Speaker Your Mind

LIVE REVIEW: A Genuine Freakshow - Bush Hall - 25.02.2010

2010-02-26T16:08:00.001Z

As I made my way around Shepherd's Bush Green, en route to Bush Hall, it was throwing it down. It'd been raining for what seemed like all day and I bemoaned another typically damp and cold February. On arrival at the venue it was clear that the inclement weather had dampened the clothes but not the spirits of those who'd braved the journey out.

Firstly, a quick sentence or two about our four support acts of the night. Our Lost Infantry's young, fiery, guitar-driven indie follows in the footsteps of the likes of We Were Promised Jetpacks. They're not quite there yet but they're not that far away either. Next, Bright Spark Destroyer took to the stage. It's an odd thing to say that a band can be overtly nice but that's what happened here. Drawing influence from the late Radiohead should be a good thing but, with wide-eyes and fixed smiles, what could be interesting on record falls a little short of the mark live.

The Gadsdens

Following were The Gadsdens . During their set my girlfriend summed them up pretty well: "They're like Maroon 5, who are obviously shit. But, like Maroon 5, there's also something undeniably catchy about them."

After Our Lost Infantry's gaggle of fans/friends (easily the largest of the night -- for some reason) vacated the area in front of the stage for either the bar or the door it was the turn of A Genuine Freakshow. More fool those who, having fulfilled mates' duties, decided to leave.

As a slight, bespeckled Timothy Sutcliffe and co. took to the stage they held an intangible confidence that marked them out tonight's first 'proper' band. Their pacy, purposeful set was full of energy, menace and confidence. With a line-up including violin, cello and trumpet -- alongside the staple guitar, drums, bass -- it's refreshing to see that takes these extra instruments further than just atmospheric padding -- here they often lead melody with guitars left to create beds of distortion, atmosphere or tremolo picked chaos. When you Sutcliffe's vocals to the mix -- which err on the acrobatic -- the band's sound brings to mind the likes of Grammatics or Mew.

Tonight's performance is solid, as is the material. With a tour currently underway it should only be a matter of time before A Genuine Freakshow fly above the radar.

If you head over to A Genuine Freakshow's MySpace you can download a four-track EP for free.

REVIEW: Not Squares - Asylum

2010-02-02T20:11:00.002Z

'Asylum', Not Squares' debut single, opens with a punch right in your ears delivered by a fist full of drums. Then, before you've had a chance to clear the stars orbiting your head, you're placed in the middle of dance floor and instructed to do one thing and one thing only: dance fucker!

Filthy bass, frenetic drums and angular guitar riffs propel this thrash disco beast out of the blocks at a pace that doesn't let up until its four and a half minutes have expired and you're finding yourself short of breath, the only respite being a breakdown of anthemic chanting and four to the floor kick drum.
Asylum gets a digital release on The Richter Collective on March 1st.

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REVIEW: Midlake - The Courage Of Others

2010-02-02T20:00:00.000Z

It’s been four years since Texan five-piece Midlake released The Trials of Van Occupanther, which, in my opinion (and with no hint of hyperbole) is a masterpiece. Evocative imagery of woodland life, travel and adversity wrapped around a blend of Fleetwood Mac soft rock (not a dirty word), Crosby Stills and Nash harmonies and the analogue synthesizers that characterised their debut. Everything about the album was pitch-perfect; the guitar solo on ‘Head Home’, the simple-yet-beautiful two-chord wonder of ‘Van Occupanter’ – it was the complete package.

Opening with lead single ‘Acts of Man’ (albeit a limited to 500 vinyl copies single), The Courage of Others hits the ground, well, walking. Delicately played acoustic guitar lines trade melodies as Tim Smith sings “If all that grows starts to fade, starts to falter, let me inside not to wake.” Instantly the tone of what’s to come is set; the themes of nature, earth and simple times are all still present but are this time underpinned with a melancholy.

This idea of the affects of man seems to run through the core of The Courage of Others. As Smith sings almost entirely in the first person, a nameless protagonist weaves tales about the changing of the seasons, “As spring is made alive the winter dies,” death, “I will take my rest with all creatures who dwell under the smallest of green,” and the fate of future generations, “As their fortune appears it begins to die.” Even on the John Denver-aping ‘Fortune’ everything is delivered with a dejected, almost defeated, delivery which only goes to add to the sombre tone that permeates throughout.

When setting the pitch of a record, instant gratification versus reward-through-investment is always a tricky one. While familiarity may lead to contempt so too can a lack of satisfaction, and this is something Midlake are treading close to here. The problem – if you can call it a problem – is that things never really get going. The whole affair is played out at such measured pace and volume that it’s easy to let it pass you by. On the few exceptions where things do pick up (‘The Horn’, ‘Winter Dies’, ‘Bring Down’) it almost sounds as if the band are playing like their lives depended on it – but someone only turned the amps up to six. Bass lines still flourish with all the flamboyance of a lead guitar, guitars wrestle to keep wayward distortion at bay and vocals layer to create blankets of warmth, yet it still fails to make to stop you in your tracks.

That said, this is still a very accomplished effort. Maybe with expectations so high and bars already raised it’s hard to stomach anything other than The Trials of Van Occupanther 2. Judging The Courage of Others on its own merits, the album does come alive when it’s afforded a little time and attention. Midlake are still masters of finding the perfect sounds and arrangements for everything they do – it’s almost taken for granted. Where the Courage of Others may not pack as much punch as its predecessor, those who invest the time to listen and discover the record’s intricacies will soon find that there’s more on offer than first meets the ear.

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REVIEW: Yeti Lane - Yeti Lane

2010-02-02T19:55:00.001Z

Strapping on a pair of expensive headphones and queuing up the latest in challenging, avant-garde art noise for some gratuitous chin stroking is all well and good but, just sometimes, there’s nothing wrong with succumbing to the merits of a little status quo (note the lack of capitals and pony tails). What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned, guitar-based, honest as the day is long, melody-laden record these days eh? Back in the day (“the day” being one of history’s most referenced eras) the music industry used to thrive on hits. The Hit Factory, the Hit Parade, Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick; when 45s, cassettes and CD singles were still big business the Pop Song was king. Enter: Yeti Lane.

Before Yeti Lane there was Cyann & Ben. The Parisian, Gooom Disques-signed four-piece released three albums of folk-inflected space-rock between 2004 and ‘06, and then, while album four was under way, Cyann quit forcing Ben, LoAc and Charlie to make a fresh start with Yeti Lane. And not only a fresh start: a fresh sound. While elements of that “folk-infected space-rock” are still present, Yeti Lane’s self-titled debut is a hot slice of melody-laden, in your face, guitar pop.

