetic Fields.  In fact, album opener ‘High Score’ has a bouncing, bittersweet quality which mines dangerously close to former band’s particular sound.  There is plenty of layering to the melodies, switching between acoustic orchestration and synthesised keyboard in a manner similar to Gulag Orkestar.

‘English Rain’ and ‘Big Issue Salesmen’ feature in McGuinness’s pitch to wrestle the title of suburban, lyrical laureates from the likes of Belle and Sebastien.  In ‘Bold Street’ we veer across a streetscene of buskers and schoolboys and late-night vomit before skipping into a rendition of Twinkle-twinkle little star.  The displaced, alienation of Morrissey is always in McGuinness’s sights, but there is none of the raw bite to it.  Eugene is a young, middle-class, street-poet whose strolls through the city always lead him back to the comfort of his TV set, internet connection and a pot noodle.  You sense his gentle, metropolitan paranoia will never take him anywhere really challenging.

Highlights like ‘Monsters Under The Bed’ and ‘A Child Lost Tesco’ seize you with their chirpy restlessness and lyrical flair.  It’s all bit of a musical fairground, bright lights and ghost-trains, but you’re never in any real danger as Mc Guinness busily fills his notebook with new things to worry about.

#Music
#LG

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

Ween

The Friends EP

Schnitzel

Where can you begin when describing Ween? Like a friend who's the life and soul of the party, they often end up puking in the punch bowl and making out with your cousin. You know you should just stop hanging out with them, but you're always too ready to just give them one more chance.

Ween have always made a genre out of having no genre, but as the band seem ever hungry to (re)conquer 'new' territory they can be a little hard to pin down. With the opening salvo of Friends sounding like an Estonian entry into the Eurovision song contest I think It's safe to say that every genre has now been covered. Sounding note for note like a raved up Barbie Girl, only the lyrics serve as a clue that this is no what it seems. "Do you want me as your special friend?"

...or maybe I'm just believing the hype about Ween. Often lauded as superb musicians, I am forever finding myself waiting for that one serious (OK, maybe not serious, but at least less inside-joke-orientated) album. I have personally heard moments of their brilliance (Stay Forever, What Deaner Was Talkin' About, If You Could Save Yourself... ) and I know that a classic album is in there - they just seem reluctant to let it out. Like a west coast KLF, they are constantly playing the fool - poking fun and showing us just how easy it is to make all kinds of music, yet never quite letting us inside the circle. What do they actually want to sound like? What do they actually like? The psuedo-reggae of King Billy? The latin groove of Light Me Up? Or maybe the 80's soft-rock or Slow Down Boy, which never quite hits yacht? Hopefully it's the classic rock of Did You See Me, currently playing on their Myspace page.

It may be (yet) another mis-step, but this won't stop me looking and yet again I'll just put this one down to a funny joke and wait for the album proper - La Cucaracha which is due in the Autumn. That's bound to be the one to finally unleash the inner Ween.

#Music
#CSF

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

O'Death

Head Home

City Slang

What do you get if you cross a wailing voice, a banjo and a fiddle? This isn't a joke. Country music right? Well normally yes but in a parallel, and slightly perverse, universe the outcome is O'Death.

Listening to O'Death I'm reminded of the scene from the Blues Brothers where the band reform and secure a gig at Bob's Country Bunker. 'What kind of music do you usually have here?' asks Elwood and the response is "we have both kinds; country and western" whereupon the band are forced to launch into Stand by your Man and the theme from Rawhide before a riot ensues. To me this has always summed up country music. As an outsider it has always seemed to be something of a closed shop existing in a vacuum that fails to acknowledge or incorporate any other form of music. Those on the inside appear to know the ropes and stick to the formula - it's either plaintive songs of heartbreak of the 'stand by your man' ilk or sing-along hoe downs from the Rawhide vein.

O'Death are the outsiders who don't play by the rules, they've left the country bunker and discovered a whole other world out there. Now there is another suffix to add after country; it's not just 'and western' because to the musical lexicon O'Death have introduced 'country and gothic punk'. Based in New York, these are rural boys embracing the attitude of the big city. Theirs' is a sound not so much for barn dances on Walton mountain but mosh pits with the characters from Deliverance on the Texas Chainsaw Massacre farm. This is the riot at Bob's Country Bunker in musical form.

