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

There was a time when most rock-driven instrumental albums were the blood, sweat and tears of the bands oft overlooked keys man. They were usually long, protracted affairs, offering no small assortment of ideas and time signatures, but very little in the way of actual ‘songs’. And then there was the other side: the Rick Wakeman school of epic – the tower-block concepts, the sprawling orchestra, the cast of thousands – the faintest whiff of overproduction concealing an absence of 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

Ted Leo’s follow up to 2000s enormously well received (well, critically at least) “The Tyranny Of Distance“ is something of a revelation. Rather than wallowing in the furore of the ongoing rock revival and using the popular Ramone and Television blueprint against which to measure his awkward rebellion, Leo lifts licks and pulls punches from peculiarly English icons like Dexys Midnight Runners, Elvis Costello, Billy Bragg, The Specials and Thin Lizzy – the working-class cream of the 80s rather than Continue Reading

Sorry, sir? You were expecting something a little more ‘now’ as a side-helping with your indie this morning? More ‘now’ than this? C’mon, The Kills are so painfully of today (of fly-by-night media obsessions, of recycled fashion, of undying rock n roll mythology, of various forms of denial) they’re practically the day after tomorrow already. They’re a duo. There’s no bass. They’re shamelessly raw and retro. They wear t-shirts and denim. They look a bit grubby and rough round the Continue Reading

This is a strange film. For those who know, only three words are needed to explain quite how so: Being John Malkovich. This is the follow-up to that film. Well, follow-up in the sense it comes after it, and even overlaps, but isn’t a sequel. But is in the sense that it’s a similarly unique product of a creative explosion between the colliding minds of screenplay writer Charlie Kaufman and director Spike Jonze (yep, him of Beastie Boys, Weezer, Fatboy Continue Reading

Taken from the Krautpop duo’s second album, White Noise, Burning Up sees the band sidestepping the traditional pull of bleak, androgynous techno beatz by coming up with a crafty and enjoyably catchy tune. Not the first time too. A couple of years ago, 77 Sunset Strip managed to conjure up all the whimsical exuberance of early OMD as much as it heralded the early onslaught of electroclash: pithy, to the point and with a distinctive, running loop as downright hooky Continue Reading

It does indeed seem very strange that the artist formerly known as relevant and legitimate can now be witnessed trading thinly experimental electronica. Bob Mould, yes he of seminal alternative rock bands, Hüsker Dü, and Sugar and who was recently featured on VH1’s 100 Greatest Artists of Hard Rock, is now championing the all but hopeless lost cause that is his not so cleverly disguised ‘Loudbomb’ moniker. More famous for his overdriven guitar-charged punk rock Mould is tinkering with gizmos Continue Reading

It seemed almost inevitable that I would start by throwing in casual – hell, perhaps even lazy – references to Lemon Jelly, Zero 7 – hell – even Air – but hand on heart, for every vagary of likeness there’s a candy-coloured mongrel of disparity amongst the quotes. Avoiding the frivolous detachment of the mighty Jellies, and the maverick obstinacy of the KY: collection, Nottingham’s Bent (Simon Mill, ex-giggler and Nail Tolliday, ex rave controller) follow up first official release, Continue Reading