Chimpomatic

Ryan Adams

Koko

I had some expectations regarding this concert; first of all Adams has won me over with his records and did deliver a great performance at Royal Festival Hall a few years back. Also the venue, being so bijou and intimate, was promising even more of a connection with events on stage. With no support act the audience was really hungry for some action, and the band did not disappoint, arriving all sharply suited and sitting in one line, facing the crowd, as if to say that all the members are equally as important, no lead singer at the front. Adams, sporting classic Wayfarer sunglasses, looked like a schoolboy member of the Rat Pack, sitting on a high chair with no guitar in sight as if leading a big band playing a stripped down club set. Whether the absence of his guitar still owed to a ligament torn a month ago or an artistic choice remains a mystery. Anyway, Neal Casal was doing a great job covering for Adams.

We were first treated to songs from his latest album, 'Easy Tiger', which is out on 25/06/07, so the songs were new to most of the audience. Adams' voice was even bigger and more resonant than usual, again confirming the impression of a big band number, although on some of the songs instrumental arrangements would seem more appropriate if performed sitting on haystacks. It seemed that Adams was not in the mood for performing for the audience, with his glasses ever-present on the moodily lit stage and not acknowledging the applause until the latter part of the concert. By the time he spoke at the encore, it was drowned by the chatter of semi-captivated audience. Encore was very short and did not treat us to many of the greatest songs apart from 'Goodnight Hollywood Blvd' and 'My Winding Wheel'. All in all the band were on stage little over an hour and 10 minutes, which simply left one disappointed and seemed like a missed opportunity.

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10th Jun 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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The Hold Steady

Boys And Girls In America

Vagrant

I started writing this review last year, but the album was already out so it wasn't a priority. It somehow got lost in the backwash and only recently floated up to the top of the pile. It's just in note form - but I think that it captures most of what I wanted to say. And in fact it kinda fits in with the way this album sounds and they write lyrics with really long sentences that tell a long story and don't quite fit with the music but somehow it really works and I love it and Tony's gonna step in here with a guitar solo.

Track 1. The title itself "Boys And Girls In America" somehow seems like a hangover from the American Dream.

"She was a really cool kisser.... She was a damn good dancer, but she wan't all that good as a girlfriend".

The lyrics have a very personal and subjective style, drawing you in to the story. "We thought that Sean Berriman could fly" or (wer'e-gonna-have-a-really-long-sentence-that-doesn't-really-fit-the-music-but-Johnny's-going-to-end-it-with-a-guitar-solo) personal, melancholic, nostalgic, looking back and recounting past events and escapades.

Wave of sound. Occasional piano break. A bit like the bar-room style of the Pogues, and in several places like a long lost Springsteen gem. 3.5

Track 2. Chips Ahoy. Circles of friends - "Some otherguy". Win on the races and "Spend the whole next week getting high". "I think his name was Chips Ahoy". Keyboard break. Grooving Bass. Enthusiastic. Passionate. 4.5

Track 3. Thumping Intro. Telling a story in past tense. "It started recreational, and ended kind of medical". Guitar duel at end. Similar themes to Oxford Collapse. Proms, pool parties, BBQs. Repeated. Simple. 4

Track 4. Can't keep up. "I was kicking it with Kevin". Blues Brothers intro. 2.5

Track 5. Melancholic. Pogues in New York. Drunk. Chas and Dave. "And then last night..." "Holly's inconsolable". Boys and Girls in America. 3

Track 6. Drums intro. Great. Phase 2 mid-album track. At their most Springsteen-esqe. "I guess I met her at the Party Pit". Like a bar in America with a great bar-tender, in a dirty/worn out Hawaiian shirt. 4

Very visual. Soundtrack to an 80's movie. "...and I'm pretty sure we kissed."

*HEAVY BREAKDOWN*

.....and that's as far as I got. Massive Nights is a great track from later on. Chillout Tent is pretty good too. It's certainly a little thin in places, but has some great tracks and some classics.

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9th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Simian Mobile Disco

Attack Decay Sustain Release

Wichita

With Dance Music Guy on extended leave due to ‘exhaustion’, the job of reviewing any music with beeps, bleeps and several beatsperminute generally falls to whoever is hanging around chimp hq after hours. Like stumbling round the darkened corridors of an after hours clubs for the first time, the move from Distortion Feedback Superfuzz Bigmuff to Attack Decay Sustain Release can be a disorientating affair.

