Chimpomatic

Electrelane

No Shouts, No Calls

Too Pure

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

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

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

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

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

Blonde Redhead

23

4AD

There are some feelings in life that you simply can't beat. I'm not talking here about the grand feelings of joy or euphoria that come with such landmark events like having your first child, no I mean the kind of everyday, low key moments that produce an indiscribable feeling of utter satisfaction. Like the first sip of an ice cold beer after work on a hot summers evening, or sliding your foot into brand new socks, or finding a forgotten favorite album for £2 in a second hand record store, or putting on an album by Blonde Redhead who seem to be able to produce moments such as these with blissful ease.

Ever since 2004's Misery Is A Butterfly my heart has been in love with this band. There is something about Kazu Makino's sweet soprano vocals that make me sigh with delight. They ache with sadness yet float with effortless grace over the claustrophobic wall of sound that underlie them. She has the ability to gently take your heart by the hand and carry it away on the most perfect of melodies. Misery Is A Butterfly was the first album where this quality was brought to the forefront, moving away from the bitter squall of their Sonic Youth inspired sound of previous albums and now with 23 the change is well and truly complete.

The title track chimes in with an eery emptiness that is then discarded as you are pulled close and smothered by sound. The first glimpses of Makino's voice sees the spell cast once again and the love affair re-ignited. The voice is more energetic here and though it will always contain the traces of melancholy that make it so addictive it's more soaring and wonderful than ever on these first two opening tracks. With The Dress things open up a little and as the music is stripped down we get more space to look around and really appreciate the delicate nuances of this band. As usual vocal duties are shared between Makino and Amedeo Pace who's contributions bring valuable muscle to the proceedings with songs like SW and Spring And Summer Fall.

It's hard to talk in depth about these songs for fear of breaking the spell. Blonde Redhead's music is hypnotic, rapturous and holds within it a kind of mystical wonder that is almost impossible to pin down. They make beautiful pop songs but there seems to be something more, something special that once it has touched you you feel privileged. So with this new album my heart is once again buoyant.

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17th Mar 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Amon Tobin

Foley Room

A foley room is a place where sound effects are recorded for films. It's totally soundproof, clinical, methodical and has an eerie sense of lifelessness - except for the strange sounds that are produced there. This goes some way to describe the latest album by Ninja Tune's maestro of sound manipulation Amon Tobin. Tobin's previous work was entirely constructed from found sounds, but his sources were usually vinyl. Foley Room sees Tobin turn a corner in his compositional process and the entire album is created from recorded sounds both in the foley room using manipulated instruments and also from street life, zoo life and just about anything you can think of that makes a noise.

Of course, this has all been done before - but Tobin's unique methods and musical understanding make this a truly engaging listening experience. This record crawls, oozes, slithers, crashes, scrapes and sometimes pummels it's way through your head in much the same way that every Tobin record does, but this seems to be a lot more focused. It's a predominantly beat driven record, but the sources of these beats are so expertly masked that your ear soon stops trying to identify recognisable sounds and just allows itself to be taken over by the other-worldly quality of the sound. And this other world is no jolly romp in fields of poppies. Tobin's soundscapes are always ominous and this is no exception. The beats often seem to be created by an army of insects and the orchestral sounds that underlie all this invoke visions of impending doom. Though named after a room devoid of atmosphere, this album is all about atmosphere. It has the feeling of a soundtrack and is incredibly visual.

And talking of visuals, the LP comes with a 20 minute documentary about the making of the record and really helps to explain the process. We see Amon and his team take to the streets with highly sensitive recording equipment and dig out the tools with which this record is constructed. He visits motorbike garages, CD production factories and even a safari park where he records all manner of wildlife. Classical strings and drums are used in the foley room, but are manipulated and reconstructed through the sampling process. Peanuts are scattered on bass drums and drum kits are forged out of metal bowls of various fullness bobbing around in water pools. The interesting thing is seeing all this and Tobin crouched, headphone clad, next to the tracks as a train roars past and then listening to the record and seeing how these recordings have been used to create the most remarkable textures and how some really beautiful music has been born out of this apparent chaos.

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6th Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

David Vandervelde

The Moonstation House Band

Secretly Canadian

It seems that T Rex is having something of a comeback in 2007. What with the debut album by Ninja Tune's Pop Levi and now this - David Vandervelde's The Moonstation House Band. It has all the folk-slide 70's warmth-sleaze of the much missed Bolan but that being said it's still a fine listen. It's a brief introduction, weighing in at just over half an hour, but my appetite is certainly moistened.

In the traditions of the music it aims to emulate Vandervelde has created a concept album of sorts. Much like Bowies fictitious Spiders From Mars, this album is the sound of the mythical Moonstation House Band - a Lonely Hearts Club Band for the naughties. At least 90% of the record is Vandervaldt himself - and at the young age of 22 this is some piece of work. By consciously setting out to recapture the spirit and sound of his dad's 70's records, Vandervelde has managed to strip away all the bravado that came with this music. The camp, glam shenanigans have gone and what remains is crisp musicianship and classic melodies.

Nothin' No drifts in on a haze of woolly guitars and blissed-out vocals telling stories of "gettin' high on your front porch." It has a wonderfully nostalgic feeling to it. It's like squinting in the evening sun as you strain to see a memory long passed. Jacket picks up the pace a bit and has all the rhythmical catchiness and effortless melody of classic Bowie. Corduroy Blues is a sublime piece of orchestral delight while Can't See Your Face No More is a foot stomping anthem that if put to the closing credits to any movie would have the audience leaving the cinema on a high.

It's hard to write about this album and not dwell on the wealth of influences that have made it happen, but at no point does it hide behind these influences or collapse under them. The music oozes warmth - whether its the mid-afternoon blaze of the up-tempo tracks or the early evening haze of the slower ones it washes over you in hypnotic waves. After the lazy, peaceful close of the final track Moonlight Instrumental you feel like the lights have just been turned out on another glorious day in the sun. A day that had it all, laughter, tears, joy and pain but as you gently drift off to sleep you feel excited at what tomorrow has in store.

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1st Mar 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Autokat

Late Night Shopping

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

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

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

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21st Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Pole

Steingarten

Scape

Before I got a girlfriend who can't go to sleep until she's read Grazia cover to cover I would like nothing more than to retire to my place of rest with some good head phones. Certain albums come alive when they surround you, when all your other senses are silenced. So with the lights out and the headphones blocking out all sound an album like Mileece's Formations or Murcof's Martes would take on an incredibly powerful form. Every change in the subtle arrangement would be breathtaking when it had your full concentration. We will often take time out to read a book or watch a film but rarely show music the same respect, it's what we have on while doing something else. But some works don't play well with the others.

Though not quite as breathtaking as the previously mentioned works Pole's latest offering Steingarten may well be one of those albums. When played in the background it appears thin and repetitive, but when given the solitary treatment it is a different story. The last I heard of the Berlin based producer Stefan Betke was in 2003 - with the release of his self titled, fourth full length. This had a change up to the normal form as he enlisted the help of Fat Jon on some of the tracks. The result was adventurous yet not entirely successful. Poles music was much more stripped down maybe to accommodate the vocals but the subtle textures in his compositions were lost.

With Steingarten we still get the same reduced techno, but the compositions have a strange warmth about them. Using sampled analogue fuzz and a myriad of bleeps and clicks the attention to detail is impeccable. It's this that makes this record so special. It directs your attention to the minutia of life. If you've ever had a leaky roof you'll recognise Sylvenstein, where a delicate beat is so finely constructed out of familiar sampled sounds that it sounds like water dripping into various metal pans of varying degrees of fullness. With Schoner Land you start to notice the soft soothing repetition of the end of a record as it skips over and over. This is music that has been so meticulously constructed to appear minimal. Intricate layers of indecipherable sound are beautifully punctured by crystal clear drops of  noise. The beats are inviting in their gentleness and the melodies are used as harmonic dashes of colour but are always kept fragmentary.

The whole album ends with the stand out piece Pferd. It features the only recognisable melody on the record and loops what sounds like flute and harmonica over the same delicate tapestry of beats. It's fragility finishes the album off perfectly and you hardly dare to breath once the silence sets in. This is Poles best work to date and should be appreciated in the right context. If you give it your time it will reward you no end.

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19th Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

RJD2

The Third Hand

XL

This is the first album RJD2 has put out without the help of Def Jux Records and there's a good reason for that. His much hyped debut Dead Ringers followed on nicely from the work of DJ Shadow in the world of sampling and gave the aggressive yet progressive alt hip-hop label a new string to its bow. Then in 2004 came Since We Last Spoke. Obviously plagued by the constant comparisons to Shadow, this album signaled a shift in direction for RJD2. Still containing the sampled structure this album leaned more towards mellow vocal tracks than its predecessor taking much of its influence from 70's rock. Now in 2007 the transformation is complete. I hope the artist will forgive me for one last Shadow comparison but just as The Outsider was an album to silence all stereotypes and went to one extreme end of the musical spectrum and embraced hip hop in all its grime The Third Hand goes the other direction and almost rejects all things hip hop and embraces pop.

The fact that RJD2 has fled the Def Jux fold shows just how much he's changed direction. This album still has the impeccably produced beats but heavily relies on vocals. It's a pretty slick piece of work with some beautiful instrumental moments. Reality is one of the stand out points with a funky-ass guitar bass line sampled over a classic RJD2 break-beat that chops and changes repeatedly and weaves in and out of the singing while Get It revisits old ground as one of the few purely instrumental beat pieces. But I'm sure that I've picked out these two as highlights as they most resemble the earlier work and I'm not proud of that.

This album will not go down too well with true blue hip hop heads who followed him earlier on, and unfortunately I think I am one of those. I hate to say that - as I love artists who can break away from a successful sound and forge a new path, but this album sees a total shift in genre. This is not in any way to suggest that it's a bad album, far from it, as pop music goes this is better than most. The production is impeccable, the beats strong and the whole thing floats on a multi textured bed of strings, samples and synths.

I can really respect this shift in direction. The change we all saw in Shadow's The Outsider seemed to come from a bitter resentment that all and sundry were making careers off his sound and the piece of shit he gave us was supposed to give a two fingered salute. The Third Hand however seems to come from a more genuine, honest place and is just the sound of an artist wanting to move on from where he started no matter how good a place that was.

