Loud And Quiet 3 – Video Nasties

Loud And Quiet Zero pounds / Volume 03 / Issue 03 / 100 percent R RATED

Video Nasties If you really want a job done properly...

PLUS WET PAINT GRAFFITI ISLAND NAVVY O.CHILDREN THE GOLDEN FILTER SPEECH DEBELLE BECAUSE MUSIC ANIMAL COLLECTIVE THE PRODIGY EX LION TAMERS CRYSTAL ANTLERS THE INVISIBLE

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All photography by Gabriel Green

DIRTY BINGO Vs LOUD AND QUIET

Every month at The Macbeth Hoxton St Coming up...

February 14 Bear Hands Screaming Tea Party Teeth!!!

March 14 Gentle Friendly Three Trapped Tigers Django Django www.loudandquiet.com

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Contents 03| 09 Photographer: Tim Cochrane

07 – Asexual / Gypsy / Pirate 08 – Strip / Love / Joy 10 – Jesus / Kicking / Fire 13 – All / That / Jazz 14 – Nazi / Wolf / Dude 15 – Solid / Gold / Fox 16 – Twisted / Bob / Marley 18 – Hell / Yeeeeaaahhh 21 – Superficial / Cock / Rock 27 – Pathetic / Lars / Ulrich 30 – Control / Your / Children 35 – Hot / Like / Napalm 41 – Lion / Riot / Meeting 46 – Frank / Butcher / Son

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Contact

info@loudandquiet.com Loud And Quiet 2 Loveridge Mews Kilburn London NW6 2DP Stuart Stubbs Alex Wilshire Art Director Lee Belcher film editor Dean Driscoll Editor

Sub Editor

Advertising

advertise@loudandquiet.com Contributors

Anna Dobbie, Benson Burt, Chris Watkeys Danny Canter, Danielle Goldstien Dean Driscoll, Elizabeth Dodd Edgar Smith, Greg Cochrane, Kate Hutchinson, Kate PArkins, Mandy Drake Owen Richards, Rebecca Innes, Reef Younis Sam Little, Sam Walton, Simon Leak Tim Cochrane This Month L&Q Loves

Chris Stone, James Heather, Jane Third Jodie Banaszkiewicz, Jon Lawrence, Leah Stafford The views expressed in Loud And Quiet are those of the respective contributors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the magazine or its staff.

All rights reserved 2009 © Loud And Quiet.

The Beginning 03| 09

no more heroes Over-familiarity and lack of effort has wiped out the true rock star Writer: Mandy Drake

Remember when rock stars were full timers? When David Bowie would drift around Safeway dressed like an asexual gypsy pirate on ‘a big shop’? When if you weren’t porking Led Zeppelin you were only getting near them by waiting patiently at the crash barrier, or barging to the front? When if you wanted to touch Iggy Pop you then had to wipe your hand clean of peanut butter afterwards? Nah, me neither, because musicians are no longer the untouchables they once were.

To be fair, there’s a large whack of footage from the 60s that features post-‘Peppers’ Beatles rubbing shoulders with tripping accountants and average-men, presumably not on a school night. But that was the 60s, and anything went then; sex without spouses even! As Vietnam looked certain to stretch out of the decade though, despite passionate rallies, sit ins and wotnot, the 60s started to taste sour, and soon rock stars were rockstars once more and everyone else had to look on in awe.

Exactly how it should be!

Whether Bowie has actually ever searched for the freshest loaf in Morrison’s (like many things, company names change, right David?) is not really the point, but as Ziggy, The Thin White Duke or Aladdin Sane, he was always the ultimate style icon, off stage as much as on.

And he’s not been alone in the past. Everyone dressed like camp, daft wizards throughout glam, but even in 1983 Morrissey’s quiff was extra high when strolling around Manchester, his ‘civvies’ less a departure from his stage get-up, his blouses equally as bellowing and ludicrous to those not in Britain’s best band. Johnny Rotten – admittedly heavily styled by a third party – was constantly draped in ripped Union Jacks; Simon Le Bon, never without a finely quaffed Princess Di cut, or out of a tailored white suit.

These days it’s either a case of bands dressing up for their hour long live sets (Muse) or, more often than not, not even making the effort then (Arctic Monkeys). “It’s because we’re

just normal blokes like our fans,” might justify Luke Prichard or a member of The View, but it’s no excuse. Poster sales are down guys because a mirror is far more functional when you’re looking a little too similar to those you may admire.

