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albums - current and forthcoming releases... page 9 |
Earlier Reviews | see previous reviews page (#8) |
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Reviewed by SPT
The Butthole Surfers’ career, equally like their songs, has been long, experimental and messy, though touched by moments of greatness. So an album of offcuts sounds like a distinctly risky proposition. Fortunately much of this is taken from the mid/late-eighties period when they were hitting more than missing and contains enough reasonable and unfamiliar stuff to fell like a decent new album for old fans that had despaired of their later stuff until the recent partial return to form. For any young’uns reading, the Buttholes made sure that the punk didn’t throw the baby out with the bathwater, giving a scatalogical hardcore filter to the better parts of sixties and seventies psychedelic rock, including nods to Hendrix and Zeppelin, as well as the likes of Roky Erikson (whose Earthquake is covered here). At their best they managed to wring a strange kind of pathos and danger out of their spiralling guitar, tape noise and semi-nonsensical ramblings. This collection isn’t quite that, and is only for the already converted, but it serves as a timely reminder of how they kept the seventies corpse warm enough to be picked over by the riffing grungesters, the punk progsters of Mogwai and, most recently, the joyous recreationists like the White Stripes. Reviewed
by SPT
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Often it’s funny, sometimes unintentionally as he explains in And When She Was Bad that he’s not usually the jealous type, you have to assume the ‘usual’ is the other 51% of his songs, but it’s all appealing and refreshing at a time when hip hedonistic garage bands concentrate on the merits of booze, fast cars and even faster women. Still not to be outdone, Gedgey delivers ‘Quick Before It Melts (ahem Extended Version)’, a clever and saucy tale of frantic lust. Other gems are the 60s movie meets Brassneck of ‘Careless’, the jaunty and madrigal ‘Estrella’ and the New Order-esq ‘Starry Eyed’. So overall, probably not one for the recently emotionally scarred, but for the rest of us an opportunity to sympathise with his unrequited emotions or wink at his conquests but most of all, to just enjoy a soppy genius at work. Reviewed
by Mawders |
Set : film / 146 degrees / superman / honey rider / your time starts now / apres ski / lollobrigida /' dance, girl, dance / heels / because i'm beautiful / hard, fast and beautiful / your charms / wow.
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Ignore the hype about “best debut album of all time?” or “Is Craig about to top himself?”. On the first, ask me again in six months time and on the second: well I missed that night in Scouts when they were giving out the NME amateur psychiatrist badges so I’ll pass on that one. All you need to know for now is that Highly Evolved lives up to the promise of the gigs and the singles and makes you think that maybe, just maybe, you’re listening to the album of 2002. There are nods to 60s garage and 90s grunge, to the Beatles and Blue Oyster Cult, but the overall sound is The Vines. It’s a secret that Oasis came close to but never cracked: how to fashion a song that speaks to us today using traditional tools. You can pick out the influences in the Vines but they’re used in a confident way, not arrogantly stolen from, say, John Lennon and refashioned in a dodgy secondhand car dealer way. Oasis fans would actually like this album as it has the same aspiring-to-anthemic sounds that their band try but can’t capture any more. Homesick is a good example: slowish, ballady, with a 60s West Coast mildly psychedelic feel and driven by lovely piano and acoustic guitar. It’s big but never sentimental or emotionally exploitative. There are a number of different styles mastered by Craig Nicholls and band here. There are the fast melodic rockers, most of which have been or will be released as singles, which combine Nirvana’s power with the melodic stylings of the Kinks or Beatles: the perfect, 90-second Highly Evolved, with its oblique lyrics reminiscent of Kurt Cobain “my time’s a riddle that’ll never be solved”, Get Free and new single Outtathaway which slips effortlessly from garage to grunge and back. Then there are the rockier songs, the Guns ‘N’ Roses sound of In The Jungle and the slightly unhinged and edgy Ain’t No Room. Turn again and find the mellow, psychedelic country-rockers. Mary Jane (yes, I think we smell your smoke, Craig) is laidback but never comfortable; Country Yard has reverberating guitar and Craig’s voice is particularly tender on this countryish song with an undertone of something lurking in the woods. Autumn Shade is dreamy, melodic, slightly Beatle-y and very inviting. Finally, you get the odd songs: Factory is a ska-pop gem, sounding considerably cleaner than when first released on Rex Records. In the tradition of ‘Ob-La-Di-Ob-La-Da’ its breezy melody contrasts with the darker lyrics. Sunshinin is, however, not a lot more than it’s bouncy beat and is probably the least memorable track on the album. The album is fresh, vital and represents the flowering of a considerable talent. Filter out the NME’s hysterical ratings-seeking rantings and make up your own mind about what’s burned into the disk. Odds are you’ll be back in six months with your own opinion on that first question.
