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‘No Stop’. Quite so, as the 55’s kick in with a rock n’roll that sticks a cattle prod behind unsuspecting knees creating a new skiddy judder – a dance style all of their own. The rhythms get slippery and Beefheartian on ‘Humdinger’, while ‘Spanish Song’ is one part scatter-gun-ho and the other part reflective. On ‘Aim At Me’, they offer up a rattlin’ jangle that Weddoes fans would appreciate. The root of excitement is not over-indulging and not allowing time for people to get bored. The 55’s understand this and shake music by the lapels to get it to wake up to this fact. That said though, they only make dents in their own mould during the 16 tracks. If it ain’t broke though… Skif
Absent Kid build through the opening elliptical ‘(…)’ and ‘Quiet Playground’ until the full unleashing of the latter. It feels harnessed, like they could delve deeper, but its an effective introduction to their atmospheric indie rock. Theremin-style spook tops up ‘Static Soul’s swirling dramatics, while a quality pop vocal hook on ‘This Town Works Backwards’ takes it higher. Pepped-up n’ plucked post-rock dynamism in places with a Scott Walker-like confidence, and a punkish drive elsewhere, and we like that. Skif
Nicely laboured pluck, bitty bleeps and backfacing swashes, vocals cracking under the pressure of nervous energy. The harmonic ethics of TV On The Radio and the wide-eyed folketeering of fellow Gira-protégé Devendra Banhart. All this in opener ‘Before And Again’, sets us up nicely for Beach Boys harmonies elsewhere, the clink rattle of stoner-country shanty ‘Italy’ and the slender but passionate chant of ‘Franny/You’re Human’. These are apparently edited version of live epics and, admittedly, it does have the feel of a sampler, but there are sublime moments such as ‘Suchness’ where rusty water pipes are seemingly tapped in a itinerant attempt to explore pitch. Akron/Family twist the arm of folk-music behind its own back and bark in its ear to keep up with the times. Folk music complies. Skif
Alto 45 have a formula but like to fuck with it. ‘Let’s Go Out’ marches to a musket and fife drumbeat, encircle themselves with dreamy electronica and a voice in need of a first full night’s sleep in a good while. ‘The Plan’ is more like Clinic without the wiriness and with more attention to feeling relaxed than to intricate detail. ‘Fell Down Stairs’ is a campfire acoustic strum, a touch of the isolation of living at a geographical extremity, cut off from bustle. Whether or not alto45 live near the action, I know not, but they capture the feeling in a similar way to many of the more eccentric Welsh acts. That is just the albums first 3 tracks. Like Fonda 500, they verge on the ramshackle but are remarkably deft. Bowlie-pop given a little electronic pizzazz, but with a root (such as on ‘Moses Gunn’ and ‘Sleep & TV’) in Sufjan-like upbeat folk. Skif
Three-part ten-minute epic to open and 65 further minutes of high concept to follow, this odd release is all the work of Ariel Pink on an 8 track recorder. It is certainly used to it’s full potential whilst retaining a lo-fi abrasive bent. ‘Trepanated Earth’ is the sound of Blue-Nile calm aggressively minced through early 80’s radio-pop, but allowed to indulge its warped-prog with discor(-)dance. It goes on like this, in that it’s not like this, consistently regenerating. Indeed, it is a single-minded eccentric record that encompasses the spirit of Beefheart, Krautrock, 80s US hardcore, grime, glitchcore and dada-ism whilst not really being of or like any of it. In fairness, you’ll likely check your watch throughout, but be glad that you stayed the course. Skif
Solo project of Duncan Redmonds, vocalist and drummer of Snuff who plays and sings every note of this album. This obviously retains the melodic nature of Snuff but is much heavier in delivery and has more of an alt-rock feel about it. He whips through twelve tracks in half an hour with little let up in the frantic pace but each track is top notch in the quality bracket, brimming with chunky guitar, lush vocal melodies and non-stop clattering drums. How much talent can one bloke have? Grebo
Despite the title alluding to this being a collection of previously released material, this is a release of all new material. Hardcore jungle breaks are punctuated by catchy stabs and riffs. It would be easy to claim “we’ve heard it all before.” But while the beats rarely stray from established ground, the whole adds up to something a bit special. There are some choice, tasty sounds at work here and the Darth Vader sample on 'Merda Style 2004' even manages to sound threatening. The track comes on like 'Charly' for the suited generation. Buzzin'. Leon Michael Tricker
“Yes and no are just distinguished by distinction, so we choose the inbetween”. As a lyric, it’s quite apt to sum up the nature of the LP. Think of two poles, the Books would occupy the space between both without ever touching the central points. Flickering whining tones, hide n’ seek subtle guitar motifs, a vigorous shake of a full cutlery draw. Sounds without genre, without obvious equal. For example, on ‘Be Good To Them Always’, latter day radio commentary is given to windy electronica, with a touch of the stubborn cuteness of ‘O Superman’s vocoder poetry amongst. ‘It Never Changes To Stop’ sees banjo duel with cello and a vocal that causes them to embrace. ‘Venice’ is warm and humorous, a recording of surrealist art taken to extremes bobbing on a salivary rhythm. Skif