Lead single ‘Lonesome George’ (an allegorical tale based upon the plight the last surviving Pinta Island tortoise – obviously) is a twee pop adrenaline shot to the face. Spastic synths and frenetic drums serve as the back-bone to a track which is so perennially chipper Stuart Murdoch would be proud. The rest of the album plays out at a much more measured, charming pace. Up-front, laid back rhythms and scratchy, often dissonant, guitars give Yeti Lane a slacker-pop edge which will no doubt bring a lot of Pavement comparisons to mind. However, don’t put all your pigeons in one hole.

Not forgetting that in a past life the members assembled were responsible for eight-minute psychedelic symphonies, you’ll often find yourself drenched in lush; more often than not we turn the corner into shoegaze-meets-The Velvet Underground. ‘Black Soul’ wouldn’t sound out of place on Spirit Of Eden, ‘Think It’s Done’ manages to come off like (painful comparative reference coming up) The Whitest Boy Alive covering Radiohead’s ‘House Of Cards’, and Only One Look is dark, tribal and brooding.

While the majority of tracks here are temperate, even nonchalant in their delivery, Yeti Lane’s debut manages to feel unashamedly buoyant and exciting. With so many hooks and melodies, riffs and themes running through ten tracks Yeti Lane have produced the first great indie-pop record of 2010.

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REVIEW: The Micragirls - Wild Girl Walk

2010-02-02T19:51:00.000Z

Before the needle hits the record there are always a few tell-tale signs of what lies in wait on that circle of wax / shiny metal / download. When it comes to Micragirls’ second LP, Wild Girl Walk, these indicators are two-fold. The first comes from the artwork: three girls – looking like something from a horror-show version of the Powerpuff Girls – strut through a forest in high heels. Second from a cursory glance at the track listing: only five of the twelve tracks on offer break the 2 minute 30 seconds mark, with four not even managing 120 seconds. So, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it stuff then!

Helsinki’s Micragirls’ sound is raw, primitive and ramshackle; an assault of Adams Family one finger keyboard lines, thrashed drums and razor-cut guitar steeped in 60s nostalgia. Carefully executed dynamics, weaving guitar lines and poured over production are nowhere to be seen. Where most would have their drummer count the band in with a “1-2-3-4…” you get the impression that Micragirls are probably more in favour of an “On your marks. Get set. GO!!” approach. Whoever gets to the end first, wins.

Helping you recover from the barrage of speedy noise – the Jon Spencer-featuring ‘Out of Tune’, the Wipeout-riffing ‘Hit-and-Miss!’, and aptly-titled ‘Girl Go Crazy’ to name but a few – Wild Girl Walk offers up a couple of tempered moments which help to make the album more palatable. ‘Summer’s Gone’ and ‘Story of Two’ drop the tempo and the fuzz for a three-minute jangle that is probably as close as Micragirls come to a ballad. Fusing the two sides together is album highlight, ‘Electric Chair Twist’. Thick distortion trudges under an infectious keyboard line as sound effects and lyrics become one: “Electric chair twizzzzzzzzt” and then, of course, all hell breaks loose.

With psychedelic keyboard lines, fuzz guitars and more enthusiasm than a kid at Christmas, it’s hard not to get wrapped up in Micragirls’ world. It may not be the most groundbreaking album you’ll hear this year, but that’s not always the point, is it.

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REVIEW: Thus:Owls - Cardiac Malformations

2010-02-02T19:46:00.000Z

It seems that, when it comes to music, the Swedes can do no wrong; while the UK and America fight amongst themselves for the crown of popular music, our continental neighbours are modestly producing some of the finest records of recent times – if you care to turn an ear in their direction. Arriving to further cement this idea are Thus:Owls.

Eclectic in their make up, the ensemble of Thus:Owls started life with Erika Alexandersson, whose CV includes a Swedish Grammy nomination, being one half of the free/improv/electronic band The Moth, and also duties in both Loney Dear and Patrick Watson’s touring line-up. Also present are Cecilia Persson (previously of progressive jazz group Paavo), Martin Höper, Ola Hultgren (Loney Dear), and Montréal’s Simon Angell, a key member with Patrick Watson. Between them they’ve created one of the most dazzling, beguiling and (cliché alert) achingly beautiful records these ears have heard in a long time: Cardiac Malformations.

The first and most arresting strike the album delivers is Erika Alexandersson’s exquisite voice: strong yet fragile, clear yet husky. However, her adorable timbre is twisted before the record’s first line even reaches its conclusion: “My thoughts ain’t lovely, I’m all false modesty” she pines. In cinema, children in horror are used to make an audience feel uneasy; the presence of evil in something so innocent being unnatural, disconcerting. The same could be said of Alexandersson’s voice. Across the record she deploys it with great affect – be it as choral washes of backing vocals, genuinely unnerving guttural screams or fork-tongued beat poetry – never losing sight of her surroundings.

Thus:Owls have taken the adage “It’s not what you play, it’s what you don’t play” and run with it. The bulk of Cardiac Malformations is comprised of delicate compositions, every last note and beat seemingly pored over until everything is perfect. Brass and strings dance with bass and drums; piano lines fall in and out of consciousness. Accepted musical convention and construction is pushed aside in the quest for mood and feel. I’ve not laid ears on anything so perfectly pitched and executed since Efterklang’s Parades.

There are also turns for Alexandersson and Persson’s jazz backgrounds in ‘Sometimes’ and ‘A Volcano in My Chest’. The former builds on upright bass, handclap percussion and subtle off-beat piano before dropping into an honestly toned confession: “I wanted to sing from my heart on your birthday party.” The latter, a beat poem, recounts the journey home after a waking up in a bed that’s not your own: “I feel very dressed up in this crowed on its way to work.”

The cinematic parallels go further than just a vocal comparison to the tone of The Omen: as vocals and music combine, images form. On ‘The Sun Is Burning Our Skin’ a high-pitched, sparse piano line is played almost at random, a vibraphone doing it’s best to mimic its erratic moves. As Alexandersson enters with “The sun is burning our skin, while we’re on your balcony,” it’s hard not to imaging the piano sunlight glinting, dancing on water.
Cardiac Malformations is a record out there on its own. It belies categorisation or comparison. It’s not always an easy listen – at times desperately sad, at times genuinely unsettling – but, as it slowly reveals itself Thus:Owls’ debut becomes so visceral, so tangible, you can almost see it.