Or is it? From the Prodigy, through Leftfield and the Chemical Brothers, casually throwing in a bit of Daft Punk and perhaps a dash of Air and onto Basement Jaxx and Groove Armada, the list of dance acts (groups) that have crossed over into the relatively mainstream world of drums and bass (plus rhythmn and lead guitars) have been few and far between. Which is understandable really, coming from a style of music that wears its underground credentials more proudly than most. Simian Mobile Disco, like those listed above, have brought the clubs up to the people, rather than forcing the people reluctantly down into the clubs. And it’s a no-lose situation for both sides. Simian Mobile Disco are guaranteed a nice slice of uncompeted success, whilst the ageing zeitgeist hunters can keep their finger in the region of the pulse, but their feet away from the dance floors.

Attack Decay Sustain Release allows us sun kissed indie heads to dabble in the dark side, getting that weekend vibe before going to the pub to continue the Kings of Leon debate, head back home at closing time and maybe come down with a bit of Neil Young’s Harvest.

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7th Jun 2007 - 3 comments - 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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New Young Pony Club

Fantastic Playroom

Modular

The sickly cocktail of spiky electro-pop being all too rampant on the air waves recently and this bands repeated adornment of NME covers not to mention their multi remixed advert friendly singles hasn't done these London newcomers any favors in my narrow-minded over 30 opinion but it's a good job I actually listen to some these records before attempting to review them as this debut is rather good. They may be wet behind the ears and tick all the right fashion boxes but Fantastic Playroom shows a surprising oblivion to all this.

Kicking off with gangly guitars and oozing with bass Get Lucky introduces this bands sound wonderfully.Tahita Bulmer's slightly out of tune vocal style is strangely reminiscent of Seelenluft's surprise hit Manila and backed with their blend of booming beats and percussion driven texture, seen most notably on Hiding On The Staircase, Fantastic Playroom welcomes in fond memories of the much missed Luscious Jackson.

Anyone who's switched on a tv recently will be all too familiar with this bands leading track Ice Cream. But don't let the fact that it features on an Intel advert put you off this pitch perfect piece of electro pop. In fact you probably saw the advert and made a mental note to source out this sound that was forcing your toes to tap against their anti-capitalist will, because very occasionally advert tunes are picked for their clear-cut ability to captivate an audience rather than their tendency to barge into your head uninvited and set up camp indefinitely.

Their intention is quite clear throughout this album and for the most part their desire to create no-frills danceable pop tunes works perfectly. There is very little pretension here, the lyrics are intelligent yet simple, the beats are deep and crystal clear and all the surrounding synths and effects make the whole thing utterly absorbing and very hard to resist. Grey's admission "It's alright, as long as it's black or white," goes some way to describe the simplicity of this sound but as the last notes of the fantastic closer Tight Fight ring out you can almost hear the Queen Of Pop herself illuminate a light bulb above her head having found the sound to her next album.

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6th 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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Night Of The Sunflowers

(dir. Jorge Sanchez-Cabezudo)

Spanish rape and revenge thriller that twists with each of its six chapters to reveal different, subtle shades of a complex, involving story.

A pair of bickering, aging neighbours in a small deserted village, a pot-holing expert and his wife, a married cop who works with his father-in-law, and a disillusioned travelling salesman are among the characters we meet in a dusty backwater where nothing ever seems to happen.

Another grown-up European drama, packed with tiny details that hint at rich back-stories for all the characters, without dwelling on anything for too long. Moves from being a visceral stalker chiller to almost Hitchcock-levels of multiple motivations and human interaction in extreme situations. Highly recommended if you're looking for something that doesn't have the number 3 in the title this summer.

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31st May 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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Black Milk

Popular Demand

Fat Beats

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

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

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

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

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30th May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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The Boggs

Forts

The Boggs is basically Jason Freidman and Forts is his excellent sophomore LP after 2002's We Are The Boggs We Are. Some new members have been drafted in for this album including Christian Obermaier of Schneider TM and Julian Cross of the Liars and the result is a free-flowing jumble of ramshackled post-punk musings that continuously threaten to collapse in a structureless heap but somehow manage to hold it together. Like Bruce Lee's art of 'fighting without fighting,' The Boggs policy of 'structure without structure' is what makes this record so unique and so refreshing.

