Albums of 2011: #5-1

5. PJ Harvey - Let England Shake
Like the best homeland-inspired albums, there was an uneasy sense of patriotism about PJ Harvey's 8th studio album, even as it recounted in gory detail our horrible history ("I've seen and done things I want to forget/I've seen soldiers fall like lumps of meat"). Complemented perfectly by spine-tingling musical arrangements (just how disarming is that bugle on The Glorious Land?) and Harvey's pleading vocals, it was the pick of the crop from what's been a fine year for British music, and the most deserved Mercury Music prize winner since, oh, yeah, 2000's Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea.

4. M83 - Hurry Up, We're Dreaming
Anthony Gonzalez hasn't exactly shied away from sounding "epic" in recent times, but on his latest, maybe greatest work, he made the most unashamedly huge album of the year. Doffing its cap to like-minded works of bloated majesty such as Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness, this was an album where no Phil Collins-sized drum fill was too much, no synth too stadium-sized, no child's choir (or child's ode to a frog) too cringe-inducing. That he pulled it off so effortlessly is testament to the heart and soul embodied in his work, and perhaps in part to a clutch of quite astonishing songs like Midnight City, Claudia Lewis and Ok Pal.

3. Destroyer - Kaputt
On the fringes of the Canadian indie scene for so long, despite his involvement with the New Pornographers, Dan Bejar finally hit the (relative) big-time with this soft-rock monolith. As self-referential as ever, but tuning down his usual verbosity, Bejar played the lounge lizard, whispering sweet-nothings in your ear whilst indulging in a mixture of cocaine and champagne, all to luxuriant layers of sax and suave new-wave synth. Brilliant and, just in case you missed it first time around, the phenomenal 11-minute suite Bay Of Pigs was thrown in for good  measure too.

2. Gang Gang Dance - Eye Contact
In some parallel, better adjusted universe, House Jam from 2008's Saint Dymphna scored GGD a huge hit. In that same universe, Eye Contact is their ascent to mega-stardom. Vocalist Liz Bougatsos was pitched front-and-centre on Eye Contact, and she embraced the role, cooing over the sensual likes of Romance Layers and Adult Goth, whilst the madcap rave of Mindkilla and sticky sweetness of Chinese High demonstrated how the Brooklyn experimentalists had sharpened their pop talons. But it was over the 12 achingly constructed minutes of Glass Jar that GGD joined the likes of Animal Collective as one of those rare bands whose increasing accessibility goes hand in hand with an ever-expanding sound.


1. Fucked Up - David Comes To Life
For a band who started out with a heady stream of 7" releases, a concept-heavy double album (further fleshed out by a limited edition album, David's Town, a compilation of singles by made-up British 60's bands, all actually variations of Fucked Up) would appear to be the very anithesis of their original MO. But the reason this album rings so true is that it simply refuses to get bogged down in its (admittedly absurd) story, and instead concentrates on stuffing every last one of its 18 songs with an embarassment of big guitar hooks and gooey backing vocals, making them all major ear-worms despite (sometimes even because of) David "Pink Eyes" Abraham's call-to-arms screams. With Abraham casting doubts over his future role in FU, the Toronto-based band's future looks uncertain, but by casting the multi-layered guitar sound of 2008's The Chemistry of Common Life to the immediacy of their earlier work, they couldn't have possibly come up with a better career summary than this.

#20-16

#15-11

#10-6

Albums of 2011: 10-6

10. Björk - Biophilia

Amidst all the fuss about phone apps, it was easy to forget that there was an actual album buried under all of the techno-babble. And what an album; in counterbalance to the futuristic concept was Björk's most organic-sounding record to date. With each song essentially built off a single instrumental motif, Biophilia was almost uncomfortably sparse at times, but fleshed out with haunting choral vocals, putting the harsh electronic beat pay-offs of Crystalline and Mutual Core into even sharper relief.

9. Nicolas Jaar - Space Is Only Noise

21-year old Chilean/New Yorker Nicolas Jaar's debut LP was a deeply intriguing and strangely satisfying record, its languid, loungey electronic throbs, woozy instrumentation and crackly samples coyly entrancing the listener, before disarming you with a blast of skronky horns. The secret weapon was Jaar himself, his deep voice spouting out cryptic words of advice ("Grab a calculator and fix yourself"). The year's essential late-night listen.

8. tUnE-yArDs - w h o k i l l

The casual use of upper- and lower-case letters was enough to make some run a mile, and the vocals were a deal-breaker for many, but in truth Merril Garbus' endlessly acrobatic and percussive voice was a key ingredient to this astonishing album, somehow managing to meet every twist and turn of this breathless collection of songs. Deranged, yes, but her mangling of R&B and afro-pop, followed by its impeccable reconstruction made her the queen to David Longstreth's king.

7. The Antlers - Burst Apart

2009's Hospice was the sort of record one could obsess over, but its overwhelming bleakness is the sort of thing you can only get away with once. Credit then goes to The Antlers for this expertly judged follow-up which, thanks to Pete Silberman's impassioned wail (plus song titles like Every Night My Teeth Are Falling Out and Putting The Dog To Sleep) still struck a raw nerve, but with its more spacious, hymnal songs meant that this time, the listener never felt at risk of suffocating under it all.

6. Oneohtrix Point Never - Replica

On last year's Returnal, Daniel Lopatin, a.k.a. OPN, demonstrated his mastery of mind-melting, minimalistic drone. Replica was a reprisal of that sound to an extent, but by juxtaposing it with jarring vocal loops and, on Up, even tribal percussion (percussion of any kind was previously unthinkable), it felt like Lopatin had taken a massive step forward. Child Soldier was the brilliant culmination of this development, but every single cut here was a stunningly composed, endlessly shape-shifting wormhole into another world.

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#15-11

Albums of 2011: 15-11

15. Okkervil River - I Am Very Far
Having got bogged down with some concept-heavy albums of late, Okkervil River rediscovered their muse with I Am Very Far. Self-produced by Will Sheff, the use of double-tracking gave the band a punchier sound, and with no overriding theme, the focus seemed to be on producing a diverse and creative set of songs, from the climactic White Shadow Waltz to the haunting Show Yourself, bringing the band close to the heights previously reached on 2005's Black Sheep Boy.