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The Shakes are a Los Angeles band who genuflect to classic power pop bands like Big Star, Dwight Twilley and the Kinks. In fact, they’re a bit reminiscent of The Bangles if the latter had been (mostly) blokes (forget about how they looked; those early Bangles LPs had a great 60s pop sensibility). But though it’s easy to point to what The Shakes might have grown up on, there’s an inspired originality to them too. If you want fast-paced, hook-heavy, guitar-riffy, harmony-soaked songs in the classic pop tradition, the Shakes serve them up in bucketfuls. There are classic 60s girl-boy harmonies on Shining on You and Something Bitter Comes while Apartment Song sounds more Left Banke baroque, a quirky, piano-led melody. They go from cheesy cartoon-pop on Mine Mine Mine to the more intricate (3 minutes!) Plastic Promise, with its jazzy percussion and ultra-melodic chorus. Let’s Make Out has a tricksy arrangement with super catchy guitar riff and nods towards the heavier pop of the 70s. Oh Michelle is lovely, keening and hook-laden with a simple melody. And it’s probably the best track until you get to…. the “super-secret bonus track” which isn’t very secret (it’s track 12) or much of a bonus on a half-hour album but it is pretty super: a cover of Brittany’s ‘Oops I Did It Again’ in a power pop stylee! Imagine slick harmonies laid onto ‘Sunny Afternoon’ by the Kinks and you’re part way to understanding that the Shakes are canny students of pop music and floor fillers to boot! Reviewed
by Ged
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Though far from unrewarding, the latest album from the hitherto criminally ignored Cathal Coughlan makes for a tough listen. His way with a grimly poetic, and comic, lyric remains intact, painting pictures from the forlorn edges and underbellies of society (he himself displays great reluctance to parade examples out of context, which I’ll respect here). But while his mournful vocal and band’s musicianship is without reproof, there is a certain lack of the simple tunefulness that has leavened his previous offerings. The experimentation and supremacy of the lyrics within the compositions lend the album the feel of a particularly dour and misanthropic stage musical, a more dense and difficult companion to Tom Waits’ recent Blood Money perhaps. There’s more to admire than to love in this record, and it won’t win Cathal Coughlan any prizes or I fear many new listeners, but then again he never got much out of applying his considerable songwriting skill to playing the game either.
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| Flogging Molly are a seven piece from ?, USA and along with the Dropkick Murphys and of course the mighty Pogues they’ve picked up the mandolin, accordion and penny whistle, swilled a bucket load of stout and delivered a raucous, bog stomping collection of ditties of loving, fighting and quaffing whiskey. Just another night out for Mr MacGowan, perhaps? Indeed, it’s impossible to ignore the influence of Shane and the boys on this as the Mollys veer from Red Roses For Me style uncomplicated fist pumping Irish drinking songs to Hell’s Ditch style er uncomplicated fist pumping Turkish drinking songs. It even has the Steve Albini mark of approval, as he had some role in its recording, though not too much as the more delicate instruments are not lost under the fuzz of guitar or chug of bass. It’s an enjoyable journey, one that’s pretty unrelentless in its pace and passion with the only slow track being left to the end. This is undoubtedly mood music. If you want to chill out get a William Orbit CD, if you want to dust off the cobwebs and see if your floorboards can cope with a thirteen stone man flailing wildly around like a wounded buffalo then plump for this. I for one shall be keeping an eye open for live shows because I suspect, like most good Irish music it’s as much an event as a performance. Reviewed
by Mawders
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Looper's third album, and
their first on Mute, sees them adopting a somewhat darker tone than their previous
works. From the first track, the eerie, spy-movie twang of the dulcimer puts the
frighteners on the listener, before breaking into a lumpy, saxophone-punctuated rhythm.
