(Morning Star, Thursday 22 December 2005)
PANTO: The Marsh King's Daughter, The Byre Theatre, St Andrews
A HANS Christian Andersen story has all the magic that one could want from a festive performance and the Byre's nice line in magical Christmas theatre is well documented.
With two comical storks as narrators, there is silliness there from the start for the youngsters in the audience, but the darkness and depth of the tale is always close to the surface.
Billed as a legend, The Marsh King's Daughter is set in the wild moors of Scandinavia and the far-off shores of ancient Egypt.
An Egyptian princess is tricked by her jealous sisters and left for dead in the marshes.
She is taken in by the mythical Marsh King, to whom she bears a child, but the king allows the child to be given to a human family in return for the princess's continued residence with him.
Baby Helga is rescued by one of the kindly storks and taken to live with the Vikings, but she has a secret which leaves her turning into a toad every evening at sundown.
Raised as a young warrior by her Viking foster father, Helga's mother tries in vain to connect with her often quite brutal daughter. Only when Helga appears after dark in her other form does her mother see her as a loving and caring creature.
This Byre production, written by Stephen Wrentmore and Rita Henderson, is a sweet and touching tale and well acted by the cast, including newcomer Alex Tegear as the menacing Helga with many life changes to go through.
Geoff Hennessy and Justine Balmer bring their paper storks to life and invent a real relationship with the viewer, chatting about married couple concerns as naturally as any soap actor.
The music features some excellent Disney-style bombast, with Sion Lloyd giving a roaring performance as both Bodil the Viking and the Pharoah.
The only weak point seems to be Kristian, played by Simon Masterton. An actor with range and skill he may be, but, here, he comes across as uncomfortable and wooden, a situation only exacerbated when he and Helga take the stage alone, as his nerves seem to rub off on her.
A wonderful show as always from the Byre, it would be hard to say that any weaknesses mar the show, so infused with magic and sweet sentiment it is. A lesser-known story, but all the more special for it.
Thursday 22 December 2005
Monday 12 December 2005
Russian tycoon pays £6.8m for sporting estate in Scotland
(The Scotsman, 12 December 2005)
A RUSSIAN billionaire has bought a Scottish sporting estate for £6.8 million.
Vladimir Lisin, one of Russia's wealthiest oligarchs with an estimated fortune of £5.4 billion, has splashed out on the 3,300-acre Aberuchill Castle Estate, near Comrie in Perthshire, just days after it went on sale.
Lisin, 49, a steel tycoon, was so eager to have the 16th century property that he offered £800,000 over the asking price.
He is one of several Russian businessmen who made their fortunes during Russia's privatisation of state industry, and is said to be second in wealth only to Chelsea FC owner Roman Abramovich, an oil and gas businessman with £15.7 billion to his name.
However, unlike other oligarchs, Lisin retains a place in the favoured circle of Russian president Vladimir Putin.
As president of the Russian National Olympic Shooting Association, Lisin is likely to have chosen his new estate for its extensive recreational resources, as it offers grouse shooting, deer stalking and game fishing.
The price is the highest amount paid for a Scottish estate this year, but the popularity of such property is being put down to the relative low cost compared with similar land in the south-east of England.
Aberuchill has been described as the perfect Highland retreat, and offers five reception rooms, a billiards room and 13 bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms. There also are around twelve estate dwellings, a farm and 704 acres of forest.
John Coleman, of estate agents Knight Frank - which was not involved in the sale - said: "Ten years ago it was Hong Kong expats coming home. Then there were the Dutch, and now the Russians. There is always a group of new buyers coming in with more money, and that's great for investment for Scotland."
Scottish Land Registry documents show the sale was made by Aberuchill Limited, a company which lists Edward Thiele, an oil executive from Houston, Texas, among its directors.
Lisin made the purchase through Forestborne Limited, a company registered in the British Virgin Islands.
Russian company Novolipetsk, of which Lisin owns a 90 per cent share, is the country's biggest steelmaker, valued at £8.7 billion, and plans to sell shares on the London Stock Exchange for the first time this week, with an expected profit of more than £400 million.
As a married man with three children, Lisin is well known in business and shooting circles. His rags-to-riches story has seen him work his way up from a welder just 30 years ago, but he has kept his private life out of the spotlight.
Andrey Sidorov, Lisin's personal spokesman, said he could neither "confirm nor deny" the purchase of Aberuchill.
Gordon McCartney, chairman of Comrie Community Council, said: "There seems to be plenty of money being spent on the estate, but we haven't seen much of the new owner.
"All we see are black limousines with dark windows coming through the village."
Local councillor Colin Crabbie added: "Aberuchill has always been a bit of a mystery, but there have been a number of planning applications to do up houses on the estate.
"Hopefully that will be a good thing."
A RUSSIAN billionaire has bought a Scottish sporting estate for £6.8 million.
Vladimir Lisin, one of Russia's wealthiest oligarchs with an estimated fortune of £5.4 billion, has splashed out on the 3,300-acre Aberuchill Castle Estate, near Comrie in Perthshire, just days after it went on sale.
Lisin, 49, a steel tycoon, was so eager to have the 16th century property that he offered £800,000 over the asking price.
He is one of several Russian businessmen who made their fortunes during Russia's privatisation of state industry, and is said to be second in wealth only to Chelsea FC owner Roman Abramovich, an oil and gas businessman with £15.7 billion to his name.
However, unlike other oligarchs, Lisin retains a place in the favoured circle of Russian president Vladimir Putin.
As president of the Russian National Olympic Shooting Association, Lisin is likely to have chosen his new estate for its extensive recreational resources, as it offers grouse shooting, deer stalking and game fishing.
The price is the highest amount paid for a Scottish estate this year, but the popularity of such property is being put down to the relative low cost compared with similar land in the south-east of England.
Aberuchill has been described as the perfect Highland retreat, and offers five reception rooms, a billiards room and 13 bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms. There also are around twelve estate dwellings, a farm and 704 acres of forest.
John Coleman, of estate agents Knight Frank - which was not involved in the sale - said: "Ten years ago it was Hong Kong expats coming home. Then there were the Dutch, and now the Russians. There is always a group of new buyers coming in with more money, and that's great for investment for Scotland."
Scottish Land Registry documents show the sale was made by Aberuchill Limited, a company which lists Edward Thiele, an oil executive from Houston, Texas, among its directors.
Lisin made the purchase through Forestborne Limited, a company registered in the British Virgin Islands.
Russian company Novolipetsk, of which Lisin owns a 90 per cent share, is the country's biggest steelmaker, valued at £8.7 billion, and plans to sell shares on the London Stock Exchange for the first time this week, with an expected profit of more than £400 million.
As a married man with three children, Lisin is well known in business and shooting circles. His rags-to-riches story has seen him work his way up from a welder just 30 years ago, but he has kept his private life out of the spotlight.
Andrey Sidorov, Lisin's personal spokesman, said he could neither "confirm nor deny" the purchase of Aberuchill.
Gordon McCartney, chairman of Comrie Community Council, said: "There seems to be plenty of money being spent on the estate, but we haven't seen much of the new owner.
"All we see are black limousines with dark windows coming through the village."
Local councillor Colin Crabbie added: "Aberuchill has always been a bit of a mystery, but there have been a number of planning applications to do up houses on the estate.
"Hopefully that will be a good thing."
Saturday 12 November 2005
Pete Doherty's junkie joke?
(Morning Star, Saturday 12 November 2005)
ALBUM: Babyshambles - Down in Albion
(Rough Trade)
THE travelling circus of Pete Doherty and his band of merry men is something to behold. The true essence of punk, they thrash out their anthems for doomed youth with the passion and fervour of the hopeless and looking every bit the urchins.
Playing live, Babyshambles really are a sight - vivacious and thrilling - and the enjoyment of the crowd is evident.
But not so on record. The name "shambles" has never been more appropriate.
The band shuffle into the studio and make a few grunts into the mic, hoping that this constitutes a proper, grown-up album, but they didn't bet on one thing - the expectations for this, the new project from a founding member of one of Britain's most important bands of the last decade, are way too high for the boys to be able to get away with this kind of shiftless, amateur work.
The singles from Down in Albion, Fuck Forever and Killamangiro showcase the work of a much better band, one lurking just beneath the layers of apathy and self-absorption.
But, instead of fulfilling this early promise, this album reeks of "that'll do" and, between the dull The 32nd of December and tremendously tacky Pipedown - as in "put the pipe down" - Doherty's reggae ode to Pentonville prison is a desperate attempt to add credibility.
As the first recorded long-playing effort from Babyshambles, Down in Albion is nothing more than a junkie joke. And Doherty, inevitably, is the punchline.
Saturday 22 October 2005
A long way
(Morning Star, Saturday 22 October 2005)
ALBUM: Depeche Mode - Playing the Angel
(Mute)
THE ethereal world of Depeche Mode is an interesting place for sure.
Dave Gahan seems to think that he's some kind of messiah and is clearly delighted that he has had the honour of his own acquaintance.
The appearance of the word "angel" all over this record - their first in four years - lends credence to the fact that Gahan reckons that he's a wee bit spiritual - and as far as pomposity goes, it's clear that the Mode still have it in spades.
But, for a band who started out with a definitively 1980s electronic-cheese reputation, they've come a long way.
Their gothic electronica is once again "in" and their trademark dourness seems to compress the misery that many of us feel about modern life and hand it back to us on a platter.
The first half of Playing the Angel is packed with a raft of impressive would-be singles, including the wonderful opener A Pain that I'm Used To and The Sinner in Me, while single Precious attempts the lyrically unthinkable - rhyming damaged with manage - but makes it all work regardless.
Although the tunes drop off noticeably in the second half, the intensity is still there and it rings as true as on any of the band's previous best work.
Depeche Mode had better watch out, they're approaching their 20th release and they've never sounded so fashionable.
Monday 17 October 2005
I'll go to jail... But not Iraq
(The Sun, 17 October, 2005)
Court martial for RAF ace
A Scots RAF officer faces being jailed for refusing to return to Iraq because he believes that the war there is illegal.
Flight Lieutenant Malcolm Kendall-Smith is to become the first British office court-martialled for refusing to serve in the conflict.
Proceedings against the highly-decorated officer for 'refusing to obey a lawful command' are due to begin this year.
Last night a pal of the 37-year-old unit medical officer for RAF Kinloss in Merseyside revealed, "He takes the view this is worth going to prison for."
Spirit
The friend added, "Malcolm joined the RAF out of a spirit of idealism. It was good old Battle of Britain stuff - helping the good guys fight the fascists.
"When he first went to the Gulf in 2003, his awareness of the legal position was far less than it is now. He is now ion no doubt that the war is illegal."
Kendall-Smith - decorated for two previous tours in Iraq - was suspended on full pay of around £40,000 a year after being quizzed by Royal Military Police in June. He was charged on October 5.
The defence case Kendall-Smith is putting together is set to hinge on the RAF law that a serving officer is justified in refusing to obey a command if it is illegal.
Lawyers will argue his commission requires him to act under 'the rules and discipline of war'.
International experts insist that there was no legal backing for the invasion of Iraq, launched before the United Nations passed a second resolution approving force.
Under military rules, Kendall-Smith cannot comment.
His lawyer, Justin Hugheston-Roberts, said, "This is the first case of its kind involving Iraq."