14. Radiohead - The King Of Limbs

Radiohead's 8th LP arrived with all of the drama we've come to expect, and opinion was predictably divided. Was it too short? Was there a follow-up (the album's parting words of  "If you think this is over, then you're wrong" was very knowing)? Did it break any new ground for the band, or the world of popular music in general? Whilst a Kid A-style reapprasial may not be on the cards, time will tell just where it stands in the Radiohead canon, but for now its intricately textured songs, drawing as much from Bon Iver as they did James Blake, sounded just right in 2011.

13. EMA - Past Life Martyred Saints
Formerly of alt-folk act Gowns, Erika M Anderson's debut solo LP was the year's most cathartic and beautifully damaged record. By turns stark and vulnerable (Marked), brash and resolute (California) and unhinged (Milkman), lyrics such as "I wish that everytime he touched me left a mark" could be translated in multiple ways. A suitably harrowing record on the woes of drug addiction, it made total sense when Anderson wound up covering Endless, Nameless on a tribute to Nevermind.

12. Metronomy - The English Riviera
Joseph Mount's third LP with Devon-based Metronomy saw the band continue to evolve from their giddy electronic beginnings to purveyors of super-smart pop, falling somewhere between XTC and the Pet Shop Boys. Deliciously bittersweet songs such as Everything Goes My Way and The Look sunk their hooks in deep, whilst the ravier likes of Corinne and album highlight The Bay showed that Mount hadn't completely lost touch with his roots.

 

11. The Men - Leave Home
Brooklyn-based the Men channeled every form of noise-based rock from the past 30 years into a single exhilirating release. Whether it was Sonic Youth-inspired no wave, Harvey Milk-esque doom metal, or Spacemen 3-style space rock (they even had the bare-faced cheek to crib lyrics from Take Me To The Other Side), everything was pushed up into the red and played with unwavering tenacity. They could go in any number of directions from here.

#20-16

Albums of 2011: 20-16

Whilst this blog has hardly been a hotbed of activity this year, I promise you that I haven't been completely resting on my musical laurels. As with last year, I will be counting down my top 20 albums of 2011. Here are nos 20-15:

20: Tom Waits - Bad As Me
Tom Waits' first body of entirely new work since 2004's Real Gone was worth the wait, and at 61, he's showing no signs of losing his vigour. The songs - flicking between raucous junkyard blues and rickety ballads - never strayed too far from his trusted template, but when the sequencing and strength of the songwriting is as good as it is here, there can be few complaints, and the album only furthered the legacy of an artist whose longevity and continued relevance are practically unparalleled.

19. Beirut - The Rip Tide
With his previous albums globetrotting between the sounds of balkan, riviera, and mariachi, respectively, on this occasion Zach Condon chose not to spin the globe and place his finger down at random, but rather collate those previous sounds into stronger, more structured songs. A wise decision, and one which resulted in an album that somehow managed to be more restrained, and yet more confident than any Condon had ever managed before.

18. Mogwai - Hardcore Will Never Die But You Will
Historically, the best Mogwai albums have always been those with a continuous flow to the songs, but Hardcore... followed the disparate template of 2006's Mr Beast, only with better songs. An injection of much-needed pace, and just enough nudges towards new directions, as on Mexican Grand Prix, made this the best Mogwai album in a decade. A fine year for the Glaswegian post-rockers was capped off with the subsequent Earth Division EP.


17. Iceage - New Brigade
These Danish teenagers have gained a reputation for their fierce live shows, the energy of which was carried across into their terrific debut LP. Clanging post-punk guitars were put to breakneck hardcore tempos; New Brigade's 12 songs are over within 25 minutes. But no amount of dischord or no-frills production could mask some genuine tunes, such as the riveting Broken Bones.


16. Battles - Gloss Drop
Without Tyondai Braxton - the closest thing the band had to a frontman - Battles were left in a precarious position in following up the highly lauded Mirrored. The resulting Gloss Drop couldn't possibly satisfy everyone, but the four songs featuring guest vocalists - a diverse set, ranging from Gary Numan to Yamantaka Eye from Boredoms - acted as brilliant focal points between impressive yet fun technical workouts such as Futura and Wall Street, making for a surprisingly playful record.

Gig Review: Magazine @ The Junction, Wednesday 2nd November

30 years on from their original dissolution, Magazine played at the Cambridge Junction on Wednesday night to an audience which predominantly looked like they caught the post-punk legends the first time around. Coming out on stage with a signboard carrying a typically oblique message, Howard Devoto, now 59, cuts as enigmatic and compelling a figure as ever. 

But in truth, the early signs were not at all great - the sound mix for the opening moments of Definitive Gaze was horrible, with Jon White's bass threatening to overwhelm everything - yet whilst the sound was never truly perfect all night long, matters did improve considerably within the first few songs. Aside from the cutting wit of Devoto, the real star player of Magazine has always been keyboardist Dave Formula, and despite looking worryingly like he belonged in The Lancashire Hotpots, he didn't disappoint, displaying his full expressive range of sounds over four keyboards: elegaic on Parade, spooked out on Permafrost, and bonkers practically everywhere else.

The tour was in support of their fifth album No Thyself ("it was nothing, we had so many years to write it" joked Devoto on it being the band's first recording since 1981's Magic Murder And The Weather) and if nothing else, it was impressive to hear how authentically Magazine-esque the likes of The Worst of Progress... and Happening In English actually sound. Devoto's not lost his way lyrically either; Hello Mister Curtis is a typically acerbic homage to suicidal rock stars. They fit pretty well into the band's canon, but the band wisely chose not to overegg the pudding with new material, but rather sprinkle it like Hundreds-and-Thousands amidst classic material; the likes of Shot By Both Sides and set highlight The Light Pours Out Of Me from 1977 debut Real Life (in my mind one of the greatest musical documents of the original post-punk era) still pack a hefty punch.

Not all of Magazine's material has aged so gracefully; their tacky funk cover of Sly Stone's Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Again) should be cast to the anals of history and left there. But when playing old and new material alike, Magazine remain a thrillingly odd, unique and indispensible player in the post-punk story.