A Leeds and Birmingham based duo, not exactly as wide a divide as The Kills in their early days, but still inconvenient. Despite their gap, they create seemingly quite flighty indie pop-rock, but with guitars providing an intriguing underbelly. It’s commercially appealing, being tip-top songwriting given a subtle quirk, such as the bounce of ‘I Haven’t Got Any Famous Friends’ and the Ben Folds chirp of ‘A Very British Earthquake’. Skif
The sound of a man isolated in a Montana shack, cackling to himself while rocking back and forth doesn’t differ radically from Charles E. Cullen’s psycho-psychedelic blues schtick. If country music found itself locked naked in a dark, dripping cellar and forced to live on mosses and insects for a year or two, the eventual LP document might sound like this, once it’d been warped and melted. Severely twisted humour is yelped from his lips throughout songs like ‘Young Gay Monkey On Rollerskates’, ‘Your Mum Smells Like Urine’ and ‘I Got A Rare Poultry Disease’. It is surely no surprise to learn that he day jobs as a chicken farmer, hosting a public access show on the creatures, whilst also building an empire of low-budget ultra-violent film-making. Should he be encouraged? I’ll leave that to your conscience. Skif
One assumes this is a band familiar with smoking jackets and the playing of wine glasses. This debut LP proper highlights their assured, but reserved, sophistication. Gentle brass and hollowed out torch keyboards wind down heavy evenings on ‘Starlite Ballroom’, while ‘pop-nugget ‘You’re The Prettiest Thing’ gets mesmerised by the slow turn of a disco ball. Wispish flute crops up on ‘Good Morning’ and plaintive violin likewise on ‘Stopped Clocks’ amongst the tock-tock glock. On top of, Steve Kirk has a fine smoky, glottal croon that adds richness to their melancholic folk-soul, which hides an electronic glint behind drooping eyelids. Skif
German band that started life as a Misfits cover band, hence the name and have taken that influence, beefed it up with a serious amount of metal and are now Leaving The Tomb. They sound, as you would expect them to, fast paced horror punk rock with slabs of metallic guitar driving it to death. This is fun in that dressing up in white face paint, calling yourself Reverend, Vlad, The Jackal, Monstrosity and running around a graveyard naked and drunk at midnight. The rotting whiff of The Misfits leaves it’s mark all over this but these Ghosts have reanimated the corpse and are proudly howling away. Grebo
Two former members of Galaxie 500, Damon and Naomi utilise these records to push the envelope of cloudy, fluttering pop music. ‘A Second Life’ takes Sandy Denny to it’s modern calm and ambient conclusion. Gorgeous. On ‘Malibran’ they perform a naïve-jazz with Wyatt-esque fragility, which they also apply to their cover of ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’. This LP is a soft, empathic rubs of a sufferer’s forearm, accessible but with something for Wire-readers to latch onto. Skif
Combining the fuzzy guitars of new wave, the rustic and friendly vocals oft seen in the folk genre and most importantly firing deep, witty and dark punk style lyrics reminiscent of the late great Joe Strummer, Dead Blonde Girlfriend eclectically quench diverse musical thirsts. The darkest and most poignant number on this lacerating offering that dissects the topic of loneliness and the power of love (especially when you don’t possess it) is ‘February 14’. The plight of a lacklustre jilted lover who explores all the ways of coming to an untimely end on Valentines Day, in the hope that the object of his desire will discover his body on that very day is delivered in a brusque manner. There is little respite from the bleak subject matter as the prospect of love hanging itself is raised. It is akin to being handed a crude bloody heart wrapped in the prettiest pink wrapping paper with cupid posing proactively all over it. Deep stuff; dive in and enjoy the depth. David Adair
Post Rock is fast becomimg a packed, trendy and exlusive club, which is starting to spill out in to mediocre copies of the greats. With this in mind I listened to Detwiije debut offering with trepidation. It would be too easy to lazily compare Detwiije to Explosions in the Sky meets 'A Silver. Mt Zion' and although they are similar, Detwiije manage to bring something new to the Post Rock scene, namely, four tracks of superbly written and beautifully crafted music, lulling you in to a dream like soundscape, you can almost feel your heartbeat syncing with the rise and fall of the music. Plus the opening track features the most stunning full stop ever..... nice. Black Squirrel
Think the bass is the most uncool instrument? Dirtbombs’ll give you two. Drums then? Nah, two sets of them too. The Dirtbombs, you’ll understand, DO rhythm, a funky soul-ridden garage rock n’ roll kinda rhythm that refuses to follow any set pattern, any set of rules that have been laid down prior. Show the evidence? Well, on the 29 track CD of original music, they scream “I’m saving myself for Nichele Nichols” into a dictation mic during 55 seconds of undulating, passionate distortion, before ‘Here Comes That Sound Again’ skips and scuttles through a kind of disco-hop thang. The 23 track disc of covers versions sees them paying tribute to expected suspects such as the Rolling Stones, Stevie Wonder and Smokie Robinson alongside Soft Cell, Yoko Ono and The Bee Gees and a wide range of underground (and overground) heros. The ultimate Dirtbombs collection. Skif
