Chimpomatic

Julien Plenti

Julien Plenti Is ...Skyscraper

Matador

I'm not sure if I'd just temporarily had enough of Interpol, but 2007's major label debut Our Love To Admire failed to engage me. Tracks (and lyrics) like 'No I In Threesome' or 'Rest My Chemistry' just made the band seem like parodies of themselves - making it easy to imagine a Saturday Night Live sketch with Will Ferrell singing his shopping list, Interpol style. I just wasn't in the mood and after a few attempts it slipped away into the abyss.

Lead singer Paul Banks is back with the band's original label - Matador - for his first solo record, under the guise of alter-ego Julien Plenti. Banks had performed under the name prior to joining Interpol in 1998 and returns to the moniker here perhaps in an attempt to to scale back the arena-baiting sound of the band's recent work. While Banks' distinctive vocals certainly define the album, it's not a simple case of lumping this in with Interpol's main body of work.

The distinctive Interpol fuzz bass is often present, and pounding drums echo around Fun That We Have and to a certain extent Games For Days (unsurprisingly drummed by Interpol stick man Sam Fogarino), but the songs maintain a more low-key approach throughout, roughing up some of the over-applied polish of later Interpol. Banks' vocals are never quite unleashed to their full volume, but songs like No Chance Survival, the strings of Girl On The Sporting News or stand-out freebie Fun That We Have show another side to Banks that works very nicely.

While this makes is a nice addition to the Interpol cannon, the record does lack wallop in places - and the aforementioned thumping drums of old favourites Obstacle #1 or Not Even Jail would certainly add a bit of clout. Hopefully this side-project will give the day-job a re-boot and we'll leave that for Interpol #4 - I'm in the mood again now.

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#CSF

4th Aug 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Lightning Dust

Infinite Light

Jagjaguwar

The Black Mountain Army are proving to be nothing if not consistent. Since releasing Black Mountain's barn-storming In The Future in 2008, the contributors have been working steadily through their alter egos - with Pinkmountaintops putting out the excellent Outside Love and now alumni Amber Webber and Joshua Wells releasing a second album under the Lightning Dust moniker. I'm expecting a breakthrough album from Blood Meridian next.

Webber's contribution to Black Mountain is not to be over-looked, with her sultry vocals pulling the band back from the brink of parody and adding a mournful sound to the mix. Her vocals also supplied some of the highlights on Outside Love - and she was sorely missed on the supporting tour. With Lightning Dust however, Webber is firmly centre stage - taking on the majority of the writing, as well as guitar and 95% of the vocals.

Where the self titled debut was spare and sultry, Infinite Light is a more filled out and polished affair - much like the latest albums from the previously mentioned strands - and that extra push pays out rich rewards. Where Lightning Dust occasionally strained or became just too sparse, Inifinte Light sweeps and soars, showing a much wider range. Opener Antonia Jane is a country-tinged affair, obligitary lead-free-download I Knew adds some catchy low-key disco electronics and is notable for Well's superb drumming, while the piano-led The Times even threatens to become a sing-a-long. There are mysterious synthesizers and luscious strings, which all add up to a strangely epic vibe - for what is still essentially a small, self-contained record. There's a consistency and clarity here that would make a perfect soundtrack, probably to a modern day western or double crossin' film noir.

That 5% of the vocals that Webber doesn't cover is where this album loses it's half star - momentarily slipping towards that musical theatre vibe as the male vocals intrude on Honest Man. So while the variations are welcome to a certain extent, it's still the mournful voice of Webber that scores the highlights here - leading us effortlessly through the swell of History, the pounding balladry of Wondering What Everyone Knows or the flawless closer Take It Home, which perfectly sums up everything good about this excellent band. Great drums, moody bass, strings that could go on forever and a soaring, epic vocal performance that will put shivers down your spine.

Unmissable.

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30th Jul 2009 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Oneida

Rated O

Jagjaguwar

With a running time of just under two hours Oneida's new triple-album Rated O is not going to be an experience for the faint-hearted, but much-like it's predecessor (Preteen Weaponry - review here) it's a long ride worth strapping in for. Certainly before you wade into this sonic battlefront, you'll want to make sure you're well prepared - most likely with cups of tea and a bong. Let me set the scene: Oneida are big on repetition, they're into bit-crunching and distortion, electronics and real instruments, overt noise and subtle change. Voices are sometimes a sound source rather than a means for conveying lyrics - and musically, there's an unresolved tension running through the whole album.

