Dischord

VIDEO GAMES: Gotham City Impostors

2012-02-20T14:56:00.005Z

Gotham City Impostors may feel like an impostor in itself when compared to its older, bigger brother, 2011’s hands down Game of the Year: Batman – Arkham Asylum. Admittedly, comparison is unjust. Neither game share any development houses or publishers (Arkham City being developed by the team over Rocksteady Studios, and GCI by the tech wizards over at Monolith Productions), Arkham City is an open-world third-person single player experience, and Gotham City Impostor's a team based multiplayer only first person shooter.

They do however, occupy the same DC Comics inspired world. Although Gotham City Impostor’s universe is a decidedly alternate one, in which the caped crusader himself has deserted the city for reasons unbeknownst and left the safeguarding of the populous in the hands of a bunch of unequivocally crazy loons. From the off, the tone is tongue in cheek, with the game’s intro video featuring all manner of japes and funnies. It also brings along with it some of the ‘badditude’ that this downloadable game insists on carting around, with the lead character’s swears being unexplainably bleeped in a motion of self-censoring which only goes to highlight how gratuitous and unnecessary it all would have been uncut. Ultimately it leads to a confusingly skewed overall tone.

On to the game itself. The tutorial is a must if you want to play this game and not just get killed to bits from the off. It introduces you to some of the techniques and mechanics used to overcome your adversaries in the online skirmishes. It may feel a little daunting at first – it seems there are hundreds of moves to pull/weapons to master and they’re all assigned to the same few button presses – but after a few plays online it becomes easy enough, and the freedom to explore the maps in a variety of ways is genuinely exciting. The characters that guide you through this learning curve – much like the rest of the in game avatars – are highly unlikeable chaps and chapettes that will make you want to shoot sharp things into their faces until their heads gush claret like a leaky tap. They’re all bumbering fools you feel no sympathy for for having brought this all on themselves, jumping into a silly look costume to fight people in other silly costumes for no real gain. Fine when you need that extra competitive edge over your enemies – it gives you a little bit of extra rage to channel into the control pad – but it doesn’t make you feel for any of your fellow comrades.

The pace of the online multiplayer matches is surprisingly quick and offers a real buzz as you are blasting through the levels in a variety of game modes (Team Deathmatch, Fumigation, and Psych Warfare). The same cannot be said for the unnecessarily clunky matchmaking system in place which can plonk you on lobby screens for as long as three minutes at a time with not much to do. Sure, you spend that time reviewing your performance in the previous battle or choosing content to unlock, but sometimes, you just have to wait on a timer.

Overall, Gotham City Impostors is a fun little downloadable title that doesn’t take itself too seriously and provides just enough new thrills to keep players engaged. The matchmaking, tone and characters could do with a little work, but other than that it is a fairly exciting online experience.

Alex Nelson.

Gotham City Impostors.com

LIVE: Two Door Cinema Club + Metronomy + Tribes + Azealia Banks @ UEA, Norwich 17/02/2012

2012-02-19T19:28:00.004Z

Another year, another bill of hotly tipped acts fronting the NME’s annual musical jaunt ‘round the country in the form of the NME Awards Tour. Sure, noticeably absent from this year’s tour may be a band with the gusto of a hype fuelled ‘changing the face of guitar music’ media storm surrounding them (The Vaccines), or a genre crossover super group to introduce the crowds to something new (Magnetic Man), but it’s still enough to whip the evening’s young UEA LCR crowd into a frenzy.

We enter the main performance space of the UEA midway through rip-hopper Azealia Banks’ opening set, as she swears, racially slurs, and generally blasphemes her way all over the stage. It’s all ‘nigga kunts this’ and ‘nigga kunts that’ (spelt with a K on the official merchandise, assumedly in a transparent bid to loophole around some kind of obscenity law). It’s not big and it’s not clever, something the heaving Norwich crowd may want to consider before they fling themselves about to the pounding bass and steady beats provided by the energetic DJ, who is an admittedly talented chap as he segues seamlessly between Banks’ ‘hits’ and The Prodigy’s ‘Firestarter’ in a bold moment of PRS baiting insubordination.

For a band so dangerously inconsistent on record it’s nice to see Tribes put in the performance of the evening so early on. Their cocksure swagger with a generous dollop of grunge tinged twanglings propels itself live, and the band is tight and together throughout the half hour set. It’s only let down occasionally by the odd comprehensibly vapid lad rock chorus, but the Suede-alike resonance of the Britpop inspired ‘We Were Children’ or the awkward chord sequences of ‘Sappho’ prove themselves as worthy highlights.

Metronomy are up next, third on the bill in a move the promoters must be hoping cements this particular position on the bill as the ‘dance bit’ (no doubt a better name for it will come about) now that the famous opening slot boost has sort of fizzled out a bit over the last couple of years. Whereas last year’s Magnetic Man pummelled the crowd of the ‘dance bit’ with their laptop controlled bass cannons and synth wubs, Metronomy are unmistakeably a harder act to pigeonhole. Is it dance? Is it indie? Is it electronic? Is it guitar music? Well, whatever it is, it doesn’t really tickle our fancy. For all it’s pomping low end and chest adorned burglar resilient garden light majesty, Metronomy’s music is a music that has always seemed, well, a little boring to us. Sure, a couple of choice moments – namely the ungraceful synth lines of ‘A Thing For Me’ or the gentle key parps of ‘The Look’ – stand out, and the crowd goes understandably wild for EVERYTHING, but the four piece fail to get any of our body parts tapping along.

Headliners Two Door Cinema Club take to the stage in a hail of rapturous applause and incessant screaming. The Northern Ireland three piece rip into their set, laced with hit singles from their debut album, 2010’s Tourist History. The vocal acrobatics of ‘Something Good Can Work’, the guitar acrobats of ‘Undercover Martyn’, and the relative simplicity of ‘What You Know’ all whip the great unwashed into a veritable hysteria, and the band onstage seem to be genuinely grateful for the warm welcome they are receiving.

While we’d usually go for something a bit heavier, there is no denying the technicalities of the Two Door Cinema Club’s musicianship throughout their hour long set, and they deliver their sparkling pop gems without gimmicks or artifice. They even manage to slip in a couple of early airings of new tracks from an as yet untitled new album, which the crowd lap up as equally ferociously as any of the indie bangers on display tonight.

Alex Nelson.

Thanks to Amelia O'Shea at Dawbell.

Two Door Cinema Club.com

Metronomy.co.uk

Tribes Band.com

Azealia Banks.com

Today In Music: 14/02/2012

2012-02-14T18:26:00.005Z

The Cribs Announce More Album Details + Dates!

We over here at Dischord are practically giddy with excitement, as Wakefield’s finest grot rockets The Cribs continue to drip feed us tantalising new details about their forthcoming fifth album In The Belly Of The Brazen Bull out May 7^th on Wichita recordings.

Old man Marr is out, and we’ve been promised a return to the high-energy fun-punk of the first couple of records, and quite frankly, we can’t wait.

Today the brothers Jarman announced unto the world that they will be embarking on a six date UK tour in May of this year. Unfortunately (and somewhat strangely) the tour doesn’t cover Dischord’s hometown of Norwich just yet, but it does cover Eastbourne. We can only hope and pray that once these dates inevitably sell out in a flash – like their handful of dates coming up at the end of February – the band will see sense and announce some more dates to the tour. The dates announced so far are as follows:

Nottingham Rock City (May 7)
London Troxy (8)
O2 Academy Bristol (9)
Glasgow Barrowlands (11)
Manchester Academy (12)
Eastbourne Winter Gardens (13)

Along with the new dates, the band also released the track list to the upcoming album. There’s only so much you can read into track titles, but we had a damn good go at it anyway. We’re certainly excited to see what ‘Arena Rock Encore With Full Cast’ will bring to the table. Here is the full track listing:

'Glitters Like Gold'
'Come On Be A No-One'
'Jaded Youth'
'Anna'
'Confident Men'
'Uptight'
'Chi-Town'
'Pure O'
'Back To The Bolthole'
'I Should Have Helped'
'Stalagmites'
'Like A Gift Giver'
'Butterflies'
'Arena Rock Encore With Full Cast'

So come on Jarmans, hurry up and announce some more dates so Dischord can come and see you for the sixth time! There’s also rumour that there will be an airing of a new cut from the album coming up on tonight’s Zane Lowe show on Radio 1 at 1900 GMT. So, if you can sit through the overenthusiastic Kiwi’s inane drivel, you might just catch something worth listening to!

The Cribs.com

The Drums Treat Us To A Valentine's Gift

Ahh, it’s Valentine’s Day. You either love it, or you hate it. Well, you don’t so much hate IT, as hate the people who love and their sickeningly happy relationships. Damn them. Grrr…

One such group of people who do love it it seems are New Yorkers The Drums, who have recorded a special cover of The Ronnettes’ ‘classic’ ‘Do I Love You?’ for the occasion, and posted it up on their Facebook page for fans to grab for free and everything. Ain’t that nice?

Head over to their page, like them if you haven’t already, and get downloading!

The Drums.com

Jack White Unveils Video For 'Love Interruption'

And finally, Jack White has tried his best to spoil all of our days by releasing the video to his first solo song abomination ‘Love Interruption’. If you don’t want to sully the memories of the once great White Stripes, look away now. If you do, we won’t judge. No honestly, we won’t… (we will)

Jack White III.com

Alex Nelson.

FEATURE: Why The NME Can Still Be Relevant

2012-02-14T12:30:00.004Z

I was recently asked to answer the question "On a desert island, the pigeon post will bring only one publication each month. Which one would you choose and why?" as part of my interview prep for the Music Journalism degree I hope to be partaking in full this time next year. Here is what I jotted down...

---

With technology these days being cheap, easy to use and available to almost everyone – the printed world of music journalism is expanding almost as rapidly as its online counterparts. Magazines covering every aspect of musical entertainment, free ‘zines and pamphlets, and student music guides now litter the shelves of newsagents and music shops up and down the country, and so it is easy to fall into the trap of opting for something ‘obscure’, ‘niche’, or just plain and simply ‘cool’ when presented with a question like this. This is exactly why my choice, as achingly obvious and ‘uncool’ as it is, has to lie with the NME. Let me explain further…

NME is an institution. All over the UK (and, indeed, the world) people are well aware of what it is and does, and just exactly what it stands for. This goes for those out there who may not even be as tragically into their music as I, such is the influence that it commands on the shaping of the musical landscape.

Sure, musical ‘fluff’ pieces permeate the pages of the magazine and the website from time to time (I for one, don’t really care much for the myriad of out of context interview quotes they seem to base full pieces around), but a lot of the time, the publication hits the nail on the head with informative, relevant reviews, news and articles. Stranded on your desert island, you could be safe in the knowledge that NME was representing the musical landscape back home fairly accurately – as they more or less sculpt it in the first place.

Of course, you’d have to get over the cripplingly frustrating fact you’d have no personal access to the music being talked about within the magazine’s pages, and instead would have to assemble a rough adumbration of a band’s ‘sound’ based on the descriptions given.

I believe that, contrary to the popular belief that the internet is killing off print journalism, it is in fact doing the opposite, forcing publishers to seek out content of a much higher quality than that which can be found on any music fans blog. As such, while printed music journalism may not be as reactive or able to respond to emerging trends as quickly as the digital domains, its content can be found to be of a much higher stature; well written and researched, and therefore more trustworthy.

Alex Nelson.

NME.com

Today In Music: 10/02/2012

2012-02-10T16:57:00.007Z

Typical. You promise a new feature to the world called ‘Today In Music’, rounding up all of the days best news stories, with the hope it will become something of an mp3 roundup of the days hottest tracks, and on the first day, nothing much happens.

Yes, Dischord is afraid to say there will be no exclusive mp3 grabs in this, the first edition of ‘Today In Music’, seeing as nothing much really happened. Today is more of tour dates day it seems.

Tickets For Blood Red Shoes’ European Dates Go On Sale

In the first piece of ‘tickets go on sale today’ news we have the amazing two-piece disco grunge unit Blood Red Shoes, and the news that tickets to their recently announced Europe dates became available today at 10am CET.

Blood Red Shoes will hit the following European locales, and you really should do everything you can to get a ticket:

APRIL

11th - Alhambra, Paris FRANCE
12th - Aeronef club , Lille FRANCE
13th - Melkweg, Amsterdam NETHERLANDS
14th - Postbahnof, Berlin GERMANY
15th - Small Vega, Copenhagen DENMARK
17th - Blaa, Oslo NORWAY
18th - Lilla Hotelbaren, Stockholm SWEDEN
19th - Sticky Fingers, Gothenburg SWEDEN
21st - Vera, Groningen NETHERLANDS
22nd - Bibelot, Dordrecht NETHERLANDS

MAY

20th - Botanique: Les Nuits festival, Brussels BELGIUM
21st – Sputnikhalle, Muenster GERMANY
22nd – Batschkapp, Frankfurt GERMANY
24th - Docks, Hamburg GERMANY
26th - Conne Island, Leipzig GERMANY
29th - Gloria, Cologne GERMANY
30th - Plaza, Zurich SWITZERLAND
31st - Backstage Hall, Munich GERMANY

Announced alongside their UK tour (details of which can be found HERE), the band are touring in support of their third record, due out on March 26^th and titled In Time To Voices. We’re really excited about this release/these dates as Blood Red Shoes are one of our favourite bands, and you can be sure a glowing review will hit the pages of Dischord as soon as we can get our grubby mitts on a copy of the album.

Below you can listen to ‘Cold’, the first song to be taken from the upcoming album and shared with the world by the band themselves. It gives an exciting taste of things to come from the band, and personally we can’t wait!

Tickets for all the above dates can be found through Blood Red Shoes.co.uk

Best Coast Announce June UK Tour

News just in that the Los Angelese indie darlings that are Best Coast will be hitting the UK roads in June of this year! Again, we’re still not sure if even five dates constitutes a tour, but we’ll let you guys judge for yourself.

Bethany Cosention and Bobb Bruno will play:

O2 Glasgow ABC 2 (June 16)
Manchester HMV Ritz (17)
O2 Academy Birmingham (18)
O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire (20)
Brighton Coalition (21)

The band are currently putting the finishing touches to their as yet untitled Jon Brion produced second studio album, so you can expect to hear plenty of new material at these dates.

The dates will also mark the first time the band have hit the road together as a four piece, with Bethany and Bobb set to be joined by Rafe Mandel and Brett Mielke.

For tickets, hit up the usual online vendors, of track down the box offices of the venues you are interested in online.

For an exemplary piece of Best Coast action of yore, check out their video for the lovelorn summery classic of ‘Boyfriend’ below. Best Coasts' MySpace

Tickets For ‘Some Placebo Dates’ Go On Sale

Tickets for grungey glam-rock types Placebo’s upcoming UK ‘tour’ went on sale this morning at 9am GMT. We use the word ‘tour’ tentatively, because it’s only three dates, which amounts to no more than a ‘some shows’ in our book. Possibly a ‘weekend away’ if, indeed, it falls on one (a weekend). This particular tour is more like ‘two dates and a Saturday night out’. Or something.

Placebo will play Edinburgh HMV Picture House on April 25^th, Liverpool Olympia on the 26^th, and London IndigO2 on Saturday 28^th April.

The band have already announced that they have been working on the follow-up to their latest album, 2009’s monumental shrug of an album Battle For The Sun, and will begin recording tracks for the upcoming release in the next few months.

A clip of the band performing ‘Every Me Every You’ taken from their DVD We Come In Pieces released late last year, in which Brian Molko bizarrely leaves playing most of the song to his session musicians, can be seen below. The clip was filmed at London’s Brixton Academy when Placebo played there back in the September of 2010. Placebo World.co.uk

Is This The Most Relaxing Song Ever?

And finally, Manchester trio Marconi Union, claim to have teamed up with sound therapists to pen "the most relaxing song" of all time.

According to reports in the Daily Telegraph, the track is apparently so relaxing; scientists say it should not be listened to while driving. The ultimate aim of the project was to create a track which slows breathing and reduces brain activity.

In a study commissioned by shower gel and shampoo manufactures Radox, the track was then played to 40 women, alongside a host of other tracks and was deemed to be more relaxing than a bout of Enya, or even Mozart.

Lyz Cooper, founder of the British Academy of Sound Therapy, had this to say: "The song makes use of many musical principles that have been shown to individually have a calming effect. By combining these elements in the way Marconi Union have has created the perfect relaxing song. The study found this to be the world's most relaxing song."

She added: "It is important that the song is eight minutes long because it takes about five minutes for this process, known as entrainment, to occur. The gaps between notes - have been chosen to create a feeling of euphoria and comfort. And there is no repeating melody, which allows your brain to completely switch off. Instead, there are random chimes, which helps to induce a deeper sense of relaxation. The final element is the low, whooshing sounds and hums that are like buddhist chants."

According to the study, the top ten most relaxing tracks are as follows:

1. Marconi Union – 'Weightless'
2. Airstream – 'Electra'
3. DJ Shah – 'Mellomaniac' (Chill Out Mix)
4. Enya – 'Watermark'
5. Coldplay – 'Strawberry Swing'
6. Barcelona – 'Please Don't Go'
7. All Saints – 'Pure Shores'
8. Adele - Someone Like You
9. Mozart - Canzonetta Sull'aria
10. Cafe Del Mar - We Can Fly

You can hear the eight-minute track for yourself by checking out the video below.

We actually listened to this while working on today’s review of A Place To Bury Stranger’s new EP Onwards To The Wall, and we found our heads surprisingly clear and the flow of words surprisingly, erm, ‘flowy’. Looks like we could do with that track now.

Alex Nelson.

EP: A Place To Bury Strangers - Onwards To The Wall

2012-02-10T13:43:00.002Z

A Place To Bury Strangers like it loud. Very loud. Indeed, booting up the Onwards To The Wall EP (the eighth from the New York based noise rock group in almost as many years) on my trusty Blackberry, my head nearly imploded from the sine waves throttling themselves down my ear canals. A panicked fumble with the volume controls soon brought things down to a more pleasant, more manageable level, but I should’ve learned by now; A Place To Bury Strangers max everything out in the mix, and then master it LOUD.

A Place To Bury Strangers have been channelling their sporadic shoegaze influenced squall on us for nearly six years now. Through their live shows the band greet crowds of punters with scenes of strobe light mentalism, distortion so crisp it threatens to cripple your thought processes for ever, and ear splitting volume. On record it’s a case of fragmented drum machine beats, washy vocals and maxed out guitars. All in all it makes for a very sensually intensive experience.

Onwards To The Wall is no different. Their first non-single release since 2010’s I Lived My Life To Stand In The Shadow Of Your Heart EP, this EP presents the listener with five distinct tracks from A Place To Bury Stranger’s recent history. Opening with ‘I Lost You’ and its sluggish fuzz-bass, rattling snares and pulsating guitar discoloration, the following fifteen minutes are a rollercoaster ride of noisy guitar abuse and psych rock abandon. That first track explodes into an outro of rambunctious guitar yaw ricochets, before segueing into the EP’s lead-off single ‘So Far Away’ and the pairing of its unashamed vocal pinching of the funereal vocal lines from Sonic Youth’s ‘Death Valley ‘69’, rhythmic drum hits and ghostly guitar wobbles.

‘It’ll Be Alright’ provides us a brief respite from the assaultive guitar attack with its subdued processed drum beats and warm bass structure, before the EP dumps us head first into the aural aggression of the screeching feedback whine and palpating rhythms of EP closer ‘Drill It Up’.

Although a highly enjoyable fifteen minutes of EP, Onwards To The Wall is fairly standard My Bloody Valentine meets The Jesus And Mary Chain fare for the A Place To Bury Strangers boys. You’ve got the ferocious volume – impressively captured on record – the spontaneous blasts of noise, and the reverb burdened vocals to contend with, as you may have expected from the band. Still, give it a go. It’s certainly worth fifteen minutes of your time. Just remember to turn your speakers down BEFORE you hit play.

Alex Nelson.

