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albums - reviews... page 7 |
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Ant Badly Drawn Boy Bluetones Chris T-T Comet Gain Elvis Costello Dexys Echo and Bunnymen Embrace Fischerspooner David Holmes Invisible Lead Soup Jam Kennedy Soundtrack Helen Love McLusky Miles Hunt Club Bob Mould Mum New Pornographers Pogues Rival Schools Serious Aeolian Belfry Soulwax Wilt Various Bootlegs Various Garage |
Earlier Reviews | see previous reviews page (#6) MUM Finally we are no one () Hailing from Iceland, Mum are a refreshing blend of folk and electronica, switching neatly between the atmospheric, emotional melodies of Boards of Canada, and the harsh clicks and cuts of Autechre. Think Boards of Canada but with a sugar coating. And hundreds and thousands. And fizzy pop. Mum evoke such lovely childish memories of cloudless summer days, jamboree bags and Grange Hill…the thing is, you dont even know you’ve got them, until you hear the Valtysdottir twins singing in their childish breathy way. These guys are not barking like their fellow Icelander, Bjork, they are merely eccentric. With some delicious titles such as ‘Don’t be afraid, you have just got your eyes closed’ and ‘I cant feel my hand any more, its alright, sleep still’, this is a gorgeous feel good album, and I defy anyone not to smile at tracks like ’we have a map of the plane’ and ‘behind two hills,,,a swimming pool’. They are just so…well…damn cute ! This is not to say that the whole album is fluffy…no no no, they have some darker moods, highlighted in the ghostly ‘Now theres that fear again’, but the overall vibe is a fond ‘remember when… ’. They may be the Golden Grahams to the Boards of Canada’s muesli, but a better sound has not eminated from Iceland since the Sugarcubes. Mum, has indeed, gone to Iceland… Reviewed by Eggz WILT My Medicine (Mushroom) Who was it that said time travel is impossible? Whilst most of the current new bands chose the late seventies as their reference point, judging by this album Wilt have managed to master it just enough to take them back to the early nineties, and while they were there they spent most of their time in Our Price. On several occasions whilst listening to this I had to get up and check I hadn’t put on an early REM album or something by Sugar, as the vocal delivery could easily be Michael Stipe or Bob Mold, and there are intros that could have been comfortably lifted off of Nevermind or Dookie. Is plagiarism a bad thing? Not when it’s done well. If you find yourself often going through your back catalogue of CD’s and putting on stuff from this period then I have no doubt that you will enjoy this album. There are enough tunes, riffs and sweet vocal couplets to keep the casual listener hooked, and the future singles "Take Me Home" and "Distortion" have the potential to be minor hits should there be sufficient radio airplay. Their style hasn’t exactly changed much since the last album, but why try to fix something when it isn’t broken. Musically they stick to simple chord progressions and time signatures, which isn’t adventurous or clever but gets the job done, and they spent their time concentrating on the lyrics, which on the whole have a certain poetry about them. Calling this the new Murmur might be pushing it a bit, so maybe Copper Blue Revisited would be a more accurate description, but a worthy effort none the less. Reviewed by Micky Bananas SOULWAX 2 Many DJ’s (Pias Recordings) Banned outside of Holland and Belgium for copyright reasons this has been slipping into the country over the last few months, mainly in bootleg form. Basically you won’t find it in your local HMV, Woolies or Megastore. It’s an hour long mix of nearly fifty records, covering almost every type of popular music imaginable from hip hop to indie, garage punk to cheese, kitsch pop to electro hardcore. Somehow the result is a success, it avoids becoming a Jive Bunny and because it uses so many familiar non dance chart records it gives those of us who don’t wake up dehydrated and face down in an old disused aircraft hanger every Sunday morning the chance to actually recognise some of the tracks. So if I say that they mix Destiny’s Child’s Independent Women Part 1 with 10cc’s Dreadlock Holiday and that you don’t actually want to hurl your hifi through the window you’ll realise that there’s something odd going on here. The album kicks off spectacularly with ELP’s ‘Peter Gunn’ fusing with Basement Jaxx’s classic ‘Where’s Your Head At’ before being joined by the mucky Peaches ‘Fuck the Pain Away’ and then ‘I’m Waiting For The Man’ by the Velvets. Great stuff. Other successful jams are the Stooges ‘No Fun’ and Salta n Pepa’s ‘Push It’ and Skee lo’s ‘I Wish’ with ‘Cannonball’ by the Breeders. Others are just snippits of classics such as ‘Human Fly’ by the Cramps, ‘Danger! High Voltage’ by the Wildbunch and even a Euro electropop version of ELO’s ‘Don’t Bring Me Down’. All in all, a great dance album for people who might not normally consider themselves dance fans… if you can track down a copy. Reviewed by mawdersComment on this artist or review on the Forum BOB MOULD Modulate (Cooking Vinyl) Oh Bob! What were you thinking? The man who brought you Husker Du and Sugar, and who by many is considered the godfather of Alternative Rock has decided to re-invent himself. This album has all the classic symptoms of the musician who has built his own recording studio down the