Vibrant and expressive controlled chaos, like Porno for Pyros with an even bigger tiger in their tank or perhaps a more streamlined Mars Volta. ‘Forward!’ has aspects of Beefheart’s desert sound flecked by new wave posture. Their angular swing is kept light, the bursts of energy (sheens, squeal and guitar-sirens) not being too much for my radar, but probably better appreciated in the live environment. Skif
There are two immediate favourites as ‘Hammer In My Skull’ provides a thick, swampy take on Grandaddy’s twinkled eyed scuzz. The bass pulses grab the boots and clinging on while the guitars dance the seven veils. Then it flips into Kyuss-style glam rock. To follow this is ‘Secret Parts’, which shows up some Hefner-like Casio tenderness. Two sides to this story, the sonic adventures dense but dynamic, allowing breathing space, such as on ‘Harsh Kingdom’. ‘Wish Me Dead’ is an LP that doesn’t batter, it negotiates on the back foot, but gets what it wants. Skif
The Fat Cats have delivered an uplifting album that is a hybrid of punk, rock, ska and raw rockabilly sounds. Reading that you’d believe it was a real mess of sounds but they’ve managed to mix them up and integrate all the influences into one classy sound. Think of bands like The Mighty Mighty Bosstones and their crunching mix of ska and hardcore, sprinkle that with the rockabilly vibes and some good time swing and you are somewhere in the area. A fun album with all the swinging grooves, their live show must be a killer. Grebo
The Flesh set up shop with a cacophony of synths, imposing drums and a kind of gothic hip-hop vocal echoing Mike Patton’s less vigorous moments. There is a darkness, but in the sense that there is camp poppy fluidity tip-toeing like a comic-spectre. This is particularly so on the tricksy ‘Sweet Defeat’, which also nods toward the ragged splendour of Dexy’s. You expect intensity from this album, but get a kind of candle-extinguishing rush, like Suicide dismantling the ‘Monster Mash’. Skif
The Free French’s first LP dealt with breaking up, the second with getting together with someone. As the title suggests, this is all about taking it up a gear and setting up a new home. Concept LPs about urban domestics make a welcome change to fantastical tales about King Arthur, certainly. The inlay card is like a brochure for the dream apartment, while the record sums up deal with the problems and pleasures of moving in together through lounge-jazz electronica, ambience with the soft pull of classic indie-pop and 80’s era mainstream-skirters like Johnny Hates Jazz and Then Jericho. A hint of Gene’s learned melancholy also adds to the sense of sophisticated dapperness summing up perfectly the excitement and ennui of getting’ all mature. Skif
Portsmouth’s very own The Gasman (AKA Christopher Reeves…no, really!) is something a bit special. Yes, I do have a auto-reflex bias for acts from my hometown, but even taking that into account this stands head and shoulders above the crowd. Reeves’ real talent is in simply being himself. For sure he is influenced by the Warp Records stable. But rather than rehash derivative loops he conjures up soundscapes that come across like Lynch-ian nightmares. Could this double album (like most doubles) benefit from some trimming around the edges? Maybe, but that kind of misses the point. The Gasman is the most uncompromising artist I’ve come across in a long while. Exceptional. Leon Michael Tricker
“I like short songs” sang Jello Biafra, for about 20 seconds. It appears from this rapid-fire LP that Giant Haystacks second that emotion. The ‘stacks cut, chime and clip with their guitars at once recalling Beefheart atonal-blues, whilst also submersing themselves in electrically-charged, post-punk waters –a combination best espoused on ‘Valour’. ‘Catatonic State’ is perfect as an opener, fitting with the pop of the recent new-wave cap-doffers (Franz, Futureheads) without being verbose or over-produced. While skirting with the zeitgeistyness, Giant Haystacks nonetheless stand alone. Skif
Hell Is For Heroes emerge alive and kicking from major label hell and get back to doing it DIY style and sound all the better for it as they clatter into Kamichi, the opening track on this album. It’s a big middle finger to the corporate labels as they power through an intense set of songs with a new found fire in their bellies. HIFH sound fresh and can vary from delicate guitar lines to full on rage within seconds as on ‘Quiet Riot’ that is dark and brooding while ‘Models For The Programme’ starts with a drum machine and is lean bass led exercise in flexing muscles. Overall an impressive return full of anger, energy and playing to their strengths. Grebo
There’s a whole lotta Golightly to go around and this sampler is just the ticket for dipping those first toes into the water, preceding as it does a full back catalogue re-release. Not that older fans are left out as older non-Damaged Goods tracks and new bits are offered as new recordings alongside a smattering of tracks from 6 of her 13 solo LPs. Considering the Headcoatees efforts and White Stripes collaborations are overlooked, you will get an idea of the plethora of material that exists. There surely is no finer modern day purveyor of the ol’ fashioned slinky garage snake dance. Skif
Couple of albums worth over 2CDs showcasing, possibly in the entirety, the quality, dextrous instrumental rock n’ roll of The Invisible Surfers which leans more toward Link Wray than Dick Dale’s thunderous abrasive assault. This is music for a thousand car chases and a thousand veiled dances. They are the coolest, most enigmatic mutes plundering the surf in that dark corner of the beach bar. Skif