It seems to be a concern only for the world of ‘indie’. Rock, metal and emo don’t have this problem. There, everyone – fans and bands – aim to out-dress each other. Whereas in hip hop, something altogether different happens to separate the stars from those that have made them just that.

In terms of clothing, anyone can dress like Jay-Z; he’s even laid on a whole clothing label to make dressing like a ‘Roc Boy’ effortless. 50 Cent’s done it too, as have countless other rappers, but what makes them idols is the amount of access they grant us. Like Page and Plant, getting near Jigga and Curtis Jackson III is no mean feat. Constantly surrounded by vast encourages – a noted life accessory not enjoyed by us mere mortals – for a fan to infiltrate

a rap stars world is practically unheard of. That used to be the case with bands also, but then Pete Doherty and Carl Barat came along and fucked it all up.

Initially, an evening around The Libertines’ squat was an exciting proposal indeed, blurring lines between performer and audience like we’d certainly never known before. Sat around a real and brilliant band’s flat, as if we’re actual friends of theirs, of course it was. But Pete and Carl did make an effort, in their own romantic scally-wags-in-leather-and-denim way, and it’s really what’s followed that’s killed off the notion of rock stars being untouchable entities – countless bands playing kooky gigs in phone boxes for mobile phone companies, members of scene bands flaunting themselves near music fans in clubs, in the vain hope that they’re asked for a camera phone picture, musicians mingling in the audience before shows (gasp!). And none of them dressed anything like Captain Hook’s camp-happy brother in the frozen veg aisle.

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The Beginning

Q&A Mat Horne is following his Brits presenting gig with the launch of a new club night at 333/Mother Bar

computer love ... or hate?

It’s hard to tell as Spotify looks set to squash physical releases for good Writer: Stuart Stubbs

Joy Division’s ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ is one of those songs so overplayed that you sometimes need to remind yourself of its brilliance, mentally deconstructing its tone, pace and melody as it stretches on.

It’s like Oasis’ ‘Wonderwall’, or Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’. The working office – as opposed to your bedroom floor with the lights out – is probably not the place to do this. And the dim light of your stereo is no doubt a more appealing luminescence than overhead strip lighting and a retina-scorching, bright PC screen. But that’s where ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ is coming from, free of charge, courtesy of soon-to-be-internetphenomenon Spotify. And, despite the photocopier grinding away, and the continual murmurs of my colleagues, I was remembering just why this particular track is the most important post-punk songs of all time. And then Jimmy Carr turned up.

I was expecting the fuzzes and scratches of ‘Disorder’, as neatly displayed on my Spotify playlist, and I got Jimmy Carr promoting direct.gov.uk. My hard work had been dashed. I was no longer in that poignant place that Ian Curtis’ voice is capable of taking you to, I was in an annoying office again. But what did I expect? There’s no

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such thing as a free lunch, and Spotify is no exception.

A streaming site that has seemingly penned deals with every major label on the planet, the agreement is that music fans can listen to whole albums as much as they like, for free, providing they are willing to put up with the occasional radio ad. If they’re not, the chore can be avoided for modest fee of 99p per day, or £9.99 per month for a ‘premium’ all-you-can-eatstyle pass. And suddenly Jimmy’s wide face blabbing on doesn’t seem too bad at all, because suddenly being able to listen to thousands of albums for the same price as just one hard pressing seems like extortion. So we can only imagine how the listening public are soon to feel about buying physical releases – and even MP3s – in the coming months and years to come.

For iTunes, the hunter is imminently to become the hunted; the rate at which download purchases are due to drop surely being far higher than the fall in numbers between CDs sales and digital music files. After all, we’re now used to listening to great (and less great) works over the top of humming base units and glowing screens, be it during our working days or having returned once more to the comfort of our identical home computers. We’ve become familiar

with not having sleeve notes to thumb through whilst listening to our latest buys, and soon, even if Spotify does remain solely a streaming site (on record, the creators have not ruled out making downloads possible in the future) we’ll no doubt do away with our iPod too.

Mine’s beginning to piss me off anyway, if I’m honest.

Of course, this impressive piece of web kit is not all bad, not even for a technophobe like me, who thought that downloads would be seen through as soon as they came about. Spotify, as you probably already know, is pretty brilliant. As far as checking out bands and dipping into albums that you might like to try-before-you-buy, it’s a digital invention that makes Myspace its potty where major artists are concerned. But can we really say that we will buy after a try? Can those that bleat on about it being ‘just about the music’, questioning why band’s dare to demand cash rewards for their compositions if loads of people are hearing their art – with little regard for the musicians that have needed to sign on to create their very own ‘Definitely Maybe’ for us – honestly say that their tenners don’t now seem better put to use than squandered on records that they can hear for free? Because I can’t.

