Chimpomatic

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

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The Ponys

Water Rats, London

"Ok. Back to the real shit"

Close to the end of their set, guitar problems forced an awkward foray into Michael Jackson jokes for Pony's frontman Jered Gummere. Once remedied it was very much back to the real shit indeed. The four-piece from Chicago are clearly more comfortable with rock n roll than stand-up and with a sound as huge as theirs, that musical confidence is not misplaced.  Largely working through their recent, third and great album Turn the Lights Out, they filled the room with distortion, reverb and no small amount of psychedelic vibes, before ending as hoped and expected with album closer Pickpocket Song.

Whether it was down to time constraints, or I was just having too much of a good time, it felt like they cut short the rockout jam at the end of Pickpocket Song.  Infact, there were quite a few songs that felt shorter live than on record; but that's no critcism - there was no shortchange in the amount of energy from the band.  I'm hoping The Ponys will be around for a while and if they are, their sound will be hugging the walls of bigger venues than the Water Rats in the future. It was a privilege to check them and their real shit out - up close and intimate.

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12th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Dan Deacon

Spiderman Of The Rings

Car Park

You know that scene in The Man With Two Brains where Steve Martin tries to disrupt Dr. Necessater's brain transfer operation and gets electrocuted and somehow enters a video game and gets all robotic, then becomes the ball in a pin-ball machine and bounces around the pins maniacally laughing. Well Dan Deacon's Spiderman Of The Rings is the listening equivalent of that scene. Hailing from Baltimore, this album is the twisted work of a man who sounds as if he's abducted the members of Grandaddy, Aphex Twin and the cute little chipmunks Chip and Dale, strapped on some contraption that sucks out their dreams and nightmares and filters them all through a sampling machine. In order to proceed with this review I will need you to forget I ever mentioned Grandaddy or Aphex Twin as this sounds nothing like either of them although Chip and Dale are a definite influence I believe.

The opening track Woody Woodpecker is obviously designed to separate the casual listener from the hardened ear as its sampled trademark laugh by the famous cartoon character is the basis for the song and is about as irritating as the original. But if you can get past this there are rewards ahead.

The Crystal Cat sets its sights skyward and the course is set throughout its driving beat and lightning lyrical delivery while Wham City can afford to take its time having over 11 minutes to play with. Tip-toeing in like the intro to a Cafe Del Mar album it gradually starts pounding, introducing the chanting mish-mash of vocals. This basically drives forever onwards with all manner of bleeps and soaring synths to eventually fade out and be replaced by what seems to be a new track. But after further synthetic pummeling the chanting vocals join the throng and we are once again reunited with the earlier half and are left aghast that we have been listening to one track for the last 11 minutes. It's awesome.

Okie Dokie sounds like a chip-monk play pen, so does Trippy Green Skull - though this time they're all possessed and as a contrast we get the sublime instrumental Pink Batman which could be a Philip Glass soundtrack wrapped in candy.

You really can't relax with this record as around every corner is yet another test of our willingness to listen but quite often these moments build to an almost unbearable level of annoyance then suddenly cut to almost euphoric moments of lyrical genius that we almost forget that we were about to smash up the stereo. Discounting the final track which must be what it's like to be trapped on a bus at school kicking out time with every kid trying out a new ring-tone this album is curiously appealing. Its like being told a joke as a kid and though not getting it at all you walk away laughing feeling strangely smug having been told it.

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7th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Alex Delivery

Star Destroyer

This new release from the always-worth-a-listen Jagjaguwar label is a curious little thing indeed. It's packed full of fractured beats and trickling melodies that all struggle to be heard amid the ever-present fog of noise that make up this intriguing collection of songs. New York's Alex Delivery have here a fuzzy blend of prog rock, Krautrock and Brighton rock mixing spacey distortion with deafening drums, mumbled vocals and delicate melodies that seem to emerge from disused seaside piers or children's playgrounds.

Self-sabotage is also a favored method here as on the opening track Komad. At just over 10 minutes this song treads the fine line between an utter captivating courage to set up a glorious song structure only to completely demolish it and an irritating tendency to never give you what you think you want. Like a rusty swing in a disused playground this song creeks into view only to be joined by crashing drums and frontman Robert Lombardo's gritty vocals. The swing keeps on creaking for about 5 more minutes until it slowly morphs into a field of distorted synths and muffled beats. Rainbows lays down a bed of delicate clicks that sound like millions of sampled insects then scatters over the top an achingly nostalgic melody. Lombardo's vocals shuffle through all this in a lazy manner but you can rest assured that its the scratchy insect noises that eventually win out and the melody is soon confined to a distant memory.

Scotty is the sound of a crippled merry-go-round on board a sinking oil tanker, its sweet, playful loops barely audible over the crashing sounds all around. But then Sheath-Wet seems to hint at this merry-go-round staging something of a resurrection as its melody rises slowly from the depths, joined by the clumsy clattering of various hard surfaces this plods on for over 11 minutes with vocals drifting in whenever they can be bothered. I don't mean in any way to sound negative about this approach as it is strangely beguiling and if you stick with this song you never want it to finish and at some points you wonder if it ever will. It loops round in a hypnotic, self absorbed fuzz like a child spinning around, eventually losing balance.

As the art work suggests this record has an other-worldly feeling, often mirroring the illogical structure of a dream where nothing seems to fit together but the more time you spend with it the more this disconnection seems to make sense. Until, that is, you try to explain it to someone once it's finished and they look at you blankly, waiting for you to stop. A bit like what I'm trying to do now so I'll shut up and let you experience it for yourself on my recommendation. (I think.)

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5th Jun 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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Dizzee Rascal

Maths & English

XL

My my, hasn't he grown. The third album from the young up-start sees age and experience add eight to his still gritty rhyme style. The blueprint is still the same since his 2003 Mercury Prize inning debut Boy In Da Corner but with the gift of hindsight he is able to craft a much fuller ecord not just in content but also in style enlisting the help of US rappers Bun B and Pimp C, Shy FX and finishing off with an all UK line up of Alex Turner and Lily Allen.

This new maturity is expressed from the outset with World Outside where Dizzee illuminates the importance of seeing the bigger picture that lies beyond both his fame and the ghetto roots that he has come from. You can almost hear Earl's brother look up from his beer with the start of the next track Pussyole saying "Tell me they didn't just go oldskool." Here Dizzee raps furiously over the awesome Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock beat bringing a fresh dose of grime to this classic. Where's Da G's questions fake gangsters while Bubbles is a full-on dick swinging boast-fest about Dizzee's success. But you can't argue with a word he says here as it's all true, it's all to be applauded and it's all rhymed over the tightest production.

Tracks like Hardback (Industry) illustrate just how far this MC has come. This song sounds like Dizzee Rascal's pitch at a school careers evening explaining the pitfalls of making it big in the music industry as he dishes out advice over a deep, booming beat. It's the stark contrast of tracks like this and the ego filled, abrasive moments like first single Sirens and album closer U Can't Tell Me Nuffin' that make this record so appealing. On Suk My Dick Dizzee claims "When I was a kid I had a chip upon my shoulder but it aint getting better as I am getting older." This is so true and somewhere in this line lies the success of Maths & English. The dust certainly has settled on Dizzee's life of Grime but it is the sign of a great artist to be able to preach words of startling wisdom with honest conviction while also retaining the edge that put him at the top in the first place.