 

Ancient Melodies Of The Future

Next week I start a new radio show in Cam FM. It's called Ancient Melodies Of The Future which - aside from my love of Built To Spill, as if that wasn't already obvious from the name of this blog - is a reference to how popular (and not so popular) music's past goes on to shape its future.

This show is not meant to be some mere nostalgia trip, more a celebration of how the finest artists of today draw upon their influences; in some cases, the similarities are obvious, but as time goes on, and new music genres and sub-genres are created, deconstructed, and spliced together, it's quite interesting to see just how far the apple can fall from the tree. I revile those with the attitude that popular music reached its peak in Year X, and that those who achieved a particular sound aesthetic first are by default its best practitioners. It's those narrow-minded individuals (Rolling Stone writers, in general) who permanently affix Sgt Pepper or Pet Sounds to the top of every Greatest Albums Of All Time Lists without a moment's thought (not to say that these aren't great records, but for those similarly sceptical of the unanimous acclaim heaped upon these records, Kill Your Idols by Jim DeRogatis should provide a satifying read).

At the risk of contradicting myself, however, it's becoming increasingly difficult to see how even the greatest albums of today can ever be allowed to join the pantheon of those aforementioned "classics". Every publication, from Rolling Stone to Pitchfork to Mojo, will have its own particular spin on the All Time List, but whoever the compiler is, you can guarantee that certain names - Beatles, Dylan, Bowie and so forth - will feature somewhere, and that's because by virtue of being there first, they got to shape both the pop and underground music scenes forevermore. Radiohead - who in 1997's OK Computer and 2000's Kid A have at least two albums which are ubiquitous with those All Time Lists -  are perhaps the last ever band that will ever achieve that level of crossover recognition. As the music scene becomes increasingly splintered into genres and sub-genres, it's almost impossible for a consensus to be reached on any record. With the great commercial success of last year's The Suburbs by the Arcade Fire, we might hope to see 2005's Funeral find its way onto those lists for good. But what about Merriweather Post Pavilion? Sound Of Silver? Return To Cookie Mountain? I'm not going to get my hopes up.

Perhaps the very concept of The Greatest Album Of All Time is defunct. Let's just embrace the sheer diversity of today's music scene; with Ancient Melodies Of The Future, I hope to do just that.

Catch the first show on Tuesday 4th October 8-9pm, and then every Thursday 8-9pm, on Cambridge 97.2FM or www.camfm.co.uk

Music Vid: Explosions In The Sky - Be Comfortable Creature

Having terrorised the streets of London in last year's Chris Morris-directed film Four Lions, it does seem at least that the Honey Monster shed a few pounds during his fun-run. Here, his life is fully documented and put to music by Explosion In The Sky's ever reliable brand of sky-gazing post-rock.

Be Comfortable Creature is taken from the album Take Care, Take Care, Take Care, out now.

Review: Neutral Milk Hotel - On Avery Island (Reissue)

N.B. This review is based on the original 1996 album. Since the reissue features only two additional songs - both previously available on the Everything Is EP - it seems reasonable to provide a critique of the album in its original glory, and to assume that those considering purchasing the remastered edition are largely unfamiliar with the original version.

These are exciting times for fans of Neutral Milk Hotel, Jeff Mangum, and Elephant Six in general. This week's news of the forthcoming release of hitherto unreleased Neutral Milk Hotel material follows on from a flurry of activity in recent months, including new Olivia Tremor Control material, a Mangum-curated ATP festival and a host of solo dates. It really seems as if Mangum was, and remains, the true heart and soul of the tight-knit crew which formed the Elephant Six collective.

All of which makes the reissue, and subsequent reassessment, of Neutral Milk Hotel's 1996 debut LP On Avery Island all the more timely. Perenially regarded as "the one which preceded In The Aeroplane Over The Sea" - an album for which the term "cult classic" was seemingly coined specifically for - On Avery Island has been given its long-overdue day in the sun. Sure enough On Avery Island has much in common with its more illustrious successor: the distortion-ridden acoustic guitars; Jeff Mangum's stream-of-consciousness lyrics; Jeremy Barnes' crashing symbals; the mariachi-esque horns. In fact, it's striking just how unprecedented On Avery Island was at the time of its release and that even 15 years on, when so many band line-ups are swollen with additional horn players and such like, it still sounds like such an original piece of work.

That, in large part, is thanks to Mangum. Whilst not yet possessing the degree of confidence in his voice he would subsequently find on ITAOTS, his all-or-nothing bleats and the obscure, yet highly visual poetry of his lyrics are On Avery Island's star turn. The album's most stripped back moments, such as A Baby For Pree and Three Peaches, are essentially Mangum and an acoustic guitar, but over the most rudimentary chord progressions, Mangum's compelling voice turns these songs into spine-tingling tour-de-forces; the despairing la-da-dahs which characterise Three Peaches would ultimately be recycled for ITAOTS' Oh Comely.

There's no overriding concept to the songs on On Avery Island, but with its recurring lyrical themes and musical motifs, it remains a remarkably cohesive album, even as it tumbles between full-band songs, the aforementioned Mangum solo moments, and trippy instrumentals. The Elephant Six influence is perhaps more noticeable here than on ITAOTS; the clanging fairground chimes which close out Someone Is Waiting or the tape experiment vibe of Marching Theme are certainly close cousins to Will Cullen Hart's work with Olivia Tremor Control and Circulatory System. If there's anything that ties On Avery Island together, it's a lingering sense of dread; death, in some shape or form, has never strayed far from Mangum's lyric sheet, and as early as opener Song About Sex he's pleaing to some girl "don't take those pills your boyfriend gave you/you're too wonderful to die".

So where does all this leave On Avery Island? Well there's still no denying that the band's peak was still to come; the fuzz of their debut LP would be crispened up on ITAOTS, and the rest of the band would grow with Mangum to write more dynamic songs. But On Avery Island remains a fascinating and essential document, a near-classic from a band which had already forged a unique identity

84/100

Do You Remember The First Time? #4 Grandaddy - Jed's Other Poem

In my review of Mercury Rev's performance of Deserters Songs at the Roundhouse a few months ago, I was initially sceptical of the album's place in the pantheon of modern Americana classics, alongside the likes of the Flaming Lips' The Soft Bulletin, Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Grandaddy's Under The Western Freeway. But in truth, when anyone compiles such a list, it's inevitably Grandaddy that gets missed out. That was the story of their career in a nutshell; perenially underloved and under the radar, their eventual dissolution in 2006 nonetheless caused considerable mourning amongst their followers, and an outcry for this band to be acknowldeged by a wider audience.

