Talk about finding a diamond in the rough, a winning scratchcard you don’t recall buying in your back pocket, or the love of your life at a Hard-Fi gig (ok, possibly we have gone too far). Scout Niblett has proved herself over the course of four albums, even with the best will in the world on the part of the listener, to be an experience somewhat akin to conducting dentistry with a plastic ‘spork’. Her art has at points consisted Continue Reading

One cannot be too ambitious, can they? No, of course not, you’ve heard the sayings; the world’s yer oyster, the sky’s the limit, no sleep till Brooklyn, etc. Advice that Oceansize clearly ingested whole prior to recording their debut album, 2003’s swelling ‘Effloresce’, which soared through a metaphorical stratosphere or two, at least, on a journey towards the event horizon. You might have called it titanium reinforced progressive rock, or a post-rock space odyssey, but whatever it was it felt Continue Reading

It’s few people who can actually boast that their collapsing disaffection for the vicissitudes of modern British life can be best defined by refusing to sing in their native vernacular and resorting to Spanish and Italian to complete an album. But that’s Robert Wyatt – the man with the impossibly poignant voice, a five octave vocal range challenged only by a rather unassuming and unpretentious Home Counties accent and wheelchair bound purveyor of all lusty absurdities of war and peace Continue Reading

Arriving with their much lauded 4AD debut, ‘Gulag Orkestar’, early last year, Beirut – from, of course, Albuquerque, USA, joining a growing list of geographically deceptive bands –  achieved a feat by conditioning multi-pronged Eastern European folk of a vaguely experimental bent and introducing it to Western ears, making the impenetrable deliciously intoxicating. Stacks of instruments largely underused by popular music since the 16th century assimilated into hypnotic meshes of sashaying organic sound. And they, along with The Arcade Fire Continue Reading

Post rock by its very nature – expansive and indeed expanding musical landscapes created usually by several interacting musicians, in dim light – is not likely to produce much in the way of carbon reproduction. Near approximations, naturally, but there are too many variables and intricacies for mimicry to be easily practiced. Yet equally it’s hard to consider the growing hoards who gather like creeping moss in winter, claiming membership of its clique, and believe that active evolution takes place Continue Reading

Dirty, scratchy, funky, skunky hardcore courtesy of Breakin Bread, the Funk & Hip Hop collective, based in South London and specialists in the kind of funk and hip hop common to B-Boying, Turntablism, MCing and Graffiti. The label also hosts the clubnight at The Social in London’s West End. Color Climax are Paul Toller and Steve Ashby who are based in Coventry. Steve plays the Hammond organ, who’s style is reminiscent of Alan Hawkshaw from the Mohawks “The Champ“ fame, Continue Reading

I have a couple of issues with this release, the first is that the lifeless DIY cover-shot in no way prepares you for the slick, occasionally saccharine content therein and the second is that for all it’s obvious graces, the single featuring Felix of Basement Jaxx, ‘I’m Your Lover’ is by far the biggest draw here. And yet both are something of a non-sequitur, neither reinforcing nor diminishing the swanky smooth ‘Jazzanova’ of tracks like ‘Wishing’ and ‘Don’t Take It Continue Reading

Jeez. What a history. Bet it didn’t happen like this at Rough Trade. Legend has it that Death Row was founded and funded largely due to money given to Dr Dre bodyguard and friend, Suge Knight by convicted drug dealer Michael “Harry-O“ Harris who was serving a prison sentence at the time. It was also reported that Knight posted bail for the then-incarcerated Tupac Shakur in exchange for his signing with Death Row. Add to this the controversy that surrounded Continue Reading

“You seem a trifle unhappy, that I’m a cowardly custard” (‘Cowardly Custard’). King Creosote – aka the meandering melody gatekeeper Kenny Anderson – has a way with words. Namely that rhymes and turns of phrase that we would probably rain a hurricane of disdain down upon if they had come from one of the Gallagher brothers’ mouths, he somehow makes work. He carries one of those intrinsically wavering folk voices, like a faulty Theremin lazily trying to shake itself out Continue Reading

The Simpsons might be past its genre-defying, multi-referencing, tummy-tickling best, but it can still pluck a gag from the most unlikely of sources. And that’s why we love it. But there’s still something a little spurious about taking all the disparate musical items and shoving them out on one CD. It’s a bit like compiling a collection of punchlines without recourse to the rest of the joke. It’s a context thing. Take the situation out of situation comedy and you Continue Reading