Sass and spice

(Morning Star, Friday 06 October 2006)

LIVE: The Pipettes, Spring & Airbrake, Belfast

KIRSTIE MAY experiences The Pipettes and discovers a girl band all set to redress pop's historical imbalance.

A TRIO of angel-voiced singers dressed in identically patterned outfits takes to the stage.

Despite their diminutive size, they belt out top pop hits and whip the attendant crowd into a frenzy.

Ladies and gents, meet The Pipettes - Gwenno, RiotBecki and Rosie.

The idea of harmonising girl groups may have gone out with the ark, after all, we've had Joplin rocking out, and choking on her own puke, PJ Harvey giving it the raw sex appeal and Lily Allen whacking anyone who doesn't move fast enough.

But there's been a gap all along. Since the days of the Ronettes, the Velvettes and the Shirelles, the spirit of togetherness that a girl group offers, and the unmistakable popness of it all has been lost.

But the Pipettes have decided to redress the pop history imbalance - and how.

Support tonight is a terrifying experience, coming as it does from one of the Pip's actual band, a curious fellow named Monster Bobby.

There's little of the monster about him, but certainly a rumbling horror in his drum machine, which seems to be reacting violently against poor Bobby and all that he's trying to do.

But from the second the band burst onstage, all monstrous thoughts are dispelled. The girls, complete with matching dance moves, romp through the best of the album, from the tremendous Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me and One Night Stand, through new track Baby Don't Leave Me. With genuine banter from a thoroughly nice band, the Spring and Airbrake seems to shed its dour grime and explode in a bright pop light, all polka dots and flowers.

The assembled crowd react very strongly to the antics onstage, cheering and chatting with cheeky Gwenno and sweet Becki.

When new single Judy comes on, there's a general squeal of delight and the faithful mouth along to every word of a song which has long since been a Radio 2 favourite.

The best thing about The Pipettes is their ability to take the spirit of Spector and add their own sprinkle of sass and spice. There's rarely a lyric on show which doesn't demand a smile, from Judy's "I never said anything to her face, cuz my friends thought she'd kick my arse all over the place" to the closer, and total highlight, I Love a Boy in Uniform. "I Love a Boy in Uniform (school uniform)."

The Pipettes' deceptive innocence covers up the fact that they can be a bit dirty, but, when it sounds this good, even your dad would agree that they've taken the spirit of something fabulous and infused it with a new life.

Top hit Pull Shapes gets the best dance moves of the night, but there's never been a pertinent observation than the lyrics of their very own theme tune, We Are The Pipettes. "We are the Pipettes/And we've got no regrets/If you haven't noticed yet/We're the prettiest girls you've ever met." Too true.

Not part of music royalty

(Morning Star, Friday 06 October 2006)

ALBUM: Fergie - The Dutchess
(Polydor)

ONE can only imagine that former Black Eyed Peas songstress Fergie has endeavoured to infuse a little class into her get-up, punning her album title on the given name of a lady of state.

How handy, then, that the only actual duchess with anywhere near this much filth emanating from her is also Fergie's namesake, mother to Princess Eugenie and the other one.

You may think that we're lucky that we don't have to listen to Duchess of York rap in a sickening fashion about toe-sucking or any of the myriad scandals she has involved herself in, but you'd be wrong.

There's not really much anyone could say to recommend this album. Like the BEP, Fergie takes "sampling" and turns it into "ripping off" at various stages.

Her little-girl-lost sluttiness is the epitome of clubland horror, so it's guaranteed to fill dance floors, but there's nothing more unsettling than hearing her take off Pink in Big Girls Don't Cry, hard house in Get Your Hands Up and, bizarrely, Limp Bizkit in Wake Up, all without a flinch.

Fergie's a chameleon of sorts, but it's no recommendation and she certainly ain't no duchess.

Down the house road

(Morning Star, Friday 08 September 2006)

ALBUM: Basement Jaxx - Crazy Itch Radio
(XL)

THE Jaxx - if I may - are a funny one. A dance band who burst onto the scene with a raft of exciting, illuminating tracks. Red Alert, Rendez-Vu, Romeo - all dancefloor fillers, but all with a little soul, a little heart and, yes, a little pop.

How disappointing to learn, then, that curiously handsome Felix and that other one have gone down a house music route with no return.

Fans of Kish Kash will probably be delighted to find more of the same sort of thing, but, sadly, that amounts to pretty soulless, pretty dire dance puff with not a lot of bright spots.

Single Hush Boy has a catchiness to it that repetitive beats beget, taking its rhythmic cue from Earth, Wind and Fire et al, with all the horror that entails.

Hey You melds disco with Mexicana, while On The Train lifts Hit The Road, Jack and makes it a little bit banal.