Stuart David sings throughout with a breathy, husky voice, adding to the pervading sense
of menace. This really couldn't be further removed from the sugary, acoustic sound
of his former band Belle & Sebastian. Reviewed by tl |
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There are 21 tracks on this comp, with plenty of highlights and few real lowlights. The definition of ‘punk’ here is mostly of the GreenSpring 182 ilk although Hot Water Music sound like a sort of Oi!/Chelsea hybrid. Millencolin (from Sweden) open with ‘Fingers Crossed’, spirited speed punk a la Green Day, with a hook from New Found Glory’s ‘My Friend’s Over You’. The (International) Noise Conspiracy’s contribution, ‘Up For Sale’ has already been covered in the singles reviews. Great garage band song with an intro that’s a dead ringer for the start of ‘Eton Rifles’. Division of Laura Lee (Sweden again) are a Fugazi/MBV/J&MC hybrid. NOFX give us a slab of sub-Blink 182 bright pop-punk while Bad Religion offer ‘The Defense’; pounding, melodic Indian-tinged and intelligent. There are some pretty nifty songs from Pennywise, Pulley, Bouncing Souls and Beatsteaks, with some dentist’s drill guitar. Deviates have obviously passed their Offspring GCSE with flying colours, the singer doing his best Dexter Holland. Best track is the Drop Kick Murphys’ ‘Heroes From Our Past’; imagine SLF with a Ten Pole Tudor chorus backed by the Chieftains. Hell, just imagine the Pogues. Rancid’s ‘Bob’ surprisingly is one of the most uninspired, shambolic tracks. This is another album where the first half is better than the second, though 1208 and 98 Mute aren’t bad, despite the latter’s singer sounding like the abominable Fred Durst. Guttermouth’s throwaway ‘My Girlfriend’ has a fast reggae skank and reminds me of the Piranhas. The album goes out in rousing style with a mini Pogue-fest with Flogging Molly’s ‘What’s Left of the Flag’ and Dutch band Heideroosjes’ live rendition of ‘We’re All Fucked Up’. Reviewed
by Sleezy The beauty of "Quicksilver" is it's straight to the point, no messing, grab you by the balls and scream the tune approach. At times on this debut album, The Shining get dragged down into an almost early 70's prog level of indulgence. "Young Again" has the gem of a great tune, it's hooks and melodies are amongst the best in indie-rock this year, but it's all buried beneath the 2 minutes of jamming and feedback which conclude the song. Ditto "Show You The Way" and "Find Your Way Home". It's like 'Be Here Now' never happened. The strange thing is, when The Shining are short and sweet and delicate and acoustic, such as on "What You See" they are spellbindingly beautiful, as tender and charming as any no ideas acoustic troubadour. But mostly this is an album of missed opportunities, wasted chances, and bad tunes. Current single "I Wonder How" is passable enough, in an Oasis demo kind of way, but "Crest Of A Wave" is utterly unsalvageable, it's horrible mandolin opening bringing back terrible memories of early 70's Rod Stewart albums, and the birth of the Lad Culture which Dadrock clings to with it's crusty old fingernails. "What You See" is a Led Zeppelin inspired mess, and album closer "Until The End" is 9:46 of meandering solos, uninspired vocals, banal lyrics and outdated 'technological' effects. Somewhere deep within this album, there's a rousing and powerful rock 'n' roll record fighting to get out. The musical equivalent of an arrogant yet innocent youth being grounded by his cardigan and slippers father. Reviewed
by Joe |
| NEW FOUND GLORY Sticks and Stones (-) |
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| In a
world that seems to have been recently inundated with nu-metal, punk and emo bands, you
hope and you wish and you pray that occasionally, just occasionally, there
will be a beacon of hope, a ray of light, in the shape of a band with at least a moderate
amount of originality and talent. A word of warning: do not look to New Found Glory as