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16th Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

His Name Is Alive

Detrola

4AD

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

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

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

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9th Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Arcade Fire

Neon Bible

Rough Trade

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deerhoof

Friend Opportunity

ATP

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

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

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

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

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

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2nd Feb 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Working For A Nuclear Free City

Rocket

It's no secret these days that the kids are wearing the rock trousers and they're in danger of showing up their older and wiser counterparts when it comes to sheer quantity of quality. The much favored Arctic Monkeys are still fresh from a prize winning debut and we already have enough new material from them to fill another. Likewise Working For A Nuclear Free City gave us their self titled debut late last year and here we are in January with a fantastic 4 track ep of songs not only new but that display a definite progression.

This ep shows a more mature sound and will go some way to dispel the Stone Roses comparison which was so tempting in their debut. Opening track "Rocket" shuffles its feet beautifully for the first half then explodes with a cacophony of just about every instrument available and the result is thrilling. The boys do it again with "Heaven Kissing Hill" which starts with an Arab Strap style monologue which then opens up into soaring instrumentals. This song ends with the same beard stroking spoken word but soon crumbles into laughter showing this bands refreshing ability to not take itself too seriously. Another great instrumental master-class follows then things are brought to a close with "Stone Cold". This revisits their earlier Roses sound but still works and judging by the first 3 tracks and this songs title this closer could be the bands way of laying to rest their previous influences and preparing the ground for new seeds. But we shall have to wait and see what's in store for this band but if this little taster is anything to go by it could come at any time and the chances of quality is pretty high.

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31st Jan 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

LCD Soundsystem

Sound Of Silver

These days fashion is a major player in making an album hit or miss - and James Murphy's LCD Soundsystem proved this in 2005 when their self titled debut took everyone by storm. It being the right time for their blend of self referencing, witty beat punk wasn't the only reason it was such a success. The album was full of well crafted, intelligent music which set the bar high for their second installment. "Sound Of Silver" sees them take stock of all that has gone before and move on confidently.

'Get Innocuous' creeps in with a whisper and the album is off to a perfect start. A 2 minute gently rolling beat intro is the frame work for Murphy's unassuming vocals. This could be vintage Talking Heads if it wasn't for the fiercely electronic structure. It tells us from the outset that some new strings have been added to this bow and to start the difficult second album off with a 7 minute piece of lushness like this sends out a message of confidence and progression. 'Time To Get Away' revisits old ground with wailing vocals stabbing at stuttering beats but the new ideas soon return. 'Someone Great' opens with an almost Top Gun theme morphing into Human League synths and the stand out track 'All My Friends' continues the 80's synth revival with a more piano led driving beat that never pauses and could go on forever. James Murphy's vocals are taken down a notch as in the opening track and the result of this change is stunning. Its relentlessness is awesome and even though the pace never changes you feel as if you're building up to something powerful. As in the best Joy Division moments it's this combination of a rolling bass structure, subtly building vocals and the guts to take a song past the 4 minute mark that make this album memorable.

This is a band settling into their sound and a displaying a progression that shows a lot of maturity. Their 2005 debut was perfect for that time both in content and style. Murphy's DFA label was huge, pioneering a very exciting electro/indie crossover and the sound that emerged from the labels history was fresh and a generation of super-cool indie kids were more than ready to accept Murphy's blend of synth beats and abrasive punk musings even though his lyrics often ridiculed the image conscious demographic that followed him. But since then the elctro-punk style has become somewhat tired so this album couldn't have been easy for the band. Talking Heads have been the principle influence for some of the best bands to emerge in the last 3 years and they certainly feature here. But this influence has brought a more earthy sound to LCD and that's where the maturity lies. Just as with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's Some Loud Thunder we see a band who after making people sit up and take notice of their first statement are now settling in for the long-haul and although they've eased off on the gas they're making music with more depth and durability.

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

Pop Levi

The Return To Form Black Magick Party

Counter

Ninja Tune have always been a label full of surprises. It has stretched and flexed to accomodate the ever increasing and varied tastes of its creators, but with Pop Levi they seem to have met their match. So they created a spin-off label just for him and give us the debut offering The Return To Form Black Magick Party. Only an artist of shameless arrogance could describe their debut as a return to form - and that's exactly what we have here. Born in London, Pop laid his early musical roots in Liverpool then moved to LA in pursuit of the 'magick' that he sees at the very heart of great music. Making up one third of free-thinking, post rock trio and fellow Ninja's Super Numeri, then playing bass for Ladytron Pop decided to go it alone and released his first EP "Blue Honey" on Counter Records in September last year. Then hot on its heals he gives us this. Mark Bolan is an instant point of recognition in Pop's sound but throughout this album we see glimpses of Prince, Dylan, Hendrix and even Jack White. But as with all quality music these influences, don't in any way confuse the sound that Pop has crafted for himself. That sound isn't easily explained as it keeps on changing. There's a very hand crafted feel to it with layers of acoustic and electric guitars punctuating washes of percussion, but this all often fed through some sort of machine and the Pop Levi sound is churned out the other side.

From the opening single, 'Sugar Assault Me Now,' it's quite clear that this is the doorway to a world far removed from our own. A world of astral energy where reality and disbelief are suspended and anything is possible. The first two tracks get things started at break-neck speed with a cacophony of stabbing guitars, fuzzy bass and more than enough hand claps. Things are taken down a notch with '(A Style Called) Cryin' Chic' with its folk blues meanderings over textured percussion. 'Skip Ghetto' shows Pop's sensitive side with a beautiful dreamy, acoustic little number only to be bitch slapped once again by the most Bolan of songs 'Dollar Bill Rock'.

The whole album follows this up and down formation, painting a very rich picture of this mans talents. It's contemplative and at the same time immensely uplifting. It's relaxing and floaty then foot tappingly addictive. It can appear to be conforming to every current fashion then rejecting it all in an instant. 'The Return To Form's' listening experience is just as up and down. On the first few plays it is thrilling and refreshing but I have to admit that the constant use of repetition in the lyrics does give it an air of emptiness. But hey it's pop music and not every moment has to move you to tears. There are plenty of moving moments here but most of them are on a level totally their own. The album makes you move and it makes you want to tell people about it. It oozes so much arrogance and confidence that it can only have been conceived by an artist with a very unique outlook on making music. It was a wise move for Ninja Tune to create an environment for this man to shine - as he has a lot to say and if this debut is anything to go by he has a myriad of ways to say it.

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29th Jan 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The King Khan & BBQ Show

What's for Dinner?

In The Red Records

Imagine if you will that it's Saturday night back in good old 1955 and you're on your way to the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance at your local high school. You've heard rumours of a scuffle going down tonight and lo and behold in the car park, amid a crowd of onlookers, lies the badly beaten body of the school geek George McFly. You walk on without pausing - because lets face it, he had it coming. Further on, you come across evidence of another more curious showdown. 5 well dressed guys lie sprawled out on the road and judging by their attire you realise that some heavy shit has just gone down. This is the remains of Marvin Berry and his Starlighters who were due to play at this dance. You ignore the frantic banging coming from the trunk of their low-rider as you race into the hall to find out who will be playing in their place. The first thing you notice is the stunned look on everyones faces as you enter the nautically decorated gymnasium - and as your eyes follow theirs to the source of this horror you know your night is over. The earlier trail of destruction could only have led to this. The stage had been overrun by Biff and his boys - the school bullies - and the sound they are making is indescribable. Popular songs from the hit parade being raped and pillaged in front of your eyes - and at top volume. Someone kicks a speaker over and a panic ensues. In the pandaemonium something hits you hard on the head and everything fades away as you fall to the ground unconscious.

The next thing you know you're in your bed at home and it's the present day. Sitting up in bed you realise that it was all a very bad dream and one you have no wish to repeat. The radio alarm clock clicks on and the sound hits you like a bolt of lightning. The music playing is loud, obnoxious, intrusive and fills your heart with dread. As the DJ announces the band as The King Kahn & BBQ Show you know that the ordeal you have just been through was no dream. That terrible night really happened, but the most terrifying thing of all was that it was still going on and this King Khan is the result of it. They had kept their sound of that night - 50's inspired pop butchery - but it had clearly gathered the grime of the last 50 years and now presented itself as a twisted mutation of Marvin Berry, the punk movement and the unquenchable hostility of those who crashed the Prom. As if that's not bad enough you find yourself quite liking it, it's catchy and as you lean over to turn it up you see that its 8.25 am. Damn! You're late for school!

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

Benjy Ferree

Leaving The Nest

Domino

As 2006 drew to a close the music scene typically turned in on itself and pumped out endless retrospective compilations to distract us while the new release section of the record stores were replaced with 'Best Of 2006' rundowns. I have never understood the January blues syndrome as this month welcomes the return to form of new music and late December's creative droubt comes to an end. After such thirsty times any relief is welcomed but it is all the more rare when it tastes as sweet as 'Leaving The Nest.' This is the debut album by Domino's new boy Benjy Ferree and it's sure to be a quiet classic.

Ferree's biography reads like any cv and has very little to do with music making. After pursuing a passion for cinema he moved to California and ended up being a nanny to various Hollywood big hitters including David Lynch. The acting thing never seemed to happen and after many sing-song sessions with the kids he realized he possessed a certain talent for song writing. Encouraged by Fugazi's Brendan Canty, Benjee set about compiling his debut work.

This potted history is important when you hear the album. It oozes class but also humility. The songs seem almost improvised and sound like work produced from the innocent mind of someone who never intended to be doing this. 'In The Countryside' starts things off on a refreshingly upbeat note as the lyric "So happy hands all in the air" is repeated with a jaunty swagger. You would be forgiven for assuming that such sugary sweet lyrics could only be the work of a musician hell bent on bogus, loved-up, pop stardom (two words: Magic Numbers,) but that's the great thing about this album. It is happy music, if I can be so sweeping, but not overwhelmingly so, and it's genuine. The compositions are simple and lo-fi and having established these loose perameters Ferree allows his sound to go where it pleases. 'The Desert' is classic Ben Folds with its light melody, 'Private Honeymoon' evokes the hollow, emptyness of Jeff Buckley and 'Leaving The Nest' recalls the mighty Jack White.

While these comparisons - and a good few others - will inevitably spring to mind, Ferree's sound remains his own. 'Leaving The Nest' is a culmination of natural talent, experience and a totally honest love of music. I predict great things for this guy and thank him sincerely for starting 2007 off on such a high.