Many of the songs, like Remember The Orphans, sound like a basic drum-heavy back bone has been laid down but anything else is fair game. Layered vocals shout from all over the studio to create a spontaneous, stream-of-consciousness feel to the lyrics. There is a healthy urgency to many of these songs like the furious strumming of So I So You or the toe-tapping handclaps of If We Want. But a one trick pony this is not as the raucous band practice is often punctuated with more contemplative moments like the string laden One Year On or the delicate guitar work and deep bass of The Passage. Freidman's unrefined vocal delivery coupled with the often driving music make these songs thrillingly varied.

Forts can slap you across the face with post-punk rudeness, dazzle you with indie-pop charm or slow you right down with shoe-gazing introspection. From start to finish Freidman and friends concoct a mighty broth packed to the hilt with a varied array of flavors that together create a highly entertaining listen. Recommended.

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28th May 2007 - 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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Band of Horses

Scala, London

With the departure of Matt Brooke, and the promising sounds coming from his new band Grand Archives, I was apprehensive that there would be a noticeable hole in the Band of Horses sound for tonight's show, but once Ben Bridwell took to the stage it was pretty clear who was in charge - and the wound had been well and truly healed.

His constant chat and banter quickly warmed the crowd, and a couple of a numbers quickly did the same to warm Bridwell's vocal chords. His powerful voice was the star of the show, but the value of the entire band's sheer enthusiasm cannot be underestimated.

The multitude of tattoos poking out from under shirt sleeves should have given some clues that behind the gentle looking bearded band was a hairy monster waiting to rock out. While The Funeral may well end up being their Creep, it was phenomenal live, with a sweeping majesty that was helped along by the singing crowd. The drums and two bass action of Our Swords showed some breadth to the band's style, and while there was plenty of instrument swapping it never hindered their performance. I guarantee you have never seen a man play a lap guitar like it was a flying V, but such enthusiasm lifted Great Salt Lake into a new dimension.

For probably the first time in memory the lack of songs on offer from a band with only one album never even hinted at being a problem. The band seems to have discovered a lost secret stash of moonshine with this forthcoming album, as the unlikely situation of new songs sounding as good as your old favourites was what we were treated to. The loud, rolling, bar room brawl of songs culminated in a fantastic foot stamping sing-a-long to a new track and it was certainly a million miles from the busker 're-imagining' No Woman No Cry on my tube home.

I have a new entry at number one for my albums-I-can't-wait for list, and Band of Horses have cemented their place far beyond a mere My Morning Jacket stand in.

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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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The Young Gods

Super Ready/Fragmente

Play It Again Sam

I‘ll hold my hands up and confess to not knowing a great deal about The Young Gods, which is surprising as apparently the Swiss group, formed in 1985, were a huge influence on bands such as Tool, Ministry and Nine Inch Nails.  But then maybe that's not all that surprising as those forementioned groups and their Industrial chums never really did it for me.

Apparently, The Young Gods are quite the visionaries, forever looking to reinvent their music.  Impressive then, in a Back to the Future kind of way, that new album Super Ready / Fragmenté sounds well and truly stuck in the early 1990’s.  All big-but-forgettable guitars, reverbed vocals sung with a clipped neutral European accent (or in French for the teeth-aching C’est Quoi C’est Ça) the odd Sitar now and again...  Maybe I’m missing something huge, but the whole experience just washes by, enducing nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders. Not that front man Franz Treichler would be bothered, he seems quite the optimist as he sings this eurovision-esque couplet on opener I’m the Drug.

“We’ve got dreams to share. lots of love to spare.”  OK. Goodnight.

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18th May 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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Battles

Mirrored

Warp Records

Battles first came to my attention a couple of years back. Rumours of a group featuring ex members of Don Caballero and Helmet were to these ears (on paper) the equivalent of musical nirvana (spiritual, not Seattle).  I presumed they would sound like Don Caballero, only heavier (Helmeter?) On preparing to listen to their debut EP, I was braced for a flurry of slaps round the face - only to receive a well-mannered stroke of the chin. This wasn’t musical machine guns - it was clever musical noodlings in the territory of arch-noodlers Tortoise, and well; I had Tortoise for that sort of thing.  So,  Battles slipped off the mental radar, only to sporadically reappear in the form of some live shows last year, live shows I didn’t attend but from whose reviews I learned that the drummer had a massive cymbal stand.