Their call has, in part, been answered by this coming Monday's release of the deluxe edition of 2000's The Sophtware Slump. Every bit as good as debut Under The Western Freeway, it consolidated the band's knack for odd, yet deceptively simple and strangely affecting indie-rock songwriting, underscored by the sadsack voice of front man and chief creative talent Jason Lytle. On its release, The Sophtware Slump gained, with some justification, comparisons with Radiohead's OK Computer for its similar underlying themes of extraterrestrialism, loneliness, and man's struggles with technology. But in contrast with Thom Yorke's cut-and-paste lyrical vagaries, Lytle's words give us a strong visual image and carry real emotional resonance, no matter how strange the circumstances. Broken Household Appliance National Forest for instance, simultaneously draws anger at man's wastefulness and lack of regard for natural habitat, and yet we are able to draw a warm feeling of satisfaction from the deers, frogs and other woodland critters that contentedly make their home amongst the deserted refridgerators and air condition units. Then there's the poor soul in Miner At The Dial-A-View (what is the Dial-A-View exactly? Some kind of pay-per-view precursor of Google Earth perhaps?) looking at images of his home and longing for his return. It's a fine distillation of the feelings of loneliness and re-kindling of long-distant memories (both in terms of time and physical distance) that the band first touched upon on Under The Western Freeway's Everything Beautiful Is Far Away.

Perhaps the strongest recurring theme within The Sophtware Slump is one of obscelescence. There's the astronaut who touches back down to Earth on He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's The Pilot to find a planet which has moved on without him (possibly the same character who makes his weary getaway on the album's final song So You'll Aim Toward The Sky). And then there's the sorry story of Jed The Humanoid who, on becoming despondant after his neglect by his creators as they go on to devise more advanced creations, goes off the rails and ends up meeting an early robot grave. Perhaps the album's most stirring moment is Jed's Other Poem, a reprise of the story which unearths a hitherto undiscovered poem,written by the humanoid  himself, recording his own downfall. It delivers what is both the album's most humourous and devestating passage ("I try to sing it funny like Beck but it's bringing me down/Lower than ground/Beautiful Ground") before fading into the ether over a rippling piano. Listen to it below and then, if you haven't already, go out and get The Sophtware Slump and give this band some posthumous credit.

Zaireeka! - reappraisal of a misunderstood classic

Pitchfork Media is celebrating its 15th birthday this week. Love it or loathe it, there's no denying the site has had an almost unparalleled influence on the indie/alternative music scene over that time. It's also hard to deny that since its inception in 1996, the standard of writing has improved substantially.

For me, one of the greatest travesties that P4k ever inflicted on music journalism was its 0.0 score of Zaireeka!, the Flaming Lips' mind-boggling 4CD album from 1997. One of the worst things about that review was the fact that it failed to provide any critique of the album's music whatsoever, but instead laid into the album's concept (for the uninitiated, the four CDs which make up Zaireeka are all meant for simultaneous play, meaning you need 4 CD players, or else three other friends with CD players, to get the full listening experience).

First of all, let me say that the concept to Zaireeka! is brilliant on so many levels. You never get the same listening experience twice. To keep 4 CD players perfectly in sync over 8 songs and 45 minutes is simply an impossible task, but that ends up being half the fun, especially when you start hearing echoes of a vocal before the original vocal has even been uttered. And then you're able to play around with the whole album dynamics. Which CD should I play in this player? How loud should I have it? Where should this CD player go in the room? And whilst 4 CDs is undoubtedly the recommended  set-up, Zaireeka! can be enjoyed with 3 or even just 2 CDs, giving all manner of permutations (just make sure you have CD1 included in there somewhere).

And then there's the intended communal experience of Zaireeka!, the idea of friends coming along, bringing their CD players, having some drinks, and sitting back and soaking up the madness. I've experienced the album once in this manner, and it has really stuck in my mind in a way that I've never had from simply sticking on a CD, either before or since.

But all of this would be moot if the music itself was a load of old cobblers. It's here where Zaireeka! transcends mere gimmickry, offering a wonderful, and surprisingly focussed set of songs which actually runs the gamut between 1995's Clouds Taste Metallic (when they still sounded like a band playing actual instruments) and 1999's polyphonic masterpiece The Soft Bulletin pretty well.

As part of their 15th birthday celebrations, P4k have dug up a number of journalistic pieces from their archive, one of which is a reappraisal of Zaireeka!, originally written in 2002. It goes a long way to addressing the original misdemeanour, by pretty much outlining what I've said here. Hopefully, moments of agenda-driven, attention-seeking drivel such as that original review are a thing of the past on P4k. But should there remain a dearth of level-headed, objective writing on P4k's pages....well you've always got KILAS, haven't you?

Review: The Men - Leave Home

Joining the ranks of bands with ungoogleable names - Rate Your Music reliably informs me there are at least five artists with the same name - the bleary front cover of Leave Home is similarly inscrutible. And whilst the band's searing noise rock, with its nods to Sonic Youth in particular, hints at the band's Brooklyn roots, there is, in truth, no single overriding influence  to The Men's sound. But if there's one binding factor which ties these 8 songs together, its that whatever The Men put their hand to - be it no wave, garage, space rock or doom metal - they push it deep into the red and beat the living crap out of it.

Leave Home, the band's second full-length, has a kickarse factor that few albums this year are likely to match. Vocals are largely undecipherable, except for when the band what them to be heard, such as the cheeky lyrical lift from Spacemen 3's Take Me To The Other Side on (). For the most part, however, they're simply there to add another layer to The Men's sonic assualt. 

