Chimpomatic

The National

Shepherd's Bush Empire, London

As a non smoker I'm a big fan of the smoking ban but last night I saw it's down side. The National's front man Matt Berninger has always maintained a sultry persona as he drapes himself on the mic with a cigarette as smoldering as his lyrics, but without it he looked awkward and fidgety and almost ill at ease with performing. This, coupled with his bands insistence on rocking out at the end of pretty much every song made for a surprise drop in favor for the band that, until In Rainbows popped up, held the top spot for their stunning Boxer album.

First of all, lets get this in context. There may have been a drop in favor but that only took them down to 'not the best gig of the year.' Boxer is such a rich album and it translated badly live is all I'm saying. Like LG stated in his review of the Glasgow show, they seem to be forcing the issue of being a rock band by elevating many of the songs to full-on guitar frenzy finales when it really doesn't need it. Like an approaching tsunami Matt's vocals get buried by the overwhelming size of the music and when the lyrics are as strong as Berninger's it is not wise to lose them in swelling instrumentation. But as the front man drifts to the back of the stage the crazy violinist seems all too happy to take his spot at front and centre.

But as the show progressed they seemed to settle into it a bit more and their natural brooding power came out in songs like Daughters Of The Soho Riots and Ada. Alligator's songs were not treated to as much elevation and so had more of a complete strength to them. Fake Empire is an instant live anthem with Boxer's fantastic drumming raising the already frothing crowd to a clap-along high. This was maintained with the fierce Mr November where Berninger displayed a rare moment of animation by balancing at the front of the crowd and with the words "I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders," he really looked on the verge of launching himself into the sea of adoring hands.

This is a band nearing the top of their game musically but they still seem uncomfortable live. They need to discover who they are on stage like they have done on record so perfectly. Maybe they're better in Paris where the smoking ban is yet to kick in.

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8th Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Castanets

In The Vines

Asthmatic Kitty

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

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

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

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7th Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Murcof

Cosmos

Leaf

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

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

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

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

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2nd Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Pela

Anytown Graffiti

Great Society

You can look down the mouthwatering list of releases set for a year ahead and form a pretty good idea of what's in store. This year we have certainly had our fair share of expected treats but when an album like Pela's debut Anytown Graffiti pops up off the radar the treat is even more sweet to the taste. Pela are 4 guys from Brooklyn and together they make deep, heartfelt music that rises on mesmeric rhythms and soars with front man Billy McCarthy's frenzied, earnest vocals.

I must confess, I first fell in love with The National during their 2005 release Alligator, then tracked through their back catalogue fueling my addiction and desperately making up for lost time. Although I missed their 2005 EP All The Time I feel to be joining Pela from the ground floor and it feels good. The National comparison is also apt as Pela's blend of emotional song writing and rich compositions evokes Matt Berninger's light touch and sensitivity. Musically they are both drummers bands and the constant, driving rhythm here forms the structure with all manner of instruments hitching a ride.

As the military drum roll of Waiting On The Stairs counts us in McCarthy's pent up howl sounds raw and unkempt against the tight and minimal music. The album highlight comes early in the form of Lost Of The Lonesome. It's a sparse, hollow song that slowly opens up to a chiming, pastoral rock anthem. The lyrics tell of loneliness and love flailing in hopeless desperation and McCarthy's delivery reflects this perfectly. Their first ep was a more gentle affair than this and Anytown Graffiti shows a remarkable maturity already since 2005 with their sound rising to a more confident scale while also maintaining the soft gentleness of their earlier work. The Trouble With River Cities and the beautiful Your Desert's Not A Desert At All both reflect this sensitivity and display a compellingly understated melancholia.

Like The National, Pela's songs are full of ambiguities and wonderfully emotive lyrics that evoke strange and surreal imagery. An uneasy feeling of struggle to comprehend this modern life is very much present here but nothing is spelled out. In this thematic haze lurks paranoia, confusion and sadness but also a deep romanticism that holds this album high on its shoulders. It's a huge album but will never tell you so. It will just keep dropping hints with every listen. So here we are on the ground floor, who knows how high this thing goes but the views already pretty good from here so I'm in it for the long haul. Going up?

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29th Oct 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Death Proof

(dir. Quentin Tarantino)

Tarantino's 5th movie has many similarities to his first, the classic Reservoir Dogs. It is truly one of a kind, you will grimace and wince all the way through, you will have never seen anything like it and as it finishes you will be left with the same jaw-dropping disbelief. But... there is one slight difference. Death Proof is one of a kind because you will be hard pushed to summon to the front of your mind a movie this bad, you will grimace out of boredom or acute irritation and the disbelief you are left with is how you could willingly let a jumped up prick like Tarantino into your home to rob you of two hours of your life. They are precious two hours, you could pick your toe nails right down till they bleed, you could spend it watching Blair Witch 2 or reruns of Joey, anything would be more productive than this.