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18th Jan 2007 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Best of 2006

BC

Top 5 Albums of 2006

1. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
2. Joanna Newsom - Ys
3. The Diableros - You Can't Break The Strings In Our Olympic Hearts
4. Loney Dear - Sologne
5. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Show Your Bones

Runners Up:
Sunset Rubdown - Shut Up I Am Dreaming
TV On The Radio - Return To Cookie Mountain
Howie Gelb - 'Sno Angel Like You
Grandaddy - Just Like The Fambly Cat
Clinic - Visitations


Top 5 Films

Little Miss Sunshine
The Departed
Capote
Casino Royale
Borat
Pan's Labyrinth


Biggest Disappointments (In order of disappointment)

DJ Shadow - The Outsider
Miami Vice
England Football
England Rugby
England Cricket
Thom Yorke - The Eraser


Top 5 Gigs

Radiohead - Hammersmith Apollo
Pearl Jam - Dublin
My Morning Jacket - Astoria
TV On The Radio - Koko
Morrissey - Alexandra Palace

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20th Dec 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

L. Pierre

Dip

In 2002 Arab Strap's Aidan Moffat made one of the most beautiful electronica albums I have ever had the joy of hearing. Hypnogogia laid down thick, all consuming washes of sublime classical samples while slowly fading in the most delicate of beats. The contrast of the warm, earthy strings and these cold, electronic constructions was just perfect and gave the listener exactly what his ear and heart wanted to hear. 2004's follow up Touchpool employed similar tactics, the strings became more earthy and the beats moved more towards the foreground. The beauty was still there but somehow failed to seduce the same way it's predecessor did. It was almost as if the perfection of Hypnogogia didn't need to be improved or even followed. I wanted it to exist alone and this follow up, great as it was, was treading on hallowed ground.

So next year we are to be treated to the next installment. L. Pierre is not so much of a side project now - following the surprise split of Arab Strap - and "Dip" sees Moffat move his sound into new territory. "My favorite L. Pierre tracks have always been the quiet ones so I wanted to pursue that mood and record something gentle and lovely," he says. "I also took a shine to field recording and bought myself a little Minidisc recorder, which I took on holiday to record some natural ambience." "Dip" is a stripped down revision of the previous sound. It's as if Moffat has looked long and hard at his work and meticulously identified which elements are working and which to discard. The looped, sampled percussion has all but disappeared and the musical orchestrations that remain have a more organic, live sound. Nature plays a big part in this album. The sound of crashing waves introduces and concludes the record suggesting the infinite cycle of life and greatly contrasting the clinical electronica that went before.

If Touchpool gave us too much of what we want, Dip does the opposite. The epic second track Weir's Way spends the first eight minutes on the most sublime orchestral wave then just as you think it's all coming to a close he hits us with the kind soft, synth beat that dazzled us before. The result is huge. He withholds this from us for so long that when he finally decides we are ready for it it's power is awesome. Except for the erratic drum beats of Hike this is all we get. The rest is majestic yet humble arrangements of cello, trumpets and keyboards and not a beat in sight.

Dip is the sound of Man becoming Nature, city becoming country, land becoming ocean. It is the unequivocal sound of an artist stripping away the real from the unreal, the true from the fake, and though I am left in a frustrating state of dissatisfaction something in me understands why this was necessary.

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15th Dec 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Big Sleep

Son Of The Tiger

French Kiss

The Big Sleep are a 3 piece band hailing from Brooklyn NY and they make a big rock noise. Sometimes it's psychedelic noise, sometimes straight up driving noise, but on the whole it means business. Son Of The Tiger opens with a musical eqivalent of a firm kick in the nuts. Brown Beauty is an instrumental sonic onslaught that holds you in its tight grasp as it steadily builds from dark and brooding to loud and heavy to louder and heavier. As you stand there, breathlessly exhausted, mouth open they hit you with a second wave with Murder. This is Electrelane after a music lesson with Wolfmother. Sonya Balchandani's vocals are sweet and subtle and are an effective contrast to the heavy riffs and crashing symbols around her.

Unfortunately, The Big Sleep are not able or willing to keep up this pace and the album takes a slight dive into no mans land as spacous, plodding stoner rock becomes the prefered method. This isn't necessarily a bad thing but after the power of the opening tracks the album seems to drift off into obscurity. Tracks like S.K.B and Menemy tend to start out fine but soon get lost in muddy cymbols and feedback and all to often lack the guitar structure of the earlier gems. However things pick up with Shima. It's jangly opening guitars are a welcome break from all the fuzzy, heavy riffs and the vocals are more audible becoming the focus that unites the song. It has more of an indie feel and builds more naturally to the familiar cymbal cacophony finale. This short break prepares you nicely for the moody title track that follows. It's a similar deal to earlier but seems to work better here and the screeching guitars and thudding rhythm really satisfy.

The Big Sleep have put together a very refreshing blend of dirty, shit kicking rock with dulcet female vocals and also seem to be in love with the entirely instrumental heavy jams of bands like The Longcut or Kinski. Put all this together and you get an album that isn't perfect but has guts and isn't afraid to grab you by the scruff of the neck and give you a darn good shaking.

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11th Dec 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Dan Sartain

Join Dan Sartain

One Little Indian

This is the second full length from the Alabama based musician and at 24 Sartain has managed to create a timeless piece of work that oozes bitterness but is delivered with an upbeat confidence. Recorded partly with a mariachi band and partly with The White Stripes producer Liam Watson, Join Dan Sartain is a lighthearted and refreshingly honest example of one man doing what the hell he feels like.

The great success of this record lies in it's subtle air of defiance. The 15 songs here represent a polite two fingers up to just about everyone in Sartain's life. As the last notes of the closing track Love Is Black ring off you can imagine Dan Sartain, with the arrogance of a young Johnny Cash, throwing his guitar at the mixing desk and storming out of the building mumbling "fucking record that, see if I care." The music isn't at all aggressive and it's hard to pin down just where this defiance comes from, but the effortlessness with which Sartain delivers his short little ditties is a good place to start. The furious pace of the opening track Drama Queens set's Sartain's agenda from the outset. At one and a half minutes it's a tightly packed bundle of forked tongue bitterness and it hooks you in good and proper. And talking of tongues, Sartain's seems firmly in his cheek as he skips through many different genres from the dirty grunge of I Wanted It So to the spanish love song Besame Mucho, originally recorded by Elvis. The warmth of the mariachi accompaniment of Flight Of The Finch is contrasted nicely by the fierce musings of two of the albums highlights, Gun Vs Knife and Hangers On.

It's great to hear an album that obviously comes from a rich tapestry of sources and though many of them will instantly spring to mind they will be wiped clean just as quickly and the lasting impression will be be a work very much its own. The arrogance of the music is reflected in the title of the album and if this is Dan's raleigh call to join him then I for one am in. I say that but at the same time get the impression that you can pledge allegiance as much as you like but the final decision lies with Dan himself and after hearing this record I am left with the immortal words of Eddie Murphy ringing in my ears, "This is my house, if you don't like it, get the fuck out."

I like it, I like it.

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30th Nov 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

120 Days

120 Days

Smalltown Supersound/Vice

120 Days is a fair assumption of what might have happened had Ian McCulloch or even Bono turned up for the post of Ian Curtis' replacement instead of Bernard Sumner. Fusing driving 80's beats, tight guitar arrangements and soaring vocals, Norway's 120 Days have crafted a tidal wave of sound with their debut LP. Their intention to 'go large' is evident from the 9 minute techno opener of Come Out. It's long, sprawling, cold, impenetrable, it's late night motor-way driving, it's Michael Mann and it sums up the grand vision of this record. Taking the best bits from the 80's indie scene and injecting a bit of Kraftwerk here and there this is a most satisfying debut and although they never reach the intensity or raw passion of bands like Joy Division or Neu! they still manage to create a grandeur that at times is quite thrilling.

They tend to stick to a tried and tested formula with each track creeping in on a swirling, astral synth wave making way for the hard, bass heavy drum-machine beat to kick in. This driving techno-like structure provides acres of space for the dark vocals as they slowly building us up to majestic heights. The stand out moment is Get Away, and with it we see a brief emergence of a more rock orientated structure with the sweeping synths making way for soaring guitars and Adne Meisfjord's vocals break out from their electro confines to embrace a more passionate level of intensity. This all culminates with the epic 11.5 minutes of closing track I've Lost My Vision. Often a closer of this length means an annoying hidden track that follows 6 minutes of silence but here it's beats all the way home. The vocals have the luxury of starting 2 minutes in and then slowly dropping away to let the music span out over this vast landscape only to return later to remind you just how awesome this song is. Then just as any self respecting track would be called in for their dinner, 120 Days plays on with a soaring 2 minute guitar finale.

The albums formula can seem repetitive at times but it sounds intentional and adds to the high speed-4 am-sprawling-Autobahn vibe. The synths echo the sweep of street lights as they pass over head every second for miles and miles and the beats become the evenly spaced motorway repair lines that bump the wheels over and over. It all becomes quite mesmerizing at times and this debut should be accompanied by a government warning not to listen to it while driving.

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29th Nov 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Ratatat

Classics

XL

You may be wondering how the hell this NY duo managed to make a greatest hits album after only one record. Answer: Classics is just a witty title for their follow up to the 2004 debut, and yet after the first listen you start to imagine that this title could quite easily come into it's own as each song is packed full of catchy hooks, beats and melodies that it can't be too long before the media pick up on this and adorn every advert with a Ratatat riff just as they did with artists like Royksopp.

Ratatat are Mike Stroud and Even "E*vax" Mast and they make eclectic instrumental music using predominantly guitars and electronic beats but back up these grand statements with sampled textures. Classics was born out of their extensive touring with bands like Interpol, Franz Ferdinand and the Killers and brought about the shift from the stripped down, looped sound of their debut to the fuller and grander feel of this record. "Audiences usually responded way more strongly to our louder, more aggressive songs," recalls Stroud. "So this time in the studio, we were more conscious of trying to please a crowd, without selling ourselves short. Also, playing so many gigs inspired us to make the new record sound much more live."

I would certainly agree with this statement on many levels. Classics does sound like an album made very much with an audience in mind. It steers away from any challenging curve balls and often plays safely into the listeners hands. But just as this is a criticism it is also the albums strength. It may occupy the safe middle ground but it does so with the pride and is of the highest quality. The reason many of the songs could make it onto adverts is because they are so good and give you what you want straight away.

The beat-heavy thud of 'Lex' will have your hands clapping and toes tapping in no time, while the sweet melodies of Tropicana reveal the boys admiration for bands like The Beatles and The Kinks. Much of the album was recorded at Bjork's upstate New York rural retreat and sounds like it provided the duo with much needed focus. It also explains the various animal noises that pepper these songs like the tigers on 'Swisha', the birds and bug noises on 'Tacobel Canon' and the impressive roar that provides the back bone to the stand out track 'Wildcat'. 'Loud Pipes' moves expertly from the rewind plodding beat to the tip toe tinkle with a gracefulness that makes this record easy to listen to but not easy listening.