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REVIEW: Royal Bangs - Let It Beep

2010-02-02T19:39:00.000Z

It’s funny how certain times of the year demand a certain type of release. It’s not uncommon that you listen to a record and think: “If this had come out six months ago it could easily have been the soundtrack to my summer/winter/holiday/whatever.” Records are even adorned with such adjectives as ’summery’ and ‘wintery’, to only further cement the idea that they are best digested when served along side the appropriate climate. If that’s the case then let it be said that Royal Bangs‘ Let It Bleepis a perfect record for this time of year. Don’t let that fool you into thinking that it’s awash with minimalist electronics and glacial landscapes; this my friends is the record you’re going to get crazy drunk to. Shit yeah.

Picked up by The Black Keys’ Patrick Carney, who signed them to his Audio Eagle label in the US, Knoxville’s Royal Bangs are a riot. They let loose a cacophony of frenetic drums (oh my god the drums), fuzz bass, screaming guitars, syrupy synths and 8-bit programming on the ears. If Passion Pit did garage rock, this is what they’d sound like.

At times the band sound like they’re making it up as they go along – which is all part of the charm. ‘Poison Control’ launches with a glitchy drum beat, dissonant guitar and silky piano line which builds – new melodies braid around old, new sounds are introduced to the tapestry – until a full minute and a half in it’s revealed that, in fact, this isn’t an instrumental: “Don’t bring home that poison / WELL YOU SMELL LIKE SMOKE AND YOUR HAIR’S UNDONE!!!!” screams Ryan Schaefer.

Continuing with ‘My Car Is Haunted’, tribal, off-kilter, pots-and-pans percussion backs a riff that is classic 70’s rock: bass and guitar right on top of each other. ‘Brainbow’ finds itself somewhere between Animal Collective and Radiohead as vocoded lyrics play call and answer with a spastic synth line and gentle harp chords before it launches in to something that sounds like it’s been lifted from the Double Dragon soundtrack. ‘1993′ opens with the wide-eyed enthusiastic noise-pop of Los Campesinos! The album continues in this fashion – fueled on vodka mixed with Redbull mixed with Sega Megadrives – with its foot firmly on the accelerator for the duration.

With a mix of on the button electronics, synths and programming fused with classic, hook-heavy 70s rock Let It Beep is a thrill a minute. With this much pace, energy and excitement coming from a band who sound like they’re having the time of their lives, surely it would be rude not to join in.

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REVIEW: tUnE-yArDs -- BiRd-BrAiNs

2009-11-26T16:32:00.000Z

We’re a planet of organisers; rock, pop, indie, electro, americana,country and a myriad other genre and sub-genre exist to allow us togroup our eclectic record collections into perfectly formed sections.However, every now again you find yourself in the record shop lookingfor that must-own release and you think to yourself: “Well, it could bein the ‘Dance’ section I guess, but then there’s nothing stopping itbeing in ‘Rock & Pop’ either.” What happens when points ofcomparison and reference are so disparate? It’s ruining the filingsystem! Well, there’s another record to add to this “Where are HMVgoing to file it?” list: tUnE-yArDs‘ BiRd-BrAiNs.

Taking the idea of the DIY aesthetic very seriously, Merrill Garbus –the one woman that makes up the full tUnE-YaRdS line-up – recorded thevocals for the record on a digital voice recorder and then mixed therecord on the free Audacity software. So, that’s pretty lo-fi then.This small list of tools is even proudly declared on the inside coveralong with the statement: “You can do it”. The result is a smorgasbordof lo-fi folk, world music, R ‘n’ B pop and processed beats. All stylesand reference points deployed seemingly at will across the record’s 13tracks with Garbus having a firm grasp of each ones eccentricities.

Most of the album is scratched out on a ukulele, untold melodiesweaving their way though a selection of sinister ditties that play outlike fairytales of old – the versions where everyone didn’t livehappily ever after. Behind the uke is the album’s biggest strength: aselection of some of the best beat sampling you’re likely to hear thisyear. ‘Sunlight’ features a tape-fuzz breakbeat that wouldn’t sound outoff place on a DJ Shadow record; ‘News’ opens with what sounds like achild banging a toy on a table; this becomes the backbone of the rhythmwhich is built on with milk bottle percussion.

The album’s other biggest strength (yes, it had two) is Garbus’voice which flits effortlessly between soft lullaby, fork tongued snarland, well, MIA; delivering messages to ex lovers: “I’m not going tostick around here anymore if you treat me badly,” and clever turns ofphrase: “What if my skin makes my skin crawl?”

It’s possible to take each track on BiRd-BrAiN and dissectit – ‘Jamaican’ with its Timberland beat, ‘Lions’ sounding like a FourTet playground rhyme – and in doing so it can reveal the album’s doubleedged sword.
Ostensibly the album is a one-trick pony: create a beat,loop a uke part, sing over the top. Although each track is incrediblywell conceived and executed, it could be argued that 13 tracks is alittle over long.

That said, it shouldn’t detract from the skill and ingenuity ondisplay. Garbus has crammed so many ideas in here it demands repeatlistens to open up all the idiosyncrasies and often witty lyrics hiddenin this Pandora’s Box of an album.

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REVIEW: Epic 45 - In All The Empty Houses

2009-11-16T14:54:00.000Z

…and as ‘In All The Empty Houses’’ sixth and final track drew to itsclose I thought, “Well, that was nice.” Surely the personification ofthat old idiom: “Damning with faint praise.” N-I-C-E. Surely it’s theleast expressive and most pointless adjective in the English language.When Orwell invented the idea of Newspeak I hope that “Nice” was top ofthe list of words nominated for removal. But I digress...

Epic45 are Ben Holton and Rob Glover and they dominimalist acoustic-ish electronica (if that even is a genre). Beforeyou even get to the CD it’s pretty clear what’s about to hit your earsfrom the accompanying artwork: an almost desaturated, isolated, snowcovered farm house – the only sign of life at all being the plume ofsmoke emanating from one of its chimney stacks. The theme of isolationis echoed across the six tracks that make up this album of subtleprogramming, acoustic guitars and vocals.

Opening with ‘We Were Never Here’ the album gets of to an unfortunatelyslow start. If I had to throw a ridiculous-but-appropriate sounds-likein there I’d go for: Just Jack covering the theme from Twin Peaks.Really. This false start limps into ‘Daylight Ghosts’ which picks upwhere its predecessor left off until, suddenly, in its second minute itpricks up the ears for the first time. The vocals are folded back onthemselves, the drums open up, things start to fall in and out of themix as the whole thing dissolves in to white noise and ambient chimes –it just got interesting.

The remaining four tracks of In All the Empty Housescontinue in a similar vein: the title track flits somewhere betweenRadio Dept. and M83, a telephone vocal looping, “Your voice will alwaysfollow me”; ‘The Future Is Blinding’ uses off beat rhythms againstdancing, sparkling samples; and ‘Ghosts On Tape’ mixes lo-fi and hi-fiproduction to great effect. Although the vocals here are nowhere nearas obtrusive as on the opening track (and a half) it’s ‘Their Voices InThe Rafters’ – the album’s only instrumental – that proves that vocalsaren’t needed at all. It stands just as strong – if not stronger – thaneverything else presented here.