bottom of his garden, and has spent the last few months twiddling with the knobs on his new drum machine and associated Roland TR-blah-blah-blah’s. There’s a distinct lack of outside influences and suggestions from other band members in the tunes, to the extent that it is completely self-indulgent. Where artists like Radiohead have embraced technology and employed it to enhance their sound, Bob has resorted to throwing everything into the mix in the hope that through the mess something interesting will emerge. It doesn’t. There are moments which in truth are painful to the ear, where I swear you can hear a Bontempi home organ or a Casio VL-Tone bleeping away in the background, and the drum loops sound so regimented that aural epileptic fits could be induced. Oh, and by the way, using a stylophone is only clever when you are trying to be funny, not when you think that that retro sound is cool.There are a couple of tracks that hark back to better times. "Slay/Sway" and "The Receipt" have a classic Mould sound, mainly because he allows the guitars to poke up through the mix, but these moments are few and far between. At best the album sounds like New Order on a bad day, and at worst Peter Gabriel’s "So" hastily remixed by Neds Atomic Dustbin. There’s nothing on this album that even comes close to "The Act We Act" or "Hoover Dam", so if they are your Mould benchmarks I suggest giving this a wide berth. Stick to what you are good at Bob, and leave the experimentation to the people who know what they are doing. Reviewed by Micky Bananas McLUSKY Mclusky Do Dallas (Too Pure) Rock ‘n’ rock is usually loud and dumb but this is the most focused, intelligent and rhythmic record I’ve heard in the last few months. Steve Albini produces (brilliantly – the sound is powerful but clearly reveals the band’s strengths) and Mclusky obviously worship at the altar of Shellac, while also lighting candles to Sonic Youth and the Fall. The result is an adrenaline-shooting, driving rhythm overset with manic guitar and even more impassioned shouty vocals. And sweary! Even the slowest number is called “Fuck This Band” and “Gareth Brown Says” begins “all your friends are cunts/and your mother is a ballpoint pen thief”. Don’t get into an argument with these Tourettes boys! The lyrics generally are as modern and clever as the Super Furry Animals, dealing with sex, celebrity, serial murder and TV. From angular and angry (“Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues” and Clique Application Form” – all superb titles) to melodic punk (“Whoyouknow”) Mclusky demand your attention and won’t tootle in the background while you try and sleep off a hangover. This demands and deserves attention. Best track on here, the last single “To Hell With Good Intentions” is a mix of Sonic Youth’s ‘Death Valley 69’ and ‘Youth Against Fascism’ – yeah, it’s that good. This is fantastic power punk; cherish this band because, as they sing: “if they split up/you’ll be responsible”. And you can’t risk that. Reviewed by Ged DEXYS MIDNIGHT RUNNERS Don’t Stand Me Down – The Directors Cut (EMI) This is a tidied up and remastered version of the final Dexys album, originally released back in 1985. It followed the huge worldwide success that was Too Rye Aye and in typical Rowland style was a radical departure from its predecessor. Where Too Rye Aye had succeeded with its celtic pop gems, Don’t Stand Me Down was more of a concept album with its lengthy tracks, recorded conversations and no obvious single. So whilst Kevin Rowland may have possessed one of the purest, richest voices that these Isles have ever produced it was commercial suicide. Despite its relative failure sales-wise it often crops up in lists of best lost unknowns and occasionally even best ever albums period. Why? Well, whilst it lacks the rollicking enthusiasm and joy of his earlier efforts it has a matureness musically that reminds one of Van Morrison with the use of piano and violin giving it a full rounded sound and Kev and Billy’s chats resembling a staged show performance before adoring friends and family. Not quite Frank and Sammy Jr but you get the idea. A wonderful album but probably realistically still one for hardcore fans only. Reviewed by mawders With its whimsical English humour, the album is very Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band with the odd English pop-psych influence (early T Rex, Sid Barrett) and nods in the direction of 70s progressive rock. Too many tracks and a wide a variety of styles (including doo-wop, Merseybeat and music hall) make it a little hard to digest as a whole but it's fun to play "spot the influence" on individual tracks. "Don't Let Me Fall" is a lovely Todd Rundgren type power-pop ballad. Mum, where's me Afghan? More info at www.thesoup.co.uk Reviewed by Ged |
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 EMBRACE Fireworks