When Mirrored arrived in the in-tray, my memory was jogged to that early hope. After a quick, half-hearted first listen, it appeared my preconceptions were right - here were a bunch of incredibly talented and tight musicians, overly pleased with themselves for making music more enjoyable to them than the listener.  Like a series of ‘in’ jokes they were reluctant to share.

But how wrong I was. Spend some quality time with Mirrored and it soon becomes clear that it is a great record on many levels.Yes - they are having a good time, but this is by no means an exclusive party.  Opening track Race:In sets the tone nicely and is a good snapshot of what Battles seem to be about.   A driving hi-hat and snare rim percussion, and a subtle - repetitive lead guitar part - are joined at various stages in the songs 5 minutes, with whistling, chanting, chimes, what appears to be some sort of pipe percussion, a xylophone, sleigh bells, keyboards, great drum beats. And this invention, never at the cost of quality, continues over the other 10 songs, before closing with Race:Out (a speeded up/slowed down version of track one).

All of which comes together to rock hard, groove hard, be at once serious and intelligent whilst good fun and high-spirited.  Mirrored has pulled off a great trick of sounding unlike anything else, and whilst a venture into unchartered territory could require a certain level of pretension, it remains completely open and accessible to all.  Mirrored will most likely feature in end of year ‘best-of’ lists and is quite possibly the soundtrack to the best movie not yet made.  A movie where Gary Busey gets kicked in the shins by a midget. That’s the vibe of the thing.


Listen to track here (Windows Media):
Atlas
Leyendecker
Tonto
Race:Out

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

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Von Sudenfed

Tromatic Reflexxions

Domino

Getting over that tricky 37th album by starting a new band, mark e smith has teamed up with mouse on mars to produce one of his freshest sounding records in years.

it's exactly what you'd imagine - glitchy, scattery beats, MES sampled and looped, songs about sven vath djing etc. all works really well - it's in the tradition of the stuff he did w coldcut ages ago. his voice sits as well over bleeps as it does guitars (that said, there are some great distorted blow outs here too)

the single Fledermaus Can't Get It is great, and you've got to love tracks called Speech Contamination/German Fear Of Osterreich and Jbak Lois Lane - but it's Dear Dead Friends that's the real standout - the most lowkey, beautiful thing he's recorded since songs like Rose (Shift Work) or Bill Is Dead (Extricate). always liked his take on love songs, and this feels like a funeral tribute, with almost high-life guitars dancing over skipping beats

the fall album to buy if you haven't got round to buying one for a while.

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15th May 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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Zodiac

(dir. David Fincher)

In the late 60's and early 70's, the Zodiac killer claimed responsibility for a series of murders in and around San Francisco, taunting the police and the papers with cryptic letters. After detective David Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) fails to conclusively crack the mystery the case becomes dormant, until a young cartoonist (Jake Gyllenhaal) from the paper takes up the challenge.

It's been five years since David Fincher's last effort (the overblown and disappointing Panic Room), and with the opening 20 minutes of Zodiac it's clear he has a far more inspiring story to work with here. The film quickly demonstrates it's support for the Scorcese style of film-making, with the period setting of the story evocatively re-created, some great montages and a high volume soundtrack that works exceptionally well - using Santana, Donovan and other 60s icons, to (relatively subtly) create a believable world for the story to exist in.

Fincher seems to have found his feet a bit more that usual here, steering away from his move overt technique tricks and producing an elegant film, with some excellent directorial flourishes. The opening shot sets the scene superbly in July 4th California, there's a magnificent tracking shot of a taxi from above, and a similar shot following of the first letter to arrive at The Chronicle newspaper.

The acting throughout is superb, but some of the performances are restricted by the slightly clunky format of at least the middle of the film. As the timeline shifts forward at a variety of rates ('2 months later', '20 minutes later', '4 years later') it becomes hard to sustain the supposed 'reign of terror' that the killer had over the state, but once things settle down it finds it's feet nicely. That unfortunately leaves Robert Downey Jnr's character a bit redundant, and focus shifts over to cartoonist Robert Graysmith's developing interest in solving the case. Strangely, that provides a lot more suspense and twists in the plot, with the unsolved nature of the case leading to a bit of speculation, but also some surprises.