The Ministry of Defence confirmed, "An RAF officer is due to appear before a general court martial."
Court martial for RAF ace
A Scots RAF officer faces being jailed for refusing to return to Iraq because he believes that the war there is illegal.
Flight Lieutenant Malcolm Kendall-Smith is to become the first British office court-martialled for refusing to serve in the conflict.
Proceedings against the highly-decorated officer for 'refusing to obey a lawful command' are due to begin this year.
Last night a pal of the 37-year-old unit medical officer for RAF Kinloss in Merseyside revealed, "He takes the view this is worth going to prison for."
Spirit
The friend added, "Malcolm joined the RAF out of a spirit of idealism. It was good old Battle of Britain stuff - helping the good guys fight the fascists.
"When he first went to the Gulf in 2003, his awareness of the legal position was far less than it is now. He is now ion no doubt that the war is illegal."
Kendall-Smith - decorated for two previous tours in Iraq - was suspended on full pay of around £40,000 a year after being quizzed by Royal Military Police in June. He was charged on October 5.
The defence case Kendall-Smith is putting together is set to hinge on the RAF law that a serving officer is justified in refusing to obey a command if it is illegal.
Lawyers will argue his commission requires him to act under 'the rules and discipline of war'.
International experts insist that there was no legal backing for the invasion of Iraq, launched before the United Nations passed a second resolution approving force.
Under military rules, Kendall-Smith cannot comment.
His lawyer, Justin Hugheston-Roberts, said, "This is the first case of its kind involving Iraq."
The Ministry of Defence confirmed, "An RAF officer is due to appear before a general court martial."
Saturday 15 October 2005
Franz's plan
(Morning Star, Saturday 15 October 2005)
ALBUM: Franz Ferdinand - You Could Have It So Much Better
(Domino)
UNIQUE music is a rarity these days.
Everyone sounds like everyone else, blurring genre barriers and baffling music fans until there's no way to tell who's the rocker-turned-rapper and who's the pop star-turned-chanteuse.
Franz Ferdinand are hardly unique in history - their jagged guitar stabs and skinny ties owe more than a little to the new wave bands of the 1970s - but, in the here and now, they're one in a million.
First single Do You Want To - sounding unfeasibly like Don't Bring Me Down by ELO - recycles the winning formula of Take Me Out, welding two different songs together, but it works to bring listeners with them through an album that's much heavier and certainly more adventurous than their 2004 debut.
The noisy cartoon swagger of This Boy shows that Franz have balls aplenty, while slower tracks such as Eleanor Put Your Boots On are not out of place either. The standout has to be Evil and a Heathen, an unapologetically punchy blast of pure punk.
It seemed as if Franz Ferdinand's trick was to capture the zeitgeist. By adopting an angular Krautrock style when guitar music as a whole was moving in just that direction.
But the more you listen to this, the more it seems that Franz themselves set the template all along - and we are just their slavish style servants.
Saturday 1 October 2005
Doherty washes off tabloid dirt
(Morning Star, Saturday 01 October 2005)
LIVE: Babyshambles, Fat Sam's, Dundee
THE circus of Pete Doherty rumbles on. Even people who don't care about him, his missus or the drugs are bombarded with it every second from every angle.
The packed crowd in Fat Sam's would be easy to put down to that media saturation and people are certainly animated before the band come on, presumably because they want to be ready to dodge the Doherty vomit, although many from the previous night's gig in Aberdeen were not so agile.
So the band come on. It's not the second coming and there isn't an aura emanating from this skinny young whippersnapper in a striped jumper. Quite the opposite, as, with his hair plastered with sweat to his pasty brow, Doherty looks, for all the world, like a centre half in a junior school six-a-side.
Opening with Do You Know Me? his demeanour seems defiant. He sings: "I don't think so" in response to the titular question, determined to perform the music that he loves and journos be damned.
The idea that the crowd are just morbidly fascinated with the tabloid tale is quickly dismissed, as voices raise all around to join the singer in a raft of rocky, as yet unreleased material.
The fans start up with the well-known "ooohh ooohh ooohh," before the band launch into Killamangiro, but, shortly afterwards, a power cut stops the music short.
Gradually coming back in with bassist Drew McConnell pounding out the Rapper's Delight bassline is genius and the audience, predictably, love it.
That's probably the biggest shock. As this thin, shaggy-haired youth spins around onstage, hitting himself on the head with the microphone, the band actually seem much more together than their last gig in Dundee a mere 12 months ago.
The songs are tight, the crowd go mad for recent single Fuck Forever and there is a genuine mutual affection bubbling under all the raucousness.
Earlier in the day, Doherty told an interviewer: "It's exciting to be doing at last the thing we do best, well, the only thing we do really, which is play our tunes."
A quote which sounds for all the world like rock star rhetoric turns out to be truer than 100 tabloid column inches.
Babyshambles are a confirmed musical success and that's before they've even released their first record.
LIVE: Babyshambles, Fat Sam's, Dundee
THE circus of Pete Doherty rumbles on. Even people who don't care about him, his missus or the drugs are bombarded with it every second from every angle.
The packed crowd in Fat Sam's would be easy to put down to that media saturation and people are certainly animated before the band come on, presumably because they want to be ready to dodge the Doherty vomit, although many from the previous night's gig in Aberdeen were not so agile.
So the band come on. It's not the second coming and there isn't an aura emanating from this skinny young whippersnapper in a striped jumper. Quite the opposite, as, with his hair plastered with sweat to his pasty brow, Doherty looks, for all the world, like a centre half in a junior school six-a-side.
Opening with Do You Know Me? his demeanour seems defiant. He sings: "I don't think so" in response to the titular question, determined to perform the music that he loves and journos be damned.
The idea that the crowd are just morbidly fascinated with the tabloid tale is quickly dismissed, as voices raise all around to join the singer in a raft of rocky, as yet unreleased material.
The fans start up with the well-known "ooohh ooohh ooohh," before the band launch into Killamangiro, but, shortly afterwards, a power cut stops the music short.
Gradually coming back in with bassist Drew McConnell pounding out the Rapper's Delight bassline is genius and the audience, predictably, love it.
That's probably the biggest shock. As this thin, shaggy-haired youth spins around onstage, hitting himself on the head with the microphone, the band actually seem much more together than their last gig in Dundee a mere 12 months ago.
The songs are tight, the crowd go mad for recent single Fuck Forever and there is a genuine mutual affection bubbling under all the raucousness.
Earlier in the day, Doherty told an interviewer: "It's exciting to be doing at last the thing we do best, well, the only thing we do really, which is play our tunes."
A quote which sounds for all the world like rock star rhetoric turns out to be truer than 100 tabloid column inches.
Babyshambles are a confirmed musical success and that's before they've even released their first record.
Saturday 24 September 2005
Misty's big bang
(Morning Star, Saturday 24 September 2005)
Interview: GRANDMASTER GARETH of Misty's Big Adventure talks to KIRSTIE MAY about life in Birmingham's most eccentric band.
Misty's Big Adventure are a band apart from the herd. Hailing from Birmingham, the nine-piece multi-instrumental outfit are something approaching a religion for their fans, crazed swathes of whom have been packing out the shows on Misty's latest tour across Britain.
But it wasn't always this hectic. In the beginning, there was only Grandmaster Gareth - and his was the word.
"It started as three of us when we were 15, in 1996. The songwriting's always been a friendly dictatorship," Gareth smiles.
"When you've got a lot of people in a band, if everyone was writing and contributing, it would just be a mess. You need someone to cement it all together."
And who better to keep the whole unruly batch in check than the man with the plan?
"We got to nine members. We have an occasional DJ, but he has a baby, so there's an eight-piece band that does the regular tour.
"Everyone has their own input as I write, thinking of how they'd play it and their style of playing and what kind of music they're into because obviously everyone has their own individual tastes."
Now that the band's second album The Black Hole has hit the shops, Gareth's messianic routine is gaining momentum.
But, if this is their first proper record documenting life in King's Heath, will that make their next work the archetypally difficult second album?
"No, I try to work an album ahead, so I'm on the third album at the moment," he laughs.
With the band spending so much of their formative years steeped in the Birmingham scene, they have, inevitably, adopted some local heroes from the Midlands.
"We don't get to see as much as I'd like nowadays as we're often off on tour, but I still get to see some. Pram are my favourite. There's an amazing one-man band spectacular called Bom and his Magic Drumstick.
"He's very political but very surreal at the same time and he's a spectacle to be seen."
And a spectacle is precisely what Misty's are to their converts, with reviews from their past raving about them being "an utterly eccentric dollop of smile-inducing fun." So, naturally, the musical support of such an inventive lot would have to be pretty special. Any stand-out mentions?
"My favourite's been Jeff Lewis. He's from New York, he's a comic book artist but he's also involved in a genre called anti-folk," Gareth enthuses, referring to a style of music that's been popularised by ex-Moldy Peach Adam Green.
But Gareth's in no doubt as to the real star of the scene.
"In my opinion, Jeff's a better Adam Green. His lyrics are totally amazing, he's the best lyricist around, really."
So who else pads out his listening pleasures? "Locally, we met up with the Retro Spankies from Northampton - they've been supporting us on a few dates. They're just fun, they couldn't be more fun," he gushes.
"My influences are pretty much all over the shop. My taste goes right back. I like 1930s jazz, there's a lot of jazz that I listen to, a lot of '60s guitar pop and weird psychedelic music and then there's hip hop, so it is just a hotch potch of stuff."
A pick'n'mix indeed - but these figures pale into insignificance when talk turns to Gareth's true musical icon.
"I'd love to work with Julian Cope, because I got into him when I was about 10 and I've been a fan ever since."
Can Gareth report any response to these professional advances?
"I did actually meet him last year. I got to have a cup of tea with him, so that was really cool.
"But I haven't broached the subject of collaboration with him. I'm gonna send him the album and see if he likes it."
With such eclectic tastes, will Misty's ever be able to play in rock's big league? Could they ever tour with someone really boring, like Coldplay?
"Maybe if the rider was good." Couple of beers and you're anyone's?
"Well, more like a sausage sandwich," he corrects with a grin.
"The food more than the drink, probably."
Misty's Big Adventure may give the rock'n'roll lifestyle a miss, but, with their Cope fan worship and oversubscribed tourbus, they're truly one of a kind.
Monday 5 September 2005
George & Jane's anti-war crusade
(The Mirror, 5 September 2005)
HOLLYWOOD legend Jane Fonda is to join Scots MP George Galloway on an anti-war tour of the US.
The 67-year-old actress had been planning her own campaign against the ...
HOLLYWOOD legend Jane Fonda is to join Scots MP George Galloway on an anti-war tour of the US.
The 67-year-old actress had been planning her own campaign against the ...
Saturday 3 September 2005
Introducing...
(Morning Star, Saturday 03 September 2005)
IN PROFILE: Trashcan Sinatras
IT APPEARS as if the tide has turned for the regions in Britain.
No more does the average newsreader, presenter or radio personality have to use the clipped tones of RP - meaning that, on the one hand, we have to put up with the annoyance of Lynda Barker and Vernon Kaye polluting the airwaves but also that bands from the provinces get to truly unmask themselves in all their glory, to commit to their territorial vagaries and make their stamp their own way.
For all of which evolution the Trashcan Sinatras must be thankful, as their innate Scottishness makes this Glasgow quintet one of the most engaging, genuine bands around.