Although by no means perfect, In All the Empty Houses hasenough going on to keep things interesting. When writing “songs” Epic45fall a little short of the mark; when putting pieces of music togethertheir strengths are obvious. Nice.

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The evolution of video games, some 8 bit electronica and a whole heap of weird

2009-11-16T08:05:00.000Z

Probably the best video I've seen on the internet ever. Probably.
Be sure to watch to the end for some very strange video game love.

This week I have mostly been cooking to: The Tailors - Come Dig Me Up

2009-11-06T17:28:00.002Z

Love a bit of cooking me. Where others like to celebrate the arrival home from a hard day at work with a good, long sit on the sofa with Adrian Chiles (Mr BBC) and that Irish woman for company, I like to get in the kitchen and chop, fry and roast up something tasty to take my mind of the previous eight hours.

Many culinary connoisseurs out there will no doubt tell you that kitchen essentials are things such as an ultra sharp knife, a well seasoned wok or a handsomely stocked spice rack. They’re all wrong. The only kitchen essential you need is a stereo. I can guarantee that food tastes better when cooked with a soundtrack. I’m like a Zone Five Levi Roots or some shit.

So, this week I’ve mostly been cooking to The Tailors’ Come Dig Me Up. Nine songs marinated (that’s right, culinary vernacular) in good-time country rock and roll. Opening with ‘Pictures of Her’ (probably accompanying the chopping of an onion, maybe some garlic) Adam Killip’s breaking, husky vocal is joined only by a fingerpicked guitar until the band arrive a few short bars later with a wall of backing vocals.

By the time I’m browning my beef* we’ve moved onto one of the album’s few tender moments: ‘Impossible Wonder’. A lazy, hazy ballad which goes to showcase that The Tailors are more than just a one trick pony (that trick being country-pop gems).

As Come Dig Me Up draws to a close and I’m forking the mash, it’s clear that The Tailors have managed to take something which is inherently very American (the alt-country sounds of early Wilco or Ryan Adams) and make it sound distinctly English.

Oh, and it’s was a cottage pie. Well nice too. Don’t be afraid to be a little over zealous with the parsley, it’ll pay dividends.

*Not a euphemism.

The Tailors - Forever Fade by ParriKrishna

The Tailors - Come Dig Me Up is available from Trash Aesthetics from November 30th

Flamboyant Bella - Absolutely Wankered

2009-11-06T11:59:00.002Z

It's long been known that there's something about being from a middle-of-nowhere town that just breeds rebellion. I guess it's that age-old gripe of being 15 years old, having "nothing to do" and being certain that all other 15 year olds that live in the so-close-but-so-far London/Manchester/Wherever are probably out at some guerrilla gig in Shorditch sharing needles with ol' Peter D.

Flamboyant Bella are a band from the leafy idyl that is Hitchin. I've been there many times; it's just up the road from my Watford home. It's nice: inoffensive old people knocking about the quaint old town centre, lots of green space, and even a fairly reputable live venue that goes under name of Club 85. So, if you're under 18 it's rife for a bit of underage drinking in the park, and a lots of house parties.

Flamboyant Bella have put out a couple of singles since Absolutely Wankered (recently re-recorded) but for ages it was the only track of theirs I knew of; a friend whacked it on a compilation tape (CD) alongside the unlikely company of Bob Dylan and Autralian New-wavers Mental As Anything. At first I hated it, then I lightened up and learned to love it. And them. Whatever you do, don't take it too seriously.

Flamboyant Bella are currently selling a ten track record on their tour. The re-recorded version of Absolutely Wankered is available for free download from their MySpace.

REVIEW: The Silent League - But You've Always Been The Caretaker

2009-11-06T11:33:00.000Z

With the New York tag, normally comes visions of black leatherjackets and black skinny jeans; trend-setters abandoning guitars forsynths in a quest for cool. Sidestepping this assembled throng of scenechasers, Brooklyn based The Silent League have theirhearts in an entirely different New York; a musically historic up-stateNew York: the Catskill Mountains. Spiritual home to The Band and namechecked by the likes of Beck and Mercury Rev.

Over the last five years, the collective — lead by Justin Russo, whoat the time of the band’s formation was playing keyboards for MercuryRev — has been periodically forming, releasing records (their second, Of Stars and Other Somebodies,never receiving a release in North America), playing a few shows andthen disappearing again. Over the years the band has been made up of avarying cast including members of Interpol, Arcade Fire, Beirut, St.Vincent, Stars Like Fleas and Bishop Allen. In its current incarnationthe band has Shannon Fields on board as producer and performer to helpcreate a record of perfectly executed soft-pop gems.

Sonically, But You’ve Always Been The Caretaker (the band’sthird long player) sits alongside the likes of Mercury Rev and TheFlaming Lips; across its 15 tracks its glides effortlessly on with aconfident grace, punctuated by a series of shorter musical vignettes(’Egg-shaped’, ‘Sleeper’, ‘But You’ve Always Been The Pilot’, ‘How AndWhy Our Dads Lost The War’).

A collection of middle-tempo, grand, orchestral numbers make up thebulk of the album, each one drawing in the listener with an of openingof delicate pianos and fragile vocals before a raft of brass, strings,guitars and all manner of synthesizers enter the fold creating blanketsof comforting, lush, space-rock. And that’s the musical theme thatpermeates the record; explicitly on the so-ELO-it-hurts ‘Yours Truly,2095′ (”Maybe some day I’ll feel her cold embrace / I’ll kiss herinterface”), with nods to Ziggy-era Bowie on ‘Here’s A Star’, and on‘Dayplanner’, which with its pedal steel, squelching synths andsaxophone solo, could easily have been lifted from Dark Side Of The Moon.

On penultimate track ‘Final Chapter Meeting’, Jean-Michel Jarrebleeps and pieces dance around a foreboding vocal: “Sounds like plague/ seems like everybody’s got something”. The track builds to a four barrepetition, every cycle bringing new elements: a chorus of vocaleuphoria, walls of distorted guitar punctuate the bottom, while a groupof horns play over and over until they lose control.

To think that The Silent League are an on again/off again collectiveis beguiling when the output is this accomplished. What they presenthere is an album of such accomplished majesty and width, unashamedlynodding to its influences that stands shoulder to shoulder with anycontemporary comparisons. This is hairs on the back of your neck stuff.