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4th Jun 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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Elvis Perkins

Ash Wednesday

XL Recordings

I haven’t quite cracked the elusive unifying theory of why I like or dislike a certain song, but what I’ve sussed out so far is that the music I love the best is the music that makes me feel something. Be it happy or sad. I can only guess, having spoken to none of my musical icons on the subject, that such music must have been made by people who were genuinely feeling it.

After the first listen to “Ash Wednesday”, the moving debut album by Elvis Perkins, you get the impression that this man feels an awful lot of the melancholy that the age in which we live in can inspire. It might just be that the first listen to this album coincided with me turning 30 and the hangover that it brings, but it really struck a chord.

His take on alt.folk draws from other troubled troubadours both past and present. With a nod in the direction of Willy Mason, a crib sheet of cryptic Dylan poems and the warmth and feeling of Ray Lamontagne, Perkins has done his homework, but nicely woven the sources together rather than simply plagiarising the lot.

The album opens with the ace While You Were Sleeping which starts off with just his laidback vocal over his acoustic and is subtly built up to fill your speakers with some fine full blooded soul searching by voice and band alike. Those heights are briefly reached again on the excellent Moon Woman II, but the rest of the album is a more sombre and introspective affair.

Seeing him play live, as Muxloe and I did last week (supporting the aforementioned Willy Mason), he injected more joy in the performance than is present on the album. His backing band throw themselves into some of the songs with the gusto of an old rag time funeral marching band, but not losing the emotion of the songs.

After already being convinced of the album and its integrity, I learned that he lost his father (actor Anthony Perkins) to AIDS in the early nineties and that his mother was killed on board one of the planes on September 11th 2001. It suddenly became obvious that the feeling of end of the world hopelessness captured on this album is undoubtedly genuine.

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3rd Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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The Veils

Nux Vomica

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

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

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

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

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1st Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Emily Haines & The Soft Skeleton

Knives Don't Have Your Back

Drowned In Sound Recordings

As a fervent fan of the Canadian collective Broken Social Scene I've been an admirer of Emily Haines for some time. In her BSS guise she makes me swoon. Every time I hear 'Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl' from the album 'You Forgot it in People', (the stand out track from an album packed with potential stand out tracks) I wonder why they don't make more use of the mercurial Ms. Haines. Her sporadic presence in BSS always reminds me of a skillful winger stuck out on the sidelines away from the action. As an example 'Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl' reveals all that needs to be known of Emily Haines. Its all about the voice; one that makes me fall in love, believing she must be both beautiful and cool. Beautiful, because she sings like an ethereal siren. Cool, because when she sings of how 'you used to be one of the rotten ones and I liked you for that' she epitomises the existence of everyone who is, or ever was, a bona fide indie kid the world over. 'Knives Don't Have Your Back' explains why sometimes it's not always completely fulfilling to fall in love with the coolest girl around.

Some will know that Emily Haines is not only a sometime contributor to the Broken Social Scene but also the front woman of Metric, a more dancey and punky outfit which took London by storm with their live shows earlier this year. 'Knives Don't Have Your Back', her debut solo album backed by her band the Soft Skeleton, offers a collection of songs that one senses she has longed to reveal away from the limitations imposed by her alternative roles. It is essentially a series of confessions and tales of loss eeked from her soul via the conduit of a piano. This exposure is simultaneously touchingly tender and achingly painful. The obvious comparison to be made, based on fragile sentiments and confident piano loops, is with the early material of Tori Amos; though minus the melodrama. But more than any other act it is the Velvet Underground that springs to mind on first listen. Its not so much the music or attitude of Lou Reed and John Cale that this album recalls but it is the qualities, if not the actual tones, of the two female Velvets that haunts from the grave. 'Reading in Bed' and 'Our Hill' exemplify the manner in which Mo Tucker, on songs like After Hours, manged to display a femine vulnerability while 'Doctor Blind' and 'The Lottery' are reminiscent of Nico's brooding sexuality.

Just as the Velvet Underground were shot through with the energy of New York, Sigur Ros encapsulate the sound of Icelandic fjords, or the Beuna Vista Social Club are the essence of Cuba, the sound of 'Knives Don't Have Your Back' mirrors the geography of Emily Haine's Canadian homeland. The songs are so evocative of skating on frozen ponds with wintery skies and endless horizons. There are moments of absolute sublime beauty; 'Winning' and 'Nothing & Nowhere' are songs that can break your heart and then mend it in the space of just a few minutes. If you had your ipod set to shuffle and any one of these numbers came on randomly you would think that if this chosen song was representative of the whole album then 'Knives Don't Have Your Back' would warrant a rating of nothing less than 5 out of 5. There are no problems with any single one of the songs individually. They are subtley crafted with heart wrenching honesty in isolation, but stacked back to back they can leave one feeling a little cold. There is a longing for some comfort and warmth just as I imagine there would be if one fell through the ice of a frozen Canadian pond. Perhaps she is aware of this; on 'Reading in Bed' she asks 'after all the luck you've had, why are your songs so sad?' I'm still in love with Emily Haines but she's perhaps just a little bit too cool - no matter how beautiful a crisp winter morning is sometimes you just wish for the advent of some spring sunshine.

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

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Sage Francis

Human The Death Dance

Strange Famous

After hearing the opening track to the 3rd full length from this master of all things spoken I started planning my 'fallen hero' review. With a heavy heart and a heavier pen I began the obituary of this lyrical wizard, combing through his previous two albums trying to find any predictions for this untimely demise. But luckily for Sage Francis and you, my worthy readers, I am not one of these people who writes a review based on the first few tracks, because by track 3 I was beginning to mentally screw up my previous review and was only too glad to find myself back at the drawing board. Where Underground For Dummies started things off with a predictable and unimaginative back-story to Sage's hip hop pedigree Civil Disobedience restores the factory settings and it's pretty much clever wordplay and tight rhymes from here on in.

After a string of EPs it was 2002's Personal Journals that really let Sage flex his lyrical muscles. It was a dark and and gritty portrait of a man on the edge and was followed up in 2005 with the awesome A Healthy Distrust. This was an upgrade from the first album in every way. The beats were massive and the rhymes fiercer than anything that had gone before. I guess Human The Death Dance falls somewhere in between - which is no bad place to reside in the Sage back catalogue.

On A Healthy Distrust, Sage confessed to having "more back issues than Guns n' Ammo," and this album shows that few of these issues have been resolved, instead they seem to have festered and grown more potent over the years. Like friend and fellow poetic genius Buck 65, Sage Francis has always written his own rules and has never complied to any Hip Hop cliche. Instead of dick-swinging lyrics and thugged-out, self-referencing imagery we get an outpouring of anger, self-pity and cynicism slotted expertly into well crafted beats. The variety of beats here is what makes this album so listenable. Clickety Clack describes its beat perfectly while the dark and brooding Call Me Francois sounds like a Terminator chase scene.

But here's something I don't normally say in a hip hop review - it's the slow jams that really steel the show here. The best moments in the Sage Francis live show are when all the beats quit and he goes it alone. He has such lyrical dexterity - and without a beat this really shines. So the closest we get to that on a record is when the beat slows down as in Water Line or is replaced altogether by a full string section as on the epic Good Fashion. But there is a run of glory on the last four tracks starting with the album highlight Hell Of A Year. This is classic Sage Francis - slow, dark and oozing with melancholia. Few hip hop songs are about failed relationships and lost love but this is Sage's forte and the power of this song is still ringing in your ears when you get to the album closer Going Back To Rehab. This is Sage's most adventurous song yet. At just over six minutes it starts with a gentle guitar melody with Sage rhyming fluidly and venomously slowly getting fiercer and fiercer until the beat kicks in and the spit starts flying. It's an angry and powerful way to finish this super-intelligent third album and if it wasn't so damn good you'd be reaching for the phone, dialing the authorities to warn them that this guy's gonna do something bad sometime soon. But musically this isn't that time thank god and shame on me for thinking the Francis crown had slipped.

