To mention the name Grasscut at this point in time is, truthfully, the way to get a response equalling "Who?" Sad as that truth is, it's what puts them out in that great moment of Tony Wilson-esque "History". No doubt the speech has made its rounds on this blog quite enough, but, to refresh you on it (breifly - Ed.): A moment in history doesn't require a vast following: 3 at the death of Julius Caesar, 13 at the Last Supper, a few dozen at the first Sex Pistols gig in Manchester which lead to Factory Records being created. Therefore, this little-known Brighton twosome are obviously destined for greatness in the world.

The debut album of Brighton-based duo Andrew Phillips and Marcus O'Dair, simplistically titled 1 Inch / 1/2 Mile, is a musical map of the lives and times of the British Isles. Travelling from the Suffolk South Downs, via Wales, Brighton, and the words of Ezra Pound and Hilaire Belloc, the sounds that emanate from this album encapsulate a sense of electronica, and a long-forgotten time. In places, it is woeful, folorn, a total post-punk, post-apocalyptic masterwork. In others, it actually reeks of Steampunk, but, I am hesitant to call it that, since it's more structured and narrative; a sort of Steamfolk, if you will.

From almost sounding like a half-baked 65 Days of Static, this duo build up the album through High Downs, Old Machines and Meltwater, before falling into what I can only describe as the best piece of sampling I have heard thus far. That comes in the shape of The Tin Man, a song that involves a creaky gate recorded on a mobile phone, "the People's Tenor" on a '20s vinyl, and the story of a man with a metal cane. It is at this point where the Marmite Factor comes into it - you'll either love the high-pitched, antiquated vocals from the recorded gramophone, or you'll loathe the entire project thus far. From then on, it drifts between Eluvium and 65DOS in equal measure; ambient, enthralling, and slightly quirky.

Personally, there are few faults within this album. Okay, that was far too subjective. Objectively: There are flaws. They're not gaping holes, but they do strike you as obvious ones - sometimes the melodies don't match the sampled lyrics. Other times, the songs just sound out of place (Muppet being a key example). However, what it does is falls into that category of music that I actually think lacks a name at present. It's in there with groups like the Unextraordinary Gentlemen, or The Correspondents. If labelling and genre pigeonholing were my cup-of-tea, I'd have to pin them all under the same Retronica label.

So, insofar as Retronica goes, this is a pretty decent attempt at reconciling the past and the present. This is also a pretty good attempt taking a road-less-travelled. In fact, despite it probably fading into obscurity very quickly, I think 1 Inch / 1/2 Mile has all the makings of a genre-definer, if taken into the fold, and given pride of place with the other Retronica albums of note. Here's hoping, eh?


Overall: 6/10 - A bit ropey in places, but, all the trappings of a good, solid album lie under the cracks in the masonry.

Top Track - The Door in the Wall

The other day, I switched on the TV to see what could only be described as Thriller meets Fight for this Love. It was in fact the video for Ellie Goulding's Guns and Horses, a single which is probably as infectious as the rest of her repertoire. Coming out of nowhere and in less than a year, thanks in part to Frankmusik, she has stormed the charts and become a mainstay on radio and television. Perhaps, three singles down, now is the right time to take stock of what she's capable of?

Lights is the debut album of Ms Goulding, an ex-drama student from the University of Kent, who had a bit of a lucky break and managed to catch the ears of the BBC Sound of 2010 pollsters. From her high horse, she's managed to put out an album of debateable quality. On some levels its perfect electropop, and on others its just-another-pop-album.

It has its strong points. It's really quite a good party album. It starts off really strong, in fact extremely strong. You get the little vocal hiccup of "Wow, her voice is a bit scratchy" on Guns and Horses, but, then you get into it and the beat picks up; it's just what you need these days. Smiley-happy-pop. What Ellie could have managed with the first four songs is an EP of monumental proportions - I mean, it would have made an epic piece of popular music if she'd just released up as far as Under the Sheets on one short-player.

If she'd done that, however, you'd miss out on the magic to come. The Writer actually shocked me. I was so used to the teeny-bopper pop-fusion that it was becoming rather habitual to expect more uptempo "tuneage". This could be the point that you go "What?" because I sure as hell did. That said, it's a very good what. This is the Ellie that people need to see, because otherwise she's going to be pigeonholed as an electronica artist like every other two-bit act out there.

Then it's all lost. It's back to the uptempo downtrodden sound of the rest of the album. It's fair to say that perhaps she manages to shine through even more by juxtaposing that little gem in amongst all this sand; the diamond in the rough and all that. I suppose other songs come close to bringing out that brilliance, but it covers it over with drumtracks and sequencing. For an electronica album though, I should be happy with what I'm being given, because it's not bad at all for a first attempt.

Overall: 7/10 - A bit generic in places, definitely worthy of praise though.

Top Track: Starry Eyed (though personally I prefer The Writer...)

Twee Pop has always interested me, but in the sense that it's unfathomable. Some people do it really well, and some people just do some jamboree of horrid sounds. Yet, some Twee nonsense always seems to make it on to every summer playlist ever made - this summer, it's the turn of the tin-earred, 80s reject that is Darwin Deez, a man whose allure I can't quite fathom.