It's hard to pin down what separates good instrumental music such as this with all the bland dross that serves to numb all creative impulses we may be lucky enough to receive and after listening to Classics I still don't know but there's enough honesty gone into this record to tell me that this is one of the good ones. The title may scream of misplaced arrogance but the music doesn't.

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24th Nov 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Chin Up Chin Up

This Harness Can't Ride Anything

This is the second album from Chicago's Chin Up Chin Up and sees them make slight yet important improvements on their previous LP. 2004's brilliantly titled We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers was a great piece of understated indie bliss and The Harness Can't Hide Anything is a similar story only singer Jeremy Bolen has brought his vocals more to the foreground changing his hushed tones to a more raw, unpolished delivery. As a result their sound has become a lot less polite.

From the outset you can feel the sound being more in-focus as the title track gets things off to a good pace with it's driving guitars and fast drumming. Although most of the songs tend to employ a repeated vocal and guitar rhythm as their home straight the sound never becomes repetitive.

I Need A Friend With A Boat is probably the best song on the album. It chimes in with Cure-like guitars and steadily builds to a fantastic crest of driving bass lines, piano and violin. Blankets Like Beavers follows similar suit until half way through spews out a glorious synth drive that takes the song off to new heights of rhyhthmical Spoon territory. Landlocked Lifeguards shows it's teeth a bit more finishing off with a din of screeching guitars and crashing cymbals which sets up the beautiful Stolen Mountains. This is the most delicate song on the album revisiting the hushed vocals of their previous work. It has a gentle, plodding rhythm as its structure but nicely turns into a drum/string medley with a bit of glockenspiel thrown in as well.

The Harness Can't Hide Anything is a similar story to White Whale's WW1 in that it is all really solid but as a result doesn't have any obvious highlights - but also has no low points either. On the final song Trophies For Hire Bolan sums up the album very well when he says, "These lakes are not oceans, these trees are not forests," but in his defense, sometimes the grand, dramatic landscapes which he hints at are not always what is needed and Chin Up Chin Up haven't aimed for that but have produced a quality piece of indie rock, what more could we want?

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22nd Nov 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Joanna Newsom

Ys

OK, you're going to have to bear with me on this review as I am breaking a strict rule of mine while writing it - and that rule is to never embark on a review until you know what the album is about. To mislead the hoards of readers we have on this site with knee-jerk opinions would be a dreadful misuse of responsibility. So from the outset I will be honest and admit that I haven't got a clue what the hell is going on on this second full length from the enigma that is Joanna Newsom. The reason I am not waiting until I do know more is that I get the impression that that day will never come, but as I have firmly made up my mind that this is a work of unrivaled genius I think that is justification enough to start the review.

Clocking in at just under an hour and boasting only 5 songs, the longest being almost 17 minutes, Ys certainly is a commitment. Starting this album is an experience akin to standing at the foot of a massive mountain. You know you want to climb it but the view from the bottom makes you question whether you have it in you and it's not until you've completed the first leg of the opening 12 minutes of Emily that you start to realise what an epic journey you have ahead of you but the view from there is so special that to reach the summit fills your heart with excitement and you push on. Those who do reach the top are rewarded in ways too profound to mention. Not only is there the sense of pride on having made it this far but the strange compulsion to go straight down to the bottom and do it all again is overwhelming.

So despite not knowing anything about the meaning of this work we have established that it's quite good and so can distract ourselves with some background facts concerning it's conception and production. It follows in the footsteps of 2004's critically acclaimed debut The Milk Eyed Mender and takes it's title from a mythical Breton city that was flooded as punishment for the decadence of its inhabitants. Newsom describes dreams she had after having written the record that the title had to have a Y and an S in it and should only be one syllable, after coming across a reference to this myth she knew that Ys, pronounced 'Ees', had to be her title. The album features a whole host of stars backstage. It is engineered by Steve Albini, produced by Jim O'Rourke and all but one song is given full orchestral arrangement by Van Dyke Parks, it also has the occasional backing vocal by boyfriend Bill 'Smog' Callahan. But it's Newsom herself that ultimately makes this record what it is. Her voice achieves a much more expansive range here going from booming depth to ear-piercing squeaks to a floating beauty that is simply heart melting. Her debut had her lumped in with the acid-folk of Devandra Banhart which in my opinion didn't do her any favors. This record will undoubtedly put an end to all that as its richness and awesome scope makes it near impossible to label. Comparisons to the work of Bjork and Kate Bush are valid only in terms of vision and shear single mindedness. As time moves on it will be impossible to guess when this album was made, it has a timeless quality and no references to modern times whatsoever. (I thought I found one on Emily when what I supposed was the lyric "The media writes just what causes the light and the media's how it's perceived," turned out to be "The meteorite's just what causes the light and the meteor's how its perceived.") You get immersed in the vivid descriptions of nature and stories that are told with such a beguiling use of language that you stop trying to follow their meaning and sit back content to let your heart dance in the warmth and ease with which these magical words tumble out. There is little point in going through the album song by song as this is a piece of work where each element has to be seen in the context of the whole. It's not just the length of the songs that makes them so daunting, they feature no standard chorus structure, there is virtually no let up in the flow of expertly pronounced poetry or free flowing harp and Park's orchestration sweeps you up and catapults you across his epic cinematic landscape and each song leaves you exhausted. But the profundity of this exhaustion comes from the honesty of the artist, none of this album seems contrived or pretentious. It's one of those rare moments of originality that is self made.

You can arm yourself with as many facts as you like about this album but none of them will help you on your journey, they will only weigh you down. Just as Luke bravely put away his mechanical means of navigation on his assault on The Death Star so must we turn off logical thought on our long trek towards the summit of Mount Newsom and let some other force guide us. To do this is the only way to reach the top and once there the view will be more spectacular than you could possibly imagine.

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20th Nov 2006 - 6 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

TV On The Radio

Koko, Camden

I find it near impossible to sum up the sound of TV On The Radio and when I try to think of an equivalent in order to aid my description I find myself stumped. But one thing I did discover in the majestical surroundings of Camden's Koko was that with two and a half albums strong this Brooklyn 5-piece know exactly who they are and what they are doing.

With it's numerous balconies dripping in ornate decoration and rising skyward to a huge revolving glitterball, Koko is a venue like no other and the view from the stage must either thrill or daunt any band. The addictive thing about TV On The Radio is their grasp of restraint. Their sound is so complex and threatens to explode but rarely does so I was interested to discover how this style would cope with a venue such as this. Dirty Whirl, a highlight from the new album Return To Cookie Mountain crept in humbly with hushed atmospheric sampling and front man Tunde Adebimpe's sweet whistling. This built up slowly and then the band unleashed their sound. It was the sound of twenty men and it was awesome. Adebimpe is the lynch pin to the dazzling show TV On The Radio offer. His theatrical dancing, thorough exploration of the space around him and inexhaustible passion and energy is electrifying and like nothing I have seen before. And his voice, well damn that boy can sing. Often constructing beautiful harmonies with guitarist and vocalist Kyp Malone, Adebimpe's voice more than filled the hall.

The stage seemed cluttered with the various machines that make this sound so unique. The standard drums, guitars and vocals are all fed through samplers, loops and distortions to produce a wall of sound that is oozing with texture. As expected Wolf Like Me was an instant highlight. As the only drum heavy, rock-out tune on the album this is as close as this band come to a standard song, so for it to emerge crisp and triumphant from the murky bog of noise was a delight to which the hungry crowd responded accordingly. Earlier songs like Young Liars were treated to the same extended format with the music slowly fading away to leave Adebimpe's exposed vocals to bring it to a close.

Not all the songs worked with the live treatment and this is due to the intricate subtleties that are so important to their sound not to mention the obvious sound problems experienced by Kyp Malone. I Was A Lover opens the new album with such hollow beauty, but that was lost here. The dense texture that is crafted around this song simply swallowed up the vocals reducing them to just another element in this texture. But this was a minor complaint and was soon forgotten as a free standing bass drum was brought on to the stage to herald the start of Let The Devil In. This was pounded on by at least two other band members as the crowd were encouraged to sing along. Adebimpe opened the song with dulcet vocals only to produce a mega-phone which he proceeded to shriek into as more and more previously unnoticed musicians joined the stage beating a myriad of cymbals, drums, tamborines, you name it. The result was a near tribal stampede of sound that refused to stop. It built and built to epic proportions and launched this gig into memorable territory.

After the dazzling My Morning Jacket show in September I got to thinking, "What separates the good gigs from the great gigs?" I have seen many a great band showcase their back catalogue with expert precision but have often been left feeling slightly flat. These gigs were as good as their albums, but the great gigs go further and make you feel like you are witnessing something specific to this moment, something spontaneously crafted and bigger than the music. This is what was happening at Koko that night, a live event that would be lost in any other format. All too often I leave a very enjoyable gig but mentally tick that band as 'done', the opposite was the case here and as I emerged from my grand surroundings into a rainy night I hoped this would not be the last would see of TV On The Radio.

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13th Nov 2006 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Borat!: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

(dir. Larry Charles)

20th Century Fox

Anyone familiar with Borat would no doubt agree that he is the funniest and most outregeous of Sacha Baron Cohen's 3 characters, and during his sections in the Ali G In Da USA show we were appalled and dazzled by his shameless interviews - and much like Ali G his ability to extract the truth from narrow minded middle America. This film is all that, plus a whole lot more. You get the normal encounters with people of such jaw dropping ignorance, culminating in a stadium full of Rodeo fans who cheer passionately when Borat greets them on the mic with words to the effect of "May your president drain the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq." You get livid feminists, furious commuters, angry aristocrats, man-eating Jews and Pamela Anderson.

Although his TV show was so successful, things like that often fail to translate well onto the big screen - and when stretched to 90 minutes they can become tiresome. But this got it right. The plot was good enough to sustain your attention and formed a believable platform for his comedy. It was a non-stop romp across the U.S and A and the comedy was pushed to it's absolute limit. There were moments of such shock and awe that provided images that will be burned on to my memory for ever. He got himself into situations from which most people would be hard pushed to walk away with their lives, but his masterfully acted naive charm got him through every time. The comedy was relentless and there were countless moments where the audience laughed until they had nothing left. Not all the jokes were necessary though and his constant attack on the Jewish community became too uncomfortable to snigger at towards the end - but it was the visual gags that worked so well, like the shocked faces of New Yorkers as Borat calmly masturbated on the street to a window full of lingerie-clad mannequins, or washed his underpants in Central Park, or opened a suitcase full of chickens on the subway.

It's all pretty stupid stuff and I did feel slightly embarrassed asking for two tickets to Borat when there were such heavyweights to be seen like The Departed or Romanzo Criminale, but who cares - I haven't laughed that much in years and continue to smirk to myself when images of naked male wrestling enter my mind. Pure genius. High Five.