From start to finish this film is a fake, and I know that Tarantino has based his career on rip offs but that used to be a strength, clever and intelligent emulation of subversive genres was what he did best but he's really over stayed his welcome with Death Proof, like a friend who you let stay on your couch for one, maybe two great nights out but now you find has been there for years, eaten all your food, slept with your wife and is still telling the same boring jokes. The writing was on the wall after Kill Bill, another tired piece of self indulgence, but at least that seemed tongue-in-cheek enough to get away with it. Death Proof is like watching an A-level film class where the student sites Tarantino as his all-time favorite film maker ever in the whole world ever. It's like watching a bunch of semi-hot-but-not-really chics talking like a Tarantino character because he is, like, the best director in the whole history of directors in the whole world ever. It's like someone released the out-takes of Death Proof by mistake, the hours and hours of snappy, clever-as-my-fucking-arse-hair dialogue that was never used as it had nothing to do with anything. This is why the world invented editors.

I'm trying to describe in detail the shortcomings of this film to justify my hatred because after all, it's not enough to say you hate a piece of art without providing back up for your views but like a police officer or counselor trying to get details out of a trauma victim my mind is blank. I have no details in my head, just emotion, all consuming irritation. If I was to be mugged on my way home tonight, slugged in the gut and all my worldly possessions stolen I would still hobble away more satisfied than I felt after Death Proof. If I was to be in a car accident and all my memory erased except for the Police Academy movies I would consider myself blessed that the mighty Lord above didn't leave me with any recollection of Death Proof.

If anyone disagrees with my views on this film then I'm sorry but you're a brain dead moron who thinks Tarantino is, like, the best film maker in the whole history of film making in the whole world ever. We have a comments facility on this site so if you want a fight then step up bitch.

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25th Oct 2007 - 9 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Iron & Wine

The Shepherd's Dog

Sub Pop

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

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

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

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

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

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30th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Mike Wexler

Sun Wheel

Amish

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

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

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

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

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20th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

M. Ward

Duet For Guitars No.2

M Ward's debut album gets its second re-release since its initial conception in 1999 and it's a fine time to see this talent at its raw, stripped down beginning. This serves as a kind of sketchbook compared to the masterstrokes that are his recent offerings. The music is underproduced but the result is Wards natural born penchant for melody. His voice is still relatively unpredictable at this point and can be heard wavering a few times but as a whole its a pretty impressive place for a career to start. It shows the distance this song writer has come but it has an amazing maturity for a debut album.

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17th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Angels Of Light

We Are Him

Young God Records

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

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

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

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

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14th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Okkervil River

The Stage Names

Jagjaguwar

As the first beats of The Stage Names creeps into audible view any fan of this band will undoubtedly realise that times have changed since the fantastic Black Sheep Boy, Okkervile River's 2005 desperate triumph. With The Stage Names, front man Will Sheff has again managed a triumph but its of a wholly different nature. I guess you could call it a triumphant triumph which I would have thought was the best type. Black Sheep Boy had the power to almost drown you in melancholy as Sheff's tales of woe and despair were delivered with treacle like denseness over all encompassing soundscapes. Though he has by no means cheered up he is aiming his desperation to the heavens and the result is epic.

Sheff writes like a novelist and composes songs full of mysterious characters and plays out his worldly misgivings through each of their sad, broken-down lives. While Black Sheep Boy conjured up images of a time long past The Stage Names is very much rooted in the present. Here we see Sheffs characters as musicians, fans or failing victims of the show-biz mangle. All this is told with Sheff's unique lyrical ambiguity as he manages to swamp you with bookish poetry while always slipping a wink here and there to warn you not to take it all too seriously.

The first three tracks set the tempo high as the dirty riffs of Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe count you in, Unless It Kicks is an endlessly climbing rock powerhouse of a track while A Hand To Take Hold Of The Scene has a swaggeringly jovial jaunt as satisfying as a Love Cats-era Cure and as it descends into blasts of trumpet and backing 'doo doo doo's' we could be listening to Spoon. (Yes, it's that good.) But as thrilling as this opening run of songs is we know it can't continue and it just wouldn't be the same without Sheff providing us with ample opportunity to give in willingly to his unavoidable wave of blissful melancholia. Savannah Smiles is an achingly delicate tale of regret and lost moments while Girl In Port is Sheff at his storytelling best.

But if for some unimaginable reason, like you're mental, all this hasn't managed to convince you by the time you get to the penultimate John Allyn Smith Sails then you're given one last chance to reach out and grab this sorry talent by the scruff of its dirty neck. This is Sheff's tribute to the late John Berryman and it's his finest moments to date. Sheff adopts the first person as he chronicles the poets suicide but as a final twist of the grimmest humor he turns the song into a masterful rendition of the Beach Boys Sloop John B. As he launches himself to his death 'with a book in each hand,' the sorry admission, "this is the worst trip I've ever been on," rings out with laughable desperation and this songwriters genius is immortalised for ever.

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7th Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Lightning Dust

Lightning Dust

Jagjaguwar

Who would have thought that the strange and beguiling space-rock monster of Black Mountain would bear so much fruit since its magnificent debut in 2005. This awesome beast has spewed from its depths many fascinating side projects and this most recent one is no exception. Formed by Amber Webber and Joshua Wells this debut album is the total opposite to the mothership's blend of psychedelic rock and penetrating guitars and yet touches the same grand heights. Webber's haunting vocals form the backbone of the sound and the result is a compelling collection of songs that have the quiet power to make you shiver with icy discomfort as in the hollow Take Me Back. Webber's vocal depth was only hinted at on the Black Mountain debut but its power is fully realised here. She sings with such ease and yet commands an epic respect. Her voice can seem up-close and intimate as in the beautiful Castles And Caves and yet conjure up visions of sprawling, desolate landscapes seen on one of the albums highlights Heaven.

