JoeMacAllister spent his childhood earning a crust as a Rod Stewart impersonator, but that life is behind him now. At present, Joe is a budding rockstar, incredibly fond of snazzy footwear, ginger biscuits, and dancing to Aerosmith - though take heed, one should never dance on a full stomach. Tags: 103, Black Kids, Euro Disco, Falling Over, Higher Than The Stars, Kip Berman, The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart
Like a tentatively worded remark on a school report, perhaps the nicest thing I can say about this release from The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart (TPOBPAH) is that it shows some potential. Lead track `Higher Than The Stars` will stick in your head, and is a genuinely catchy, if slightly twee, indie tune. Things go quickly downhill after that, as Kip Berman’s occasionally interesting lyrics are lost under bland blankets of sound. Limp acoustic guitars play host to the lovelorn couplets of `Falling Over`, a song which follows the winning formula that Black Kids laid out in 2008, only not so convincingly. `103` sounds like the pre-programmed `Euro-Disco` beat off of an old Yamaha keyboard. Intermittent synth flourishes liven things up throughout the EP, recalling early Grandaddy or Lemon Jelly, but it’s not enough to stop me dozing off by the halfway point of each track. What was maybe intended as exploratory has ended up being boring for the listener. It could be down to the flat production but I’m left wondering how Brooklyn, the scintillating home of Santogold, the Beastie Boys and Jay Z, spurned a band so humdrum. Sorry TPOBPAH, but I’m yet to be charmed.
In `Knees, Toes, Teeth` The Ghost Of A Thousand deliver a no-frills exercise in beat-‘em-up rock and roll, and it’s incredibly good fun. Distorted guitars bludgeon you to the ground whilst pitbull drums aim straight for the head. The tight riffage sounds like a tape of Jimmy Page on fast forward, and the whole glorious racket is underpinned by singer, Tom Lacey’s nightmarish howl. Not that there isn’t refinement to the band’s primal sound. Much like Canadian hardcore luminaries, Fucked Up, The Ghost Of A Thousand are expert at condensing their riotous energy into joyous, three minute bursts. This is pop music for people who hate the X Factor, and only watch it in the vain hope that Simon Cowell will spontaneously explode (it could still happen people). “Fucking New Romantics, it’s only Rock-N-Roll”, “I’ll die without a care, but that’s cool”, “We all kneel down to the beat of the sound.” These are just a few of the über cool mission statements you’ll find in `Knees, Toes, Teeth`. The Ghost Of A Thousand are clearly believers in the mighty, transcendental power of rock, and if you are too, I would strongly advise you to join them.
Anyone who has seen Sam Isaac’s video for the song, `Sideways`, should already be a fan. If you weren’t bowled over by the whimsical charm of the lyrics, then surely the fact that they were painstakingly illustrated on iced cakes won you round – if not, then there must be something cold in your soul (or maybe you just don’t have a sweet tooth.) Songs as confectionary scores highly for me though (in my book of eccentric music videos, in which A-Ha take first place with that one where they turn into shaky pencil drawings).
Don your tuxedos and fiddly bow-ties for Tiny Spark’s debut EP, `For You The World Waits`. The opening track of the same title sounds like the theme tune to a Bond movie, albeit if Daniel Craig was a fan of mature and reflective indie-pop (don’t say the C-word now). It’s hard not to draw comparisons to Chris Martin’s world-conquering gang though. Tiny Spark are five affable chaps from Portsmouth, whose piano-heavy brand of indie boasts a melodramatic stomp – one that could well cause mass vibrations in the public ear. After a powerful start, the EP sets its sights firmly for the mainstream, pairing close-knit vocal harmonies with chart-friendly tunes. The results are mixed. Whilst `Alaska` is a showcase for George Lenton’s smooth vocals and a cracking slide guitar solo, `Go On` is bombastic, boring indie for any Gene fans that might be left from the 90’s (hello?). `Never Met That Girl` also sounds dated and needlessly epic, with wannabe U2 production and an irritating chorus. `The Next Thing You Know` has some inventive harmonies but after a while the soaring strings and overblown choruses start to sound very samey. Thankfully, `September` provides the EP with its saving grace – gutsier than the other songs and a glimpse of something more edgy. Low-down, Muse-like guitar riffs wind menacingly around Lenton’s ominous lyrics: “I’ve got a plan, a plan to keep you in my heart”. This short collection introduces a good looking, charming, bunch of lads then, making cinematic-if-sometimes-boring indie for the masses. Like Anakin Skywalker though, I’m sure it would be more exciting if they explored their dark sides.
Metric’s latest album, `Fantasies`, is a hotbed of devilish and savvy pop creations. `Help I’m Alive` begins with short bursts of machine gun drumming, before growing into an electro-indie anthem, synths and acoustic guitars intertwined in an heroic chorus. Singer, Emily Haines’ voice is a husky, whispering curio. Imagine The Postal Service partying with Yeah Yeah Yeahs (do TPS party?) and you’re not far off. `Sick Muse` borrows the twanging guitar riff from Depeche Mode’s `Personal Jesus` and puts it to brilliant effect. Haines’ sneering lyrics build up to a perfectly formed sing-along chorus – “watch out cupid, stuck me with a sickness. Pull your little arrows out and let me live my life.” Daughter of the poet, Paul Haines, Emily also has a natty way with words. Her lyrics often conceal a bite beneath their deadpan delivery: On `Satellite Mind`, for instance she tells a couple, “Heard you fuck through the wall”. Throughout the album, the lyrics are always a highlight, at times sincere, playful and idiosyncratic. The ethereal `Twilight Galaxy` glimmers as Haines triumphantly declares, “I’ve seen all the demons that you’ve got.” The stuttering beat and ripsaw guitars of `Gold and The Guns` evokes early Peaches, outré sleaze replaced with conscience and class. `Front Row` is a passable Strokes guitar number, immediately upstaged by the following track, `Blindness`, a surging ballad complete with soaring keyboards and electro choirs. `Fantasies` closes on a high with the clattering `Stadium Love`: big beat drums, enthusiastic `whoo-whoos` and killer distorted guitars. Metric have pulled off a difficult trick in producing an album of introspective, intelligent pop songs that would sound just as good alone in your bedroom as they would in a packed venue.