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15th 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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Brother Ali

The Undisputed Truth

The second full album from Brother Ali sees him turn a recent divorce, being a single dad and coping with losing his mother to cancer into more than a few tasty nuggets of hard hitting, intelligent hip hop. Since his debut Shadows On The Sun, Brother Ali has often become a breath of fresh air in this hip hop game blending well crafted lyrics with bass heavy, rolling beats. As a devout Muslim his raps have always been very earnest which set my alarm bells ringing from the start. While the constant tirade of thug rap bores the hell out of me there's something about rap with an overly positive message that makes me cringe, even if what they are saying is what I believe. But Brother Ali repeatedly avoids this pit fall often peppering this outlook with normal behavior like swearing and the odd bit of comedy.

To be honest, Shadows On The Sun blended these things more successfully and this album is starting to show signs of over-seriousness, a road Blackalicious took a while ago and their creativity has never recovered. A lot has happened to Ali since his debut which would explain this shift. His now ex-wife seems to have tried to kill him and her demise has left him in sole custody of his son, for the whole story see Walking Away. There has also been a war or two (Letter From The Government.)

But running through all this is what makes Brother Ali so individual, his flow. He has a style that can bring to mind Nelly or 50 Cent but is at the same time totally unique and with Atmosphere's Ant concocting deep, thundering beats the result is addictive. He can alter this style for slower beats (Here) making them intimate and then rise gloriously to beats like the awesome The Puzzle or the fierce Listen Up. The album is very well paced giving the listener time to recover with light numbers like Take Me Home and Uncle Sam Goddamn the kind of bumping swagger that would be ideal to bounce to in a low-ride ...if only my Nissan could handle it.

Though not quite so appealing as his debut, The Undisputed Truth is better than most and being an albino muslim rapper he can't help to make hip hop that looks at things differently. As long as he can keep his faith to a footnote and maintain his unique ability to spit the hard rhymes as well as the laid back tracks then he will continue to be a worthy light in these dark times.

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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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Dave Derby

...And The Norfolk Downs

Reveal Records

Being a paid up member of both fraternities I see certain similarities between the lot of a music fan and a singleton on the dating scene. Having fallen head over heels before both are ever optimistically on a quest for new loves. Each new date or act that comes by could be 'the one' but even if not hopefully there will be some fun to be had along the way. And all singletons know that to find the 'one' it is necessary to kiss a few frogs or spend a few nights on mattresses rendered uncomfortable by the strategic placement of a rock hard pea. Listening to Dave Derby reminded me of blind dates, and in particular ones that were not very successful. Dave Derby is not a prince dressed up as a frog, he's just a frog.

As with any blind date the agreement to listen to Dave was undertaken in good faith. Aside from getting the gender wrong in this case I decided to proceed on the basis that the match making skills of the Chimpomatic machine have served me well in the past. The prospects of a suitable hook up were not harmed by pre-date reports that Dave Derby was akin to Ryan Adams, a man who's music is often hit and miss but can verge on the sublime when it hit mode. The date had a promising start too. The introductory seconds of opener 'Come on Come on' echoed Neil Young's 'Out on the weekend' - the beguiling introduction to his classic album Harvest. The initial mood lulled me into believing that maybe Dave Derby could be the one, it had something of the sweet melancholy of Beck's Seachange about it - promising as this was one of my more recent loves. So like a date, where the mood is right, the introduction reliable, the venue cool and the company looking good I was confident this could be a night to saviour. That is until Dave opened his mouth.

The problem with Dave Derby is that his voice is rather middle of the road and consequently boring - after a while it becomes something of an endless drone. It is the musical equivalent of glazing over the eyes and hearing almost nothing said by your dinner companion. Even when the effort is made to tune it to what is actually being spoken the lyrical rhymes are lazily predictable ("baby what am I gonna do, I just don't know how I'll get over you"). Though he tries to be edgy and left-field the prevailing sense is of a sentimentality typified by 'You Got to Go' that would be a little to syrupy for Jack Johnson or even the Lighthouse Family. It all just reminded me of a date with no passion or spark. OK, so love may not be on the agenda but a little adventure wouldn't go a miss. If only I had thought to arrange a call from a friend giving me an 'escape early' get out clause from this bad date.