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The Memory Tapes - Seek Magic

2009-11-04T09:26:00.001Z

I was handed the Memory Tapes' debut album Seek Magic the other day. Admittedly I'm a little late to the party (it was released on Something In Construction back in August) but by gosh it's an absolute cracker! I can see this filling the Cut Copy sized hole left in my 2009. It's also a good replacement for the more than disappointing Whitest Boy Alive album that came out earlier this year.

If you like your beats minimal and your vocals ethereal then you can't go much wrong here.

Here's Bicycles. The first single lifted from Seek Magic and also the track chosen to feature on the now legendary Kitsune comilation (number 8 in the instance).

You cab listen to Kitsuné Maison Compilation 8 on Spotify.

LIVE REVIEW: Efterklang perform Parades with the Britten Sinfonia

2009-10-29T09:06:00.001Z

As the Barbican falls to a hush, the oboe plays its Aand the rest of the Britten Sinfonia follow suit with the familiar,comforting and hall-filling sound of an orchestra tuning up. It's wasat that point when it dawned on me that tonight could be very specialindeed.

Having already performed their much acclaimed album of 2007 with theDanish National Chamber Orchestra (now a DVD and live album) and withthe Britten Sinfonia, Efterklang were in a new comfort zone here.Rather than the band playing front and center -- with orchestra behind-- they assimilated themselves in amongst assembled throng of strings,brass and woodwind to become part of the orchestra, rather than a bandbacked by one. Leading from the front was conductor Paul Hoskins; fromthe back of the stage Efterklang front man Casper Clausen conducted hismen and women -- a picture childish smiles.

Paradesobviously lends itself well to being played with an orchestra, thealbum having strings and brass dappled over all its tracks -- a dutynormally replicated live by Peter Broderick (violin), Niklas Antonson(Trombone and tap shoes) and Thomas Husmer (trumpet and drums). Whatlifted this performance above the obvious width of sound whenreplicating these songs with an orchestra was the arrangement itself.Stings doubled vocals while brass picked up on bass lines; strings wereplucked, picked and scraped en masse to create a canvas of sounds thatwas part of the performance, not merely an accompaniment.

Even though the band seemed very comfortable in amongst the orchestrait did, I feel, take away from the energy you normally get from anEfterklang solo show. However, this was by no means a normal Efterklang show.

With Parades now performed in its entirety a number of times one canonly think what influences this is having on one of the most inventiveand stand-alone act of the moment. A new album is promised for theSpring. Those that were there had a little sneak peak during theencore. Glorious.

Efterklang & The Danish National Chamber Orchestra - Cutting Ice To Snow (live) from Leaf Label on Vimeo.

REVIEW: The Last Dinosaur - Hooray For Happiness

2009-10-28T15:28:00.003Z

The Last Dinosaur -- Hooray! For Happiness

Release date: 05/11/2009

Label: Dearstereofan / LuvsoundEarly in the 20th century popular music was dominated by a collection of music publishers and songwriters, who operated under the moniker Tin Pan Alley. This collective was responsible for the lion's share of musical output of the era, with the performing artists themselves playing second fiddle to the men that pulled the strings.

Now, early in the 21st century, it could be argued that not much has changed. In a world infected with the X Factor, a flailing chart and an army of wannabes demanding their piece of Andy Warhol's oft-quoted prophecy, it is, once again, the producers and songwriters controlling the market we know as "popular music". And what do they do? If something works once, it'll damn well work again: Cher with her vocoder, Rihanna with her "ela-ela-ela" and so on. Even outside the world of pop, how many bands have cropped up that have been given a Libertines, Strokes or Joy Division gloss to their records? What the industry needs is a few DIY purists that can show what's achievable with a little effort, creativity and confidence. What the industry needs is The Last Dinosaur.

Hooray! For Happiness is a DIY record – like, “to the max”. This body of both intimate and widescreen work (more on that later) wasn't created on a Mac with endless tracks at its creators' disposal, it was made on a 16 track recorder. The album's liner notes detail the challenges at hand when recording an album under such constraints: just two microphones were all that could be afforded to the drums (one over head and one in the kick drum) and that the way around harmonies was to use a loop pedal. This admission isn't apologetic however, it's proud -- and rightly so.

Across 12 tracks The Last Dinosaur (Jamie Cameron & Luke Hayden) have managed to put together a record which defies coherent classification. Opening with Every Second Is A Second Chance, a thousand digital raindrops explode over and over again while, slowly but surely, a tribal drum fades into the foreground ready to play call and answer with the piano that follows it. It builds. A saxophone floats in the middle distance. The ebb and flow continues until it climaxes in a bombast of cymbals, guitars and euphoric vocal chanting. In this track alone you could throw comparisons such as Ólafur Arnalds, Broken Social Scene and Explosions In The Sky into the mix.

After six and a half glorious opening minutes we have, ostensibly, a post-rock album in our hands. Think again. Every Second... is followed by Fool -- which has proper vocals. "I'm a fool for you," repeats over and over as the chord progression repeats over and over; pianos, acoustics and bass drive the track in its infancy, its intimacy, while the just-more-than-a-breath vocal mantra loops. Falling over itself into second gear a string section lifts the track out of its intimacy into its grandiose conclusion.

It's this balance between intimacy and the epic that sits at the centre of Hooray! For Happiness; everything is measured and calculated. The loud-quiet-loud dynamic isn't exactly a new idea but its execution here is subtle. Things build naturally. The same trick is rarely employed twice with all manner of guitars, pianos, strings, brass, vocals and percussion taking centre stage on varying tracks. The album takes turns into the hushed folk of Bon Iver (Be That Boy), the soundtrack landscapes of Sigur Ros (The Song Playing at the End of the Film of My Life) and the organic electronics of Fridge (The First Last Dinosaur Song) without ever losing focus or coherence.

An extra insight into this labour of love is the liner notes accompanying each track, giving a gimps into the each piece’s conception; The Greatest Film Never Made (an album highlight) was inspired by the documentary Lost In La Mancha about Terry Gilliam's still incomplete film The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, the piano recorded using a 60's ribbon microphone “donated by a very generous older gentleman who would come into Blockbuster every Thursday.” Combine this with a series of video shorts to accompany each track and you have something which becomes more than just the album, it’s a package; a project.

When the Beatles recorded Sgt Pepper they used a four track recorder and still decided A Day in the Life was doable; there’s a lot to be said for creativity through limitation. The Last Dinosaur take this idiom and run with it by creating one of most refreshing, creative and inventive records of the year.

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You can listen to Hooray! For Happiness on BandCamp

Best album artwork of the year goes to...