You might not get much out of this release by just dipping into it or letting shuffle throw you a sonic morsel - but if you're prepared to strap in for the full 110 minutes the experience becomes something more akin to a performance. The first disc is right at home alongside Preteen Weaponry, with a great deal of droning and looping and very much an electronic feel, then at disc two we take a sharp turn and Oneida play a set of songs which are surprisingly straight and structured in nature - this took me by surprise, and put the long psychedelic workouts into a different context. The songs put me in mind of Clinic - rich in ideas, riffs, arrangements, but with that post-dance inclusion of textured noise. Also not a million miles away from Can in spirit and, at times, sound.

The third part of the album has another distinctive feel to it - an altogether less aggressive attitude towards the long improvisations, a chill-out cousin of disc one, culminating in the 20 minute Folk Wisdom which gradually works the energy back up towards the feel of the opening disc.

With this release, Oneida can officially count me as a fan. I like this band because they are serious about what they do. There is a lot of jamming but they are not just fucking around. Years ago when Spiritualized were being mercilessly hyped as the second coming of psychedlia, I really hoped they were going to sound like this instead of the fey gauchos they tuned out to be.

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#HarrisPilton

20th Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Shoot 'Em Up

(dir. Michael Davis)

New Line

The clue is in the title here, in fact most of the script is even in the title. Lone gunman Clive Owen attempts to save a baby from a well-armed arms dealer, as a series of set-pieces run one after another - seemingly contrived around the simplest of premises. Scene 2: gun drops in toilet before hand dryer heats bullets just in time to shoot bad guy. Scene 14: bad guys interrupt Clive getting jiggy, so he keeps at it by multi-tasking. Monica Belluci also stars - dressed down as a lactating wet-nurse hooker. Don't ask.

The plot is thinner than a video game and the action even more pointless. Characters can be a crack shot one minute then run through a hail of bullets unscathed the next. With Paul Giametti hamming it up more than Groucho Marx, and Clive Owen doing little to overcome his one-dimensional reputation, the action is all that's left to sell this film and unfortunately that's not exactly deftly handled.

While John Woo or Xiang Zimou might use too much balletic slow motion, there's at least some thought behind it all - where as this is just a blurry mess. Like a Van Damme movie without 'plot' and Clive Owen in the driving seat, 'Michael' Owen could have done a better job saving this turkey.

Soundtracked like an installment of Guitar Hero, the likes of Wolfmother, Motorhead and Nirvana make up the never-ending stream of rock music (the baby loves it apparently), which attempts to smooth out the faux emotion and misogynistic, sexist, shocking, dull, cartoon violence.

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15th Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Deerhunter

Rainwater Cassette Exchange

Not soon after I sunk my teeth into the promo of Deerhunters recent Microcastle, bonus disc Weird Era Cont. turned up, so it's no surprise given the generosity of this band that we should be treated to this little EP so soon after those last two.

Very little from this band could be described as 'non-essential', their records are so meticulously conceived that you doubt that there was a surplus heap of discarded songs waiting in the wings and this 5 track EP is no exception. With a format like this there really isn't time for Bradford Cox's usual atmospheric experimentations so every song here has the brisk trot that I have come to love about Deerhunter's music. The title track introduces the record gently but soon evolves into a narcotic rhythm that leads us seductively into Disappearing Ink, which would stand it's ground admirably on Microcastle. With a driving guitar structure that keeps its eyes set firmly on the middle distance and pounds its way there, all the time being accompanied by Cox's effect laden vocals. Game Of Diamonds plays out like a 50's high school prom slow jam and sees some beautifully delicate melodies being coaxed gently out of their shell.

Although none of these songs quite match the power and might of songs like Nothing Ever Happened - Microcastle's finest moment - collectively they display this bands versatility, and for that reason it is a worthy small step in this bands progression.

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10th Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Deerhoof / Anabel's Poppy Day / Rumspringa

Scala, London

I dunno, I suppose if you're used to living in somewhere really hot like Australia or the Nevada desert, then maybe the thought of leaving your nice cool house to make a journey on public transport into a stifling metropolis would be no challenge, just normal really. Here in southern England, where the indiginous population carry a complexion that is like the ghost of skimmed-milk, 30-degree plus temperatures make us feel like we're hog-tied in a duffle-coat. There was supposed to be a motocycle protest in London today - I should think that went well - bet they couldn't wait to put on leather, crash helmets and sit astride a slow-moving combustion-engine. Anyway, it's hot, and I didn't much feel like going into London.