The overhype does nothing for the Kaiser Chiefs potential longevity, and the backlash will come quick, and those ambivalent will find themselves provoked to comment to the negative, rather than saying nothing. Such is the lot of the new next big thing that becomes the big thing before you can finish the word ‘potential’. However I have a soft spot for Kaiser Chiefs. Why? Well, during my year in Leeds I spent a fair shake of time at the Joseph’s Well venue and half of these boys were working behind the bar at that time. It’s very superficial I know but if you want a backlash to these dapper fellas and their post-baggy, post-mod thing, it’ll begin somewhere else than here. Skif
Shimmering and pulsating, Kelley Stoltz provides with ‘Perpetual Night’, Alka-Seltzer wake-up folk, a plink and a fizz creating an effervescent out-of-body thing. ‘Underwater’s Where The Action Is’ is more caustic, but with a spring in it’s step. A love of British left-field pop from 60’s and 80’s shines through the one-man-band rattle. ‘One Thousand Rainy Days’ proves that he has a good handle on the blues too, keeping the modern touches to a minimum and evoking the spirit of a 30’s juke joint. ‘Please Visit Soon’ has the hop and skip of a Beckian nursery rhyme. A pleasingly eclectic, but rock solid record. Skif
This is it. The second and final LP. Kinesis’ last hurrah. And so young. However check the distorted, thunderous and gripping ‘Everything You Thought You Knew To Be’, and you can see for why they’ll be missed. A Rage Against The Machine with a few Muse’s histrionic flourishes and a pop-hardcore aesthetic. They have certainly grown in stature since being the recipients off too-early hype, and are astute and powerful rock songwriters (although the ballads need thinking about, perhaps). As individual players, we have not seen the last of them. Skif
Immediately with ‘Hot Stenographer’, you can appreciate Kinski’s love for deep, old school metal guitars, and the intensity of repetition that comes from Krautrock pummelling unrepentantly. ‘Wives Of Artie Shaw’ cuts and kids a bit more, but it’s not long before the build. This is such an emotional album, a surprise for something so direct, tough and, as it be, without words. It guides the listener through the science of heightened feeling, and causes a similar effect in itself. Intense, but not brutal, such as the atmospheric breeze of ‘The Snowy Parts Of Scandinavia’ that blows gently toward the avalanche cacophony. Skif
A colourful conglomeration of nimble New York C & W, folk, blues, rock, punk and funk with an eccentric element that is illuminated by front man and blues harpist Col. J.D. Wilkes. A friendly opening is produced in ‘Agony Wagon’ that has a Spanish siesta style intro, giving the Col’s outfit a cultured touch before turning into a good old fashioned C & W romp. The spirit of this ebullient outfit and their diversity is on full show in; ‘Where’s The Devil When You Need Him?’. This song is the epitome of the rock n roll spirit, as well as possessing some satirically satanic humour, with the finishing touch being a marching drum beat that drives you onto the dance floor. Their eccentricity and playful spirit reaches its summit in the whacky ‘Cussin’ In Tongues’ that contains frantic instrumentals and obscure Bob Log111 style vocals, but the distorted rooster sounds scattered within win the noise of the day award. The guys slow down and take on a thoughtful guise in ‘The Pony To Bet On’ that laments the ravages of time. Variety is provided by the inclusion corking cover of the Sonny Boy Williamson/Willie Dixon bold blues number; ‘Help Me’, whereby an appreciation of a variety of music is illuminated and, indeed; illuminating. David Adair
On ‘Animal Hop’ there are found farm sounds, hip-hop beats, a timid miaow appearing every few bars and children’s TV tuba. To follow ‘Drum N’ Berceuse’ takes the Listen With Mother theme and, as the tin implies, underscores drum n’ bass but not so as to overwhelm it’s innocence. ‘My Crow’s Soft Sounds’ are computer incidentals swept up and crushed like the already crumbed. ‘Blue Parsley’ is an ominous dark wood/dancing nymph/Dr. Who orchestral. This is a collection of EPs and these highlight the variant strands of Sarah Nelson’s muse with ambient prog-electro (‘July pt. 1’), bubbling Ozric dial-up threat (‘Frogs Sing, Birds Dance’), thunderous light industry (‘Om-pa-cha-pap-cha-pap’) and Stevie Wonder twirling on the spot (‘My Dog’s Got No Nose’). Wonderfully eccentric, a la People Like Us, sampling and cutting to her quirky, cheery end. This is isolated music, but wholesome, inventive but uglybeautiful and cosy. Skif
‘Understanding Heavy Metal’ is not an easy task, but it’s a novel approach to go about it using dreamy pop with horns and harmonicas flailing limpy, rather than chucking in the screaming grindcore. It works though, brings goosebumps to my face. It comes in 2 parts n’all with a glitchy, glockenspiely, but relaxed instrumental bringing our understanding to a steady, beautiful close. On ‘Homerun’ they hold notes teetering, tilting up before the emotive drone plummets. There are touches of Mazzy Star, of, Tindersticks, of ‘Dog On Wheels’, of Low in their sheet silver sonics. This is a perfectly paced record perking up when necessary, allowing good notes the floor when worthy. With pedal steels, theremins and banjos in their arsenal., its like it brushes against your arm, light to the touch, but enough to spin you off your axis. Skif
