From one of the most annoying songs in the history of music to one of its most annoying frontmen – neither are actually contained on this debut album from whopping 11-piece collective Edward Sharpe & The Magnificent Zeroes, but both are relevant. First up, ‘It Ain’t What You Do, It’s The Way That You Do It’; not actually the song itself, but the sentiment inherent in its title. There’s nothing here that is especially remarkable, except for perhaps its spirit. Continue Reading

I’m not a huge soul/r&b fan so it means something for me to say that this documentary, out on DVD in September, is one of my films of the year. In the early seventies Billy Paul hit the charts both sides of the Atlantic with his archetypal fine-wine-and-leopard-skin-rug soul classic ‘Me and Mrs.Jones’. However, his follow up single ‘Am I Black Enough for You’ flopped. Was his material too contentious for mainstream audiences? The documentary  – a mix of interviews Continue Reading

High hills, valleys, fields, stiles, white dogs, black dogs, yellow dogs, lame dogs, limping dogs, poachers, roaring gales, getting wet and endeavouring to procure lodgings for oneself with little more than eighteen pence. Not the kind of imagery apt to be thrown up by either Lily Allen or Little Boots admittedly (with the exception of poaching, perhaps) but in the context of James Yorkston, not entirely unpredictable, pretty much because Yorkston has been roaring the gospel, rolling the harr and Continue Reading

Some people rest on their laurels whilst others lay the full 140 pounds of their own body weight upon them and press down enthusiastically. Former Cranberries banshee, Dolores O’Riordan sadly conforms to the latter. In fact she nor any of her co-fruits have managed to offer anything genuinely worthwhile since their jangling, spectral debut spat up a handful of worthy hits in the mid-90s. ‘Zombie’ was disappointing, ‘Salvation’ was more disappointing still and ‘Ridiculous Thoughts’ was just plain ridiculous. So Continue Reading

Singers who can’t sing are intensely subjective and tricky things for reviewers. Sometimes they work for you, and sometimes they don’t and it’s hard to say why either way. Singers who can’t sing usually crawl along the root note of a chord occasionally leaping up to something higher before ducking back down to the safety of the Dah-na-nah. It’s hard for me to imagine John Lydon screaming ‘Anger is an energy’ any other way than the way he does it Continue Reading

You wouldn’t have thought Jon Thor Birgisson could get more grandiose as chief purveyor of Sigur Ros’s pensive majesty and sporter of occasionally baffling on stage regalia but he’s trying. Dispensing entirely with vocals, Riceboy Sleeps – consisting of Birgisson and partner Alex Somers – could cynically be viewed as an indulgent artistic sideline. Sharing much in common with the classical flourishes of Phelan Shepphard, Shearwater and, of course, the glacial splendour of Sigur Ros, it’s an album awash with Continue Reading

It’s ironic, isn’t it? The shorter the song, the more rhapsodic the review; the grittier the band, the more the write up becomes the literary equivalent of a Yes triple album. Well, Kong, are pretty punky so I don’t propose to bore you unduly with anything more than a few choice, spittle-flecked words… Music ->  more thrash than punk – loud and nasty but still (somehow) technically able.  Tight almost. Something like Fugazi. Vocals -> Yep, Johnny Rotten-esque. Everything from Continue Reading