- The Singles (Hut) It seems funny when you look back at how Embrace were perceived when they ambled into the Indie arena in 1997. Northern grit, massive tunes, brothers in the band, they were groomed as the natural successors to the Oasis crown. Now, they resemble a tired, spent force, an outfit that sees fit to issue a half hearted Greatest Hits after barely 5 years of a career. What went wrong?? Typically, the early stuff is quite magical. "Fireworks", their greatest ever song, is a moving and swooping as you could wish for. Danny McNamara's much maligned vocals seem genuinely hangdog here, and the sloopy cello adds to the dramatic, heavy nature of the song. Similar early offerings are just as impressive. The blustering "All You Good Good People", the rousing "Come Back To What You Know", the moving "My Weakness..". These are great tunes all, but soon the warnings come. The embarrassed blunder of "Hooligan", the Boo Radleys-ite mistake of "You're Not Alone", the lazy, pointless beach workout of "Wouldn't Wanna Happen..". Only the cracking "Save Me", well, saves it. Their most recent album, was a mish mash of more downbeat tunes. Only two of which are contained here, both of which represent their nadir. Both are tired, and smack of a band burnt out and running out of ideas. You long for the classy brass of "Good People" or the electric bluster of "One Big Family". But alas, Embrace have slipped into painful self-parody.This is a sad, money-making collection of songs. Ignore it. Reviewed by Joe Once clear of the slightly bizarre, spoken intro, we're teleported into the psychedelic candy-land of Sixto Rodriguez' "Sugar Man", a gloriously soulful ballad shot through with searing acid-trippiness. Hard on it's heels comes the hugely infectious Johnny Otis' "Country Girl", to my mind the highlight of the album. Other cracking tracks include the absurdly funky Betty Adams' "Ride On", and if you can convince yourself that covering Purple Haze isn't sacrilege, Johnny Jones and the King Casuals have a treat in store. This is David Holmes at his best, confidently plundering his vinyl collection to give us a cool, kooky, funky soundtrack to a chilled night in. Forget "Chillout Classics volume 102" - get this, and never leave your sofa again. Reviewed by TL
When you’ve released as many albums as Elvis Costello, the fear of repeating yourself must be almost paralysing at times. There’s been little chance of repetition with some of his most recent releases and, whilst you have to admire his single - or bloody - mindedness as he strode off into various musical pastures, I have to admit I’ve struggled with some of that stuff. Which must have really weighed on his mind. So as the first chords of “45”, the opening track on his new long playing record chimed out, a sigh of relief and recognition passed from the now bloated face of this conservative fan. “Ah, yes, complicated shadow” I lisped, and the fawning young acolytes at my feet marvelled at my wisdom. And it’s true, I reckon, there is an awful lot that’s familiar across the album. But this is a long way from a simple rehashing of old songs. Yeah, at times you think this song could have been an outtake from any number of albums from his back catalogue. But there’s also some new departures in here. There’s usually a new take on some of those recurrent lyrical and musical themes of his. And there’s stuff which I think stands up against anything he’s ever done. So, “45” settles quickly into one of those Costello pop songs that crop up regularly throughout his career, right back from My Aim is True. But it’s immediately clear his felicity with words remains strong. The title covers a number of motifs as he looks back over - well, what exactly? His career, a relationship, the story of pop music, the land fit for heroes? Buggered if I know for sure, which is one of the things I’ve always found with his lyrics. I rarely understand completely what he’s on about in a song, but even his most incomprehensible (to me) lyrics always sound interesting (and make for good quotes if you can be sure no-one will ask you to interpret them - just say it, smile ironically and knowingly, and move quickly on); but very often bits of songs make connections and touch real nerves. They may not make the connections Costello means himself, but sod it, let’s take from them what we want. So here 45 is the end of the war, the pop single, middle age, a gun. Maybe you have to be of a certain age to remember how important singles could be - but even now, when relationships break up, dividing up the records is still the killer. “Bass and treble heal every hurt. There’s a rebel in a nylon shirt”. And the song fades out with the trademark Steve Nieve organ. Aaah, Elvis. There’s a few more of those classical pop/rock tracks across the album. “Tear off your own head” is a bouncy Monkeesish tune coupled with some strange lyrics about dolls; “Dissolve” is a fantastic shouting rant with driving blaring guitar thoughout and some superb simple rasping harmonica. “Daddy can I turn this?” is actually pretty much the same, minus the harmonica, but never mind; no mould-breakers, but absolutely nothing wrong with some feedback and noise every now and again. Elsewhere, there’s some old favourites revisited and some musically more experimental stuff. If you’re concerned about him becoming a mellow man, listen to “Alibi” and you’ll be glad (actually, maybe not) to know the bitch is back. If you like your songs dripping with bile check this out. A slow backing, with some choppy guitar chords and reverb and organ is overlaid with some of his most caustic lyrics yet; in fact it’s not the lyrics in themselves that are caustic. Take them out of the song and they are commonplace, inoffensive, banal, dull. “….and you’re such a people person….”; “…you deserve it, cos you’re special….”;”….you were weak you couldn’t help it, but you never had a pony…” But add the contempt in his singing - lordy Miss Clawdy, that man can sing with a sneer - and you realise how those same phrases can become