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23rd May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Wilco

Shepherd's Bush Empire, London

For a while now Wilco have been the final frontier when it comes to live music. In the last few years many of the greats have been ticked off my list and tonight the final pillar was going to fall. Wilco certainly didn't disappoint. You could divide this gig into two distinct sections - before Jeff Tweedy addressed the crowd and after. Ploughing through 3 choice cuts from the new album and some Wilco classics including I Am Trying To Break Your Heart it seemed Tweedy was here to do a professional job and get the hell out of there. Then the surprisingly charismatic frontman decided to include us in their fun and the whole night took off. And after that it went pretty much as I'd expected, which is good - as I expected nothing short of greatness.

Wilco have never been the kind of band to come out punching with soaring anthems or fancy pyrotechnics so it wasn't until mid-way through that their brilliance fully seeps in and you stand there totally porous to their genius. That's when songs like At Least That's What You Said, Hummingbird and A Shot In The Arm envelop you in their warmth and you are forever changed. Glen Kotche's drumming was, as expected, the back bone to this stunning performance, and new signing Nels Kline frequently took new tracks like Impossible Germany and the beautiful You Are My Face to dazzling heights as he frantically throttled the neck of his guitar. But it was the awesome rendition of the epic Spiders (Kidsmoke) that totally stole the show and took it stellar. I have always considered A Ghost Is Born to be Wilco's finest and this reinforced my opinion. During the 10 minute marathon of climbing guitars, heavy drumming and swirling sound effects this band became something else. This song alone puts them in their own category and though Sky Blue Sky sees them opting for time out of this category for a while their place will always be guaranteed. It was a pleasure to be in the company of this band and its music.

BC - 4 Stars

As a powerhouse band Wilco seem to be getting better and better, with some great contributions from the new boys coming up through the ranks, and notably the Clapton-suited summer signing Nels Cline up front proving some major firepower. Jeff Tweedy holds his own in a guitar duel however, of which there were plenty - mostly more full on and rocking than I could have ever anticipated.

In a live setting the quiet/loud formula of many of the tracks was more apparent - even on many pre A Ghost Is Born numbers, and certainly on beefed up renditions of some of the Sky Blue Sky highlights, such as Side With The Seeds. Many of the more low-key songs like Poor Places and Via Chicago were given a fleshed out majesty by the full band that made them sound better than ever with the finer details or the effects, keyboards and backing vocals more richly presented. Surprisingly the big stand out for me was Woody Guthries Airline to Heaven, which found the band firing on all 6 cylinders to magical effect.... and there was even room for an extra Nels Cline solo.

After the crowd got into the swing of it, Tweedy lightened up and things really picked up getting better and better. This is a man I never thought I would see doing the running man, but there you go. With two extended encores it seemed like we were in Wilco heaven, and with the introduction of Bill Fay for a rendition of his Be Not So Fearful we were provided with a touching tribute to some of the bands roots and influences. Fantastic.

CSF - 4.5 Stars

just to add to the dedicated tweedy-watchers above. for some reason i had them filed in the wrong side side of my alt country factfile for years, have to say i'm glad we've put in the conversion hours at chimp towers to get me up to speed. have only really got round to absorbing the last two albums, but enjoyed everything they played. totally concur on Spiders (Kidsmoke) being the stand-out moment - love those loooong jams where everything cruises and then explodes. Impossible Germany had a great solo to finish it off, loved the freak-out stuff on Via Chicago and that last Bill Fay track was a very sweet closer. never really noticed the beatles influence on the wilco sound before, suddenly felt like i was watching a kind of US indie version of Wings (a good thing in my book). great playing from the whole band, and good to hear a band rocking out without just turning up the amps to 11. 

brought 3 other newbies w me; all walked out converts which leads me to award a pretty conclusive...

4 Stars - c71 

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22nd May 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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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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14th May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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The National

Boxer

Beggars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Joanna Newsom

Joanna Newsom and the Ys Street Band E.P.

Drag City

Last year I incurred some major flack for rewarding Joanna Newsom a flawless 5/5 for her remarkable second album Ys. Well I still stand by that decision and am tempted to give this 3 track EP the same accolade but feel it might alienate me from my fellow chimps who are yet to discover the magic of this artist. So call it peer pressure but I will not be giving this release full marks and I am not proud of my actions because it is yet another astounding piece of work by the young harpist.

This contains one new song and two old ones. All are without the orchestra that dominated Ys and are played live with her touring band. This totally changes the songs and gives them a much more folky sound. The new song Colleen is as joyous as any Irish jig you're likely to hear and conceptually could have played quite happily on Ys. The reworking of The Milk Eyed Mender's Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie gives this song new depths by adding accompanying vocals by drummer Neil Morgan and it leads on to the stripped down version of Ys' Cosmia. This version is so impressive as it shows a drastic progression from the original sound in this short period. Using guitars and banjos this song is stripped of all it's orchestral grandeur and the result is just as moving. It has been almost doubled in length and the final half is a beautiful instrumental of harp and guitar which fades out to a whisper bringing this brief delight to a sublime close.

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8th May 2007 - 4 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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Death Vessel

Stay Close

ATP Recordings

Any band with the word ‘death’ in the title might instantly make you think: “metal”, “licks” and “German”. And, with ATPs latest act, Death Vessel, you’d be right on two counts.
 
Main man Joel Thibodeau, who was born in Deutschland, can certainly pluck some rifts out of his acoustic guitar. However, rather than turning up on Kerrang FM, his bands brand of “neo-traditional folk” is more likely to be played by Andy Kershaw on Radio 3.
 
Their 10 Track debut album, ‘Stay Close’, strays far away from any hint of “metal” with the most notable difference being the deep howl of rock vocals being replaced by the incredible soprano voice of your man Joel.
 
His voice sounds like this sentence should begin with “her voice” or end with “his balls haven’t dropped”. Seriously, it’s quite something, quite eerie, quite Sigur Ros like… or bjorkesque if, like me, you think you’ve been lied to on the press release. Whatever though, his voice is, as they might say in the deep south, purty.
 
The deep south reference not only serves to make me chuckle, but also hints at the type of tunes you’re getting here - you should prepare yourself for some proper rambling hoe downs. A majority of the tracks bounce cheerfully along with a country feel to it, and that vibe is strongest on ‘Mandan Dink’ where both banjos and vocals duel in this playful ruck up. In fact, the vocal harmonies act as confederate flags for the better parts of the album - such as on ‘Later In Life Lift’ and ‘Break The Empress Crown’.
 
The finest song on the album though, ‘Snow Don’t Fall’, reinforces that when Death Vessel keep it to a simple, sparse, atmospheric arrangement, the stage is set for some lovely guitar work to compliment Thibodeaus’ unique vocals.
 
While there are a few moments where you’re left wishing they would step it up a notch, enough of the tunes on this inventive album get stuck in your head to make this one ‘stay close’ to the top of the CD pile for a while.