Glad I did tho', otherwise I'd have missed a gig that I could easily put in my all-time top 10. The Scala (perhaps London's perfect venue) played host to this triple bill, and first up were Rumspringa - which I'd been rather mistakenley informed were an Amish Ska band. They weren't, and I'm glad. A blues-based guitar and drums duo, the larger half of which is guitarist/singer Joey Stevens. He has a fantastic voice, and plays great blues guitar, writes good songs, so what's not to like? A good start to the evening, in the nicely air-conditioned Scala. Second on the bill was French band Anabel's Poppy Day who came over from Paris on the bus for this gig. Well done, and all that, but an extra rehearsal and the Eurostar might be better next time.  A bit too naive and sloppy to be really good, but there were a couple of catchy melodies and some charming audience chat from squeaky singer (you guessed it) Anabel.

Seeing Deerhoof was one of those rare and wondeful experiences for me - when a live band just takes you to that "other place", when their sound, the atmosphere and the performance all came together just right. They are undoubtably a band at the top of their form, the perfect blend of tight and energetic playing with sweet pop melodies and keep-you-guessing arrangements. The guitar interplay of John Dieterich and Ed Rodriguez is world-class but never in the form of noodle-based fretwank, while drummer Greg Saunier flails his kit with some kind of furious joy. Singer and bass-player Satomi Matsuzaki is so tiny she barely rises above the audiences heads - and she's on stage. She has the most wonderful clear flat-toned voice and an onstage presence which says so much more than "just cute". The band play a lot of material from their two most recent albums (Reviews: 1 / 2), plus cover versions of The Ramones Gabba Gabba Hey and Canned Heat's Going Up The Country. Not a note out of place, and the crowd really showed their appreciation. Everybody left happy AND I had a totally smooth ride home on the train.

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#Gig
#HarrisPilton

3rd Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Japandroids

Post-Nothing

Polyvinyl Records

The noise pop scene is really picking up steam lately and we have seen the whole drums/guitar due done many times. We've had the recent Wavves breakdown, the vitriolic expletives of Psychedelic Horseshit's Matt Whitehurst and the rather oversensitive Hunches fans so it sure is nice to hear a band who fit the formula but really couldn't give a toss about it as well. Japandroids is Brian King on guitar and David Prowse on drums and their debut album Post-Nothing has all the reckless, punk abandon of an uptight teenager, a knack for hooks like you've never heard and enough perspective to not take itself too seriously.

All you have to do is listen to some of these lyrics to get the M.O. of this band. They're screeched with fledgling raw passion but are shot straight into the sky with enough epic heart to punch a hole in the sun. Young Hearts Spark Fire, one of the finest 5 minutes I've had for a while, states "We used to dream, now we worry about dying," then elaborates, "I don't want to worry about dying, I just want to worry about those sunshine girls." Me too buddy. The goal of Wet Hair is to get to Paris to "french kiss some french girls." I've just got back from Paris and that never happened, I didn't really want to even if I had the opportunity but when you're these kids ages it would seem pretty doable. All this heart is presented over crashing drums and some of the finest driving guitar hooks i've heard for ages. They play like their lives depend on it and with a confidence rarely seen after 25 they instill a beautiful glow of immortality in me every time I hear them. Heart Sweats is one of the many highlights here, the way it mixes the ultimate with the banal in its repetitive mantra, "Your heart's cold as ice girl, I should know I've been to the North Pole / Your soul's black as death girl, I should know I've crossed the threshold / Your style's a mess girl, I should know I used to date a stylist." In these lines they explain both idealism and the priorities of the young. It's genius and it's all delivered forcefully over a chugging structure that keeps renewing itself with unfailing excitement.

There's been much debate about the production of many DIY bands kicking around at the moment and though this isn't Pink Floyd its solid production work give the chunky riffs some profound bite and make the vocal's effortlessly dive over the top. Crazy/Forever crashes around with tinny cymbals then turns on a dime and drops into a deep guitar chord that instantly becomes the driving spinal chord to the longest song on the record. It seems they really don't care if you like this stuff or not, they just have to get it out or they'll explode. I charge anyone to listen to this and not feel a sudden rush of the purest type of nostalgic idealism.

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#BC

2nd Jul 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wilco

Wilco (The Album)

Nonesuch

I've got a problem with Wilco.