Their past has proven that Basement Jaxx have a vision of dance music. It was fun and listenable and, crucially, unique to them.

Unfortunately, Crazy Itch Radio portrays a couple of lads who've lost the plot, producing the same old, same old as all others of their ilk.

There's more than this to the world of dance, but the Jaxx have clearly forgotten the steps.

Healing balm for the world

(Morning Star, Friday 08 September 2006)

ALBUM: Peter, Bjorn and John - Writer's Block
(Wichita)

IF the summer seemed frighteningly brief and the autumn rains have set in all too soon, this record will make it all better.

Putting Writer's Block onto your stereo will make you younger, the sound of sunshine that spills forth from your speakers proof enough that there is such things as light and love and, truthfully, that the world is better and more interesting than awarding the Mercury Music Prize to the Arctic Monkeys.

From the opening title track onwards, Peter, Bjorn and John explore a world of youth, heartbreak and hope, creating a soundtrack for young people in flared trousers moving to the music as in an episode of Ulysses 31.

Single Young Folks has the aural appeal of an afternoon spent chilling out with Felicity Kendal, all wholesome harmonies and an irresistible chorus, the like of which Air would be proud.

Amsterdam is a fine example of relaxed, folky pop and Let's Call It Off is a harmony-heavy delight with a chorus that stays with you as you enter the real world once again, refusing to be brought down by the dull and vexatious.

Buy this record and make it a family heirloom. Music like Peter, Bjorn and John play is the road map for world peace and it's destined to make everything better.

Another corker

(Morning Star, Friday 01 September 2006)

ALBUM: Outkast - Idlewild
(RCA)

OUTKAST have plundered through their musical career, confounding critics with their intelligent soul-tinged rap and rap-tinged soul on a wave of publicity from famous relationships and acting careers.

So it is quite surprising that they have managed to turn out, once again, a fair corker of a record.

Sadly, Outkast's sound is less individual nowadays and the prevalence of trumpets which once set it apart from the pop landscape in 2002 are now de rigueur for a band with pretensions of soul.ut, from the Outkast-by-numbers funk of Mighty O, the bluesy Idlewild Blue (Don'tchu Worry 'Bout Me) is a breath of fresh bluegrass, a modern take on a musical tradition which swaggers with their unmistakable sound.

Elsewhere, Morris Brown takes in a strong gospel influence and The Train exhibits anthemic positivity, while PJ and Rooster trundles in sounding like Star Wars's own Max Rebo Band, all indefinable but enjoyable noises.

Outkast are a classic band in the making, with all the heart of pop, the soul of Motown and, now, the inspiration of a bluegrass twang. They're an international treasure and their place in music history is cemented.

New York disco-rock groove

(Morning Star, Friday 01 September 2006)

ALBUM: The Rapture - Pieces of The People We Love
(Mercury)

NEW YORK band The Rapture make music that is an aquired taste. It's a sound that everyone should make acquiring their top priority.

Three years after their debut burst onto the impossibly cool disco-rock scene, the quartet are back to basics with this confident document to life as an established act.

From opener Don Gon Do It, it's clear that the winning template that they carved out in 2003 has been dusted off for this new journey into stereophonic sound. Without wanting to paint a vulgar picture, it's balls-out funky-assed pop-rock in the most strenuous sense.

Title track Pieces of the People We Love is a melodious meander with its roots in a drum beat enthused with the spirit of My Sharona, all tight and twitchy and teasing dance moves out of the lifeless limbs of passers-by.

Get Myself Into It is like a disco groove as belted out by Robert Smith and standout track Whoo! Alright, Yeah, Uh Huh is more jerky disco rock with a delightful call-and-response refrain.

There's a gear change in softer songs such as Calling Me, proving that hi-energy is not their only setting and, the maturity of the vocal on The Sound gives the lie to doubters of the band's breakout pop-funk smash House of Jealous Lovers.

The party line is that The Rapture are having way too much fun to care whether or not they're cool.

Listening to the hip sounds on this record, it's hard to believe that it's a by-product of the in-studio hilarity that their press speaks of.

But it's not important. They are cool and when their music is this much fun, who cares if it's studied?

Half-written plagiarisms

(Morning Star, Friday 25 August 2006)

ALBUM: Kasabian - Empire
(Columbia)

THE rock world loves a band who walks the walk and talks the talk.

Liam Gallagher? A voice rougher than a badger's behind, but he loves himself, so he's a winner.

Bono? An eejit who got a lucky break at 18 and has a God complex at 45. But so loved!

Kasabian? Well, they are very confident and people do seem to like them. Now hear this.

There is more than enough good music out there without regressing to listening to this nu-baggy nonsense or whatever it is.