So, we've learned in the course of this album that Darwin Deez, the frontman who suddenly seems so cocky by naming a band after his persona, and then their first album after the band that's named after him, is a talentless hack. Sure, in the world of indie it's all fun and games to be "punk rock" and tone deaf, but, when it comes to music I've heard tone deaf songs sound half good, even when they're half-baked.

What you get with this eponymous album is half-baked ideas for songs which almost all sound the same and blend into each other. Sometimes, when they're good, they're ruined by the crackly, pitchy vocals of Mr Deez himself. So, yes, punk rock, Neutral Milk Hotel, all that. But for this, it just doesn't fly. You cannot hide behind something like that; you have to admit that as indie cindy as you may be - you are not a rockstar, or a popstar, or even a personality for that matter. You are just ruining music.

It's all well and good for me to go off on a rant right now, but the reason this album is so terrible is because it's just lacking in that drive to push itself to do something a bit more. I mean, I could have turned off after a couple of songs and said "You know what, this is an alright EP" but, it's just like pushing a boulder up a hill that doesn't stop - I lost the will to live when the same chords and droning, whining vocals came in yet again on the next song.

So, some advice: Mr Deez. If you're ever allowed to make another album, please think about making things interesting for the listener. Think of it as scrapbooking. Put in loads of elements; mix it up a bit. Don't just create a family album where all the photos were taken on the same day and call it done

Overall: 3/10 - Samey, boring, lacking drive. However, Radar Detector. Addictive.

Top Track: Radar Detector

Ohio seems to be one of those lesser-known musical centres. It's given us Trent Reznor, Screaming Jay Hawkins, Marilyn Manson, and to a lesser extent Dave Grohl. Still, amongst all that acoustic chaff, there's got to be something worth listening to, right? Well, that's where The National come in. The all-American sextet have had 3 years of projects since their last full album, Boxer, in 2007, and now, they're back on top form.

Everyone could immediately switch off after the first track on High Violet. I'm sure you'd all like to. Terrible Love is indeed that: terrible. It's slightly off-kilter when taken in with the rest of the album. It's a jarring start. It's something I don't like. However, once Sorrow kicks in, that's when the album becomes what it is: it's a contemplation; it's a message; it's an album that a lot of rock bands are doing these days - the meaningful one before they fade into obscurity again.

This is coming across all wrong, right, readers? The intro says they're on top form, but I've just said they're going to fade into obscurity. Well, that's just it. It's an album that wins you over, and that's what I want to do in this: You need to be won over by it. No amount of critique could tell you how good it is, because frankly every critic, myself included, is dry-humping the hell out of this. I've read the reviews; I've seen the scores; I didn't believe.

What this album manages to do is envelop you in a sense of total tranquility. Think what Coldplay tried to do with Viva la Vida, but better. This isn't quite rock and roll, but, it's one of those albums that you shouldn't let pass you by. There's the urge to call it indie pop; there's the urge to compare it to a more peaceful Editors, Joy Division or other band with a sonorous soloist up front. Of course, it is neither one nor the other of these. It could be compared to a silk robe: simple on the surface, but intricate beneath. Yet, it's that something which defies all comparison which makes it a perfect soundtrack.

It could be raining outside, and you could be inside with a hot beverage; it could be a rare, sunny day, and you could be reading Dostoevsky; either way, this would be the soundtrack to it all. It doesn't ask to be played loudly; it doesn't ask for attention like all others of the same genre, trying to hold you in their complex riffs, with their overdone everything. None of that here. Simplicity is the name of the game. That's why you should listen.

Overall: 8/10 - A bit of a rocky start, but, once it gets flowing it lives up to the hype, if not surpasses it.

Top Track: England

Unless you've been living under a rock, you'll know of The Dead Weather. They hit Glastonbury last year as the 'secret act' that everyone had been speculating about; they came totally out of left field, and stormed their way right into the rock scene like every other project the enigmatic Jack White has been involved in. There's a song that says "You've got to keep the Devil way down in the hole", but, when it comes to the diabolic genius of Jack White, and his collaboration with Alison Mosshart (The Kills), Dean Fertita (Queens of the Stone Age) and Jack Lawrence (The Raconteurs), it's probably best to let him out, and into your headphones.

Ballsy and Bluesy are the first things that spring to mind with Sea of Cowards. I've said it before: there's something raw, visceral, untamed and edgy about this side of Jack White's projects. Sure, The White Stripes were always 'blues-garage-rock' and The Raconteurs kind of touched on this, but where The Dead Weather dare to tread is a no-man's land, piled high with Spinal Tap-esque amps, and populated by the rotting corpses of Muddy Waters, Les Paul, and Blind Lemon Jefferson...

Beyond those pure blues-and-roll riffs, what else has it got? Well - it's like injecting molasses into your ears. It's sludgy, slow, and yet, the sugary-sweet high is over in a matter of seconds. I was quite shocked on first tuning into this, finding it to be a little over 35 minutes in length. Whilst that definitely explains how it was able to be pushed out in 15 months, it doesn't explain how it could be so darned good. You find yourself reaching the end and wanting more; so much more.

The single Die By The Drop is probably the point where White, Fertita, Lawrence and Mosshart pin up the sign "Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here". It's definitely the point where the album hits its mainstream zenith, and then begins the winding, country road back down to the bayou, head bobbing all the way, foot tapping, and maybe even a wry smile available. If you liked it up to now, this is the real turning point. For me, it was where I turned it up even louder; but it might well be where you walk away.