After being drawn in by their alt country charm through the two Woody Guthrie / Billy Bragg collaborations, my love of the band expanded rapidly. Having missed all the hoo-hah surrounding Yankee Hotel Foxtrot's release, A Ghost Is Born was the first album I was truly anticipating - and with the mid-season signing of Jim O'Rourke it was this album that lifted them into another league for me, blending electronics, beats and guitars into a thrilling rock album of OK Computer-esque proportions.

Problem is, a lot of hardcore Wilco fans seem to see A Ghost Is Born as Wilco's 'Kid A moment' (for better or for worse) and as such the consensus seems to be to consider the band 'back on track' with the seemingly less far-out vibe of their more recent work. Wilco seem like they might agree and appear very comfortable back in their soft shoes, crafting detailed, refined, quality guitar rock.

Their are still touches of mayhem of course and after the well-crafted crowd-pleaser of Wilco (The Song), the album dips into the darkness with Deeper Down, before continuing the path trodden by the best of 2007's Sky Blue Sky - as swirling guitars cram an eight minute epic into the three and a half minutes of One Wing.

Bull Back Nova borrows in part from the pounding keyboards of Kidsmoke to decent effect, before the album begins to sag in the middle - with the saccharine Feist collaboration You And I and the plodding You Never Know. Things pick up with pounding backbone of (the possibly Bueller-inspired) I'll Fight and before you've registered it, the album is over.

Of course, the bottom line is that this is still an excellent album. Now that the pressure of grading it is over, I'm sure it will settle into my most-played list (18 times so far) - and probably surface in my end of year best-ofs, just as Sky Blue Sky. That album was lifted up a major notch following the live tour that supported the album, with many of the songs beefed up and stretched out when re-created by this immensly engaging band and I expect a similar story following August's London show.

Of course, it is entirely possible that it's me with the problem.

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#CSF

1st Jul 2009 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Sunset Rubdown

Dragonslayer

Jagjaguwar

Ever since Sunset Rubdown's debut LP Shut Up I Am Dreaming made its welcome and permanent position in my life it has become quite clear that Spencer Krug's side project was threatening to upstage the main event. Now 3 years on and their third album sees the transformation complete. Never before has Wolf Parade sounded more like an afterthought and this band more like the powerhouse it has always threatened to be.

2007's Random Spirit Lover was a studio-built album, almost entirely written while recording and every layer being painstakingly overdubbed and adjusted. The result was tremendous but utterly overwhelming in its size and intensity. Dragonslayer is a totally different story. It is the product of a far more organic recording process with the music being left in its raw state and allowed to grow naturally. Strangely enough, having been born in a contrasting environment, Dragonslayer is just as momentous, but it's also an altogether different creation. Instead of pounding you into blissful submission Dragonslayer sprinkles angel dust in your eyes by way of some truly magnificent compositions and Spencer Krug's writing, which really have no place in a world this cynical.

Random Spirit Lover was all about excess. Almost every song launched into full blown magnitude during the first few bars with Krug filling every corner of each song with frenzied poetry. The first thing you notice about Dragonslayer is the space. The songs are long and the music is allowed time to really explore its territory. Instead of springing out of the blocks most songs here enjoy some of the most sublime introductions I've heard in a long time. Krug makes ambitious music and by gradually raising up these compositions in the way he does here transforms them into stella entities. I never thought he would ever top Shut Up I Am Only Dreaming Of Places Where Lovers Have Wings from the debut but Idiot Heart comes closer than anything else to stealing that crown. With a chugging guitar intro Krug simmers with brilliant clarity and patience. The instruments keep a low but weighty profile with a glorious guitar circling them with wild abandon. "You can't settle down until the Icarus in your blood drowns" mumbles Krug as the whole intricate construction swells in unison on the wing of this guitar work that never fails to light a fire in your heart in the brief time it is given to fly. In over six minutes in length this song dips and dives, hinting at finishing then changing course and hurtling off again.

Black Swan has a drum beat intro that runs for over a minute which is virtually unheard of from this band. Krug and his musicians explode periodically along this beat but then fade away to leave it running in its beautiful simplicity. The raw production employed on these songs is best seen in the lead guitar. On this song it flares and soars with unbridled energy then drops into the rhythm with expert timing. It really gives this album its feeling of limitlessness as it sings such heart wrenching melodies but with such gruff and gravely textures.