No Lovejoy, don’t be silly. There’s plenty out there who like you, I’m sure. Nowt to be insecure abowt, it’s a very decent indie-pop LP this. The vocals are breathy, like David Gedge given whispering lessons by Ella Guru. Certainly the Wedding Present influence here seems heavy, although the cloudy synths push it more into Cinerama territory. There’s a delicate plink around the piano upon the Windmills cover ‘Drug Autumn’ while ‘Soundcastles’ twists the guitars back upon themselves. An easing and consoling LP with a title that suggests they need a bit of shoulder themselves. Skif
With The Magic Band, you get intricacy, but you also get the blunt blows of raw blues, John French’s grizzled roar echoing the retired Captain Beefheart perfectly. It may sound, at times, like it’s all over the place, haphazard, but it’s all in the script and when you get locked into that expert atonal subgroove, such as on ‘My Human Gets Me Blues’, there is no desire for, or possibility of, escaping it. This music may be an acquired taste, but once acquired it scripts your very love of music from then on. For me, it changed the rules and opened up a whole new range of possibilities. If you’ve not seen the Magic Band live, this excellently recorded concert CD is ESSENTIAL, for ‘The Floppy Boot Stomp’, for ‘Electricity’, for ‘Moonlight On Vermont’, and frankly all the others pieces on here. Amazing songs forever shrouded in mystery, now reborn, brought back to life by those who played out such significant roles at different stages of the Beefheart enigma. In a world dominated by pedestrian rhythm and lazy marketing, we need the Magic Band now more than ever. Skif
The vocals are cold, but spiritual. It is perhaps campfire folk for when only dying embers remain. It would seem also that Nadler would feel quite at home in a warm rustic bar, filled with smoke and little chatter. As the fingers pick the strings on ‘Fifty Five Falls’, the rhythm bounds quickly up and down, but the pace of the vocal schemata remains captivatingly constant. The slight echo effect lends a kind of ghostly Sioux mysticism to these death tales, suicide notes and such. The words, some of which are borrowed from Poe and Naruda, occupy a foreboding, claustrophobic woe. There have been deaths here, sure, but the souls still float around the body, swooping and dancing, turning stillness into a biting chill. For we bystanders, the memories are likely to remain vivid. Skif
Jorge Stibero, a Portuguese chap now resident in Glasgow, with no musical experience embarked on a project to record a trilogy of LPs based around novels written by his parents: The Magnificent Duke; Duke Pandemonium and The Death Of The Duke. This single LP, recorded with fellow musical miscreant Brian Jessop highlights the three schizophrenic personalities of ‘The Duke’ by dividing the songs into categories: ‘When the world explodes’; ‘When the world implodes’; and ‘When the world corrodes…’. So a concept album then, and a complex one, as it deals with each personality song by song from the Mike Patton style croon2scream2croon and rhythm-breaking cut n’ paste jazz-rock of ‘The Red And The Number’ to the ominous pulping tread of ‘Fridge and Fromage’ picked at with castanets. Then the cycle begins again and it skarts, blugs and fricks with projectile over-excitement. At the same time it is also prog taken to submarinal depths, swaying on the pulses beneath the ocean floor. Intricate yet bludgeoning, and amongst the chaos, genuine balladeering pearls like ‘A Conspiracy & A Devil’. Genres jostling for position, this is like to be of interest to students of human behaviour. Astonishing. Skif
Frail piano torch songs delivered as though melancholia is both symptom and cure. The gap between useful catharsis and total heartbroken collapse is cigarette paper thin. The vocals are pitched high – not so vulgar as to be full of whine and shriek, rather these are careful whispers offering a close-up of a soul weighed down by this world where swords will always be crossed rather than melted down. This is a heart always full of life and love. It is like a resigned sigh expanding its musical repertoire, but when the guitars crash on ‘Yeah Eventually She Goes’, the woe becomes emphatic. Skif
Rhythmic tap-tap-battering, an intravenous method of creeping beneath skin to enliven. The bombed scuzz of guitars and the pleading nature of the vox make for grippin’ and a-not-let-goin’. ‘Different Universes’ be the song of which I speak, and what a cracking opener. ‘While You’re Sleepin’ is peppy, like a Weezer eyebrow, but not overly poppy. At the rear of ‘Knowledge That I Keep’ there are even echoes of a dub scatter-gun creeping up on the alt-rock proceedings. This is a record that won’t announce itself at parties, but will be met with eager handshakes by all in the room. Skif
