Month: December 2005

To say Eminem has Tourettes, in the expected sense, would just be plain ridiculous. Obscenities are obviously neither a curse nor embarrassment to Marshall Mathers. They’re a career choice. They’re probably written in his passport. But he is nonetheless cursed by another form of seemingly uncontrollable ‘spontaneity’. Namely shooting himself (and particularly the quick-witted socially-intuitive foundation he’s so often laid) in the foot whenever he’s ahead, in order to present himself as some kind of sadly-populist, goofy, misogynistic meat-head with Continue Reading

As a music critic I’m contractually obliged to mention the following things about David Bowie: Major Tom-Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane, Thin White Duke, Young American, Alien Godfather of New Romance, Drum & Bass,  Goblin King, Brian Eno/Hansa Studios, a cocaine habit so bad it results in holes in the brain, groundbreaking stage shows, Iggy Pop, Androgyny, cut up lyrics and Spiders from Mars. These words are part of every reviewer’s ‘Bowie tool kit’ and as such you must have heard Continue Reading

So, Jason Lytle tried to fool us all a little while ago by trimming back that which defines him and his band, even more so than their cascading psychedelic daydream rushes and obsessive hoarding of cotton-soft melodies. But there ain’t no fooling us, Jase. The bulk of the actual beard may have gone, but your anonymity is hardly assured when your tunes remain just as coarse, colloquially bushy and generally warming. It is, though, a relief that the clippers encroached Continue Reading

My favourite Christmas? My favourite Christmas came when I was six years old and was told there was no such person as Father Christmas. Imagine the unbridled joy I experienced in discovering that I would no longer have to endure the arrival of a brandy-swilling intruder into my bedroom at 4.00 o’ clock in the morning for the simple reward of a few puzzles I couldn’t solve, an annual I couldn’t read and a sockful of nuts that I was allergic Continue Reading

And so, our next exhibit in the “Live In Chicago” collection (see here for this week’s other offering) pips ahead as favourite, purely by being an absolute bloody revelation. As Wilco are every single time they come along in fact. They are consistently adventurous, or at the very least curious, purveyors of alternative readings of traditional Americana, yet somehow manage to be consigned to the memory as trustworthy, which is never exciting. And in addition, Crud remembers being charmed into Continue Reading

Had I been in a more cynical frame of mind I could have summed this album up simply by pointing out that it feels like nothing more than a record company’s opportunistic attempts to foist another Avril Lavigne onto an unsuspecting world and could, quite happily, have left it there. However, I feel duty bound as a reviewer for this fine magazine to furnish the reader with a few more details. And so to work… Girl Next Door is a Continue Reading

Here’s the brief: self-styled painted rock demon, Gene Simmons of Kiss takes on a group of classical music students who attend the Christ’s Hospital School in Horsham, West Sussex and attempts to turn them into wannabe rock stars. Here’s the snag: none of them actually wants to be a rock star. Christ’s Hospital is one of the oldest boarding schools in England, and whilst the school is at pains to stress they are not a posh, public school for the Continue Reading

When Crud reviewed Blondie’s ‘Live By Request’ a couple of weeks ago it broke our hearts to report that for all its occasional flashes of magic it was a pale, pale imitation of their studio albums. And though it would be difficult to describe any kind of Blondie release thesedays as anything BUT a lumbering, predictable cash-in, this is exactly the kind of record we really wanted to account for: wall-to-wall platinum pop heaven. Only a goof-ball or a man Continue Reading

As luck would have it, Elliott Smith went and died before the film or its soundtrack ever came to completion. Needless to say, Thumbsucker director Mike Mills was left in a bit of a quandary; how best to portray the wretched melancholy of adolescence as depicted in the film without succumbing to said melancholy and committing suicide. Solution? Rope in Tim Delaughter of universal sunshine gang The Polyphonic Sprees and his 50-strong ensemble of white-robed misfits. Apocalyptic FBI assisted massacre Continue Reading

Bono: Rock Star 5000!. See all 3 set poses! Staggered hunch, integrated microphone stand, with optional extendable right arm! Pensive stance, arm protectively gathering in the other, head bowed! And all new for this year, the audience interaction model – including disorientated fan-boy seated uncomfortably beside Action Bono up on stage! You can lie him down for added dramatic effect yourself, if required. And you can of course pull a cord and hear some generic shouty motivational drivel too – Continue Reading