It is an edgy and at moments slightly disturbing journey but O'Death is a travelling carnival of infectious energy. Their relentless refusal to charm is charming in itself and if you get it then it rocks! Melody is certainly not sacrificed.  Most tunes being of the foot stomping variety rest on beats that recall Iggy and the Stooges. These songs could've been penned by Tom Waits imagining them being delivered by a voice that at times could belong to either Frank Black, Jack White or Neil Young. At the end of this barn dance you can imagine that someone has spilt volatile moonshine over a hay bale. A stray cigarette thrown away by the fiddler has caused a fire and the band have to make a sharp exit on the back of a pick up truck. The locals elders are up in arms bemoaning the trail of destruction but the kids have had their eyes opened and will never be the same again.

#Music
#Muxloe

23rd 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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#LG

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

Monkey: Journey to the West

Palace Theatre, Manchester

The flagship event of the Manchester International Festival is an ambitious one: An opera with music by Damon Albarn, designs by Jamie Hewlett and direction by Chen Shi-Zheng entirely in Mandarin. The two-hour work involves a cast of 45-odd martial artists, acrobats and singers - and in the case of Fei Yang, who plays Monkey, often all three simultaneously.

The event is nothing short of spectacular. The opening sequence, with animations by Hewlett, which deals with Monkey's birth (hatched from a giant egg, which was expelled from a great stone) is perfectly coordinated with the live music. Later in the scene, which switches effortlessly to the live players, Monkey with other monkeys climbs up the bamboo trees - which is reminiscent of the scenes in Crouching Tiger and Flying Daggers, except that these people are really doing it.

The story, which many chimps will be familiar with, is a Chinese classic. Monkey is obsessed with seeking immortality and magical power, and travels over continents to find a teacher. He eventually finds Subodhi, a Taoist master, who teaches him how to fly on a magical cloud that can carry him on great distances, and the art of transforming himself into anything he wants.

He then dives into the Eastern Sea and finds the Old Dragon King to whom he boasts of his prowess and requests a weapon to equal his ability. The King gives him the magical iron rod, which can change from the size of a needle to the size of a mountain, and is so powerful it holds down the ocean floor.

Monkey travels to Heaven to demand recognition of his power, and gate crashes a birthday party for the Queen Mother of Heaven. Incensed that he was not invited along with gods and sages, he wreaks havoc - eating all of the heavenly peaches, each of which takes 9000 years to ripen and bestows an extra thousand years of life. He fights with all of the gods and sages, winning every battle, and proclaims himself a Great Sage Equal to Heaven. The Queen Mother of Heaven eventually pleads with the Great Buddha to step in to get the Monkey King under control. Monkey is imprisoned under the palm of Buddha.

Five hundred years later, the Buddha sends the goddess Guan Yin to find a believer to journey to India to bring the Holy Scriptures to China. She chooses Hsuang-tsang, a handsome, devout Buddhist monk and gives him the name Tripitaka after the Scriptures themselves. Guan Yin enlists Monkey to protect Tripitaka and they embark on their journey, finding Pigsy and Sandy on their way and offering them the chance of redemption in return for their service. They encounter many adventures and obstacles on their Journey to the West.

The text, which alternates between spoken word and song is delivered entirely in Mandarin, the inclusion of subtitles which are hard to read due to the heads of the people in front, help only a little. Surtitles wouldn't have worked here either, since the theatre has a huge amount of restricted-view seating. That aside the story is easy to follow, and it is often the case in opera, even those sung in English, that you cannot hear the words.

The sound-world is exotic and far from conventional. The orchestra consists of some western instruments - 2 violins, cello, trumpet, trombones, tuba and percussion - as well as instruments from China such as the Pipa, Zhongruan and Zheng, which are all string instruments. Damon Albarn also includes a substantial amount of electronics, including an Ondes Martenot (as used extensively by Jonny Greenwood), and keyboards. Also in the pit are 9 singers who contribute to the overall sound, often wordlessly. All of the music is amplified too, which adds a further dimension to the sound. The entire opera is held together by the young conductor André de Ridder, who can be seen cueing the singers on stage - often whilst they are suspended mid-air, mid-flight and mid-fight.