The album's midrift is The Men at their most unyielding. Think is snarling hardcore, punctuated  by disintegrations into jazzy noise. LADOCH's gruelling, slow metal grind and monstrous vocals recall Harvey Milk. Repeated listens soften the blow, but those two songs feels like a deliberate false turn in anticipation for the album's outstanding second half. ()'s lyrical steal is aptly put to a searing Spacemen 3-esque guitars. Shitting With The Shaw takes the other side of that sound, its patient build of  slow wah-wah guitar providing the album's sole breather, before culminating in an explosive finale. Bataille, a potent garage rocker loosely similar to Sonic Youth's Hey Joni, is the album's most immediately gratifying cut, whilst the swarmy dub-punk closer Night Landing suggests at yet another direction this band could go in.

For all that, Leave Home holds together extremely well, its blend of genres not pulling against one another, but bound tightly together by The Men's sheer conviction. Hopefully they'll feel no need to rein in their influences on future records; if they imbue all of their albums with this amount of energy, they'll have no problems forging an identity of their own.

85/100

Shopowners Of The World Unite!

As London, and many other parts of the UK, are beseiged by riots, the likes of which have not been seen in some 30 years, it's easy to reflect on the similarities between the situation all those years ago, and how it is today. In both cases, the protaganists primarily originate from poor households, often from ethnic minorities, at a time with a Tory government in power, and a surge in unemployment. There are, however, clear disparities. For all the bait which there's been to bite on, what we have witnessed in the past few days has provided little evidence of a true motive; these are rebels without a cause, who stand for nothing.

One only has to look at the current neutered state of the music industry to see just how well it reflects what's going out on the streets. Any sense of  lyrical depth or socio-political insight has been snuffed out, any greater meaning rendered worthless. If there's any motive in today's popular music, its to further the relentless march of consumerism; when music videos have become so rife with product placement, is it any wonder that looting of mobile phone shops and other electronic goods has been the order of the day? During the riots of '81, the ominous "Ghost Town" by The Specials took its icy grip of the top of the chart; today we have Cher Lloyd  the product of a programme whos very take-home message is that you can have it all, and achieve it with the bare minimum of hard graft.

The finger cannot, and should not, merely be pointed at pop music. With UK punk and its aftermath in the late 70's and early 80's, there emerged a glut of bands and artists, from privileged and poor backgrounds alike, documenting how they perceived the government to be failing its people. There's been no shortage of source material for artists to draw upon in recent years - the war in Iraq, the global recession and the resulting cuts - and yet the current UK indie crop is worryingly scant on artists who have something to say, seemingly quashed by an overwhelming sense of tolerance and indifference.

Of course, a good song, be it mainstream or otherwise, should serve to entertain first and foremost, and many of us may listen to music as a means of escape rather than engagement. Yet it seems no coincidence that these most senseless of riots are breaking out a time when the UK music scene is at its most directionless.

First Impressions: My Morning Jacket - Circuital

If there was one reassuring thing to take from the misstep that was 2008's Evil Urges, it was that My Morning Jacket didn't exactly sound like they were stuck in any creative rut. In fact, the further the band spread its wings on that album, the more successful the results, whether it was with the beguiling four-to-the-floor disco of Touch Me I'm Going To Scream Pt 2, or the Prince homage Highly Suspicious (which has its share of haters, but I'm not among them). Disappointing though it was, Evil Urges suggested that all MMJ required was a slight realignment of their musical compass.

The first listen of Circuital further reaffirms that Evil Urges was nothing more than a blip. What is immediately apparent is that is MMJ's tightest and most cohesive set of songs, but one which is still keen to mine the expansive sound of their last two records, as evident on suave first single Holding Onto Black Metal (which bears more than a passing resemblance to Yes' Owner Of A Lonely Heart).  Indeed, Circuital feels like the album to take the torch from 2005's high-water-mark Z and run with it, right down to the way the delightful Outta My System recalls the Beach Boys melodies the band first flirted with on Off The Record. What's always been true about MMJ is that they have never completely lost touch with their roots, and whilst the guitars have been turned down a notch, Slow Slow Tune shows the band still enjoy nothing more than a good jam.

Circuital is out in the UK on 6th June on Rough Trade.

Music Vid: Panda Bear - Alsation Darn

I don't think I'm the only one to think that after so much anticipation, and the magnificence of 2007's Person Pitch, Tomboy comes up just a bit short. Nevertheless, Panda Bear's new album has its moments of brilliance, and the melancholic Alsation Darn is probably the pick of the bunch. Here's the mind-bending music vid.

Gig Review: Mercury Rev play Deserter's Songs @ The Roundhouse - Sat 21st May

Mercury Rev are an undoubtedly fine band, and 1998's Deserter's Songs is an undoubtedly very fine album. I have to admit that until now I've never held the album in quite the same high esteem as contemparies such as The Soft Bulletin and Under The Western Freeway. I may have to reassess that.

But as Johnathan Donahue was keen to point out, tonight was not merely a victory parade for their own crowning achievement, but a chance for them to also acknowledge the bands and albums that they too held close to their heart, hence the inspired choice of Manchester 80s post-punk legends The Chameleons (right) as the support. Generously awarded a 45-minute slot, the Chameleons grasped the opportunity with both hands and delivered a terrific set, their chorus-laden guitars given just enough bite by their tight rhythms and their expressive frontman Mark Burgess, clearly loving every minute. It was evident that some of the crowd were here specifically to see these guys, whilst seeing the guy infront of me looking up the Wikipedia entry for The Chameleons on his phone suggested that they'd made a number of new fans. If any band is deserving of a critical reappraisal, it's surely these guys.

Mercury Rev walked out onto a stage lit with battery-powered candlelights, adding to the ethereal wonder of the likes of Holes and Endlessly. Despite his waif-like voice, Johnathan Donahue was a commanding stage presence, wide-eyed and beaming throughout, ushering his hands towards the sky. For every sonic detail that was sadly missing - the sax from Hudson Line, the female backing vocals on Opus 40 - they compensated elsewhere, with a singing saw on spooky instrumental Pick Up If You're There, or with an almighty wig-out to Opus 40, making for a monumental centre-piece. The Funny Bird was a transcending experience, with the ever-charismatic Grasshopper wailing the hell out of his guitar, during its epic bridges, before the Madchester-like keyboards of closer Delta Sun Bottleneck Stomp (thankfully removed of its Tom-and-Jerry-on-acid keyboard coda) really got the crowd moving, bringing a fittingly celebratory end to the main set.

