Of course, by now, we all know punk rock to be an utter sham, a charade at best hijacked by those who don’t give a fuck when in fact the opposite has to be the key to its appeal. But it is still a thrill to find somebody breaking all the fucking rules, if they’re doing it properly. Not just that, but doing it in a way that leaves some residual trace of its existence behind. And to do this Continue Reading

Australia are hardly notorious for fielding successful leftfield electronic artists. In fact, I can’t name one. Not outside new spiky electro outfit, The Presets, anyway. True, our buzzin’, beeping, boopin’ love affair with the early eighties is nothing new. Fischerspooner, She Wants Revenge, Clear Static, Miss Kittin, Ladytron, Goldfrapp all heap on the Mode, the Order and the League in one way or another, and ‘Beams’ is really no different. In fact the resemblance to any of the above is Continue Reading

A band without a vocalist does not an instrumental band make, and though the lush thrill of the arpeggio guitars, the bee-like drone of the bass and the thumping apocalypse of the drums on album opener ‘It Must Be Called Intelligence If People Stop When They Realize They Are Not To Become What They Are Wishing To Be’ teases and cajoles with its warm, fuzzy logic, Té are not the next Sigur Ros on the evidence of this release alone. Continue Reading

Mansfield. A market town but without remarkables. At least that’s what economic journalist, spy and Robinson Crusoe novelist, Daniel Defoe said in his book ‘A Tour Through The Whole Island of Great Britain’ in the late 1700s. But things have changed a bit since the late 1700s. Now Mansfield has a town, a theatre, a population of 99,300 and Alvin Stardust. Mansfield also used to play host to Venue 44, birthplace of the ‘Renaissance’, ‘Hot to Trot’ and ‘Vibealite’ club Continue Reading

He’s lovely isn’t he? The boy in the beaten-up velvet jacket, the dashing mutton-chops, the combined musical ability of a 32 piece symphony orchestra, the lightly inebriated inconsequence, the delicious melodies? Ed Harcourt turns up at our backdoor again, bottle of chardonnay in one hand, cigarette in the other, a copy of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s ‘Sonnets From The Portuguese’ stuffed down his ample breeches, and scores of gentle scars on his soul. The rakish collector of weird and wonderful instruments Continue Reading

Look, let’s try and keep this even briefer. Steve Reid is still the legendary drummer who in 1964 at 19 years of age played on Martha Reeves & the Vandellas’ ‘Dancing In The Street’ before moving on to play with Miles Davis, Fela Kuti, James Brown, Fats Domino, Sun Ra, Peggy Lee, Chaka Khan, Dexter Gordon, Dionne Warwick and a big, broad, lolloping spectrum of other legends. And Kieran Hebden still considers his life to have changed since meeting him. Continue Reading

For a moment there I was almost hoodwinked into believing that Viva was an abbreviation of ‘Vegetarians International Voice for Animals’. But that’s bloody search-engines for you. Now I know it’s a different kettle of fish entirely. More bums than buns and more tits than tatties. Viva is one of the those Ibiza things. A sun, sea and shagging thing. I’d love to say I’ll see you there, but I’m much more likely to be tipping deckchairs in Cleethorpes this Continue Reading

It’s art-rock time with The Blue Aeroplanes again. The ‘Planes first appeared on the indie scene in the 90’s – a spirited collective of musicians (and I seem to recall, a dancer who came across as a posh Bez) creating soundtracks over which poet Gerard Langley chanted and almost-sang his spiked, left-field lyrics. And while this may all sound like a geeky Happy Mondays, there was a verve and ambition to it all that earned them both critical acclaim and Continue Reading

What I know about reggae you could write on the back of a very, very small matchbox indeed. In fact you could write it on the fat, rosy head of matchstick for that matter. Reggae for me is Bob Marley, Desmond Dekker and Gregory Isaacs. Strike that (not the match, but the statement). Reggae for me is Aswad, Musical Youth and an anonymous roll-call of spliff rolling, hat wearing scary people. Very, very scary black people who like to smoke Continue Reading