I could write endlessly about some of these songs, the dub rhythmical structure of You Go On Ahead (Trumpet Trumpet II), the near electro sound that introduces Nightingale/December Song or the moment Camilla Wynne Ingr first utters her soft vocal pearls on Idiot Heart but music this precious should really be left to be experienced. I could write forever but always fall short of capturing the magic that lies in Krug's crazy heart. He sings of shooting stars, magical palaces, kings and queens and mouthfuls of butterfly wings because these are the only concepts that sit comfortably in this vast imagination. By hiding under the sheltering banner of a side project Krug has managed to sneak up the inside lane and rides comfortably upfront. Propelled by bluebird's wings and dragon's flames he's racing ahead as one of todays finest songwriters and with a band this strong behind him there really is no stopping this glorious insanity.

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29th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Low Anthem

Oh My God, Charlie Darwin

Bella Union

At some point in their fledgling careers all 'man with guitar' outfits will have to bear reference to the 'man with guitar' master. If there's one aspect of His Bobness that Bella Union's The Low Anthem emulate, it is the sense of an old 'all seeing' soul in a young man's body. Long before the mundanity of a youth in a simple mining town was discovered by biographers and used against him by 'Judas' shouting fanatics Dylan created a myriad of myths about his upbringing. The 'ho-bo on a train' and 'circus performer on the run' personas that Dylan invented for himself created a mystique that allowed the listener to accept a wisdom that defied his tender years. Though technically 'two men with guitars', The Low Anthem have something of that sort of quality; with a philosophy that seeps from their music suggesting many years on a Kerouacian road. This comforting suspension of disbelief is a joy that makes The Low Anthem so enchanting; it would be a shame if it was shot to pieces by revealing that it is all just cut and pasted by 21st century teenagers with access to folk pages on wikipedia.

In terms of the actual sound and feel of The Low Anthem it is not the original Dylan that springs to mind, but rather the original 'new Dylan'; Bruce Springsteen. One always gets the sense that at heart The Boss is really the boy from New Jersey who got a union card and wedding coat for his 19th birthday rather than being born to run. Its not that The Low Anthem sound like Springsteen rather that they sound what a young Bruce might have sounded like if he had carried on along Thunder Road in search of America rather than getting bogged down with 'debts that no honest man can pay' down in Asbury Park and Atlantic City. Embarking from Rhode Island they must have hit the Midwest built a bonfire and larked about with a banjo, stopped off in the Appalachian mountains for a hill-billy hoe down, howled at the moon like the Boss's hero Tom Joad out on the dusty prairies, soaked up some Blue Grass in the Georgian swamps and been lifted by the sound of Spiritiuals in the deep south. 'Oh My God, Charlie Darwin', The Low Anthem's second album, is all of these things, with moments akin to a melancholic Bruce rocking gently alone on a porch or rollicking good times with the E Street Band in tow.

If your idea of great music is a band in a basement, then I dare say you'll love 'Oh My God, Charlie Darwin' and wish you'd been out on the road with the two men with guitars. If it isn't, then you'll probably be happy to book a last minute package and be glad that at no stage were you subjected to hotel lobby music that sounded in any way like 21st century Americana. The Low Anthem are the latest in a lineage from Woody Guthrie through Tom Waits and the Boss - who all the while manage to sound timeless.

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#Muxloe

26th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Cosmos

Jar Of Jam Ton Of Bricks

Happy Jack Rock

By the time you’ve read this short review, there’s every chance that Robert Pollard has released another album under one of his various monickers, such is the prolific nature of the 52 year old Ohio native. Regular Pollard-watchers will not be (overly) disappointed with the new Cosmos project - Jar of Jam Ton of Bricks is a mixed bag of quirks and curveballs with the immediately recognisable and strangely comforting voice of Pollard (mostly) at the reigns.

Whether it’s stripped down acoustic (Don’t be A Shy Nurse, Zeppelin Commander), effortless piano-led pop (Nude Metropolis) or all out rockers (The Neighbourhood Trapeze, Westward Ho) it’s Pollard's voice and melodies, signing signature wildly imaginative/just plain odd lyrics that sits atop it all - holding it in place.That is until he hands over singing/song writing duties with Indie stalwart Richard Davies. The strongly-accented Australian steps up to the mic on four fragmented tracks, that sadly punture any momentum JoJToB threatens to build up.

That said, there’s enough here to keep Pollard fans happy until the next project , unless that next project has already been and gone of course.

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#chimpovich

25th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Dinosaur Jr.