Lightning Dust sees Webber emerge from the other side of the dominating rock of Black Mountain with proof that the time spent in its all-encompassing shadow only strengthened her talents and in many respects informed her own work. One of the interesting things about this record is its ability to suggest the same vastness and space as Black Mountain but with a much lighter touch. It's a delicate thing that evokes grandeur by offering emptiness and is another tick in the box of this Vancouver collective and its fantastic record label Jagjaguar.

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3rd Sep 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Menomena

Friend And Foe

City Slang

Friend And Foe is the debut UK release for avant-garde US trio Menomena and it could just be the most interesting indie rock record since TV On The Radio's Return To Cookie Mountain. This is actually their third album and it presents itself as an amalgamation of various musical experiments. It is clear that there is no real leader in this band and that as a whole the group is packed full of ideas each wanting a shot at the title. Vocal duties are shared from one song to the next and musically it's all over the place. But what makes this record so rare is that instead of being the groups undoing, all this fragmentation serves to enrich the sound and actually becomes the uniting force running through everything.

Multiple vocalists is normally a recipe for disaster in my opinion. The listener will undoubtedly warm towards one sound and then reject the rest. Not the case here and the result is a musical spectrum that spans the afore mentioned TV On The Radio as in the opening track Muscle'n Flo, The Flaming Lips (Wet And Rusting) and even a touch of Folk Implosion (Air Aid). But though these comparisons may present themselves they are by no means the lasting talking point about this record. It is thrilling to hear an album that offers you so much choice from the minimal and rhythmical Weird to the astral bliss of My My not to mention the chaos of The Pelican, a whiskey soaked bar room brawl of a song that pounds its heart out until finally collapsing into a heap of crashing cymbals and screeching guitars.

Musically there is so much to sink your teeth into here but once you've found out a thing or two about this band you'll see that they stand alone in their complete vision of creating a record. The wall-of-sound music is painstakingly crafted using a complicated series of improvised loops that are recorded and arranged using a computer program developed by one of the band members Brent Knopf called Deeler. Though this computer manipulation is hardly recognizable in the finished product the bands meticulous attention to detail is glaringly obvious, shown also in the cover art designed by Craig Thompson, acclaimed creator of the graphic novel Blankets. This features a tangled mesh of drawings that change and evolve throughout the multiple permutations available depending on whether the CD is in the case or in the player.

Though fascinating, all this only serves as a bonus to the music itself. This is a band dedicated to their craft and it shows in every second of the record. Friend And Foe is the crowning achievement in the bands history and will take some skill to top but I am in no hurry to see what they do next as I feel I've only scratched the surface of this wonderful creation.

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24th Aug 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Kinski

Down Below It's Chaos

Sub Pop

Like a hit-man's shot to the head, silenced through a pillow, Kinski's third album hits the target with muffled ferocity. Deep, wooly guitars rumble and thunder their way through this album sometimes accompanied by minimal vocals or simple melody but often just push forward with pounding drums as their only guide.

I would like to say that opening track Crybaby Blowout was the song that accompanied a certain 'special move' in the game Mortal Kombat where, on tapping a secret sequence of buttons your character shouted CRYBABY BLOWOUT! and rapid-fire-sucker-punched your opponent in the gut for 3.48 minutes. Sadly, it's not - but you get the gist of the awesome power with which this album opens.

And it's this power that is persistently present throughout the record whether it's with driving instrumental muscle-flexing or subdued vocal melodies. The vocals play an important part with Kinski adding much needed variety to the songs but ultimately it's the purely instrumental tracks that really drive this record. Boy, Was I Mad! is a brooding slow starter that never really seems to threaten anything but then opens up into a ferocious cacophony of thrashing guitars and crashing drums while Child Had To Catch A Train is Kinski at their best, with hard riffs backed up by whirling keyboard melodies. Whenever the band tries to show a more sensitive side like on Plan, Steal, Drive the menacing undercurrents of far off trouble creep up until before you know it you're surrounded by swirls of thumping guitars.

This may all sound quite predictable and it could easily be if handled by less competent bands but you must remember, like The Terminator, this is what Kinski do, this is all they do and they absolutely will not stop until you're dead...satisfied.

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21st Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Shearwater

Palo Santo (Expanded Edition)

Matador Records

For those slackers who missed 2006's dazzling fourth album by Shearwater, Matador are here to save your bacon with a pimped-up re-release consisting of 2 discs and new deluxe packaging featuring some stunning artwork. Palo Santo is the bands first album where Jonathan Meiburg assumes full vocal duties and the result is a grander, more rounded sound that sees them rise like a phoenix from the thick melancholy that engulfed their earlier work. This isn't to suggest that this isn't melancholy. The record is inspired by the life of Warhol muse Nico so it isn't going to be a bag of laughs but while they keep to the icy chill that has become their trademark Palo Santo serves up many moments of awesome grandeur only hinted at on previous records.