Hey Matt, tell us about this new club night then...

Only if you call me my real name which is Mat, not Matt. It’s a weekly indie/ electro night curated by me with guest DJs and bands on occasion.

How did the idea come about?

I did some gigs for Club XFM and the Midnight Socialite approached me about doing it.

What’s the music policy going to be?

Wall-to-wall indie bangers and electro filth.

If you could get any band to play, who would it be?

EMF. It’s not the live show so much, just the fact their album ‘Schubert Dip’ got me in to music as a boy.

What kind of music are you into?

Guitars and bleeps. At the moment mainly guitars, in particular Felix and Hugo White’s.

What was your favourite album of 2008?

‘Antidotes’ by Foals because it was so fresh and exciting and unlike anything I’d heard recently. It was obviously inspired by a lot that had gone before, but felt different. I haven’t yet got bored of it. There was also an instant backlash against the band, which completely baffled me, because the album is a superb piece of work How will your club night be different to others in London?

People will be asking the DJ for photos.

Is that all?

Well, most other clubs sell booze to people and play music either live or from records and CDs and the people dance to it or shout over it to each other. Most other clubs line ups don’t have a person off the telly curating them, so err...yeah.

How good a DJ are you, 1 being Peaches Geldof, 10 being Erol Alkan?

2?

Are there any nights out there that you’d like to emulate in any way?

The spirit of All That Jazz @ The Attic, Manchester circa 1998 with the music of Push and Durrr.

The Beginning

Books

By Janine Bullman

King Kong Theory

By Virginie Despentes (Serpent’s Tail) Not about the giant ape but rather a more inspirational species --------------------From the writer and director of Baise – Moi comes ‘King Kong Theory’; part feminist manifesto, part memoir.

Despentes’ writing is startlingly provocative and highly personal, her theories drawn from her own life experience – raped as a teenager, she later worked as a prostitute and in the porn industry. Her analysis of “MTV Hooker Chic” alone caught me looking at my own reflection in a very different light. This is inspiring stuff and sends feminist theory rocketing into the future. Despentes is the punk rock De Beauvoir, a true heroine of modern day female rebellion. Read this; then take a long lingering look at yourself, and that goes for the boys too.

Golden gaze Shoegaze has always been a derogatory term, unjustly, says Dean Driscoll In years to come, Rob Da Bank is set to be as widely revered as John Peel and Michael Eavis. With his late-night Radio 1 show, and as the man behind Glastonbury’s natural heir, Bestival, he is in possession of both of those great men’s talents for their lines of work, as well as being as genuinely well-liked as each. He clearly knows good music – what’s good for radio and what’s good for festivals – so it’s appropriate that he’s Soma’s first choice to curate ‘Sci-Fi-Lo-Fi Vol. 3’, a companion series to the label’s Sci-Fi-Hi-Fi collections that explores more down-tempo music and is set for release on March 9th.

For the first in the series, Mr Da Bank has opened up the opportunity to re-appraise ‘Shoegaze’, with a track selection that takes classic examples of the genre’s late 80s/ early 90s heyday, and combines it with more recent tracks that borrow the shoegaze aesthetic.

What’s been unusual about the genre is how its name was initially given in a sniffily dismissive fashion, as journalists poured scorn on the

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‘miserable’ nature of the music.

You can’t punch the air to ‘shoegaze’, merely stare out into middle distance, or at the floor in front of you, in your baggy jumper. That’s the theory anyway, but ‘shoegaze’ is actually a total misnomer for what can actually be genuinely uplifting and euphoric music. When Rob Da Bank booked the granddaddy of the genre, Kevin Shields, to headline last year’s Bestival with My Bloody Valentine, it made absolute perfect sense as they delivered what was one of the most awe-inspiring, joyously life-affirming performances of the weekend.

Kicking off with a shoegaze classic, The Jesus & Mary Chain’s ‘Just Like Honey’ (itself chosen as a beautifully melancholic closing theme to Lost In Translation), ‘Sci-Fi-Lo-Fi’ also features Ride and Slowdive – two acts still somewhat regarded as a joke in sniffier rock-hack circles, for their perceived miserablism. Put in context now, alongside the compilation’s more contemporary cuts from Boards Of Canada, Maps and M83, such dismissal now seems ludicrously

unfair, with both acts patently demonstrating far more imagination and craft than a thousand Coldplay-clones. The placing of the tracks in this context is instructive – Maps received a Mercury nomination for a debut album that shared many traits with the likes of the Cocteau Twins and Chapterhouse, yet were Maps to be labelled as shoegaze – a term that followed around Amusement Parks On Fire, to detrimental effect – you get the feeling the critics wouldn’t be so readily forthcoming with their praise.