After a great rendition of Peter Gabriel's Solsbury Hill, the remainder of the encore predictably comprised a greatest hits selection. Yet with the likes of Senses On Fire from 2008's more electronic-rooted Snowflake Midnight put alongside the acid-rock squall of 1991's Car Wash Hair, it really hit home that against all the odds, this band has survived major-label failures, in-fighting and copious amounts of drugs to become one of the great mainstays of Weird America. This gig was not merely the celebration of a timeless album (which I am now firmly convinced that Deserter's Songs is), but of a glorious and richly rewarding career.

Festival Review: ATP Curated by Animal Collective - Sunday

The final May ATP festival day began with a viewing of Oddsac (in a word, weird) and the obligatory participation in the ATP quiz which included a rather brilliant interpretation of what a Meat Puppet actually looks like. Soon enough though, our attentions turned to music, starting with the Entrance Band (featuring Paz Lechantin formerly of Zwan!), whose raw set of posturing psych-rock was a relative breath of fresh air at this festival. That was followed by Prince Rama (below-right), two white, glitter-clad American girls' interpretation of indian music, replete with exotic interpretive dancer (something of a recurring theme for the day). It was a highly entertaining set, but if there was one problem with Prince Rama this weekend (aside from the name) it was Gang Gang Dance. We'll come to that later.

The rest of the afternoon and early evening was unfortunately a rather scattershot affair. Tickley Feather were slight and uninteresting, whilst Tony Conrad's set - featuring a girl seemingly speaking in tongues, and violins treated in such a way that someone really should set up an RSPCV - was, to my ears, unbearable. Returning to Crazy Horse, Drawlings - a.k.a Abby Portner, sister of Dave "Avey Tare" Portner of Animal Collective - put on what first seemed a promising set of atmospheric drones, beats and vocals, but failed to find any real kind of rhythm. We left before we ever found out whether the girl laying prone on the stage ever made it fully to her feet.

Following those disappointments, I approached Centre Stage for Atlas Sound (pictured top) with some trepidation; I love Bradford Cox (in the musical sense) very much, but three years ago on this very stage he had given a dismally boring performance. Such memories were thankfully eradicated by an achingly gorgeous set, made all the more heart-warming by it being his birthday and a cake being brought on stage by a motley crew, Ariel Pink among them. Defying all expectations, Walkabout was performed sans Panda Bear, but in truth he wasn't missed. A truly touching and captivating display.

Having raved to my friend all weekend long about the brilliance of Gang Gang Dance (pictured left), I was relieved when the band delivered on all my hyperbole, producing what we unanimously agreed to be the performance of the weekend. What was particularly amazing about the performance was how the long-established House Jam became little more than a bit player to fresh cuts such as Glass Jar and Mindkilla, which were rapturously received. Whilst Liz Bougatsos went for a trek through the crowd, standard-bearer in tow, the rest of the band continued with a seamless set, and whilst the dancer in Prince Rama's set felt so integral to the overall enjoyment, here they were merely periphery figures to the genre-defying brilliance of the band. The motto behind GGD's new album Eye Contact seems to be "Positive Energy"; GGD delivered that in spades, and the crowd reciprocated it.

Lacking the energy to see Animal Collective a second time (a wise move, as it turns out that they produced a near-replica performance of the previous night), we closed out our ATP watching the second half of Teenage Fantasy's set from afar over in Reds. The electronic dance duo continued the good vibes from GGD's set, Cheaters in particular proving itself to be the brilliant tune that it is. A highly satisfying end to what had been an eclectic and often ear-shreddingly loud ATP. It's just a shame that next time around, I'll be forced to pack more winter jumpers, but then when is it ever truly warm in Minehead?

Review: Friday

Review: Saturday

Festival Review: ATP Curated by Animal Collective - Saturday

After fuelling up on "The Best Full English Breakfast in Minehead" (fair claim, actually) down near the seafront, and trying our luck at the Bingo (never again will I be able to look at the numbers 8 and 2 together in either arrangement without thinking of Barry White, a duck, and some form of bestial activity) we set off for the Centre Stage for The Brothers Unconnected. The two remaining thirds of Sun City Girls played a no-holds-barred set whose topics encompassed murdering children, racial stereotypes and gallows humour (literally), although their in-between ramblings were arguably more entertaining than the songs themselves. Also offering up first-class entertainment over in Crazy Horse was comedian Matt Baetz. Cue plenty of back-and-forth banter between him and a couple of 10-year old kids on the front row (what responsible parents they must have), jokes about video game nostalgia and on-line dating, and the weekend's most astute observation ("I've heard about Butlins. This is not where the hipsters hang out").

We then set up stall at Centre Stage for pretty much the entire day for what was a back-to-back line-up of brilliant acts. First off the Meat Puppets (pictured right), now veterans of ATP, were in splendid form reeling off their classic third album Up On The Sun. Curt Kirkwood claimed that he couldn't even remember 1985, the year of the album's original release, but he had no problem recalling the twiddly solos of the source material. A rip-roaring reprise of the title track closed a vibrant and often aggressive take on a stoner-country-punk classic. Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti  (pictured below-left) followed. The first few songs were blighted by muddy sound, but a string of songs from last year's excellent Before Today brought the set to life, allowing the band to close out on a victory lap of older classics. Throughout the set Ariel, ever the oddball, skulked about the stage Quasimodo-style.

From there, the plan was to catch the Frogs over on Reds, but such was the brilliance of Beach House's set, the plan never reached fruition. I last saw Beach House - at this very location - three years ago, but the degree to which this band has grown in sound and confidence over that time cannot be overstated. The more dynamic sound of last year's Teen Dream hinted at a band breaking into the big leagues, and in front of an impressive crowd, majestic performances of 10 Mile Stereo and Silver Soul ensured they absolutely nailed it.

Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 are little more than a footnote in 90's U.S indie rock and the small crowd they were left with after the desertion of legions of satisfied Beach House fans suggests that's not likely to change anytime soon. That's a real shame, because their unashamedly erratic songs, replete with a three-pronged guitar attack (always favourable with me) are a storm live, even after years of inactivity, and the band surely deserve a place in the upper echelons besides Pavement, Built to Spill et al.