Formed in 2001 by Meiburg and Will Sheff, Shearwater was meant to be a vehicle for the quieter songs penned by the two musicians while working on their principle collaboration, Okkervile River. But after the addition of new multi-instrumentalists Shearwater soon grew way beyond initial intentions and Palo Santo is their crowning glory.

La Dame Et La Licorne opens the album and actually mirrors the career of this band quite nicely. It creeps into view with Meiburg's frail, quivering voice barely audible but gradually swells to thumping piano and howling declarations. And this sets us up for Red Sea, Black Sea, one of the albums many highlights. This takes no time to pound with all its heart on the galloping rhythm that dominates this song. It's these moments of real muscle that make this record pull away from the bands back catalogue and race forward with renewed energy and confidence. Seen again in White Waves' gritty electric guitar and Seventy Four, Seventy Five's pounding piano. Having said that, there's still plenty of room for the feather-light delicacy of the title track and the achingly beautiful Failed Queen where hollow landscapes are created with sparse acoustic guitar and the frail musings of Meiburg.

This element is explored in more depth on the second disc where we get demo versions of four of the original tracks. These are drastically stripped down renditions showing the extent to which this vocalist can vary his delivery. Having seen the heat of this voice on the first CD we now get the drifting whisper like a feint trail of smoke from a newly extinguished flame. There are also 4 new songs on this bonus disc including a cover of Skip James' Special Rider Blues.

This is an expansive album from a band who started from humble beginnings but are now evolving into a great rock outfit. Shearwater have always fitted into a tradition of songwriting that seems to capture the great American landscape in all its sparse, lonely beauty but with Palo Santo they have started to evoke the power and strength of this landscape and this refurbishment only serves to enhance that.

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20th Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Thee More Shallows

Book Of Bad Breaks

Anticon

The third album sees this San Francisco trio up their game from shoegazing atmospherics to damn near post-rock genius. This shift in approach has led them to the hallowed grounds of the Anticon arena in which they are free to roam anywhere they please. And roam they do, but the success of this album lies both in the distance from which this band strays from the post-rock centre and the trail they leave behind allowing a route home at all times. This route may not be easy to find but it's always there and knowing this enables the listener to trust these guys to take them where they will.

Created in a similar spirit to Anticon favorites Why? or Fog, Thee More Shallows tread a fine line between coherency and shambles threatening to fall apart at any moment. Conventional song structure is turned on its arse with many songs masquerading as lo-fi, throwaway ditties then exploding into grand moments of majesty like on the epic Night At The Night School. Starting out all soft and warm the drums soon pick up to a running pace and reach heights you never thought possible at the beginning. Or sometimes doing the opposite as in The Dutch Fist. Here Dee Kesler's vocals are fed through a synthesizer and slowly build to glorious melodies then collapse in a dirty heap of drums and fuzz.

Songs are divided up and flow together masterfully with great use of instrumental interludes. Int.1 is a blissful string section that leads you into false security before it slides into a pummeling onslaught of hard-as-hell guitars. This leads into the awesome Proud Turkeys that continues this punk barrage until Int.2 which reunites us with the strings and tricks us into thinking it's all one song.

Towards the end of the record we get The White Mask, a song which really does mirror this album as a whole. It plods along for the first 4 minutes then dwindles into virtually nothing. Then just as it seems to be hanging on by a thread it pulls it all back together and launches itself in a cloud of fuzz and drums skyward for a final crashing finale.

This is an expertly crafted album that often tries to trick us into thinking it's a lo-fi waste of time. But on reaching the end you aren't sure what you've just been listening to but you'd quite like to start again and find out. It's a brave step forward for this band and now sees them in the kind of musical area where they have earned the right to do anything they please. Highly recommended.

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7th Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Fabienne Delsol

Between You And Me

Damaged Goods

This is the follow up to Delsol's 2004 debut No Time For Sorrows and it sees her continue her blend of 60's swing and cheeky euro-pop. She has a wonderfully playful voice that works best when sung in her native French tongue as in the album opener Vilaines Filles Mauvais Garcons and the gentle country tinged warmth of Pas Gentille. This is not to say that songs like debut single Catch Me A Rat don't fill the listener with delight. These are simple songs but it's their simplicity that charms and the swinging nostalgia that dominates much of the record is in no way contrived.

Leave Her For Me or Don't Throw Your Love Away could be the soundtrack to a 60's high school prom, or at least the French equivalent, while Loot has all the arrogance of a franco-Kinks. Whether it's Hawaiian style guitars, acid rhythms or foot-tappingly chirpy organs, Delsol's achingly sweet tales of love lost and found are stunningly addictive. One glimpse of her voice will have you smitten and your heart will be forever hers. If you ever bought a Nouvelle Vague record you should be ashamed of yourself, this is the real deal.

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3rd Aug 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Miracle Fortress

Five Roses

Rough Trade

It's no coincidence that the release of Miracle Fortress' debut album happens to coincide with the belated start of the british summertime. Montreal based multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Graham Van Pelt must be a powerful man indeed to keep the sunshine at bay until he felt fit to offer this album to the world as one play of this idyllic piece of work will tell you where the nice whether has been for all this time. Listening to Five Roses is like lying on your back looking up at the sun, shimmering and dancing between the branches of a sheltering tree. As it blows gently in the breeze shards of light make their way through the foliage to intermittently soak you in their warmth. I include the tree in this analogy because this isn't just your sun bleached, airy-fairy pop record, it's much more varied than that. Van Pelt's vocals drift effortlessly on soaring thermals of delicate synths but also march triumphantly alongside pounding drums and joyous guitars.