The crisp and flowing vocals of Will Sheff give this dreamy and poetic offering an earnest feel. The yearning and damning blues tainted; 'A Stone' sees Sheff stoically proclaiming that love is hurtful and painstaking at times. The power of dreams is scrutinised by way of nifty number; 'In A Radio Song'. This is done by incorporating a soft and tingling piano introduction, before the twanging acoustic element demonstrate darkly and poetically bedtime dangers. Instrumental diversity that incorporates the utilisation of a variety of effects, carefully extracted from equipment as varied as children's keyboards and distorted guitars to a pump organ and a Wurlitzer is apparent and appealing. Thus helping to glide through a variety of genres from dark, yet warming indie/pop in 'Black' to folk/country in 'Get Big' and sprightly power pop in 'The Latest Toughs'. Trickles of Clem Snide, Idlewild, Tom McRae and Hall & Oates run through this offering, a brave and thought provoking journey of emotion and unrest. This journey is elongated by the maudlin marathon that is 'So Come Back, I Am Waiting'. This fourth album shows that some seemingly still rivers really do run deep. David Adair
Upon the original idea for the wedding, Oneida put together a giant musical box out of industrial motor parts, saw blades and such. Nails and spikes at strategic intervals made for some shocking sonics and these acted as underlay for a magic carpet of romantic tunage that are captured here, having added the string arrangements of Fireworks Ensemble’s Brian Caughlin. Indeed, the tracks have been developed so far that the original music box tracks are hidden or have disappeared completely. A separate release, ‘The Weeding’, is threatened. The individuality of the start of their journey is mirrored in it’s end as Oneida have upped the ante for alternative rock bands everywhere. The back spin of ‘Lavender’ is allied to a strident guitar riff and incessant guitar tap that is powerfully hypnotic. In that way, it feels a bit like ‘Trout Mask Replica’ – a thousand secrets held within, to be revealed only when you’re ready and over time. Indeed there is quite a Beefheartian rhythmic bent applied to the Druid blues of ‘The Beginning Is Nigh’. The typically claustrophobic Oneida sound is given to haunting fairground melancholy on ‘Charlemagne’, to kettle drum menace on ‘Heavenly Choir’ and to squalling drones on ‘Leaves’. A masterpiece. Skif
The Young Tradition – Northern Drive (Matinée)
It is spring after all, the ideal time for flowers like these to bloom. The Young Tradition, Swedish multi-instrumentalist Erik Hanspers and Japanese-American voxman Brent Kenji, adopt Belle & Sebastian style skippery with a nod to Teenage Fan Club’s approach to pop music. ‘Northern Drive’ is lightly tanned West Coast harmonic jazz. Brazilian outfit Pale Sunday tuck an ever-present melancholy inside their palm-tree jangle, with vocals pitched like Dave Gedge only higher, and Hookian basslines. Two albums perfect for the apparent heatwave that we are due. Skif
Particularly sacrilegious cover and title, but we can forgive that. Cyclical alt.rock with that kind of stomping bass-heavy thing that scatters all underfoot, but twitchy also. Kinda like The Fall’s ‘The Classical’, but distributed in glorious small chunks. No meandering, the ideas flicked off before moving on to swat away musical pomposity with another careering swipe. A couple of mantra-like harmonious pieces aside, ‘Jesüs Chryst’ mirrors Melt Banana’s spirit, but it’s more of a sonic uphill spurt than a down gradient slip-slide. Skif
For the spirit what Vapo-Rub is for a heavy cold, Pinkie spins around, arms out like plane wings. It is a free sound. A freeing sound. ‘5 Minute Call’ is like a carousel of flickering candles, ‘Someone I’ll Never Be’ like a droplet of water taking an age to cascade – moist, unhurried, careful. Through the Byrdsian melodies, the sweeping swirly synths, the tearduct-tweaking vocal melodies as well as the haunting and biting moments, it is a slow-motion flip into a collection of thick pillows. Twee, maybe, but a comfortable fit. Skif
Somewhere between garage rock n’ roll, psychedelia and new wave, there must be a scene that stomps, whirls and makes jagged strides. If so it’s a place that The Ponys’ occupy, immersing themselves fully in the multi-culture, creating glinting shards of quality pop through all their crashing about. Skif
East London’s Red.Star.Line’s chugging, glottal-scarred, Black Crowes swaggering rawk isn’t too heavy for sensitive ears, nor without the spark that appeals to the more adventurous. Very much a first step on a musical journey, but a step in the right direction. Skif
Paul Carrack-like vocals laid smoothly upon ethereal jazz weaned on 80’s AOR-pop, like Joe Jackson’s mid-period perhaps. A good accompanying relaxant to a Radio 2 tea-break. A big sound though, perhaps a little over-produced by lo-fi standards of most of the stuff sent to VP. Has me in mind of Bruce Hornsby’s ‘The Way It Is’ in that respect. I always liked that tune, despite its ubiquity. Skif
South African artist, on his 15th LP, ploughs a similar furrow to Paul Simon or Steely Dan. Emotive rock music with a sensitive soul and a mature verve. ‘Slip Away’ skips emphatically like the AM radio hit it surely should be. The rest of the LP slips by me, if I’m honest, but this tune is something else. Can’t stop playing the bleeder. Skif
Prolific Ryan Adams throws out yet another duel collection of Young/Parsons like country-rock that appears to float light as a feather but captures an emotive weight that few can master, aided and abetted by God’s instrument, the steel guitar. The simple melancholy of ‘Meadowlake Street’ pits Banhart against the farm while ‘Beautiful Sorta’ is T-Rex for rustics. It is an LP pitched so as not too maudlin, but enough to tap at the tender spots that are generally bettered for occasional exposure. Skif