What this album packs into its almost minuscule time-frame is amazing, frankly. I'm sure people who are fans of bands like Lightning Bolt and hardcore punk outfits will no doubt say that it's easy to do. Yes, it is easy to cram songs into an album. However, it's not easy to find yourself the kind of consistent quality that is provided from start-to-finish with this. It's probably the progression that should have been in the fusion between the dark and the Americana, instead of psychobilly. In fact, it's a slice of Mississippi Mud Cake heaped with some of the smoothest whipped cream; it's an afternoon treat that'll leave you salivating for more. It's Jack White at his best.

Overall: 9/10 - Probably one of my favourite albums of the year so far. I cannot deny that this is just what the doctor ordered.

Top Track: Gasoline

Lawrence Arabia is the project of one New Zealander named James Milne. His folky sounds came to my attention via Race Horses, and the fact that they're both playing in Cardiff next weekend (and I'm hoping to get tickets). As the last of my reviews before I start my new project on this blog, I figured it was only right to give this guy a review. This is his second solo album, and it goes a little something like this...

Lawrence Arabia make indie folk seem effortless. The album itself isn't particularly outstanding; it fits into the category of "indie pop" in the same vein as Camera Obscura, and Belle and Sebastian, making sounds that are too perfect and bubblegum; bordering on folk, bordering on pop. Think of him as a New Zealander Pelle Carlberg, if you will; although nowhere near as infectious. Maybe a wry smile here and there when you agree with a tune.

Still, what is good about this album is the fact that it manages pop without being pretentious about it. It's not pop in the sense that you'd think of Cher or Tom Jones; Fall Out Boy or The Beatles. It's pop in the sense that he sings so sweetly and composes songs that seem so deep and layered sometimes that they could be real hits, if it weren't for the lack of catchy lyrics.

I think this one is hit or miss though. For me, it's ups and downs; certain songs are really good, others aren't exactly worth going back for. I suppose you could say it's an average album then? Not really; the good songs are really good, and the 'bad' songs aren't actually bad, they just pale in comparison to the really good songs. I suppose that's what you get when it's something decent, for once.


Overall: 7.5/10 - I really think it's pushing to be a good album. It's definitely above average, but it does have those moments where you hit a sub-par song and think "Wait, what happened!?" Definitely a grower though.

Top Track: The Beautiful Young Crew

It seems I'm having a week of inspiration; finding music that I've never really given a chance, even if it's not necessarily new. Popping up today in my ears is Scottish alt-folk quartet Le Reno Amps, a band who, for the last 3 years, have sat on my hard drive doing little more than stagnating slowly. So, three years after receiving this album for doing a promotional review for a magazine (which I believe was never actually published), I'm going to get around to giving So For Your Thrills a real work-out!

Le Reno Amps were never my scene back when I was handed this album and told "Go downstairs, there's a free PC there that nobody uses. Give it a few listens; let it grow on you, or just review it straight off...whatever. Just get it done. You can keep it after; we don't tend to hang on to these promotional CDs." So, that's how I got a hold of it, free and for gratis, and it proudly sits with a few other promotional CDs (like a hot-off-the-presses promo of Feist's My Moon, My Man) in my CD drawer at home.

Aside from that short history lesson, what else can I tell you? Le Reno Amps, a nice anagram of founding members (Al) Nero and (Scott) Maple, began way back in 2004 up in Aberdeen before moving to Glasgow, in order to gig more and still keep their jobs. They had their first official 'debut' as a fully-fledged group in 2006, and released this album in April 2007 (a month after I was handed that promo copy). Some call them indie, some call them alt-country, and they...well...I don't think they stoop so low as to label themselves.

So For Your Thrills is all one could expect from an alt-folk album. It borders on the side of Belle and Sebastian's indie pop shenanigans, but, by some fluke miracle, it comes out sounding highly original - less like a half-assed Bright Eyes, slightly more fleshed out than Bob Dylan, and more like a genuine band in their own right.

Harmonicas, harmonies and harmless infectious-indie-pop aside, there's the obvious issue of quality. Particularly with Tree House, there's a sense that they don't exactly sound stellar vocally; but, neither does Conor Oberst or that Fishermans band I reviewed the other day. It's a minor point to pick up on, but, there's not much else to pick on, honestly.

Maybe I'm getting simpler in my old age, and I just want an acoustic guitar and an accordion, and a melody which makes me sway and wish I had a lighter to hold in the air, like some dilapidated, ageing hippie, reliving his 'good old days'. Thinking of it, the simplicity of this album is just beautiful. It's not cocky; it's not showy; at least not until the final song where it goes out with a bang. Still, Charles Mingus once said:

Making the simple complicated is commonplace; making the complicated simple, awesomely simple, that's creativity.

He was right.


Overall: 9/10 - What can I say? It's inspired simplicity. The vocals make me think of Bob Dylan, but it has something a bit more there. Maybe it's because it's less political and seems to just be a jamboree of contagious fun. Maybe it's just good.

Top Track: Deserted Sons

It seems that all I'm doing lately is reviewing EPs, but that's the way it is right now. It's only just 2010, and I've not found an album to interest me, only the odd EP. This time round, it's a favourite of mine, Race Horses (formerly Radio Luxembourg) with their four track Man in my Mind.

As Radio Luxembourg, when they appeared on Welsh music programme Bandit, I can admit I was in love with these guys. I've never heard such amazing songs come from the Welsh medium; the closest I've got was The Poppies a few years ago, and even they pale in comparison to the synthetic pop that was presented by these boys. (Yes, that was meant to be a pun...synthetic...drugs...psychadelia...what all the media outlets say about these boys).

Anyway, Man on my Mind is the follow-up EP to Diwrnod efo'r Anifeiliad...or at least it would be if the preceding EP wasn't in Welsh under their guise of Radio Luxembourg, and this one is in English to come before their album due at the end of this month. It's not a long EP, it's a filler in all honesty. Still, open mind and all that.

The thing about this EP is that the title track sounds like the English successor to the old Welsh tracks I love so much from this band. It's the Henry Tudor to their original Owain Glyndwr - it's not a direct successor, but, I'd still support it. It's erratic enough to warrant being in their collection; and catchy enough too. From there, though, it all seems to be a bit up and down. Mostly down, until it throws itself off for a twee finale the likes of which is worthy of praise.

However, for an EP, it really is just that, it's a filler between projects, and right now it's a nice introduction for kids who've never heard of Race Horses before today. It's nothing special, but, neither is it so dire that you shouldn't listen to it. In fact, I'd recommend getting it just for the opener and the closer, which are both cracking songs - especially the way the closer opens with what can only be described as the theme to an 80s kids show involving puppets before blasting into something more reminiscent of The Futureheads or some such indie pop group.


Overall: 6/10 - Bearing in mind it's an EP, and making this comparative to the Fisherman's EP, it's good, but not spectacular. Still, give it a listen if you like indie pop.

Top Track Last Boat To Dove

So it's 2010, everyone, and I've decided to start off with a true Independent album. This was recorded in the basement of a band member's house, on a lone microphone, and it is the debut EP of Chicago eight-piece Fishermans

When you see the phrase "recorded in Kevin's basement on one mic" you instantly know you're either onto a winner here or a total wash-out sham. Luckily, for the guys and gals in Fisherman's I quite enjoyed their debut.

The eponymous EP was released last May, and I've just stumbled across it in my looking for some new music to keep me entertained in this new decade. It's like a cross between a lo-fi Arcade Fire, and Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin; it has that obvious DIY feel to it, but it has that nicely layered effect you get from groups in the Chamber Pop and Twee Pop world. I tapped my feet and bobbed my head along, and wondered how the hell they sounded so good; it doesn't sound autotuned, it just sounds like it says on the tin.

The best bit about it is the fact that it's free-ish. I bought it off a Amie Street, so I suppose the band are getting a fee from me; but, it's also up (as I later discovered) for free download. Who can complain about getting a rather good album, for free? I wouldn't. Especially when the songs are quite amazing for something so evidently low-budget. From a pre-apocalyptic love song in 2012 through the haunting White Oak Woods and out into the faux-noir of This Is No Time For Historical Accuracy, this is a self-done, indie album of the highest order that you deserve to hear this year.

Overall: 8/10 - For a self-done EP, it doesn't half sound good. I suppose if it had been professionally done, with all that autotuning and nonsense, it might be worthy of more, but, it's a decent first-effort for a band just starting out. I just wish I'd found it earlier.

Top Track: This Is No Time For Historical Accuracy

I'll be the first to admit I haven't picked up on anything that Chris Carrabba has done in the last four years. Apparently there have been three Dashboard Confessional albums since I last tuned in and paid attention to the epic whining bitch that is Dashboard, back in the day of black hair, black nails, and generally monochrome clothing. So, I decided to look into the latest album, when I was informed that there was one ironically floating around.

Alter the Ending is the 6th album that whiny bitches Dashboard Confessional have released in the last decade. Six in nine is a good number, especially when all the songs still sound exactly the same as the last time I listened to them. It's always that "Could be on a movie soundtrack where the whiny bitch gets dumped by his far-too-good-for-him girlfriend" kind of track, one after the other. I think Chris Carrabba sums it up, ironically, in his opening track: "I struggle so hard to believe"...and I do, I struggle to believe that someone can have this much angst bottled up inside them, when they're 34 and should be out working, or with their wife.

So, what can I say about this?

Is it a masterpiece? No. Not really. It's another slice of the same pie we've been force-fed by Carrabba since 2002.
What about the title track? Well, that's pretty lame; the opener is a stronger tune than the overly pretentious "post-hardcore" "Green Day wannabe" balls that's been thrown out with the name of Alter the Ending.
So, it's bad? No. I wouldn't say it's bad. I'd just say that it's been done to death. Carrabba is flogging a dead horse, with all the dead horses in the world. Sure, if you can stick 45 minutes of his bitching and moaning; or you're a 15 year old girl going through a tough break-up, it's alright. Passable, I believe is the word the Four Yorkshiremen would use - "Aye, passable that..."
Why are you skirting the issue? Isn't it obvious? I don't like this album, but I think it has its merits; in that, it poses a very good question - Do people still give a shit about Dashboard anymore? Oh, that, and the fact that I admittedly couldn't listen to it to the end. I'd actually prefer to have the Jo'Bros latest trash pumped directly into my brain while strapped to a chair a la Alex DeLarge.

And that's my five cents. Sure, it's not the best review ever, but, neither is it the best album ever. Sheesh.

5/10

Top Track: Until Morning

As a long time Biffy Clyro fan, I've recently lost faith in the ability of the trio to create music that is true 'Biffy'. I fell in love with Blackened Sky, enjoyed Vertigo of Bliss, and spent many many weeks with Infinity Land on repeat. It was only after the release of Puzzle that I began to feel that they had lost their pizzazz. I'm ashamed to say that it hasn't returned in Only Revolutions.

After leaving Beggar's Banquet, and joining Warner Bros. it seems as though 'the Biffy' have lost it. Gone are the days of spit-and-sawdust; gone are the days of chugging riffs and walls of sound. Only pop-rock remains, in such a way that people are able to listen to 'the Biffy' from all walks of life - it's not something I disdain, I just feel like they've done the whole 'maturing' thing when they really didn't need to.

Anyway, enough of my personal opinions. On a more objective level, Only Revolutions provides something of a buffer from the old Biffy and provides people with an album that they can listen to without having to think that they're going to offend anyone in the room - there are no moments where I thought "I have to turn this down/off", there are just moments where it was good-natured, radio-friendly pop-rock...it's an album of hyphens, to be quite honest.

It's a far cry from the days of Jaggy Snake and I suppose, if it had to hark back to something, it's almost an album of Justboy-esque serenity. It's on a level where parents and children alike can feel like they're listening to music, and not listening to Simon Neil bashing out chords and tearing his voicebox apart.

However, it's not what I'd call a good album by previous Biffy standards. It's on a whole different plane, so it's unfair to say that it's not good; but, it's also unfair to say that it is good because it just slots into mediocrity. Personally, I'd tell you all that if you wanted to listen to Biffy Clyro to give this album a miss and go out and buy Infinity Land - turn it up, and enjoy the 'real' Biffy from a time when they didn't seem to care what people thought, and managed to produce music of a certain calibre that is actually hard to find today*.

Overall: 6/10 - It's pop. It's alright. It's nothing major. It just slots into that "rock" category that you find on the radio - Still, if you're not into all that thrashing about and being a tit, give this a go and you might at least pass yourself off as 'rock n roll'.

Top Track: That Golden Rule


*On a semi-related note, it seems the blame rests with Simon Neil, who, as a member of Marmaduke Duke, has also toned that band down immensely from their debut (and so far best) album. Shame.

The rise in the popularity of folk-based groups and artistes has really been quite disconcerting lately. I suppose it started when people began to pay attention to Neutral Milk Hotel, when they became tossed around by every pretentious hipster (myself included) who wanted to out-indie their mates; that led to people checking out other indie-folk groups, like The Decemberists, and opened the doors for up-and-coming British artists like Laura Marling, Noah and the Whale, and the subjects of this review: Mumford and Sons.

Hailing from the same school-of-music as the aforementioned Ms Marling and Noah and the Whale, Mumford and Sons, headed by Marcus Mumford and three other like-minded musicians, has stormed the battlements of Radio One's dance-orientated listeners and won over the general youth demographic in the UK. It's something to generally be proud of, but, something that would normally put me off an artist.

I looked into these guys when I was introduced to them by a friend, with their first single Little Lion Man, and I wasn't really impressed by it. It was just another Noah and the Whale; a one-hit wonder as far as I was concerned. They weren't going to stand out. I was proved wrong, however, when Winter Winds took to the airwaves and made me think that maybe I should give these guys the credit they were owed.

Sigh No More is their debut album, having been on the shelves for just over a month (at the time of writing). In short, it's got the feel of a more polished Neutral Milk Hotel, with a hint of Paolo Nutini's catchy hooks, and the overwhelmingly cheery folksy angle mainly seen in albums from Zach Condon (of Beirut fame).

From the outset, it draws the listener in, enveloping them in guitars, drums, banjos, trumpets; walls of folksy-pop professionalism, if such a thing can exist. While I don't see them as having any real draw aside from their mish-mash of visible influences, I could see them maybe becoming a group who would genuinely make it into my annual "Top 10", just because the album fails to bore - it has those nuances of 'timelessness' found only in true pop, where a song or some songs can be played incessantly without killing the 'wow factor' buried in them.

All I feel that its missing is perhaps a sense of originality. I can see that it's good, but, as I've already pointed out, it really reeks of Neutral Milk Hotel and Paolo Nutini - of ballsy folk that is unashamedly pop. It lacks what I'd call a 'sense of self'; it's just an emulation of something that couldn't be done in Aeroplane Over The Sea, by putting it through far too much of a 'studio process'.


Overall: 7/10 - A good pop album, but, for me, it's just rehashing the works and styles of others; it's really worth getting, but it just fails to make me think "This is originality right here".

Top Track: Winter Winds

Folk Punk has always been something of a borderline genre. Parents can enjoy certain parts of it, based on their old love of Gram Parsons or Nick Drake; and kids can enjoy the edgy lyrics and the pure vitriol that is pumped into each song. Frank Turner was once at the forefront of folk-punk, but, lately, he's fallen into the trap of playing up to his genre.

Beans on Toast, the amazing one-man busker-cum-politico act from London opened for the half-full room with his overtly political set. It was all about the economy and the end of the world-as-we-know-it, but with his usual emotionally-uncharged, 40-a-day voice. It runs through the room like Molasses being poured through a blender; a sound you could love, and, the longer it goes on the more you're drawn in. All in all, though, he's the epitome of British folk-punk; it's three chords, one melody, and a political message. Well-played.

Fake Problems hail from Florida. It's a long way to bring their music, but, over the course of hopping the pond, they don't seem to have hopped any fences that haven't been hopped before. I struggled to enjoy this act; I think it was because everything they played sounded remarkably like every other indie act already out there. It wasn't as if it was terrible because of that, it's just, if you're opening for a fairly original artiste, at least try to be fairly original yourselves.

The main event; Frank Turner was greeted by cheers that in my years of seeing him perform, I have never heard. It's a total change of pace. I first saw him perform at a tiny Weekender called Collision Course, and he won me over; from then, I've seen him every time he's performed in Clwb Ifor Bach without fail. And every time I've been impressed beyond. Tonight, for the first time, I wasn't as moved.

Objectively, my review would be along the lines of: "Frank Turner is an amazing artist in this day and age where everyone wants to sing about life and love, with songs with catchy hooks. Everyone wants an artist who whips up the crowd. And everyone wants a bit of Middle-England performing to them in a semi-ironic fashion. He's grown up, he's come out of his shell, and he's playing to bigger venues; he is the capitalist musician's wet dream - ten out of ten".

But, this is my site, and I'm not paid to do any of this by any sponsor or patron, so, I can be as subjective and bastard-ish as I like. So, here goes:

Frank Turner is an amazing artist in this day and age, or, at least he was. He used to be all about the dream; all about the floors and the punk ethic, and everything that made him seem gritty and like a true riding-the-rails folk hero a la Johnny Cash. Instead, he's now one of those guys who plays to audiences who only know the singles rather than the albums; he's one of those guys whose front row was full of folks who loved the new singles, but didn't know anything much prior to the new album.

That's my main gripe. Yes, good for him for reaching such stardom. Good for him for moving up the ladder. Good for him. But, at least his fans could be half decent and if they truly 'loved' him as much as the older fans amongst us who have been coming for years; those who have been coming since he started playing acoustically; those who have been following since the Million Dead or Kneejerk days...

That's what ruined the night. I've gone to his gigs before, and the room has been a non-stop sing-a-long with everyone enjoying; with everyone on the same page. In this gig, there were periods of silence, and periods of blank faces. When 'Smiling at Strangers on Trains' was being played, the front row must have thought he was covering some punk band, and not playing his own, old, Million Dead material. I would internet-sigh if I wasn't just moaning out of my own pretentiousness.

I'll quit my moaning, and get to the score so you may all have your lives back:

Objectively - 8/10
Subjectively - 5/10

John Darnielle doesn't exactly spring to mind when we think of folk music. He doesn't exactly come to mind when we think of modern pop either; and yet the Mountain Goats are one of folk and pop's best kept secrets, whilst being one of the "hippest" bands to enjoy. With a career almost spanning 20 years, they have released a fair few albums meaning there will be no talk of "the curse of the third album" here; we're talking 17 studio albums in almost as many years. Let us dive in to The Life of the World to Come.

When I listen to something I like, I smile. When I listen to things I don't like, I usually switch them off and then write a scathing review about them in as many repetitive paragraphs about their worst features as I can find. The Mountain Goats actually made me smile ear to ear with their biblically-named songs. It's effectively how the Bible should have been written; I'd actually not be an agnostic if the Lord (whoever s/he may be) said "You know what. John Darnielle is writing the Holy Text of this religion".

It's not necessarily the most exciting album I've ever listened to, but, it's soothing. Under all the pomp and circumstance of naming your songs after verses of the bible, there's a sense of humility; of an actual sentimentality running through each song. But (and I'll even use a conjunction to start a sentence), that's what I expect from them; The Sunset Tree and the ever popular Pinklon, have gone on to prove that to me.

What's wrong with the album is that it's too good. I don't mean it's good in the 'polished' way, I mean, that not only is it good to begin with, but that it grows on you. If you're not singing 1 Samuel 15:23 by the time you're at your third listen, then you really don't like this album guys and gals. I suppose, like all albums, it can fade into mediocrity in the background after the first 5 or 6 songs. But, when it also seems to go on a downward spiral, emotionally, to the minor key of Ezekiel 7 and the Permanent Efficacy of Grace, it's no surprise that the latter half of the album pales in comparison to the up-tempo first half.

No surprises here. It's a good piece of work. It's worth a listen, at least.

Overall: 7/10 - I liked the start, a lot; but it just became deeper and darker, and eventually I just had to treat it as background music. However, it's a grower, so, in the end, you'll have your own choices of tracks which you connect with and/or enjoy.

Top Track: Psalms 40:2

To Whom It May Concern,

Tom Smith is a cunt.

Yours,
Alex.

Where do I begin with this album? Let's start with the cover art. It's been done. I have the sneaking suspicion that Editors are trying to revive the feel of late 70s and early 80s Post-Punk acts like Joy Division, Bauhaus and the New Romanticism of Duran Duran. It's not something that strikes me as innovative or thought provoking in this day and age; the cover actually looks like it should belong on the front of a dark Devo album; or maybe Marc and the Mambas previously released it. In short: while they seem to be revisiting the 80s, they're really just going by the handbook and not exploring off the beaten path.

Songwise, it's a lame duck. I've liked worse albums, to be fair; but, this one has all the aura of a now-dead-decade that's being brought back by all sorts of poncey, Indie Cindy groups like La Roux and Bloc Party. We don't need to rehash the old. We don't need another New Order, or the second coming of Peter Murphy. We need a new sound.