the most nauseating, self-serving cant you’ve ever heard. Coupled with a sweet chorus - “If I’ve done something wrong, there’s no ifs and buts, cos I love you just as much as I hate your guts” - you can only help this is not directed at any one person (or if it is, they don’t know who they are). Me, the more I hear it the more for some reason I keep thinking of New Labour. If anything, it maybe goes on too long - by the end of the track he’s in danger of sounding like an embittered, gin-sodden old journalist. But it’s still nasty fun. “Spooky Girlfriend” makes you want to wash your hands. One of his shuffling rambles, musically and lyrically, through the seedier side of boy meets girl, or rather Man called Uncle meets This year’s Model - “she says are you looking up my skirt, when you say no she says why not”. “Soul for Hire” unfortunately reminds you of just how ugly a tunesmith he sometimes can be; an interesting opening is ruined by one of those too frequent sections where all he seems interested in doing is cramming too many words in and loses interest in the melody; and you in turn can lose interest in the song. “15 Petals” is a mess. It just doesn’t work for me. I’m not sure if it’s the production that lets it down. There seems like a real good song in there somewhere, but a driving drumming back-beat is spoiled by too many different things taking their turn. It’s overwhelmed by iffy brass arrangements. “Tart” is probably the one song on the album that really does sound like him simply dusting off an old song and not doing much with it; you’ll really think you’ve heard this one before. “Blue Window” is nice but nothing much more and another one where he doesn’t put much effort into the melody; that said it’s got a neat chorus and I really liked the way it’s repeated at the end to fade out. I desperately wanted to like “Another Episode of Blonde”. God knows, it should work, a vaguely southern USA/Mexican rhythm, with Costello narrating a cautionary tale leading into a fine chorus. But sadly Elvis, for all his lyrical expertise, doesn’t quite cut the Tom Wait mustard; his story-telling isn’t as compelling or surreal, and his voice doesn’t quite seem up to it. Which leaves the ones I love. I’m not sure there is anything particularly radical about “When I was Cruel”. It comes on like Clubland touching acquaintance with Pulp’s Hardcore, but the sound and lyrics come together beautifully, and it’s played in the slower tempo and lower register which his voice suits so well. Where sometimes his tongue can be too brutal, this time his eye’s as sharp as ever but he’s more willing to make allowances for those lies that people gradually give in to believing about themselves as they weary. “There’ll be no sorrows left to drown, early in the morning in your evening gown.” There’s simple, melancholic counter-playing between the guitar, piano and what sounds like a faint trumpet or trombone, and an odd little gasped “unh” repeated over and over that - god knows why - sends a shiver down your spine. And looking back Elvis refrains that “.. it was so much easier when I was cruel”. A sad but gorgeous song. If “Dust Could only Speak” is a classically constructed song - or rather two classically constructed songs, as the first version is reprised later. It’s got a gumbo, spiritual bass and drum rhythm, with some shimmering, reverberating guitar breaks - and brass breaks which work brilliantly this time. The lyrics evoke some deep south preacher warning us that all our lies and (in)actions are always with us, even if turned to dust. Guilt and quiet anger infest the song, and musically it builds beautifully not with any increase in tempo or volume but just a gradual layering of sound. The last track on the album, “Radio Silence”, is a downbeat coda to 45’s more jaunty introduction. Again he makes great use of feedback and reverb to create an almost desolate sound, especially when played behind the bass line. There’s grief and especially loss hanging over the lyrics and the music. What for - again, who’s sure? His own career, where radio silence now seems unavoidable? A relationship? The more I listened to it the more I couldn’t help thinking of September 11 but that’s probably the sort of shallow, emotional response he’d pour scorn on if he could be bothered. But there’s a palpable sadness in the song, a looking back and regret for something now gone. So, he’s probably not essential listening any more; but then really who is. You catch your moment and then it’s gone. But he can still surprise you and he can still touch you (it’s a shame there’s none of his classic love songs on this). And many have built and are building careers by never surprising you or touching you. He’ll always be worth a listen, into his dark ages. Reviewed by Brendan MILES HUNT CLUB Miles Hunt Club