The music is a mixture of Ennio Morricone (particularly Farewell to Cheyenne, from Once Upon a Time in the West), Philip Glass (circa Koyaanisqatsi), and Tibetan Buddhist chant. Albarn manages also to avoid writing music that sounds Chinese, whilst simultaneously doing exactly that. His gift for melody and riff-making are also pleasingly evident here.

Taken as a whole, then, this opera does what opera should do at its best - it entirely captivates for the duration of the show. I was completely caught up in the story, the music, the animation and the action on stage. I couldn't help thinking though, whether this opera was successful because of the huge spectacle, and if the lavish production was stripped away it would be as impressive. It is certainly as big a production as those found at the Met in New York, or the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden.

Rumour has it that the production will be transferred to London at some point. It moves to the Théâtre du Chatelet in Paris from late September. I saw cinematographer Christopher Doyle after the show, perhaps he will be making a DVD of this run. Definitely worth seeing.

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#cnrth

5th Jul 2007 - 6 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Broken Family Band

Hello Love

Track & Field

2006's release made it quite clear that Balls wasn't just a catchy title but a manifesto, a mission statement declaring that there was a new sheriff in town and his name was rock. With the latest album Hello Love the plan remains the same and although the steps forward aren't as big as Balls it still moves this band a healthy distance away from their alt-country roots. Not that these roots are something to be disassociated with but the increase in volume and intensity that has occurred over these last two albums have moulded this band into a force to be reckoned with and the country twang which is still very much present but now given extra bite is all the more potent a vehicle to deliver their brand of forked-tongue love poetry. Front man Steven Adams says of this rock element, "We like the fact that we're getting heavier with each record and we all enjoy hitting our things hard. Ten years in, we'll sound like The Bronx."

This comment says a lot about this band. They know where they're going but have no intention of hurrying to get there and from the start this has been their charm. They have a refreshingly light-hearted approach to music and though this album could see them adopting a slightly more serious approach by a: toning down the whole 'Cambridge boys do Nashville' thing and b: singing more about love as opposed to hate the fun and frolics are still kicking about.

Things pretty much continue on from where they left off in 2005. The record hits the ground running with Leaps. Adams' vocals start straight off the bat with the first beat of the drum and we're off and loving it. First single Love Your Man, Love Your Woman is the flagship song on this album. It's got all the balls of the previous record with its stomping drum structure that builds to a shrieking repeated chorus, screeching guitars and thrashing cymbals.

After all the acerbic words of jilted love Adams has penned in the past So Many Lovers sees a certain degree of positivity through hindsight with the line "You should be happy to be among the infinite number of people who have loved and lost." The new softening up is also reflected by the dreamy female backing vocals on songs like Julian and the beautiful You Get Me.

Someone has clearly melted the jaded heart of this band for them to produce such strong declarations of love and with this grand thaw we get honesty such as Dancing On The 4th Floor with its admission "Nearly all the songs are lies except this one." So Hello Love is a duel personality with the softness of this new acceptance of love and the hard musical muscle of some of the more rockier tracks. The result is an ever approaching fullness to this band's sound and their road map to The Bronx may be a long one but the journey has already started well and in the words of Hey Captain "All of us on board believe in you."

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#BC

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

Black Milk

Popular Demand

Fat Beats

Though 2005 saw Black Milk release Sounds Of The City he then signed to Fat Beats, making Popular Demand his official debut. Recalling the late, great J Dilla in its looped soul melodies and hollow beats, Popular Demand signals a welcome return to grass roots hip hop. Featuring a whole host of local Detroit heavyweights from Slum Village to Guilty Simpson, producer/MC Curtis Cross has delivered an intelligent record with tight beats and easy-flow rhymes.

After a slow start with the title track, Sound The Alarm is an early highlight with its slow crunching beat and reverberating baseline. Guilty Simpson's deadly serious delivery bumps hard alongside Black Milk's layered production which loops perfectly around the beat. The tempo is stepped up for the next track Insane, a jumped-up, intricately constructed beat that backs up Black Milk's effortless flow.