2009-10-22T18:27:00.000+01:00

Part Chimp - Thriller

Review:

Album of the Day 22.10.09 // And So I Watch You From Afar - And So I Watch You From Afar

2009-10-22T17:57:00.000+01:00

I missed out on a ticket to go and see the mighty This Will Destroy You last night due to a work commitment. Yep, that sucks. What sucks even more is that And So I Watch You From Afar were in support. Holy shit this band knows how to play it double-hard. It's like a big, fuck-off-loud version of Errors. It's a subtle (ha!) blend of mathy rhythms and tear your face from your skull volume. I'll take two please.

The album is on Spotify and contains brilliant track titles such as Tip of the hat, punch in the face and If it ain't broke, break it.

Also, this video is mint.

The Slew - 100%

2009-10-20T17:57:00.000+01:00

The Slew - 100%
Label: Ninjatune

Release date: 24/11/09

...and then for his third effort DJ Shadow released The Outsider, at which the majority of his fans breathed in sharply through their teeth and released a collective, "Really?" At the time, Shadow is quoted as saying: "Repeat Endtroducing over and over again? That was never, ever in thegame plan. Fuck that. I think it's time for certain fans to decideif they are fans of the album, or the artist." I think we all know what the collective decision was.

A couple of years later and Shadow was back with his old partner in crime, Cut Chemist, touring The Hard Sell, the latest of their collaboration records. Opening for them on these shows they had Kid Koala, the Montreal turntablist who has the pleasure of a Bjork and Radiohead name-drop when it comes to people he's opened for.

A couple of years before this jaunt around the US with two of the world's most respected turntabalists, Kid Koala started working on a rock record with Dynomite D, longtime shoulder-rubber with the Beastie Boys. The pair, who met on theBeasties Boys tour in 1998, had been approached to soundtrack adocumentary feature film. The film was eventually abandoned, but withMario C (Beastie Boys Engineer/Producer) on board for mixing, D and Koala were already deep intothe psych rock-influenced score and there was no turning back.

To complete the project, D and Koala teamed up with Chris Ross and Myles Heskett, the rhythm sectionof Wolfmother (yes, of Woman! fame), and The Slew were formed. The result is a melting pot of psych blues riffs, turntable gymnastics and sample wizardry. The beats and samples on offer ooze with the teachings and influence of classic DJ Shadow, Cut Chemist and Mix Master Mike, and the sleazy, fuzz-drenched bass lines and blues guitars are everything you'd expect from the over the top rock excess of Wolfmother. On paper it sounds horrible. In reality it's quite special.

Opening with its title track, the first thing to hit your ears on 100% is a high pitched wail which is somewhere between James Brown and Robert Plant. Enter a scratchy guitar riff dripping in bluesy rock-n-roll; the riff plays cat and mouse games with a turntable; and then in comes the bass line to get appreciative heads nodding and chins stroking. This is straight up Blaxploitation rock-n-soul. Slip this on some headphones and take a walk: you'll be 100 miles high as the most street walkin', jive talkin', coolest cat in, er, West Hampstead? It's this opening mix of breaks, blues and samples that sets up the whole album.

The Grinder is a bass-driven acid soul groove, Shackled Soul's frenetic break beat and guitar freakout morphs into a guitar solo reminiscent of Van Halen's Eruption battling with a turntable, and You Turn Me Cold has a grimey cock rock riff. Southeast Solilioquay slows things down by taking a Delta Blues sample and applying a thick sheen of hip-hop filth. Album highlight Battle Of Heaven & Hell is all sinister high note strings, osculating phasing and haunted spoken word samples. The album reveals shades of The Free Association and UNKLE along with early Stones and Zeppelin. It's a myriad of competing styles and reference points that somehow manage to gel.

After touring the record and selling limited copies at shows, demand has grown so much that it's soon to see a release proper via Ninjatune. However, if you're quick you can download the whole thing for free here. The download link is set to self destruct on November 1st so think fast. Of course we'll all be putting in an order for the double-vinyl to pour over the samples and gain credibility.
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Cymabls Eat Guitars - Why There Are Mountains

2009-10-20T09:03:00.003+01:00

Cymbals Eat Guitars - Why There Are Mountains
Release Date: 2009
Label: Self released

I whacked on the Cymbals Eat Guitars album Why There Are Mountains this morning, only to be reminded that it's one of this year's sleeper hits. What a wonderful, wonderful noise. They'll be most easily, and not doubt often, compared to earlier Pavement -- but that's just one string to their musical bow.

Indiana, after an intro of amp noise and unintelligible vocals, falls over itself into a toe-tapping, barroom piano-led romp of a track, replete with charming brass and sing-a-long chorus. On the flip side to this What Dogs See is a slow, brooding, post-rock monster that reveals itself slowly through atmospheric guitar loops, bass harp and shimmering vocals. The track finally dissolves into a mess of low-register strings, serving as a segue to what the album's most radio-friendly hit, Wind Phoenix, the track responsible for those Pavement comparisons.

The seven minutes of Share arguably stand as the album's highlight. It opens with slow, huge, My Bloody Valentine distortion you can wrap yourself in; a warm blanket of fuzz. And then it happens: it peaks. An explosion of proud brass and screaming guitars lifts the whole thing to a triumphant climax. It's like Ágætis Byrjun era Sigur Ros, only really fucking loud, and with more foot-on-monitor wailing guitar solos. And then, as if they hadn't already crammed enough into one track, it happens again. The whole thing drops into a four to the floor, disco hi-hats, indie-rock outro. This is seven minutes of yes.

It's commendable that one band can cram so many ideas and styles onto one record and still retain the coherence that Cymbals Eat Guitars have managed. By stealing from a myriad of genre and eras they've somehow manage to carve a niche all of their own. It's a breath of fresh air to find a band who are so seemingly involved in their own sound that they've not bothered to see what everyone else is doing at the moment.

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You can listen to Cymbals Eat Guitars - Why There Are Mountains on Spotify.

#Musicmonday Copy Haho - The Last Dash

2009-10-19T11:01:00.001+01:00

It's Monday which must mean, in the world of Twitter at least, it is #musicmonday. What? Well, for those not in the loop, on a Monday people like to post music they're totally freakin' diggin' so their followers can find out about music that is, like, so hot right now.

In return a load of people you're following might play along and, with any luck, you'll discover something new to spend the rest of the week investigating. So, without further ado:

Copy Haho - The Last Dash
I'm all about this band right now. They've only an EP and a single or two to their name so far but these Libertines meets Pavement via Scotland sounds are all kinds of good.

Tune of the Day 09.10.09 // Dan Bull - Generation Gaming

2009-10-09T10:01:00.001+01:00

When it comes to computer games I'll always be a child. It started with Marble Madness & Arkanoid on my Atari ST520 and it hasn't stopped. This track from Dan Bull is brilliantly on the money in both sentiment and fan boy references. It's bang on for a Friday.