In their voices, in their inventiveness and in their hearts, they carry the love of Caledonia around the world with them - and, specifically, as with new album Fez, to New York.
Fez is made up of songs from previous albums, all recorded over two nights last December in the Fez Club while on an acoustic tour of the US.
The songs that were originally electric have not lost anything - quite the opposite.
The gentle acoustic sound gives the Trashcans a warmer, more intense feel and seems somehow imbibed with the very spirit of Christmas.
Sublime representations of tracks like Weightlifting and Got Carried Away show a band who have grown comfortable with their sound over more than a decade performing together.
This richness of experience and their gently winsome nature combine to make a live album for everyone, full to bursting with Scottish sparkle and guilelessness.
IN PROFILE: Trashcan Sinatras
IT APPEARS as if the tide has turned for the regions in Britain.
No more does the average newsreader, presenter or radio personality have to use the clipped tones of RP - meaning that, on the one hand, we have to put up with the annoyance of Lynda Barker and Vernon Kaye polluting the airwaves but also that bands from the provinces get to truly unmask themselves in all their glory, to commit to their territorial vagaries and make their stamp their own way.
For all of which evolution the Trashcan Sinatras must be thankful, as their innate Scottishness makes this Glasgow quintet one of the most engaging, genuine bands around.
In their voices, in their inventiveness and in their hearts, they carry the love of Caledonia around the world with them - and, specifically, as with new album Fez, to New York.
Fez is made up of songs from previous albums, all recorded over two nights last December in the Fez Club while on an acoustic tour of the US.
The songs that were originally electric have not lost anything - quite the opposite.
The gentle acoustic sound gives the Trashcans a warmer, more intense feel and seems somehow imbibed with the very spirit of Christmas.
Sublime representations of tracks like Weightlifting and Got Carried Away show a band who have grown comfortable with their sound over more than a decade performing together.
This richness of experience and their gently winsome nature combine to make a live album for everyone, full to bursting with Scottish sparkle and guilelessness.
Saturday 27 August 2005
Leeds trio flops at the Fringe
(Morning Star, Saturday 27 August 2005)
LIVE: The Cribs, Liquid Rooms, Edinburgh
THE problem with going to any show at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is that expectations are always high.
Even though an inordinate percentage of shows will see you sitting in a hall with two other people watching a Jimmy Carr wannabe, cringing through his set of bad jokes and wondering if you'll inadvertently become part of the act if you stand up to leave, there are times when the talent is so rich and vibrant that it doesn't matter if there are four other people or 404 - the good time is had by all.
The Cribs are a trio from Leeds with a nice line in hype and a disappointing quantity of tunes.
The main point of their current live shows is obviously to flog copies of their recently released debut album, The New Fellas.
After all, you don't know a band's mettle until you've seen them live and there are plenty of punters with hard-earned cash burning a hole in their pockets, eager to have something to cling to.
All of this is a rather unwieldy preamble to the disappointment of the Cribs' live show.
If the idea of a successful Fringe is quality, the Cribs don't stand a chance.
They're sloppy, tuneless and their childlike enthusiasm only makes it worse - like they think that they're really getting it. They're not.
There may be people in the crowd who will invest in The Cribs' recorded material off the back of this show, but, really, they should know better.
LIVE: The Cribs, Liquid Rooms, Edinburgh
THE problem with going to any show at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is that expectations are always high.
Even though an inordinate percentage of shows will see you sitting in a hall with two other people watching a Jimmy Carr wannabe, cringing through his set of bad jokes and wondering if you'll inadvertently become part of the act if you stand up to leave, there are times when the talent is so rich and vibrant that it doesn't matter if there are four other people or 404 - the good time is had by all.
The Cribs are a trio from Leeds with a nice line in hype and a disappointing quantity of tunes.
The main point of their current live shows is obviously to flog copies of their recently released debut album, The New Fellas.
After all, you don't know a band's mettle until you've seen them live and there are plenty of punters with hard-earned cash burning a hole in their pockets, eager to have something to cling to.
All of this is a rather unwieldy preamble to the disappointment of the Cribs' live show.
If the idea of a successful Fringe is quality, the Cribs don't stand a chance.
They're sloppy, tuneless and their childlike enthusiasm only makes it worse - like they think that they're really getting it. They're not.
There may be people in the crowd who will invest in The Cribs' recorded material off the back of this show, but, really, they should know better.
Saturday 16 July 2005
Real sound of Scouse
(Morning Star, Saturday 16 July 2005)
ALBUM: The Stands - Horse Fabulous
(Echo)
FROM Scouse dream-pop via Chicago blues, The Stands' Howie Payne is guilty of wearing his influences on his sleeve.
The band's debut All Years Leaving was a shining light, sadly lost in the "shroom wave" of 2004, so this eclectic record is here to make reparations.
Produced by Tom Rothrock - famous for his work with Beck and the Foos, among others - this record has added a soulful maturity to the tunes that Howie's own production on the first album seemed to lack.
Being overlooked in favour of fellow Liverpool bands The Zutons and The Coral - in a strangely limitless "scene" that the music press was all too ready to fling together - seems to have made The Stands all the better.
Gentle album opener Turn The World Around eases the listener into a warm, welcoming realm of dreams and childhood aspirations. .
I Will Journey Home soars with haunting harmonies and When The Night Falls In is tender and sweet. The highlight has to be first single Do It Like You Like, which does sound slightly like it's found its way onto the wrong album. It rocks a glam stomp and takes a risk - but it pays off and makes The Stands sound stronger.
Horse Fabulous is the latest in the tradition of great pop records but the Liverpool "scene" is not what defines it as such - The Stands are.
Wednesday 13 July 2005
Cup of delight
(Morning Star, Wednesday 13 July 2005)
FESTIVAL: T in the Park
Kinross
KIRSTIE MAY has no complaints about an enthralling festival that is blessed with sunshine - except for the odd spot of arrogance.
ANOTHER year, another scorching hot cup of T in Kinross. In stark contrast to the south's rain-sodden Glastonbury, the sun shone down on 70,000 punters in rural Scotland, as the great and the good of modern music gathered to impress.
As was clear at King Tut's Tent, Suzanne Vega has more talent evident in one song than many of this weekend's acts have in their entire back catalogue.
Vega's sincerity and intelligence shines through to the delight of her crowd. High points are Luca, her understated tale of domestic violence and classic closer Tom's Diner, after which the audience leaves forever changed.
'Razorlight are a major draw but singer Johnny Borrell is the very lowest form of rocker.'
The Main Stage will have seen some overblown rock cocks-of-the-walk in its time and here's another - Chris Cornell, former Soundgarden frontman and now the voice of sludgy rockers Audioslave, previously known as those guys from Rage Against The Machine.
In a set that is largely devoid of sentiment and smarts, the band, at least, pay respects to former glories, Cornell rolling the refrain from Black Hole Sun around briefly and closing with RATM's Killing in the Name Of.
A change of crowd, greets Britpop's renaissance men Embrace. Starting with the recent Ashes and pulling in the Chris Martin-penned Gravity and oldie Come Back to What You Know, the Macnamara brothers' live set seems characterised by a slight smugness - perhaps as a "fuck you" to the wise-arse record company exec who dumped them from their label three years ago.
And smug they have every right to be, whereas their Main Stage successors The Killers exude self-satisfaction for no discernible reason.
The songs that Brandon Flowers's crew bring with them from Vegas are accomplished, starting out with tale of murderous youth Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine and ending on anthemic All These Things I've Done.
But their attitude - "we're the all-conquering Yanks" - is less than deserved, given their relative newcomer status. Time and that difficult second album will tell if the Hot Fuss is all hot air.
Over on the NME Stage, Mike Skinner's Streets give the chavs something to talk about. But the feeling that we're left with is that it's the last day of summer term and the unhinged PE teacher is covering the final lesson of the day.
Brendan Benson, however, lights up the X Tent. Now better known for his own work than his collaborations with Jack White, the singer/guitarist kept the crowd warmed up, despite a mid-set lights out.
Main Stage headliners the Foo Fighters own T in The Park Saturday from the second that they come on to In Your Honour. A refreshing mix of all-out rocking and laid-back cheeriness gives Dave Grohl the edge and leaves enough room for drummer Taylor Hawkins to front on Cold Day In The Sun. They round off with a triumphant Breakout.
That Nine Black Alps are allowed to bring their nihilistic Nirvana cast-offs to T on Sunday can only mean one thing - quality control on the Radio One/NME is at a low. Luckily, Eagles of Death Metal are at hand to administer the sweet rock and Josh Homme makes a winning bid for frontman of the weekend with his colourful banter.
Razorlight on the Main Stage are a major draw indeed. But singer Johnny Borrell is the very lowest form of rocker, believing that, by sheer dint of his being onstage, he has the right to spout all the crass old rock 'n' roll cliches. Grow up, Johnny.
'The Tears have all the charm of their former incarnations and none of the pomposity.'
Cliches abound, too, with the arrival of Snoop Dogg but they are more of the bling 'n' bitches variety. His run-through of Pharrell Williams and Justin Timberlake collaborations just shows how little he offers in the way of original craft. But the pantomime onstage is worth the earache, with an entourage comprising burly security men and short-skirted honeys.
Another frontman preoccupied with the female of the species is Queens of the Stone Age's Josh Homme, back for more on the Main Stage and displaying all the hallmarks of the cocky rock star - including weaving Here Comes the Sun into an otherwise characteristically menacing No One Knows.
If Homme is a great rock frontman, then surely the greatest of all indie frontmen is Echo and the Bunnymen's Ian McCulloch, his staggering outsider chic hardly diminished by the passing of time.
The humour and class that the Scouser brings to King Tut's is invaluable. From the career-defining Killing Moon - to late 1990s rebirth Nothing Lasts Forever, which neatly segues into Walk On The Wild Side for an amusing and oddly touching aside, Echo deliver a set that thrills and chills in equal measure.
Interpol, New York's own Echo for the 2000s, are a pleasant if derivative follow-up, while Hayseed Dixie wow an overspilling crowd at the new-for-2005 Futures Stage with their trademark banjo AC/DC music. Their Highway To Hell is a perverse treat and the Duelling Banjos finale is an inspired choice, not least because the sound of the mimics resounds round the site for the remainder of the day.
While the Main Stage hosts Green Day and old timers The Prodigy haul their tired act over the Radio One/NME Stage, the X Tent sees magic unfolding. The Tears have risen phoenix-like from Suede's ashes and, like Doctor Who, they've got all of the charm and guile of their former incarnations - but none of the pomposity.
Weaving a spell over the small but riveted crowd, the all-new Brett 'n' Bernard show is a fitting end to one of the most enthralling T in the Parks to date.
Saturday 9 July 2005
Loving what you've paid up for
(Morning Star, Saturday 09 July 2005)
LIVE: Dundee Blues Bonanza, various venues, Dundee
THE best thing about free music festivals is that, no matter how bad the performers are, a punter will never go home feeling cheated - and if they're good, no-one would have minded paying anyway.
So paying up must have been far from the minds of hundreds of music fans on the way home from Hyde Park last Saturday after seeing Madonna and Robbie Williams haul their tired carcasses across the stage at Live 8. A few hundred miles north, the cause wasn't as worthy but the entertainment was a vast improvement.
At the eleventh Dundee Blues Bonanza, over 130 bands played in 32 venues across the city. If you could crowbar yourself into any one of those venues, there was a treat in store.
Well, not just any venue. First up, in the Nether Inn was Little Miss Debby, Glasgow's answer to, um, Lulu. She offered a frankly terrifying take on a handful of soul standards - including The Spencer Davis Group's Gimme Some Lovin' - and a raucous vocal that was more given to rock than blues.
The Globe played host to the Dukes of Hazard, a band that is devoted to Snow Patrol and Pearl Jam in equal measure but who are none the worse for it.
Followers the Blue Devils were the first whiff all day of actual blues, complete with mouth organ, while a delighted crowd at the Doghouse enjoyed Gary Miller's rockabilly old school.
Bar Rio played host to the gem of the weekend, Mojo Rising. The name is a mistake but the female vocals are a Mary Chapin Carpenter-tinged dream. Popl Nero wound up the evening with Bottleneckers, a group of young whippersnappers clearly committed to bluesing up Dundee. Definitely worth anyone's hard-earned cash.
LIVE: Dundee Blues Bonanza, various venues, Dundee
THE best thing about free music festivals is that, no matter how bad the performers are, a punter will never go home feeling cheated - and if they're good, no-one would have minded paying anyway.
So paying up must have been far from the minds of hundreds of music fans on the way home from Hyde Park last Saturday after seeing Madonna and Robbie Williams haul their tired carcasses across the stage at Live 8. A few hundred miles north, the cause wasn't as worthy but the entertainment was a vast improvement.
At the eleventh Dundee Blues Bonanza, over 130 bands played in 32 venues across the city. If you could crowbar yourself into any one of those venues, there was a treat in store.
Well, not just any venue. First up, in the Nether Inn was Little Miss Debby, Glasgow's answer to, um, Lulu. She offered a frankly terrifying take on a handful of soul standards - including The Spencer Davis Group's Gimme Some Lovin' - and a raucous vocal that was more given to rock than blues.
The Globe played host to the Dukes of Hazard, a band that is devoted to Snow Patrol and Pearl Jam in equal measure but who are none the worse for it.
Followers the Blue Devils were the first whiff all day of actual blues, complete with mouth organ, while a delighted crowd at the Doghouse enjoyed Gary Miller's rockabilly old school.
Bar Rio played host to the gem of the weekend, Mojo Rising. The name is a mistake but the female vocals are a Mary Chapin Carpenter-tinged dream. Popl Nero wound up the evening with Bottleneckers, a group of young whippersnappers clearly committed to bluesing up Dundee. Definitely worth anyone's hard-earned cash.
Best say never
(Morning Star, Saturday 09 July 2005)
ALBUM: Backstreet Boys - Never Gone
(Jive)
AND so it is, with an album title that sounds more like a threat than a promise, that the good work of the last almost five years has instantaneously been undone.
Backstreet's back and little more than a limp-wristed cash-in for the world's formerly biggest boy band it is too.
Hit singles here are thin on the ground, a shame indeed after such pan-global chart toppers as I Want It That Way.
Age has made the boys into apparently lumpen men - and men who are intent on weighing down the chart with more mid-tempo dirges like first single Incomplete.
Never Gone? With records like this, never say never.
Unwise return
(Morning Star, Saturday 09 July 2005)
Omarion - O
(Sony)
ONLY in today's stack 'em high, sell 'em cheap cluttered world of urban music can an artist be said to be launching a "comeback" at the tender age of 20.
But Omarion has "mercifully" returned and this album is a long-awaited treat for fans of his feted but now defunct band of teen idols, B2K.
If they passed you by, don't worry - Omarion's rather helpfully stuck to their well-worn template of chart R&B. It's all cheesily insipid beats and inappropriately steamy odes to lust, as typified by debut single O.
Well-worn, but, nonetheless irrelevant. It'll be flying off the shelves in HMV but don't you make the mistake of picking up a copy.
Omarion - O
(Sony)
ONLY in today's stack 'em high, sell 'em cheap cluttered world of urban music can an artist be said to be launching a "comeback" at the tender age of 20.
But Omarion has "mercifully" returned and this album is a long-awaited treat for fans of his feted but now defunct band of teen idols, B2K.
If they passed you by, don't worry - Omarion's rather helpfully stuck to their well-worn template of chart R&B. It's all cheesily insipid beats and inappropriately steamy odes to lust, as typified by debut single O.
Well-worn, but, nonetheless irrelevant. It'll be flying off the shelves in HMV but don't you make the mistake of picking up a copy.
Saturday 2 July 2005
Devil's music
(Morning Star, Saturday 02 July 2005)
ALBUM: The White Stripes - Get Behind Me Satan
(XL)
EVERYONE'S sick and tired of the sister-brother-husband-wife conundrum.
Now's the time for the music to speak for itself.
This, Jack and Meg White's fifth album, is a testament to the wonder of their magical, harmonious world.
With influences from Led Zepplin to bluegrass, there's not much that daunts the duo, which is as it should be.
My Doorbell (When You Gonna Ring It) is a bold highlight and also of note is the plaintive Forever For Her (Is Over For Me) and paean to fan worship and Rita Hayworth, Take Take Take.
Satan's definitely got the best tunes.
Saturday 25 June 2005
Pop with attitude
(Morning Star, Saturday 25 June 2005)
LIVE: REM, Balloch Castle Country Park
KIRSTIE MAY catches a snapshop of REM's glorious pop career at an impressive gig in the leafy surrounds of Balloch Castle.
The view of majestic Loch Lomond, the leafy grounds of Balloch Castle, the still summer air - none of this eases the pain of being surrounded by thousands of braying, drunken Scotsmen.
By late afternoon, the stage has already played host to Ambulance Ltd and Aberfeldy, but it's with Liverpool's The Zutons that the onstage festivities really begin.
The Scouse saxophonic septet truly enjoy themselves, but, in the crowd, there are the same listless faces, continuing through Feeder, officially rock's best support act.
The trio give thanks for the honour of playing with practically every other band here today and at the next week's Live 8 concert and probably in your back garden if such a thing came to pass.
Straight-faced Grant Nicholas is hardly inspirational, but the sight of the floppy-fringed frontman waving a Scottish Saltire flag - a St Andrews cross to you Sassenachs - shouting "respect" really is better entertainment than a weekend with Johnny Vegas and Jimmy Carr.
One can only assume that Nicholas is attempting to secure himself safe passage home as an English interloper.
The hits are here, oh yes - there's the sad one about their lost drummer, the shouty one about a CD player and the great jump-up-and-down-and-go-mad one to finish.
But they may as well have been on for two minutes for all the attention that they're afforded.
This feelgood fest of the summer only well and truly gets underway when a bald 40-something with facepaint like a Batman baddie comes haring onstage.
REM are the reason for this impressionable gathering and impress they do, bursting onto the stage with an explosive I Took Your Name.
Against a backdrop of suspended multicoloured fluorescent tubes, singer Michael Stipe becomes the rock icon and begins throwing shapes in the air like his life depends upon it.
Recent pop chart hit Bad Day gives an opportunity for the casual observer to get involved, while What's the Frequency, Kenneth? - the first single off the band's 1994 career-threatening album Monster - raises the energy level even further.
After the previous albums' moaning and mandolins, Monster was ultimately a fortuitous foray into rock and the strength of the band onstage tonight is that they seem to know the debt that they owe to that change in tempo and attitude.
There are older hits here too and older fans to appreciate them.
The One I Love unites many in song, as does dirgey Drive and the anthemic Everybody Hurts, both culled from multimillion-selling albatross Automatic For The People and both appreciated.
Tracks off new album Around The Sun stand up well, though, with new single Wanderlust being dedicated to Aberfeldy and recent top pop hit single Leaving New York - which Stipe refers to as his favourite city - striking a strangely calm balance with the crowd.
Stipe is in his element here and it shows. His delight at being unleashed on the public is second only to his rambunctious attitude.
After a request for all bottle-throwing to cease is defied, Stipe levels his gaze on the offender. "That includes you, asshole." The New York character has certainly rubbed off on this native of Athens, Georgia, and the spirit and sheer spunk on show here warms the heart.
Closing with Losing My Religion seems spot on in the dusk and an encore comprising Imitation of Life, Find the River and Man on the Moon among others is a snapshot of the career of this phenomenal band.
The only thing stopping REM from beating U2 at being the biggest band in the world at the moment is their integrity and, for that reason alone, long may Stipe reign.
Saturday 18 June 2005
Must do better
(Morning Star, Saturday 18 June 2005)
ALBUM: The Cribs - The New Fellas
(Wichita)
WEEK after week, readers countrywide are sickened by the media hyperbole which accompanies the latest set of spotty youths straight outta Grimsby.
The latest "saviours of British Music" are The Cribs - three boys who got lucky with their infectious first single Hey Scenesters and whose main strength seems to be their place of birth - British rock city du jour, Leeds - as this supposedly affords them a greater knowledge of cool than people from, say, Abergavenny.
The shouty pogo-a-go-go punch of Hey Scenesters opens The New Fellas album with ample energy and enthusiasm, but it soon becomes apparent that this is the unrepresentative tip of a particularly stagnant iceberg.
Tracks like I'm Alright Me and Martell wear the band's innate Northerness like it's an impossibly cool indie badge, but tellingly fail to say or do anything of note.
Even the lyrically adequate tracks - We Can No Longer Cheat You being the standout - are let down by off-key vocals and a general feeling of flatness.
Great pop music is not born out of a need to impress grumpy music journos - it's for people to listen to and feel alive, to lift these three minutes above the rest of the day.
The Cribs haven't entirely failed at producing an adequate soundtrack to the summer season, but it isn't enough for any band to simply suffice.
Like all bands, these new fellas owe it to their listeners to excel - but all they've garnered is a poor D for their effort.
Saturday 11 June 2005
Turgid stylings
(Morning Star, Saturday 11 June 2005)
ALBUM: Nine Black Alps - Everything Is
(Island)
A MANCHESTER four-piece turned up to a raucous, irritating 11, it's astonishing that Nine Black Alps ever got signed.
From opener Get Your Guns, the sound is all Nirvana guitars with very little in the way of actual tunes.
The sort of music that demands to be played loud, even if this was played at a whisper, it still manages to bring on a migraine, thanks to the band's turgid, plodding rock stylings.
Not Everyone showcases the band's varied abilities. No, wait, it's still the same rock-with-no-edge that 12-year-olds across the country are pounding through, dreaming of the day when they can get a record deal too.
Unsatisfied leaves the listener pretty much as you'd expect from the title, not least due to rhyming "unsatisfied" with "sick and tired," which is surely an infringement against the rules of songcraft.
Behind Your Eyes shows some guitar skill, but a little too much Metallica in the mix leaves a nasty taste in its wake.
The title track hits with a tiresome Pearl Jam earnestness and goes downhill from there, if such a thing is imaginable.
It would be too easy to give Nine Black Alps some sharp, pithy explanation for what I think Everything Is, so I'll leave it up to you.
Smug kitsch
(Morning Star, Saturday 11 June 2005)
ALBUM: Minotaur Shock - Maritime
(4AD)
FOLLOWING his debut in 2001, Swansea's Minotaur Shock - aka David Edwards - hasn't exactly set the world alight.
The buzz which surrounds his releases is ephemeral at best, with the music press speedily forgetting his "greatness."
Even Edwards himself seems to have an attention deficit, leaping from one pet project to another and currently plotting the release of his next Bronze Age Fox issue.
Using the phrase "electronic maverick" in his own publicity seems unwise and, when this pretentious, faux-knowing attitude turns out to be the fuel for his new, queasily nautical album, it's hard not to want to smack him quite hard in the face.
The smug, self-regarding kitschness of it all is hard to take - from opener Muesli, it's clear that Minotaur Shock is all design and no substance - like sitting in Nik Kershaw's dressing room in 1984 with his vox on mute. A pleasing propect, I'm sure that you'll agree.
Six Foolish Fishermen is surely some great lost 1980s daytime television theme, while Somebody Once told Me It Existed But They Never Found It at best defies comparisons and, at worst, calls up the bastard child of Glen Campbell and the Pet Shop Boys.
If anyone stops shuddering long enough to buy this record, their nausea will be their own reward.
Just don't say that you weren't warned.
Saturday 4 June 2005
Album round-up: A pop dream
(Morning Star, Saturday 04 June 2005)
The Magic Numbers - The Magic Numbers
(Heavenly)
They're brother and sister, no they're not, they're married. Hang on, that's a different band.
The Magic Numbers really are brothers and sisters - Romeo and sister Michele and Sean and sister Angela.
If that's too cute to bear, you should see the video to breakout single Forever Lost - they look like the people who ate Abba and they sound like pop's young dream's going to take them far.
The aforementioned single is a harmonious, singalong light-infused daydream - and it's not the only one.
The Mule twangs in like a country hit and Love Me Like You might have English teachers all over the land holding their overworked heads in their hands, but since when did pop have to be grammatically correct?
Closing with Try, a gospel-flavoured corker, The Magic Numbers have produced a near-perfect album.
Never outstaying their welcome, Romeo's songs display a gift for restraint and economy and are all the sweeter for it. Four is clearly the magic number.
The Magic Numbers - The Magic Numbers
(Heavenly)
They're brother and sister, no they're not, they're married. Hang on, that's a different band.
The Magic Numbers really are brothers and sisters - Romeo and sister Michele and Sean and sister Angela.
If that's too cute to bear, you should see the video to breakout single Forever Lost - they look like the people who ate Abba and they sound like pop's young dream's going to take them far.
The aforementioned single is a harmonious, singalong light-infused daydream - and it's not the only one.
The Mule twangs in like a country hit and Love Me Like You might have English teachers all over the land holding their overworked heads in their hands, but since when did pop have to be grammatically correct?
Closing with Try, a gospel-flavoured corker, The Magic Numbers have produced a near-perfect album.
Never outstaying their welcome, Romeo's songs display a gift for restraint and economy and are all the sweeter for it. Four is clearly the magic number.
Wednesday 1 June 2005
A city of diverse culture
(Morning Star, Wednesday 01 June 2005)
LIVE: Perth Festival Of The Arts
THE Perth Festival, now in its 34th year, has spent the last few of those working on its reputation for bringing together the unusual, the anachronistic and the seemingly downright discordant.
When a festival can draw together such artistically diverse names as Kiri Te Kanawa, Paul Merton and Jackie Leven, you can reasonably label its efforts a success - and there's plenty more where that came
from.
The festival's Tuesday performances see Sir David Frost spending an evening with an antediluvian capacity crowd at the Perth Theatre.
One of Britain's best-known broadcasters, Frost's appeal lies not in whether one buys into his upper-middle-class gentrified drawl and pseudo-intellectual leanings, but, in the story of an amazing life - a life spent working with, meeting and interviewing some of the world's most important thinkers, politicians and comedians.
Unfortunately, Frost appears to be somewhere else this evening.
The guest in the theatre tonight makes little or no reference in the show's first 15 minutes to his former life as host and co-creator of That Was The Week That Was and The Frost Report, where he shared ideas with John Cleese, Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett, not to mention the inimitable Peter Cook.
Frost's opening gambit is to provide his audience with nothing more than a litany of broadcasters' "errors‚" a veritable expose of everyone who's ever made a dumb crack in the public eye and then fearfully remember Private Eye's Colemanballs.
The unintentional irony of Frost's routine is the delivery - for every amusing verbal misstep we are told of, he stumbles over his words, forgets his place and drops pages on the stage, a sign that the once sharp mind of this Methodist minister's son has, perhaps, become blunted over the years.
Frost could offer amazing insights and stories on any of his recent interviewees, numbering the last six US presidents and the last six British prime ministers.
Unfortunately, the genial, after-dinner speaker quality of his show indicates that material of that calibre comes harder than the other kind and so is not of prime concern tonight.
Although for career longevity, Frost far outweighs Joan Armatrading, the singer-songwriter performing at Perth City Hall on Friday, as far as showmanship is concerned, she has the edge.
Releasing her debut album Whatever's For Us in 1972, the Birmingham-raised artist has consistently pleased fans and critics with her eclectic mix of music styles and earnest vocals.
Armatrading's popularity has been assured since her 1976 commercially successful eponymous album, her third long-playing release. The atmosphere in the hall tonight is of the crackling, electric kind.
From the first second of Armatrading's velveteen vocal, no-one is without reaction.
The hall is filled with fans of all ages, mouthing words, clapping and cheering, and Armatrading becomes, just for a moment, every bit as uniquely important as she was in 1972 - one of a handful of black female vocalists with the talent and songs to stand out from the crowd.
As far as musical appreciation goes, few bands have fans more enamoured than Scotland's own Teenage Fanclub.
Rock'n'roll survivors with over 15 years of experience, Norman Blake's folksy pop peddlers air their recent Man-Made album in the artistic surroundings of the Perth City Hall on Saturday.
The Teenage Fanclub secret is a gift that many pop svengalis would kill for - purity of tune and sing a-longability has stood the boys in good stead throughout their career - and the muse gives no indication of deserting them.
Blake's voice beguiles and charms straight off the bat, showcasing harmonies that celebrity Teenage Fanclub fan Kurt Cobain would've died for.
From Traffic-style psychedelic pop to Byrds-esque layered harmonies, Teenage Fanclub are the very definition of the summer sound.
The boys are from the unapologetic "tunes matter" school and it is clearly their strongest asset.
If you like a lot of cheery pop in your music, the night was as good a time as any to join this 'club.
LIVE: Perth Festival Of The Arts
THE Perth Festival, now in its 34th year, has spent the last few of those working on its reputation for bringing together the unusual, the anachronistic and the seemingly downright discordant.
When a festival can draw together such artistically diverse names as Kiri Te Kanawa, Paul Merton and Jackie Leven, you can reasonably label its efforts a success - and there's plenty more where that came
from.
The festival's Tuesday performances see Sir David Frost spending an evening with an antediluvian capacity crowd at the Perth Theatre.
One of Britain's best-known broadcasters, Frost's appeal lies not in whether one buys into his upper-middle-class gentrified drawl and pseudo-intellectual leanings, but, in the story of an amazing life - a life spent working with, meeting and interviewing some of the world's most important thinkers, politicians and comedians.
Unfortunately, Frost appears to be somewhere else this evening.
The guest in the theatre tonight makes little or no reference in the show's first 15 minutes to his former life as host and co-creator of That Was The Week That Was and The Frost Report, where he shared ideas with John Cleese, Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett, not to mention the inimitable Peter Cook.
Frost's opening gambit is to provide his audience with nothing more than a litany of broadcasters' "errors‚" a veritable expose of everyone who's ever made a dumb crack in the public eye and then fearfully remember Private Eye's Colemanballs.
The unintentional irony of Frost's routine is the delivery - for every amusing verbal misstep we are told of, he stumbles over his words, forgets his place and drops pages on the stage, a sign that the once sharp mind of this Methodist minister's son has, perhaps, become blunted over the years.
Frost could offer amazing insights and stories on any of his recent interviewees, numbering the last six US presidents and the last six British prime ministers.
Unfortunately, the genial, after-dinner speaker quality of his show indicates that material of that calibre comes harder than the other kind and so is not of prime concern tonight.
Although for career longevity, Frost far outweighs Joan Armatrading, the singer-songwriter performing at Perth City Hall on Friday, as far as showmanship is concerned, she has the edge.
Releasing her debut album Whatever's For Us in 1972, the Birmingham-raised artist has consistently pleased fans and critics with her eclectic mix of music styles and earnest vocals.
Armatrading's popularity has been assured since her 1976 commercially successful eponymous album, her third long-playing release. The atmosphere in the hall tonight is of the crackling, electric kind.
From the first second of Armatrading's velveteen vocal, no-one is without reaction.
The hall is filled with fans of all ages, mouthing words, clapping and cheering, and Armatrading becomes, just for a moment, every bit as uniquely important as she was in 1972 - one of a handful of black female vocalists with the talent and songs to stand out from the crowd.
As far as musical appreciation goes, few bands have fans more enamoured than Scotland's own Teenage Fanclub.
Rock'n'roll survivors with over 15 years of experience, Norman Blake's folksy pop peddlers air their recent Man-Made album in the artistic surroundings of the Perth City Hall on Saturday.
The Teenage Fanclub secret is a gift that many pop svengalis would kill for - purity of tune and sing a-longability has stood the boys in good stead throughout their career - and the muse gives no indication of deserting them.
Blake's voice beguiles and charms straight off the bat, showcasing harmonies that celebrity Teenage Fanclub fan Kurt Cobain would've died for.
From Traffic-style psychedelic pop to Byrds-esque layered harmonies, Teenage Fanclub are the very definition of the summer sound.
The boys are from the unapologetic "tunes matter" school and it is clearly their strongest asset.
If you like a lot of cheery pop in your music, the night was as good a time as any to join this 'club.
Saturday 28 May 2005
Nothing to be
(Morning Star, Saturday 28 May 2005)
...Something To Be
(MELISMA/Atlantic)
There's a curious thing about solo male artists in the modern age.
They seem to be either the self-loathing, overly emotional types such as Damien Rice or the sadly missed Elliott Smith, or they go the way of George Michael and Darius - impossibly smug and deserving of a smack.
Rob Thomas has pulled off a previously inconceivable feat - he straddles the line between these two camps and is, therefore, both.
Matchbox 20, another of the bands that we are told are "huge in America" and all around the world, boast Thomas as their frontman and, one imagines, primary creative force.
Best known for his anodyne rendering of Carlos Santana's Smooth in 1999, he has here seen fit to commit to record his own brand of "soulful" music.
From opener This Is How A Heart Breaks, it's clear there's about as much soul in Thomas as in Carrie-era Cliff Richard.
Single Lonely No More is doubtless being battered through overuse on a commercial station near you.
Don't even bother listening to I Am An Illusion, it is a talent vacuum complete with sampled warblings from Bessie Jones and enough crazy trumpet and sax and to make anyone scream.
There is a story about Thomas's personal circumstances, but let these not blind you to the facts - this is terrible music.
The ellipsis in the title would appear to be Thomas's way of adding a gimmicky depth to his debut solo effort, but it simply begs the consumer to fill in the blank for themselves.
The best complete title I can come up with is Dear God, Can You Please Give Me a Sign That I Have Something to Be. The answer, says God, is no.
...Something To Be
(MELISMA/Atlantic)
There's a curious thing about solo male artists in the modern age.
They seem to be either the self-loathing, overly emotional types such as Damien Rice or the sadly missed Elliott Smith, or they go the way of George Michael and Darius - impossibly smug and deserving of a smack.
Rob Thomas has pulled off a previously inconceivable feat - he straddles the line between these two camps and is, therefore, both.
Matchbox 20, another of the bands that we are told are "huge in America" and all around the world, boast Thomas as their frontman and, one imagines, primary creative force.
Best known for his anodyne rendering of Carlos Santana's Smooth in 1999, he has here seen fit to commit to record his own brand of "soulful" music.
From opener This Is How A Heart Breaks, it's clear there's about as much soul in Thomas as in Carrie-era Cliff Richard.
Single Lonely No More is doubtless being battered through overuse on a commercial station near you.
Don't even bother listening to I Am An Illusion, it is a talent vacuum complete with sampled warblings from Bessie Jones and enough crazy trumpet and sax and to make anyone scream.
There is a story about Thomas's personal circumstances, but let these not blind you to the facts - this is terrible music.
The ellipsis in the title would appear to be Thomas's way of adding a gimmicky depth to his debut solo effort, but it simply begs the consumer to fill in the blank for themselves.
The best complete title I can come up with is Dear God, Can You Please Give Me a Sign That I Have Something to Be. The answer, says God, is no.
Wednesday 25 May 2005
Off-kilter
(Morning Star, Wednesday 25 May 2005)
FESTIVAL: Perth Festival of the Arts
KIRSTIE MAY enjoys a diverse mix of contemporary art and culture at Scotland’s second-biggest festival in Perth.
A small town in rural Scotland, Perth is remarkable for its natural beauty.
A gem for visitors and a haven for residents, for 10 days in May, the appeal of Perth is magnified for those with an interest in both traditional and contemporary culture.
Now in its 34th year, Perth Festival of the Arts offers a distinctly varied menu to suit all tastes.
Originally founded to promote artists from classical music and opera, the festival board has, in recent years, sought to expand the appeal of the programme to include all art forms and to attract all people to this, Scotland's second arts festival.
"It's important that we get that mix," says festival administrator Sandra Ralston.
"There are so many things going on that even I'm excited to see."
With a bill that covers the best in comedy, interesting talks from household names and a wide variety of music - from folk to classical to opera - this year, the festival has proven to be yet another winner.
The ArTay art marquee in St John's Place is the home of a variety of artistic showcases throughout the festival and, in each of the programme's five other venues, there is no shortage of diverse spectacle.
Early in the festival, it's hard to tell what will be the talk of the town, which act will shine out brightest among the vast array of stars.
But Friday night in Perth City Hall sees a potential winner, as a diminutive, wonderfully coquettish singer takes to the stage and US citizen Stacey Kent proceeds to hold the audience spellbound.
Internationally successful and uniquely alluring, Kent and her musicians - including her husband on saxophone - weave a seductive musical web around the hall, dipping liberally into the great American Songbook as they deliver their unique take on some of the greats.
Starting out with a version of The Best Is Yet to Come that would have Ol' Blue Eyes smiling, other joys come from Rodgers and Hammerstein - Cockeyed Optimist and State Fair's It Might As Well Be Spring - and the inimitable Cole Porter's You're The Top.
Colin Oxley's sweet guitar ushers in George and Ira Gershwin's They Can't Take That Away From Me and Kent's vocal has the hall ringing with just the right mix of cheer and melancholy.
The warmth of her voice also wrings out every last ounce of emotion from Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars, a personal favourite of Kent's husband from the Brazilian songbook and the perfect leveller of all the wonderful musicians playing here.
The remarkable talent on display during An Evening with Stacey Kent and her Musicians is but a fond memory by the time we reach the Perth Theatre for Paul Merton's Impro Chums.
A comprehension of Whose Line Is It Anyway? notwithstanding, the only cultural competence audience members need to bring to the show is the ability to laugh at anything with impunity.
Merton's "chums" number old cohort Jim Sweeney, music man Richard Vranch and token female Suki Webster.
There are some high points to the proceedings and, before the interval, few targets escape a whipping - from the Pope to George Galloway via the Crazy Frog.
But the interval - when the audience are invited to submit written suggestions - seems to set everyone off-kilter.
The quickfire sketches that follow are lame in the most obvious way, but none of the comedic brains here seems to know when to cut a bad story loose.
A Costa Rican snowboarding coffee picker and a skit involving hedgehogs throwing javelins are both very satisfying, but, all too often, there's nothing to work with.
Merton especially comes up short on all fronts, the try-hard surreality that he exposes on Have I Got News For You being positively natural compared to his performance tonight, miscast horribly as some sort of comedy mentor.
Aberfeldy, however, are about as natural as bands get.
Radiating goodwill from the stage at the Perth Theatre, the Edinburgh quintet charm and disarm the expectant audience.
Even for those who don't know their album Young Forever, the accessibility of Aberfeldy's music cannot be overstated.
Where other shows have packed out the theatre with a mix of genders and generations, Aberfeldy seems to be a show just for the kids, putting it at odds with the generally inclusive nature of the festival.
With the excessive music press buzz that surrounds them, it would be easy to write Aberfeldy off before their second album, but these Rough Trade signings prove here that they have substance in spades.
Riley Briggs's gentle, persuasive manner makes him the ideal frontman for peddling Aberfeldy's folky wares, offering as he does a natural affinity for a strong, sweetly crafted tune and, in the occasional knowing smile, a quiet hint of even greater things to come.
FESTIVAL: Perth Festival of the Arts
KIRSTIE MAY enjoys a diverse mix of contemporary art and culture at Scotland’s second-biggest festival in Perth.
A small town in rural Scotland, Perth is remarkable for its natural beauty.
A gem for visitors and a haven for residents, for 10 days in May, the appeal of Perth is magnified for those with an interest in both traditional and contemporary culture.
Now in its 34th year, Perth Festival of the Arts offers a distinctly varied menu to suit all tastes.
Originally founded to promote artists from classical music and opera, the festival board has, in recent years, sought to expand the appeal of the programme to include all art forms and to attract all people to this, Scotland's second arts festival.
"It's important that we get that mix," says festival administrator Sandra Ralston.
"There are so many things going on that even I'm excited to see."
With a bill that covers the best in comedy, interesting talks from household names and a wide variety of music - from folk to classical to opera - this year, the festival has proven to be yet another winner.
The ArTay art marquee in St John's Place is the home of a variety of artistic showcases throughout the festival and, in each of the programme's five other venues, there is no shortage of diverse spectacle.
Early in the festival, it's hard to tell what will be the talk of the town, which act will shine out brightest among the vast array of stars.
But Friday night in Perth City Hall sees a potential winner, as a diminutive, wonderfully coquettish singer takes to the stage and US citizen Stacey Kent proceeds to hold the audience spellbound.
Internationally successful and uniquely alluring, Kent and her musicians - including her husband on saxophone - weave a seductive musical web around the hall, dipping liberally into the great American Songbook as they deliver their unique take on some of the greats.
Starting out with a version of The Best Is Yet to Come that would have Ol' Blue Eyes smiling, other joys come from Rodgers and Hammerstein - Cockeyed Optimist and State Fair's It Might As Well Be Spring - and the inimitable Cole Porter's You're The Top.
Colin Oxley's sweet guitar ushers in George and Ira Gershwin's They Can't Take That Away From Me and Kent's vocal has the hall ringing with just the right mix of cheer and melancholy.
The warmth of her voice also wrings out every last ounce of emotion from Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars, a personal favourite of Kent's husband from the Brazilian songbook and the perfect leveller of all the wonderful musicians playing here.
The remarkable talent on display during An Evening with Stacey Kent and her Musicians is but a fond memory by the time we reach the Perth Theatre for Paul Merton's Impro Chums.
A comprehension of Whose Line Is It Anyway? notwithstanding, the only cultural competence audience members need to bring to the show is the ability to laugh at anything with impunity.
Merton's "chums" number old cohort Jim Sweeney, music man Richard Vranch and token female Suki Webster.
There are some high points to the proceedings and, before the interval, few targets escape a whipping - from the Pope to George Galloway via the Crazy Frog.
But the interval - when the audience are invited to submit written suggestions - seems to set everyone off-kilter.
The quickfire sketches that follow are lame in the most obvious way, but none of the comedic brains here seems to know when to cut a bad story loose.
A Costa Rican snowboarding coffee picker and a skit involving hedgehogs throwing javelins are both very satisfying, but, all too often, there's nothing to work with.
Merton especially comes up short on all fronts, the try-hard surreality that he exposes on Have I Got News For You being positively natural compared to his performance tonight, miscast horribly as some sort of comedy mentor.
Aberfeldy, however, are about as natural as bands get.
Radiating goodwill from the stage at the Perth Theatre, the Edinburgh quintet charm and disarm the expectant audience.
Even for those who don't know their album Young Forever, the accessibility of Aberfeldy's music cannot be overstated.
Where other shows have packed out the theatre with a mix of genders and generations, Aberfeldy seems to be a show just for the kids, putting it at odds with the generally inclusive nature of the festival.
With the excessive music press buzz that surrounds them, it would be easy to write Aberfeldy off before their second album, but these Rough Trade signings prove here that they have substance in spades.
Riley Briggs's gentle, persuasive manner makes him the ideal frontman for peddling Aberfeldy's folky wares, offering as he does a natural affinity for a strong, sweetly crafted tune and, in the occasional knowing smile, a quiet hint of even greater things to come.
Saturday 21 May 2005
Introducing...
(Morning Star, Saturday 21 May 2005)
IN PROFILE: Joanna Newsom
IN today's post-pop, post-punk, post-postal musical climate, a harpist hailing from Nevada City, California, is an anomaly indeed.
Joanna Newsom now lives in San Francisco and has her fingers in a number of musical pies.
As well as playing with San Francisco rock trio Nervous Cop, Joanna plays keyboards for The Pleased, a band who owe more to Blondie and Television than traditional harp music.
But Newsom's nothing if not inventive and she stresses that her music is informed by many influences.
Writing on her own for about eight years, Newsom's avant-garde leanings are obvious.
Although she takes her lead from folk music, her study of African harp affords her the ability to make sounds with an instrument that most people have never heard before.
Having said that, Newsom is consciously trying to make what she terms "American" music, not wanting to be tarred with the world music brush.
Opening for Devendra Banhart in 2003 got her noticed and the buzz only grew from there.
"I guess that the news travels fast," Newsom humbly states when asked about her fame.
Now in her early twenties, she's been playing harp for about 16 years - and the recognition she receives shows that being from a family of musicians can pay off.
Her mother aimed to be a concert pianist and gave it up to become a doctor, but who still plays piano and "all sorts of stuff." Her father plays guitar, her sister's a cellist and her brother plays drums - von Trapp family eat your heart out.
Newsom's most recent album The Milk Eyed Mender (Drag City) is packed with ethereal beauty and offbeat humour, like magical opener Bridges and Balloons or the wonderful This Side Of The Blue, which features the most striking opening line this decade: "Svetlana sucks lemons across from me, and I am progressing abominably."
It's a lovely, gently subversive work from one of the most promising new musicians from the US.
IN PROFILE: Joanna Newsom
IN today's post-pop, post-punk, post-postal musical climate, a harpist hailing from Nevada City, California, is an anomaly indeed.
Joanna Newsom now lives in San Francisco and has her fingers in a number of musical pies.
As well as playing with San Francisco rock trio Nervous Cop, Joanna plays keyboards for The Pleased, a band who owe more to Blondie and Television than traditional harp music.
But Newsom's nothing if not inventive and she stresses that her music is informed by many influences.
Writing on her own for about eight years, Newsom's avant-garde leanings are obvious.
Although she takes her lead from folk music, her study of African harp affords her the ability to make sounds with an instrument that most people have never heard before.
Having said that, Newsom is consciously trying to make what she terms "American" music, not wanting to be tarred with the world music brush.
Opening for Devendra Banhart in 2003 got her noticed and the buzz only grew from there.
"I guess that the news travels fast," Newsom humbly states when asked about her fame.
Now in her early twenties, she's been playing harp for about 16 years - and the recognition she receives shows that being from a family of musicians can pay off.
Her mother aimed to be a concert pianist and gave it up to become a doctor, but who still plays piano and "all sorts of stuff." Her father plays guitar, her sister's a cellist and her brother plays drums - von Trapp family eat your heart out.
Newsom's most recent album The Milk Eyed Mender (Drag City) is packed with ethereal beauty and offbeat humour, like magical opener Bridges and Balloons or the wonderful This Side Of The Blue, which features the most striking opening line this decade: "Svetlana sucks lemons across from me, and I am progressing abominably."
It's a lovely, gently subversive work from one of the most promising new musicians from the US.
Saturday 30 April 2005
Scotland's two most wanted
(Morning Star, Saturday 30 April 2005)
ALBUM: Jackie Leven and Ian Rankin - Jackie Leven Said
(Cooking Vinyl)
IAN Rankin and Jackie Leven are two of Scotland's best-known exports in their respective fields.
Sons of Fife, east Scotland, their work is a testament to their upbringings - both men were born and raised in a tough time and place.
Rankin, best known for his straight-talking Detective Rebus is, truth be told, the better known of the two, but a level pegging seems to have been afforded Leven due to the writer's extensive fan-base.
Tracks like Edinburgh Winter Blues betray the darker side of a Scotland that both men can legitimately lay claim to and there is a strident honesty which pervades all of the work, even when the subject matter strays into the fictional in The Haunting of John Rebus.
With two discs humorously titled Fifer Wan (studio tracks) and Fifer Twa (live recording), the album comes across like a souvenir from Fife-Land - the post-industrial working class theme park of hard lives and grizzled faces - but its gritty, complex characterisation and engaging atmosphere resonate long after the music's stopped.
Introducing...
(Morning Star, Saturday 30 April 2005)
IN PROFILE: Editors
IN 2005, it's easier than ever to be a jaded music fan.
The new Smiths, the new Joy Division, the new Oasis, the old Oasis - nothing seems fresh and new and it's hard to take.
But, looking past the music press hyperbole and the horror of music television, there actually are some diamonds in the dirt - a few genuinely soulful acts, boasting melodies of an indie fan's dreams and the talent of an epic superstar act in the making.
Editors are just such a band. Signed to traditionally dancier label Kitchenware and made up of Ed Lay, Chris Urbanowicz, Tom Smith and Russell Leach, these university friends are about to hit the big time - and with good reason.
Freakishly tall singer Smith is dismissive of their hailing as "the new Joy Division" by all neophiliacs, but there is a presence onstage - a gait, an expression - that seems even to the passing observer to be directly influenced by Ian Curtis.
Despite being hailed by rock luminary and New Order bassist Peter Hook as "the new Skids," the band are taking it all in their stride.
"People say that we're heavily influenced by bands like New Order and Joy Division," says guitarist Chris Urbanowicz.
"The truth is, we're too young to have known those bands when they were around. We're just hearing them now."
This could be seen as slightly disingenuous, but the music that Editors make sets them apart from the lazy comparisons which have been scatter-gunned at all new British music, from Bloc Party to the Futureheads.
Take the blissful Munich, all Smith's rumbling baritone and haunting guitars chiming through one of the singles of the year.
And then there's debut single Bullets, marking the band out as a different species from the shouty vocals and thrashy guitars of media darlings the Kaiser Chiefs, a great pop tune with brooding atmospheric overtones.
The as yet untitled album is due out later in the year and is sure to feature some intense Echo and the Bunnymen-styled moments, but so much more besides. Stop the presses.
IN PROFILE: Editors
IN 2005, it's easier than ever to be a jaded music fan.
The new Smiths, the new Joy Division, the new Oasis, the old Oasis - nothing seems fresh and new and it's hard to take.
But, looking past the music press hyperbole and the horror of music television, there actually are some diamonds in the dirt - a few genuinely soulful acts, boasting melodies of an indie fan's dreams and the talent of an epic superstar act in the making.
Editors are just such a band. Signed to traditionally dancier label Kitchenware and made up of Ed Lay, Chris Urbanowicz, Tom Smith and Russell Leach, these university friends are about to hit the big time - and with good reason.
Freakishly tall singer Smith is dismissive of their hailing as "the new Joy Division" by all neophiliacs, but there is a presence onstage - a gait, an expression - that seems even to the passing observer to be directly influenced by Ian Curtis.
Despite being hailed by rock luminary and New Order bassist Peter Hook as "the new Skids," the band are taking it all in their stride.
"People say that we're heavily influenced by bands like New Order and Joy Division," says guitarist Chris Urbanowicz.
"The truth is, we're too young to have known those bands when they were around. We're just hearing them now."
This could be seen as slightly disingenuous, but the music that Editors make sets them apart from the lazy comparisons which have been scatter-gunned at all new British music, from Bloc Party to the Futureheads.
Take the blissful Munich, all Smith's rumbling baritone and haunting guitars chiming through one of the singles of the year.
And then there's debut single Bullets, marking the band out as a different species from the shouty vocals and thrashy guitars of media darlings the Kaiser Chiefs, a great pop tune with brooding atmospheric overtones.
The as yet untitled album is due out later in the year and is sure to feature some intense Echo and the Bunnymen-styled moments, but so much more besides. Stop the presses.
Saturday 23 April 2005
Saturday 16 April 2005
Bad connection
(Morning Star, Saturday 16 April 2005)
LIVE: Kaiser Chiefs, The Venue, Edinburgh
KIRSTIE MAY checks out the band of the moment, but is left feeling empty by their stand-offish live performance.
What a curious thing the British music press is. It spends its whole existence scrabbling round for the next big thing, for the next bunch of poor clueless indie heads to coo over and preen.
Then, once this honeymoon period is over, they lambast the said band publicly with searing wit and curt asides highlighting how lame their music, style or hair is. And the cycle begins again.
Leeds' Kaiser Chiefs have already been bitten once by the fame game - under the guise of early noughties also-rans Parva. Some of the band found out about the industry's fickle nature the not-so-easy way.
While not quite reaching the cover star stage then, their experience left them clued up enough to enjoy it all now without commitment, to lap up the praise but not be afraid to give two fingers to it all if need be - adamant, it seems, that they won't get fooled again.
Their Employment tour, in support of the debut album of the same name, is their biggest British tour to date. Like last night in Glasgow's Barrowlands, the boys seem to take it all in their stride at the Venue.
Any notion of substance here are pretty much forgotten. Style is paramount.
Both onstage and in the crowd, the de rigeur painfully cool sneer is prevalent as neighbours quietly covet each other's three-buttoned mod jackets.
Watching Ricky Wilson jerk around the stage like a loopy marionette, it's easy to see why the Kaisers are being touted as the band of "yoof."
Their own style belies a lively modernity, though the tuneful guitar-laden pop that they churn out is plainly modelled on everything that's come before, from 1960s mod and Merseybeat to 1970s and '80s alt-pop from the likes of The Jam - good clean-cut boys who can craft a fine song.
Tunes like twice-released single Oh My God are worthy of a mention - there's clearly a knack to writing singalong songs and this is one of the few bands around at the moment who have it.
Similarly, I Predict a Riot is a perfect gig tune, giving the perfect opportunity for affectedly cool pogoing, and future release Everyday I Love You Less and Less screams indie disco-friendly with a fantastic title refrain reminiscent of the open loathing displayed in songs like The Smiths' Unhappy Birthday.
The problem with the Chiefs and Wilson, in particular, is that their lack of commitment, their standoffishness and their "seen it all before" ethos makes it hard to connect to them as a music fan.
The Kaisers do have plenty going for them - their immense tunes stand tall among the very best in the genre, even when stripped of the passion that they should be showcasing.
This makes them the perfect album band, even if they do come up somewhat short on the live front.
But, at the end of the day, it's hard not to feel like the Kaisers' "other woman‚" - they're with you, but they're clearly thinking of something else the whole time.
Friday 1 April 2005
Saturday 19 March 2005
Gallic beats
(Morning Star, Saturday 19 March 2005)
ALBUM: Daft Punk - Human After All
(Virgin)
WHAT can be said about these two Frenchmen?
They refuse to reveal their faces in publicity and their seemingly slack approach to producing their own original albums - it's been a while, lads - is not entirely indicative of their work output.
Au contraire, their collaborations are many - most famously with those other Gallic musical nymphs Air.
The other thing that they're famous for, of course, is producing dance music the like of which the cherubs have never heard.
Human After All is a treat and a half - the second that the title track kicks in, it's clear that they haven't changed their winning game.
Robot Rock starts with the kind of guitar stabs that you'd expect from Black Sabbath, but that daft digital sound soon kicks in and the song is a prime slice of punk.
The high point of the album is Make Love, a tuneful piano-guided treat with real feeling.
Human After All is like a fabulously cool Euro disco, it's like the soundtrack to a 1980s cartoon - it's like they were never away.
Saturday 12 March 2005
Modern lullaby
(Morning Star, Saturday 12 March 2005)
ALBUM: Moby - Hotel
(Mute)
THE concept behind this new album is an investigation of the homogenised nature of modern life, neatly symbolised by the clinical world of the modern hotel.
Moby excels at creating evocative soundscapes and, here, his attention is focused on calling up an image of an airless space age.
Single Lift Me Up is the standout track - a pounding call to arms for a generation stupefied by satellite TV and internet chatrooms and a neat distillation of the album's manifesto.
Other standouts include the subtly distressing Spiders and a persuasive cover of New Order's Temptation.
There's nothing new here especially, but nothing tired either - as an attempt to rouse the soporific masses, it's a failure, but this album conclusively proves that no-one makes lullabies for modern lives quite like Moby.
A rock gem
(Morning Star, Saturday 12 March 2005)
ALBUM: Brendan Benson - The Alternative to Love
(V2)
IT'S been said a million times - it's not who you are, it's who you know.
And lucky Brendan Benson knows one of modern rock's real movers - Jack White from the White Stripes.
But, if you assumed that Benson was just riding in on Jack's red and white coat tails, you'd be wrong.
Written and recorded by Benson at his home in Detroit, this is an album of absolutely solid alt-rock gems.
Opener Spit it Out calls to mind Thin Lizzy - a punky, blissfully brash tune with plenty of attitude and nothing to prove.
The album's packed with this kind of accessible, radio-friendly work - finely crafted melodies with jamming choruses that alternate with effortlessly thoughtful asides.