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7th Nov 2006 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Working For A Nuclear Free City

Working For A Nuclear Free City

Melodic

This is a promising debut from the Manchester quartet and it benefits greatly from its release on the always-worth-a-listen Melodic record label. Known better for complex glitch-pop electronica like that of Minotaur Shock or Lucky Pierre, Melodic have tirelessly strived to give us innovative and engaging music. Their artists have always been eclectic and so it's no surprise that a guitar band such as Working For A Nuclear Free City should attract their attention. The spirit of The Stone Roses lives on in these guys, but their use of electronics sets them apart from the 90's Manchester scene fusing The Longcut, Primal Scream and Ian Brown with a sound all their own.

The scene is set beautifully with the opening celestial grandeur of 'The 224th Day', which builds you up gloriously only to drop you suddenly into the dirty beats of 'Troubled Son'. The earth shaking bassline mixes ominously with the murky vocals that make this record so interesting. It is described as techno music played on guitars and from this opening display that description seems pretty apt. 'Dead Fingers Talking' has enough arrogant swagger to have been penned by Ian Brown himself and firmly reawakens rocks danceable side.

The band started off as an instrumental trio and only recruited vocalist Ed Hulme 2 days before their first live gig. This is the key to the success of their music. They have created a wonderfully sophisticated blend of dark, beat driven rock, washed out indie bliss and programmed electronic instrumentals that really aim for the stars. It's a very well paced album and the use of minimal, orchestral down time brings added weight to the moments of might. Once you have them pegged as Manchester's new Roses as in the astral psychedelia of 'Over', they blast you with sonic noise until you retract that comparison. 'Innocence' is 'Fools Gold' meets David Axelrod and breaks into the most shamelessly funky bass twang heard since Starsky and Hutch, while 'Forever' chugs along effortlessly on a bass heavy beat that gradually fades into the cinematic soundscape of the closing track 'The Tree'.

Having started Stone Roses and finished Philip Glass you really question what the hell you just listened to. This band set up comparisons only to dash them with a sound so refreshingly open minded that it's almost impossible to predict the way forward for them. Describing their mission with this debut they claim "We want to create an alternative to the retrospective trend in music, to get the focus back on something innovative." So as Kasabian are busy claiming rights to the musical throne they'd do well to keep an eye on the rear view mirror for the challenger speeding up behind them, more than capable of steeling their self appointed and somewhat imaginary crown.

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31st Oct 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Akron/Family

Meek Warrior

Young God Records

This is the third album from the enigma that is Akron/Family and as always it is a weird and often wonderful journey. This New York based quartet do everything they can to confuse you, alienate you, dazzle you and ultimately impress you with their brand of freak folk, post-rock and whatever other genre they decide to drop during this 35 minute slice of madness.

I say madness but for their standards this is quite normal. It's basically a regular alt folk, semi religious record in the style of Danielson or Davandra Banhart that's framed by two crazy, freak out monster jams. To open an album with a song like 'Blessing Force' lets the listener know early that to sit comfortably would be a mistake. Tribal drums, crashing cymbals and feedback start things off, before this turns into group chanting which heralds what we all think is the start of this song, but no. Another whiplash change of direction and the song careers off in another direction, that of head-fuck, twisted guitar and yet more sprawling drum landscapes. Then 3 minutes later we get the free-form jazz section and if you look ahead on your iTunes time bar you realise with horror that you have 2 more minutes of this ear-piercing noise to go. Just as the Rowntrees Fruit Pastel adverts dare you to eat one with out chewing, Akron/Family dare you not to skip this bit. I took up this dare once and finished the track but never again. As ambitious as 'Blessing Force' is, it does sound a bit like a nine minute show-reel and as the beautiful lo-fi folk of 'Gone Beyond' gently follows you can't help thinking that what just went before was nothing but a glitch in the system and somehow a particularly experimental Liars track found its way on to the start of this album.

So from here on in we get the delicate country ditties of the title track, the sparse soundscapes of 'No Space In This Realm' and the fragile finger picking of 'Lightning Bolt Of Compassion'. Then comes the other freak-out monster jam. 'The Rider (Dolphin Song)' is a measly seven minutes though and easier to stomach than its predecessor. It's a dark, brooding scuzz-bucket of noise that explodes erratically into formless improv. It's the evil cousin of Radiohead's 'National Anthem' and finishes you off with a deafening squall that must utilise every instrument in the studio. But the Family don't leave your bruised and pummeled corpse there. No, they pick you up, dust you down and take you to Sunday School with the closing track 'Love And Space'. Here, each band member gets a turn in chanting the "Lord Open My Heart.." mantra and all the craziness from the past 35 minutes is nicely forgotten.

This is another brave example of Akron/Family's talents. By painstakingly constructing their beautiful folk landscapes, only to destroy them in a reckless act of sabotage, they challenge the listener to question what they're listening to. While this is the albums strength it is also its failing. The experimental moments are too few and far between and instead of the annoying wrecking balls they try to be, when put amongst the delicate psych-folk of the other tracks they become the best songs on the album and are so powerful that the others appear out of place. But there is more than enough on Meek Warrior to confirm that Akron/Family are one of those important bands that refuse to be classified and will go on challenging you and daring you whether you like it or not.

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31st Oct 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Squarepusher

Hello Everything

Listening to Hello Everything is like eating a meal where the most delightful flavours dazzle and seduce your taste buds with every chew. But purely on the restaurants reputation alone you harbor a deep fear that at any moment you will eat something that will blow your head off. Perversely though, It's this fear that makes the whole experience so memorable and actually the fear is in vain as for the most part Squarepusher keeps his trademark noise explosions to a minimum on this, his tenth album.

Hellow Meow's busy beats and clicks start things off at an erratic yet gentle pace, they mean no harm and are soon joined by the crazy bass skills that make the work of the multi instrumental Tom Jenkinson so unique and so interesting. Feeling more affinity with experimental jazz than the electronic scene, Jenkinson has been pushing the boundaries of both since his 1996 debut Feed Me Weird Things. His use of live instruments, sampled noise and the most pent up beat-interplay make this one man band a force to be reckoned with. His work is as much Charlie Parker as it is Aphex Twin.

Hello Everything finds him in more comfortable shoes. A track like Theme From Sprite would not be too out of place on a particularly experimental, late night hour of Jazz FM and Circlewave 2 is a truly sublime piece of music with its delicate composition of tinkering cymbals and rising synths. There are glimpses of early Squarepusher muscle on the standout track Planetarium. The classic hollow breakbeats are given depth by the deep, brooding underlying bass line while the slightly Jean Michel Jarre organ builds things to a majestic grandeur.

Rotate Electrolyte has a beautifully nostalgic feel to it. It takes me back to the mid-90's when Drum & Bass meant something to me, days when artists like Photek and T Power constructed the most amazing journeys that were often dark yet rose to such uplifting heights. This feeling is continued in Welcome To Europe and show Jenkinson's focus on melody on this album. The breakbeats are regulated and uniform and provide a stable platform for the ever rising Dr Who-like synth orchestrations. Of course songs like these lull us in to a dream like state of bliss and then with Plotinus and The Modern Bass Guitar we are reminded that we're listening to a Squarepusher album. The teeth come out with these two tracks with the melody being all but obliterated by the machine gun breaks, bleeps, thumps, "sounds a bit like Goldie" clicks, stabs, twists, squeals and whatever else Jenkinson can get his hands on.

But to get through a Squarepusher record with only two kicks in the head isn't bad going and not at all disappointing. The album's title suggests that Jenkinson sees this album as a bit of a retrospective as it does in a way look back and compile much of the ground breaking work he has done in the past. It doesn't however sound like a cop-out move of an artist out of ideas, far from it. Hello Everything will undoubtedly recruit more fans to the Squarepusher rollercoaster but retains all of his visionary integrity to keep on board his old ones. It's a highly intelligent and honest piece of work by an artist quite obviously in love with making music.

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26th Oct 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Ladyfinger (NE)

Heavy Hands

If the title of this Omaha based four piece suggests slender beauty then think again. The album title Heavy Hands gives more of a clue to what these boys are up to. The general MO here is to fuck you in the ears and these four horsemen of the rock apocalypse do a pretty thorough job.

Following in the dark, well trodden footsteps of bands like Motorhead Heavy Hands never lets up and is not too dissimilar to being punched in the head for just over half an hour. This is not a complaint though, they deal a quality blow to the head. They are on tour with The Bronx this month and should warm the crowd up pretty well with their rock broth of pounding drums, nose bleed riffs and primal vocals. If you've got the balls for it but wouldn't mind those balls getting a damn good bruising then let Ladyfinger lay on their Heavy Hands.

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23rd Oct 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Raconteurs

Brixton Academy, London

I could've sworn The Raconteurs have only made one album. After last nights show I felt I should go home and Google these guys to see if Broken Boy Soldiers wasn't their fifth due to the rapturous reception they got from the adoring Brixton crowd. And no one went home disappointed. Although opening with Intimate Secretary, the albums weakest track, Brendan Benson and Jack White's band put on one hell of a show making a sound so loud that if it wasn't for White's shriek the vocals would have been all but lost.

As on the album Benson is a solid performer but tends to assume the role of the straight guy when put next to the charisma and on/off mic antics of White. Whether he's being a Raconteur or a White Stripe, Jack White is electrifying to watch. Holding the guitar like it's an extension of his arm and with frequent visits to the front of the stage, guitar held aloft this concert was on the verge of becoming the Jack White show.

With only 10 songs to their name and each one getting aired, the order of the night was guitars - with each song being extended in length, volume and intensity. Forthcoming single Broken Boy Soldiers was, as anticipated, the standout moment - with White retreating to the back of the stage to shout the repeated line "The boy never gets older" into a voice distorting mic but the funky-as-hell Level and the gut punching, sonic boom of Store Bought Bones came in a close second. They even threw in a few covers - Gram Parsons and a mammoth rock opera loosely based around Nancy Sinatra's Bang Bang.

The crowd favorite Steady, As She Goes came soon after the encore and was so huge I was sure this would be the finale. But Blue Veins was to close this rock extravaganza and although I questioned this rather downbeat choice, it was given the same amped up treatment as the rest with White and Benson playing the blues something special. This was the final moment for Jack to show his masterful grasp of his instrument as his guitar gently wept and all over Brixton dogs pricked up their ears and cocked their heads.