Popular Demand is a well paced ride with frequent instrumental interludes like the expertly crafted, sample heavy Play The Keys and slower rhymed cuts like the soulful Three+Sum allowing welcome relief from the big beats of tracks like the album highlight Watch 'Em. Here Que Diesel and Fat Ray create a glorious piece of hip hop fitting each rhyme into the rolling, hand-clapped beat with its stop/start confidence that just keeps on bumpin.

There has been much talk about this young talent filling the shoes of fellow Detroit mastermind Dilla and this album shows him more than capable of carrying this mantle. In fact Cross seems more comfortable in front of the mic than Dilla did sculpting his production perfectly to fit his rhyming style. Following in the footsteps of bigwigs like Jay Z or Kanye West and younger MC's like Lupe Fiasco Black Milk is the real deal and this record continues Detroit's underground hip hop pedigree.

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30th May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Arctic Monkeys

Favourite Worst Nightmare

Domino

Last month in the sweaty temple of music known as the London Astoria I worshiped at the altar of the Arctic Monkeys. Their performance was a revelation that mugged me of my considerable cynicism regarding the copius plaudits given to these whipper-snappers from Sheffield. My account of that experience was the review equivalent of Belushi back flipping down the aisles when the Rev. James Brown asked of the Blues Brothers congregation 'do you see the light?' Yes, I saw the light. And like all new converts I felt an evangelical duty to spread the word. The word was that the Arctic Monkeys are the real deal. So it was with some trepidation with which I approached listening to 'Favourite Worst Nightmare.' Having become such a public zealot would I now be left with a considerable amount of egg on my face? Thankfully the answer is no. Like any belief that is successfully put to the test my faith has been affirmed and strengthened. Though this may not be their masterpiece I stand by my assertion that the Arctic Monkeys are the real deal and, so long as they remain so, it is my mission to convert every Doubting Thomas.

The difficult second album. Many a lauded and applauded act has struggled with this one. A variety of approaches have been taken in pursuit of delivering the second coming. The Gallagher approach was to give an airing to the left overs deemed not quite good enough for the debut album. Some, such as the Strokes, take a laissez faire 'if it aint broke, don't fix it' approach. The Squire and Brown tactic was to take previous success as a license for self indulgence. Others, thinking of the La's, just wilt from the pressure. Luckily, the Arctic Monkey's have avoided the pit falls that litter the paths taken by these forerunners. Their sound maintains an energy and freshness which dispels fears they may have rested on their laurels. This is a collection that varies the pace and tone to suggest that they are more than just a one trick pony while the retention of economical 3 minute songs has guarded against any over indulgence.

Just in case the listener is in any doubt about the Arctic Monkey's musical direction they deliver hellos and goodbyes which make their own intentions absolutely clear. Album opener Brianstorm offers reassurance that they won't entirely turn their backs on the floor filling anthems with which the myspace kids first fell in love. Also reassuring is the proof that their heads haven't been turned by fame; preferring to mock boys in 't-shirts and ties combinations' and girls in jacuzzis who 'lay it on a plate' rather than deigning to join them. 505, the final song of the set, however leaves the listener with a reminder that the band intend to let their sound evolve even if outright revolution isn't on the cards. The signs point to the emergence of a more measured less frantic approach. Less brash and more sophisticated. Less about bravado but more confessional. All without discarding what made them special in the first place.

Where 'Whatever You Say I Am' was all about the possibilities of the night ahead, the soundtrack to an evening of escapades on dance-floors, Favourite Worst Nightmare is the journey home. Stepping off the nightbus the streets are empty except for neon reflections in dirty puddles and the rattling sound of the kebab shop shutters being pulled down. There is an air of menace that permeates throughout. It is an album that forces you to look over the shoulder to find you're being followed by edgy riffs, eerie organs, frantic drums, aggressive bass and tales of jealous boyfriends, daggers drawn and noses broken.