(EAGCD197) Oh dear, dear, dear. Once more, here’s the dilemma. Bright young thing of yesteryear is now fully grown today and…the thing is a bit dull. Miles Hunt, the long Shirley Temple haired wacky centre of the mighty Wonderstuff who burst vibrantly onto the scene…(oh years ago, do you expect facts here?)… with frenetic, funny, bitter joyous songs filled with Mile’s splenetic vocals. It may be that times change of course but you might think that, Samson-like, Miles has lost his passion along with his shorn locks. And as if to compensate songs become looser, longer and more prone to meandering around a point that is almost pointless. That’s not to say this is a bag of shite. It isn’t. In fact, it starts well with “Everything is Not OK” a soaring rhythmic tune that is the best antidote to the facile popmentality of all is well in this best of all possible worlds (which we all know is a crock but pop sells fantasy). Up to about the half way point the songs are interesting and work well in a middle aged indie rock way. “Straight Lines” is, for example, a lovely slow thoughtful song. Miles voice is as individual as ever, and you can still hear that spleen in his vocal. But there are some snorebore efforts – slow, ponderous, meandering moaning, where Miles becomes an unwelcome boorish depressive - which ruin it all and prevent you from caring very much at all. “Love Can Make You Sorry” is truly awful. Slow and tedious and even though you’ve got the idea from the title alone Miles spends about 4 minutes moaning the title over and over. The only relief is the even worse Clapton guitar solo. “Flapping on the Pier” is another culprit, whose only saving grace is that the guitar riff is lifted from Lloyd Cole’s etc Forest Fire. A curate’s egg then. Well, what’s that programme function for eh? Reviewed by Kev
Just as Britain goes garage punk crazy, lapping up the latest guitar based rock n roll offerings from the States (the Strokes, White Stripes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, (Oz (the Vines) and Sweden (the Hives), it seems in one part of Canada at least Britpop still reigns. Vancouver ‘super-group’ The New Pornographers have plundered the now rarely consulted vinyl vaults of Blighty for this their second album. Bands clearly influencing here are Supergrass, XTC and Silver Sun. So you get euphoric powerpop, sweet harmonies and more keyboards than a Moog factory. They use two vocalists, both of whom are excellent, but it’s the female one, Neko Case, who you really want to hear more, much more, from and it’s her two tracks, Mass Romantic and Letter from Occupant that are the highlights. Her voice is wonderful, like a nightingale warbling through a beard of bees. It will have its detractors who will hate its quirky pop and dismissers will label them the new They Might Be Giants but if you’re in the mood for throwaway aural poppettes you could do a lot worse than this - a little over 40 minutes of toe tapping cheesy fun. Reviewed by mawders SERIOUS AEOLIAN BELFRY What
The Hell Is This? (Serious Aeolian Belfry) Far
out. Crazy name, crazy guys…crazy music? Not quite, but it’s
an oddity. Once or twice I did ponder the question that is the title: but now I think I
know what Hell this is. SAB are doing something original but I think this is lorded
over by the anti-establishment/ movement, sarcastic/irreverent/scatological, musically
adept and diverse ghost of the one and only Frank Zappa. This is either a homage to
uncle Frank, or a pastiche. Whether it matches up or is better I can’t tell,
and don’t care really. You may like this sort of thing or think that to do this in
this day and age is to be firmly stuck in the arse end of yesteryear. Frankly, all that
technical proficiency and fannying about is not my cup of tea (Did you know tea was a term
used by the Beats for marijuana? – Druggy Ed)., but that is not to deny that SAB
display a musical virtuosity and zest that flies in the face of many a po-faced
miserablist. What
this is is a 20 track/70 min listening ‘experience’ of comical sketches (with a
general druggy/genital fixation bordering on the puerile) and old time Zappaesque
rock/funk/jazz influenced tunes. This is not for listening in one go (unless
you’ve a long journey, or I suspect too druggy-lazy to switch it
off). Like a magpie with diarrhoea this pops and plops all over the
place. I doubt if this has much relevance to today but SAB obviously had fun doing
it and it’s a chuckle. I particularly like the sentiments of “If You
Don’t Like It, Go Join A Commune!” but a tune that goes on about how great
“Chunky Peanut Butter” is does not do it for me at all. Perhaps I should
lighten up…Nah, if I wanted to lighten up I’d join a commune. To be
fair this is not bad on its own terms but not for the casual listener I reckon (unless, of
course, you’re VERY casual dude). If you are looking for something very
different to what is current this might be your cup of tea. SAB are producing their
own music, outside of the mainstream and indeed outside of the music industry: the only
place to get this CD is at the SAB website www.arothman.com Reviewed by Kev VARIOUS The Best Bootlegs in the World Ever… When I was younger, bootlegs were tapes of bands recorded live and usually very ropily, from somewhere in the middle of the audience, on a tinny Walkman. But now “bootleg” means a record made by sticking a vocal from one song onto a tune from another, usually from a contrasting genre (e.g. rock-credible plus pop-fluffery) sometimes with some beats added to disguise the join. And when it works, you get a new song whose parentage is clear but has a musical life of its own. The legality is even more dubious because the beauty of the bootleg is in the recognition of its source material and therefore the lawyers will argue that the artist is being denied royalties. Hence this collection of bootlegs is released on No Label, catalogue number NL1. But when the bootleg really comes together, like on Soulwax’s blend of Salt and Pepa with The Stooges on “Push It/No Fun”, it’s a case of the whole being greater than the parts, so