The first take of the title track (reprised later) is a Velvet Underground/Cocteau Twins piano-trinkets with the bass backing vocals trouble the stomach (in the best way). ‘Fashion Crisis Hits New York’ is lo-fi Sonic Youth-like clatter with psychedelia settling like dew. ‘The Venus Probe’ is spartan, stark pop which grates at dead skin. The 1st side of the LP is studio recorded, with the second side put together with laptop and boom box. This allows a nice change of pace and an extra dimension to be added, and they explore the nuances of their sound as ‘Jet Blew’ runs backwards through Royal Trux style bluesh and ‘Jellstar’ slaps down Beasties-esque hip-hop. Skif
Allegedly, this lot come from Italy except for the Canadian vocalist. I say ‘allegedly’ as this record doesn’t exude much of a European influence. This is very American indie-rock with a few post-rock and art-rock stylings. A three rock pizza, if you will. This is not without charm, however, and the band have the impressive ability to self-edit: 15 tracks in 38 minutes means it’s easy to digest and nothing really outstays it’s welcome. Likeable. Leon Michael Tricker
Cockroaches everywhere can count themselves fortunate that, when the nuclear holocaust comes, they’ll be in good company. Confronted with the sort of challenges that would have broken lesser bands – the loss of a major label record deal and two founding members, as well as a criminal lack of public interest and recognition – Nottingham’s Six By Seven are somehow still standing. ‘Artists, Cannibals, Poets, Thieves’ – produced by the band at their own Peveril Hotel studio and released on their own label – is their fifth full-length album and, like its predecessor ‘04’, takes a little while to make an impression. Its abrasive edge means James Flowers’s keyboards take a back seat. Opener ‘All I Really Want From You Is Love’ is classic Six By Seven, but the real surprises are ‘Stara Paris Rescued Me’ and ‘You Know I Feel Alright Now’, which are more than enough to satisfy anyone disaffected with Trent Reznor’s latest offering. Ben Woolhead
Fascinating collection of tunes composed from found sounds, acoustic/electric instruments, sampling, playing around with toys and borrowing the talents of friends and relatives before mixing it all up on the computer. It’s impossible to put a tag on this dark brooding weird electronica collaged with live sounds, experimental snapshots of lost moments. An album to listen to repeatedly and still be able to hear things you didn’t notice before, I recommend a comfy cushion and pitch black room to enjoy this trip; it may conjure up places in your mind you don’t want to find but it’s one hell of a journey from the ‘Alpine Sin Balloon’ via ‘the Ice Cap Cracks Jesus Puzzle’ to ‘The Morning Chocolate Drowner’. Discover more over at www.mandolinrecords.co.uk. Grebo
All you need of Snuff spread over two discs for a cheap price. Disc one comprises punk pop gems, so called greatest hits like ‘Somehow’, ‘Martin’ and ‘Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads’. Blasts of shout-a-long choruses, punked up guitars and true nuggets of joy. Put together like this it’s easy to see what an influence they have been on the whole pop punk genre. Disc two contains all the rare and unreleased tracks and those cover versions such as ‘Hokey Cokey’, ‘Any Old Iron’, ‘Don’t Fear The Reaper’ and ‘I Think We’re Alone Now’ plus various b-sides and live tracks. It’s been an absolute joy to trawl through the 50 tracks on here and there is not many albums you can say that about, essential for lovers of pop punk. Grebo
A 6th LP in ten years for the Berlin duo always working on their own terms. Opening with ‘Babystrich’ they give a Gainsbourg pre-history to Scissor Sisters OTT glam territory, before the title-track gives marionettes music to skip to. ‘Cinemania’ lists their screen icons from Fassbinder to Hitchcock, the emphatic elastic rhythm of ‘Ne m’apelle pas ta biche’ judders while ‘Orange mécanique’ offers a clattering update of the Clockwork Orange overture. ‘Do The Bambi’ is twee-pop taken out of jeans and faded Beat Happening! t-shirts and into a slinky continental chic, they apportion their lo-fi and thick spectacled electroclash sugar in little packets, as the songs are more of the snippet than the epic, combining the primitive with the elaborate and experimental. Skif
Mudhoney man and an array of guests including Holly Golightly and Stone Gossard produce a nicely stripped down alt-country cum garage rock album. This is a wonderfully understated collection of beautiful songs that stroll through garage, country and blues. A fair few were recorded at the legendary Toerag Studios which gives you some idea of the direction this is coming from, simple but effective production that let these 13 songs shine in 30 glorious minutes. Sing-a-longs to strum on the front porch on late summer evenings with a few beers, delightful. Grebo
I’d say the album title clips the wing of the post-ironic as the S. Reverb calling card puts the freaky and awkward high on their list of jobs undertaken. This is a rattler; a twister; a synapse melter; an irritator; a parasite and cleanser; a work of consideration to induce consternation; a shimmer; an opponent of basic structure; an improvisant; an intrigueling; a rascal; a tune-up; a tune down; a tune away from being day-to-day. Fair play for pushing the envelope away from the expected and mundane. Skif