After a full listen to '...And the Norfolk Downs' I assessed the album as one does after a bad date. Maybe the problem wasn't with them, maybe it was me, perhaps I was in the wrong frame of mind, or maybe I just didn't give them a fair crack of the whip? After all it would be harsh to say Dave Derby was entirely without charm. The drumming on songs like 'Albuquerque' has a languid almost lazily hypnotic feel. The hammond organ on 'Baby' briefly does its best to brighten things up. And occasionally, such as on 'My Back Issues', Dave is canny enough to know that he wants to sound like Willy Mason even if he doesn't quite know how to. So being the fair minded type I am I gave Dave another chance, and, in the interests of reviewing accurately, a few more chances too. But as with dates, I should've trusted my gut instinct rather than give into eternal optimism. Dave Derby is still a frog and won't turn into a prince no matter how many times you kiss or listen to him.

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7th May 2007 - 4 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

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Lavender Diamond

Imagine Our Love

Rough Trade

Hot on the heels of February's Cavalry Of Light EP comes this debut album from LA based Lavender Diamond.

Things start well with opening track Oh No taking a simple lyric "When will I love again" and repeating it over and over - pounding it home and giving the words untold emotion and power.  Lead single Open Your Heart is also highlight and it comes as little surprise that Decemberists vocalist Colin Meloy is a big fan (providing a cover of the same track as a b-side on the single) as is Devendra Banhart The eclectic styles of those two references provide some idea of the scenes this band have come out of. The band is most clearly defined in that ever expanding genre of undefinable. Becky Stark's vocals are the focus of the entire album and they are surrounded by a multitude of style and influences.

The bass and piano of Open Your Heart have a near showtune sound ("Downtown!"), there are touches of opera, musicals, and a hefty dose of Carole King and Brill Building nostalgia (wait, didn't I say all this last time? Maybe they're not so hard to define after all). Like An Arrow uses the old repeating lyrics game again, but this time with a more low-key effect, and things pick up again with the catchy pop of Here Comes One - another highlight.

Starks' vocals are undoubtedly fantastic, and the album makes a very pleasant listen that would be perfect dinner party sound-tracking. Unfortunately that's not enough, and the EP having stolen away some of the better tracks. They don't do anything wrong here, it's just that the excitement and originality of the EP is lost and the tracks here already seem less ambitious and slightly stale. After 51 minutes the undefinable just starts to sound a little too familiar.


You can listen to 4 tracks here (all in Windows Media format):

Open Your Heart
Oh No
Like An Arrow
Here Comes One

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7th May 2007 - 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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#Locochimpo

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

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Plate Six

Battle Hymns For A New Republic

One Little Indian

This is more like it.  In these hostile times, with the man who gives monkeys a bad name hovering his unopposable thumb over the button, you’d have thought there would be more anger and aggression coming to the musical fore.  Sure, there have been numerous songs of discontent, but in lacking an edge they come across as a slow-handclap from  the W.I.  To be honest I don’t even know if Alabama’s Plate Six are pissed off with señor Bush per se - but they are damned pissed about something.  Their record is called Battle Hymns For A New Republic, a manifesto backed up by their music; music at the frontline, heavily armed with sonic molotovs.

It comes as no surprise that they are inspired by Fugazi.  After a 50 second opening of feedback (buckle up kids), singer David Hickox’s call-to-arms shout on As The Pinson Turns is eerily similar to Fugazi front man Ian Mackaye - and yes, Plate Six are worthy of being mentioned in the same snarl as the DC legends.  Deeming a bassist unnecessary, Hickox, fellow guitarist Darryl Jacks and drummer Brad Davis rip through 11 tracks without letting the pace slack, closing with the 11 minute epic Maximalist Anthem.  It’s powerful, adrenalin charged stuff - but not just for the sake of it. The interplay between the two guitars and the excellence of the drumming gives each tune it's individual hook.

Along with Fugazi, Plate Six cite the wandering guitar work of Polvo and the noise and chaos of Sonic Youth as influences. They also remind me of another of my Hall-of-Famers, At The Drive In - who could do pissed-off better than anyone.  Don’t get me wrong, a lot of music out at the moment is nice enough, but maybe too nice - the aural equivalent of sticking your head in the sand.  Battle Hymns For A New Republic grabs your head out of the sand, shakes it by the ears and gets your hearts and minds rocking hard.

Watch the video for Instant Fence: Windows / Quicktime

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#chimpovich

1st May 2007 - 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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#CSF

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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#chimpovich

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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#Muxloe

27th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

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The Dirt

Mötley Crüe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#BW

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

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