Farm

Pias

Anyone familiar with the 1988 film Police Academy 5: Assignement Miami Beach, will surely agree that the old maxim “If ain’t broke don’t fix it”, is one of life’s truer wisdoms. Unluckily for fans of wise-cracking Mahoney, producers of the Police Academy series were too short-sighted to adhere to it. Luckily for Dinosaur Jr. fans, whilst J.Mascis may have lost sight of it for a short period, he’s largely maintained faith in an exceptional guitar talent, a perfect accompanying voice and a seemingly effortless knack for great song writing.

After a much publicised break-up and lengthy seperation, 2007’s Beyond saw the original line-up of Mascis, Lou Barlow and drummer Murph re-unite to produce one of the year’s standout records, picking up the powerful sound that always saw them stand apart from the Grunge crowd they were often unfairly and lazily lumped in with almost 20 years previously. Now, with the three still in happy harmony it seems, they offer us the gift of “Farm” - essentially more of the same and praise be to that.

Less an axe, more an entire tool shed, the guitar in the hands of Mascis is always a pleasure to behold. Just 10 seconds of opener Pieces is all it takes to reassure us we are in familiar territory, with the Mascis guitar taking centre stage, countered by his subtle voice and the bass and drums of Lou Barlow and Murph not shirking back-up responsibility.  The feelgood I Want You To Know, bounces along with a singalong chorus that has potential for serious live favourite. Ocean In The Way slows down the tempo, but keeps the effects pedals down to sound like a fuzzed up Neil Young. Lou steps up for Your Weather, I’ve said it before and it’s undoubtedly an obvious observation, but a Barlow song on a Dinosaur Jr. record always sound like Sebadoh as played by, well, Dinosaur Jr… which, well, rocks.

The wah’d guitar that screams over the intro lets us know that it’s Mascis back at the controls for Over It. Close-to-8-minuter Said The People darkens the mood, whilst the funky riff of See You picks it back up again. Lou’s given the honour of rounding it all off with Imagination Blind, a suitable stomper bringing the curtain down on yet another solid offering from the thankfully unbroken and unfixed Dinosaur Jr.

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#chimpovich

24th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

White Denim

Fits

Full Time Hobby

In my review of the dazzling debut album from White Denim, I referred to the free-weeling nature of their style to the possibility that their cup runnith over, that Workout Holiday was the result of someone calling time on this non-stop outpouring of grimy creative muscle flexing. Well almost a year on from this release and we get the followup, thus proving my point. Workout Holiday was a collection of new work and previous EP's so Fits has different role to play - but when you're so blind-sided by an album as I was with their debut, it sure is interesting to see the follow-up and put the catalogue into a context.

Their debut set them up as slightly unhinged punk upstarts and the clever thing about this record is that it not only hammers that point home quite profoundly, but also destroys it as a stereotype by placing them in some other less predictable arenas - that of lounge jazz, prog, psyche rock and even a bit of tropicalia. They've imposed quite a rigid structure on the record by separating these various approaches. The band describe the approach as "less medium to medium-hard songs and more songs that are medium-soft and hard-hard." Hard-hard leads the record with medium-soft occupying the second half. Very little ground is re-trodden here and from the outset it's quite clear that the manic schizophrenia they displayed earlier was nothing compared to what they are capable of. Radio Milk How Can You Stand It opens a four song run of some of the most sprawling free-form garage rock you'll have heard in a while. Drummer Josh Block and bassist Steve Teribecki lead this charge with non-stop rolling thunder. When I saw them in east London last month they treated us to a full throttle rock marathon that refused to acknowledge track-breaks. This is obviously how they roll these days and as All Consolation and Say What You Want repeatedly change up in arrangement and go careering off in unpredictable directions they might as well have done without track breaks here.

As far as the soft half of Fits is concerned Mirrored And Reverse is by far the highlight. It was given out as a free download in anticipation of the record and at the time it seemed quite a curious departure for this band but in the context of the record it not only make perfect sense but shines out as the best song here. It scuffles along on a downbeat rhythm with Petralli's vocals assuming an uncharacteristically subtle tone. As the rhythm swells the guitar drifts in with a guttural sort of blues that carries away the rest of the song. It's a worthy figurehead of this new sound and shows a more considered approach to their music. Along with the country pop of Paint Yourself and the lounge lazy haze of I'd Have It Just The Way We Were this second half treats us to some fine pop hooks like the ever-so-light and playful Regina Holding Hands.