Records of this type can often stay out too long in the sun and end up with no real focus to punctuate the breezy soundscapes. Opening track Whirrs puts that to right straight away with it's stomping rhythm and driving guitars. It's not the rising warmth of the rest of the record but it tells us unequivocally to feel free to plan the barbecue cos it's gonna be blue sky's from here on in. Debut single Have You Seen Her In Your Dreams is pure bliss with its soft melodies that will melt any heart and dispel any recollection of winter. Maybe Lately takes a slightly different path to your affection with it's Brian Wilson harmonies and jaunty baselines while Hold Your Secrets To Your Heart is a gently progressing but ultimately triumphant pop master stroke.

The album has a definite progressive structure as it steadily enlarges on this hopefulness throughout the forty three minutes. From the delicate droplets of warmth of the first half songs like Blasphemy with its midway gear shift slowly increase the downpour until the finale of This Thing About You provides us with the full panoramic view of the glorious ocean spread out before us. Granted, this song could evoke images of a T Mobile advert where a guy smugly struts around town on his phone without a care in the world purely cos he's got 400 free minutes, but stick with it and these appalling images will soon melt away. It's a triumphant end to a beautiful day.

Not since I discovered the highs of Loney, Dear's Sologne have I been this satisfied with a record. This is pure comfort without being easy listening. It's blissfully engaging and shimmers and shines as if soaked in light. Highly recommended.

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

Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Is Is

Wichita

And so the YYY juggernaught rolls on, unstoppable in it's strength and relentlessness. Hot on the heals of the spectacular second album, Is Is shows them expanding to a more fuller sound. Their sound is, on the whole a more polished gem compared to the earlier eps and debut album but in place of grit we get profound depth that manifests into dazzling might. From the rumbling and stabbing ferocity of opener Rockers To Swallow it sure is good to have this New York outfit back in our ears even if it's only for a brief 17 minutes. Karen O's vocals are as blood curdling as ever as she coughs up throaty howls from the depths of her being. Down Boy is a more contemplative affair with deep, rumbling tension while Is Is displays soaring melody over dark plodding drums.

10 x 10 pounds in with echoing, resounding guitars that sound like metal piping being bashed together. It's a perfect example of the multi layered structure that give this band their shambolic, raw edge. They are an immaculately tight band but somehow give the impression of chaos. They can clash and pound around so hard that you can almost feel the reverb down your body but then they'll sweep it all up and come at you head on in a focused shot of teeth-baring rock. This maybe an interlude ep but in it's 5 songs the YYY's display more ideas that most band do in a whole career.

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27th Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Bill Callahan

Woke On A Whaleheart

Drag City

Enough praise has been showered on Joanna Newsome in these hallowed pages over the past year or so that it's only fair to give her other half a word or two - if only to avoid any awkward moments round the Newsome/Callahan dinner table. After a long and prosperous relationship with Drag City, Woke On A Whaleheart sees Callahan emerge from the (Smog) and release this little gem under his own name. Though all the trappings of a (Smog) record are present here the name thing isn't the only change that's occurred since 2005's A River Aint Too Much To Love. Callahan's deadpan delivery and startlingly simple poetry have always been the driving force behind his music. Like a tree in the depths of winter Callahan's music has always stood proudly firm in it's stark nakedness and this is where it's beauty lay but as special as this may be it's great to see a new spring time creep into this sound and with Woke On A Whaleheart the tree is starting to bloom.

This analogy seems a fitting one as much of Callahan's lyrics are to do with nature. The opening track continues the river theme where the previous album left off. From The Rivers To The Ocean is the gentlest of openers with deep piano chords and soaring strings. First single Diamond Dancer is more rhythmical while Sycamore is pure bliss. It's a beautiful piece of work with Callahan's baritone musings tunefully weighting down the delicate finger picking that floats effortlessly around this song. Callahan is also joined by some gospel infused backing vocals that feature frequently on this album giving the whole thing some subtle religious undertones. The Wheel continues the country traditions honored by Callahan in the past as does Day with it's rolling saloon piano structure.

The whole extravaganza is brought to a close with a marvelous slow builder that sees Callahan sounding like a modern-day Johnny Cash. It rumbles along slowly picking up instruments and layers along the way until they all come together for the repeated chorus, " A man needs a woman or a man to be a man." It's a glorious end to this album and shows the old Smog tree in full bloom like never before. The inclusion of backing vocals and layers of instruments to accompany the lonely yet warm vocals and guitar have provided much meat to these bones and though it by no means discredits the work that has gone before it signals a welcome new dawn for this avant-garde mystery man.

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9th Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Dogs

Tall Stories From Under The Table

Weekender

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

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

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

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

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

Clinic

Funf

Domino

Like an international friendly, the B-Side is often an opportunity to see an artist discover new heights while the pressure is off, it's a chance for new elements of their game to be given an airing and for these elements to be shown the luxury of a total removal from any grand context, be it a tournament or an album. But as with nearly every friendly under Sven's reign a collection of B-sides and rarities can often turn into a total mishmash of experimentation and half baked ideas. And at the risk of killing this perfectly good analogy, England's friendly against Brazil the other week proves that even the best team in the world can be caught out by a bunch of cretins if they're not careful. So, as awesome as Clinic have performed in the past, I approached Funf with caution for all the reasons stated above.