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4th May 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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Feist

The Reminder

Universal

You may not have heard of Leslie Feist, but you will have undoubtedly heard her in one form or another. A chameleon of the indie world, her file is about an inch thick - ranging from a stint as Peaches flat mate, through collaborations with Gonzales and Jamie Lidell to her most recognised role as a contributor to the sprawling Canadian folk collective Broken Social Scene.

With new album The Reminder, Feist is setting out on her own for the third time - although even with some major label backing things haven't solidified any more. The slightly schizophrenic style of this multi-tasker is still the main way of describing her sound (Pitchfork described it as "folky, discoy" - but even that barely scratches the surface). Slipping between heartbreaking vocals (The Park), haunting piano (The Water), and a couple of Róisín Murphy style indie-dance (some might say folky-discoy) numbers in the shape of Sealion and the slightly more focused stand-out track, single My Moon My Man.

Acoustic guitars and hand claps dominate Past In Present, which somehow reminds me of Boys Of Summer in the best possible way. "Don't look back, you can never look back!"  When the dust settles however It's the sparse vocal tracks that really grab the attention here, and when the mood catches you this can be an enchanting album - with album closer How My Heart Behaves stealing the show (...not including the pointless 'bonus track' a live version of one we heard about 5 minutes ago - why do they bother breaking up the flow of an album with these things?).


You can check out three 'webisodes' for the album at the links below:

The Water
The Park
My Moon My Man

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27th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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The Maccabees

Colour It In

Polydor

“Latchmere’s got a Wave Machine”. 

Not only a statement of fact, but possibly the most brilliantly inane lyric of the summer and most definitely the only lyric in honour of the same South London sports centre where members of the Chimpomatic staff regularly re-write the 5-aside football rule book.

A song about a sports centre.  And quite openly too: “Speedos speed by. Remember to stay in your lanes. No Heavy Petting.” just a sample of singer Orlando Weeks’ poetry on track 4 (Latchmere) from Colour It In, the debut album from this Clapham 5 piece (now relocated to Brighton).

The Maccabees cast a pretty narrow net lyrically; focusing on that period of late teens/early 20s (unsurprising considering they weigh in at an average age of 21) which with hindsight are glorious and carefree, but at the time can be overcast with trivial doubts and worries.  Colour It In captures the energy, exuberance and innocence of this time, but is not a naïve album. 

Whilst the hefty chip on my shoulder makes me naturally cautious of a band made up of an Orlando, Felix, Hugo, Rupert and a Robert Dylan Thomas, I’m a sucker for a dose of that post-Strokes, tight guitared-pop and Colour It In’s sheer enthusiasm chipped away at my cynicism after a couple of listens.  They pad tracks 3 through 7 with the stronger single-ish songs All In Your Rows, Latchmere, About Your Dress (see a video clip here) and Precious Time -  all of which got my feet tapping, so god knows how the less world-weary kids are keeping still, whilst the supporting songs hold their own and keep up the vibe.

The Maccabees may well go down the Razorlight route of wankerworm or they might dissapear without trace, but there is no denying that Colour It In is a confident and enjoyable debut, that will most likely be unavoidable this summer.  It may not last the test of time, but like any good summer romance it’s the excitement of the now that matters. If you are too old to get to a wave machine for your summer kicks; a few beers, a spot of sun and Colour It In might just do the trick.

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27th Apr 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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The Kissaway Trail

The Kissaway Trail

Bella Union

It is a phenomenon of the music business that for every great band they discover music lovers have to suffer a wave of mediocrity trailing in their hero's wake. For every Stone Roses there is a Flowered Up, for every Oasis there follows a Northern Uproar, for every Blur there is a Menswear swimming in the slipstream, for every Nirvana a Stone Temple Pilots, for every Kylie in the spotlight there lurks a Lisa Scott Lee in the shadows…. you get the picture. Is it that these bands strive to replicate a formula that is proven to bring success and acclaim or just that record companies actively seek out sound-a-likes of the big buzz band of the moment? I’m not sure, but we can all recall the process; the NME big up this new band and mates pass on a copy of the album like pushers of illegal substances. ‘Go on, you loved Nirvana/Oasis so you’ll definitely love these lot, go on give it a try, go on.’ You’re initially willing to believe that these new lot will be the bona fide real deal before the excitement of the scene dies down and time confirms that they are little more than cheap tribute acts. To the pantheon of such acts can now be added the name of the Danish group The Kissaway Trail. This is a band that will be pushed to you on the basis that ‘if you loved Arcade Fire, you’ll love this lot, go on give it a try, go on….’

Except here’s the thing, The Kissaway Trail are not Arcade Fire. That’s all well and dandy of course, lots of good acts aren’t but the problem lies in the fact that though they may sound similar to the Canadian maestros of the moment, the album they’ve produced is just not particularly good. The Kissaway Trail certainly check all the right boxes. Urgent percussion, tick. Lush strings, tick. Soaring choruses, tick. But they don’t work together in a way that one would expect. It is like mixing ingredients in a bowl and expecting to pull a nicely risen wholemeal farmhouse loaf from the oven only to find that it is actually white Nan bread. Maybe for a debut album comparisons with established acts are harsh but as the Kissaway Trail are trading on them it is only fair to make a few. Tracy with its premature climax lacks the stamina and passion of Arcade Fire, Smother+Evil=Hurt fails to reach the dizzying heights of euphoria the Polyphonic Spree are tuned into and La La Song could do with an extra sprinkling of the Flaming Lips genuine, rather than expedient, eccentricity. This collection of songs all feels just a little too contrived and frankly boring.

Word is that the Kissaway Trail rock on stage, and they certainly have a few tricks up their sleeve offering some promise of a bright future if only they can find their own distinct sound. They certainly aren’t as lame as Menswear or desperate as Lisa Scott Lee but though the NME might currently tell you differently the fear remains that the Kissaway Trail could end up being remembered in the same bracket as Northern Uproar, Stone Temple Pilots and the like.

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27th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Bright Eyes

Cassadaga

Universal

The 7th installment by Conor Oberst's Bright Eyes sees them open everything up with a more expansive and altogether grander outlook taking precedence. Named after a Florida town visited by Oberst to consult spiritual mediums, Cassadaga aims at the grandeur of a modern American classic. Unlike the work of many 27 year-olds it's possible to plot an artistic progression through the work of this man and see that this album is the coming together of many facets of his life. Early albums like the fantastic Fevers & Mirrors ride on a tense balance of frail whispered devotions of love to impassioned shrieks of hatred while 2005's Digital Ash In A Digital Urn embraced a more electronic sound in its production. Cassadaga acts as the melting pot for all this history including Oberst's recent opposition to anything Bush. The result is a well rounded if not slightly diluted depiction of the present day Oberst and his country.

The success of the Bright Eyes sound is down to simple song writing. Oberst is undoubtedly a complex character but this rarely complicates the songs. If The Brakeman Turns My Way and Middleman are what this band is built on. As usual, Oberst's lyrics are dark and brooding but there is a hope in these songs that coupled with the steady, soaring melody make something swell in your heart. He injects an ambiguity into his poetry mixing gritty realism with hopelessly romantic imagery. His music references time-honored song writing traditions but at the same time is fiercely contemporary. Having said that, the low point of the album comes in the form of the Soul Singer In A Session Band and its a rare moment where we see obvious song writing and dull lyrics.