What is cool? Imelda May is cool. Although I’ve just seen her in a posh village hall in Stratford – where the average age of the audience was pushing 60, and the prevailing fashion of the night certainly had more in common with Howard Moon than Vince Noir (The Mighty Boosh)– it was one of the coolest performances I’ve yet seen in my fledgling years.
`Oh My God, Charlie Darwin` sounds like an album that has been passed on from generation to generation, over several dusty decades. It is astonishing, therefore, to discover that the project – a collaboration between university friends and baseball enthusiasts, Ben Knox Miller and Jeff Prystowsky – was born as early as 2006. The album has already received high praise in America – its undoubted spiritual home – but for those who find escapism in the elegiac strains of Springsteen’s character vignettes, or the lonesome wail of Dylan’s harmonica, The Low Anthem are sure to please. Opener, `Charlie Darwin` is an instant attention-grabbing highlight, as Miller’s gorgeous soprano soars like the embers of a dying campfire. As you might have guessed from the title, man’s existence and survival are resounding themes, and it’s not hard to imagine Miller and Prystowsky gazing in wide wonder at the stars, wondering how it all happened. `Ticket Taker` invokes the winsome Americana of Giant Sand, deftly telling the story of a pessimistic but love-struck ticket taker – “They say the sky’s the limit, the sky’s about to fall.” The Low Anthem are clearly fine purveyors of sumptuous folk ditties, simultaneously melancholic and life-affirming. There are, however a couple of songs on this album that stick out like a sore thumb. `The Horizon Is A Beltway` and `Home I’ll Never Be` are a clear homage to the great Tom Waits (the latter is a cover), and whilst accomplished, their noisy, barn-storming style clashes with the gentler tracks on the album. That said, ‘OMGCD’ mostly succeeds in taking a blend of archaic, timeless styles and presenting them as something that rings with dew-drop freshness.
It’s a breezy Tuesday night at the Bodega Social and first band, Nephu Huzzband, quickly make it clear that most Doves fans would be out of their depth here (the mellow-indie kings are playing down the road at Rock City tonight). Rather than retreat from their diminished audience, the local lads attack with all guns blazing; an intense, joyful experience, buzzing with the energy of early At The Drive In shows, their brand of post-punk hardcore is enough to set any discerning noise-nik’s heart racing. Latest single, `No Not Ever` is a set highlight. They may not have been headlining but Nephu Huzzband were the best band on the bill tonight.
Admittedly, my heart did not leap into my throat, beating with excitement when I saw that I was to review an album made by a 73 year old German ambient electro maestro – it’s not normally the kind of proposition that excites me. However, with doubts put on hold, I dove headfirst into the 11 tracks that make up `Fibre`, the latest release from said maestro, Hans Joachim Roedelius, who collaborates with Noh1 (aka George Taylor) – a sought-after TV and Film soundtrack ace. Although there are no tracks on this album that will have you leaping around on your feet, there is still much to appreciate and a wealth of musical variety on show. It’s nowhere near as intellectually detached as I was expecting it to be either. Whilst the album took 2 years to produce – and this painstaking attention to detail is evident in the finesse of the recordings – the deftly precise musicians still manage to make the tracks flow and develop with an earthy, organic warmth – fitting as they were recorded in a barn in rural Shropshire. `Clockwork Green` welcomes you with open arms, Roedelius’ simple piano motifs gently tumbling amidst the reserved licks of Simple Minds’ guitarist, Jez Coad, and Martyn Baker’s fragmented percussion. The blissful distorted guitar riffs of `Bar 93` are a particular highlight, whilst `A Long Trip`, with it’s crackly vocal samples and gliding synths, is pleasingly reminiscent of Lemon Jelly’s chill-out epic (an oxymoron if ever there was one), `Space Walk`. Roedelius’ version also comes with added funky guitars and a harmonica – not at all a bad thing. The album is not without a couple of jarring moments though. The overblown `Odessa Movement` ventures into the dangerous realms of sounding like the score to a cheesy low-budget Channel 5 drama, in which the actors have more hairspray than talent. Aside from this minor glitch, if you are willing to slip into Roedelius’ “zen-like aura” and gentle pace of life, then `Fibre` is a rich and satisfying piece of work to relax with.
Writing as someone who has been let down by Mr Doherty before – I was a 14 year old mega-Libs fan when he didn’t show up for the band’s performance at Glastonbury 2003 – and having just been denied an interview with the man due to “a busy schedule”, it is with trepidation and a little bit of bad feeling that I enter the cavernous hall of the Engine Shed for one of his first solo gigs.