I may conclude with a cheeky football reference but for now this analogy is over, I promise. This collection gives a pretty concise cross section of Clinic's history but for that reason it sometimes trips itself up. It spans a career that started on a high note with their debut Internal Wrangler right up to last years fantastic Visitations and it really shows the quality of a band when a collection such as this is not easily mapped chronologically. The singles off the debut are as varied as the album itself. Magic Boots is a raw piece of early dirt-rock while the album opener The Majestic holds all the sparse, eeriness of a time long forgotten.

Nicht, off 2004 album Winchester Cathedral's The Magician, is a furious onslaught of pure filth and is not a pleasant listen with its underproduced, tinny teeth bearing but is thankfully followed by one of the albums highlights. Christmas shows Clinic strip away all the noise and allow their uneasiness all the space it needs, Ade Blackburn's clenched teethed vocals quiver over delicate guitar and their trademark organ.

It's hard to imagine any single off the latest album mixing in less than impeccable company and Lee Shan, the flip side to the awesome Harvest (Within You) doesn't let the side down. It has all the twisted surf-rock delight of it's A-side with a steady build up of jangling guitars and Blackburn's forced vocals brimming over with tension. One of the main delights on this collection is when these vocals are removed and the music is allowed centre stage. The album closes with Golden Rectangle, a marvelously underplayed instrumental that illustrates perfectly why this band is so unique. Their music evokes a nostalgia that isn't easily identified as it often sounds like it's coming from the vast halls of an empty ballroom once occupied and full of life but is now full of echoes and ghostly voices that accompany the eery melodies of melancholia. 

And so being English the mere mention of the word melancholia brings be back to my football analogy. This collection of 'Friendlies' is very much a mixed bag where we have seen over the years Clinic try out some new ideas that haven't worked and indulge themselves in some areas of their game that really have. When the pressure's off it's a joy to see this band ease up on the gas and explore the subtle nuances that make their albums so memorable. It's not the result that counts here but the quiet fine-tuning of their art in preparation for when it really counts.

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1st Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

You Say Party! We Say Die!

Lose All Time

Fierce Panda

With a catchy band name straight out of the school of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah this Vancouver 5 piece release their follow up to last years Hit The Floor. Its noisy, frenzied post-punk-disco that should tick all the right boxes with the NME demographic, but you'd be wise not to let that put you off. This sound may be running very much according to the current course of trend but it's got enough grit and ugliness to keep it this side of tired.

Vocalist Becky Ninkovic is the main reason why this band recall certain elements of The Yeah Yeah Yeah's with often shrieked lyrics being delivered over hard hitting and gloriously spiky guitars. Appearing like they're making it up as they go along this band have a refreshingly light touch that adds to the rawness of their sound. Just as Karen O and crew have polished their act up in recent times the same is probably due for this lot but as it hasn't done The Yeah Yeah Yeah's any harm this album is proof that YSPWSD can handle any growth that comes their way.

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1st Jul 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Souvaris

A Hat

Gringo

In a music scene overrun with convoluted titles such You Say Clap Your Hands We Say Yeah Yeah Yeah's (is that right?) it's a joy to review this album called A Hat. It would be such a shame if it's brief title was the only reason this record was a joy to review and thankfully it isn't. Following on from their 2005 album I Felt Nothing At All, A Hat is a smoldering powerhouse of instrumental muscle very much in the same vein as Tortoise or Explosions In The Sky but has a healthy spattering of Battles as well.

As if making up or the album's title these songs are anything but brief. Not counting the first intro the shortest song here is over eight minutes and the other 3 are all around the 14 minute mark and for a band that produce uber serious, post-rock marathons they lighten the load with their titles. The second track builds on airy, spacious melodies but gets progressively louder and harder until it finally bears its teeth in pounding guitars and drums, would you believe it's called Quit Touching My Ass?

Hand or Finger? is less sprawling and is more immediately accessible both in its length and spiky guitars and pounding drums. The album finishes on a long-haul of swelling guitars and wave upon wave of crashing symbols that suddenly drops away in place of a home straight of funky bass lines and delicate electronics, and all this under the title The Young Ted Danson.

Each song plays like a soundtrack to its own movie. They change tempo repeatedly, sometimes taking their time and sometimes giving out no warning at all. A strange sense of narrative drifts through them that really holds your attention. This way they maintain the lyrical structure but stay purely instrumental.

Souvaris have a healthy mix going on here. In formal terms they fit perfectly with their post-rock counterparts but with playfulness and a clever ear for the pop hook they manage to pull themselves out of the self-indulgent fog that often lingers for too long in this genre. There is a refreshing sense of irony about this album that if it were a person would be fun to hang around with but would also be capable of great depth. They'd back you up in a fight but could quite easily have caused it in the first place.