The band has grown considerably since 2005's double bill release and the string section and soaring backing vocals on many tracks are what really separates this from previous works. Nowhere is this seen more powerfully than on the album highlight No One Would Riot For Less. Oberst's quivering voice mirrors the delicate guitar picking that accompanies it. His protagonists, playing out tales of inevitable death, are comforted by the line "Love me now, help is coming," and from the distance an angelic, female voice can be heard. The strings gently pick things up and carry them away to heights rarely seen by this band.

Most bands reach a point where the far ends of their creative leanings converge together and when this happens the result is often a more well rounded, comprehensive whole but also a leveling out that can round off edges and dilute extremes. At times Cassadaga sounds like Bright Eyes have reached this point. The bitter edge to the Oberst tongue seen on Fevers & Mirrors has been on the way out since 2005's I'm Wide, Awake It's Morning and is obviously being vented in his Desparecidos punk-rock side project. Since his scathing attack on the Bush administration in the song When The President Talks To God, Oberst has become a figurehead for the protest song and though I didn't want this album to be plagued with anti-war imagery the moments where this is addressed are quite feeble compared to the venom of his previous song. Claims that the country is being run by a madman and comparisons to soldiers and insects are nothing we don't already know and not what we have come to expect from this lyricist. To criticize an album for not enough political opinion seems ludicrous but in an age where every cretin is shouting empty, anti establishment noise we need artists like Oberst who don't speak like they have a media reputation to protect and who above all have the ability to express an honest and important opinion.

But in his defense, as you pull back from this album you see that as a whole Cassadaga manages to paint a very real and intelligent picture of America today with all its hopes and fears. In the sweeping orchestral grandeur we see the vast open planes of the American landscape and crouching somewhere within the frail voice of Oberst himself we see the fragility of his country and the uncertainty of its future. 2005's double release was a special moment for this band and though Cassadaga doesn't live up to either of those albums it is still a worthy follow up.

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16th Apr 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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Patti Smith

Twelve

Columbia

2005's Meltdown: Songs of Experience should have provided a few clues, but Patti Smith's highly rated Horses show at the same festival suggested she still had game.

The New York avant-garde punker returns here with a 12 track covers album, inventively called "Twelve", showing both the roots and modern tastes of the musical legend. Sadly, it's a depressingly familiar affair, with un-inventive renditions of predictable tunes such as White Rabbit, Are You Experienced?, Gimme Shelter or Soul Kitchen.

Helpless is the closest thing to vaguely interesting, mainly because it's such a simple song it seems hard for a good voice like Patti's to drop the ball. Dylan's Changing Of The Guards is passable, mainly as I'm not so familiar with that song. Smells Like Teen Spirit is totally out of touch, while Gangsta's Paradise is just embarrassing.

Unless you like listening to passable karaoke stay well clear.

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16th Apr 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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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.

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

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Desert Hearts

Proud Galleries, Camden, London

The tradition of live music in art spaces is a cool one that dates back to the Exploding Plastic Inevitable when the Velvet Underground showcased new tunes to the freaks and beautiful people of Warhol's Factory crowd. The Proud Gallery in Camden with its tardis-esque roof space is certainly a cool venue and perfect for such a balmy evening. But don't the patrons just know it. Cool enough to attract the beautiful people that's for sure but the only freaky thing about them was their preference for supping overpriced bottled beer rather than enjoying the bands on offer. A fear that this may be a night of style over substance was fuelled by the furniture on terrace. The canvas deck chairs displayed pictures of such icons as Marc Bolan, Jim Morrison, Gene Simmons and Pete Doherty – the impression was that the likes of Pete Townsend, Angus Scott or John Cale would not have been fashionably stylish enough for parking the posteriors of this crowd.

Such suspicions threatened to be confirmed by night's first act - Tiny Masters of Today. The guitarist wore a t-shirt emblazoned with a large number '12' which neatly worked out to be the average age of the bands stars, 11 year old Ada and her brother 13 year old Ivan, endorsed by such luminaries as Bowie and Karen O. (The trio was completed by Russell Simins, drummer from the John Spencer Blues Explosion.) Initially it was hard to decide if this was a grotesque gimmick or an inspired vision of the future. Considering that they hail from Brooklyn and were playing to a room full of Camden Trendys at least twice their age, the assertion of one chorus that 'all my friends are here with me' seemed a little bit weird and sad. But fair play to Tiny Masters of Today they proved themselves to be more than just a novelty with a tight live act and a couple of joyously rockin' tunes. Their finale of a cover of House of Pain's Jump was anything but grotesque and did indeed border on inspired. Ada even told us that 'this is a real song' as if the Camden crowd didn't know it.

Next act The Invention, fronted by a singer my companion described as like Eddie Vedder on speed, gave their all for a dedicated following. Most couldn't be drawn away from their lime topped beers but the committed fans didn't care singing along to all the songs and while not exactly liking to shoot guns nevertheless showing themselves to be pretty dangerous with flailing elbows.

And then there were the Desert Hearts. The faces of Ada and Ivan might one day feature on art gallery deck chairs after pricking the top 40 a couple of times, but one imagines that even with sales outstripping Elvis the Desert Hearts with beards and grungy cardigans will never be icons to the beautiful people. In any case they'd be wasted on this bunch. After a frantic opening they asked of the smattering of people bothered to take an interest in them 'so is this how it is in London?' - the answer was muted silence but should have been a reassuring 'no this is how it is in an art gallery in Camden'.

Sharing a producer on their most recent album Hotsy Totsy Nagasaki with Mogwai and Arab Strap, the Desert Hearts can be seen as part of this Celtic lineage. Where Arab Strap might be a contemplative sulk and Mogwai the pre-row brood on tonight's performance Desert Hearts are the tantrum and argument itself. They wanted to play a laid back set, explaining this was because 'we're fucked' but instead delivered a 'rifftastic' set of urgent guitars and driving drums which shook the stage if not the whole venue. By the end of their set the crowd had swollen by the passionate sound of the Desert Hearts but still many of the beautiful people drank their cocktails on those deckchairs. For those freaky enough to enquire what was going down on stage it was a triumph for substance over style.

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10th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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El-P

I'll Sleep When You're Dead

Def Jux

2007, and The El-P show is in town once again and as usual it's tooled up ready for an all out assault on just about anything. It's hard to believe that this is only the second full length from the Def Jux label boss as he has been widely regarded as the unofficial king of the underground for a decade now.

It's been almost 5 years since the awesome Fantastic Damage and all the events both artistic and political that have occurred for El-P during this time have left their mark on this record. He has crossed musical paths with a whole host of artists over the years and the result is an album packed full of guest contributions by the likes of Cat Power, Mars Volta and NIN's Trent Reznor. Refreshingly though, none of these are mentioned as 'featuring' on the track-list as explained eloquently here by the man himself. "It's the Southpark theory: When George Clooney appeared on Southpark, it was as a gay dog. That's the type of shit that makes my day." He also delivered 2004's Blue Series fringe jazz project High Water which just contributes to the ever widening artistic pallet of this man.

El-P's political leanings are slightly less tangable. He sure ain't no Republican, but his venomous world view is disguised so expertly in the abstract lyrics that the general feeling of rage and well placed, intelligent scorn is a whole lot more powerful than direct spitting. But where this record differs from it's predecessor is in scale. Politically the world is a very different place now compared to 2002 and though Fantastic Damage was a pretty angry record, this one seems to have a much larger agenda . If his debut was the venting of personal hatred the followup is global and from the outset it's awesomely clear that El Producto is definitely back up in this ma fucka.