Take the single, Empire. The most astounding thing is the bizarre half-tune that kicks in after verse one. It's not quite in tune and completely sends the rest of the rhythm out of whack.

After three party-time singles, one might have been persuaded to have a positive reaction. What foolishness.

Empire is an album speckled with half-written plagiarisms and overplayed dirges, specifically Stuntman and the abomination which is British Legion.

Here's what to do. Go to your local record store. Buy the Stone Roses debut album.

Dance your rocks off, baby, because Kasabian will never outdo this magic.

Average attempt at mimicry

(Morning Star, Friday 18 August 2006)

ALBUM: The Young Knives - Voices of Animals and Men
(Transgressive)

YOU know them, you've seen them peering out of the pages of all the indie magazines.

These prankster nu-pop-punk-alt-indie darlings are a little of the try-hard variety, hailing from Ashby-de-la-Zouch and bedecked in tweed.

If pretension is the death of modesty, then the Young Knives think that they're the dog's, if you'll pardon the expression.

Maybe all that tweed's alright in the capital, but how quick would they get kicked in in the provinces? They'll find out on their mega tour in October, but, in the meantime, there's a record to be had.

The angularity characterising the coolest of guitar bands is all present and correct here, but Part Timer makes for a somewhat weak album opener.

In fact, the singles on here are the true stand-outs, from Weekends and Bleak Days (Hot Summer) to Here Comes the Rumour Mill.

Weekends and Bleak Days offers vocals reminiscent of PIL-era John Lydon with a repetitive guitar part to give even the most eager of axemen RSI. With the maxim "hot summer, hot hot summer" it's a mite out of place this August, but very catchy nonetheless.

Similarly, Here Comes the Rumour Mill is bright, light and indie-disco-tastic, but, again, the plod through the fillers until She's Attracted To - a tale of parental disapproval and punch-ups - is a bit much.

The Young Knives definitely have something - a recent cover of Kids in America displayed the filmic claustrophobia of a David Lynch movie, if vocally a little strangled.

Their new wave, spikey style is executed with precision. But the sum total of this record is an average attempt at mimicry and not a lot more.

A bawdy wit and charm

(Morning Star, Friday 11 August 2006)

ALBUM: Lily Allen - Alright Still
(Regal)

BEST known for being the daughter of Keith and having a particularly gobby way about her, 20-something Lily Allen's debut exhibits a degree of wisdom well beyond her years and far outweighing her seemingly obnoxious persona.

Alright Still is packed with the sweetest sort of summer music - with one foot firmly in the pop camp and a lyrical poetry that falls halfway between the Arctic Monkeys and Maximo Park, Lily's crisp observational tone is much like, bear with me, a female Streets. But don't let that put you off.

On opener and number one single the gently reggae Smile, Lily's washing that cheating man right out of her hair with a wry examination of their failed relationship, less woman scorned, more woman relieved.

High points on the record would have to be the '60s-styled Everything's Just Wonderful, which details the modern world from Lily's point of view, registering disgust with everything from the inability to get a mortgage to the state of the dating game.

The sweet and cheery Alfie, which details Lily's concerns for her waster brother who spends his time smoking in his room. The "oompah" backing gives Alfie a magical nursery rhyme feel, as the relationship between brother and sister is cheerfully examined.

Allen is nothing if not bawdy and her lyrics, while sweet and charming, are peppered with swearing and colloquialisms.

But the magic of her music is none more recognisable than on LDN - an ode to London for the text generation. She notes the pimps and chavs filling the streets of her beloved capital with a dry pseudo-intellectual glance.

An album for the the heartbroken and the hopeful, Allen runs the gamut of human emotions and comes up with a record with about 100 times the sincerity of anything that Coldplay could dream of.

As they possibly say in Islington, nuff respect.

Fun and games

(Morning Star, Friday 11 August 2006)

ALBUM: The Pipettes - We Are The Pipettes
(Memphis Industries)

THE dazzling wonder that is the Pipettes cannot be overrated.

From the alien voices chanting "we are the Pipettes" on the intro to the song of the same name, Riotbecki, Gwenno and Rosay rock and roll their way through The Ronettes' back catalogue from an alternate universe.

Packed with harmonies and humour, there's no escaping singing along with all of your heart. Their basic pop tunes clobber anything from the MOR also-rans clogging the airwaves.

The Pipettes' positivity is contagious, but don't think that they are merely vacuous flirty pop vessels - the substance comes from their knack with a good tune and a finely-turned phrase.

Were it fully legal, this reviewer would volunteer to distribute copies of We are the Pipettes to all readers, but, instead, recognise the nudge to discover the incredible joy for yourself.