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28th Jun 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Editors

An End Has A Start

Sony BMG

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

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

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

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

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

Cheeseburger

Cheeseburger

Kemado

This album needs very few words to convince you that it's worth a listen. The title says it all. These guys are American (Brooklyn), they make easy to digest rock music which will taste real good on the way down but never professes to give you any lasting sustenance. It's greasy, dirty, frowned on by girls and goes well with beer.

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21st Jun 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Broken Family Band

Hello Love

Track & Field

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cut City

Exit Decades

Gold Standard Labora

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loney, Dear

Loney, Noir

Regal

It seems like only yesterday that Emil Svanangen aka Loney, Dear first took my ears gently in his hands and whispered his sweet words of quiet and unassuming beauty. Well, he's back to do it all again with a re-issue of his 2005 self-released fourth album Loney, Noir. Made around the same time as last years Sologne this new release provides more of the same. Gently uplifting ditties that skip along playfully to washes of synths, tinkering percussion, rising drums and Svanangen's now familiar vocal tones that can tip toe with delicate grace or rise to soaring falsetto at a moments notice.

Sinister In A State Of Hope takes our hand and leads us gently into this album. "All I want is a state of hope," he confesses here and from this sublime introduction he seems ever nearer to his goal. I Am John picks things up nicely and soon builds to a crescendo of just about every instrument to hand. This leads on perfectly to one of the many highlight moments on this record. Saturday Waits basically does the same as all the others, but somehow seems to raise the bar on hands-in-the-air satisfaction. On I Am The Odd One Svanangen claims "I turned the right to wrong// I came along, I brought the shade," Well tell that to my hands that have been raised skyward for so long they are going numb. This satisfaction rarely fades throughout the course of the album until we are eased out by the final two tracks that take on a more contemplative mood.

Having said all that, there is something missing here that I can't quite put my finger on but it has something to do with familiarity. I can't tell whether this record isn't as good as Sologne or Loney, Dear's spell is too much a part of my life now. After all, the warmth of the sun's rays aren't quite so comforting the more you feel them. Loney, Noir doesn't move things on from Sologne and that will be my only complaint. It seems silly to criticise this guy for providing us with more absolute bliss but I am sure he has more up his sleeve. I will undoubtedly listen to this album, along with Sologne, for as long as I feel the need for hope, warmth and sensitivity but for now I am allowing room for improvement.

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23rd Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

CocoRosie

The Adventures Of Ghosthorse And Stillborn

Touch & Go

Whoever earns a living thinking up new names to describe indescribable music leads a very sad and futile existence indeed. Sisters Bianca and Sierra Cassidy of CocoRosie have been victims of this in recent years being absorbed by the so called 'freak folk' genre. Certainly many that inhabit this ever growing genre seem to more than fit the 'freak' bill but since their mesmerizing debut La Maison De Mon Reve CocoRosie have made music so unaware of any genre that they have managed to transcend all this silliness. They seemed to create in a total artistic vacuum shutting themselves off from everything and the result was a listening experience like no other. They enticed you into their mystical world with sounds and voices so distant and foreign that it was like a dream experience. Well, having reveled in this dream undisturbed for two albums, The Adventures Of Ghosthorse And Stillborn may just be the wake-up call I was dreading.

This album is disappointing for all the reasons the first two were so unique. As mentioned earlier, their debut was was like no other - then the follow up Noah's Ark seemed to polish this rough diamond, pulling into focus all the experimentation of its predecessor. With this album they seem way too aware of themselves and the genre they have been allocated. Their beauty has always been their ability to embrace all music - from hip hop to opera to soul - but embrace it unknowingly and innocently. The Adventures of... seems to pull out all these influences and make features of them.

Noah's Ark started off with the human beatbox structured K-hole, but the vocals were delicate and subtle, as was the backing music. Rainbowarriors starts this 3rd record off with a similar idea, but the two songs couldn't be further apart. Here the vocals are blundering and obvious and the whole thing treads dangerously near to parody. This is, unfortunately, the story of the album. Where Bianca's impish squeak was so other-worldly, it has now become grating and Sierra's classically trained voice is often used with no subtlety at all.

But as I hate to be over critical I must say that it's not all bad. When they keep it simple like on Sunshine their beauty returns. Houses' ghostly piano and Sierra's soaring vocals create deep caverns of sound that contrast beautifully. The delicate homemade percussion on other songs like Raphael - who's narrative is sung with such delicate sadness - is quite moving.

Having been totally engulfed in their magical spell from the word go and then been dazzled by the live show, I was more than ready to love this album. CocoRosie are one of the most original outfits to emerge in the last 3 years and they make music the way all art should be made, however once this complete and unassuming entity is released into the world it is in danger of being dispersed. The Adventures Of Ghosthorse And Stillborn shows a crack in CocoRosie's dreamscape and the world is seeping in.

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20th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Low

Drums And Guns

Sup Pop

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

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

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

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

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19th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Bright Eyes

Cassadaga

Universal

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andrew Bird

Armchair Apocrypha

Fargo

This latest album from Chicago singer-songwriter and violinist sees the guitar take more of a center position than previous works and the result is a multi-layered piece of dazzlingly original music that is a delight to listen to from start to finish. I must take this moment to warn any readers who are sensitive to over-praise but I will be saying nothing negative about this record in this review as there is nothing negative to say.