Cracking little compilation and free from the website and highly recommended if you like a bit of rock action. 8 tracks from Lebatol, Escanna, Menendez, Push To Fire, Bulletproof, You’re Smiling Now But We’ll All Turn Into Demons, For Trucks and sr-o. Not all is in your face noise though, as shown by Menendez who produce quite floaty rock and For Trucks who offer up slide guitars galore. At the other end is Push To Fire who sound like The Blues Explosion on bad drugs. Get over to www.functionrecords.com and ask for a copy before they all go. Grebo
A rich feast of the eccentric and obtuse it is, as you might expect, perhaps too much over 2 packed CDs, but this is not about cherry-picking the hits cos, unless you count Daniel Johnston or the Go Team!, there haven’t really been any. Mainstream culture isn’t the aim for Pickled Egg, instead this is like their Eggcyclopaedia (apologies), a sweep of their entire ocean floor. It’s about a free-jazz ethic, where an obvious forthcoming avant-twist is brought to heel by a calming post-rock pasture, where an expected bluesy or crooned hiatus is met by flot n’ scrot, skronk and schiffle, and all kinds of digital and organic sounds that will continue to skirt around and retreat from the genre terms you are used to. Pickled Egg isn’t a home for the outsider, more it hovers over their journey with a sheet white spotlight. Skif
I like this compilation as I like the ethics behind it – put together a bunch of interesting bands of various styles and bang out and see who will bite. There is plenty to excite on here too, from Khopek’s opening choral appeal to the heavens (that beat-wise, harks back to DJ Shadow’s moment in the sun) through to Deerpark’s haunting ‘Burning Photos’ at the finish. The second track appears to show that once the Yellow Submarine was decommissioned and a new psychedelic fleet built, the Sways were likely given the job of writing the folk-shanties for the surrealist mariners. 96 Tears, with ‘Keep A Clean Nose’ get a poked buzz and post-baggy lick out of a bee as synths wash over the perky post-rock hymn. Elsewhere there is the Cocteau-treacle of Oom, the empathic Big-band funk of Rusty Sheriff, the chugging guitar shriek of Detwiije and the trickly squirt of Anon. Plenty for everyone with an interest in the new and exciting. Skif
Gnarly, grizzly, scuzzy, garage rock. Some names already well known in the UK (Dirtbombs, Piranhas, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion) to ease access into lesser known acts. The sound quality flies about, and perhaps it’s too much for one sitting, but if you want (hey! need, fella) to know what’s happening in the worldwide garage scene, In The Red can provide a plethora of pointers. Skif
Junior Kimbrough died of a stroke in 1998, but while the records aren’t flying out of the shops, the influence of the man remains strong and appears to be growing. There are astellar bunch of names on this record, such as Iggy Pop & The Stooges, who bring an oddly restrained rattle to ‘You Better Run’, Blues Explosion who, as might be expected, stay pretty true to tradition with their ‘Meet Me In The City’ cut, while the Black Keys make ‘My Mind Is Rambling’ smooth and scuzzy all at once. Overall, this is very definitely a tribute record as most of the tunes stay close to the age old blues dynamic. Except for perhaps Spiritualized’s dirgy morris frug, there are no wild tangents, but certainly a heart-spattered sleeve of affection. Skif
A game of two halves this, but nonetheless 18 cuts of hazy cut grass from the finest popletiers around. Fonda skip through fields with a puffed-chest tweeness that recalls Echobelly. Astropop 3 apply a Stone Roses pinch to acoustic melancholy, which contrasts with Fiel Garvie’s Cranes/Cocteau crystallisation of heavy wintry breathiness. Mark Gardener’s West Coast burnt; Parsons-esque country is mirrored later by The Voyces and the Asteroid No. 4, with the latter more rugged in their approach. Camera Obscura’s live acoustic yearnings and Linda Draper’s cutglass innocence are highlights, while Xavier Pelleuf’s cleansing shoegazey gospel and Sister Vanilla’s minimalist 60’s girl group melodies capture the imagination. Skif
Swedish take on punk with influences such as Bad Religion, The Ramones and Gang Green. Full on in your face melodic punk rock spread over 14 fists in the air attacks on your senses. This is pretty straightforward music; you either love it or hate it, the question is are they any good? In this case, yes, they carry it off with spiked hair and tattoos in place; you can dance to it, jump around to it and bellow along with whoa whoa backing vocals. All is in place to make this a darn good melodic punk release, plenty of riffs and attitude and no let up in pace as it careers along the punk superhighway. Grebo
The most pretentious press release quote I’ve ever come across? (sample: “one moment in time can take on such an important significance that it becomes an endless world unto itself”) Possibly. But I can forgive an artist for that when the music is so good. Baroque strings and eastern European melodies are mixed with intense breaks and brass swells. It’s a bit like Squarepusher covering Classical Hits of the 19th Century but that only helps it stand even further above the rest of the electronica pack. Refreshing. Leon Michael Tricker
Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster type Cramp-ish ghouls swap the gothic overtones for piped party garage scuzz, a Suicide thunder-electro stabbing drone undercurrent and a crooning appeal to the hips. That, to me, is the sound of zZz. They do retain a darkness but it’s fairly arch, with an Austin Powers camp minced (in the more homicidal sense) through their gurgling free-jazz cinematic clatter. Skif