The strength of the Arctic Monkey's is that there is no evident bandmaster. They are a collective or gang who back each other up and allow all members a moment in the limelight. All have a chance to shine and impress. Alex Turner is a great chronicler of our times and certainly knows how to deliver a tune but that doesn't mean the rest are his backing band - far from it. The band was famously formed after they were given guitars for Christmas and surely Santa must have also delivered a bumper book of rock n roll riffs too. The versatility of the guitar parts is dizzying; ranging from Jack White-esque axe-smithery to delicate moments like riding the surf with the Beach Boys. The rhythm section play their part too. The bass veers from bullying on 'Teddy Picker' to bouncy on 'Flourescent Adolescent' and everything is held together by drumming alternating from powerhouse to shuffling in a manner which even Remi would be proud. Fortunately when they all raise their game simultaneously such as on 'Balaclava' there is no sign of too many cooks spoiling the broth, on the contrary the mixture of ingredients is magic.

I'm not preaching here in hope of convincing you to pay alms to the Chimpomatic church only to find that I shall later misappropriate these funds for a new life in Rio. It is not an album completely immune from criticisms, though in truth this is knit-picking in order to demonstrate that I'm not just pretending that the Emperor is wearing clothes. Very occasionally as on 'If You Were There, Beware' or 'Do Me A Favour' it is easy to predict the 'here comes the rock out' bit that characterises 6th form bands. Maybe sometimes the band have taken this commission too seriously. The likes of 'The Bad Thing' and 'Flourescent Adolescent' offer a too rare glimpse into the fun that it's possible to have when you're young and in a top rock n roll act. Expectations are high and perhaps Turner over-extends himself when he ventures beyond story telling to message giving. He doesn't need to try to be the spokesman for a generation, he can afford to leave that to someone else. But seriously, that is just knit picking.

So will the Arctic Monkey's prove themselves to the doubters with Favourite Worst Nightmare? Perhaps. Is this a great album? Maybe, though not definitely. Only time can hand out such accolades but respect and kudos needs to be awarded for giving it a valiant try. Are the Arctic Monkey's a great band? Again only time will tell but Favourite Worst Nightmare at least proves that they have the nous, talent and balls to one day deserve to be heralded as such.

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#Muxloe

14th May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Low

Drums And Guns

Sup Pop

Things We Lost In The Fire was an exquisite piece of work that managed to wrap you in its melancholy, taking you deeper into its hopeless warmth and only allowing you up for air to keep you alive. 2005's The Great Destroyer saw the band take a whiplash turn of direction as they showed us that all this brooding and threatening that we had persevered with was about to pay off. They flexed their muscles and the result was awesome. So where to after this turn? The Great Destroyer was such a bold move for a band with such a distinctive back catalogue that there was no going back from it. Drums And Guns unfortunately shows Low trying to.

This starts off very slow indeed, but through Belarus Low manage to maintain a certain tension, or air of expectation. It ticks over nicely, but in classic Low style goes nowhere - and leaves you wanting more. This is to their credit, as in the past they have expertly held your attention through miles of empty, lonely terrain but as Breaker creeps in with it's subtle electronic tip toes and itself goes nowhere you start to wonder whether you have the patience for another long and desolate journey. This seems like an album of sketches, rather than finished ideas. Few of the songs have any kind of resolution and when they do, as in Your Poison, they tail off after barely a minute - while Hatchet is entirely based around a very questionable concept of "Let's bury the hatchet like The Beatles and The Stones."

The glimmers of light throughout this record are the introduction of a more electronic sound. It gives the vast sonic landscapes some definition. Always Fade has an organic, sampled beat that mirrors the muddy textures they used to create with the guitar and Breaker adopts a totally different minimal sound that supports the vocals very well.

This is by no means a bad album, but for a band from whom we expect greatness it is disappointing. They seem to be reconsidering their brave move, but finding that it took them so far away from their original position they are struggling to get back. Since I first heard this band I have been so impressed with their confidence and conviction. They were always a band that knew exactly what they were doing and when playing live they displayed a command of their audience that throughout their marathon, barren performances you could have heard a pin drop. This conviction seems to have dwindled slightly here and I can't fight the feeling of restlessness that creeps in during this record. I am in no way suggesting that I'm getting off the Low Train, but I might read my book for a while until the view changes.