A Place To Bury Strangers.com

The Hysterical Injury + The Broken Seas @ Olive's, Norwich 04/02/2012

2012-02-06T19:35:00.005Z

The Divine Hammer – Norwich’s spunky new(ish) DIY radio show, available to hear on the city’s Future Radio station every other week – host their monthly gig night for February, and give Norwich the chance to catch the saturnine blues thumpers of The Broken Seas, and the frizzy bass clatter of Bristol noise-duo, The Hysterical Injury.

Truth be told, this is the third – perhaps even fourth – time I’ve seen The Broken Seas live. That being said, it is the first time I’ve seen them without being twoshed off my face on malty lager, and so the first time I can cast my judgemental eye and actually, y’know, ‘remember’ it. Their moody blues rock stompers go down a turbulent treat thanks to guitarist Matt Hi’s novel two amp set-up which, despite a few unavoidable technical hitches mid-set, blares out his powerful riffs as he shivers along with rhythm.

Ever more memorable than that though, are Bristol’s The Hysterical Injury. Coming onstage after a last minute panic (with bassist and vocalist Annie Gardiner dropping her instrument to the floor, only to displace the internal wiring with devastating effect, leading for the need for some actual DIY as bar staff come to the rescue with an assortment of ill fitting screwdrivers), the two piece launch into their shrieking noise barrage of a set. The instrumentation is impressive. An array of pedals take the lone bass sounds to an unrecognisable level, and really help to fill out the sound beyond the usual capabilities of a two-piece. You get the impression that with the level of technical skill on offer here from both Annie and her brother in music (and real life) drummer Tom Gardiner, they could’ve easily have honed their craft on more ‘traditional’ music, but admirably chose to pursue what they love to do best. And that’s make a bloody wonderful racket.

Another mighty night for The Divine Hammer and their musical wares (it also didn’t hurt that this reviewer was spinning shoegaze between bands). Onwards to March’s offering!

Alex Nelson.

The Hysterical Injury's MySpace

The Broken Sea's Facebook

You can catch The Divine Hammer radio show, bi-weekly on Monday nights on FUTURE RADIO

NEWS: The Kabeedies - 'Soap' and UK Tour

2012-01-25T19:07:00.002Z

It’s been a pretty busy week for Norwich’s very own Kabeedies.

FIRSTLY, they released their second album, Soap, on lovely li’l indie label Fierce Panda on Monday 23^rd January. Now, being chums with the guys I couldn’t possible pass comment in the public forum, not even on the good bits, because I’d probably get them ‘wrong’. But needless to say, it is all rather good and lovely and sees the band taking a more diverse and cultivated approach to their sound, fusing hints of afro-beat and a more relaxed way of thinking to their typically high octane songs.

Current Dischord highlight is the weirdy folky almost-not-even-a-proper-song-but-that-makes-it-good ‘Underfloor Lover’, but the album also includes past single ‘Come Out Of The Blue’, and wonder hit in the making ‘Eyes’ (scroll down to see the wonderfully high concept video, produced by Norwich’s own Spindle Films), as well as all sorts of other surprising treasures.

A helpful link to download the album can be found right HERE!

SECONDLY, the guys embark on their first tour of the year TONIGHT (25^th January), in support of the new record. Taking in a first stop of Chelmsford’s Bitterscene venue, the twenty date tour (!) will see the group taking in the length and breadth of the UK, including some brand new stops (Porth, anyone?). Dates at Mother’s Ruin in Bristol (I’m told they’re always amazingly mental and memorable there) and the obligatory but still amazingly welcome homecoming date at the Norwich Waterfront are sure to be chaotic, but be sure to head down to catch the guys if and where you can (and even if you really can’t).

Expect a Dischord review of the Norwich Waterfront show soon after the 24^th February! Until then, go Kabeedies go!

Alex Nelson.

The Kabeedies' MySpace

LIVE: The Horrors + The History Of Apple Pie @ Waterfront, Norwich 22/01/2012

2012-01-24T11:09:00.004Z

Tonight’s gig has been a few months in the making. Originally scheduled for an October 2011 date that was cancelled in favour of a high profile slot on Jools Holland’s ‘Later…’ and moved to December, only to be cancelled again in favour of Faris Badwan’s vocal cords, it finally found a more concrete position on 22^nd January 2012, so expectation is high.

Change has been a big part of the Horrors canon of late, with the band seemingly eschewing the garagey (and arguably better, in this reviewer’s eyes anyway) noise-chaos of the goth-punk roots of 2007’s Strange House, for the Krautrock enthused soundscapes of 2009’s Primary Colours, and the trippy dance leanings of latest release, 2011’s Skying.

Also, the original support act Toy have now been replaced by The History Of Apple Pie, a welcome surprise for fans of the band’s Radiohead meets lo-fi indie-pop shtick, although the set is marred slightly by poor sound and the lead singer’s distinct lack of enthusiasm. Tenuous, I know, but it’s a ‘change’ all the same…

Indeed, there’s not the banshee wailing or hanging from the Waterfront rafters like some kind of demonic bat that made The Horrors first appearance at the Norwich venue so memorable (although, at least Faris does remember it, quipping mid-gig “I see they’ve removed the bar that used to be on the ceiling there”), and the set is predictably void of any material from the first album. Instead, where there was once relentless strobe lighting and pandemonium, there is now soft illumination, and tunes to match.

Yes, The Horrors may be an entirely different beast to the band they were four or five years ago, but while they had their fun with their debut album, it is good to see the band expressing their true musicianship with such confidence and taking an entirely more mature attitude to their craft, winning the hearts and minds of fans and critics alike.

Live, the music of those latest two albums is even more formidable, and really finds its footing in the gig setting. Josh Hayward still rips at his guitar in a flailing mass of wild hair, pealing all manner of genuinely indescribable sounds from his guitar by way of an extensive board of custom pedals on tracks like ‘Mirror’s Image’ and ‘Three Decades’, which swells with organ underneath its accelerated drumbeat. The band opt to close the main section of their set with arguably the two most famous tracks from their latest two albums, the steady motorik of ‘Sea Within A Sea’, and the ethereal wash of ‘Still Life’, Faris’ vocals sounding masterfully ghostly and atmospheric on each, as he trades in the windmilling limbs of old for a more considered rhythmic swagger.

They return to the stage for an extended encore and launch into highlight of the evening, the fuzz-bass ridden ‘Who Can Say’, and a few more choice cuts from the last two albums, before slinking off into the darkness to presumably plan just what it is they’re going to do next.

Whatever comes next for The Horrors, you can sure it will be surprising and brilliant in equal measure.

Alex Nelson.

The Horrors.co.uk

Photo by Tom Martin/NME

ALBUM: Pulled Apart By Horses - Tough Love

2012-01-23T20:59:00.003Z

LANDFILL JOURNALISM ALERT! ‘The difficult second album’. Eurgh. There. I said it. I feel so lazy. Can we just move on now?

Well, no we can’t. Yes, it may be a poor excuse for actual critical thinking, but it’s a cliché for a reason. Sophomore releases will always be compared to the blinding (or not so blinding in some cases) debut releases that came before them but, being mostly void of that ‘new band smell/hype/excitement’ those debuts were drenched in, tend to not come off too well when standing next to their musical older brothers. Comparison is the thief of joy, but it has to be done.

So, it falls to shouty-shouty post-rock types Pulled Apart By Horses to rise to the challenge. And are they scared? Are they ‘eck!

Tough Love opens promisingly enough with lead track and single ‘V.E.N.O.M’, a rousing call to arms and a perfect bridge from the Pulled Apart By Horses of old, to the more considered approach of the new. Sorry, did I say considered approach? Yes, some of the songs on the album sound a helluva lot more thoughtful than those of the first record, but this is still a release full of bombastic riffage and larynx shredding vocal delivery, that never takes itself too seriously. ‘You haven’t got the balls’ screams lead singer Tom Hudson on that first song, almost unintelligibly (indeed, that lyrical sample may not be 100% correct) yet in a way that is far too catchy for its tongue in cheek subject matter. Midway through the song, the tempo comes crashing to some half-step heaviness, and we’re treated to the first proper riff storm of the album.

The second track comes in the form of ‘Wolf Hands’. Dischord’s current album highlight, the song carries that same ‘never say die’ attitude with aplomb, as Hudson tears words like ‘when I was a kid I was a dick, but nothing changes’ from the deepest darkest recesses of his chest cavity. The off-kilter chorus provides a haunting yet once again strangely catchy main crux for the band to wrap their quick fire guitars and pounding drum beats around. Haunting is perhaps a fitting word too, with most of the tracks on the album seemingly taking their cues from obscure 70s horror movies.

It is unfortunate then that a band as promising and full of life and energy as Pulled Apart By Horses can appear to have succumbed to the constraints of second album life. This is not an entirely bad album, but it doesn’t have the same immediacy or grab as that 2010 debut release. Some tracks – namely mid-album ironic zombie-fest ‘Night Of The Living (I’m Scared Of People)’ and the chords-and-screaming firecracker of ‘Some Mothers’ – feel bereft of the high octane energy we’ve come to admire from the band. Add to this the fact they seem to be playing up to their tongue in cheek image, and you’re left with a bunch of songs towards the end of the album that veer dangerously close to self-parody; the hair metal ‘hey heys’ of ‘Bromance Ain’t Dead’, or the chugging Nirvana aping guitars and macho chants of ‘Give Me A Reason’.

In Tough Love, Pulled Apart By Horses have found themselves to be the latest casualties of ‘the difficult second album’ (there, I said it again!). They must be commended for chucking their all at the damn thing though, and their incendiary live shows are sure to continue to light up the country as they travel up and down it in a couple of weeks time to support the record. We can only hope that this album proves to be something of a grower. But even as it stands, it is still leagues ahead than some of the dreary indie-fluff populating the record collections of music fans the length and breadth of Britain and beyond. Well worth a listen, sure, but just don’t expect the bite and good times of that first album from the off.

Alex Nelson.

Pulled Apart By Horses.com

ALBUM: The Maccabees - Given To The Wild

2012-01-17T10:52:00.003Z

These days it’s chichi to be chilled. That is to say, taking the weight off your feet and forgetting the every day strains of the world as it collapses around you is very much the in thing, and music reflects that. Whether it’s your chillwaves, your post-dubsteps, or your afro-beat-deep-house-jazz-fusion-things, the trendiest trends in music at the moment tend to be very much of a low tempo, subtly lolloping along in the background as you sit down with a stiff drink and forlornly attempt to de-stress.

The Maccabees are the latest band to follow suit. Gone are the rapid fire hi-hats and strained Orlando Weeks vocals about swimming pools or thumbs (or whatever it was) of the first album; 2007’s Colour It In. Also gone is the brooding malice (which often erupted into a flurry of rapid fire hi-hats and strained Orlando Weeks vocals about lions or dinosaurs or hands or… something) of second album wonder Wall Of Arms, released in 2009, when obviously nobody in music gave the tiniest shit about anything else, and didn’t think twice about letting loose and going mental. Well, you can’t be doing that anymore, times have changed.

Instead, The Maccabees’ third effort, Given To The Wild, is an on the whole more sombre affair, perhaps a sign of a new found maturity, perhaps a sign that everyone’s third effort these days tends to be a more sombre affair. Who knows?

That’s not to say it’s particularly worse off than those first two albums, and the album is a formidably realised piece of work. From the off, ‘Given To The Wild (Intro)’ and its companion track FTN1212 (more commonly known as ‘Child’) gives us a good idea of the more relaxed groove the London born quintet have found themselves in, laden with thick basslines and brass flourishes. The softly chirped lyrics of ‘Feel To Follow’ kick off a track that builds in timbre from the off, and the riotous guitar stabs of lead single ‘Pelican’ perhaps hint closest to The Maccabees of old. The shimmering piano (PIANO!) lines of ‘Ayla’ stick out like a sore fumb until a typically subtle Maccabees guitar highlight peeks out from behind the track. ‘Went Away’ sounds like Vampire Weekend giving the reverb guitars of U2 a cuddle (and NOT in a good way), and provides a rare yet significant lowlight to the album, before normal service is resumed once more in the unlikely standout track of the half-tempo, off-beat glitch-step chiller ‘Go’, all processed drums and leaky faucet guitars (you’ll understand when you here it).

All together, Given To The Wild’s not a bad little album. While it might not stand up to the band’s first two full length releases or carry the good time rush of those albums, it’s an intriguing listen and a nice glimpse into a bad who continue to evolve, for better or worse.

Now, I’m off to file my tax returns and sob into a mug of whisky. Such is life.

Alex Nelson.

The Maccabees.co.uk

ALBUM: The Big Pink - Future This

2012-01-11T11:19:00.002Z

Back in deepest, darkest 2009, The Big Pink released their debut album – A Brief History Of Love – unto the world. They quickly became the poster boys for hazy, shoegaze tinged, Jesus And Mary Chain hued, electronica ridden noise-rock (if you can imagine such a thing), and were one of those hype bands that were actually, y’know, a little different from the Topshop flouting angular guitar bands and, y’know, actually OK to, y’know, like!

After a pretty successful year soaking up some of the world’s most prestigious festival slots, it went kinda quiet on the ‘Pink front for a while, but now the London birthed duo of Robbie Furze and Milo Cordell are back on the scene with their second album, the lushly realised Future This (or, as I like to type it like a bizarre one-liner zinger to accompany a hero’s punch in a bad movie; Future THIS!).

Opening with the now instantly recognisable lead single of ‘Stay Gold’ – which has already proven itself as ‘up there’ with hits of summer’s past such as the band’s catchy-yet-weirdly-crossover festival anthem ‘Dominoes’ (songs tend to do that when the chorus is just the title shouted repeatedly) – the album is a miasma of melodic moments awash with discharges of discernable discordance. Much like that first album, the tracks veer from out-and-out fuzz bangers (like the aforementioned ‘Stay Gold’), to much more considered numbers that retain that trademark turbulence yet make a good go of melody, such as late album guitar slinger ‘Lose Your Mind’.

The album occasionally trips over its own ambitiousness, and the plethora of genres tackled – albeit briefly – on the record (despite Furze’s own retraction of a comment he made in the NME about the album being of a ‘strong hip-hop influence’) sometimes fall flat of the mark. Despite the nullifaction of that above statement, there are plenty of hip-hop infused beats on offer here, often coupled with glitchy electronics – that I guess would elevate the music to ‘trip-hop’ – a few breaks of post-dubstep style percussion, and even something that resembles a 90s Britpop/dance-rock crossover of sorts (‘Jump Music’). But it all maintains that Big Pink feel, and Robbie Furze’s fuzzy guitar lines are ever present in the mix.

Highlight of the album comes in the form of five-minute jammer ‘Hit The Ground (Superman)’ which lollops along nicely, fuggy chords complimenting the electronically mangled organ stabs of Milo Cordell and the charmingly awkward vocal refrain of the chorus.

It drags ever so slightly towards the end, but for the most part Future This is refreshingly different and attempting something new whilst retaining all the hallmarks of The Big Pink’s sound. It’s not as guitar heavy or lively as that debut album, and while some fans may resent that, when judging the album on its own merits, it’s a consistent package which makes for a hugely enjoyable listen. Expect so see the boys lighting up festival stages once more this summer. Future That.

Alex Nelson.

Music From The Big Pink.com

ALBUM: Prinzhorn Dance School - Clay Class

2012-01-05T14:29:00.002Z

When Prinzhorn Dance School released their first album, a self-titled little number back in 2007, half of the music loving populous got it (they really got it), and the other half, not so much. Indeed, a Guardian review famously gave that original record two different star ratings (it says here), to take depending on your previous musical experiences, whereas The Sunday Telegraph famously – and perhaps surprisingly for a band so under the radar - chose to include the album in their ‘Best Albums of All Time’ countdown list. Prinzhorn Dance School were initially a difficult band to get your head around; famously the first UK band to sign to New York based record label DFA, you would have been forgiven for expecting a rousing albums-worth of indie-disco tunes ala The Rapture or LCD Soundsystem. But no.

The artistic duo of Tobin Prinz and Suzi Horn created a down tempo, minimalist affair, making use of nothing more than their voices, a simple drum kit, a bass, and some sparse guitars. The off-kilter rhythms and simple bass lines managed to be abrasive but not noisy, the lyrics of Prinz managed to be surreal yet socially aware at the same time, and the two-piece remained artistic and ambitious yet refreshingly simple. Famous, yet practically perverse.

The second album from the Brighton and Portsmouth based duo, Clay Class takes that initially hard to pin down formula, and injects a little bit more colour in there. You might not notice at first, but look closer, it’s not just in the track titles. The punchy percussion of ‘The Flora And Fauna Of Britain In Bloom’ adds a subtly lively lollop to the otherwise dryly delivered ditty, ‘comeback’ single ‘Seed, Crop, Harvest’ –despite Prinz announcing ‘we’re going half speed/no stamina’ – sounds positively lightning quick compared to the stomping stride of that first record, and the choppy guitars of ‘Turn Up The Lights’ almost elevate the track to something you can dance to. Gosh!

Indeed, Tobin Prinz’s guitars feature much more heavily than they ever did on the first album. But don’t get me wrong, there’s no grandiose guitar soloing, extended feedback jams or abounding chord sequences, there’s simply more in quantity of those awkwardly off-beat guitar lines we grew to love the first time around. Where Suzi Horn’s bass was the driving force of the band back in 2007, it now feels more like both instruments have an equal control over the ascendant abrasion, the spiky lead lines of ‘Usurper’ being a fine example.

The chiming opening chords and pounding beat of ‘I Want You’ provide perhaps the closest resemblance to a pop song across the eleven tracks on offer here, and the galloping drum beat and scratchy muted guitars of ‘Your Fire Has Gone Out’ provide the only musical comparison by way of a lazy Gang Of Four one…

If you hated the first album, you will hate Clay Class. But fans of that first album will lap this one up, and that’s just the way it is. You either get it or you don’t. It’s either five stars, or it’s one. It’s good to have a start-stop.

Prinzhorn Dance School. Brilliant. Bleak.

Alex Nelson.

Prinzhorn Dance School.com

Albums of the Year 2011: THE VACCINES - WHAT DID YOU EXPECT FROM THE VACCINES?

2011-12-27T15:21:00.003Z

OK, I admit it. Including The Vaccines in an albums of the year list isn’t exactly the ‘coolest’ of moves, what with them being the current indie darhlinks of the hype machine and all the rest of it. But what exactly is wrong with liking an album that carries itself headstrong on its effortless simplicity, catchy song writing, and near perfect track listing?

Let’s get one thing straight right away though; The Vaccines are one of the most hit and miss bands you will ever come across in the live settings, and are certainly not the supposed ‘saviours of guitar music’ they were destined to be about twelve months ago. They rarely ever cut it onstage: an opening slot on the prestigious NME Awards Tour at Norwich UEA? Okay. Mid-evening slot on the second stage of Latitude Festival? Worst band of the weekend. A headline show five months later, back at the UEA in support of their album? Outstanding. An appearance on the Top of the Pops Christmas special. Usurped by Example of all people. See what I mean?

Live, their lackadaisical swagger fails to excite any feelings of joy in me for the most part (although the more recent of the above two UEA performances was one of my gigs of the year – more on that in a later post), Justin Young’s mainly monotonous voice only serves to stir up feelings of abstracted disinterest, and the fact you are regularly kicked in the face by crowdsurfing fourteen year-olds doesn’t help either.

But on record, any allegations of ‘lack of passion’ are more than made up for by some genuinely brilliant catchy tunes. The vivaciously luckless paean to mistakes of ‘Post Break-Up Sex’ – all Ramones-esque three chord simplicity and vocal range testing melodies – the million mile-an-hour guitar stabs of ‘Wolf Pack’, and the blithely joyous crescendos of ‘All In White’ (which actually provided possible THE live moment of the year back at that UEA gig).

Throw into this the fact that Justin Young’s lyrics seem remarkably self-conscious, and seem to point to a genuine concern towards the speed and hurry with which the band have gained their now ravenous fame (although he has since rubbished most of them as ‘nonsense’ in interviews), and you have one of the guilty pleasure records of the year.

Alex Nelson.

The Vaccines.co.uk

Albums of the Year 2011: THURSTON MOORE - DEMOLISHED THOUGHTS

2011-12-27T14:44:00.004Z

What sort of Dischord end of year music list would be complete without the inclusion of SOMETHING that was related to the almighty Sonic Youth? No, seriously. What would? Exactly.

Demolished Thoughts was Thurston Moore’s third (or fourth if you’re including 1998’s Root noise-mashup album… or fifth if you’re just plainly counting it all wrong) ‘proper’ solo album with ‘proper’ songs and stuff.

And what ‘proper’ songs they were. Gone were the scratchy guitars and riff-rock finery of Psychic Hearts, and gone were the mid-tempo acousto-fuzz breaks of Trees Outside The Academy, replaced instead with pure, blissed out psyche-folk. It may not have grabbed everyone’s attention first time round, and even some hardcore ‘Youth fans have denounced its placid tranquillity, but when it comes down to it, these are typical songs played by the Thurston Moore we know and love, just stripped back on an acoustic guitar.

Sure, a few tracks could’ve used a steady Steve Shelley motorik beat to propel them to something great, but producer Beck managed to prove – on tracks like ‘Circulation’ and ‘Orchard Street’ – that he could draw out the same ol’ discordant skronk from his clients using nothing more than a 12-string… and a few harps.

Alex Nelson.

Sonic Youth.com

Albums of the Year 2011: YUCK - YUCK

2011-12-21T10:22:00.005Z

In comparison to years gone by, 2011 has been a bit of a drab year for AWESOME RADICAL TOTALLY AWESOME music releases, which may go some way to explaining why internationally cobbled awkward boredom pushers Yuck make their way into the top ten LPs list. Just.

After a successful marketing campaign which gloated on about everyone else’s super-great band more than their own, Yuck’s debut was met with mild disappointment and a wild sense of ‘averageness’ upon release. Sure, it didn’t carry the sheer quality of the bands mentioned at length in interviews and press releases (Sonic Youth, Pavement et al), but once over that fact it became apparent there was a good few songs on there in Yuck’s own ilk.

‘Holing Out’ perhaps showcased the four-piece’s fondness for sunshine guitar chords and lo-fi wah squall, and final act instrumental ‘Rose Gives A Lilly’ DID sound a lot like Sonic Youth. Yuck proved they could fairly successfully tackle their softer side too, and a smattering of songs such as ‘Stutter’ (which could easily have been written by Stephen Malkmus at the height of Pavement’s Terror Twilight fame), and the downright beautiful ‘Shook Down’ with its sentimental lead-guitar bursting close (‘you could be my destiny/you could mean that much to me’), may have taken longer to fully ‘get’ and alienated the noiseniks, but once there it was apparent Yuck could hold a tune.

The live performances may have left something to be desired – perhaps a little movement onstage or some actual enthusiasm? – but despite its inability to deliver on its promises, Yuck’s debut was still something to cherish. After a few listens of course.

Alex Nelson.

Yuck's MySpace

LIVE: Superchunk + Let's Wrestle @ Scala, London 01/12/2011

2011-12-07T21:12:00.003Z

Superchunk hasn’t played in the UK for ten years tonight, so the expectation is high. This is made all the more apparent by the dozens of fans that barge their way past this reviewer in his carefully considered vantage point atop the stairs leading down to the main dancing pit of London’s Scala venue. And this is all before opening act Let’s Wrestle has treated the crowd to their brand of shuffling lo-fi indie pop.

It’s easy to see why this London four-piece have been picked to support the ‘Chunk on this most one off of dates. The whimsical chord progressions are all there, the kitchen sink vocals delivered with a hint of romantic irony; comparisons are certainly due. But the band’s timid conveyance of their music fails to carry any punch, and the performance lacks a certain spark and coherence. That they’ve chosen to debut almost a set’s worth of new material on the unsuspecting crowd probably doesn’t help, but Let’s Wrestle have never been the most exciting of live bands.

Finally, it’s the moment everyone’s been waiting for, and as the handle on the stage side door twitches before revealing the Chapel Hill four piece of Superchunk, the crowd goes wild. ‘You’ve waited ten years for this, what’s a couple more minutes of fucking around?’ stumbles lead singer Mac, struggling with a guitar strap before launching into set opener ‘Throwing Things’ from 1991’s No Pocky For Kitty album. From the off Mac launches himself around the stage to every power chord like a care-free teenager practising his ‘rock moves’. Bassist Laura Balance pounds at her instrument in the corner, while drummer Jon Wurster grins and smiles his way through this most enjoyable of sets, and guitarist Jim Wilbur keeps calm stage right.

It’s hard to forget the band are pushing their mid-forties as each song sounds more youthful in its alt. guitar-pop sensibilities than the last, branching through a long and varied career of hits. Perhaps somewhat surprisingly, tracks aired from latest album Majesty Shredding get some of the biggest cheers of the night, and songs such as ‘My Gap Feels Weird’ and ‘Crossed Wires’ sit well against old favourites such as ‘Like A Fool’ and ‘Driveway To Driveway’.

By the time Mac is screaming ‘I think I’m hyper enough as it is’ during the band’s first encore, the crowd has swelled to a throbbing throng of crowd surfing bodies and pogoing revellers (and it’s obvious the singer may not be quite to the peak of his hyperactivity yet). Mac joins in on the antics, widdling his way through the solo of ‘Cast Iron’ whilst being held aloft by fans after an impromptu dive into the mosh. ‘As long as you couldn’t see the fear on my face’ he later tweets after the gig.

The fun filled gig comes to an end after a good hour and a half of riotous amusement, and we’re left with the chants of ‘Slack Motherfucker’ ringing in our ears. Let’s hope it’s not another ten years before they visit us again, eh?

Alex Nelson.

Superchunk.com

LIVE: The Vaccines + Frankie & The Heartstrings @ UEA, Norwich 30/11/2011

2011-12-06T20:03:00.004Z

The UEA crowd are baying for blood. After some truly uninspiring opening sets from unexplainably-on-the-radar indie types Howler, and Sunderland’s answer to Dexy’s Midnight Runners, Frankie & The Heartstrings (whose main instrument seems to be the lead singer’s oh-so flicky hair), the swelling throng are on tenterhooks to see this year’s fastest rising band, The Vaccines.

Justin Young and his band saunter onstage and launch immediately into the slack jawed guitar yaw of ‘Blow It Up’ to an explosion of rapturous applause. The audience crammed into UEA’s sold out LCR performance room respond in a detonation of waves of movement. The quick fire, scatter-brained chants of ‘Wreckin’ Bar (Ra Ra Ra)’ follow next, and it quickly becomes clear to see that The Vaccines brand of straight up, fuzzy rock ‘n’ roll wouldn’t seem out of places in the record collections of fans of contemporary bands like Wavves and Black Lips.

Sure, the hipsters would be clamouring for this shit were it not for the media’s tendency to over commendate the four piece over the previous twelve months. I’m sure the band themselves don’t mind, for they still have a rabid crowd in front of them lapping up every line of Justin’s meandering vocals, and tonight’s gig no doubt replicates scenes they’ve been seeing for the majority of their performances.

Yes, The Vaccines have risen quicker than anyone could’ve expected this year. Thanks mostly in part to a world of hyperbole fuelled media spin, but also helped by the fact that their debut album, What Did You Expect From The Vaccines? – released in March of this year – is really quite good once you give it a few listens. Sure, it’s simple guitar pop at its purest, but sometimes, something straight to the point and easy to digest is just what the doctor ordered.

Whatever you think of the band, you can’t ignore their meteoric rise to fame, which has sometimes outpaced the group in terms of progression and experience. Earlier in the year they were on first on the NME Awards Tour, propping up the bill for Canadian electro punkers Crystal Castles. Back then, the band seemed uneasy and uncomfortable with their early exposure to such mass appreciation. A crammed early evening tent at this Latitude festival seemed down right unfair for such a young band, and they actually put in one of the low point performances of the weekend.

But tonight, the 1,500 capacity UEA – even thought it’s sold out – feels just about right for the band at this stage, and in this day and age of social media and hype machines, it’s not unspeakable for any young band to do the same after just a year or so on the circuit.

The band play well throughout, and the sound is impeccable. As the die-hards scream back the words in a defiant multitude, Justin croons ‘if at some point we all succumb/for goodness sake yet us be young’ on ‘Wetsuit’; perhaps referring to a ‘it’s better to burn out than to fade away’ mentality for The Vaccines. The highlight of the night comes in the form of the rabble rousing ‘All In White’, which seems to build in ambition with every verse as guitars swell and vocals are belted. The majority of the crowd raise their arms aloft and pelt lyrics back towards the stage in a truly memorable moment.

After a short and sweet time on stage, the band retreat to the darkness, before returning for a kick-in-the-face encore in the form of the cheekily self-referential three-chord majesty of b-side ‘We’re Happening’, and the slighty creepy 17 year old baiting, fashion world namedropping of ‘Norgaard’.

What did I expect from The Vaccines? Nothing as good as this for sure, but the band put in a tight and taut performance of their already impressive back catalogue of squat and spiky guitar pop. That it doesn’t innovate isn’t a problem. When it’s this much fun it doesn’t matter.

Alex Nelson.

The Vaccines.co.uk

Photo by Ben Wormald

ALBUM: KoЯn - The Path Of Totality

2011-12-05T09:43:00.003Z

KoЯn have always had a few of the distinct hallmarks of Dubstep music. Heck, even sweary lead mic-wrangler Jonathon Davis went so far as to admit "we were dubstep before there was dubstep,” in a recent NME interview. “Tempos at 140 with half-time drums, huge bassed-out riffs. We used to bring out 120 subwoofers and line them across the whole front of the stage, 60 subs per side. We were all about the bass."

With recent additions to the burgeoning dubstep canon as it impedes on US grounds such as Skrillex and Deadmau5’s ‘Mau5tep’ label giving the genre a heavier, more metal inspired edge, it seems only right that the two genres would someday meet and share a brewski or too. That it might produce a full-length album, and not just a one off novelty EP, may seem a step too far to some, but in and around some of the god-awful tracks (the wall-of-noise tedium of ‘Let’s Go’) on The Path Of Totality, there are moments of inspired creativity.

Highlights include the Feed Me helmed album closer ‘Bleeding Out’ - all throbbing synth and crushingly muted chords - which perhaps showcases one of the best meldings of the two genres on the whole album, the Noisia produced ‘Kill Mercy Within’ which is essentially just a half-decent KoЯn song, with a hauntingly pulsating riff and awkward hi-hats, and album opener ‘Chaos Lives In Everything’, as synths add a perfectly grungey edge to the guitars.

While some elements of KoЯn’s trad. nu-metal sound mesh well with the dubstep template ("tempos at 140 with half-time drums, huge bassed-out riffs”, to quote Jonathon Davis again), others do not, and most of the time it feels as though the roped in producers (of which there is an impressive rostrum; Noisia, Excision, the aforementioned Skrillex, Kill The Noise, Downlink, 12^th Planet, Flinch and Feed Me) are feeling a little trapped by the claustrophobic accoutrements of the guitar-led genre. For instance, most of the tracks – including lead-off single ‘Get Up!’ with Skrillex behind the scenes - start off with the familiar bass wubs alongside the detuned riffage, but by the time the typically ‘epic’ four-chord KoЯn chorus comes along, they are relegated to basically playing bass parts with their synths along with the guitars.

The producers onboard are only rarely given their own chance to shine, and for the most part their electronic wizardry is mixed too low to really stand out, and for this the distinctive sounds of each are lost. A mid-song break allows Skrillex to get his attacking freak-on on ‘Narcissistic Cannibal’, but that is one of a few rare moments.

The Path Of Totality will almost certainly be hated by ‘true’ Dubstep and KoЯn fans alike, as it represents pretty much everything that is wrong with either genre. Musically though, you have to hand it to everyone involved for having a brave go at something new, even if when you think about it for long enough it doesn’t seem that much of an alien idea. Some of the songs I hope never to hear again, but give the album enough time and you will find at least a couple of tunes that catch you, if only for there ‘interesting’ elements.

Certainly not as bad as Metallica and Lou Reed’s effort.

Alex Nelson.

KoЯn.com

FEATURE: What Sonic Youth Mean To Me

2011-11-29T21:38:00.003Z

I was four years old once.

Father played me ‘Drunken Butterfly’ from Sonic Youth’s grunge/noise odyssey Dirty when I was four years old. Seeing Dad flail to the chugga-chugga guitars and covering my ears at the slightest burst of feedback, it was easy, even then, to dismiss this as ‘one of Dad’s bands’, ‘not for me’.

Fast forward ten years, and I’m in high school trying to out-cool my pretentious teen peers, name dropping obscure alternative acts like top trumps. ‘Well, I like Sonic Youth,’ I say, referring to my limited exposure as a child. ‘Oh really?’ a friend perks up, ‘so do I!’ He proceeds to quiz me on the band, as I stare back blankly, not really knowing what I’m talking about. ‘I’d better get clued up,’ I think to myself.

I’m in the car, helping Dad return that week’s assortment of borrowed CDs back to the library they came from. On the stereo is Sonic Nurse, more specifically ‘Pattern Recognition’. The structure is sporadic, the two-minute feedback intensive outro unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. ‘This is the sort of thing only heard on late night Channel 4’ I muse to myself. This is cool.

From then it’s a whirlwind trip around the back catalogue of albums, bootlegs, and rare pressings. Each one shapes my musical landscape in a different way; eventually coming together to form such a collective impact I am barely able to keep it from influencing my every move.

I buy checked shirts, I track down obscure noise recordings whilst equally embracing pop culture, I head to every gig I can get a ticket for, I start replacing the word ‘your’ with ‘yr’ (even in official documentation)… I start writing and WRITING ABOUT music.

I am unable to keep the vast history of Sonic Youth from changing my personality, let alone my music taste. But such is the individuality of each piece; the overall amalgamation carries a distinction of its own. Only people savvy to the ‘Yoof will notice, but I think it’s a distinction I will carry for the rest of my years.

Alex Nelson.

You can watch what may prove to be Sonic Youth's last ever performance below:

ALBUM: Gorillaz - The Singles Collection 2001 - 2011

2011-11-29T19:43:00.003Z

Ten years ago, Gorillaz hit the scene. This was the era in which writeable CDs were a fresh idea. A fresh idea that was subsequently exploited by every teenage music obsessive the world over. This led to a lot of people listening to a host of music that would not normally be their first choice; such was the convenience (a convenience that has since grown dramatically with the common adoption of mp3 technology).

So it was in this manner that I picked up Gorillaz self-titled debut album, released in 2001, from a recommending friend. Like the plethora of tastes a music fan could inadvertently pick up back then, the album was a mish-mash of styles. From the trip-hop of early singles ‘Tomorrow Comes Today’ and ‘Clint Eastwood’, to the scratchy kookiness of the more radio friendly offerings ’19-200’ and ‘Rock The House’, the album also straddled punk and baggy Madchester sounds.

Fast forward four years and the animated enigma surrounding the group had been shattered revealing the creative centre points of Blur’s Damon Albarn and visual artist Jamie Hewlett. Demon Days was released in 2005, and although propelling Gorillaz to mainstream acclaim, it was a far more straightforward affair than 2001’s genre hopping debut. Attention was thrust upon the album’s guest appearances (De La Soul and Danger Mouse being notable examples on singles ‘Feel Good Inc.’ and ‘Dirty Harry’), and the simplistically synthy disco dancer of the Shaun Ryder helmed ‘DARE’ still proves to be one of the duo’s weakest singles.

2010’s Plastic Beach was released to a minimum of fanfare considering the acclaim that second album had wrought upon itself. It retained the forward-thinking momentum of Demon Days, and the now standard guest spots (Lou Reed, Snoop Dogg, Mark E. Smith etc.), but managed to recapture a legion of Gorillaz fans thanks to moments of outlandish, inspired genius, and genuinely catchy songs. ‘On Melancholy Hill’ may be the band’s most outspoken, understated greatest single to date.

All of the aforementioned singles are included on this fifteen track compilation, including a couple of career spanning remixes taken from various ‘G’ and ‘D’ side compilations over the years. It’s all laid out very chronologically, which by proxy makes the mid section of the album the weakest and eschews variety, but it is a consistent package. Fans of Gorillaz who already have all of the albums need not particularly bother (most of Gorillaz wired intellect is to be found away from the lead singles anyway), but for curios new to the group, or people who just want a decent compilation detailing the lifespan of Damon Albarn’s best band since Blur, it definitely wouldn’t do any harm to pick this up. Definitely a strong compilation.

Alex Nelson.

Gorillaz.com

LIVE: Yuck + Gross Magic + Fanzine @ Waterfront, Norwich 23/11/2011

2011-11-28T20:34:00.002Z

I remember first reading about Yuck about eighteen months ago or so. The article in question (I forget in which publication it resided), was peppered with knowing nods to some of my favouritest ever bands; a Sonic Youth here, a Pavement there, a Dinosaur Jr. for good measure. Indeed, in the intervening few months before the debut albums release, I continued to see these buzz phrases littering artist bios and live reviews all over the music press. Until on the day of that first record’s release, I rushed down on a lunch break from my low-paid job to my local HMV, and splashed out on the CD without having heard any of the tracks, trusting in the knowledge that this band couldn’t be bad. How could they? Where would the justification in every journalist attaching these much loved names to their music be?

Suffice to say, I was disappointed. Yuck took all the good parts of all of these bands, and spread them thinly with little or no effort. It wasn’t awful, but neither was it the amazing lackadaisical masterpiece I had so longed for. Nonetheless, I retained faith, and decided to give the band one chance at redemption at an earlier appearance in Norwich. I approached lead singer Daniel Blumberg for an interview and he yelped excitedly at my Sonic Youth t-shirt. I was on to a good thing. But again, I was left slightly disappointed from the performance; apart from a searing rendition of album closer ‘Rubber’, the show lacked something. So it was with a sense of certain trepidation that I encroached upon the Waterfront, a step-up venue from the Arts Centre I had seen the band play in some ten months before.

First on the bill tonight are Fanzine, who seem to be contractually obliged to support Yuck at every available opportunity. I first laid my eyes and ears on this lethargic London lo-fi four piece as they shared a near identical bill at the converted church of music that is Norwich’s Arts Centre venue, and they failed to really grab my attention then. It’s a different story tonight though, maybe because their Built To Spill-like heroics fill the larger Waterfront room nicely, or maybe because I’m less drunk than I was the first time around and I stay to actually watch the whole set. Who knows?

Their songs are psalms to the loud-quiet-loud structures of the indie-rock that dominated the radios of many a college rocker in the mid nineties, and as mentioned, they swing their Built To Spill-esque stylings around the stage with much aplomb – beanie hat and beard and everything. There’s none-too-much variety between the various tracks, the band don’t do anything particularly new with a tried and tested genre, and it does get a little tiresome towards the end of the set, but to start with at least, it’s a promising glimpse into that much sought after grungey renaissance.

Gross Magic bridge the musical gap tonight with their own askewed take on the indie-grot genre. Sounding upbeat and punky one minute – a mid-set thrasher could’ve been directly lifted from the Sex Pistols back catalogue - and just plain weird the next, their act can be hard to comprehend at times. It’s all held together by a Johnny Greenwood lookalike on thrash guitar who just begs to break into an all out noise-fest at every available minute (and in truth, some of the band’s songs do sound like they could do with a shot in the arm like that at times). But for the most part it’s on the whole engaging.

Yuck take to the stage in a typically understated fashion and launch into ‘Holing Out’s blend of wah-pedals and sunshine guitars. That I’m annoyingly stuck having to crane my neck around one of the Waterfront’s supporting pillars, only able to spy on one band member at a time, isn’t really detriment to the group’s performance (also, I’m able to masterfully dodge any over-enthusiastic dancers and jot the set-list down as and when songs are played, something I’ve always wanted to be able to do). They don’t really move about much on stage, preferring to stand awkwardly rooted to the spot delivering their payload. While this is something most Yuck fans have come to expect, for one young couple it doesn’t prove exciting enough and they make for the exit early, spouting ‘they just don’t seem interested at all’.

Nevertheless, the sound is mightily purdy throughout, guitarist Max Bloom’s bright chords shining through the speaker system one moment, and piercing them with screaming overdrive the next. The band pick a decent set-list, dipping into a handful of b-sides, recently re-released with the deluxe edition of their debut album, including the catchy heartfelt refrains of ‘Soothe Me’.

The set is nice and loud throughout, and even the softer, more outspoken songs – such as the plucky Pavement-like guitars of ‘Shook Down’ - on the record, have an air of squeal about them tonight. It’s never as apparent as it is on set-closet ‘Rubber’, which screams through the air ‘til its noisy conclusion, at which point the band members of every act playing on tonight’s bill rush onstage for a feedback drenched human pyramid. Strangely.

Tonight may have seen Yuck earn their redemption once and for all, delivering a truly engrossing performance and transporting with them a fitting close to the touring of album number one. Hopefully on the second they will continue in the same vein as they are in now, but perhaps make it a little bit more exciting? Is that too much to ask?

Alex Nelson.

Yuck's MySpace

Thanks to Stacy Walton at The Art Of...

LIVE: The Naked And Famous + Post War Years @ Waterfront, Norwich 21/11/2011

2011-11-27T19:39:00.002Z

The first thing you notice at a Naked And Famous gig (and this may come as something of a crushing disappointment for many), is that none of the New Zealand quintet are particularly naked (in fact, fully clothed), or indeed, that famous. Although try telling that to the swelling crowd of teens packing out Norwich’s Waterfront venue. While The Naked And Famous may not have the largest of followings under the sun, the excitement is practically palpable in the 700 or so capacity venue. Excited ‘in-the-know’ fans bustle about, swapping stories and, perhaps alarmingly and certainly far too publicly, bodily fluids (my attempts to quietly enjoy a drink in a relaxed section of the bar are rudely interrupted by a frotting couple).

Yes, it’s been The Naked And Famous’ year. Having already conjured something of a loyal following in their native nation of New Zealand, a handful of well received singles has seen them increase their fan ranks in the UK too, and a light dusting of high profile festival dates over the summer has only helped to bolster this.

(It’s also just occurred to me that my little jibe there at the beginning about the band ‘not being naked’ makes me seem like I was genuinely disappointed by that fact, and that I am some kind of shrieking nudophile. I’m not, it was just supposed to be a witty opening aside, easing you in to the main body of the piece. I’m going to say it was a glib attempt to say ‘you shouldn’t always judge a book/band by its cover/name’, and that for every piece of considered keyboard based whimsy TNAF throw at you, there’s a punchy guitar led jam just around the corner to knock you off your feet in a completely different fashion.)

First on the bill tonight though are Post War Years from Royal Leamington Spa (ooh). They’ve been around a good few years now, chucking out a couple of releases of their own – most notably 2009’s The Greats And The Happenings – from which they pick their set tonight. On record the band sound very mathy, very insectoid, very Foals. In the live setting it seems a slightly different proposition, the keys very much taking centre stage and making for an altogether less-subtle, but a heck of a lot dancier sound. Unfortunately, the band fail to get the audience on side perhaps as much as they would like, and they leave the stage having not made too much of a mark in the young mindsets of the crowd.

The Naked And Famous take to the stage (after an agonising and bladder destroying wait) to a storm of applause, whoops, jeers, and more whoops. From the off the throng of fans is in a frenzy, as the band rip into slap-in-the-face statement of intent ‘A Geek In Wolf’s Clothing’, feedback desperately peeking its head out from behind the stabs of guitar and bright choruses of synth to start. Yes, as said before, TNAF can prove themselves to be a definite band of two sides. When ingesting one of their more mid-tempo electronic numbers, you can be safe in the knowledge that you’ll be on your feet again soon, dancing to an altogether racier beast.

Unfortunately, volume issues within the sound system mean the band ultimately have trouble flipping between these two ‘modes’. The explosive drone guitars of ‘Frayed’, and the LCD Soundsystem infused beats of ‘All Of This’ all sound well and good, but when the band take it down a notch, as on the dreamy minimalism of ‘The Sun’, the babbling of the understandably raucous crowd seems to take a hold and serves to drown the music in a sea of giggles and chat.

But the band play well, and when it sounds good, it sounds really good. The biggest cheers of the night are perhaps reserved for the encore, as we’re treated to the gracious lovelorn paean that is ‘Girls Like You’, and ‘Young Blood’; a song that the crowd have been demanding for the duration of the set. They respond in kind by going absolutely mental (and, if I’m honest, this reviewer’s usually staunch feet may have lifted from the ground momentarily too).

TNAF are unlike most other dance-rock bands, in that some of their songs are dance songs with guitars in, and others are rock songs with keyboards attached. Unfortunately, this musical divide is highlighted on this particular occasion in a bad light, but as things are really only just beginning for the band (in this country at least), it will be exciting to see where they take us next.

Alex Nelson.

The Naked And Famous.com

LIVE: Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks @ KOKO, London 14/11/2011

2011-11-17T19:34:00.003Z

Stephen Malkmus – the enigmatic front man of cult indie rockerz Pavement – needs no introduction. But I did just sort of give him one. No matter, we won’t dwell on the past and make reference to last year’s lucrative Pavement reunion (again, sort of just did), all slack guitars and lackadaisical fringe flicking, and instead focus on tonight’s show; Stephen’s latest live outing with his Jicks in tow.

Unlike those Pavement shows last year (right, I’m just abandoning the ‘no Pavement’ rule) which lurched through to their conclusions with charming laissez-faire, tonight’s show is tight and on form. That’s not to say the gig I witnessed last May at the Brixton Academy with messrs. Nastanovich, West, Kannberg, and Ibold in tow was diminished in any way by the odd duff notes and a care-free attitude, I’m simply making a comparison that says “Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks are – tonight anyway – a completely different beast; (almost) note perfect and in tune.”

But I’m tripping over my literary devices.

From the moment the crowd slink onstage under cover of darkness, the house lights go up, and they launch into leading track from latest album Mirror Traffic (‘Tigers’; see video below for visual ‘evidence’), the sound in the room is clear and collective. “We’ve got a bit of a squeaky P.A. up here” Malkmus splutters between the first two tracks, but he needn’t have said; no one notices, and it’s plain sailing from here on in.

The set focuses mostly on cuts from that latest album, but there’s a few surprises in there in the form of ‘Jenny & The Ess Dog’ – now a Jicks classic – the choppy ‘Animal Midnight’ and the folk jam tinges of ‘Us’ from sophomore Jicks album Pig Lib. A few new tunes get an airing too, including the rambunctious math-rock of ‘Polvo’ (possibly a nod?).

The band are obviously well rehearsed and together, the normally punchy country jams of ‘Long Hard Book’ get a spontaneous extended solo outro – near doubling the tracks running time – as band members exchange knowing smiles, able to read the other’s moves and adapt accordingly to the shifting timbre of the song.

Malkmus exchanges wry wit with the crowd regularly, dedicating one song to Domino Records (“the best English label… after EMI. That was an industry joke.”), holding a second’s silence for Carl Barat (he’s not dead, just very much on Malkmus’ radar after adorning the backstage walls of KOKO with a greedy THREE signed photos!), and concocting an improvised song about Holiday Inn – the band’s choice of accommodation that night – (“American riff-raff/Stay away from our hotels!”).

After a good hour on stage, the band return to perform an incendiary and seemingly impulsive rendition of The Troggs much lauded classic ‘Wild Thing’ (“we’re gonna play ‘til curfew – we’re gonna play ‘til blood is shed.”). And with that, and a triumphant thrust of the arms from Malkmus, the band slink off into the KOKO darkness from whence they came, leaving the bustling crowd to filter out of the building.

Malkmus may have just added an extra tally to the ongoing Jicks vs. Pavement debate.

Alex Nelson.

SONIC LIFE: Why Thurston & Co.'s South American Debuts Shouldn't Be Their Last

2011-11-14T09:11:00.004Z

Tonight (Nov. 14^th 2011) sees a pivotal moment in the life of influential experimental rockers Sonic Youth’s long-term fan base for many reasons. For one, it marks the end of their first ever South American tour. A tour which has seen them take in countries such as Peru, impoverished from the lack of Sonic Youth since the band’s inception almost thirty years ago.

Another reason - perhaps the more worrying of the two listed so far - is that tonight’s gig at Brazil’s SWU Music & Arts Festival, could be the band’s last ever.

After the shattering announcement of Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon’s separation from marriage came tumbling into the music press back in mid-October, the future of the band has looked uncertain beyond this handful of South American dates.

Internet gossip boards have been alight with spurious debate as to whether the band will, or even can, survive what must be a tumultuous time for two of the core members of the now five-piece band (Pavement’s Mark Ibold joined the quartet on secondary bass duties back in 2008).

“I certainly hope the band finds it in them to stay together. Though if they quit, I wouldn’t be totally surprised” said online master messeger ‘Count Mecha’.

“I always thought their relationship situation was about as good as anyone could ever be fortunate enough to find themselves in. 27 years, insane. All those great tunes. This shit is a bummer” were the sentiments of one Sonic Gossiper, ‘ann ashtray’, while another – ‘foreverakiss’ – simply added “all bullshit aside… This is so fucking sad.”

All across the board grievances and best wishes were pouring in for the band and the now separate couple. The majority willed the group to continue, giving back story to their own infatuation with the band’s long and varied back catalogue as testimony to why they should continue, but many simply did not agree that the band could survive, even if they wanted to, as the same band we once knew and loved.

I for one had ‘split’ etched into my mind from the moment I read that initial news. Here was a band that had been pulling out all the stops for nigh on thirty years now. Despite their endless enthusiasm and amiable youthfulness in the face of fifty, most people would need a rest by now, and so it would seem sensible to use this stop gap as a perfect opportunity to do this. Add into the mix the slew of solo records from Thurston (including his latest offering; the soft folk driven excellence of Demolished Thoughts – a million miles away from most Sonic Youth material), Ranaldo’s upcoming one-man attempt and the endless stream of bands Steve Shelley seems to be in at the moment, and the thought of a break becomes clearer by the minute.

After 27 years of seemingly solid relationship status, for something to have caused a split it must have been more than a little squabble. In keeping with Thurston and Kim’s perfect shunning of the public eye on their personal lives and with respect to privacy, I shall not be rumour-milling on what it could be. All I’m saying is that it seemed fairly likely to make matters between the two parties too stressful to continue.

But then, video surfaced on the same Sonic Gossip message board as mentioned before, of the band’s Argentinean performance at the country’s Personal Fest. It was good to see the band so tight and on form, still putting everything into the performance. From an audience perspective, this was still the Sonic Youth of old, all crunching chords, guitar wailing and stage flailing. It would’ve been easy for the band to fall into a ‘eurgh, get these dates out of the way, and then we’re off!’ kind of mentality, but it didn’t seem like that at all.

Here was a band clearly enjoying themselves in front of a rabid new audience, perhaps – if there was any doubt in their minds as to whether they’d continue – reminding them why they loved playing in Sonic Youth so much, and eschewing any decisions that may or may not have been made up to that point.

Pictures from a subsequent gig from the same tour in Peru reinforced this further. Guitar abusing noise cacophonies not seen since before the Daydream Nation tour were capture to camera, and while some may have seen this as a cynical attempt to break all their gear in a final salute to the music, I took it as a return to the care-free, boundary pushing band of old.

If Sonic Youth break up, it will mean the end to a band that has informed so much more than just my music life since the age of about 15. If it wasn’t for Sonic Youth, I wouldn’t be listening to the music I listen to, wearing the clothes I wear, speaking the way I speak, watching the films or TV I watch, or writing the way I write. Heck, I don’t think I’d be writing at all if it wasn’t for the band turning me on fully to my love of music back in the day.

So, here’s hoping of an announcement, sometime in the near future (possibly at tonight’s show), that Sonic Youth will be continuing, despite their differences, into the New Year at least.

Sonic Life.

Alex Nelson.

THE PULL OF DUTY: Why Modern Warfare Is Causing Such A Stir.

2011-11-14T08:06:00.001Z

WARNING: This article contains minor spoilers.

Unless you've been living under a rock for the last few weeks, all you gamers out there should no doubt be frothing at the mouth over the fact that the latest in the uber popular Call Of Duty series - 'Modern Warfare 3' - hits shop shelves on Tuesday 8th November 2011.

Yes, queues of eager fans have been amassing around the world as thousands of shops put on 'midnight launches' for the most hardcore of fans (and there's a lot of them; it is expected that by the end of the first day of release, the game will have racked up an impressive 7 million sales!).

But, as is now becoming synonymous with the launches of these games - who by their very nature deal with sensitive subject matters such as global terrorism and extreme fundamentalism - this launch hasn't gone by without its fair share of controversies.

"No Russian"

2009's 'Modern Warfare 2' came packaged with a level entitled 'No Russian' in which you assisted a Russian led terrorist plot, wandering calming through an busy airport, picking off innocent civilians with your massive assault rifle. It was possible to skip this level, and players were given a clear warning upon starting up the game, it was not necessary to actually partake by shooting anyone in the scene (this player, for one, stood back and watched helplessly in shock), and the act itself was integral for sparking off the fictional Russian/American conflict integral to the game's bombastic plot, but of course it caused outrage.

Modern Warfare 3

Even before the trilogy's third game was released, footage included in thetrailer, showing an London Underground carriage careering out of control under heavy arms fire and careening through concrete support pillars, came under much scrutiny. Perhaps the 'close-to-home' nature of these terror laden scenes has resonated somewhat with a select few games. But, there's more...

According to the Kotaku game blog: "[a] scene shows a family using a video camera to record their visit to London. Then a truck pulls up ahead of a young girl. The truck blows up, killing the girl and the family, and then it spreads poison gas through the air. The camcorder falls to the ground and shows the aftermath for a few seconds."

These scenes are sure to generate much negative attention for the game's developers Infinity Wards and the new-to-the-series Sledgehammer Games. But, should we take these scenes with a pinch of salt, perhaps respecting their context within the game, and their need within the story of the game? Sledgehammer Games' creative director Bret Robbins, speaking toVentureBeat, was quick to add the following:

"*We wanted to show the effect of war. What happens if a modern American city gets attacked? What would that be like, what would you see? If you were walking down the street, what would happen? Civilians are part of that, innocent people are part of it unfortunately.

**You don't do it just for the sake of blowing everything up, just for the fun of it. You just come up with scenes and moments that would make sense within the story.

Does this make sense? Should the characters be here at this time? Does this fit the plot? You want it to make sense. It can't just be gratuitous... It needs to be real missions; things that could possibly happen in the extraordinary circumstances that you're creating.*"

"Pushing The Boundaries"

And with Bret Robbins we entirely agree. Films and other visual medias are constantly pushing the boundaries of what is deemed 'acceptable' for audiences to see, so why shouldn't video games? They are, after all, the most lucrative media in the modern world, even eclipsing movies in terms of their net worth and saturation throughout popular culture.

Perhaps it is the immersive nature of these games, and the constant blurring of reality that cause the concern. Whereas when watching a film you just sit back and let it all wash over you passively, within a video game you are more often than not engaging directly with the onscreen action, basing decisions on what you see on your television and acting on them.

The Pull of Duty

No matter what your thinking on the subject, there's no denying that this next installment in the Call Of Duty franchise will no doubt go on to be one of the most successful games of the year, if not EVER. Tight action and addictive multiplayer means publishers Activision will probably be looking at another major Christmas bonus, an annual occurrence for the team we're sure.

Alex Nelson.

John Peel Day 2011: Who Is John Peel?

2011-10-25T10:36:00.001+01:00

Today is John Peel day, the day on which music fans up and down the UK - and indeed across the globe - celebrate the life of the influential and much loved Radio 1 DJ by hosting gigs up and down the country, and generally just getting together to enjoy music. But just exactly WHO is John Peel?

---

Well, as I have already mentioned, John Peel was an influential and much loved Radio 1 DJ.

He was born in the small English town of Heswall in 1939, and grew up to become one of the first major DJs on the then fledgling BBC Radio 1 music station, which is now arguably the biggest radio station in the UK. He presented many shows on the station under many various formats, before presenting his late night show, which is perhaps the show he is most famous for. He presented this show right up until his death in 2004.

The show was an eclectic mix of music, reflecting greatly Peel's own tastes working in a long list of various genres, including pop, reggae, indie rock, alternative rock, punk, hardcore punk, breakcore, grindcore, death metal, British hip hop, and dance music, and more.

This show sits fondly in the memories of music fans the world over. Many would stay up late just to hear the latest bands and music hand picked by the mind of Peel, less hardy types taping the show to cassettes to listen to on the drives to and from work the next day. But, however you consumed it, the show was constantly displaying innovative music and exciting new ideas within, championing up and coming bands.

Many great radio features seen on contemporary shows can be seen as being derived somewhat from Peel's show. For example, Radio 1's 'Live Lounge' can claim it's inspiration from the multitudes of 'Peel Sessions' that took place over the years (over 4000 sessions recorded by over 2000 artists!), and the 'Festive Fifty' - Peel's countdown of the 50 best tracks of the corresponding years as picked by listeners every Christmas - lists are still considered some of the most comprehensive documents of musical taste ever created.

John Peel died suddenly in 2004 after suffering from a heart attack whilst on a working holiday in Peru, and the news was of great shock to everyone working in and fans of the music industry. Peel's legacy and influence lives on in many aspects of popular music; the new bands stage at Glastonbury was renamed to be known as 'The John Peel Stage', and many other things are named after him throughout the music world.

John Peel Day originally started as an official BBC run campaign, whereby the broadcasting corporation encouraged as many people as possible to hold gigs up and down the country in honor of the late DJ. This first started in 2005, and continued throughout the following two years. Since 2007, no official events have been held to commemorate John Peel Day, but this hasn't stopped the public from taking the event into their hearts, and many gigs are still held on this date regardless.

Alex Nelson.

LIVE: Wolf Gang + S.C.U.M + DZ Deathrays @ Waterfront, Norwich 13/10/2011

2011-10-17T19:43:00.003+01:00

NME Tours are usually events that carry such elation with their announcements. A sort of mainstay in the gig goer’s world, many music fans find themselves heading along to each and every one, regardless of who’s actually playing, in the hope of finding a new band to sink their teeth into. They’re usually quality nights, and while by their very nature of eclecticism they can be a bit hit and miss, they’re always worth checking out.

Nonetheless, it’s evident that they may be slipping in popularity these days. As we enter the Waterfront venue’s main double-doors, we are directed by staff not to the 700 capacity main room, but instead to the much smaller, 200 capacity ‘Studio’ upstairs. Yes, ticket sales have obviously been fairly slow for tonight’s gig, but we’re glad to report that a transfer to the Studio brings with it a brasher, more in your face sound. And, perhaps most importantly, it generally sounds pretty nice too.

DZ Deathrays are first to make use of the wired PA system. The room at this point may be pretty empty, but their guitar/drum Death From Above 1979-style combo sounds as full as ever, loop pedals and aural trickery filling out the stage area with noise. At one point, lead singer Shane Parsons abandons his guitar completely for a flailing pan-stage flail. The veracious noise continues of course, thanks in part to some clever loop pedal know how, but also just ‘because every distortion pedal available is cranked to breaking point.

Up next are London’s S.C.U.M, who sound a bit like The Horrors second and third albums. Indeed, they sounded like those records years before The Horrors ever did, but have of course been eclipsed by the media attention the Southend Goth-rockers garnered in their early incarnation. S.C.U.M’s sound is ambitious and realised, filling the gloomy air with blasts of synth and droning guitars. A single pulsating strobe light compliments the set for most of the performance, and while the band do ‘bring us into the light’ at the end of the set, while it lasts it adds an air of atmosphere to an otherwise pretty standard show. Sure, it’s all well played out, but the repetitive drones of keys and strings land pretty flatly on the audience’s (which is now starting to grow considerably) ears.

Headliners for the night are the unashamedly 80s aping Wolf Gang. High camp is the name of the game here, and it’s a little bewildering to see a band so flagrantly pop topping the bill of an indie institutions gig night. But, it’s happening, so we might as well get on with it. Unfortunately, that mentality isn’t kept throughout most of the audience, as the now bustling crowd shrinks to about half its original size during the course of this performance alone. I’d heard that Max McElligot’s Wolf Gang had elevated himself from zero to fashion icon in a mere six months, and if the singular piece of thin white material (some might call it a ‘scarf’) he sports as he jaunts around the stage to his backing band’s limp pop-party is anything to go by, I’m at least half as fashionable as him. I have a black t-shirt too!

The band whittle through tracks from their recently released debut Suego Faults, each one more colourful than the last, but retaining a fairly constant sense of disenchantment throughout.

So, that’s the two NME Radar Tour’s done for the year (Anna Calvi, Grouplove and The History Of Apple Pie all tore up the Waterfront’s main room back in May), and it’s been a night of two halves; half searing noisy thrash-pop, half weird 80s throwback nonsense. Still, it doesn’t knock my anticipation for future tours. Let’s just hope many other people still feel the same way.

Alex Nelson.

DZ Deathrays' MySpace

S.C.U.M's MySpace

Wolf Gang.co.uk

With thanks to Chris Cuff @ Family Ltd.

ALBUM: Jono McCleery - There Is

2011-10-04T18:01:00.002+01:00

Ahh, the drab world of the singer songwriter. Never before has a single sect of the music world so successful captured a realm of ad tedium so perfectly. Whether it’s the same ol’ tired meanderings of the fretboard from every acousto folk troubadour manning the trendy town bar every night of the (mid)week, or the sparse soundscapes of experimentally depressive types such as Jamie Woon or James Blake, there never seems to be shortage of musos prepared to put a downer on your day.

Ok, I’m generalizing. Ok, I’m not really. I guess Jay Reatard wrote and sung all his own songs, but his blend of high energy proto-punk sort of disqualifies him from the term. Something he would no doubt be highly pleased with.

In steps Jono McCleery. Perhaps a bright young spark in the field, ready and waiting to revolutionize things and make us all think twice before acting like a dickhead and making sweeping statements. Well, in short, no. Not at all.

There Is opens with ‘Fears’, a minimal, slightly glitchy number that recalls the more sombre moments of Radiohead’s later career. Sure this lad can sing, there’s no doubt about that, but not even an admittedly funky (eurgh) bass line can save the track from a real sense of... ‘pleeh’.

‘Garden’ is more of the same, as is ‘Wonderful Life’, ‘Tomorrow’ and ‘Stand Proud’, which features Fink (must check what this means). ‘It’s All’ delivers a slight change of pace. Ok, that was a lie, but what it does deliver is an semi-interesting track, all Muse-y vocals, rim shots and subtleties.

Ultimately, There Is is a tedious listen, stuck within the trappings of its own genre boundaries. Coming from a background of noise-rock, I simply can’t understand why somebody wouldn’t feel the urge to unleash fury on a fuzzbox and noisily wield an electric guitar in the faces of their doubters. So maybe I’m just biased.

Alex Nelson.

JonoMcCleery.com

Why I Love Nirvana's 'IN UTERO' In 100 Words

2011-09-28T16:00:00.002+01:00

The huge success of 'Nevermind' weighted a ton of expectation on the grunge hero's third album. They responded in the most punk rock of fashions, eschewing talk they'd ever sold out in the first place. Gone were the seamless productions of Butch Vig, replaced by the scratchy sensibilities of noisenik Steve Albini; 41 minutes of brooding proto-grunge followed, Cobain penning some of his bleakest and most cryptic lyrics yet. From the mid-tempo jangles of 'Serve The Servants', through to the open stringed, vocal straining of 'All Apologies', this record is the sound of a band on the brink of collapse.

ALBUM: Pocketbooks - Carousel

2011-09-26T18:40:00.002+01:00

Pocketbooks are an indie pop band of sorts hailing from London. Although, whereby under most uses of that description you would find a band with a mid range in the BPM, and catchy hooks around every chorus, instead what we have here in Carousel, is a dark, brooding, and altogether slightly limp package of songs.

The record starts off with the plinky plonk of distant piano, before the understated vocals of Andy Hudson break through, part Suede’s Brett Anderson, part twee-tastic soft-London drawl.

‘Sickly sweet’ would be a good way to describe it, and that theme continues throughout the album. On ‘Promises, Promises’ light violin supplements a jangly guitar chord crux and whimsical lyrics. The album is typically lamenting throughout, with tales of lost love and other such trivially emotional botherations, although the record does divulge briefly in a few different moods. Even when the subject matter remains tied to its harkening solitariness, the music itself is surprisingly perky and maintains a real energy throughout. Although it does kind of get on your nerves after a while.

Like I say, ‘sickly sweet’ is the name of the game here on Carousel, and, like all indulgent sugar sessions, the rush only lasts so long. That is, if there I a rush in the first place.

Alex Nelson.

Pocketbooks.org.uk

ALBUM: Savaging Spires - Savaging Spires

2011-09-22T15:50:00.002+01:00

Savaging Spires are one of those rare bands who have managed to keep an air of mystery about their formation (indeed, I’d never heard of them) in this day an age of readily available online information and social networking.

Complimenting this air of mystery nicely, the band have released an album of similar enigma. Haphazard compositions line the disc of this self-titled debut release, and the album trundles along with a clear undercurrent of eerie, sinisterial menace.

The shrieking feedback of ‘Trust’ is worthy of comparison to New York noiseniks Sonic Youth in their Washing Machine heyday, before it descends into a choral voiced, xylophone nuanced drone out. The discordant acoustics of next track ‘October’ evoke the detuned semantics of that band’s ring-leader, Thurston Moore, and his recently opaque solo effort, Trees Outside The Academy. But don’t be thinking this album is all skronking feedback jams and violent discordantry, as for the most part the album is a sweetly crafted, folk-tinged record.

But still, the droning ‘school orchestra’ effect of album opener ‘Bending The Rules Of Time’ is abundant throughout the album, as ear grating recorders and the twangs of as-yet-undisclosed instruments compliment softly plucked guitars. It works surprisingly well though, and acts to give the record a somewhat haunting quality.

Savaging Spires’ debut release is a strange beast to listen to, but an interesting one. Half softly spoken folk records, half demi-experimental collective drone assaults, it may not be for everyone’s ears, but it certainly grips the imagination. Just don’t listen to it late at night with all the lights off. Brrrrr.

Alex Nelson.

Savaging Spires’ BandCamp

ALBUM: Miranda - Growing Heads Above The Roof

2011-09-11T10:41:00.001+01:00

Miranda are a three piece (or, a ‘tree piece’ as the press release auspiciously calls it) hailing from the south of Italy, more specifically, Florence. They’ve been on the circuit since 1999, and in that time, Piero Crafa (bass), Giuseppe Caputo (guitar, voice, synth, sampler) and Nicola Villani (drum, synth) have released two album. Growing Heads Above The Roof is their third full length release.

Originally released in 2009, the album is being re-released for another stab at a greater audience, and, if there was any justice in the world, it would (mostly) succeed.

It starts shakily enough, the weirdo tempo and synth blurts of opening track ‘Blow Off’ evoking something of the spirit of a wonky Liars/Death From Above 1979 mash-up and it’s all very abrasive. But stick with it, and you will find an intriguing album within.

Throughout the next ten tracks, Miranda channel their decidedly European take on ‘early-LCD-Soundsystem-with-guitars’ and run it through a gauntlet of increasingly lengthy and baffling song titles. There’s the slacker-pop riffs and rolling drums of mid-album standout ‘Peep Show, I Got You’, the sampled percussion and chilljazz rhythm of ‘Furry Girls Looking For A Flat Girl’, the throbbing synth wobble and electronic malfunctions of ‘Honk Honk (The Way We Grew With Comics)’, and finally, the ambient Sonic Youth-style jamma of the atmospherically building ‘…From The Left Side Of My Ass/Head’. Which also, come to think of it, it just as good as anything Swans or The Fall have ever done.

Most of the tracks segue into one another in interesting ways, and this adds a nice feeling of flow to the record which works as a whole package. The soft Italian accents of the vocals offer a sense of charm reminiscent of CSS’ Brazilo-rave, and no two songs are the same. You could be listening to the extensive, spoken word driven theatrics of ‘…From The Left Side Of My Ass/Head’ one minute, and the glitchy industrialism of ‘Red Hat Block’ the next.

All in all, Growing Heads Above The Roof is certainly an intriguing and well put together little album. While it may not be to everyone’s tastes, you are sure to find something to enjoy among its ten track long running order, and it is highly recommend that you ‘give it a go’.

Alex Nelson.

MirandaMiranda.it

ALBUM: Teeth - Whatever

2011-09-11T08:59:00.002+01:00

TEETH. TEETH!!! T3ETH. T∑∑TH? However it grabs you on paper, I first stumbled across these trendy Dalston based electro types at the Offset Festival of 2010, a festival renowned for its up-and-coming hipster chic. Scuppered in by their corresponding blurb in the programme (it probably had the word ‘noise’ in it somewhere), I trundled along to one of the festival’s strange looking wedding marquee stages to form my own opinions.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t too impressed with TEETH!!!. It was art-noise for art-noise’s sake. Among the cacophony of laptop spawned synth distortions (the fact that Ximon Tayki has himself down as a ‘laptop player’ – not a real instrument – should be a pretty big warning sign), there was hardly a tune or a thumping dance hook to get your feet around. The main reason for me to stay for the duration of the set became the fact that Comanechi were on after.

So, it’s up to the trio to try and win me over on debut album Whatever, which just about says it all really. True, the album is full of ‘unapologetic snotty punk attitude’ for the most part (primarily the first part), but it all seems a bit forced and unpoetic. The first half of the album – comprised of the first five tracks – becomes seemingly throwaway in its determination to be as electronically abrasive on your ears as is possible. Lazy Crystal Castles comparisons are hard to ignore, and dutifully justified, as lead singer Veronica So barks insistently across the tracks’ spasms of crackling keyboard huzz and drums pound with avid determination. Indeed, reading back over old ‘New Band of the Day’ articles featuring T3ETH, phrases such as ‘Crystal Castles comparisons have also been rife, but now they've got a real live drummer and they've found a third way out of that association’ become commonplace. Well, Crystal Castles have a real live drummer now as well, so they’re winning that race. This is like Crystal Castles for people who don’t have the stomach to admit they like Crystal Castles. Crystal Castles, yeah!

Things all take a turn for the better though around the mid-album mark and track 6, ‘This Time’. The unflinchingly rhythmic palpations of the song build to a haunting quality, and the abrasive sine-waves having since subsided give way to a much smoother sound. I’d be tempted to swallow my pride and called this side of T∑∑TH ‘chillwave’, but I have no fucking idea what that actually means. ‘Pill Program’ presents us with a joyfully playful spasmoid of a song, while ‘See Spaces’ slows the tempo a notch or two and opens up into a genuine MGMT-esque club smasher. The synth fit intro shrinks away into the main funk driven body of ‘Flowers’, and ‘Street Jams’ become sweet jams as the album closer’s bursts of keyboard destruction balance on just the right side of sane. And that may have just been the worst pun I have ever made in a review…

It’s a shame that only half of Teeth’s album is really worth talking about, as the second half of it is quite good actually. If you own it on vinyl, I heartily recommend only listening to side B. If you don’t own it on vinyl, maybe buy it if you can find it fairly cheap somewhere. If this was released as two EPs, I would no doubt be on the verge of ranting unvengefully about the second one. As it is though, Whatever by T33ZZZEEthhh is an album of light side, dark side.

Alex Nelson.

T3ETH.com

ALBUM: Viva Brother - Famous First Words

2011-09-05T18:02:00.003+01:00

Oh, what a difference some hype makes. Rewind back a few months, to the realm of January and the dreaded landscape of ‘Top 10 Bands to Watch in 2011’ lists that comes with it and you may remember Brother. Tipped with The Vaccines (but musically, different sides of the same coin) to carry the much eluded to reinvention of guitar music that we’re still desperately waiting for, they were a real marmite band.

On the one hand, there were certain sects of the music press latching on to the ever ridiculous statements spewing forth from singer Lee Newell’s gobby mouth and reveling in the prospect of some truly awful lad rock in a deludedly ironic fashion, while the rest of us with our heads screwed on looked on in horror, trying desperately to recreate the tinted haze of the John Lennon spectacles we assumed the rest of the world were looking through.

Finally, a few months after most had forgotten what the fuss is about, the Geffen record deal, the ridiculous circumstances of that name change, and Newell interestingly admitting he knew exactly what he was doing when he announced he and his band had written ‘the best songs of the last 20 years’ in some modestly sized football ground they wished to play in a few tours time like some PR MACHINE, the band released debut album Famous First Words. Sure, the album has been met in most quarters by surprised faces and above average review scores, but you escape the cynical feeling it may be just as ironic a ploy as those that were suckered in to the boisterous interview tensions and cocky swagger singles.

So now it IS genuinely cool to like Viva Brother? I’m confused. Or am I just being ironic?

Well, no. You’ll find no such irony here. This is not a good album. It’s not above average. It’s just average at best. Sure, it has its clasp on a few passable songs; the admittedly catchy vocal dances and choppy guitars of ‘Darling Buds Of May’, or the occasional bursts of Bernard Butler guitar licks that perforate the album with the spikes of blues infused fret board trickery, like on album opener ‘New Year’s Day’.

But you get the impression that if you sat the boys down in front of a video of Suede and Brett Anderson mincing about a stage in their heyday, they’d all scoff and turn back to the swagger of the less boho end of the britpop era they’re trying so hard to replicate.

In fact Newell’s fascination with the Manc brothers Gallagher’s nasal northern drawl is so abundantly clear it ends up going the other way and leaving him sounding like some worshipper her at the feet of clichéd American rock. I imagine this it what The Subway’s fifth album may sound like...

Every song plods to and fro at exactly the same pace. There are no rapid-fire-scrawly-bursts-of-punk-guitar songs, nor are there any acoustic, gently plucked ballads or anything like that. The lyrical content rarely ventures beyond the safety topics of not listening to anything what girls say or drinking what like the cool boys do, and the most daring single lyric you’re likely to hear is ‘la/la/la/la/la/la/la’ from, erm... Every single song.

Viva Brother’s debut isn’t a terrible TERRIBLE album, a batch of about three or four half decent songs saves it from that. It feels a bit strange that a band as bland as this Slough based four piece could ever have an opinion in the first place, let alone divide the opinions of a nation, but it’s happened, and it’s something that we’re stuck with. Give it a go, it can’t harm anybody. Form your own opinion, don’t just take my word for it. Although, if you wanna save some time....

Alex Nelson.

Viva Brother's MySpace

ALBUM: Nero - Welcome Reality

2011-08-30T19:19:00.002+01:00

At the time of writing, the debut album of London based dubstep duo Nero was riding high at number 1 in the charts, having finally knocked off all advances from acts riding on the coat tails of particularly bland Brit Award performances and their own deaths. Yes, a dubstep album! At the top of the charts! About three years too late…

Indeed, dubstep has been around for us ‘in the know’ for a good few years now, and we’re already into the realm of so called ‘post-dubstep’ types like Jamie Woon, Burial and James Blake etc. But, as is the norm with the popular landscape, it’s so far behind it’s almost embarrassing. With the likes of Katy B, Magnetic Man and even Nero themselves – Daniel Stephens and Joe Ray – rising through the ranks to bring dubstep to an ever increasing audience, it looks like the genre of bass and off-tempo beats may be here to stay a little longer, at least in this capacity.

The particular brand of dubstep on show on Welcome Reality won’t find any bedroom club heads wheezy at its obsurotastic collaborations or drrrty (sic) bass lines, but luckily, I’m not one of them, and this album is all the better for it. The dubstep of this ilk has shown no shame in lathering itself with pop nuances; whether it’s the angelic vocals of long time Nero shadow member Alana Watson, or the popstrel guest appearances on the recent Magnetic Man release, this brand of the ‘step comes with its own distinct character. Gone are the indistinguishable bass drops and wonky beat patterns to be heard blasting out of every second rate club in town at two in the morning, replaced instead with actual songs that retain the energy and sound of the scene, but remain definitely purposeful on their own two feet.

That ‘sound’ is reinforced all over Welcome Reality, whether it’s the post-soundscape bass wobble of ‘Me And You’ (which has since, unfortunately, become the go to song for every Radio 1 trail in existence), or the thudding synth trembles of ‘other’ single ‘Innocence’, dubstep is represented in abundance. In fact, Nero go all out on the tremendous ‘Crush On You’, which at first sounds like a cheesy joke song, all Beth Ditto-a-like vocals and lo-fi drum machine funk, before dropping into the one of the most acceptably antagonising glitch bass noise smashes of the year.

Amongst the dubstep capacity they are perhaps best known for, Nero also try their hand at a few other electronic hallmarks. There’s the eighties tinged French-electro of the Justice-esque ‘Must Be The Feeling’ and even their own stab at the aforementioned ‘post-dubstep’ on the eerily haunting low end impels of ‘In The Way’.

It’s all nicely produced, and the record overall has a nice flow to it to, which always helps. A lot of the tracks segue into each other by way of a fuzzy synth soundscape, and by the time the chart topping number 1 single smash of ‘Promises’ rolls around towards the end of the album, you’ll be jumping with the rest of your clan in no time.

Dubstep has the ability to be an absolute detritus of ‘screw you’ attitude and bass-noise for the sake of bass-noise, but the latest to join the throng of the popstep warriors Nero, release an intriguing and wholly accessible album of the stuff. Retaining what made the genre popular with mephadrone guzzling dimwits in the first place, and adding a splash of colourful character that harks back to some of dance music’s golden ages, Welcome Reality is worthy of its number 1 accolade, and could possibly stay there for, ooh, at least a week. Until people start buying Adele records again…

Alex Nelson.

This Is Nero.com

ALBUM: Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks - Mirror Traffic

2011-08-02T19:31:00.002+01:00

Stephen Malkmus. The idiosyncratic king of skewed indie rock. Rising to the throne and challenge with the enigmatic Pavement, and never falling from grace in his solo years (in this reviewer’s eyes anyway. The hardcore Pavement fans out there may have slightly differing views). Floppy fringed and naively manning the helm of the good ship art-kook-punk. But hey, this is meant to be a critical review. Not an open love letter to the man. Sheesh.

And so it is with Mirror Traffic, the fifth release from Stephen Malkmus (& The Jicks). In fact, you can pretty much forget that ‘Jicks’ suffix. This is a wholly Malkmus album. The last four were, and this one is too. We had pop-punk cheek Malkmus on the eponymous 2001 debut, drippy jazz Malkmus on 2003’s Pig Lib, shoestring-psyche Malkmus on the needlessly underrated Face The Truth, and prog-jam Malkmus on the windingly breezy Real Emotional Trash. But Malkmus has always been there, and if you love Pavement, you’ll love this.

The album opens with the always catchy and sunny sounding ‘Tigers’, the first single to be taken from this album. In the vein of ‘Gardenia’ from the last album, this is full on '& The Jicks'; Malkmus’ charismatic voice chiming his vaguely romantic lyrics your way in a nasally perfect California drawl, each rasping consonant tugging a heart string for no apparent reason behind a country tinged collage of brightly pealing guitars. ‘No One (Is As I Are Be)’ slows the pace slightly with its acoustic string rattle and linguistically confusing title, before teaser-track-triumph ‘Senator’ bursts onto the scene and ol’ Steve poignantly presents us with a tongue-in-cheek satire song. ‘I know what the senator wants/what the senator wants is a blowjob.’ Indeed. Fruity.

‘Jumblegloss’ segues between the aforementioned track and the charmingly ordained guitar lines of ‘Asking Price’, like a coda cheekily harking back to Pavement’s Brighten The Corners days. Unlike the proggy-jams of Real Emotional Trash (the title track of which daringly exceeded the staggering ten minute mark), most of the tunes on Mirror Traffic clock in at the much more modest three minute mark. ‘Stick Figures In Love’ is one of the longer tracks on the album, but the minute its drum roll intro and fuzz guitar leads grace your ears, and the stroking off-beat verses take your head for a spin, it’s smiles all round.

The slide guitar antics of ‘Long Hard Book’ show the first signs of showcasing Malkmus in typecastingly ‘baked’ mode, the languid pace and breathy vocals providing a real chill moment, before the chunging guitars and delayed vocals of ‘Tune Grief’ and the muted strings and perfectly heartbroken themes of ‘Forever 28’ whip you away again.

Mirror Traffic may not be the most accessible of Mr. Malkmus’ solo albums; but it’s still a lot of fun and not nearly half as hard to get into as earlier release Face The Truth (which actually improves with every listen). Once again it showcases the inscrutable indie rock performer at his uncategorised best, and delivers a few really quite brilliant tunes to the Jicks back catalogue.

Another demi-classic album to fall in love with.

Alex Nelson.

Stephen Malkmus.com

OPINION: News Of The World Shut Down

2011-07-07T21:06:00.000+01:00

As I reported on Tuesday (I use the term ‘reported’ loosely, it was more akin to a vehement rant), allegations have come to light of the supposed hacking of the voicemail messages of murdered schoolgirl Milly Dowler while she was missing in 2002.

Today saw a big (and frankly a bit shocking) development in the story, as News International’s chairman James Murdoch gave a statement in which he announced the closure of the News of the World’s presses. Sunday 10^th July shall see the last ever publication of the 168 year old newspaper, which is read by more people than any other English language newspaper.

‘Huzzah!’ you might cry. ‘Power to the people!’ you may holler. ‘Anarchy!’ you could exclaim if you were prone to overreacting. But would your overzealous cries of things you’ve gleaned from the pseudo-political media be just and right? Or is it slightly too early to be celebrating yet? Well, as a matter of fact, it just might be…

‘It's a typical management stunt from Mr. Murdoch,’ former deputy prime minister John Prescott told BBC News, ‘What he does is he gets rid of problems, and in this case nobody in senior management; none of those go, but the poor old workers at the News of the World are going and there's no doubt it will become the Sunday Sun.’

That’s right. Smart move, Mr. Murdoch. Smart move.

Closing down the presses of the News of the World, a paper with a long and fairly untroubled history, will no doubt douse some of the attention currently focused on the bigwigs and major players; namely then editor Rebekah Brooks (under whose watchful eye most of this fiasco occurred), ‘private investigator’ Glenn Mulcaire (alleged to be the man behind the supposed phone hacks in question), and Murdoch himself.

To many indifferent layabouts, this news will signal a sort of end point for their interest in the story. ‘Oh, everyone’s lost their jobs, got their shit together and are on the bus home… job done.’ But it goes a lot deeper than that.

It must not be forgotten that what it ultimately boils down to is a severe case of perverting the course of justice in the Milly Dowler case, and the countless other alleged cases of similar stature if the reactionary allegations of other hacks piled on by just about every other news outlet in the land are to be believed. More on that later.

By deleting voice mail messages to make way for new ones to be left, Glenn Mulcaire ultimately created false hope among the families involved, and undoubtedly changed the way in which a police investigation was played out; an investigation which now had the potential to go a completely other way. It must not be forgotten that these voice mail messages were potential evidence in that case.

For Rebekah Brooks to sanction this under her watch, makes her just as liable. It’s highly unlikely she could successfully plead ignorance, it being almost impossible to believe that the editor of such a high profile newspaper new little of the legality – or lack of – of the actions of others under her supervision.

These people need to face a criminal court, and be sentenced for the crimes they have committed. Simply ‘losing a job’ isn’t enough for them. Let’s just hope that this completely valid viewpoint is carried through on the mindsets of the individuals leading the investigations, and isn’t quickly scuppered and forgotten about following the disseverment of the News of the World. I have every hope that it won’t be, but it needs to be kept in check.

In short, it’s actually a bad thing that the News of the World is closing down on Sunday. A much better scenario would’ve been to see the paper continue to crawl along on its last legs, attempting to beat of allegation after allegation like some lone survivor in a zombie horror flick. It would’ve been entertaining, at least on a superficial level if you didn’t think about it too much, to see just how sensationalist the newspaper world could have gotten, each trying to outdo the other in some kind of sick call and response regime to the News of the World.

But alas, such is life; they took the coward’s way out.

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Mark O’Sullivan, founder of the ‘Boycott News International’ group on Facebook (which you should all ‘Like’ by the way) put it rather eloquently when he said: ‘This is not the end – News International are simply amputating the most diseased limb – the rot goes much, much further – let’s not give up the protest!’

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This new gap in the market leaves an empty void for other news sources to come in. Although unfortunately, it doesn’t look like much will be changing any time soon. Domain names for TheSunOnSunday.com have already been registered by an anonymous source, and it is highly likely that News International will simply extend the working week of their Sun newspaper to a full one. Many of the journalists and official who worked for the News of the World will come back to fill the seats of The Sun On Sunday’s offices, and we could just see a repeat set of circumstances. A morally objectionable cycle in which newspapers set themselves up on an almost temporary basis, just so they can steal secrets and report sensationalist stories, away from the threat of dents in business.

This is something a lot of people forget. The news is a business. These companies are trying to sell you their news. It’s what got us into this mess in the first place; the strive for ever more bombastic news stories, snippets of information that make you want to read more.

It’s noticeable in the way every other media outlet has shamelessly stepped up their finger pointing game towards the News of the World. Flip on any news channel, load up any news site, flick through any newspaper, and you’ll probably come across a headline along the lines of ‘Oh My God! Just Look What The News Of The World Have Probably Allegedly Hacked Now! Probably.’ Stick the word ‘allegedly’ into something and you can say anything, regardless of any sort of truth. The secret comes in the fact you’re not actually saying they did something, but just heavily implying it in a sort of ‘yeah, I reckon so’ kind of way. The sneaky, attention seeking shits.

The sheer inundation of ‘allegations’ against the New of the World should be taken with more than a pinch of salt. The papers are just trying to get you to buy them over that, but naming and shaming a newspaper on its knees at any chance they get, and what better reason for you not to buy a newspaper than a steaming shit sandwich of crime and corruption. Well, as of Sunday the News of the World will be no more, so they won’t have to. It’ll be interesting to see just how quickly these types of alleged stories disappear from our news feeds and descend into boring, uninhibited fact and fair balance. Boo.

Alex Nelson.

OPINION: Milly Dowler Phone Hacking Scandal

2011-07-05T21:12:00.001+01:00

Now, I don't usually tackle this high-brow opinion-on-current-affairs stuff (this is, after all, primarily a music blog), but today's news angered me to such a degree that I felt compelled to spend my evening, not whittling away the hours listening to unheard of indie bands, but instead putting my opinions down into words, in the hope that they might be read by some people and in turn stir up a similar feeling of utter distaste.

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Today saw a truly dark day in the ever declining standards of the British tabloid press, as allegations came to light of the supposed hacking of the voicemail messages of murdered schoolgirl Milly Dowler while she was missing in 2002.

As part of his work for the News Of The World, it is alleged that Glenn Mulcaire intercepted messages and deleted others once Millie’s voicemail inbox was full. Through this process he, purposefully or not - created false hope that Millie was in fact still alive, and had been deleting the messages herself.

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So far, the current shit-storm furore regarding the various phone hacking scandals brought about by the highly illicit actions of the News Of The World and other red-top publications, has heralded a few embarrassed payouts, but not much more. Sure, there’s been the odd jail sentence here and there, but the nation’s slammers have seen mostly high ranking press officials that no one really knew or cared about before this whole thing being flung behind their steely grey bars.

None of the stories have really captured or enraged the public like they perhaps should have, as so far only a few disgruntled celebrities (and Jude Law) have come forward to air their grievances. Once you do that, it’s a shaky moral line for the public to choose which side to stand on.

On the one hand, it’s ‘oooh, naughty newspapers! Done hacking the phones and listening to what the nice peoples is saying’, and on the other it’s ‘well, Jude Law certainly cares a lot that people have been listening to his voicemails… what’s HE got to hide?’

Of course, the real issue in question here is the legality of reporters accessing private information without as much as a whiff of consent. None of the ‘public figures’ in question have had anything bad come out from this whole thing about them, but that’s not the point…

As social media powered by the internet and sites such as Facebook and Twitter gains speed, ‘traditional’ press outlets are looking for ways to grab a readership and peak above the surface of a metaphorical sea otherwise littered with channels of information. This means the ever increasing reliance on sensationalist ‘scoops’; having the juiciest information, first. This is apparently what the British public want. All the press companies care about is providing what the British public want; because that’s what sells newspapers. This is leading to a moral veil being draped over journalist’s eyes, as they exploit anyone, by any means necessary, to get the latest shlub to gawp at a front page and splash ‘about 80p… probably’ (the best I could find, I didn’t want to go to the NotW website, not even for research purposes, and add to their online advertising revenue) on a newspaper.

In an age where anyone can walk down the street, see a shooting and break it to the world by means of their mobile phone and Twitter, the printed press and the newspapers rely not on breaking the story (by their very nature newspapers are typically not the most ‘up-to-the-minute’ news), but by providing the most succulent of titbits of information on current events - information that others may not have access to.

Of course, just as easy as it is to break a story, it’s also fairly easy with today’s technology to do some poking around and find some titbits of your own. It’s fairly nondescript stuff, and of course all above board, but even firing up your favourite search engine and directing yourself towards the website of the art gallery that murderer on the news once owned comes with its own unrewarding feeling of guilt and uneasiness. Best leave it to the ‘professionals’.

With this ease of access to information, it falls to ever escalating levels of legislation-pushing methods to retrieve the latest, and ‘phone hacking’ seems to be the audaciously ‘in’ thing at the moment. Or, moreover, the fallout from it; as technology and information retrieval backfires on the journalists and more and more information comes to light about THEM.

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So, it’s one thing to hack some footballer’s phone to see if he’s having away with some floozy in far far-flung country (and, to be fair, if anyone’s stupid enough to outright admit something like that in a voicemail message they’re asking for it), but this latest development goes beyond the pale of acceptance. Almost to an unbelievable level.

The allegations:

As part of his work for the News Of The World, Glenn Mulcaire intercepted messages and deleted others once Millie’s voicemail inbox was full. Through this process he, purposefully or not - created false hope that Millie was in fact still alive, and had been deleting the messages herself.

This is absolutely disgusting stuff. An otherwise innocent school girl, missing without a trace at the time of the allegations, having her mobile phone voice messages HACKED? Just what exactly was this guy hoping to gain? Some kind of secret key to unlocking the mysteries of the case? I highly doubt it, this guy’s a journalist. And besides, that’s what the police are for; they had that side of things covered.

Which is another thing; this surely constitutes a case of disrupting a police investigation? The truly unforgivable false hope pinned on the parents and family of the missing school girl by the supposed ‘deletion’ of her voice messages must have resonated somewhat with the officers on the case, no matter how professional and by the book they were. Hope leads to belief, and belief leads to apathy. There is almost no denying that police investigations may have been altered due to these events; even if in the tiniest extreme, it all makes a difference.

The repercussions of these hacks have and will spread far and wide, and it’s almost sickening to think how much distress one man (Glenn Mulcaire, for those that need reminding) could have caused to such a wide group of innocent people. Not only the direct families, but also families facing similar cases throughout the recent annals of the British press.

As a matter of fact, as I sat down to write this piece, it broke on the BBC News website that the parents of murdered Soham girls Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman have been visited by police investigating phone-hacking by journalists. Now, this is probably a fairly unrelated incident, but how many more families are going to have to be reminded of traumatic times of their lives, as police investigate these serious allegations further, and now that the floodgates to just what is possible through phone hacking have been opened?

For these reasons, should the allegations be proven to be true, I will not be happy until all of the perpetrators involved are safely behind bars for a very long time, and the tabloid press undertakes a huge revision of its practises and standards. This kind of information retrieval is absolutely unacceptable, and these people have the nerve to think they are somehow untouchable being in a position of perceived social stability, working for the press and delivering on the ‘facts’ that the public ‘deserve’. I’d like to see their smug grins wiped off their bastard faces.

---

I believe, sadly, that things will escalate further, as press outlets continue their eternal search for the latest gem of sensationalist guff. As technology advances, so does the capability to reverse engineer it for questionable purposes. We can only hope that the magnitude of this story wakes the general public up to the seriousness of these situations, and we are no longer ignorant to the methods behind the composure of our news stories. People should stop accepting what the read in newspapers and what they see on television. It’s one thing to say ‘don’t believe everything you read in papers’, but it takes a strong mind to actively question the morals and ethics behind their reasons for print in the first place, or the legitimacy with which the journalists acquired those details.

The fact that these allegations all took place under the supposed watchful eye of Rebekah Brooks, then News Of The World editor, now UK Chief Executive for Rupert Murdoch’s News International, is a truly scary fact, and one that should hopefully jolt a few people in their seats and allow them to question the trust in which they place the daily news grind.

Alex Nelson.

ALBUM: The Douglas Firs - Happy As A Windless Flag

2011-07-05T19:36:00.002+01:00

The worlds most out of place guitar fuzz squall, and we’re straight into the Douglas Firs’ latest recorded output effort, Happy As A Windless Flag.

Indeed, after that initial burst of scuzzery, the rest of the album is full of lazy chops and languid, showcased perfectly from the off on opening track ‘I Will Kill Again’, as loosely plucked guitar hums bounce about almost freeformly within no real time signature.

Throughout the record – from the instrumental snooze of ‘Sepulture’, to the post-rock shuffles of second act track ‘The Shadow Line’ – the pace never really picks up, but it’s just about interesting and enthralling enough for a listener to give it a full chance.

On ‘Future State’ a loose synth backing just about pokes its spindly head through a venereal haze of ether before its sweetly xylophoned crux. ‘The Quickening’ sees the band break out a set of tribal sounding drums, which quickly evolve into something of a highland sounding fling; that xylophone is ever present, and handclaps and violinish sounding instruments give the track a wholly off-kilter folk feel.

Each track comes with its own distinct feel and sense of temperamental volume and it keeps you listening for what may come next.

Happy As A Windless Flag isn’t the most exciting or heart pounding of records, but its dips and dives between genre-eschewing conventions give it enough intrigue to keep the listener holding on just about to the end of the album. Give it a go; you’re bound to find at least one track to love.

Alex Nelson.

The Douglas Firs' MySpace

ALBUM: Mexicolas - The Minerva Suite

2011-07-03T11:52:00.001+01:00

Mexicolas are just one guy. Mulit-instrumentalist, vocalist and songwriter Jamie Evans (although debut album X was recorded as a three piece in the band’s hometown of Birmingham). Jamie couldn’t play drums before this album was made, but he taught himself, locking himself away in an old abandoned Birmingham pub known as the ‘Minerva Suite’, after which this album (The Minevera Suite) is named.

Impressive stuff, I know. But all technical pretence must be discounted once you dip into the tepid middle-of-the-road stadium rock aping that’s on offer here.

It’s all well played, produced, and polished, but from the opening track ‘Lullaby’ – which meets its namesakes intention, so I guess that’s a plus – it’s all very tame and nothing new, the track harassing together bland Interpol bass lines, tired Kings Of Leon chords and irrelevant Stereophonics vocals. ‘Brightest Diamond’ adverts itself as ‘truly epic’, but in reality, it could be the opening track with a slightly different drumbeat for all I know.

And so, we flick towards the end of the album, and the ‘crushing riffs’ we are promised from the press release on ‘Fred Astaire’. Instead we are greeted with what sounds like James Walsh of Starsailor fame attempting to name check the legendary Hollywood entertainer as many times as possible over a mellow Biffy Clyro b-side. True, it does build to some pretty ‘crushing’ riffs towards the end of the track, but only for about twenty seconds before it falls back into its own insipid monotony.

Fair play to the lad though, to create a record on your own is no easy feat. And had I have been reviewing The Minerva Suite based on technical achievement this review would’ve read somewhat differently and a whole lot more positive. But I’m not; I’m focusing on the music here. And the music here is absolutely nothing new, nothing exciting, and nothing to shout about.

Sorry Jamie. And that pub sounds far to upmarket to be considered worthy.

Alex Nelson.

Mexicolas' MySpace

ALBUM: The Victorian English Gentlemens Club - Bag Of Meat

2011-07-03T10:23:00.002+01:00

Being asked to review a Victorian English Gentlemens Club record is like being asked to pass judgement on whether that 24 karat gold necklace that’s been passed down through the generations of your family for hundreds of years is actually worth anything. It’s so blazingly obvious it’s almost an insult to your writing abilities. But nevertheless, it has been asked of me. So, let’s just dive right into it, whaddya say?

The Victorian English Gentlemens Club (from Wales) have been around a good few years now. In that time they’ve seen more line-up changes than a premiership football team embroiled in press scandal. After the post-punk tinged sparse kookiness of their 2006 self-titled album, then drummer Emma Daman left to go on to form Islet, and the band grafted in two new members; Dan Lazenby and Steph Jones for the kookier still 2008 album, Love On An Oil Rig. Now, James Griffiths provides the drum duties and the band are back to a three-piece for this, their third studio album entitled: Bag Of Meat. Phew.

The Victorian English Gentlemens Club have always balanced themselves on the right side of weird. That is, without any sense of knowing that they are actually a bit odd. They don’t go ‘round lugging hurdy-gurdys everywhere they go and grimacing ecstatically as they play them – for the most part, it’s a straight up guitar, drums, bass set-up here – but there’s a sense of certain uneasiness about the whole thing, which allows them to stand out from the crowd without falling into the realms of novelty or gimmick.

Bag Of Meat is a wholly more accessible record than 2008’s Love On An Oil Rig. In the first instance, the slight departure from the post-punk tingings of yore took a few listens to wrap your ears comfortably around. Don’t get me wrong, it was highly manageable and that record is truly stellar, but it didn’t supply the first listen charms that this latest offering does.

Curtailing a slightly darker sound for this latest outing, the album finds itself trudging through pools of reverb and wobble guitar (on the psycho rock ‘n’ roll dementia of first single ‘A Conversation’), and hypnotic fuzz rhythms on album opener ‘Bag Of Meat’ (‘Sitting on the bus with a bag of meat/My parents gonna be so proud of me’ providing one of the most uncomfortable first lines of recent memory). Other album highlights include the awkward broken music box/afro-beat chant mash-up of ‘Lost My Face In A Fast Car Race’ (before it breaks into its dynamic off-kilter main crux), and the eerie mouth-organ/slack guitar dirge of ‘My Imagination Can’t Save Me Now’.

But in all honesty, this record is pure greatness. Every song is a highlight in its own way. It’s a little different from most other offerings on the make and may sit uneasily with some listeners on first listen, but stick with it, and a truly astounding record you will find. ‘Early contender for album of the year’ gets bandied around a lot these days, but hey, Bag Of Meat deserves it. And it’s June so it’s not that early. 10/10. The first 10/10 I have ever awarded.

Alex Nelson.

The Victorian English Gentlemens Club.co.uk

The Subways @ Arts Centre, Norwich 14/06/2011

2011-06-16T14:37:00.005+01:00

You can keep your ultra-hip underground bands. The bands you see in the pubs and clubs, shoe gazing their way through songs you can just about make out from the scratchy demos on their Bandcamp at their second ever gig. The bands you sort of know the songs by but are only really there because everyone else is and you’re ‘supposed’ to like that sort of thing. No, you can keep those. Established, nearly three albumed bands that have actual hits you know all the words to and can go crazy and pogo along at. Now there’s a good night out. Nothing wrong with that.

The Subways are certainly established. Two critically and commercially acclaimed albums, one of which produced by one of the biggest producers in the world (Butch Vig), and a third LP on impending release in the autumn, produced by Stephen Street (The Smiths, Blur). The Subways certainly have hits: a slew of top 40 chart wonders under their belt. And people certainly go crazy for them, as the muddied, beer spilt Arts Centre floor will testify to at the end of tonight’s rapturous set.

Indeed, the Norwich Arts Centre is certainly an intimate venue for this most internationally renowned of bands, but it would seem fitting that The Subways would play to a packed, ecstatic crowd the night the venue wins its regional heat in the NME’s search for Britain’s Best Small Venue.

They squeeze onto the stage, mostly taken up by their amplifier set up of big guitar and bass stacks, and immediately launch into the tub-thumbing tom-snare call back intro of ‘Oh Yeah’ from debut album Young For Eternity. Immediately the crowd bounce to every kick drum thump, every power chorded guitar scream, and every pained cry of teen angst.

The trio rip through a hit laden set, leaning heavily on that first album, but not being afraid to dip into second album All Or Nothing at times to deliver some choice cuttings from the LP. The Yesterday Went Too Soon era Feeder-esque pop-punk of ‘Shake! Shake!’, and the incendiary ‘Girls & Boys’, which sees the entire Arts Centre auditorium open up for a giant circle pit during both of its pentatonic rock riff refrains, proving worthy highlights.

The Welwyn Garden City trio also treat us to a selection of new tracks from the forthcoming album Money & Celebrity. The tracks are more reminiscent of the stripped back power chord rock simplicity of the first album, and the crowd continue to bop along with unabashed enthusiasm through the new tracks, many if not all of them hearing them for the first time.

The set continues to thunder past at an alarming rate, and by now many crowd members are visibly dripping with an hour’s worth of sweat. Before its finale, lead singer Billy Lunn launches himself into the throng, and is held aloft by a sea of adoring arms. He crowd surfs triumphantly to the back of the venue, perches atop the sound desk, before diving back in to return to the stage.

A victorious night for all then, as many wring out their sleeves and await the damp, sweaty trudge home, the sounds of familiarity ringing in their ears.

Alex Nelson.

Photos by Ben Wormald.

The Subways.net

ALBUM: Elysian Fields - Last Night On Earth

2011-06-13T20:42:00.002+01:00

Elysian Fields formed in 1995, based themselves in New York City, and consist of co-composers Jennifer Charles on vocals and Oren Bloedow on guitar and, erm, everything else. Their sixth full length studio album in the course of their sixteen year career comes to us in the form of Last Night On Earth.

Their music has, every now and then, been expressed as "noir rock" in many a critical music outlet, due to its sticky, sinister and peculiar inflections, be it sonically or lyrically. And that can certainly be seen here. Think of it like a mid-tempo Metric, tranquilized by their own stifling musk and taking on a sort of serene, beguiling sexiness in the process.

Now, after that brain power requiring, rambling analogy it’s on the music. From the implied curiosity of the ‘Sleepover’, to the sci-fi baiting, smoky-bar-room smooth jazz type grooves of ‘Last Night On Earth’ and everything in between, the album is a joy of chilled out eclecticism and opaque slow jams. Whether it’s the rolling snare trills and bluesy guitar stabs on the coyly explicit ‘Red Riding Hood’, or Charles’ pained cooing and the chiming acoustic blasts on mid-album track ‘Johny’, the record is full of beautifully laid back songs and hidden meaning.

Last Night On Earth is a sexy little record, but it doesn’t stomp it around your face whether you care or not, like some of today’s more pampered popsters. No, it barely knows its own sultriness, and is more subtle than air. A delicate little thing and perfect as a mood setting kind of record, let’s hope this isn’t the last night on Earth.

Alex Nelson.

Elysian Field's MySpace

Play Fest 2011 (Day Two)

2011-06-09T20:21:00.002+01:00

A throbbing head and a skinny wallet. Evan from The Kabeedies spooning you and a half an hour wait for the toilets. You know you, and everybody else around you, has just had one hell of a night at a music festival.

And so it was, day two of Play Fest 2011 was off to a shaky start, but it was nothing a few more rounds of watered down Budweiser and good music couldn’t cure. First band of the day came to us in the form of Dead Ends from Norwich in the Big Top, which was the festival’s equivalent of a second stage. Curiously, a communications barrier led to the band playing to a near empty tent, as security had not yet opened up the gates for the rest of the punters to make their way in to the arena. Luckily, the band were allowed to play a second set later on in the afternoon, but this early morning slot had a certain air of exclusivity to it for us lucky enough to sneak inside.

A promising young band, Dead Ends’ brand of technical indie jangle wasn’t anything particularly amazingly new, but it was played with a certain vigour and youthful exuberance not seen in a lot of other bands. In fact, they walk away with the coveted ‘sleeper hit of the weekend’ trophy in this reviewer’s book.

Over on the main stage, Dumfoundous were swamping their acoustic feel good tunings over the Eccles Hall field, and a rousing rendition of ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ sparks off a ludicrously early – just gone midday! – flurry of movement on the barriers, while the mid-afternoon double billing of We Can’t Dance and The Cads was a startling reminder that the Norwich music scene has had better days, as both swing their clichéd jangle-pop across the main stage, five years too late to the party gone stale in London already.

The Futureheads closed the evening with a professional grace. Speaking to lead singer Barry Hyde backstage, he reveals the band have been working on an a’cappella record, a couple of choice cuts they choose to perform amongst tonight’s hit laden set. Like Frank Turner the previous night, it’s an odd sort of feeling, the crowd’s clap-along enthusiasm being hushed out by a subtle hand gesture from the band.

The rest of the set is filled to the brim with hits from their four conventional studio albums, and focuses heavily on their 2004 self-titled debut album. They end the main portion of the set in classic style with the mass participation effort of ‘Hounds of Love’, before springing back onstage for an encore and rare airing of hundred-miles-an hour second album track ‘The Return Of The Berserker’. An odd choice to end a festival on - its clattering guitars and indistinguishable vocals not retaining the catchy pop sensibilities the ‘Heads are perhaps known for - but a thrilling one nonetheless.

As we slink off into the darkness to drunkenly talk Geordie Shore with the rest of the band, we’re left to ponder over the weekend’s festivities. You can be sure to see Playfest in the music event schedules next year, bigger and better no doubt. While it may not have had the same professional sheen that comes with money and was found within the first year of the much larger Latitude festival, for a first year grass-roots festival put on by two local promoters, it’s a feat of accomplishment. It may have had some teething problems throughout, but minor ones and that, and nothing that can’t be ironed out for future iterations. A great weekend had by all, now to just nurse the first hangover of many this summer.

Alex Nelson.

Play Fest 2011 (Day One)

2011-06-03T18:34:00.001+01:00

There were 450 music festivals in the UK last year. That’s an average of 8.65 every weekend. Take your pick, they’re everywhere. It’s the latest trendy thing to do; ‘throw a festival’, and they come with their own styles and fashions that ebb and flow through them as much as they do the bands being showcased on their stages. Ever since Latitude went above and beyond six years ago, can you think of a festival that hasn’t included a little ‘artsy’ bit? A bit where you can try and focus your gaze off some block off that panel show wander around a tent, or ogle at some lady in a ball take her clothes off? No. Didn’t think so.

It takes something quite special to make a mark in the murkily saturated ocean that is the festival scene. But Playfest, set across two school fields in Quidenham near Thetford in Norfolk no less, is the latest to have a pop. You’ll have to excuse any wandering tangents and tales of drunken hazery and artist camping larkery, but accompanying parables of debauchery and heavy fug of atmosphere (or ‘atmos’ as I shall be referring to it herein, such is its perverse planned inclusion in this piece), contribute largely to setting a good festival apart from a great one, and they certainly do that here.

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I got the call late Saturday afternoon. ‘Yeah, there’s a ticket with your name on waiting on the door, just come down and get it,’ and I immediately shrugged my already heavily hangovered shoulders. ‘Eh, I’ll go down tomorrow. I won’t be missing much.’

But then I remembered, I love music festivals.

‘I’m on my way down, save us a camping spot.’

After stumbling up to the gate unfashionably late and trudging the lengthy, lonely walk to the camp site (the artist camping sign, encouragingly, had already been edited to read ‘Pissed Artist Camping’), I indulged in a healthy few round of various drinking games, before heading into the arena for the first of my weekend’s music.

On the main stage, Dinosaur Pile-Up were doing their Nirvana meets Nirvana kinda thing, ex-pat Norwich drummer Michael Sheils giving his all for the relatively local crowds. The first few rows of the voluminous but spread crowd pogo along in unison, pausing but only briefly when a lighting problem plunges the stage into a dusky gloom, taking the wind out of DP-U’s pop-punk sails for a few songs. The crowd swarm together towards the end of the set as guitarist Matt Biglund and bassist Harry Johns head to the front rows. An eruption of arms, legs and bass guitar necks ensues, and the band depart the stage in a hail of guitar kerrangs.

Darwin Deez take to the main stage next, and that lighting problem still hasn’t been fixed. Fear not though, as the organisers have taken to placing some fitting fairy lights around the side rigging of the stage, and placing glaring temporary lights to back lit proceedings well enough. A few more fancy lights wouldn’t have gone amiss, but Darwin Deez make it their own, bouncing onstage in a flurry of cheese-pop and synchronised dance moves. The crowd respond dutifully, and are on fine form throughout, as energetically formed dance circles begin to appear everywhere. Darwin leads them and his merry band through a fairly lengthy set covering most of his 2010 self-titled album, the slack strings and lazy chords of ‘Up In The Clouds’ proving to be a healthy highlight.

After the dizzying sugar rush of Darwin Deez, it’s off to the beer tent for a quick check up on the Champions League action. As we waltz back across the site, pirate-voiced Million Dead dropout Frank Turner is up on stage blasting his patriotic parables across a field of arms aloft followers. Frank is an odd choice for a headliner; after a day of full banded noisemongery, to see a sole soul with an acoustic guitar closing the day on the masses somehow just doesn’t quite work. But it exerts just enough to get the hearty crowd (there were rumours earlier in the camp that no one was going to show up) singing along in unison, as Turner showboats his way shamelessly through his songs. He offers us GCSEs in return for crowd participation, and tells us how he bribed a fan to come to a Frank Turner gig two nights in a row by promising to play a certain song one night, forgetting, and then promising to play it the next. Except he didn’t use the word ‘bribe’.

And so, the lights go down (whatever lights are left) on the main stage for the first day of the inaugural Playfest, and it’s off to the Barlesque and Dance Tents for the evening to get thoroughly merry. Hefty hangovers are to ensue I’m sure, but we’ll just have to wait for tomorrow for that.

Alex Nelson.

LIVE: Thurston Moore @ Union Chapel, London 31/05/2011

2011-06-02T20:53:00.002+01:00

‘Oooh, ahhh’ coo the congregation, sorry, audience as they waltz through the sturdy oak (one imagines) doors of the Union Chapel. Indeed, tonight’s gig is in a strange sort of place. As beautifully ornate as it is, the Union Chapel’s bum achingly rigid pews, ‘no drinking in the chapel’ enforcements, and copious supplies of on hand ice creams and coffees make for an unlikely gig setting. But I guess this is an unlikely sort of gig.

Thurston Moore, godfather of noise and screeching feedback to many and a founding member of legendary proto-grungesters Sonic Youth, takes to the grand font backed stage armed with a sole acoustic guitar, followed by a band including a harpist, a violinist, and a jazz drummer. Something’s not quite right here.

He launches immediately into ‘Benediction’, the lead track from his recently released tender psych-folk album Demolished Thoughts, and dances his carefully finger plucked harmonics about the cavernous chamber. The kids in the Ectoslavia tees in front beam from ear to ear. Here was a hero of theirs, charming the masses with something unconventional; a delicate acoustic tune from a guitar player famed for beating his instrument with a drumstick. Don’t worry, he’s gonna break into some freaky noise break down soon, just you wait.

But still the acoustic ditties come, each more perfectly arranged and beautiful then the last. ‘Illuminine’, a plucky little tune that catches Thurston’s breathy vocals - read coyfully from a music stand full of lyric notes - and carries them away on a carpet of harp crescendos and restrained violin flurries. ‘January’, ‘Space’. More well thought out little twinkles of songs, showing stunning perfection and rigidity for someone who would normally have rolled off stage with a guitar between their legs, amps blaring at least once by now.

But that’s still to come. There’ll be a freak out soon.

But it never comes. The kids in the Ectoslavia tees in front bow their heads in silent disappointment, grips tightening around the Thurston LPs they spent their hard earned £15 on at the merch stand. The rest of us nod our heads in silent agreement. Yes man. We totally get it.

‘In Silver Rain With A Paper Key’ dips its toes into a pool of psyche-post-space-folk, before falling in up to the knee with a thrilling guitar hum howl of an outro. The closest we’ll get to an all out noise jam this evening, the diminished power of the acoustically refined instruments still manages to swell in this most grand of settings, the near perfect sound now filling each rafter with a subtle discordant cacophony.

Thurston is on chatty form tonight, he jokes between songs about how we should all spend the summer with him in Massachusetts, awaiting Judgement Day, before dedicating the next song to the God of Destruction and an as until now unknown demi-God, his violinist Samara Lubelski. He follows up with ‘Mina Loy’, a clattering open tuned highlight of a song, rounded with doom laden violins and perky rhythm chops.

‘Circulation’ heads up the first part of the set and the kids in the Ectoslavia tees in front jolt upright in their seats, as the crashing off tune strums and motorik beats resemble something of a Sonic Youth slamma jamma for the first time all night. Another, cacophonous chord-out, and the band slink off stage, only to be raptured back into the spotlight by resounding applause and cries of ‘more!’

Thurston treats us to the entirety of his latest tonight, even breaking up the pace and reading a 100% stanza count of the little beat poetry booklet to be found in the gatefold. The poetry is clunky and precocious, and treads themes to commonality a little too often, but it’s a nice surprise to hear Thurston’s California drawl explaining noise music in a characteristically exuded way.

Moore dips back into two previous albums, busting out ‘Never Day’ from Trees Outside The Academy and the ravaging ‘Psychic Hearts’ from the 1995 album of the same name, filling the Pentecostal air with daring ecclesiastically challenging expletives as he does so. One final wave and the band slink off once more, and the high mounted lights come up on the stunning decorum of the Union Chapel once more.

Not your typical Thurston Moore performance, no. But as provisionally surprising as any.

Alex Nelson.

ALBUM: Sons And Daughters - Mirror Mirror

2011-06-02T19:04:00.001+01:00

Sons And Daughters are one of those bands that could pass you by completely if you’re not careful. Admittedly, I was not careful enough, and Mirror Mirror, the band’s third album, is my long awaited introduction to them.

One of those cult bands that you always here good things about from gushing Sunday spreadsheet reviewers but never actually get round to hearing due to their relative inactivity, Sons And Daughters hail from Glasgow are made of Adele Bethel, David Gow, Ailidh Lennon and Scott Paterson. They are described by many simply as a ‘rock band’, but you’d be more than forgiven for thinking that this was not the case after listening this record through. There’s nae a prolonged power chord in sight, nor any signs of breaking out into full-on punk rock mode anytime soon.

What we have instead is a dark and brooding, electronically tinted album. The band released ‘Silver Spell’ as a free download taster and ‘statement of intent’ single a couple of months back, and what a fine statement it is. Kicking off the record in a fashionably sultry fashion; creeping synths give way to piecing Scottish twangs and sparse, bottomless drops of silence, which hang hauntingly in the air before the next snare snap awakes you from the track’s hypnotic motion, back to reality.

Things don’t falter from then on in either, the funk-sex bass line of ‘The Model’ and its splashes of clash guitar and chants of ‘do you think she’s happy?’, and the creepy crawly jitterbug reverb refrains of ‘Orion’ retaining the albums thundercloud darkness tarnish. By the time the Gang Of Four spike and ray gun string spastics of ‘Breaking Fun’ roll around, you’re in for the ride with no chance of getting out soon.

‘Don’t Look Now’s wakka-wakka nickel intro explodes into a creeping jaw drop of a guitar line, before Bethel’s Kate Bush inflected vocals and serrated knife edge guitars caress your ears dangerously like a killer with a blade. ‘Axed Actor’ announces itself to the world by way of train track accelerando pick scrapes, before the masterful production of Keith McIvor bring the pounding and drums into the room with you. Indeed, the production values on this record are impeccable, and really add the overall feel of the album. For all their asperities, the songs are full of nuanced guitar effects and pedal weirdness, but it’s all very replicable. There’s no out of place string noise, no misplaced swathe of reverb; it’s just full of very very precise, art-dark pop.

Thus in its precision, Mirror Mirror elevate itself above the masses, casting a sorry reflection across the faces of the general music population, and daring them to try harder. The strange bacon fry preface of veiled acousto thrummer ‘The Beach’ proves the band are not afraid to try new things, before a wayward drum beat picks the crux up on its off-kilter hinges and thrusts it awkwardly towards the sky, bring the record to a thrilling close.

More bands like this please; this is a definite mid-year contender for album of the 2011.

Alex Nelson.

Sons And Daughters.co.uk

Conversations with JAMES SPENCE

2011-05-30T19:47:00.002+01:00

Dischord recently took some time for a brief chat with James Spence, vocalist and keyboardist of Sheffield's hardcore hopes, Rolo Tomassi. Here's what he had to say for himself.

1. Just as a brief introduction to the band, let’s do a whip round and get everyone’s names and what they do in the band:

Hello, I'm James and play keyboards. Ed plays the drums, Joe plays the guitar, Eva does vocals and Joseph plays the bass.

2. And for anyone who hasn’t heard you (although, if they haven’t a lot of this interview won’t mean much to them) how would you describe the music of Rolo Tomassi?

It’s difficult to paint a true picture of it with a short description, but we've settled on the term 'progressive hardcore'. Equal parts prog-rock and hardcore.

3. You guys are currently sort of heading up a sweeping hardcore movement in the UK and branching out to people who would otherwise never have listened to that style of music. Why do you think it’s you as opposed to some other band? Your music isn’t in anyway compromising to a mainstream audience, if anything it’s a whole lot more abrasive than some of the other bands on the scene.

It’s an odd one and I completely agree that our music is more abrasive than a lot of our contemporaries. We've been very fortunate to receive the backing of bands like Biffy Clyro and Blood Red Shoes who both took us out on tour with them which meant we were playing to audiences who might never have heard our band otherwise. We've received a lot of support from the media which has obviously helped a lot with both Kerrang! and NME covering our band which I guess doesn't really happen for a lot of bands. I think also, it would be naïve to ignore the fact that people are more inclined to check us out because we have a female front-person.

4. Your music is wildly unpredictable, full of stop/starts, off tempo rhythms and volume changes. How do you even begin to set about writing songs like that, and would you say the process of writing and rehearsing takes any longer for you guys than a band who stick to the traditional 4/4 signatures and structures?

We start like most bands would start with an initial idea and everything is built around that. We'll chop and change and use trial and error to see what we think works with what. Sometimes songs can come together quickly and sometimes they take longer to develop. There were riffs we used on Cosmology that had been written pre-Hysterics. I personally think writing a good 4/4 traditional pop-song is far more difficult than writing the kind of music we make but obviously, we have to rehearse the hell out of what we do to make sure its razor sharp and really tight, otherwise the time signatures and changes would totally lose their impact.

5. You recently played a gig at the Norwich Arts Centre, a fairly quaint little venue in the hull of an old church. The Arts Centre doesn’t usually put on gigs for bands of your ‘sort’ (Norwich Waterfront is more for those), opting more towards indie rock and infinitely more sedate folk gigs. Do you think venues with strong identities (i.e. a venue renowned for its specialism in a certain style of music) are important, or do you think cross breeding with other genres should be encouraged as much as possible?

On our recent UK tour we specifically chose the cities and venues we played in. I'd been told about what a great venue Norwich Arts Centre was and was keen to see it. It didn't disappoint! Having played all the 'rock' toilets over the years, now we have the opportunity to play venues like the Arts Centre we will. I think venues with identities are important but that should be down to the aesthetic of the venue, not the association that is made with the style of music. I'd love it if we could play all our shows in churches.

6. In light of that, if you could play just three venues for the rest of your life (they’re all sold out shows obviously), which would you choose?

Union Chapel in London for a start. I saw Owen Pallett play there and it was stunning. It’s a huge church in North London. If they extended the stage slightly, The Deaf Institute in Manchester is an amazing venue. Probably the best of its size in the UK. And if I'm allowed to be fantastical, Brixton Academy. Purely on the scale of it.

7. One question I’ve always wanted to ask: How do you build up the courage to scream like that when recording? I can see where, onstage, you would feed off the energy of the crowd etc., are ‘in the moment’ so to speak. But surely it’s different when standing on your own recording in a little sound booth? Unless you guys record all your stuff live in a room together, in which case it’s a bit more understandable.

We track drums with everyone playing instrumentally together and then people re-record their own parts individually. It is a different feeling entirely when you're alone in a booth screaming along to a track that's coming in through headphones but as long as the music is loud enough, it’s never awkward or difficult to build up courage.

8. You’re currently touring around the UK and Europe, any memorable nights from recent show? Stories to share?

We head to Europe for a week next week so no stories from there yet but on the UK tour we just did our bassist Joseph slept at Steve Coogan's house in Brighton. Unfortunately he wasn't in.

9. With current rarities/b-sides double disc collection Eternal Youth out on release, have your recent set lists seen some appearances from those rare tracks? Have you gone back into the rehearsal rooms to dig out some old favourites and if so, how has that felt?

We tried playing through a bunch of older tracks in practice but a lot of them just didn't really work with the set we wanted to play. From the older material, we played 'Fuck The Pleasantries, Let’s Rock' which was cool. Eternal Youth also has the first post-Cosmology tracks on it and we played all of those.

10. Once you guys have finished touring around for this release, will you be heading back to the studio to start work on a ‘proper’ Rolo Tomassi album? When can we expect your next full on release?

We've been working on new material since the start of the year. It’s gradually coming together and we're in no rush to get it done. I think we're all still a bit surprised we've actually gotten as far as writing a third album so we want to take our time and make sure its something worth releasing rather than giving ourselves a specific period of time to get something done. I would hope we'd be in the studio by the end of the year but it entirely depends on how writing progresses. I would guestimate that a new record will be out in the first half of 2012.

11. Festival season is very nearly upon us, and with so many events over the summer weekends, you guys must be scheduled to rip up a few stages. Which summer festivals are you looking forward to this year?

I'm excited for Sonisphere because of how great the line-up is. Dour Festival in Belgium also has some great bands playing this year and we did that back in 2009 so it'll be nice to go back. Also, we're curating the New Music Stage at Tramlines in Sheffield again this year which will be a lot of fun. It’s a free city-wide festival in its third year and we've been privileged to have been involved right from the first year until now.

12. And finally, which bands currently doing the round would you recommend to our readers, perhaps bands you hope to catch during downtime over the summer?

I’m hoping to catch Touche Amore and La Dispute when they tour the UK. I’m thoroughly excited about both those bands and I missed Touche Amore when they played here last year because we were in Europe. I'd highly recommend checking them out!

Cheers James!

Alex Nelson.

Rolo Tomassi's MySpace

Thanks to Ian Cheek at Suite 3 Press

Photo by Alex Batten

ALBUM: Deerhoof - Milk Man (Remastered)

2011-05-24T19:33:00.002+01:00

If there was one album that one ripe for a remastering it was Deerhoof’s Milk Man. No, not following? Well, that’s understandable; it was pretty high in fidelity back on its initial release. Maybe it’s been remastered to celebrate it landmark, erm… seven year anniversary? Or the band’s 17^th year active?! Hmm. Still, maybe not…

Well, what ever the reason, the diehard obscuro fan boys over at ATP have only gone and done it, and remastered the masterfully unreasoned madness of Deerhoof’s sixth studio album, which exploded onto the world in a haze of rapid fire guitar oddities and grungy, twisted alternative rock tick points.

Essentially a concept album about the ‘Milk Man’ shown on the cover of the album - created by Japanese artist Ken Kagami, a friend of the band – the album bridges an essential gap between the distorted, unhinged shape-shifting chaos of early Deerhoof, and the now not so distorted, unhinged shape-shifting chaos of latter day Deerhoof. That is to say, the cacophonic clatter of the dissonant guitars of those early releases exists here in a much more thoughtful form, and is all the better for it. The clashing outro notes of ‘Giga Dance’ still pander to all your detuned needs, but instead of tearing a whole through your speaker cones, they are intertwined with the rest of the track wilfully, a sort of organ fuelled slithery swamp rocker of song.

The already adroit gentle guitar strikes of album opener and title track ‘Milk Man’ sound ever more consummate after a second run through the mixing desk, before exploding into bursts of the most lush sounding compressed post-mix bass sound you ever did hear. The drum machine bonk of ‘Desaparecere’ is one of only a handful of rare moments on this record where Deerhoof drift off into the needlessly ‘art-for-art’s-sake’ experimentalism the saturated their latest release Deerhoof Vs. Evil, as loungey pianos and jack plug pop permeate between singer Satomi Matsuzaki’s stylistically coy vocals.

The rest of the album though, is filled with now classic Deerhoof tracks, at first appearing decidedly alt. rock, before morphing into a mish-mash of textures, timbres, and time signatures. The spasmodic stabs of discordant strings on the pounding ‘Rainbow Silhouette Of The Milky Rain’, and the one note chord bounce of ‘C’ keep you guessing throughout, never letting up their guard and threatening to explode into something different altogether at any moment.

Album closer ‘New Sneakers’ bring the record to a sombre end, Satomi Matsuzaki’s decidedly bewitching vocals complimenting the funeral dirge of organ pipes and playful piano passes; but it’s the perfect comedown from the sugar rush cadence of the preceding thirty minutes of so that have bandied about you ears.

We’re still at odds to decided just exactly why this album was remastered in the first place, but we’re never one to complain about an already great record being made to sound even better, and that’s certainly the case with Milk Man. Inclusion of a second disc of rarities and b-sides wouldn’t have gone amiss, such is the fashion these days, but aside from Deerhoof’s earlier sound system ripping albums, this is certainly up there with the best of their work and one of the most accessible albums from their back catalogue. A must for fans, and a must try for newcomers.

Alex Nelson.

Deerhoof's MySpace

ALBUM: Art Brut - Brilliant! Tragic!

2011-05-23T22:12:00.002+01:00

Art Brut occupy one of the most delicately balanced musical middle grounds of all time. One acerbic rhyme too far and Eddie Argos’ topic spanning prose descends into self-parody, lampooning the band into the dangerously gauche realms of musical comedy (ew, yuck). One acerbic rhyme too few, and all the fun of the music is sucked away into a void of standard rock ‘n’ roll guitars and tired indie tunage.

As it stands Argos’ lyrics are perfectly balanced to raise a wry smile, without stepping too far from the confounds of reality so as to be considered pastiche. It’s knowingly frank, mordant and witty yes, but only to those with a profound knowledge and love for music in general; the young hopefuls with stars in their eyes travelling to a gig with their band, a crappy old rehearsal tape on the stereo and a desire to show your friends what they’re ‘really like’ (‘Clever Clever Jazz’), or the fan boys defending their unabashed admiration for questionable rock stars (‘Axel Rose’). To the average passer by it may just come across as an odd man talking about things, and that’s exactly why we love Art Brut. These are definitely songs for lovers (of music), about lovers (of music), made by lovers (of music).

The band’s fourth album, Brilliant! Tragic! never strays far from the well worn and beaten path of Art Brut’s music, but that’s wholly for the best. Produced by Black Francis - he of The Pixies fame - the producer never puts a trademark stamp on the record (although, the sparse snare snaps and repeating bass throb of ‘Is Dog Eared’ may hint towards the Bossanova-era percussions of ‘Is She Weird’), but that was never the purpose. The focus here is obviously on Argos’ wonderfully crafted, delivered this time around not always in his usual flat tones, but in certain cases (the helpfully contextual ‘Sexy Sometimes’), breathily… almost sexily… sung.

Choice lines this time around include ‘I still see every schoolboy crush as a missed opportunity/I want to turn up at their house to see if they remember me’ amongst the not-at-all-creepy schoolyard reminiscing of ‘Martin Kemp Welch Five A-Side Football Rules!’, and ‘I didn’t want the weekend to be over/stood at the cash point trying to look sober’ on the altogether more grown up one night fling ramblings of ‘Lost Weekend’.

There’s more to it than just the words though and the ping-pong harmonic foreplay of ‘Bad Comedian’ shows the meaner side to guitarist Ian Catskilkin’s fingers, and the gutturally ghostly gag reflex backing vocals debuted by bassist Freddy Feedback add a haunting quality to album closer ‘Sealand’ (about, of course, The Principality of Sealand) reveal the rest of the band have just as much to contribute to the record.

As much as a good thing just being another Art Brut record is, Brilliant! Tragic! is just another Art Brut record. It’s hard to pick out any future set-list hits or cult classics from this latest batch of tunes, but it will undoubtedly be lapped up by fans of Eddie Argos, Ian Catskilkin, Jasper "Jeff" Future, Freddy Feedback, and Mikey Breye for its fun sense of vigour and recaptured youth. And so it should be.

Alex Nelson.

Art Brut.org

ALBUM: Friendly Fires - Pala

2011-05-17T21:48:00.002+01:00

Friendly Fires burst onto the scene in 2007 and quickly became a band more known for their sweat inducing samba tinged sky-pop and lead singer Ed Macfarlane’s slithery snake hip salsa than the music itself. The St. Albans trio’s ethereally shoegaze inspired pop dripped with cowbell and dance sensibilities, and transported them to a secure position in the music loving population’s consciousness.

2011 sees them launch the curiously titled Pala unto the world, and it’s a record that continues their high energy trend. The vigour and liveliness is apparent throughout the album; through the Daft Punk intro of ‘Blue Cassette’, to the hypnotically climbing guitar weaves of lead single ‘Live Those Days Tonight’, right back through the French electro inspired synth arpeggios of ‘Running Away’. It’s not exactly rocket science, nor will it have you clamouring for more, but it’s a decent record of grooves and ruts that covers just about every sub sect of dance out there.

There’s the aforementioned French electro, plus the full on techno timbre of ‘Hawaiian Air’, and heck, even old skool Compton rap gets a nod in the form of the dripping wah-wah synths of ‘Hurting’. But despite all these various reference points, a few tracks are hard to define from their counterparts on 2008’s self titled debut album; the chorus of ‘Blue Cassette’ is so similar to that of early single ‘Paris’, it may as well have been lifted and sampled directly from that track, and the gracious vocal cooing of ‘Pull Me Back To Earth’ isn’t anything the band haven’t done before.

The hunking fuzz-funk bass of the Justice aping ‘True Love’ reaches a mid-album high, and the and the insectoid Foals-alike guitars of the sarcastic handclap-athon that is title track ‘Pala’ provides the record with a blissed out space anthem of a track. Album closer ‘Helpless’ announces itself to the world in a flurry of keys, before drifting off to a place of snoozy vocal meanderings and falsetto experimentations.

This record is unlikely to propel Friendly Fires to anywhere higher in the musical stratosphere, but they’re at that much sought after ‘goldilocks’ level where expectation isn’t too high but they can still consistently deliver a solid (enough) record. The sort of band destined to play mid-afternoon festival slots forever, which is by no means a bad gig. They won’t lose any fans over Pala, but I suspect they won’t be gaining too many either.

Alex Nelson.

Friendly Fires.com

LIVE: Anna Calvi + Grouplove + The History Of Apple Pie @ Waterfront, Norwich 15/05/2011

2011-05-17T15:55:00.003+01:00

The NME Radar Tour rolls around but twice a year, and while, for better or worse, you may be unlikely to ever hear from some of the obscuro acts playing ever again, it’s usually a sneaky peak into what will be tickling the airwaves in the months and years to come. You’ve heard this spiel about how great the NME tours are in every other review you’ve read about them, so I’m just gonna get on to talking about the music.

NME tours are also notably infamous for their early door openings and stage times, and it is a combination of this plus the usual early Sunday night finish that puts a skew on the perception of this reviewer’s usually clued in gig-going mind. This leads to me (and most of the rest of the final population of the room; the Waterfront is decidedly deserted to start) missing much of first band The History Of Apple Pie’s set and strolling in unfashionably late just as they launch into their final track. A squall of controlled feedback fills the room as the band fall into their slacker drone thrum, a techy guitarist gazes shoeward and lets his floppy hair do the talking as he takes to his pedal board, Johnny Greenwood style, to twiddle knobs and slam switches. It’s flailing, riveting stuff, and the band slink off into the darkness from whence they came.

Next up a LA’s Grouplove. B ringing even more floppy hair then The History Of Apple Pie, lead singer Christian Zucconi judders around to the quintet’s rousing Arcade Fire-meets-Polyphonic Spree shtick, bashing at his guitar and whipping his hair to the noisier moments, and whispering through the quieter ones as they reveal the audiences utter concentration. The rest of the band follow suit, throwing smiles around left right and centre as they twist and turn to their joyous country tinged indie rock lifted from their current self-titled EP; the lost in translation feel-good times and vocal acrobatics of ‘Naked Kids’ and juxtaposing with the industrial drumbeat hum and relative calm of ‘Gold Coast’. While their western licks may be too much for some, live they are something of a blissful spectacle. Set closer ‘Colours’ proves to be the standout track of the night, as oddly rhythmed vocals give way to crashing cymbals and an uplifting chorus, reminiscent of Cage The Elephant’s ‘Shake Me Down’.

Anna Calvi rounds off the evening, taking to the stage and plucking into the classically trained ambience and interestingly strummed chords of ‘Rider To The Sea’, before an imposing drumbeat shatters the atmosphere in favour of the spiky guitar flourishes of ‘No More Words’ and the rest of her relatively short set. She captivates her audience from the off, her throbbing voice and the wealth of multi-instrumentalists around her creating a cacophony of sounds as she plods through most of this year’s self-titled album, plus an Elvis cover or two for good measure. She’s battling an injured arm this evening, and so guitar duties are handed over to a touring musician for the most part and we miss out on that wholly unique style of guitar playing we’ve been so promised over the months.

Despite the engagement of the audience, the whole thing feels a bit slow. It’s a bit of a strange pick for a magazine who’ve held the reigns over bright young upstarts creating new and exciting music for so long to go with an artist that sounds like something you might find in your Granddad’s record collection, but nevertheless the songs are fraughtly performed and Ms. Calvi is obviously a highly talented musician.

NME have once again given us a glimpse into what our musical futures may hold and, for the most part, it is an exciting, progressive step forward.

Alex Nelson.

The History Of Apple Pie's MySpace

Grouplove Music.com

Anna Calvi.co.uk

Thanks to Paul Sandell @ Domino Records

VIDEO GAMES: Gears Of War 3 Beta

2011-05-10T20:12:00.000+01:00

Multiplayer. That strange domain of video games where everything that is currently driving the medium forward as an art form towards the respect of the mainstream (narrative, character development etc.) is removed and the genre is boiled down to its core components; the repetitive combat and overtly testosterone fuelled competitiveness harking back to gaming’s more prehistoric roots.

Nevertheless, with the advent of games like the Call Of Duty series and Halo: Reach delivering superb multiplayer packages alongside their stellar solo campaigns, the trend for developers to focus just as much on the multiplayer side of things (sometimes more) continues to grow, and Gears Of War seems to be the next series taking the plunge.

With an already established multiplayer fan base from the first two games, for the third the developers Epic felt they needed to step things up a bit for the hordes, and when their release window was delayed by Microsoft to fit in with the lucrative pre-Christmas market, they took the opportunity to launch a beta to refine their product even further.

Epic Games are pretty well represented in the world of multiplayer gaming. They made their initial name with the amazingly well crafted Unreal Tournament series in the early noughties, a fun and slightly artistically licensed vision of televisual entertainment gone bad replete with over the top gore and an announcer’s booming voice. But Gears of War is an altogether different game.

A game for the hardest of the hardcore, it sees a group of gritty future space marines (the Gears of the title) fighting off a seemingly never-ending horde of an alien race known as the Locust. The single player portions of the games take place over increasingly difficult levels, where effective use of cover is the key to success as groundbreaking visuals and Hollywood style set-pieces bring the coarse harshness of the developer’s world of Sera, an Earth-like planet which serves as the backdrop for the story, to life.

This overarching grittiness is retained for the multiplayer, and it’s a hard game to crack. Gears Of War picks up the ‘rich get richer’ method of keeping players on to play more by rewarding good performance with perks and new weapons which make your matches an even more one sided affair in you favour and runs with it because hey, it worked for Call Of Duty, so it’ll work for Gears Of War too. Probably.

This means that unless you have been playing the beta from day one, chances are you won’t last two minutes before having your character blown to mush by a wildly misjudged Sawed Off Shotgun shot, one of the new weapons for the beta which works just as much as a melee weapon due to its extremely close range and one hit kill tendencies. Epic claim they have introduced new features to make Gears 3’s multiplayer that much more accessible to new players but, just like the first two games, it seems to be a multiplayer based on cheap tricks more than anything else.

You have to literally watch every angle as you traverse the three maps on offer here – Thrashball, Old Town and Checkout – or face being pulverised at the hands of a Digger Launcher (another new weapon that launches explosives underground and thus under that all important cover you’re hiding behind before popping up and exploding in your face), or fried by a one shot (does exactly what it says on the tin: one shot, you’re dead). There’s so much to keep your eye on here it can feel totally overwhelming at times.

This means that without the spectacle of the high octane action pieces of the single player campaign, the multiplayer combat can become repetitive and at most times, frustrating, as you think you’ve got someone pinned down, only to find some more experienced player who knows the map better has been following you for the best part of ten minutes and has drawn their Sawed Off in good time, ready to blast you to bloody bits.

The grainy trimmings and ‘hoo-ah’ attitude of the whole thing only serve to frustrate you further, making you feel an idiot and all small like for not being able to somehow psychically predict that a frag grenade an enemy has just implanted into a wall around the next corner is about to go off in your fizzog. This is a game so far up its own backside you feel like ripping the disc out of your tray and flinging it out of the window just to teach it a lesson.

The graphics on this latest outing for the Gears franchise so far are, disappointingly, not much of a step up from anything we’ve seen on the 360 before. The Gears of War series is known for its amazing graphics just as much as it is anything else, but we think this is a sign of the console’s age more than anything else, and the fact it is starting to reach the edge of its technological boundaries.

Let’s hope Epic is spending just as much time refining the single player portion of the game because the first two campaigns of the series have been all kinds of awesome. Recent games like the war-in-your-back garden disappointment of Homefront have shown that the current trend of multiplayer madness is in danger of tainting the fate of single player gaming altogether as developers neglect their story modes.

BUT this is just a beta, and the whole point of a beta is to iron out any creases. So let’s just hope Epic will stick to their promise of listening to community feedback just as much as they say they will. The weighting of the weapons will surely be balanced a little better in the finished product, and maybe they’re not even introducing the features for new players until the official release date of 20^th September in the UK.

Until then, I’m going to try and refine my charged lancer run before I… oh, where did HE COME FROM. What a cheap move. No, I think I’ll play De Blob or something. Something nice.

Alex Nelson.

Gears Of War.com

ALBUM: Orwell - Continental

2011-05-10T16:45:00.000+01:00

With a band name like Orwell, and a strange monochrome one man marching band with a THING on its head on the cover, you’d be expecting from Continental an oppressive overtone similar to that of the famed master of pessimistic prophetic novellas.

Well, you’d be wrong, as Orwell’s music is a thing of pleasantries from the opening disco bloops and New Young Pony Club-esque bass of album opener ‘Continental’. Indeed, the vocals are so soft and ear caressing their only interesting trait is their impressively translated German break mid song (the band themselves are French). The playful synth chimes of ‘On This Brightful Day’ give way to loungey musak, and the gentle string stroke throb of ‘The Wife, The Battlefield’ is part late Beatles, part mellow Beck.

The failing Morse code electrics of ‘Always’ hint towards a semi-social comment on the state of the nation’s communication systems and how we’re all one day going to be the slaves of the mobile phone networks that govern us with their dictatorial call packages and data restrictions, but not before a subtle swell of strings comes in to ruin it all and we’re back to business as usual, bouncing along to plucked acoustic guitars in the most swaying of fashion.

Continental is not an uneasy listening compilation of doomy drone rock or oppressive European post-punk, it is totally sunny in its disposition. To put it down because of preconceptions would be a disservice to the music and my writing ability in general. But it isn’t an album that is going to grab anyone soon. The fact it has no darkness to it launches it into a category marked ‘uninteresting’, and it doesn’t feel like anything here is new.

Alex Nelson.

Orwell Music.com