that the bootlegger effectively becomes the artist, and – on some of these tracks – what an artist! We’ve already reviewed The Freelance Hellraiser’s Strokes/Aguilera combo, “A Stroke of Genius” which is exactly that. But he matches Nirvana with Destiny’s Child on “Smells Like Booty” and “I Just Can’t Get Enough Pills” combines Depeche Mode and D12. Meanwhile Girls On Top produce “Being Scrubbed” which is breathtaking in its cheek: who had the brilliant idea to mash together “Being Boiled” by the Human League and “No Scrubs” by TLC? I’m not a teenpop fan but I’ve been exposed to enough Radio 1 flimflam to recognise most of these tunes. It’s an extension of the whole sampling movement but a fascinating and fun exercise for everyone, if you can get access to these tunes. Admittedly, there’s a great deal of novelty - Eminem meets Fatboy Slim on “My Name is Funk Soul Brother” is a masterpiece of editing but gets annoyingly Bleep and Boosterish very fast while “Sealion Dion” is a good pun but a no-go singer. If you want to hear what a rapping Cure might sound like, check out Kurtis Rush’s “One Minute Lovecat” or MC Sleazy’s “Don’t Call Me Blur”, mixing Song 2 and Madison Avenue’s “Don’t Call Me Baby”. But some of these are great records in their own right. “A Stroke of Genius” should be on any future Strokes’ Greatest Hits while the Missy Elliott/Tubeway Army “We Don’t Give a Damn About Out Friends”, introduced by a Cramps sample, is so unusual it attaches itself to your internal jukebox like a brain parasite. Like the bootlegs themselves, sample and see! Reviewed by Ged ANT A Long Way to Blow a Kiss (Fortune and Glory) Being
a fan of Hefner it is with some excitement and trepidation that I approach drummer
Ant’s first full length solo (with a little help from some friends) LP. (One
always want solo efforts to be like the main band because that’s what we like, yet at
the same time we want something totally different but as good as). I
shouldn’t have worried. This is a very different and wonderfully affecting
individual lo-fi work. Recorded and mixed at home on an 8 track the songs are mainly
acoustic gtr, drum machine and keyboard affairs. The pared down approach suits the
songs well: these are light, melancholic sweet musings. And Ant’s voice is a
genuine joy: gentle and fragile it manages to convey sadness without being cloying or
depressing. In some places, such as on “Maybe Love Will Return” a soft
organ noted and plucked acoustic tune, he sounds like a Mark Linkous (= good in my book),
and if you are looking for comparisons then an acoustic Sparklehorse, or else Whistler and
B&S spring to mind as bands who create(d) similar gentle bitter sweet songs.
However, this is a much more lo-fi and all the more personal sounding collection of songs,
and all the better for that in my view – it’s as if you are hearing Ant
playing them in his bedroom next door to you. Creating an LP of such delicately
flavoured songs that don’t leave you feeling sick with bittersweetness is hard to do
but Ant has done it. Songs like Waste the Days Away, I Always Hurt the One I Love
and April Rain contain enough hooks and melodies to make you want to keep replaying them
again and again, and the whole the album drifts by like a sunny day (after you’ve
been dumped). Can I
say “It’s Ant-astic!” (No. You’re fired. Again. - Pun censoring Ed). Reviewed by Kev THE KENNEDY SOUNDTRACK Tale Of Two Cities (Instant Karma) Listening to this record is a truly painful experience. Not because of the blistering volume, not because of the frequent swearing, but because this is tired formulaic music masquerading as something new and exciting. The Kennedy Soundtrack are a Welsh metal band who play the kind of soul-destroying Nu-Metal that I thought we were getting rid of. Riding on the success of the much better Lostprophets, this is a dull as debut album I've heard in years. Only opening track "Wrong Day" offers any hope, with it's Rage Against The Machine in a washing machine sound and knowing pop hook. That's The Kennedy's one moment of glory. It's all downhill from here. From the (hed) PE stolen riff of "24-7" to the pointless mantra of "Dark Dayz" (check out that cool Z!!) which thankfully dispenses with the expletive filled lyrics, but replaces it with a soulless pounding drum. Of course, there are other tracks on this album, but ALL of them are so faithless, pointless are worn out, that they don't even deserve a mention. I listened to this album 17 times in the vain hope it would improve. It didn't. Leave music like this to your Linkin Park obsessed 12 year old brother. Reviewed by Joe
The Jam’s personal silver jubilee is celebrated with this comp, a genuine best of covering the undisputed pick of their singles, album tracks and b-sides. Its twenty six tracks remind you just how good Paul Weller once was, matching terrific 60s tinged riffs, punk power chords and clever lyrics ranging from the angry to the tender. The die hard collectors will find little new here to tempt them (just a new version of That’s Entertainment) but for those of us with just a load of scratched vinyl or the singles comp CD to fall back on, it’s a compulsory purchase. Reviewed by mawders |
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 BADLY DRAWN BOY About
a Boy (Twisted Nerve)Damon Gough’s second album is the soundtrack to a forthcoming big screen version of Nick Hornby’s best selling novel of the same name. The problem with soundtracks that are specifically written for a film as opposed to a compilation of previously released material is that they tend to be understated backdrops for the action on screen, never intended to distract you too much from what you have actually paid your money for ie a bare chested Bruce Willis running amok with a bazooka. Cut adrift from their visual strings they rarely succeed. However as ever Damon Gough has proven himself capable of breaking the norm; producing the charming little classical instrumental ditties that are the bread and butter of your average soundtrack whilst also delivering many of his more familiar vocal acoustic hum-alongs. There’s more than enough to please the many stirred into buying his debut on the back of its awards. There’s the quirky “There’s a Peak You Can Reach”, the Christmassy “Donna and Blitzen”, the Dylanesq “A Minor Incident” and the marvellous “Something to Talk About” but many of the best tracks are little more than brief meandering instrumental doodlings, gently lapping at your consciousness and over before you’ve really taken in just how lovely they were. It all actually makes you want to see the film which bearing in mind it stars Hugh Grant is saying something. His next normal album is expected later this year so our benny hatted hero has obviously been very busy. In the meantime expect this album to be accompanied by the sound of many a gently stirred fondue in the homes of Islington this summer. Reviewed by mawders
I read somewhere that this album is the best rock record sice "Nevermind" by Nirvana. I presumed that that was simple journalistic hyperbole. I was right. But it's a decent album nonetheless. Singer Walter Schreifels used to head post-hardcore heroes Quicksand. Before that, he was in original straight-edgers Youth Of Today and Gorilla Biscuits. But this information is essentially unimportant, the music stands alone as a great rock 'n' roll record. Alas, it starts so poorly. "Travel By Telephone" is a misguided mess, all bog-standard guitar clichés hiding behind a monotonous barrage of wasteful noise. Strange that they should choose such a maligned track to open the album, as they follow it up with quite simply one of the best emo-pop records ever. "Everything Has It's Point" sums up in three minutes all that's right about guitar music in 2002. Short, angry, melodic, exciting, raw. Rival Schools are undoubtedly at their best on the more melodic tracks, the anthem in waiting "used For Glue", the glorious near-acoustic (yet still with enough energy to run a marathon) "Good Things" and the wondrously catchy "My Echo". All examples of perfection in rock music. Good enough, it would appear, to make it on "Nevermind". If that makes sense. It's not that the other tracks are strictly bad, indeed some of them almost match up to the highlights outlined above ("Undercovers On" is a particularly dreamy delight) but other tracks "The Switch" and "High Acetate" may be full of zest and speed, but sound tired and rehashed. Which is undoubtedly a shame, as a few lapses shouldn't spoil an otherwise landmark record. But they do. Alas. Reviewed by Joe COMET GAIN Realistes (Milou Studios) The most wonderful long-overcoat indie pop with that outsider’s sense of defiance, romance, depression, politics and day dreaming, plus enough passion that the songs almost trip over their own legs. It’s loud with an almost-live sound, all rough edges left intact. “The Kids at the Club” is a Go-Betweens vocal backed by a Jam-like take on Northern Soul, with a line into the chorus so catchy it’s like that feeling of elation and dizzyness at the end of an express lift ride. “Why I Try to Look So Bad” is a doomy pop song with a wondrous melody fused to a manically depressed lyric: “heaven is the closest thing to hell”. On “My Defiance” they produce a mighty Fall-type drum sound with Mark E Smith type vocals. “Ripped Up Suit” is another stunning big-sounding song with a powerful Stooges-sounding riff, lots of JAMC- type feedback and ex-Bikini Kill Kathleen Hanna screaming out the vocal. “She Never Understood” is the most classic indie sounding track on the album, extending the line from C86 to Britpop with the sort of song New Order would kill to own, in an super-harmonic and ultra melodic way. “Movies” is intellectually superior (“what’s your favourite Hitchcock?”), in a semi-pisstaking (I hope) sort of way (“all night Kings Cross, Scala...I’ll bring the speed, you bring the popcorn”). The album seems less overtly political than previous releases but the sleeve notes more than compensate, with their look of part-fanzine, part Paris ’68 call to arms manifesto. Comet Gain are the sort of doomed rebels that get bruised and beaten but have faith in their ultimate victory. Even if you don’t accept their fundamentalist manifesto, the songs are the best thing to drop off the indie tree in a long time. Reviewed by Ged HELEN LOVE Radio Hits 3 (Damaged Goods) For those not familiar with Helen Love, she’s the Queen of the electronic three chord riff. This Welsh cheesemeister is so fixated with the Ramones that she nicked their sound and looks and on about a third of the songs namedrops them too. But if she’d left it at that it would all have been way too obvious and she would have been banged up by the Rip-Off Inspectors. Fortunately she had the good sense to disguise her act under the false moustache of keyboards last used by Plastic Bertrand. Just like the Ramones every track has a deja ecoute feel to them even on first hearing but like her New York heroes this doesn’t matter as it’s a winning formula. This is about the fourth album she has produced, all of which are comps of her singles and unfortunately it’s also the first disappointing one. Additionally the better tracks (Does Your Heart Go Boom, Jump Up And Down, Shifty Disco Girl and Atomic Beat Boy) have all been released on her previous comp. The one goodie that’s new to an album, Long Live the UK Music Scene, is the funniest, proclaiming that Shed 7 are here to rescue us all. Great stuff but if you want an album by her I recommend you pick out any of its predecessors. Reviewed by mawders
This promised to be so good, a 16 track comp of one of the best live acts of the last twenty years captured in their prime in 1991, performing a sublime selection of their best numbers live in Switzerland. Unfortunately what you actually get is an appallingly recorded set, considerably worse than many of the bootlegs of the time. In particular, the numbers where Terry Woods replaces Shane on vocals are almost barely audible and although the sleeve notes are interesting the misspelling of Shane’s surname on the cover is unforgivable. A disappointing cheeky cash-in. Reviewed by mawders Chris T-T is a real indie artist, still working for the
Press Association, and this is his third album, named after a London bus route. He’s
had a lot of acclaim from The Sunday Times, Q and Time Out, and is a favourite of Steve
Lamacq. His voice reminds me of a less nerdy Jilted John singing offbeat, observational,
bittersweet songs about love, life, supermarkets, buses, and hedgehogs. ‘Ownership’, is an anti-materialist rocker with
added cornet. ‘Build a bridge, burn a bridge’ is where his quirky humour comes
in with Tony Robinson and the Time Team finding the Holy Grail. Things slow down for
‘Tendon #7’, essentially a love song that ends with jangly guitar; ‘The
English earth’ about getting away from ‘fools and smoke’ (‘we could be
something real if we really tried’), and ‘What if my heart never heals?’, a
guitar and vocal ballad of a doomed romance that shouldn’t have happened. Pace picks up for ‘Sellotape (Dawson’s
Creek)’ about being wasted the morning after a party and watching Sunday TV, and
‘Drink beer’ an anthem to booze (‘kids, stay in school, get a decent
education; you need a steady job to pay for lubrication’). For me the album tails off
here with a pointless instrumental and a trio of dreary songs including ‘The hedgehog
song’, a gloomy ballad about a hedgehog with its leg caught in a Coke can, bleeding
to death, and ‘The shape we’re in’ (kids being let down by parents,
teachers and government) with ‘fail to learn, learn to fail’ intoned over and
over. Chris T-T has a pretty depressing take on the world.
Lyrically he inhabits the same world as Difford/Tilbrook and Billy Bragg without the
politicism of the latter. He doesn’t seem to rate modern life and modern people much;
we’re too materialistic and under-achieving, we bring our kids up to expect failure,
even his bouncy paean to alcohol has the line ‘everybody searching for a reason to
continue, the world is less rubbish with a cold beer in you’. His answer (apart from
beer) is escape to the countryside. Even his hedgehog remembers the days of safe forests
and no motorways. But Chris T-T doesn’t rant or sermonise. There’s something
cosy about it all and you can imagine him writing these ditties sitting in an armchair
watching telly while his mum brings him a cup of tea and a biccy. Reviewed by Sleezy ECHO AND THE BUNNYMEN Live in Liverpool (Cooking Vinyl) Not as stated elsewhere the Bunnymen’s first Live in Liverpool album: their last ever gig in Liverpool with their first line up with Pete was recorded at Liverpool’s Empire Theatre for the BBC, which was released three years later in 1991. ‘Live in Liverpool’ was recorded at Paul McCartney’s LIPA (Liverpool Institute for the Performing Arts) last August over two nights. It was filmed as well and this is also on DVD with a few bonus tracks. It was a new venue for the Bunnymen and ideal because there was a recording studio right upstairs. The set that the band played was spot on and was a big improvement on past live sets which were more than a bit predictable; loyal fans would travel great distances to see the same live set but in a difficult building. The show only showcased four songs from their best album since ‘Ocean Rain’, the excellent ‘Flowers’ on Cooking Vinyl which, to me, is much underrated. These days, I’m glad to say, the band is more under the grip of Will Sergeant who writes most of the weird psychedelic lines that they have become famous for; all those years listening to the Residents have paid off. Most of this set plugs their new box set, the excellent ‘Crystal Days’ on Rhino. My favourite stand out track on this album is their live reading of “An Eternity Turns” from ‘Flowers’. The only thing to ask on this and the box set is there no live versions of the band’s encore number, the extended jam of “Do It Clean” which these days features The Doors’ “Roadhouse Blues”, as well as bits of the Stooges, Sinatra and the Cramps. The Bunnymen’s next London show is at the Shepherds Bush Empire on 8 May, and they also support New Order at Finsbury Park in June. The other news is that they are remastering ‘Ocean Rain’ for Rhino and will have their Gothenburg live set from ’85 released. See you soon boys. Reviewed by Tone |