If you're liking the cut of that jib you can download Dan Bull's album Safe from his MySpace free of freakin' charge. How'd ya like that Lily Allen?

REVIEW: Copy Haho - Wrong Direction

2009-10-09T08:00:00.000+01:00

What`s Scotland`s most successful export? Whiskey? Well, yes, it probably is. Tell you what it should be though: music. Straight up. Scotland is ripe for crackin` bands. From the ear shattering Mogwai, to the lush pop of Camera Obscura, via the twee stylings of the brilliant Ballboy. And then on top of that you`ve got Boards Of Canada, Remember Remember and Errors for those that like things a little more dance-able. Recently, them that live north of Hadrian`s wall have been asserting their skills once again with the likes of Frightened Rabbit, Glasvegas and We Were Promised Jetpacks releasing debut or sophomore efforts to much critical acclaim. It looks like there may another band to add to that roster: Copy Haho. They just need to play their cards right.

After a couple of limited 7" singles in 2008 and an EP released earlier this year, Copy Haho release Wrong Direction on Too Pure`s monthly singles label -- so if you want one of the limited to 500 copies you`ll have to be pretty quick. Side A finds the band, well, sounding not a million miles from early Libertines. It opens quietly, backed only by a lazily picked clean electric, then in comes a hooky riff and we`re off. However, to write Copy Haho off as a Libertines rip-off -- yet another tawdry scene band trying to emanate the lazy swagger of Doherty & Barat -- would be oh so wrong. What they`ve managed to do on Wrong Direction is capture that genuine energy that was found on the Libertines` early work. Demons & Gods on the flip-side carries on in much the same fashion: three minutes and 22 seconds of well-realised, poppy, good time indie rock.

Wrong Direction has got pace, drive, a shout-along chorus, a false ending and it`s catchy as fuck. Album please!

[As seen on Culture Deluxe]

Tune of the Day 08.10.09 // Why? - Even The Good Wood Gone

2009-10-08T19:46:00.002+01:00

The new Why? album, Eskimo Snow, is certainly taking its sweet time in ingraining itself into my mind in the way that Alopicia did. Swapping that cornered genre of "Folk-hop" for more of a folk-rock sound wan't something anyone was expecting.

However, even though it's a change from the formula we've come to know and love, when we get tracks like Even The Good Wood Gone it's hard to argue that change in direction. That pedal steel is straight out of Dark Side Of The Moon!

REVIEW: The Big Pink - A Brief History Of Love

2009-10-08T19:33:00.002+01:00

In 1968 Bob Dylan`s backing band, The Hawks, decided to branch out without Zimmerman and put together an album of their own. Under the new moniker of The Band they released `Music From Big Pink`, a collection of country/folk/rock numbers which has gone on to be afforded the label of "seminal".

What does this have to do with The Big Pink? Well, nothing really. The reason I open with a small history lesson in classic folk rock is because, although the band have confirmed that they take their name from The Band`s debut, the similarities stop there. On first seeing the name Big Pink I was expecting a heart-on-sleeve ode to all things 60s Americana; the next Fleet Foxes or Midlake. I was wrong, very wrong; but this is not necessarily a bad thing.

`A Brief History of Love` stakes its claim from the moment you press (or click, or touch) play. After the opening bars of distant, delayed and delicate guitar tinkering, a wash of phasing distortion and pulsing bass enters the fold. The opening lyric – "She got lightning in her hair" – comes delivered as a mantra before the whole thing arrives: more distortion. Add to this electronic flourishes and a very loud tambourine and you’ve got acts one and two sewn up: organic meets electronic.

For act three, in a brilliant deployment of the loud / quiet / LOUD dynamic (another link to the Pixies is via the man responsible for both bands’ artwork), the whole thing erupts in to speaker shattering, ear destroying distortion, still with a ethereally treated vocal mantra shimmering over the top. Game on.

The rest of the album plays out in much the same way musically. `Too Young to Love` ups the ante on the electronica and beats, `At War With the Sun` has been lifted from a John Hughes film soundtracked by the Horrors, and `Velvet` takes a more Bristol approach.

Serving as welcome counterpoints, `Love In Vain` (void of almost any electronics) `Count Backwards from Ten` and the album`s title track (a duet) drop the tempo without ever dropping the feel. Void of these well placed rest-bites the record would feel it was lacking in ideas; with them they serve to not only strengthen the album as a whole but highlight the breadth of Robbie Furze and Milo Cordell’s writing ability.

The theme of the album – that’s right, the history of love – is tackled from every viewpoint available. From psychedelic ambiguity: “They’re waiting for us to arrive / 200 naked pure gold girls” fear of commitment: “Three words shared we said too early on” and the fear of love lost: “If you really love him, tell me that you love him again” all bases are covered and all are delivered in a drawl that falls somewhere between Richard Ashcroft and BRMC.

With the current glut of “noise” and electronic bands that are currently monopolising column inches (read: The Horrors, Pains Of Being Pure At Heat, School of Seven Bells et al) it’s easy to dismiss yet another band that finds it hard to shake the words “My Bloody Valentine” from their press coverage. In this album however The Big Pink have managed to find their own niche in an increasingly crowded genre by blending big electronics with big walls of sound. Hang on, isn’t that what Kasabian did six years ago?

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[As featured on Culture Deluxe]

REVIEW: Cinematics - New Mexico

2009-10-08T19:25:00.000+01:00

The Cinematics are a Glasgow-based band - not that you`d be able to tell from merely listening; that familiar Glaswegian drawl that so many band`s from Scotland`s largest city seem to thrive on has been lost for an altogether more American-emo twang. This track? It`s well heartfelt, yeah?

The main sentiment of New Mexico is that our protagonist is standing in a car park in New Mexico (obviously), with $50 on his phone, trying to call his girl back home. Now there`s no reading between the lines here; lyrically it`s pretty blunt. Anyway, international roaming charges `n` all means that all he`s left to do is ponder "Are we staring at the same stars?" I`m going to say that if your `girl back home` is on British soil then no, you`re not. Seven hours time difference. I looked it up.

Fey, emo sentiments aside, we`re presented with a track which is all wide shimmering guitars, four-to-the-floor drums and driving bass. As a band, The Cinematics have toured with the likes of Editors and We Are Scientists; if it wasn`t for the shadows these bands have cast then maybe they`d be getting more recognition.

For me The Cinematics don`t really have enough going for them - on the strength of this single at least - to convince anyone they`re doing anything which is more than "not bad". Ultimately this is Hollyoaks-indie*. It`s anthemic indie music by numbers. Maybe the imminent second album will throw up a few instances where the band are will to veer from the formula.