Whether he is accompanied by former band Bowl Of Fire or trading under his own name, Andrew Bird has consistently delivered music of effortless grace and though Armchair Apocrypha sees an evolution or resolution of sounds discovered in previous albums Weather Systems and 2005's enchanting The Mysterious Production Of Eggs the core beauty to this mans music remains the same.

The source of this beauty is not too easy to pin down. Musically, Bird weaves a very rich tapestry indeed. Swathes of layered and looped violin usher in jangling guitars, glockenspiel and delicate brushed drums. Thematically it's a similar story with everything from spirituality (Darkmatter) to mortality to the current political climate (Scythian Empires) being addressed but it's all cleverly disguised in a unique poetic ambiguity. But all this wouldn't be half as beguiling if it weren't for Birds voice. This is the key to this and every album previous. Bird has much to say but he's in no hurry to say it. His effortless style can shuffle along in almost spoken word (Cataracts) then can lift to soaring falsetto like a leaf in the summer breeze (Armchairs). Pretty soon you start trusting this voice and give yourself up to its warmth and when you do your heart delights in the knowledge that it could be taken anywhere at a moments notice.

One of the most beautiful songs comes in the form of a 58 second interlude called The Supine. It's deep classical symphonies with dancing finger picking delicacies are simply divine and echo the closing track Yawny At The Apocalypse, who's purely instrumental cello and violin washes ease you out of this sublime dream world. This is truly heartfelt music from an artist devoted to his art and his world and will leave you in quiet awe of just how many strings there are to this man's bow.

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16th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Cinematic Orchestra

Ma Fleur

Ninja Tune

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

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

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

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

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

Modest Mouse

We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

Epic

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

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

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

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

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4th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

DJ Food & DK

Now, Listen Again

Ninja Tune

Every generation boasts that music was better "in their day," that it meant more, had more depth - but of course this can't possibly be the case. It's not the music that changes, but the listeners. We go through certain stages in our life where music means more to us and changes us. Unfortunately if my theory is correct then there is a multitude of people out there of an impressionable age that are being profoundly changed by the Kaiser Chiefs - but that's fine, they'll grow out of it.

I can count a few periods in my life when this has happened. Most of these happened when I was a teenager and blissfully unaware of any larger musical implications that were occurring, I was just listening to the music and relating to it. But the most recent example of this occurred during 1994 - 1997 and centered round a few record labels and one club in particular - The Blue Note in Hoxton Square. Drum & Bass was a mere child then, as too was the genre formerly known as "Trip Hop" (thank christ). During Goldie's Metalheadz Sunday night sessions and the Ninja Tune Stealth parties I really felt part of something important, that the music that was being played was particular to this time, to this club and to these people. You felt like you were present at the birth of a genre. The excitement in that club at that time was truly memorable and though all artists and labels concerned are still making great music today that feeling for me has never been replicated or matched and nor should it.

Until that is, I heard Solid Steel's latest mix tape by the legendary DJ Food & DK. In 2001 Solid Steel's front-men DJ Food (Strictly Kev, PC) and DK (Darren Knot) kicked off this compilation series with the awesome Now, Listen and it's been going strong ever since with mixes from Amon Tobin, Mr. Scruff and The Herbaliser. Now, Listen recaptured the electrifying creativity of Coldcut's now legendary Journeys By DJ mix from 1995 and this follow up strives to do the same. I'm not sure how anyone can get close to the brilliance of Coldcut's mix, but with this compilation the feeling has been renewed and updated. The important thing about these and all great mix-tapes is their eclecticism and the inability to plot their course.

Now, Listen Again is a mash-up masterclass. Things kick off with the sample "Listen, that's the sound of ground being broken, it will sound familiar" and though this may not be groundbreaking music it's the familiar sound of the ground they broke a decade ago and it still sounds fantastic. Early on we get a brilliant fusion of Eric B & Rakim and The Human League's Being Boiled and move through Ram Jam's Black Betty, Primal Scream, Aphex Twin via a masterful megamix of DJ Shadow's back catalogue that blends effortlessly into the original Organ Donor sample of Giorgio Moroder's Tears. The obvious high point on this mix is the introduction of New Order's dub mix of Blue Monday, The Beach, out of The Irresistible Force and into the dirty 2 step beat of Big Dada's Part 2 featuring Fallacy.

Now, Listen Again doesn't have the dizzy peaks of it's predecessor but is a much more even mix and over-all is a more satisfying listen. The refreshing thing about this compilation is it's willingness to take the cheesy route. As we are guided through old-school hip hop, Drum & Bass and sun-soaked soul we see tones of well disguised rarities, but also glorious amounts of well trodden crowd pleasers. Enough water has flowed under the bridge for these mash-up veterans to simply enjoy their art and this is the sound of them doing just that. Since the demise of The Blue Note, Solid Steel's exit from BBC Radio and the suffocating fad of mash-up mania the mix tape has never sounded so good as it does here. It has re-ignited the spirit of the mid 90's with a wonderful blend of honest nostalgia and forward thinking optimism and was indeed "Food For My Soul."

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2nd Apr 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Frightened Rabbit

Sing The Greys

Hits The Fan

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

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

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30th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Joakim

Monsters & Silly Songs

K7

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

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

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

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27th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet