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.

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.

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.