*I`ve been reliably informed that when Mandy`s baby died on Hollyoaks they played Bonnie `Prince` Billy`s I See A Darkness. For that they get mad props. That`s right, mad props.

In fact, why not just listen to that -- seeing as it's brilliant n all.

[As featured on Culture Deluxe]

REVIEW: Left With Pictures - Beyond Our Means

2009-10-08T19:17:00.000+01:00

I`ve got a real problem with the term "Chamber pop". It`s as if, ever since Arcade Fire released `Funeral` back in 2004, it`s been the de facto description to tag on a band when trying to avoid saying, "sounds a bit like Arcade Fire." I say this because "sounds a bit like Arcade Fire" seems to be the instant comparison of any band that introduces violin, brass or any other instrument that doesn`t find itself in the guitar / bass / drums / keys staple of popular music as a main component of their sound. By that token, all bands that employ any classical instrumentation are just an Arcade Fire rip-off. An, by that token, every band that uses the old classic of guitar / bass / drums is just a poor imitation of the first rock album you ever heard. Obviously we all know this isn`t the case. But, before I start adding a soapbox on top of my soapbox I should really move on, for there is something quite grand emanating from my speakers…

Harmonies! Pizzicato strings! Accordions! Charming brass! It`s the love-child of Neil Hannon and the Brewis brothers! Bloody brilliant! We could even call it Chamber pop. Hello, Left With Pictures and your album, `Beyond Our Means`.

Sitting at the heart of this record is its makers’ love of craft. Everything feels like it has been pored over meticulously; the appreciation of the effectiveness of dynamics is at the key to Beyond Our Means’ success – and they even admit it on the album’s opening track: `Every cadence and every rhyme / every pick, every slide, every hook they`ve all been tried.` Strings come and go; harmonies are deployed sparingly; percussion is a driving force and then, at the next turn, merely an atmospheric device. It’s the level and understanding of restraint that keeps the myriad instruments and ideas under reigns; no track breaks into a fourth minute and yet nothing feels that it lacks focus.

Peppered throughout the record is a collection of narratives that conjure imagery of a nostalgic, English childhood – the main theme of the album. We`re falling over in stinging nettles, introducing the girlfriend to mum, and taking trips through Waterloo; and all this delivered with an unaffected middle-English accent with not a stiff upper lip nor plum in mouth in sight. And that’s what struck me first about this album, just how very bloody English it is. It`s refreshing to listen to a record bereft of a faux American accent or affected cockney drawl.

These weaving stories do little in the way of ambiguity, but that’s not the point. In its essence this is a collection of folk songs, and that’s what folk songs do: tell stories. And as with good folk music, all these tales play out through articulate, witty turns of phrase and whimsical childhood imagery. We reminisce about snow coated winters, `Fetch me a barrow and a spade / I don’t mind if I get waylaid / I’ll make the most of my cold white host` the world beyond the back garden, `Up above the flight paths are busy now / they to and they fro to places I will never know` and endless summers, "July seemed an acre of time stretching out beyond Hadrian`s wall." It`s this sense of youth -- that excitement of the unknown that you only experienced when you`re young -- that brings the album to life. I`m sure it snows just as much now as it did when I was nine, summer lasts just as long with much the same weather, and I know where those planes go and the DVT, bad food and fear of delays that come with them. However, for 35 minutes, Left With Pictures pack in enough musical ideas and childhood escapism I just don`t care about now. I`m not sure what is beyond Left With Pictures` means, because releasing one of the most brilliantly realised orchestral pop albums of the year isn`t.

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[As featured on Culture Deluxe]

REVIEW: Girls - Album

2009-10-08T18:57:00.000+01:00

Much has been written about San Francisco double act Girls. On the most part this is due to the band`s willingness to discuss their propensity for prescription drugs (on the band`s MySpace page it lists www.drugs.com as their official website) and singer-songwriter Christopher Owens` upbringing in the Children Of God, a religious cult whose reputation includes reports of child molestation, a practice known as Flirty Fishing (where women would "show God`s love to men" in the hope of evangelism), and River Phoenix as one of its former members.

In Owens` songwriting, the product of these dysfunctional influences manifests itself, for the most part, as large slice of sun-baked, hazy, San Fransisco stoner pop. What on paper could have easily turned itself into a solipsistic nightmare manages to sit just the right side of pretentious -- and it`s all the better for it.

Lyrically we`re presented with the usual suspects of love " I only want to be with you all of the time," rock `n` roll "I`ve got a cool guitar and a bag of marijuana, man," and, on the album`s seven-minute centerpiece `Hellhole Ratrace`, the lust for life "I don`t wanna die with out shakin` up a leg or two."

With Girls taking a very literal approach to the making of a lo-fi album (the band report that for the most part the album recorded in rehearsal studios after hours, as it was cheaper) Chet White, the other half of the duo and at the helm of production duties, has turned in quite the performance. It`s hackneyed for sure but this record sparkles. The width of sound achieved is remarkable. At the heart of almost every track here is a lackadaisical guitar part full of small mistakes and idiosyncrasies. Building on this White has employed all manner of vocal harmonies, percussion, sepia-tinged reverbs, and thick distortion. `Big Bad Mean Mother Fucker` takes 60`s California pop and throws a shitload of Kevin Shields at it, Yo La Tengo would love to have written `Laura`; it sounds like Girls didn`t even try.

By wearing so many influences on their sleeves (the surf-pop of the Beach Boys, shoegaze introspection of Spiritualized and the scuzzy rock n roll of Iggy & The Stooges) the album falters by lacking any obvious coherence, which can make it difficult to pinpoint the record -- or the band for that matter -- with any real "sound".

An example in point can be seen when taking a look at the album`s track lengths; six of the 12 on offer here clock-in under the three minute mark: ostensibly, we have a pop record on our hands. In contrast to this, the remaining tracks fall between just shy of five minutes up to a full seven minutes. With this in mind -- and with Girls` minds rooted in the halcyon days of 60s/70s San Francisco -- we have a record which deserves a format befitting its maker`s musical roots: 12" vinyl.

Played out on MP3, downloaded in seconds from high-speed broadband ready to be discarded if it fails to tick the box of instant gratification, the album falls into an incoherent jumble of influences trying to pin down a sound of its own. Listen to "Side A" on repeat and you have lo-fi pop record full of catchy hooks, melodies and good time rock n roll. "Side B" presents a more thoughtful, sleepy, spiritual(ized) experience. And that`s this record`s double edged sword: the sum of its two individual "sides" prove to be greater than the whole.

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[As featured on Culture Deluxe]

Low - Murderer

2009-10-08T17:43:00.001+01:00

The best video on the whole of YouTube. Word.