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19th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Cinematic Orchestra

Ma Fleur

Ninja Tune

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

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

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

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

#Music
#BC

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

Dinosaur Jr.

Beyond

Pias

Listening to Beyond, the first album featuring the original 3 members of Dinosaur Jr (J. Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph) since 1988’s Bug (and a subsequent falling out), I was going to write at length about an old interview with Mascis on Snub TV - but, sure enough, YouTube and Wikipedia fill in the back story there. What struck me was the stark contrast between Mascis the interviewee and Mascis the musician. As he himself points out “There’s nothing going on anywhere really, so you might as well sit where you are.” I can’t imagine the Mascis School of Motivation is over subscribed, but put a guitar in the man’s hands and he’s off and running, screaming fury and love, all articulated over the space of 6 strings and a fretboard. 

This is what we want from Dinosaur Jr. Mascis’ shy, laid-back but sweet vocals, hiding behind some simply stunning electric guitar work. Extended solos and walls of effects might be the stuff of Spinal Tap gimmicks and indeed Barlow himself had a couple of digs at Mascis when first starting up ‘rival’ band Sebadoh (“Pedal hopping like a Dinosaur” he sings on Gimmie Indie Rock), but such is Mascis’ mastery that the guitar is the integral part, the character and essence of each song. Now, with Murph back behind the drums and Barlow, surely one of the hardest Bassists around (in playing, if not fighting terms), reconciled and ready to rock, the rhythm section is there to add the muscle behind Mascis’ wanderings and meanderings - you want a power trio? Here you are.

After almost 20 years apart it is in-keeping with the Mascis’ persona that the first song is called Almost Ready and yep, we’re straight into a blistering solo and ‘immediate classic’ territory.  Almost Ready kicks down the door of Indie Rock 2007 and politely screams ‘What the fuck’s up with this party?’ Less of an edge, but no slacking in quality for the poppier Crumble.  Then early favourite Pick Me Up - 6 and a half minutes and what a journey.  The opening riff could be lifted from a scene in an 80s movie, where the baddie is finally getting the upper hand, all adrenaline and activity, working through a chorus that sees Mascis singing - dueting with his guitar before concluding with a 3 minute guitar solo (that’s three minutes). Awesome.  Play it alongside No More Shoes by Stephen Malkmus to get an idea what these two heroes are all about. 

After all that hi-octane, it’s time to bring things down a bit, with Lou taking over vocal duties on Back to Your Heart.  I’m on record as a huge fan of Sebadoh and a large part of that is down to Barlow’s song writing - so when he’s backed by the power of Dinosaur Jr. it’s a no-lose situation.  This Is All I Came To Do lifts the mood again and whilst the title may or may not refer to guitar solo-work, the song contains a couple of beauties.  Drummer Murph gets to flex on Been There All the Time, laying down some powerful rolls as the band rock out. Hard. Mixing things up, they follow the harder, darker, metal-er(?) It’s Me with the light and airy We’re Not Alone and I Got Lost, which has Mascis’ falsetto voice, sitting atop acoustic guitar, tom rolls and a cello. Lou and his bass take centre-stage for Lighning Bulb before What if I Knew bids us fairwell in the way Mascis knows best…that’s right, a blistering solo.

It’s good to have them back. Since re-forming in 2005, they are amongst a very select group of bands I HAVE to see if they tour near me - and I look forward to seeing them punishing the Marshall Stacks with Beyond.

#Music
#chimpovich

30th Mar 2007 - 5 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Hotel Alexis

Goliath, I'm On Your Side

Broken Sparrow Records

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

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

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

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

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

#Music
#Muxloe

15th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Earlies

Scala, London

If it were possible to capture the screech of the last tube train on a Saturday night grinding along the rails and then morph it into an urgent melody you’d probably end up with a sound similar to Maps - support act for The Earlies’ Scala show. You’d probably be mighty glad you caught that musical tube too revelling in the cacophony rather than bemoaning Mayor Ken’s extortionate price hikes.  All of which acts as a rather neat introduction to The Earlies.
 