"New sound; this album is fresh off the presses," I hear you cry! "LIES!" I retort. You're not going to like this, but, Editors have basically become a forced New Order; a fairly crappy Devo. Where are the massive pianos; the all-encompassing sound of the underground is missing. I suppose, on the plus side, they can no longer be compared to Interpol. But, now the comparisons can be thrown at them thick and fast. They are no longer deserving of the crown they once held. No more shall I laud them. They've hit my radar of scepticism, and backed it up by saying "This is our third studio album" - welcome in The Curse ladies and gents.

5/10 - It might be a grower, but, for me, it's just half-assed synths that don't work with Tom's voice. I suppose one might even say that they've just lost it.

Top Track: Bricks and Mortar

France is always the first place to look for good lo-fi and electronica. The country has given us the wonders of haute-cuisine, two competing automotive companies, and a plethora of poptastic electro groups like Justice, Daft Punk, and Kavinsky. They all sound the same though, while Air are slightly different.

As their sixth studio album, Love 2 has little nuances crammed into it that make it just a little bit more than the average French electronica album; more than just another clone of the Daft Punk sound. Deep within its recesses are sounds that emanate and fizz, effervescently, inside your head. There is slight, ever so slight, discordance places; but, there is so much more than that.

Throughout the album, I knew I was listening to Air; though, not exactly the Air that brought us Sexy Boy. It was more like an Air that managed to morph its style, from a lo-fi-esque hum, to a Beck-esque performance. If you've ever picked up Beck's The Information, then, you'll get what I mean. It has all the qualities of a good album.

But, like all Air albums, its never been full of things to get you moving and grooving. It's like a Moby album; the songs are good in their own way, but, they don't get you feeling it. There are some, like Do The Joy, and Tropical Disease, that, in their own ways, made me bob my head like a Beatnik at a poetry recital, especially when the pan-pipes kicked in on the latter. For the most part though, every song sounds like it should have been on the Final Fantasy 8 soundtrack.

The only thing with this album that bugs me is that it's all peaks and troughs. It tends to happen a lot with Air, and similar bands (Moby, Beck, Menomena) where you get a good album, with some strong songs; but they're always interspersed with fairly lame, droning misery. Air have never really been the "pop-music for pop-music's sake" kind of band; and that shows in how they make each song speak for itself, not as a collective.

Confused? Take Daft Punk's seminal album: Discovery. It was one big concept, and it flowed. Take Justice's Cross. Again, it was conceptual and it flowed. Even Kavinsky's first EP flowed. With Love 2, it's more like jolts; peaks and troughs on the open ocean. You're along for the voyage, and the view is amazing; the sounds are also really good. But, you never know if the next wave is going to capsize your interests or not. All you can do with this album is pray that you can keep your head above water until some driftwood comes floating past to save you.

Overall: 6/10 - It's a good album. I cannot stress that enough. It's just not a collective feeling; it's more of a collection, of mini-albums.

Top Track: Tropical Disease

I've never actually considered Conor Oberst to be a folky kind of guy; neither have I thought that about M. Ward, or Mike Mogis. Even Jim James, of My Morning Jacket, is far from folk. But, still, it's just a name, right guys? Right? I'm going in with an open mind, mainly because I always get prejudiced around any of Oberst's non-Bright Eyes projects: Desaparecidos is probably the closest I've come to liking an Oberst side-project. So, on with the show!

Despite the dodgy cover-art which makes Mike Mogis look very much like "Tony Robinson as Baldrick" from Blackadder fame, Monsters of Folk, the album, not the band, has left me reeling. In a good way.

The opening track, "Dear God (M.O.F.)" made me question the name 'Monsters of Folk', because, it was total false advertising. Then, just as I was set on saying "Screw this. It's going to be terrible," everything changed. It was like listening to a certain supergroup which came around 20 years ago; in fact, the entirety of the M.O.F. trademark seems to mirror the way in which said late 80s supergroup was. I am, of course, referring to the Traveling Wilburys.

This album has all the elements of a half-decent folk release, but, throws in moments of pure country rock folly. I can't quite put my finger on it, but, it's probably the bonhomie of each of the members which is shining through, and which makes me feel at ease with this. It's like that one-off conversation shared with Mike Mogis at a Bright Eyes gig; it's something special.

Under the twang of the guitar, and the awkward, strained vocals of Oberst, lies a niggling feeling that this is all for show; that, this is just to give Oberst and Mogis some time off from the Bright Eyes label, and yet still put out something in the vein of Cassadaga, with that homely, Cracker Barrel soundtrack. There's honestly nothing more to this album than good old fashioned 'grits and biscuits' Folk. And that's why I like it.


Overall: 8/10 - It's a supergroup alright. It's also a super album. All it needs is Nick Cave talking over Man Named Truth, and I'd give it a 9.

Top Track: Baby Boomer

Let's get this out of the way: Back when I was a little mall-goth, with the greasy blue-black hair, the overly tight coat (which I still own and occasionally wear for the hell of it), and the eclectic taste in metal, I had the biggest crushes on three frontwomen. One was Brody Dalle of The Distillers; one was Christina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil; and the other was Angela Gossow of Arch Enemy.
Now that it's out in the open, I can safely say: "I'm going to try and give an unbiased view into the latest Arch Enemy album, The Root of All Evil"

The last Arch Enemy album I listened to was Doomsday Machine back in 2005. Four years on, and one album missed, and I'm getting some re-education in Arch Enemy thanks to The Root of All Evil. I could consider this to be a compilation album, but, I'll be nice and consider it as a new one. Why? Basically, for those not in the know, R.O.A.E doesn't actually feature any new material, technically...