Feel Like Myself is all punch and vigour, while the title track is pleasingly reminiscent of Evan Dando's winsomely alt-country stylings.
Benson thanks White on the sleeve notes, but it's surely only a matter of time before the Stripes' bluesman extraordinaire is paying homage to the wit and invention of the new boy on the Detroit scene.
Saturday 5 March 2005
Plenty of wow
(Morning Star, Saturday 05 March 2005)
ALBUM: The Kills - No Wow
(Domino)
THE relentless pounding drums of opener No Wow are the battle cry of The Kills - they're throwing down the gauntlet to all the young pretenders, those who think that they can play the blues when they've got no soul or who lamely try to emulate The Smiths over Patti.
Jamie Hince's grinding guitars are the perfect accompaniment to Alison Mosshart's pouting vocals and the cold, clipped drum machine creates a space for the pair's musical - and sexual - chemistry to move and burn.
Telephone Radio Germany shudders with feverish guitar stabs, while Love is a Deserter trudges in with insistent menace. Dead Road takes off with a bruising guitar lick that Mick Ronson would be proud of.
It's clear that the intensity from the duo's 2003 debut Keep On Your Mean Side hasn't dissipated - if anything, on tracks like Good Ones, they sound closer than ever to implosion.
The Kills are essential, because there just aren't enough bands around with the cool smarts of the Velvet Underground and the icy sexiness of Patti Smith.
No Wow? What a misnomer.
Utter nerve
(Morning Star, Saturday 05 March 2005)
ALBUM: Kaiser Chiefs - Employment
(B-Unique)
THE Kaiser Chiefs' ability to repackage the oversubscribed Britpop singalong takes talent in itself and the boys certainly have that - as well as utter nerve in spades.
Opener Everyday I Love You Less and Less kicks in with crashing guitars and anthemic "na-na-nas."
But, if it seems a heady peak to hit so early, have no fear - it only gets better.
I Predict a Riot, the breakthrough single for the Leeds lads, is an ode to a typical lads' night out beset by lager louts.
It still arrests and floppy-fringed frontman Ricky Wilson really confirms his worth.
Filled with melody and bags of attitude, the Kaisers owe more than a little to the energy of New Wave - but, if any royalties end up going the Jam's way, it'll be money well spent.
Saturday 26 February 2005
A real find
(Morning Star, Saturday 26 February 2005)
ALBUM: M Ward - Transistor Radio
(Matador)
M Ward is an artist of pedigree, most notably his background touring with Conor Oberst's soul-searching Bright Eyes.
This is Ward's fourth album and the personnel involved are an eclectic mix of the great and the good from the softer side of disaffected US alt-country.
There are appearances here from My Morning Jacket's Jim James and the fantastic Vic Chesnutt, as well as musicians from Rilo Kiley and PJ Harvey's band - all of which is testament to the high esteem in which Ward is held.
And the songs more than live up to the inevitable expectations - opener You Still Believe in Me is a gently strummed lullaby, while One Life Away is a torch song with overtures of Old Orleans.
Ward's voice alone is truly something special, enigmatic and aloof and never more intriguing than on the fuzz-soaked, melodious Sweethearts On Parade and album highlight Radio Campaign.
M Ward is a real find and, after four albums, an artist who should be a driving force of creativity.
Technically proficient, lyrically romantic and experimental as anything, Ward's Transistor Radio is anything but static.
ALBUM: M Ward - Transistor Radio
(Matador)
M Ward is an artist of pedigree, most notably his background touring with Conor Oberst's soul-searching Bright Eyes.
This is Ward's fourth album and the personnel involved are an eclectic mix of the great and the good from the softer side of disaffected US alt-country.
There are appearances here from My Morning Jacket's Jim James and the fantastic Vic Chesnutt, as well as musicians from Rilo Kiley and PJ Harvey's band - all of which is testament to the high esteem in which Ward is held.
And the songs more than live up to the inevitable expectations - opener You Still Believe in Me is a gently strummed lullaby, while One Life Away is a torch song with overtures of Old Orleans.
Ward's voice alone is truly something special, enigmatic and aloof and never more intriguing than on the fuzz-soaked, melodious Sweethearts On Parade and album highlight Radio Campaign.
M Ward is a real find and, after four albums, an artist who should be a driving force of creativity.
Technically proficient, lyrically romantic and experimental as anything, Ward's Transistor Radio is anything but static.
Saturday 19 February 2005
A new breed
(Morning Star, Saturday 19 February 2005)
ALBUM: Willy Mason - Where The Humans Eat
(Virgin Records)
MUCH has been made of Willy Mason's age - the casual listener would be hard pushed to deduce that the gravelly voice showcased here belongs to a 20-year-old from white-bread New England haven Cape Cod.
But the soul and the strength that runs through every track shows that Mason is a prodigious talent.
He hails from strong folk singer stock and this is never more obvious than on the Loudon Wainwright-flavoured Still a Fly.
The title track sees him in mellow mode and album opener Gotta Keep Moving has more of the blues about it than Jack White could dream of.
The anthemic single Oxygen is the album highlight, a new wave of musical and lyrical brilliance, with the essence of "now" baked right in: "We can be stronger than bombs if you're singing along and you know that you really believe/ We can be richer than industry as long as we know there's things that we don't really need."
Mason delivers the musical equivalent of his home town's famous chowder - hearty fare that's full of goodness.
Saturday 12 February 2005
Fortuitous timing
(Morning Star, Saturday 12 February 2005)
LIVE: The Kills, Lemon Tree, Aberdeen
THE Kills came along at a fairly fortuitous time in the world of music.
Retro is in. Male-female duos are in. Tune-distorting feedback is in - and these are the makings of the transatlantic band The Kills.
Guitarist-vocalist Jamie Hince comes on rocking with the full-on Domino Records standard look - all retro blazer and messed-up Coxon-like mop.
Vocalist-guitarist Alison Mosshart is lithe-hipped and long-haired, with a growl to make PJ Harvey cower in shame and the most unearthly dancing since Kate Bush hung up her red shoes.
The band's first album, Keep on Your Mean Side, is in fine evidence here, with high point Cat's Claw getting an outing early doors and single Fried My Little Brains garnering a fantastic response from the crowd.
With this tour in sponsorship of the newly released No Wow, it's clear that the fans have journeyed with them onto the difficult second album - and they love it.
The act between former lovers Alison and Jamie is a sexually charged theatre as they thrash their bodies into each other and finish one track with a violent kiss.
As fascinating for their onstage antics as their music, this is, sadly, where they let us down a little - after all, the music should be enough.
But it would be a terrible crime not to admit it - The Kills are one of the best bands around today. And it ain't just cause they got lucky.
Saturday 5 February 2005
A new buzz
(Morning Star, Saturday 05 February 2005)
ALBUM: Rooster - Rooster
(Brightside Recordings)
THE buzz that surrounds Rooster is something of a pop circus - the new Busted, the new McFly - they have all the appropriate tags from neophiliac style-mongers.
Whether that's a blessing or a one-way ticket to the Woolies bargain bin remains to be seen.
This debut opens with Joy Ride, a track with a nu-country influence and shot through with the ghost of Reef.
In fact, those West Country Britpop also-rans are a heavy influence throughout the record and this is never more clear than on debut single Come Get Some.
It's all catchy guitars and singability for the Smash Hits readers and a great rock riff that you've heard somewhere before.
Standing In Line has something of the 1980s rock earnestness about it and belies Rooster's slower side which, if we're honest, isn't terrific.
Soaked in chugging guitars, it all owes more to '80s rock gods than the Busted-McFly axis and the overall impression is that Rooster love their rock influences.
It is the Chinese year of the rooster, but will it be the year of Rooster? If they're happy settling for a teenage fanbase, chances are good.
Saturday 29 January 2005
Who is.... KT Tunstall?
(Morning Star, Saturday 29 January 2005)
IN FOCUS: KT Tunstall
RELEASING her debut album Eye To The Telescope this month, KT Tunstall is a truly original talent destined for great things.
Born in Edinburgh and brought up in St Andrews in Fife, Tunstall comes from the same burgeoning East Coast scene as the Fence Collective, The Beta Band and Dogs Die in Hot Cars.
The individuality of her voice has a strident quality previously heard from artists such as Norah Jones and others and the album's sexy torch singer elements will even interest many pop fans.
Her youth belies her gift producing harmonious dream-soaked soundscapes, often with a boozy, bluesy twist and her lyrics are always tough with a sensitive undercurrent.
"Don't want to be second best," she intones on Miniature Disasters and there is no way that she could be.
The vocal that she lends to all the songs on her debut album is rich beyond her years and the dark side of tracks like Another Place To Fall sets her apart from a lot of the nu-country folksy female vocalists that are so prevalent this year.
The intensity of her voice and the soulfulness of her music shows that Tunstall has a lot more to give, even after this incredible debut.
With celebrity fans including Jools Holland and a raft of positive reviews under her belt, Tunstall is the woman to kick Dido's bony behind off the top spot and enrich the charts - and our lives - with her truly extraordinary talent.
Solid rockers
(Morning Star, Saturday 29 January 2005)
LIVE: 22-20s, Edinburgh Liquid Rooms
THE 22-20s are a band that it helps not to know anything about - where they're from, who they are - none of this means anything when Devil in Me kicks in, rocking relentlessly.
The trio from Rock Central are kings of rocked-up blues, with riffs to die for and a bad attitude that would ruin McFly's career.
Singles like Twenty-two Days and Such A Fool are strong, but the difference between those and album tracks is barely noticeable - they're all ballsy old-school rock standards.
Their look is pure Tindersticks, all dark shirts and suits, probably with the smell of smoky venues such as this one buried deep in the fabric.
Singer Martin Trimble peers artfully from under a mop of fair hair and dares the most static of viewers not to move to the infectious blues rhythm.
Bassist Glen Bartrup is none more Jagger, all pouting lips and floppy hair, while drummer James Irving keeps it tight and yet oh so loose.
The bands sound is beefy and big, but surprisingly melodic, more so here than on record.
They are technically perfect and there's no reason why, in this age of chancers like Kasabian, the 22-20s should not be more successful.
Gigs like this will really put them on the musical map. And not a only map of Lincolnshire, which is where they're actually from.
LIVE: 22-20s, Edinburgh Liquid Rooms
THE 22-20s are a band that it helps not to know anything about - where they're from, who they are - none of this means anything when Devil in Me kicks in, rocking relentlessly.
The trio from Rock Central are kings of rocked-up blues, with riffs to die for and a bad attitude that would ruin McFly's career.
Singles like Twenty-two Days and Such A Fool are strong, but the difference between those and album tracks is barely noticeable - they're all ballsy old-school rock standards.
Their look is pure Tindersticks, all dark shirts and suits, probably with the smell of smoky venues such as this one buried deep in the fabric.
Singer Martin Trimble peers artfully from under a mop of fair hair and dares the most static of viewers not to move to the infectious blues rhythm.
Bassist Glen Bartrup is none more Jagger, all pouting lips and floppy hair, while drummer James Irving keeps it tight and yet oh so loose.
The bands sound is beefy and big, but surprisingly melodic, more so here than on record.
They are technically perfect and there's no reason why, in this age of chancers like Kasabian, the 22-20s should not be more successful.
Gigs like this will really put them on the musical map. And not a only map of Lincolnshire, which is where they're actually from.
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