Despite displaying all of the genre’s hallmarks, it’s rare for anybody to label Sigur Ros or Mogwai as shoegaze. And the genre’s influence is felt in the best leftfield indie – Asobi Seksu, Fuck Buttons and The Big Pink for example – and even in dance music, with Gui Boratto and Nathan Fake crafting beauty from shoegaze-esque drones and waves of noise. Perhaps it’s time for Rob Da Bank to help find a betterfitting label for ‘shoegaze’, as these artists and their fans seem to be looking anywhere other than down.

Story Behind The Protest Song

By Hardeep Phull (Greenwood Press) Inside some of the more powerful lyrics ever put to record --------------------Featuring 50 songs that shaped the 20th century, this book couldn’t have been released at a more relevant moment in history, with the first black president of America and a world in the grips of recession. Social upheaval has been at the root of some of the most important songs in modern history and Phull talks through the inspiration and the social and political context of the likes of James Brown’s ‘Say It Loud And Say It Proud’ and Green Day’s ‘American Idiot’. Meticulously researched and written with soul, ‘Story Behind…’ covers over a 100 years in music, tackling the legacies the songs left behind and their relevance in our current culture.

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Speech Debelle

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Hip hop to warm the heart, even when it’s minus 3 on a Sunday afternoon

Writer: Stuart stubbs “Wherever hip hop goes, police go,” giggles Gypsy Hill’s Speech Debelle as a neighbour in a dressing gown huffs back into her home. And within an hour the boys in blue arrive – they’re actually park rangers, but it’s close enough – due to the heinous racket being made by Speech on a nearby bandstand for gorilla-gigging website Bandstandgigs.com. The racket being made is of course neither heinous nor indeed a racket; drums gently padding to the sweet whispers of a young rapper with some personal stories to tell, and the parkies agree, enjoying the lo-key show with the rest of us already under Speech’s poetic spell.

‘The Key’ is the 25-year old’s debut single on her new label, ‘Big Dada’, and it’s a track so melodic that at 1pm on the coldest Sunday of the year we’re where we are and not huffing about in our dressing gowns.

“It’s broken into two halves,” explains the rapper of her new track “the first half being a story about lost friendship, the second half being about how, in hindsight, y’know, people have issues that affect the way they treat you, so it’s not necessarily your fault why someone is acting quite mean or strange. Each person has their own issues, so it’s best to keep moving.”

Judging by last year’s limited single, ‘Searching’, honesty continues to be the backbone of Speech’s lyrics, as does the willingness to rap autobiographically, even if, musically, ‘The Key’ is a departure from the singer’s goal of “taking Tracy Chapman’s melodies and putting some rapping on them.” Because while ‘Searching’ did just that – acoustic, downbeat, hushed and cathartic – ‘The Key’ is a jaunty pop number with a trio of clarinets entwined around the plods of a double bass.

Momentarily the folk elements of Speech have been replaced by jazz, because Speech loves

‘sound’ over ‘being hip hop’, explaining why the first version of ‘The Key’ was canned due to being too sharp in the kicks; too heavy in the high hats; too… hip hop.

“I mean, I love hip hop,” she explains. “It’s the first music that gave me a sense of being part of something. And hip hop has an effect that’s different to any other music. I remember talking to a friend and he said, ‘hip hop gets you in the neck’, that’s where it hits your body, in the neck, so you have to snap your neck. And it’s very true; hip hop does have a very distinctive effect on the body, and it’s such a skill. I love it. But at the same time I love just… sound, y’know, as opposed to the beat – scores, classical music, atmospheric stuff. I want to be able to do both those because, by default, anything I rap on becomes hip hop.”

A debut album, called ‘Speech Therapy’, is due in May; a collection of songs that are likely to revert to Speech’s acoustic and more poignant style. ‘The Key’ is a brilliant bit of light-footed fun, but the Tracy Chapman goal still applies. And besides, nothing accompanies personal poetry like acoustic instruments, and both personal and poetry is what ‘Speech Therapy’ is made up of – “I started writing in primary school and then changed into rapping in secondary school. I didn’t do music for a while; it was just writing in my room as an expression, it wasn’t for an audience. Those songs that I wrote at that time have become this album now, which is why they sound quite personal.”