I fear this performance may have ruined the album for a lot of people as the beefed up power of the live songs leaves the originals sounding positively anorexic. The only complaint would be the 'one album' thing and the drowned-in-sound quality you sometimes get at The Academy but apart from that this was an electrifying show of two musicians in complete control of their instruments and really loving their side project. You would have been forgiven for thinking that this was Led Zeppelin's farewell tour as the band bowed, arm in arm, at the front of the stage to a deafening applause that continued long after they had departed.

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21st Oct 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Brakes

The Luminaire, London

Brighton's Brakes dazzled a Myspace friendly crowd at Kilburn's The Luminaire last night with their country-punk antics. It was a night of great new music with Blood Red Shoes providing a truly memorable performance before hand, but when Brakes opened with the 30 second punch in the face of Hi How Are You you knew this was a band with more experience and confidence than anything that had gone before. Their timing was tight, their guitars loud and the shaved head of front-man Eamon Hamilton repeatedly displayed a near to bursting vein. Although old favorites like Heard About Your Band and All Night Disco Party from Give Blood sounded fantastic and caused frenzied cheers from the crowd, the songs from the new album Beatific Visions seemed fuller and more focused in comparison.

Album openers Hold Me In The River and Margherita had might and weight that made the blink-and-you'll-miss-them punk ditties seem like musings of a band long gone, but the soon-to-be live favorite was the vein throbbing, spit propelling onslaught of Porcupine or Pineapple?. Introduced as one of the songs they recorded on a recent trip to Nashville the line "Who won the war, what the fuck is it for?" was delivered with such jaw dropping venom that you wonder how these boys were received in those hallowed lands.

All in all Brakes displayed an energy and urgency that was great to behold in such an intimate venue and with a band full of look a-likes ranging from Goldie on vocals, an allergic Pete Doherty on guitar, Will Ferrell on bass and Chris Martin on drums Brakes put on one hell of a show that will keep your ears ringing and bleeding for some time to come.

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17th Oct 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Early Years

The Early Years

Finally a band who aren't afraid to make long songs. All too often these days a song will suggest that it has ended too soon and could really do with a good 5 minutes more in the oven. This debut album from London's The Early Years seems to go some way to satisfy me in the length department and if you talk to all my friends they'll tell you that's important.

I say 'some way' because these songs arent all long, none of them are less than 4 minutes, there's a 6.3 and an 8.4, but the thing to mention here is that they all feel long. Some of the greatest songs ever made in my opinion (for 'opinion read 'fact') have the same formula. They are epic, they change pace and they never end where they started. Stairway To Heaven, Paranoid Android, Bohemian Rhapsody, I Am The Resurrection, Free Bird to name but a few all follow this structure and although there is nothing on The Early Years that comes close to these they certainly have the right idea.

Their songs are often the musical equivalent of the average life-cycle of a person. Take High Times And Low Lives for example. It starts with an almost embryonic, blissed out ambient whisper, takes its time to build to maturity to peak at mid point on a crashing cymbal and guitar majesty. It then calms down for a while then starts to gallop again towards the end and quickly gains a glorious running pace. As with a lot of people, many of the songs threaten to end but seem to hang on to life until they feel it's time to go, and only then do they gracefully fade away to silence. The reason for this is obviously their eclectic source of influences. The band cite bands such as Spiritualised, Tortoise, Elevator's, The Velvet Underground and Neu! as source points and that more than explains their ability to handle ambient noise, motorik beats, drones, feedback and melody all in the same song.

The Early Years are a 3 piece which is hard to believe once you have heard their sound. They create the grandeur of at least 5 musicians. They can do heart wrenching ballads, epic swells and they can certainly rock when they want to. They seem to have everything and although there are a few less than exceptional moments this debut suggest greatness.

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12th Oct 2006 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

The Rapture

Pieces Of The People We Love

I was very underwhelmed with 2003's Echoes and so really wasn't expecting to feel anything but a confounded sense of self-righteousness about this record. The Rapture were the embodiment of all the pretension of the post-punk revival, creating edgy, dance rock about nothing at all and insisting on it all being told with self-consciously grating vocals. However with Pieces Of The People We Love we see that in 3 years The Rapture seem to have calmed down and focused on the music, easing off on the cliches that dogged their earlier work. Here we see a more mature sound and a far more coherent album. Luke Jenner's vocals are restrained compared to Echoes and except for the first track they resist the need to quickly drop into the catchy repeated chorus that they did so often before.

The title track is the first hint that this band has moved on and this is largely down to the fact that the mighty Danger Mouse produced it. This is the first of two tracks produced by him and it shows a layered depth of sound that doesn't go for the quick sell. This makes Get Myself Into It all the more appealing as it does go for that instant fix and it really works. Its the first single off the album and out of context it sounds dull and predictable but in the right sequence it's Police-inspired harmonies and driving chorus are just what you need.

First Gear is for me the stand out track on this record building on a steady thudding beat, layered instruments and repeated backing vocals and weighing in at over 6 minutes but hinting that it could be longer. On first glance at the track listing Whoo! Alright Yeah...Uh Huh seemed to sum up this band as the aesthetically pleasing but ultimately meaningless, self-referential trash I had come to expect. But as it turns out it's a very amusing attack on their fans that stand in the crowd, arms folded and motionless. I thought this was an interesting observation as it's as if the fans were falling for the same 'too cool for school' crap that the band was. Maybe after hearing this album they might loosen up and enjoy themselves. The band obviously have.

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12th Oct 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Nouvelle Vague

Bande A Part

In 2004 Nouvelle Vague put out their self titled debut album of catchy cover versions of 80's indie classics. Their sweet bossa nova lounge style was a joy to listen to and they really brought something different to these well known songs. However I quickly tired of the formula and was quite surprised to see their follow up album follow exactly the same pattern.

"Bande A Part" covers a similar era and the only difference here is the introduction of a second singer. On its release I had very little interest in it as it looked like more of the same, but after hearing the opening version of Echo & The Bunnymen's Killing Moon I was snared in its delightful trap. With The Buzzcocks' Ever Fallen In Love the grip tightened and I couldn't believe I was falling for the same trick a second time. Thankfully I managed to wriggle loose of its clutches and soon realised that this album was going nowhere. The novelty wears off soon after the first 3 tracks, as the formula sets in once more. I remember when I used to eat in McDonalds as a kid and they would play their own musak versions of popular songs. My mind would automatically search through it's database to tag the tune they were playing and once located the attention would come to an abrupt halt. This is the same here, after the song has been identified it holds no more intrigue. I think I would pay more attention to this band if they stopped the cover version gimmick and wrote some of their own material. They have such a beautiful style of easy listening, washed out and sun drenched bliss that at first went so well with their choice of covers but now is lost. If they dropped the covers their music would become the focus. Until then it fades to the background and becomes little more than lift music.

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12th Oct 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Lupe Fiasco

Food & Liquor

If Jay-Z was about 10 years younger and hadn't been paid so much or jaded by police harrasment he would probably sound a bit like this. "Food & Liquor" is Chicago based rapper Lupe Fiasco's long awaited debut album. Long awaited due to it's hefty list of collaborators and a troubled record deal that pushed back its release until now. Lupe is only 25 and through most of this album that's hard to believe. Intricate and profound lyrics are woven together so tightly and are complimented by intelligent beats. My enjoyment of Food & Liquor is similar to that of Murs and his 2003 debut for Def Jux, "The End Of The Beginning". Both rappers are young enough to give us a new insight into hip hop but intelligent enough to make it interesting. The times when Lupe's age does show are to his credit. We get so much thug rap these days and whether it's real or not it gets so boring after a while so its very refreshing to hear a rap about skateboarding as on "Kick, Push" and then carried on to the fantastic "Kick, Push II" towards the end of the album. "I Gotcha" is a jazzy little number with a heavy piano based beat while on "The Instrumental" and "He Say She Say" he proves he can deal with more serious issues.

But It's not all skateboarding and fatherless childhoods though, the Jill Scott collaboration "Daydreamin'" has a reassuring amount of references to jacuzzis full of big tittied women but that's not surprising seeing as production duties on much of this album are shared but the likes of The Neptunes and Kanye West to name but a few. Much of the production sounds like a hip hop album from the early nineties with lots of synths and piano but it comes across as intentional and really works. The guest list is impressive yet not allowed to outshine the main star and for a 25 year old and a debut album he certainly has a lot of people to thank judging by "Outro", the 12 minute long 'peace out' dedication song often found closing a hip hop album.

"Food & Liquor" isn't smashing any boundaries or redefining the genre but it's quality from start to finish and due to the recent DJ Shadow memo that he's taking a break from good hip hop Lupe Fiasco is a pleasure to behold. He seems to have come to hip hop from a slightly different angle and provides us with a freshness and honesty that is so welcome after The Outsider's cop out cliches.

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11th Oct 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Clinic

Visitations

This is the fourth album from the eclectic Liverpool four piece and the best way to describe it is to let the man who is responsible for its greatness sum it up. " The rule is: surprise yourself," says singer Ade Blackburn. "We went for something direct and primitive – surreal ballads next to subhuman riffs." Visitations is a grimy, tense and moody affair that is utterly compelling from start to finish and it's largely down to the pent up ferocity of their front man. If you got into a fight with Clinic you'd be wise to keep your eye on Ade Blackburn. He'd be seething silently in the background but would be the one most likely to do serious damage. His buddies with the instruments do a lot of shouting but he manages to keep his cool for just over 32 minutes and it's gripping to witness. For the most part the guitars are fierce but fuzzy and often threaten to drown the almost indecipherable vocals. Blackburn spits his lyrics through gritted teeth and that's where the power lies. He breeds a tension and urgency from this delivery that keeps you on your toes and locks in your attention like a rabbit in the headlights.

From the outset Visitations lets you know that this ain't gonna be pretty and some people may get hurt. The fierce guitars and heavy drums of Family herald the start of a rough but rewarding road ahead while Tusk does its best to pulverise your eardrums. Although these are typical of Clinic's ability to produce hard hitting, gritty rock gems the most arresting moments come in their down time. Animal/Human is a beautiful tripped out Velvet Underground moment while Paradise recalls the sparse, hollow melodies of Cowboy Junkie's cover of Sweet Jane. But as fine as these moments are the best of all comes in the form of Harvest (Within You). This is to be the first single off Visitations and it's a wise choice. It's a dirty little bitch of a song and I'll be damned if it isn't the most toe tapping, funky number I've heard in ages. It builds up in subtle layers of instruments and just as you feel you could nod to this rhythm all day it rises gracefully to almost Doors like majesty.