your saviours. Sadly, with the exception of about three (very average) tracks, Sticks and Stones is complete rubbish. There's nothing on it to distinguish it from Blink 182, Sum 41 or any other shite wannabe punksters. In fact, lead singer Jordan Pundik sounds uncannily like the bloke from Sum 41 on more than one track. Do all of these bands have the same voice coaches or something? "Sticks and Stones" is all shouty vocals, silly lyrics and loud guitars; (all fine if you're a 12 year old boy) but I found it boring, repetitive and unremarkable. Nay, perhaps I'm being a tad too harsh on NFG. There are a couple of catchy songs, most notably the single "My Friends Over You" and "Head-On Collision". There's even a (rather futile) attempt at a heartfelt acoustic ballad with "The Story So Far". Unfortunately, as a whole, it's just another tragic case of standard, unoriginal nu-punk. When will this fad pass? Hopefully, soon. To quote Pundik, "Why would you listen anyway?". Yes, why would we? I'd rather drink my own wee than put myself through that again, thank you. Maybe next time, eh? Errr, then again, maybe not. Reviewed by Neon |
| SONIC YOUTH Murray Street
(Geffen) |
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With Jim O’Rourke on board you might have expected more experimentation and improvisational guitar squawkings, but it’s actually become more powerful and controlled, more melodic and song-centred. Where previous albums have had highs and lows, Murray Street is more focused and consistently good. The arrangements are so complex that they’re more than just songs (try out Rain On Tin for a mini guitar orchestra) and they just get better on repeated listenings as you begin to pick out what’s deep in the mix. The 11-minute Karen Revisited is a case in point. Where once it might have become an opportunity to play guitars with screwdrivers and pummel the listener into submission or catatonia, it’s now highly structured and better for it. It kicks off as a classic Youth-type song, a repetitive guitar figure in the foreground and a hint of spiralling guitars some way off and mutates after three minutes into something quite different: a minute or so of feedback and guitars start to throb and noodle, it’s all quite bucolic at first then more menacing and finally placid but it’s never formless and always listenable. They can’t sing convincingly about teenage riots any more but echoes of the old Sonic Youth come through in the shortest track Plastic Sun. Kim sings in an insistent, angry, in your face way. The Empty Page is melodic and builds to a crescendo after about two minutes when it becomes pretty wigged out but in a structured way. It still has more electricity than a barrel of electric eels but it’s released at their own pace. Radical Adults Lick Godhead Style has echoes of Daydream Nation in the way it builds into something big and fierce but listener-friendly as it shoots off into screaming guitars and battered percussion. By contrast, Disconnection Notice is languid and elegiac with the focus on Thurston’s voice in a very traditional structure and perhaps the best track on the album. New York art rock might not be your bag but this is the most consistently accessible, melodic album I think they’ve made. And in doing that, it might be the most subversive thing they’ve done too.
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This is I confess aimed at the Cinerama fan, and is simply a live record of
one gig in its entirety. This follows in the footsteps of the example of David Gedge's
former band, The Wedding Present, of producing tapes of gigs for fans. I have to say
this CD is utterly brilliant. It perfectly captures a Cinerama experience - it's
perfectly recorded, the versions of the songs are excellent (they all stand up well live
so no point in singling them out!), and there's much of David's banter with the
crowd. The recording is so good it is like being in the audience, it captures that
intimate live feel (I assume that the venue is pretty small). It actually manages
makes you feel like you are there! One word of warning though - the Los Angeles
audience tends to go Whoh! a lot, but thankfully only generally between songs. The
CD can be ordered from the