Imagine the amount of people out there right now, this second, clutching a Stooges record (any one will do, or ‘Funhouse’ if we have to choose) as if it’s the be all and end all. That’s all very well, nobody here’s suggesting Iggy and Co can or should have anything less than a profoundly heavy impact, still, even decades after their heyday, certainly not this man. Now try and think about the amount of bands who probably form as a Continue Reading
Is it just me, my age or my gender, or would the world really be an actual better place if 70s cop show theme tunes were piped constantly onto the streets, day and night, rain or shine? Christ, of course it would. And we’d all obviously be more use in The War Against Terrorism. They want us all to be more attentive? Well what better way? Every day you’d wake up, step out of the front door and straight into Continue Reading
Oh for first impressions to be forbidden. Or easily reversible. Of course this album suffers immeasurably from the weight of what has come before. Or what hasn’t. The last absolutely essential Placebo album was their ‘96 debut after all. And it’s unfortunate but impossible to listen to a single word or melody uttered mechanically from those cold poisonous urchin lips of his without a retched shiver miscarrying down your spine and immediately triggering your most tensed defences. Or at least Continue Reading
‘Oh Mother, oh Mother, why do you make me dress up in all your old clothes and make me murder all those young and notoriously pretty girls?’ Such is the incredulous state of any would be psycho that they’re never entirely sure whether what propels them is a childlike needing of control or a flagrant dismissal of it – and it’s here that we find Colin McKintyre – his Mother’s newly acquired motel in the remote, barren wasteland of Mull and Continue Reading
Final track off the top 10 ‘Daybreaker’ record, ‘Thinking About Tomorrow’ sees the Brit nominated Orton do pretty much what she does best: languid and drizzly reverie of the smoothest calibre. No surprises there then. As a reference point for the likes of Imogen Heap and Guy Sigsworth you couldn’t provide better. It’s that same slinky, none-too-offensive but ultimately drop dead gossamer production, the same heaving bosom of a husky female vocal crooning like candyfloss into the speaker, the same Continue Reading
The third instalment in the ongoing GPS Records saga, apparently,and successor to the seemingly well received ‘Harry The Guitar’, ‘Disco Scene’ and ‘Step On’ EPs. With Flamenco guitar all-a-jigglin’ and a-wrigglin’ and the insatiable patter of tiny congas and bongas, it’s a seductive enough affair. Classic nocturnal, 4.00am stuff. And make that a Sunday one too – with a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a mighty spliff in the other – and birds singing outside – with Continue Reading
Latecomers to camp Malkmus – those for whom this is no more than a second album – could be forgiven for grossly simplifying his appeal. Quirky, indie, oddball man from America with permanent drawn-on half grin, a satchel of mid-strength hum-able tunes and comfy slacks? It’s just that Rivers Cuomo from Weezer (or heaven forbid, that pointless twunt from Wheatus) minus some smugness and plus a few extra years, right? Granddad geek rock? Maybe, time will tell, but his history Continue Reading
There is a moment, about 3 minutes into opening track ‘The Plight of Losing Out’, when Jon Clough’s laden and unsure voice triumphantly breaks out of its shell, taking the lead before an ascending musical drama. Then there is calm. It’s nice, readers. And there are repeat moments like this one, when his strong, yearning words are swept up by atmospheric surges, intensified gluts of power, melodies both tender and obscene, and everything just comes together. Thud. Like that. Into Continue Reading
Canada. Butt of the occasional xenophobic joke. Or two. Quarantine-breached den of prolonged musical impotence. And, lest we forget, the place that put Elton John’s Di Death Mix of ‘Candle in the Wind’ at Number 1 for like a trillion and one weeks. We need to be reminded of these things, we don’t want them happening to us. But hey Canada, big guy, come back and give us a hug. All is hereby forgiven. So alright, you spent years trying Continue Reading
Fruity and funky loops, a mad as fuck stalker falsetto, a wacky playground approach to narrative, a macabre turn of phrase and heaps and heaps of incommensurable sadness – Baby Bird is back, only this time he’s Stephen Jones. Having only heard a bare but impressive minimum of Jones’ output prior to the monster of classic pop that was ‘You’re Gorgeous’ and ‘Goodnight’ I must rather cautiously attest that Jones is back doing what he does best: imponderably ruthless lo-fi and Continue Reading