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.

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.

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.

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.

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.