Anyone familiar with the ‘sardines in a can’ closeness of commuter’s bodies on a rush hour Victoria line train will have recognised the tight squeeze of fitting 11 members of this Anglo-US ‘prog-rock-folk-psych’ combo and their various musical instruments on the small Scala stage.  But rather than whinging about having someone’s arm pit in your face, ruing the look you know your boss will give you for being late or imploring the girl listening to James Blunt too loudly to turn it down this journey is nothing but a pleasure.
 
The stage might be small but the sounds, and the Earlies’ ambitions, are big. This lot don’t do things by halves. Why have one drummer, flutist or melodica player when you can have two? Where other acts might drown each other out or trample on each other’s toes the Earlies just egg each other on to better things. They’re like kids daring each other to jump from an ever-higher branch of a tree.  And all this is delivered with such child–like earthy warmth; introducing No Love they announce ‘this song is about love and shit’. No need to apologise for the ‘shit’ when love is expressed as sweetly as this!
 
The sound, and indeed image, of The Earlies is of an overgrown school orchestra. The music teacher has nipped out into the corridor to sort out a fight and so left to their own devices the kids rock out to the sounds that please them most. Think of the opening to The Simpsons – the part where Lisa stuns the rest of the orchestra to silence by veering off into a freeform Sax solo. The Earlies are only the orchestra that Lisa deserved. They would have had the gumption to stick with her, providing the accompaniment to whatever musical imaginations she might have conjured.  Singing ‘it’s alright to let yourself down tonight’ your reviewer was tempted to reach out to tap the ‘fists aloft’ guitar player on the shoulder and say ‘don’t worry mate, you’ve no let anyone down tonight’.  Check em out, you won’t be disappointed.  

#Music
#Gig
#Muxloe

7th Mar 2007 - 6 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Wires On Fire

Wires On Fire

Buddyhead

Ever since the mid-80's - when those two school buses carrying the Punks and the Metalheads crashed on the way to the high school - LA seems to have cornered the market on a certain genre of music. You could describe it as punk influenced metal, maybe with a touch of West Hollywood sleaze. Sure the genre is long out of high school now, probably driving it's own muscle car around town - but the agenda is still the same.

Following in the steps of the likes of The Bronx and The Warlocks, Wires On Fire are a pretty incendiary bunch - and it's no surprise to find out they are on tough talking and generally entertaining website/label Buddyhead. Hard and heavy, this is punk sensibilities with a penchant for guitar solos. You know they're going to rock live, but for this debut they've just laid down a sold album with some promise.

C+ (2.5 stars in chimp terms). Has potential, but could try harder.

#Music
#CSF

24th Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

300

(dir. Zach Snyder)

Enjoyable macho action that's basically one very long, very crunchy fight scene. Not sure how historically accurate any of this is, but it's the story of 300 buff sixpack Spartans fending off some extras from the dark hordes of Lord Of The Rings (aka Persia).

Based on the Frank Miller graphic novel, it's shot in a similar style to Sin City, and employs the same washed-out digital grainy aesthetic. It's also got the same slim connection to reality - this is heightened everything, everywhere. They shout SPAAAAAAAAAAARTAAAA as often as possible, and make a proto-fascist case for sticking together with your friends and family (as long as they're not born deformed, in which case it's prudent to chuck them out of town asap).

Gerard Butler is the superbuff Spartan leader. He's been the Phantom in The Phantom Of The Opera, Dracula in Dracula 2000 and Attila the Hun in Attila so he's obviously into his historical roles. Lena Headey is the rather unelegantly named Queen Gorgo keeping the Spartan home fires spartan. Weirdest casting for Chimpomatic readers will be The Wire's Dominic West - yes, if you've ever wondered what good po-lice McNulty would look like with long hair and his shirt off, here's your chance.

It's all pretty silly - and vaguely offensive in its depection of the Persians as a horde of unreconstructed "Others" - but carried off with a kind of unpretentious conviction: it sets out to make a crunchy bloodthirsty action blowout, and it succeeds. It's also told from a "here's a story about a legend" perspective, and doesn't really pretend to be anything like a historically accurate account. Apparently they borrowed some swords and stuff from Troy, but it's nowhere near as boring.

#Film
#chimp71

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