That left it up to Animal Collective (pictured top and below) to reel in the punters once more. With Josh "Deakin" Dibb back in the fold, the curators played a 90-minute set which leaned heavily on new material, but whenever they did roll into an oldie, the effect was akin to throwing a half-chewed bone to a pack of rabid animals; Brothersport in particular elicited a delirious response. The new material by-and-large sounded hugely impressive, leaning slightly back towards a more conventional approach with Panda Bear back behind a drum-kit, and both Avey and Deakin on guitars; a notable highlight was the massive rave-up halfway through the set. This is now the fourth time I've seen AC, and the balance between new and old material, as well as that between songs and jams has been completely different each time. Despite the exponential rise in their commercial status, it appears that AC's ability to confound and amaze remains reassuringly undiminished.

Review: Friday
Review: Sunday

Festival Review: ATP Curated by Animal Collective - Friday

Minehead was once more beseiged by 20- and 30-somethings with uncouth beards and tight-fitting jeans for what is reportedly the last May ATP for the forseeable future. Curators Animal Collective eschewed the use of the traditional "head-lining" Pavillion stage, wisely opting to allocate all acts to the heightened atmosphere and superior sonics of the Centre and Reds stages, with a smattering of acts also on Crazy Horse.

The first night's lineup was fairly sparse but interesting all the same. Sleepy Doug Shaw A.K.A Highlife opened proceedings on Centre stage with an intriguing if somewhat hit-and-miss solo set of looped acoustic guitars and sparing use of electronc sounds and other instruments. Black Dice followed with what proved to be one of the sets of the weekend. Standing through one hour of the Brooklynite's dirty, shape-shifting barrage of electronic noise as it shakes you from head to toe is something of an endurance test, but there's a masochistic nature to what they do which makes the ear-bleeding pain oh-so compelling.

Unfortunately Grouper's set over on Crazy Horse proved to be an endurance test of a less favourable variety. Despite the concurrent release of her two quite excellent AIA records, Liz Harris chose to perform a tape-collage entitled Rolling Gate. Some 20 minutes in, and it was quite evident that this was going nowhere; we left to catch the end of Lee Scratch Perry's set and returned 15 minutes later, only to find that the progress made could've been measured in the musical equivalent of Angstroms. Bitterly disappointing.

Speaking of Lee Scratch Perry, the dub-reggae legend arrived fashionably late, but looking resplendent in gold-trimmed hat and various other bling. His set was undeniably good fun, and the holler of "Lee Scratch Perry! Say Lee Scratch Perry!" remained embedded in the memory for the rest of the weekend.

Review: Saturday

Review: Sunday

Review: Parts & Labor - Constant Future

Constant Future is an apt name for the fifth LP from Brooklyn-based trio Parts & Labor; whilst sonically it's no great shift forward from their previous albums, it's a confident piece of work, consolidating a niche sound which they should comfortably able to push through a few more albums to come. Behind the scenes of course, little about Parts & Labor has been constant - drummers have come and gone, and guitarist and fourth member Sarah Lipstaite lasted just a year - but to the credit of core members Dan Friel and B.J. Warshaw, none of that has ever been evident from the band's music.

The main difference between Constant Future and 2008's Receivers is the relative brevity of the songs; whilst a number of tracks on Receivers unwound steadily over 7 minutes, the songs on Constant Future tend to hit the ground running. Consequently the 12 songs here are rattled through faster than the 8 songs on Receivers. Whilst none of the songs on Constant Future could be accused of twiddling their thumbs, on occasion the conciseness can feel a little forced, as though the rug is swept from under your feet just as the song is about to hit paydirt; the lyric "nothing grows without a seed" on Without A Seed feels painfully ironic when the song fails to fully blossom after a highly promising opening.

For the most part, however, the abbreviated run-times prove to be Constant Future's greatest asset, accentuating the punchiness of the band's songwriting. The key elements of Parts & Labor's sound - the stellar guitars, complex drum patterns and electronic wig-outs - are present and correct on every song here, but the real joy of listening to Parts & Labor is the way they apply these unorthodox building blocks to big, meaty hooks and choruses, and Constant Future is rife with them. As with similarly-minded brits The Big Pink, Parts & Labor come across much more experimental on paper than they do in practise, and that suits them just fine; in Skin And Bones they even have a stomping anthem of Dominoes proportions. Nobody could claim either Friel or Warshaw to be the most expressive of vocalists, but the authorotive tones of Friel  in particular are sufficiently muscular to carry the songs to their chest-pounding choruses.

Whilst little has changed on the surface, Constant Future is a tangible improvement on Receivers. It's a thoroughly satisfying and hugely enjoyable set of songs; art-rock done on an arena scale.

79/100

Forthcoming Releases - March 2011

An interesting mix of releases this month. R.E.M look to pull themselves out of their post-Automatic For The People slump by continuing on from the good work of 2008's Accelerate. Another band with a lot to prove is The Strokes; album #4 is called Angles and is out on the 21st. Let's just hope it's as spiky as its title suggests, and doesn't fall flat like their last record. Elbow follow up on their Mercury Prize-winning The Seldom Seen Kid; first single Neat Little Rows reassuringly suggests that it's business as usual for the Mancunians. And whilst it's already out there for those who want it, Radiohead's The King Of Limbs gets an official physical release on the 28th. But who knows; by then we might be listening to a whole new set of Radiohead songs released out of the blue.