Lead single I Start To Run and Everybody Somebody reign-in their tendency to erratic compositions and become near perfect garage rock. They drop in periodically to remind us that when they want to this trio can pull out a piece of toe-tapping grufty perfection, but they'd prefer to leave all that to other bands and strive forward into unknown territory. Fits may not be as instantly appealing or as jaw-droppingly exciting as Workout Holiday, but it's this refusal to stay still that makes it such a ballsy success. They started off as a bunch of punks who didn't know the rules and now they seem to have their eyes on the Hendrix crown, and it's only been a year. Their live show was an awesome display of energy and with Fits they've won themselves the freedom that some bands spend their entire career chasing. As I said after reviewing Workout Holiday, I can't wait for the next shot of this lot.

#Music
#BC

23rd Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Flipper

Generic/Gone Fishin'/Public Flipper Ltd./Sex Bomb Baby

Domino

Re-re-re-release time for the four Flipper albums. Boy, these rekkids have a long history of being issued with some legal wrangling and format wars all rolled in for good measure. Apparantley a big influence on Nirvana, Henry Rollins and plenty of sludge-rock bands, Flipper are pretty much the also-rans of the American punk scene. Too slow and experimental for many, too noisy and uncompromising for others, it's easy to see why they never achieved the star status of those who followed. Here then, are their four official releases (with the exception of their new album) for those who missed them first time, second time, or third time round.

Generic Flipper
Flipper's first album kicks off with "Ever", which lays down their manifesto from the word go - guitar out of tune with the bass (and itself) in a gigantic wash of fuzz and reverb, but jollied along by go-go hand-claps. Perhaps this is Flipper's charm - even on the two studio albums they sound like they're having a crack at playing all the tunes for the first time, without the benefit of rehearsal. Naturally there are some moments when the originality of the vocals or the catchiness of the riffs break through the noise for a decent glimpse of what the fuss was all about, and on Generic the best track is the infamous "smoke on the water of punk" Sex-Bomb. Actually, Sex-Bomb is more of a punk "Low Rider" with it's infectious bass groove. Confusingly, Flipper also released a track called Lowrider which makes no reference to War's track...anyway...

Gone Fishin'
The second album is more sonically diverse, employing Sax, Vibes and Piano in places whilst continuing with the tradition of playing very loose. It's pretty heavy in places - less punk and more sludge - sort of like a prototype version of The Cows, and there are further flashes of what the band might have become if various members didn't keep dying of drug overdoses. Standout tracks are In Life My Friends, and Talk's Cheap.

Public Flipper Ltd
This is a collection of live tracks recorded by Flipper during their glory years (81 - 83). If you've enjoyed the sound of Flipper's first two albums you might wish to persevere with this one, since by now you'll be well used to the idea of the guitar being out of tune, and rather randomly played. Opening track New Rules No Rules is just about the most punk-rock thing you'll ever hear in your life - where Flipper's sound suddenly makes sense. Sadly though, the low-fi recordings do not convey the band's legendary HEAVY live sound, but at least there's quite a lot of material here that was not on the two studio albums - singles releases mainly - which leads us to...

Sex Bomb Baby
A collection of Flipper's singles and all remaining releasable tracks. The original 7" version of Sex-Bomb is great, complete with Riot noises over the end. The singles have the same kind of sound as the album tracks but they attempt to get the point across a little quicker, which sometimes helps. The track I really like here is Brainwash - truly original and nicely executed.

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You can't deny the influence Flipper have had on some great bands, but you can also hear why they were destined to be infamous rather than famous - they were dedicated to the way they sounded, but that very sound obscured the catchy elements of their tracks. I'm sure a good producer could have changed all that, but I don't think Flipper wanted to sound any other way. For once, I'd really like to hear an album full of Flipper cover versions done by contemporary bands who could wrestle the great bits out of the Flipper catalogue...and maybe even tune the guitars.

#Music
#HarrisPilton

22nd Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

True Blood

(creator: Alan Ball)

FX UK

As a huge Buffy fan I wasn't overly excited by the prospect of another show taking a bite out of the vampire world. But True Blood is strong enough to be a distinct and quite different beast altogether.

The set up is that vampires have finally come out to the human world thanks to a Japanese brand of synthetic blood (Tru Blood - bottled like a six pack) that means they don't have to snack on people anymore. Cue a range of reactions from far-right politicians who want to round them all up ("God Hates Fangs!" to groupies (aka "fang-bangers" in TB-speak) who are keen on getting a closer look for themselves.

It's set in a smalltown in the Cajun south, where waitress Sookie Stackhouse
(Anna Paquin) is excited to find the town's first vampire walking into her bar. Just to add a bit more fantasy to the mix, she's also a telepath who can hear everyone's thoughts around her. She's learned how to block her friends' and co-workers' minds - on the whole - but there are a lot of customers who suddenly find themselves on the wrong end of a drink. But, as she discovers, she can't hear what vampires are thinking...