The new album is actually a collection of reworked Arch Enemy songs from the pre-Angela years, back when Johan Liiva was on vocals. I'd not actually listened to any pre-Angela albums, so I could honestly not tell you whether it was good or not. The only difference I managed to pick out was that Johan's vocals were totally the opposite to Angela's. He tends to be more at the symphonic-death end of the scale; while she's way up at the growling banshee end of the scale.

So, what do I think?

I can't say it's brilliant because that would mean I'd be claiming that all Arch Enemy albums before 2000 were brilliant; but, I can say that it's good. It's exactly what the originals were like (when I went away and gave them a listen), but the vocals were sharper, more gutteral, more 'extreme'. The songs had been given the Spinal Tap treatment; they'd started at a 10, and by putting in Angela, they've been turned up to 11 and been given a whole new lease of life.

There really isn't much more to say about this. It's worth it if you're a die-hard fan, or a newcomer who wants to get into the older stuff in an easier way...but, it's nothing amazingly special. It's just a filler album between Rise of the Tyrant and whatever they actually start composing next.

Overall: 7/10 - A new lease of life for some old tracks, bridging the gap between the Liiva years and the decade of Gossow.

Top Track: Demonic Science

Some people think he's bonkers; he just thinks he's free. Honestly, is there anything crazy about him at all? I'm not quite sure. Since the Mercury Prize-winning success of Boy in da Corner, and his follow-ups Showtime and Maths + English, ol' Dizzee has been spending his time changing his image from the young prince of Grime to a hip, young popstar. Does he stand up to the test though?

Tongue'N'Cheek is Dizzee Rascal's fourth attempt at getting noticed by everyone in the world as the "next big thing". With the singles released from this one, he's managed to secure himself a position as one of the real 'popstars' of the decade. He may be hanging on to the tail-end of the 'noughties', but Bonkers and Dance Wiv Me were the real floor fillers of 2008 and 2009, so he got something right.

It's a shame that the rest of the album doesn't hold up to the pop brilliance of those songs. Even his latest single, Holiday, is a terrible attempt at trying to get things to swing in his favour. There are times when I'd like to enjoy the album though - Freaky Freaky is quite decent, and could probably have made it as a good single (if it wasn't nice and explicit).

The bit that gets me, though, is that despite his "selling out", Dizzee still puts out a few decent tunes, even if they are hidden on the album, never to see the light of day or to boost his pop career. He's nowhere near being a brilliant artiste, but, he's got some potential, if only he didn't try to ham it up to the pop world. I'd prefer to hear him playing with Ricky Rankin and The Bug with some real grime and dancehall artists, but, I suppose I can live with the tarnished gems that pop up like Freaky Freaky and Can't Tek No More.

It's far from brilliant, honestly, but he knows how to play the market - put the best pop out for the kids; keep the trash and the half-decent unreleasables on the album for the hardcore Dizzee fans.

Overall: 5/10 - I wasn't exactly sold. He's got his style, admittedly a changed one, but it's not in my agenda. It's decent, but, it's repetitive, and lacks the drive that he should have as a "household name".

Top Track: Freaky Freaky (but, for those who like their music SFW: Bonkers)

Despite the humorous font-related name, this band are far from a laugh-riot. The only time I've chuckled at the same amount of noise was when the fat guy ran into a car whilst riding a quad-bike on You've Been Framed (for American readers: read 'America's Funniest Home Videos'). Either way, let's put our not-prejudiced heads on, and get reviewing!

There's lo-fi, and then there's lazy. I think Times New Viking fall into the second category. What they manage to do, in the space of 'Lo-Fi' makes you wonder if they're doing anything at all. It's more a case of "We'll put out some music, eh?" "Sure" "What do you want to play?" "I don't know. I'm sooo apathetic" "Mary had a little lamb?" "APATHY!"

I have just suffered from an apathy overload. My shoulders are actually starting to slouch even more than normal; my eyes are drooping; and my brain is shutting down. This is infectious apathy. It's bordering on noise-rock, or maybe even noise-pop; but, even Lightning Bolt and the Mae Shi, or HEALTH do half-decent tunes when they noise-rock it up. This...this is just...indescribably poor.

It's rambling, shambling, and a poor excuse for the punk ethic. Even John Lydon actually tried to sing some form of melody when he opened his mouth, not mumble. I know the words are "God save the Queen! Her fascist regime!"...not "Argle bargle swee. Jumble mumble flee!" Even when Lightning Bolt sing through a sock, it sounds better than this. In fact, at this point, I'm considering putting on some Lightning Bolt just to make me feel like I've listened to something good.

I can't go on. It's the apathy. It's the music (or lack of it). It's not polished. It's not punk. It's just three kids in a garage with an 8-track and some instruments. Try again next time, guys and gals.

Overall: 2/10 - Punk ethic? Maybe. But even if Punk would vomit over the shoes of Times New Viking, it wouldn't make them any more respectable a band. Honestly: AVOID AVOID!