7/02
Elbow: Build A Rocket Boys! (Fiction)
R.E.M.: Collapse Into Now (Warner Bros)
Kurt Vile: Smoke Ring For My Halo (Matador)
Parts & Labor: Constant Future (Jagjaguwar)
Rainbow Arabia: Boys & Diamonds (Kompakt)
Those Dancing Days: Daydreams & Nightmares (Wichita)

14/02
Dodos: No Color (French Kiss)
J Mascis: Several Shades Of Why (Sub Pop)

21/02
The Strokes: Angles (RCA)

28/02
Broken Bells: Meyrin Fields EP (Columbia)
Dirty Beaches: Badlands (Zoo)
Micachu & The Shapes and the London Sinfonietta : Chopped And Screwed (Rough Trade)
The Mountain Goats: All Eternals Deck (Merge)
The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart: Belong (Slumberland)
Radiohead: The King Of Limbs (XL)
Secret Cities: Strange Hearts (Western Vinyl)

Do You Remember The First Time? #3 Grizzly Bear - On A Neck, On A Spit

Most music critics and their dogs will have you believe that 2009's Veckatimest was Grizzly Bear's masterpiece-to-date, the album we'd been waiting for them to deliver. They're wrong. Whilst there's plenty to admire about the meticulously arranged avante-pop of Veckatimest, it was distinctly lacking in the atmosphere that was dripping from their preceding album, Yellow House. Possibly my favourite album of 2006, Yellow House was a haunting set of songs; enticing you in with the wispy flutes of Easier, the album guided you by the hand through what felt like a rich undergrowth; songs like Little Brother chitter with wildlife. But that warm welcome is quickly withdrawn and a feeling of unease sets in, as supicious voices whisper incoherently around you. Guitars creak and roar into life like tree branches moving in the wind. Ghostly ballads like Plans and Marla give a genuine sense of the creeps. By the time the album's brooding closer Colorado comes to an end you feel like you've come through an ordeal, and yet as you look back and see the sun peeking through the foliage, you can't help but want to wander in again.

I was introduced to Grizzly Bear via its centrepiece On A Neck, On A Spit, and it remains my favourite song of theirs. In many ways, it encapsulates everything that is so great about Grizzly Bear, both then and now. The song's first half is hushed and rustic, threatening to burst into life with thick stabs of acoustic guitar  and rumbling guitars before withdrawing once more. Then a rich, nimble acoustic guitar line threads its way in and the song steadily picks up momentum, leading to the kind of barnstorming climax that the band have perhaps become just a little too over-reliant on ever since. But here it feels like rich reward for riding with the song's highs and lows.

In recent performances, the band have done away with the song's first half and cut straight to the chase, which says a lot about the band's subsequent musical trajectory. Here it is in full, as it should be heard:

Music vid: The Walkmen - While I Shovel The Snow

No band does "wintry" better than The Walkmen. This is a band, after all, which has written songs called In The New Year, No Christmas While I'm Talking and The North Pole. And Lisbon, another superb outing from the New Yorkers, features another seasonal offering with While I Shovel The Snow and this video.

Review: Radiohead - The King Of Limbs

Radiohead albums; one week you're wondering just when the next one might come along, the following week it's sitting on your laptop. Following 2007's In Rainbows, Radiohead have trumped convention once more with The King Of Limbs; touted as (probably) the "World's First Newspaper Album", and to be released its full grandiose form on May 9 (including, amongst other things, two ten-inch vinyls and 625 pieces of tiny artwork), the album arrived in digital form last Friday with no prior fanfare or warning. But have the band, as with In Rainbows, pulled another rabbit out of the hat, or is The King Of Limbs merely smoke and mirrors?

On first listen, The King Of Limbs sounds both instantly familiar and yet subtly different to prior Radiohead albums; more a reconfiguration of past sounds than a step into the new, TKOL is a neat amalgamation of the past decade's work, pitting the skittish electronics and beats of Amnesiac and even Thom Yorke's  solo outing The Eraser against the warmer textures of In Rainbows. At a time where praise and admiration has been heaped, overzealously perhaps, on James Blake's dubstep-meets-soul, the dubstep influenced sound of TKOL, particularly during it's first half, proves a shrewd decision; Feral, with its cut-and-paste vocals, glitchy beats and restlessly shifting dynamics is particularly effective. The first minute of opener Bloom's complex cyclic drum patterns, tinkling piano and wobbly electronic bleeps feel disconnected at first, but the introduction of Yorke's vocals see these seemingly disparate elements meld together in wonderful fashion. Whether you're listening through a hi-fi or a pair of headphones, TKOL yields different rewards; the former reveals the satisfying room-shaking levels of bass on songs like Morning Mr Magpie whilst the disorientating shrouded vocals on Feral are surely best heard on the latter.

Of course, even Radiohead's more difficult albums have featured moments of almost unparalleled beauty,but on the second half of TKOL, the band may have excelled themselves. Codex is one of those weighty piano ballads which they seem to do so well, made all the more poigniant by molten waves of horns which shimmer under its surface; surely another Pyramid Song in the making? Give Up The Ghost is even lovlier, floating Yorke's haunting vocals over a warm campfire beat and acoustic guitar, before dissolving into the mist. Closing track Separator reprises the circular drum patterns of the album's first half, but allows Johnny Greenwood's guitar to lap gently and lovingly around the track's core.

More experimental than In Rainbows, but better executed than the likes of Amnesiac and Hail To The Thief, The King Of Limbs slots very neatly into the Radiohead canon. Having waited over three years for a new Radiohead release, some might feel short-changed by TKOL's mere eight tracks and 37-minute running time. But for the second time in a row, Radiohead have dropped upon us a fully cohesive album of front-to-back excellence.

87/100

Jeff Mangum (Neutral Milk Hotel) to curate December ATP!

Crikey! If he carries on like this, everyone will have to drop the "recluse" tag. Not content with just playing a special set at the New Jersey leg of the Portishead-curated I'll Be Your Mirror festival, Jeff Mangum is now curating an entire ATP Festival at Butlins, Minehead during 2nd-4th December! Tickets go on sale this friday from the ATP website. The Neutral Milk Hotel legend will be playing a headlining set, and has already enlisted the following (with much more to come):

JEFF MANGUM (from Neutral Milk Hotel)
SUPERCHUNK
THE OLIVIA TREMOR CONTROL
YOUNG MARBLE GIANTS
THE MAGIC BAND
THE RAINCOATS performing The Raincoats (debut LP)
A HAWK AND A HACKSAW
TINARIWEN
THE APPLES IN STEREO

Looks like it could potentially evolve into an Elephant Six-orgy; surely Mangum won't pass the chance to join OTC on stage? If that's not enough, Mangum is also doing a run of shows across North America in the months leading up to ATP. For those of us without the cash to spare, here's praying he'll do a couple of UK dates around the time of ATP.