Clinic manage to change tempo with effortless confidence but never take a drop in intensity. Their music stares you in the face and challenges you to look away. Blackburn ends proceedings with the title track that is based around the repeated line "Don't get close" and although Clinic do their best to keep you at arms length I strongly urge you to defy Ade's words and get as close as you can to Visitations. It won't be a comfy snuggle by the fire but it's guaranteed to be a friend for life.

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10th Oct 2006 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Four Tet

Remixes

The release of a new remix album hardly sends me running to the shops these days but when it has Kieran Hebdan aka Four Tet's name anywhere near it I tend to take more notice. Although not everything Four Tet has given us recently has quite matched the master works of his earlier albums he is still pretty consistent and always strives for integrity and quality. His recent collaboration with Jazz maestro Steve Reid shows the breadth of this man's musical appreciation and this collection of remixes hints at that breadth too. The first disc showcases Hebdan's reworking of artists like Aphex Twin, Bloc Party and Radiohead, while the second is the reverse and has remixes of Four Tet's back catalogue from the likes of Caribou, Battles and Boom Bip.

The first installment is the one that demands the most attention. Hebdan's remixes are far superior to anything that is made of his work and it really shows what he brings to this art form that along with the B- Side has been severely damaged by the MP3 culture. The difference between Four Tet's remixes and a lot of his competitors is that on hearing the rework you don't wish you were listening to the original. The best examples here are his take on Radiohead's Scatterbrain and Bonobo's Pick Up and each one really shows how his vision allows for the best parts of the original to remain while totally making the song his own. Two of the longest pieces here are his beautiful alteration of Rothko's Roads Become Rivers and the epic 11 minute version of Beth Orton's Carmella ...and they show that quantity does mean quality. He strips away the meat on Bloc Party's So Here We Are and provides a solid-as-hell backbone beat for Madvillian's Money Folder.

The second disc contains much of the failings of many remix albums and that is it's flow. Though many of the remixes are good it stops and starts and unlike the first disc does make me want to listen to a Four Tet album. He has such a distinctive style and tweaks his victims with a ramshackle of sampled noises, off kilter drum beats and trumpet squeaks and a grouping of his remixes really flows like one of his own albums.

Judging from his web site there is a mouth-watering array of artists about to get the Four Tet treatment like Archie Bronson Outfit and The Longcut. This heralds a bright future for the remix and many compilations of this quality to come.

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10th Oct 2006 - 5 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Jason Molina

Let Me Go, Let Me Go, Let Me Go

Secretly Canadian

Since 1996 Jason Molina has been delivering his sparse tales of woe in various forms from Songs: Ohia to Magnolia Electric Co. he has done collaboration albums with artists such as Alistair Roberts and My Morning Jacket and more recently has begun trading under his own name. Let Me Go, Let Me Go, Let Me Go is his second full length and his best yet.

Molina opens his album with a song entitled It's Easier Now. This sends a shudder down my spine at the thought of what it was like, as Let Me Go is as bleak as it gets. But if anyone can do bleak it's Molina. The whole album sounds like a last gasp cry for release as expressed in the title through to the final note of this trickling 34-minute slope into blackness. We get bombarded with albums with the same agenda as this all the time, but most of them are a struggle to get through and the only thing that moves quickly is your emotional shift from interest to boredom. This is far from the case here. Molina has an absolutely captivating voice and coupled with the impeccable production his words chime with crystal clarity that keeps you listening and hanging on his every devastating word. Though he rarely rises above a whimper his voice has a dormant strength that threatens to roar.

All of this, and his ability to write lyrics that break your heart faster than a Live Aid appeal interlude, make this a powerfully empty experience. In Alone With The Owl, he asks "while I lived was I a stray black dog, while I lived was I anything at all?" then describes the stagnancy of his life as he "stood beside the ocean not a single wave." But it's on Get Out, Get Out that he really shows his poetic skill with the achingly sad line "I live low enough that the moon wouldn't waste its light on me, what's left in this life that would do the same for me?"

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7th Oct 2006 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

James Yorkston

Year Of The Leopard

2006 is shaping up to be another fine year for music with releases from old veterans like Yo La Tengo and Grandaddy more than fulfilling expectations. But it definitely lacks a few things that we all need. After their stunning tour and appetising glimpses of new songs we need another Radiohead album and it's been so long since A Ghost Is Born that I think everyone would agree that we certainly need a new Wilco album but as Mr Yorkson shuffles his feet up to the plate to make his mark on this year it soon becomes clear that we don't need Year Of The Leopard. I don't come to this opinion lightly as I am a huge fan of Yorkston's honest and strangely uplifting style of folk but this new offering seems to lack all those attributes and is dull to say the least. A great deal of (dish) water has trickled under the bridge in the world of nu-folk since Yorkston's beautiful second album Just Beyond The River, so to emerge after 2 years with this is just not good enough.

We were dazzled by his presence at the Homefires festival and it was clear that he was a trailblazer for the impressively low key yet fiercely progressive Fence Collective, but since then his subordinates have lapped him in creativity and even though he pumps out new music all the time I could certainly handle another King Creosote album.

Yorkston has eased off on the lush orchestration that layered his previous albums opting instead for Homefires organiser Adem's stripped down style of drowsy folk and that's where the problem lies. Where Adem's voice has the intimate closeness that commands your attention, Yorkston just seems too tired or bored to command anything and before all you blinkered fans out there argue that Yorkston's understated and low-key style is the what makes his music work I would have to refer you to the latest Jason Molina offering or fellow Domino artist Bonnie "Prince" Billy as examples of just how captivating this style of music can be.

Each song follows the same structure with delicate finger picking ushering in hushed, whispering vocals until a feint swell of violins brings the whole thing to an easy close only to begin again and again. The Athletes seem to have all but disappeared and the only song that strives to break from this structure is the aptly titled Woozy With Cider, where Yorkston uses ill considered spoken word to tell his crazy tales of drunken debauchery.

Year Of The Leopard just proves that in a highly competitive market, feet shuffling simply won't do and illustrates perfectly the phrase 'If you snooze, you lose.'

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7th Oct 2006 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Tokyo Police Club

A Lesson In Crime EP

When The Strokes unleashed their debut album on the world they set in motion a style that sent ripples through the then stagnant pond of the indie/rock world ...and until their recent record it looked like they themselves couldn't keep up with the legacy they so forcefully laid down. Even though their sound borrowed much from tried and tested sources, The Strokes brought with them a new freshness and a raw and immediate might that has given birth to many a new band. This Toronto quartet, Tokyo Police Club, are one of those following in these footsteps and although this is very obvious from listening to their debut EP it still makes for an entertaining 16 minutes.

Despite opening the record with the words "Operator, get me the president of the world, this is an emergency," A Lesson In Crime is a fine introduction to this fledgling band of hopefuls. Cheer It On sets the pace early with its riff heavy structure. The best moments however come when the band momentarily steer away from Strokes territory as in La Ferrassie and Citizens Of Tomorrow where the guitars step back and give the less raspy side of lead singer Dave Monk's voice space to shine. Here we see a hidden sensitivity in this voice that brings to mind Grandaddy, enhanced by the swathes of soft synthesiser and frequent references to robots.

There is a certain naivety about Tokyo Police Club - both in their Strokes-ish sound and some of the lyrics but A Lesson In Crime has glimmers of real hope and offers more than enough clues that this is a band that, given the space of a full length album, could produce something great.

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27th Sep 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

White Whale

WW1

Like the great ocean herself White Whale have managed to create an album of immeasurable depth that can at times rise to majestic swells of dazzling proportions, drowning you in its drama and carrying you off to far flung places but it can also be a bit wet. I use the ocean as metaphor here as this is the principle theme that punctuates most of WW1. Tales of sea faring voyages, grand ships and intrepid admirals are delivered in style by the breathy vocals of front man Matt Suggs. Drawing comparisons to label mates Spoon, Suggs writes music that is as grand as it is delicate and tells his tales with expertly crafted and slightly surreal lyrical compositions.

Nine Good Fingers opens with the line "Wont you lay your nine good fingers on me but keep that long one wrapped in gauze," and features lots of lyrics about finger finding melodies and toes tapping in time. And tapping is exactly what your toes will do through most of this album especially on O'William, O'Sarah where the anthemic chorus gives way to a long rhythmical interlude where a fantastically raw drumbeat creeps in as if being played in their garage and takes the song past the 7 minute mark. This leads on nicely to the album highlight of The Admiral, a sea faring story from days of old, told with epic grandeur and at times ferocious passion. It's an impeccably crafted gem that is unfortunately followed by the albums lowest point. I Love Lovely Chinese Gal is an ill considered low-fi ditty about East and West and is full of uncharacteristically obvious lyrics. But it's not worth dwelling on as normal proceedings are resumed straight away as the record finds its wave again and sails off into the glorious sunset with many a high point including We're Just Temporary Ma'am and Forgive The Forgiven.

WW1 is a wonderfully rich album combining live instruments with drumbeat and synth to great effect. It's great to see a debut album with its sights set so high and a band not afraid to attempt the epic and the grand. Their devotion is heard on the all-guns-blazing finale of One Prayer where Suggs exclaims, "It's our duty to go down with this ship." Hopefully that won't be necessary and if their maiden voyage is anything to go by this ship is destined for great things.

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26th Sep 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Susumu Yokota

Wonder Waltz

Susumu Yokota is undeniably a genius of modern music. Originating from Japan's minimal techno scene he has strived to create compositions of such complex depth and at the same time dazzling simplicity. His most praiseworthy work however has taken on a more abstract quality and still very much in his prime he has created three classic albums that defy comparison. Grinning Cat saw Yokota depict the Alice In Wonderland story through atmospheric soundscapes while The Boy And The Tree and his master work Sakura follow a similar path creating multi layered sounds out of sampled and live percussion and strange noises never before heard by the human ear. The result can barely be described as music but touches on a kind of ugly beauty that is absolutely captivating.

Wonder Waltz is his recent album on Lo Recordings and while it still has his trademark touch it is nowhere near as interesting. Listening to the three previously mentioned records can be a frustrating experience as they never quite give you what you think you want and quite often what you think you want is some sort of beat or rhythm to emerge out of these soundscapes to bring some form to the abstract. This album proves that you shouldn't trust those form searching instincts as he gives you exactly what you have craved for years and it is disappointing. There is too much form here and the result is a little ordinary. When I say ordinary I mean by Yokota's standards, as this is far better than most other down tempo music trickling out of the tired 'chill out' scene.

There are however glimmers of Yokota's genius throughout the album, the finest moment being Pegasus 150 with its eastern horns and vocal harmonies floating over a beat sampled entirely from galloping horses hooves. Another highlight comes with Robed Heart, a beautiful violin piece accompanied by a delicate percussion beat and vocals sung in English which sees yet another departure for Yokota.