Tasmanian Pain Coaster starts things off on a scale that is rarely matched  on the rest of the record. It's big and it's scary. It's the sound of an army stamping its steel toe-capped boots to the beat, the looped piano is a call to arms. This opener is the unequivocal sound of a disaffected people marching to war and they march here in awesome numbers and with a power that is breathtaking. With Mars Volta and Matt Sweeney adding guitars to this melting pot of rage this is a force to be reckoned with. The unique thing about any record by El-P is it's ambiguity and irony. You never know when he's being serious or not. After this opener comes to an end and every hair on your body is tingling from a mixture of fear and excitement he starts the next song with the words "Bring me the dramatic intro machine," rendering this huge beginning mere irony and any power you drew from it now makes you feel a bit stupid and gullible. This is both annoying and impressive. It makes you wake up and realise that you're not listening to a normal hip hop record that can be allowed to wash over you with head nodding beats and empty lyrics. This is different and should be questioned at all times and it certainly isn't about to give up the booty this early on in the date.

So on we tread with our feet firmly on the ground. EMG uses a classic "Rock The Bells" beat and in it's Hip Hop hall of fame name-checking we see more of El-P's irony being exorcised on his very own genre. Drive sees El at his lyrical best. Using the car metaphor he gives a pretty bleak outlook on the world today. Starting with the lyric "C'mon Ma, can I borrow the keys, my generation's car-pooling with doom and disease," everything from "Jesus of Nascarith" to Falujah is put through this metaphor, and it's awesome. Flyentology creatively describes the new religion of doomed air travel, "faith v's physics," describing a plummeting plane as "the vessel of my awakening."

The album is put to bed with El-P's dystopian lullaby with Cat Power on backing vocals. Throughout this seven minute closer the beat oozes the boom of apocalyptic doom, the layered production and non-stop rhyming is very claustrophobic until everything is wiped away leaving a dirty looped beat to see us through to the end. The delicate keyboard that rides this beat  seems to lull us to sleep, but I fear it's the sleep of the dead not the peaceful.

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4th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Modest Mouse

We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

Epic

2004's Good News For People Who Love Bad News catapulted this band into the mainstream, earning them two Grammy nominations and selling over 1.6 million copies worldwide. Lead single Float On was given ample airplay and longtime fans held their breath to see if this stardom would be the end of the band. Thankfully We Were dead Before The Ship Even Sank shows them having weathered the storm beautifully. It's as fierce, original and furious as anything that's gone before and then some. Perhaps the addition of Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr to the lineup is what's provided these songs with a fresh sense of melody.

After a somewhat lackluster opener, Dashboard is where this record really introduces itself. It stomps around arrogantly with foot-tapping ease, the beat pounding under swathes of strings and a glorious trumpet fanfare. Fire It Up has all the soaring, skyward swagger of Float On, while Parting Of The Sensory pretty much sums up why this album is so good. It ambles along for the most part with a menacing and brooding shuffling of the feet, but slowly getting faster and more intense until it evolves into a drum pounding, fiddle frenzied tirade of "someday you will die somehow and somethings gonna steal your carbon." This song displays the raw edge of this band and their ability to keep this rawness under wraps but always have it looming. When it's unleashed, singer Isaac Brock's strained and maniacal voice spits a venom so powerful it's hard to imagine it comes from anywhere contrived.

Fly Trapped In A Jar has Marr's expansive and solid guitar sound driving the song to fantastic heights, while Spitting Venom is an eight and a half minute heavy-weight that changes tempo all the time climaxing in enough cymbals and trumpets that it really should close the album. But obviously they didn't mean us to end on this high. Invisible firmly draws a line under this album with it's wake-up call of driving guitars and stabbing vocals. The odd tempo of this closer cleverly explains the choice of opener as one could lead on to the other in a constant loop which is more than possible for an album this packed with ideas.

Modest Mouse have always plotted their own course and this album is evidence of their impressive ability to retain their fiercely original edge throughout 5 albums. In fact it heralds a new and expansive horizon for the band showcasing a depth of sound and breadth of vision that until now has only been hinted at. In a music scene inundated with new bands every day it's a treat to hear the work of a long standing lineup honing its sound.

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4th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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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.

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

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Joakim

Monsters & Silly Songs

K7

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

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

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

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27th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Electrelane

No Shouts, No Calls

Too Pure

When I ask people if they like Electrelane and their answer is not "hell yea, those girls rule," they get greeted with a look of utter confusion like they've just replied in a language that I am not familiar with. Surely there is only 2 possible ways to answer this question and that is the obvious "yes" or " I'm sorry but I've been in a coma for the last 10 years and haven't heard this band to which you refer." In my humble opinion to hear this band is to love them. I first came into contact with Electrelane via their second album and debut for Too Pure, The Power Out (I was in a coma when they released their first record Rock It To The Moon in 2001.) Their expansion of the instrumental rock jams of before to include the most beautiful vocals was a wise move and made this record one of the best albums of the last 5 years. Strangely though, it's follow up seemed to leave this behind slightly and 2005's Axes was an admirable extension to their sound, offering up a much more challenging listening experience - but it didn't capitalise on the successes of The Power Out as much as I had hoped.

Luckily, Electrelane's fourth release No Shouts, No Calls ties up unfinished business perfectly and seems a much more logical follow up to The Power Out than Axes did. It's exactly what I wanted from this band and is a damn near perfect album. From the first note of opener The Greater Times your heart will let out a sigh of relief as if it had been holding its breath since the last release. "I've been waiting for you," it claims, well so have we. The majority of the songs here follow a similar formula. They take the form of the most perfect day. They start off gently with the sweetest melody then slowly and only when you're completely ready do they rise and pick up speed to an invigorating gallop. They either wind down as gently as they begun or collapse in a heap of exhausted joy. They contain long hours of sunshine and any clouds that may occur are welcome. In Berlin is a perfect example of this winning formula. The blissful vocals ease us in over the most delicate of piano melodies. The rhythm of the drums carries us higher to be joined gradually by the string section which soars to majestic heights. It's simply beautiful and shows this bands versatility and ability to move the listener with a punch and a whisper.

The punch comes in the form of Between The Wolf And The Dog. This is one of the few times when this gradual build up technique is not employed and it's a wake up call to any lazy ears. The drums are relentless and pounding and the guitars even more so. It's also one of the few nearly instrumental tracks recalling their earlier work. The instrumental muscle is diffused nicely by some sweet oo's and ah's in the middle, but all in all this song serves to get your attention. The other song that strays from the formula is Cut And Run. This is a stripped down ukulele love ditty and is as light as The Wolf And The Dog is heavy. It's airy and joyous and provides light relief from the emotion that went before.

No Shouts, No Calls is Electrelane's most accessible album to date but is also their most joyous. It is packed full of blissful lyrics of devotion and unfailing love and a lot of the dark experimentation of earlier works have turned into more fully realised entities making the album as a whole way more consistent than past efforts. The Power Out will always be dear to me as it was my savored moment of discovery of this band but this release solidifies them as one of the most treasured bands of recent times.

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

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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.  

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

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Love Of Diagrams

Love Of Diagrams EP

Matador Records

Melbourne band Love of Diagrams are a band that instantly conjure up a dozen influences, and while I can't put my finger on exactly what they most sound like, Blondie, Gang of Four and Yeah Yeah Yeah's are certainly a handful of suggestions. For once however the strong comparisons are not a criticism of unoriginality - instead giving their music an instantly recognizable feel that makes the songs seem like old favourites that you haven't heard in a while.

Pace of the Patience has catchy interplay between singers Antonia Sellbach and Luke Horton, with the girl/boy contrast giving them a sound like the mathematical punk of  Gang of Four. The Pyramid is where the Blondie influence is most obvious - although mainly in Antonia Sellbach's voice rather than the actual sound of the music or song structure, which is often less traditional that the more obvious Blondie hits.

The  production could do with a bit of sharpening up in places - as the muddy vocals are a bit low and sometimes that undermines what seems to be crisp pop-rock trying to get out.  although No Way Out does address this problem a bit - using that mathematical rhythm to create a track like a beefed up version of  Bis' Eurodisco. I'm sure the band are sick of the Gang of Four and Blondie comparisons by now, but having "One way or another" as the hook in your song was just asking for that.

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4th Mar 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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The Early Years

The Luminaire, London

The Early Years just seem to be going from strength to strength (didn't I start my last review with that line?). First came their superb debut album - The Early Years - and a supporting tour, then they came right back with an EP of new songs, and now another supporting tour. The Luminaire is always a nice venue - small and friendly, with a good stage and a great atmosphere.

After some support from Beggars new signing Wolf & Cub, The Early Years took to the stage - setting up their own gear and getting ready to go. A  quick test on the pedal controlled strobe light and we're off. They don't waste and time getting into it, and their brand of minimal vocals guitar powered rock makes for a great live experience.

All Ones & Zeros and The Simple Solution are just two highlights of absolute brain melting rock, with their slow building rhythms and pounding sounds. The dueling guitars are what provide the obvious power of the band, but the superb drumming is not to be overlooked, holding the whole thing together.

A quick formation change for some of the more electronic songs causes a slight glitch in the flow of things. Although the songs sound great, is there really a need to put Beckham in goal, just so David Seaman can take a free-kick?

While the often minimal vocals can occasionally make for an unfocused stage presence, I'd often find myself mesmerised and transfixed - especially when that strobe light was going - and I'm slightly suspicious that the band only played one song, hypnotised the crowd and then spent the rest of the show sipping Pina Coladas in the dressing room. Either way, they rock. Check them out.

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25th Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Autokat

Late Night Shopping

Where these boys come from, which is Manchester, late night shopping = burglery, not a thursday evening in Harvey Nicks so this should put their debut album into some context. It's a raw piece of home made post rock that deals with the usual themes of urban city life in all its grime and glory. Signed to Manchester's influential Akoustik Anarkhy label, Autokat follow in the footsteps of bands like The Longcut and Nine Black Alps, but have more in common with bands like Warlocks or Chimpomatic favorites Working For A Nuclear Free City.

Opening track Shot sets a fair pace as its chiming guitar slowly turns into an awesome grinding riff that lays down a spiky platform for the vocals. The song eventually disappears off into a great slush of prickly guitar noise that turns this forthcoming single into a very grand opening statement. Seven Years is a much cleaner sound with more pronounced vocals while Dealy is the first of two well placed instrumental tracks that really give this album breathing space. Innocence really gets you to your feet after the rather lazy Bowling with its pure Gang Of Four beat, jangly guitars and upbeat muscle. Along with Shot it's one of the joys of this record that unfortunately is too few and far between.

Late Night Shopping can be patchy at times and the grit of the harder tracks is not always upheld throughout the album but it has a brilliantly fresh mix of melody and darkness. It can be sinister but can also lift you out of its threatening grasp with great floaty pop. Like fellow Mancs Working For A Nuclear Free City, this debut changes tempo so frequently and with such ease that the result is a record that's so packed with ideas and possible avenues for future pursuit and at the risk of sounding like a school report, this band oozes potential and though not all of it has been realised with this record it makes for a rosy look at the road ahead.

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21st Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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His Name Is Alive

Detrola

4AD

4 years ago His Name Is Alive released Last Night which would prove to be their final outing with longstanding partners 4AD. Now they resurface with Detrola, their debut for the aptly named Reincarnate Music and after repeated listens this proves to justify the wait. Sounding like a best of compilation of the band Detrola is a very rewarding listening experience spanning many tempos and moods. After the ever increasing applause of the introduction that turns into a deafening wave of noise the listener settles into some of the warmest and sublime avant-pop produced by this band for years.

I Thought I Saw is perfect lounge jazz while In My Dreams is more of a pushier, synth driven affair. *C*A*T*S* is the standout peak of the album, and with it this band reach new heights of song craft perfection. Lovetta Pippen's sweet vocals are simply heart melting and dance effortlessly around the delicate beat and layered textures. Though nothing after this quite reaches its heights the mood is sustained and the beauty maintained until Send My Face ends things on a somber note and makes you want to start over again.

Detrola mixes a spot on blend of glitchy power pop, melancholic soul and soaring beauty with such refreshing playfulness. It's broody and sexy yet profoundly heart breaking. In My Dreams' innocent lyric sums it all up perfectly. "It's so beautiful, it's like a 6 it's like a 9."

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9th Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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The Hours

Narcissus Road

The Hours is the brainchild of Martin Slattery and Antony Genn - veterans of various bands and production credits from Unkle to Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros. Slattery's keyboard work for the likes of Black Grape is an instant reference on the album, which begins well with a tense opening piano beat that threatens to explode but never does. This is the structure of much of the album and it really works. Antony Genn's vocals are intense and urgent and come at you with an Interpol-like might. These are epic songs and this is totally down to a great use of restraint. The rarely let go and so retain the tension throughout the album.

Lyrically it's a mixed bag. All In The Jungle repeats the excellent line "The greatest comeback since Lazarus" and builds up a nice boxing story with Ali fight samples over the end, but then a few tracks later you get this..."I love you more than all my hooded tops, I love you more than Tony Soprano and for those who don't know me that's a fuck of a lot." The song has the same tension as the other songs but the lyrics are laughable. They seem to be tongue in cheek but are sung with such seriousness. I mean who doesn't love Mr. Soprano and every now and again I could be seen in a hooded top but I wouldn't use them to declare my undying love for someone. Unfortunately this song undermines things and makes for the rest of the album difficult listening - emphasised later on with a dose of fucking swearing. I like a dose of Explicit Lyrics as much of the next time, but it's so unnecessary here that it just seems trite in the context of these often operatic storylines. It's like sitting through a family gathering when your 90 year old granddad could come out with anything at any time and you're just waiting for it.

The slow jams like Icarus don't work as well as the others. They fall into the Coldplay/Snow Patrol grey area and are left behind by the strength of their pent-up counterparts. Murder Or Suicide disappears off into a fantastic piano based instrumental pounding session which really hammers home the fact that the piano is definitely man of the match here.

This is a debut with more than its fair share of promise but it seems far too aware of itself. It's too literal and sometimes takes itself way too seriously. It's no surprise that Jarvis Cocker is a fan of these guys as storytelling third-person lyrics are his forte but The Hours don't have the kitchen sink wit that made Cocker's work so original.

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9th Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Arcade Fire

Neon Bible

Rough Trade

In 2005 the Arcade Fire gave us Funeral - and with it music was exciting again. No sooner had the music industry heard all 10 songs that it set about desperately trying to find the next source of this feeling. The well timed release of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah saw that band ride this wave with another stunningly exciting debut. So it's 2 years on and Clap Your Hands got in there first with their reply, so what of Neon Bible? Is this a one trick pony? Well, what do you do after such a powerful debut? As we are seeing with Some Loud Thunder, the answer is to play it cool and take it all down a notch. No such idea ever crossed the mind of Win Butler and co. when making Neon Bible. The agenda is clear here, take everything great about Funeral and times it by ten - reveal the iceberg. It's the sound of a band who know full well that they make big music. The best word to describe Neon Bible is massive. If you intend to listen to this album you will need to brush up on 'The Platoon Position', as mid way through the opening track Black Mirror you'll find yourself in need of a suitable body position to justify such grandiosity. It's triumphant music which is surprising considering all the previous themes of death, resentment and wasted life are at its heart and the inclusion of war and the demise of America it's thematically pretty bleak. Musically and stylistically it hasn't changed much from Funeral although it seems quite obvious that someone's been listening to Bruce Springsteen. So with the immortal words of The Boss "Just wrap your legs round these velvet ribs and strap your hands across my engines,"  I will begin with what will undoubtedly become a tired and over-used driving/cars metaphor to describe this album.

If the opening track with its rumble of thunder and deep, pounding drums is akin to the feeling of getting behind the wheel of a high performance vehicle then Keep The Car Running is the point where you come over the brow of a hill and see the open road ahead. The delicate guitar strum at the start hints at the pace ahead and makes your heart flutter with impending excitement.

Title track Neon Bible is the early stop at the service station to refuel when all women and children hear the words they dread. "Get what you need cos we're not stopping again." And with Intervention we are most certainly back at full speed. It's the grandest song on the album, shit it's the fucking grandest song this side of God Save The Queen (National Anthem not Sex Pistols.) Anyone frowning at my use of cuss words will see that they certainly are justified. Starting with a chapel organ the size of St Pauls Cathedral if every hair on your body doesn't stand on end consider yourself paralyzed. I don't know how this song will be played live as no building with a roof could possibly contain it.

Black Wave is pure Blondie with it's sublime melodies courtesy of Regine Chassagne, who until now has been the power house behind the backing vocals. Ocean Of Noise brings things down a notch with it's washes of strings and soft vocals but the driver of this car wasn't joking when he said we wouldn't be stopping again. This was merely a momentary drop in intensity before the full mariachi band bring this song to a glorious close.

The Well And The Lighthouse comes in with rapid pounding drums and Butler's frenzied vocals forever building and with Antichrist Television Blues The Boss really comes to the forefront. With it's strumming acoustic structure, passion fueled tales of working for the minimum wage and unstoppable tempo this would make Bruce wish he'd written it. As do many of these songs this one builds and builds to such tremendous heights then suddenly stops and makes you think that had it not stopped so suddenly you could very easily have shit yourself with joy. Windowsill is more of a slow builder but guess what, it lifts you up on yet another earth shattering wave of sound and rings you out at the end.

The inclusion of No Cars Go is the only questionable element to this album. Having heard its original form on the early EP this feels like all too familiar territory and even though it's been working out since its first appearance its inclusion here still feels a bit unnecessary.

Things are brought to an exhaustive close with My Body Is A Cage and please welcome back on to the stage, the huge fucking chapel organ. "My body is a cage that keeps me from dancing with the one I love, but my mind holds the key," sings Butler "Set my body free." This song is the end of a movie, it's the unfeasible tracking-crane-shot that lifts from close proximity and keeps on lifting, encompassing everything, showing us the whole picture. And with it's climax your body drops from the Platoon Position and though all your senses try to stop you, you press play again.

So to put this tired metaphor to rest, this is an awesome journey that covers a lot of ground. It never hits traffic, it sometimes slows down for safety reasons while passing through small villages but never opts for monotonous motorway driving and always takes the scenic route.

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

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The Shins

Wincing The Night Away

Sub Pop

Anyone not taken with the first two albums by The Shins - 'Chutes too Narrow' and 'Oh. Inverted Word' - won't find anything here to convince them otherwise. Those, on the other hand, who found them to be a refreshing breeze of Beatle-ish pop should be satisfied, as 'Wincing the Night Away' is basically more of the same 'It shouldn't work but it does' formula.

Opener, 'Sleeping Lessons' has already edged into the leading pack of my favourite Shins' songs. The band obviously feel comfortable that they have a committed fan base, so start the song off slowly; main-man James Russell Mercer singing over looping keyboard scales, before the rest of the band confidently crash in after 2 and a half minutes. First single 'Phantom Limb' sounds a bit cheesy at first, but is a grower (there's that Shins formula).

Things take a slight left turn with 'Sealegs' slowing it down and making good use of a new drum machine, the squelchy synth solo at the end gets dangerously twee however. But hey. This is The Shins. The band that Natalie Portman said would change your life, in the film ' Garden State' and if there is one thing I'm sure of in life, it's that when Natalie Portman talks to me, I listen and I listen hard.

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2nd Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Deerhoof

Friend Opportunity

ATP

You get a fair idea about a band who have a touring list as diverse as Deerhoof's. Radiohead, The Roots and Wilco are but a few, and not every band would appeal to such a varied range of fans. That's because Deerhoof are not just any band. They used to be a good band who made intriguing and challenging unclassifiable pop music. Now they are great band who are just as unclassifiable but produce such sublime musical moments that will undoubtedly shape your life if you let them. They're the kind of band that have the power to make you feel smug if you get them and embarrassed if you don't and for the last 13 years they have kept us wondering if we do truly get them.

With their new album Friend Opportunity a lot of questions are answered. They seem to have listened to their previous album The Runners Four the same way I did and come to similar conclusions. They've taken all that was great about that album and crafted this one. They've trimmed away a lot of the avant guard sprawl that they started with back in the day making Friend Opportunity a beautifully paced and refreshingly brief delight.

Satomi Matsuzaki's achingly sweet, candy-pop vocals are given full range here and are perfectly contrasted and complimented by the thrilling brut force power pop that drives this sugar coated juggernaut. The album hits the ground running with The Perfect Me. It's driving guitar opener is abruptly punctuated with Matsuzaki's Roadrunner like lyrics, "Meet me, meet me, meet the perfect me." and it's somewhere during this song that you begin to suspect that these words herald the beginning of a glorious introduction to the perfect Deerhoof.

There is no point in describing each high point here as it changes every time I listen to the record. At the moment Believe E.S.P is doing it for me in a big way, but last week it was Wither The Invisible Birds? This is where this album shifts gear and gracefully pulls away from its predecessors. It's a wondrously orchestrated landscape in which Satomi's voice spreads its wings and soars to new heights. It ceases to be sugar pop and blossoms before your ears into sublime maturity.

Unfortunately however for a band like Deerhoof one cannot sit comfortably through these wonderful moments. They're not out to please unconditionally and there's always a lesson or two that needs to be taught. The album finishes with Look Away, a 12 minute marathon of feet shuffling noise that very nearly undoes all the good work that went before. But as it finally fizzles out you realise that lurking in this irritation lies the reason you love this band. It's not the kind of song you want to hear again but without its threat the whole experience wouldn't be anywhere near as thrilling and the success of this album rests in the balance between this threat and the delivery of pure unrivaled joy.

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2nd Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

Soho Venue Bar, London

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

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

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

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

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1st Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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