You can see why Alan Ball was attracted to the Sookie Stackhouse novels that True Blood is based on. Like Six Feet Under, there's plenty of room here to get under the skin of a smalltown community, to discuss smallmindedness, difference and yes, sexuality while telling a great story. Add in a possible serial killer, vampire "drainers", some NSFW scenes, a great cast (including cameos as cops from cult faves Chris Bauer and William Sanderson - aka The Wire's Frank Sobotka and Blade Runner's JF Sebastian) and a strong sense of humour (Sookie's grandmother is thrilled to meet someone from the US Civil War) and you've got the makings of a show worth getting into. Plus the second series has just started in the states so you don't have to worry about it being canned anytime soon.

#TV
#chimp71

20th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Year One

Harold Ramis

Totally tedious outing from the Apatow school of comedy. Hey, what if Jack Black and Michael Cera were like totally cavedudes? And what if they bumped into Cain and Abel? And what if they were like, totally played by David Cross and Paul Rudd? Would hilarious results ensue with total dudely charm? 

You get the idea. In fact, it's all in the trailer. All the good gags (which seem a lot less funny when they're all the film really has) are in the trailer. See that. Avoid this with a prehistoric stick. Once we get to Sodom (hmm, wonder if they'll get any jokes out of that?) the whole thing descends into one of those pointless comedy chase/bust-up/big fights that really make no sense at all. There's an evil king who keeps sacrificing virgins! There's a camp evil high priest! There are fart jokes! Gay jokes! Cera ends up pissing on himself upside down!

It's a shame to see Black and Cera, two naturally talented performers with a good sense of comic timing reduced to the basest level of their (admittedly limited) ranges. Black's all wacky loser guy; Cera's a clever mumbler. It's not enough here. 

Please don't make Year Two.

#Film
#chimp71

19th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Transformers: Revenge Of The Fallen

(dir. Michael Bay)

BANG! CRRRRRSH! NEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOWWW! ARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH! The Fallen has risen! Quick! Grab the All-Spark shard! Don't let the Decepticons get the hidden secret thing! I'm off to college mom and dad, damn they won't let me take my cool robot car or hot girlfriend Megan (she really is a) Fox! I just want a normal non-robot life. Uh-oh! They're back! The Autobots need me?! OK I'll save the world again if I must. Hope I don't rip another T-shirt. Maybe this hacker roommate I've just got will come in useful? CRRRRRSHHH! There they go again! OPTIMUS!!!! Nooooooooo! Quick! Call in the US MILITARY! Transformers are really, really, really old. And MEGATRON'S BACK!! Anyhow, let's BLOW STUFF UP! Run Megan (she really is a) Fox, RUN! Let's find that other dude from the first movie! JET ATTACK! OUTER SPACE!!! UNDERWATER!! Destiny! Call THE ARMY!! BOOOOOOOOOM!!! Let's go to EGYPT!! BLOW UP THE PYRAMIDS!!!! 

Warning: comes with built-in headache. But does deliver on the promise of more robot battles and explosions. And shots of Megan Fox.

#Film
#chimp71

17th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet

Mr. Woodcock

(dir. Craig Gillespie)

New Line Cinema

After an over-weight childhood of bullying and lack-lustre sporting achievement, John Farley (Seann William Scott) has made a name for himself as a self-help author - thanks to his best-seller about "Letting Go". On returning to his hometown to pick up an achievement award, he discovers to his horror that his widowed mother (Susan Sarandon) is dating the sadistic gym teacher (Billy Bob Thornton) responsible for much of his childhood horror. Much hilarity ensues.

Billy Bob Thornton continues to water down the comedy highs of Bad Santa and Bad News Bears with this pedestrian comedy. Unfortunately this seems like it's made up of out-takes from the already lame School For Scoundrels remake, with Thornton's bullying gym teacher Mr Woodcock sharing the unflinching nasty streak of Dr. P, with a script that shows none of the sympathy of Bad Santa.

Seann William Scott has never showed any promise beyond his cameo as the donkey wrangler in Old School - and his performance here does nothing to upgrade his status. Susan Sarandon, you should know better.

At 87 minutes you'd expect things to whizz by, but with a plot this thin it drags and drags before finishing ungracefully and being immediately erased from my memory.

#Film
#CSF

16th Jun 2009 - Add Comment - Tweet