So on the whole this is a solid album with many genuinely rewarding moments but seen in the context of his back catalogue Yokota proves that it's not always best to get what you want.

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26th Sep 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wooden Wand And The Sky High Band

Second Attention

New York avant-gardist Jason Toth re-emerges after last years solo album and his many outings with The Vanishing Voice to bring us this quality psych-folk classic. Second Attention is packed full of religious references which are delivered with Toth's ironic, country drawl and the result is refreshingly hard to label. Compared to his earlier work Second Attention is a relatively straightforward, song-orientated affair that channels healthy doses of Dylan and the odd dab of Hendrix.

The fantastically gospel Portrait In The Clouds starts off as a sing along folk ditty about religious redemption repeating the chorus "God's Portrait in the clouds, I am bloodthirsty no more." Then along with the strumming acoustic guitar comes an almost question and answer formation between a gloriously bluesy electric guitar and organ. This is a pattern employed on the most interesting moments on this record. The more conventional folk numbers like Crucifixion Pt. II and Dead Sue are where the early Dylan comparisons appear, with their rambling, repetitive story telling formation but the best moments are found in songs like The Bleeder, Sweet Xiao Li and Mother Midnight where The Sky High Band really shine. On the whole the band takes a back seat allowing Toth's vocals to take centre stage but on the occasions when the grimy electric guitar creeps in the song is transported to new territories. This is what ultimately makes this record a success; it's ability to surprise you. Even though by his standards Toth has created a relatively conventional piece of work it is clear to see that Second Attention has been born out of a colourful history of music appreciation.

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21st Sep 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Black Dahlia

(dir. Brian De Palma)

Brian De Palma's adaptation of James Elroy's 1987 novel was a hotly anticipated affair. The story of the infamous and brutal murder of 22 year old aspiring actress, Elizabeth Short, was dubbed 'unfilmable' in 1947 - and remains so after this appalling waste of time.

The film follows two tough cops on the hunt for the killer responsible for a crime that rocked Hollywood at the time, mainly due to the gruesome state the victim was found in. Cut in half, disembowelled and sliced from the mouth to both ears, Short's murder attracted a media frenzy. In response, the police department put their most celebrated cops on the case. Nicknamed Mr. Fire and Mr. Ice after their successful careers as boxers, these two soon find the public spotlight brings with it unbearable pressure from every angle to see this case through to a conviction. Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart), the gung-ho half of the duo, becomes strangely consumed by the case - much to the worry of his troubled wife … played here by Scarlett Johansson, His partner, Dwight "Bucky" Bleichert (Josh Harnett), assumes the role of the younger, naive cop who isn't fazed by the celebrity status, but just wants to see his idealistic view of justice done.

I would be here all day if I tried to divulge how the plot progresses from here and to be honest I'm not too sure myself. The story is packed full of subplot upon subplot to the point of utter confusion. Elroy's previous screen adaptation L.A. Confidential is just as complicated, but it is written and acted with such skill that you really engage with the characters and try hard to follow them through the complex web of double-crosses and deceit. The opposite is the case here - as the acting is amateur, with each performance rarely rising above a stereotype depiction of 40's film noir cop movies. To be honest I never expected much from Hartnett but I had imagined that the presence of Oscar Winner Hilary Swank would inject a touch of quality to the proceedings, but unfortunately not. To describe Johansson's performance as wooden would be an insult to Pinocchio. The only exception here is Mia Krishner's mesmerising scenes as Betty Short, seen in flash backs and found screen tests. She is dazzlingly beautiful and her deeply innocent and desperately sad eyes give you a clue as to why so many real life detectives became obsessed with this case.

The film as a whole is visually stunning, but style is never a wise substitute for content and despite the dazzling aesthetics De Palma fails to convince his audience of the depth and seriousness of his characters or the period in which they exist. In 1982 Steve Martin did a far better job in Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid and that was a spoof, not to mention Bugsy Malone.

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21st Sep 2006 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Blood On The Wall

Awesomer

Recently bands like Brakes and Blood On The Wall have opened the floodgates and made albums like department stores, there's something for everyone. They don't claim to specialise in anything but as a whole they create a record that reflects our current state of pluralism. This is the second full length from the New York trio and the pace and furious energy is maintained here as it was on their self-titled 2004 debut.

As their name may suggest Blood On The Wall don't create Gwar style death metal, instead Awesomer is a medley of furious punk, rolling indie-pop and ominous stoner rock. Vocal duties are shared between brother and sister duo Ben and Courtney Shanks and their styles couldn't be more different or more complimentary. Courtney delivers slow, brooding, breathy vocals not unlike the Cowboy Junkies while Brad takes the less subtle approach, screeching and wining like Frank Black's little brother.

Courtney's opener Stoner Jam is exactly what it claims to be until brother Brad comes in and scratches his nails down the blackboard of your ears with Reunite On Ice. You start to think how annoying this voice should be but it's not. Though Brad is certainly given the dirty work while Courtney is there to give the record weight she plays him at his own game on the dirty little number Can You Hear Me and Brad, not to be outdone, turns out some very listenable indie-pop gems like Right To Light Tonight and You Are A Mess. His finest moment is the short but sharp Gone, while she shines on Dead Edge Of Town.

Though it doesn't always work the eclectic nature of this band recalls early Beastie Boys, throwing in some truly pulverising punk interludes. If you chuck enough ideas around you are bound to end up with something exciting and that is what Awesomer is, it's one idea after another coming at you fast and with out care to the point where it seems so packed full that you find yourself amazed it only takes up 31 minutes of your time.

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14th Sep 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Danielson

Ships

More conceptual weirdness from the leader of art-rock collective the Danielson Family. Once you've got past the often irritating screeched vocals this is a rewarding experience.

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14th Sep 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Victorian English Gentlemen's Club

The Victorian English Gentlemen's Club

This is the debut album from the Cardiff based trio and although terms like art-pop or art punk are being banded around (like having met at art school makes this album a sure thing), don't be fooled. I was sceptical at first as they had all the makings of a big disappointment - lots of media hype, quirky name and heavy styling - but after the first listen you start to see that these early signs are very misleading. With Adam Taylor on vocals and guitar, Emma Daman on drums, Louise Mason on bass and all contributing to backing vocals the result is a rich yet stripped down noise that assaults and delights at the same time.

The first highlight comes early on with Stupid As Wood. It's dark rolling guitars tell you that it means business. Adam Taylor's vocals stab at you with erratic energy putting your nerves on full alert. Impossible Sightings Over Shelton could be the Pixies in their heyday while Such A Chore clatters around almost unrecognisably until a gloriously catchy chorus blasts in out of nowhere. A Hundred Years Of This Street is a minor masterpiece, changing pace at an unrelenting rate while Ban The Gin is pure, precocious noise. The finest moment has to be Under The Yews. Just as you've summed them up as angular punk who's power comes from it's simplified, raw sound you get this multi layered, slow burning ground assault that confidently creeps up and kicks your arse.

The great thing here is that, while very conscious of their roots and not ashamed to show their influences, this trio seems to bash around like they aren't even aware of a music scene and this honesty is displayed with cocky ease and the result is thrilling.

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13th Sep 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Little Miss Sunshine

(dir. Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris)

This is the feature film debut for directorial partnership Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris and sees them produce a delightful piece of cinema on a par with 2005's Sideways. Like Sideways, Little Miss Sunshine is a road movie that depicts deeply flawed characters in unusual and often forced situations struggling to cope with the pressures of life.

Here we have the Hoover family who are dysfunctional to say the least. Father Richard (Greg Kinnear), a hopelessly optimistic motivational speaker is trying to sell his nine-step programme to being a winner, supported and pitied by his wife (Toni Collette) whose brother (Steve Carell), a troubled Proust scholar, has just failed in his attempt to commit suicide. Meanwhile their Nietzsche obsessed son Dwayne has taken a vow of silence until he fulfils his goal of becoming a pilot while seven year old Olive, a slightly plump, four- eyed little girl dreams of becoming a beauty queen. As if all this wasn't eccentric enough they have a coke-snorting grandfather (Alan Arkin) living with them as well.

The film sees the Hoovers embarking on a long and tiresome journey to California in an old camper van after Olive gains a place in the Little Miss Sunshine finals. What we are treated to along the way is a touching portrait of family dynamics, the difficulties of being young and old and developing the ability to see what is truly important in life. The thing that makes this story so delightful is that the characters never slip into a stereotype, this is largely down to the writing but the subtle and heartfelt acting by everyone makes it compelling viewing. Abigail Breslin, who plays Olive is utterly charming and truly electrifying to watch but the foul mouthed grandfather is the one that really steals the show, one of his finest moments being his life lessons to the 15 year old son to "fuck a lot of women, not just one, a lot." He then goes on to say what a great position he's in being fifteen as he can have any fifteen year old he wants, if he waits till he's sixteen he could be looking at eight to ten.

The film doesn't try to make any judgements or provide any answers to the problems confronting these characters but that's where it shines. It is quite outrageous at times but always retains reality and with a proper belly laugh ending leaves you on a high. We have been swamped with Hollywood big budget movies this summer but with films like this it's important to remember that the American independent scene is, on the whole, a place of real quality and rare beauty.

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11th Sep 2006 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Midlake

The Trials Of Van Occupanther

This is the second outing for the Texas based lo-fi quintet Midlake, and sees them exploring 70's influenced soft rock to beautiful effect. Perfect vocal harmonies, layered guitar, strings and organs all contribute to make this a corny and yet surprisingly appealing piece of work.

The album begins with its finest moment. Roscoe could be a lost Fleetwood Mac classic. The lyric "When I was a child I wondered what if my name had changed to something more productive like Roscoe, and born in 1891 waiting with my aunt Roselyn," sets the scene of this song and, in fact, the whole album. It has an 'other worldly' quality to it as if hailing from a time long ago. Bandits floats gracefully on the breeze while Head Home picks up its feet slightly and threatens to disappear off into a classic Neil Young guitar solo but sadly never does. In This Camp does a similar thing but ups the anti a bit more making these two songs some of the most interesting moments. They change pace nicely with confident guitar work blowing out the cobwebs.

This record is so effortless in terms of a listening experience that I am surprised it doesn't become too easy and therefore forgettable, especially as it sometimes treads dangerously close to Travis territory. It's akin to looking through an old family photo album, with its bleached out images of you and your brother in 70's clothing, squinting at the sun, but then you keep flicking and the photos get older and you see how your grandparents used to live. There are moments of melancholy but overall the feeling of nostalgia is a comforting one.

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7th Sep 2006 - 5 comments - Add Comment - Tweet