Da Brat is whom Speech cites as her primary influence, with DMX and Tupac quickly in tow.

“When I listened to them it sounded like they wrote for the same reason that I did,” she says, before explaining how a writing trip to Australia has helped her style stand out from other UK hip hop acts.

“I was saying the other day that a lot of people in the UK

sound exactly the same, and the fact that I went to Australia really helped. Hip hop written in the UK… it’s always grey here and cold, so to leave that and go somewhere sunny and warm, it changes your whole vibe. A lot of people that do hip hop music are usually people that feel like they’re stuck in a rut, so if you get to travel to places it helps. If you don’t do something, you spend a lot of time – especially when you’re with people that are similar – just sat down moaning.

Especially being young and being black, that’s what we do, and we do it well. And out of that come some great philosophies – I met some people when I was 18/19 who could have been the greatest philosophers on the new age – but also out of that you can feel so suppressed.”

Never count it out, but for now didgeridoo’s remain uninvited to the emotional sound of Speech Debelle. She may have adhered to every Oz stereotype on her travels for all we know, but being British remains the most important influence on her music, which means that James Blunt is okay by her.

“Absolutely, the UK’s important to me,” she passionately nods. “I want to be like Tracy Chapman and also a hip hop version of Coldplay. I think there’s something really good about English bands. Band s like Coldplay, and even James Blunt, there’s something so unpolished about them. It’s not too American where everything is very slick.”

Speaking to Speech, she’s refreshingly un-self-righteous.

To drop James Blunt and the equally unfashionable Coldplay isn’t to be ironic, or to send out a feet-stamping message that she’s not hip hop, because she knows that she is. But, having patiently waited three years for Big Dada to offer her the deal she wanted, she seems to be wholly uninterested in pleasing anyone but herself. Luckily, she seems to have pleased the park police as well.

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Graffiti island Credit Crunch-ed out? Here’s the louche holiday destination of the year Writer: Ian roebuck Photographer: Simon Leak

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An intense heat permeates the tropical air as a volcano rumbles evocatively around the wide expansive shores of Graffiti Island. Sounds like a pretty special place to be this time of year, but an East London cafe will do for now. Looking seriously relaxed after a newyear break, Pete Donaldson (vocals), Conan Roberts (bass/ guitars) and Cherise Payne (drums) have been gallivanting off to locations that typify senses and feelings that their band’s name evokes. Born in LA, the loose, lucid conversationalist Pete spent some time there over Christmas before shooting off to New Zealand. Cherise’s nomadic nature found her arriving in Mexico with no place to stay, and Conan, well, he just stayed in London – “I’m English through and through,” the articulate guitarist lends with good humour.

A multi-cultural threesome, the band are less informed by where they come from, it’s more about the ambience they create.

“I don’t think musically we are influenced by America or London,” says Cherise; an outlook that seems to fit with their inception having formed simply through boredom and wanting to hear music they actually liked. And

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so a languid, comfortable style emanates through the band as Cherises’ propulsive drums ebb and flow with Conan’s rhythmical string work, but it’s Pete’s vocals that make Graffiti Island electrifying. His deadpan delivery entices you in with a nonchalant style; acid sharp wit and an almost mantra like repetitiveness combining to make Graffiti Island truly unique.

Clearly just as sharp off the stage as on, Pete peppers small talk with equally dry material as his lyrics. “We are never really aware of people coming to see us, in my mind they just happen to be there having a nice time,” he drawls, even if they do have an audience, found via the Internet. “We have had a lot of interest from other countries on the internet,” admits Cherise. “Our sound isn’t English, probably because of the stuff we listen to and Pete’s voice is obviously not English.”

“I think with English bands the audience are more inclined to look at what’s going on in major music magazines rather than looking on the internet,” adds Conan. “Underground music seems harder to find here.”

When it comes to the World Wide Web, the threesome seem well within their comfort zone.

Keeping in theme with the exotic

band name, Pete used to write a blog entitled ‘Voodoo Village’; a sideways look at outsider art and freaks of nature. Conan’s love for the arcane now thrives on the web too – “I think blogs are awesome, they are like fanzines used to be. The next generation has seized it now and it’s become socially acceptable.” And it’s here where the band’s love of imagery has a chance to flourish.

A glance at Myspace or the Voodoo Village will leave you bewildered, whether it’s a one armed baby Nazi or a 90-year old wrestler from Russia, the pictures are powerful. OK, so I made these up but the unfathomable nature of this imagery has a mood all to itself. This esoteric attitude is not without good humour and much of it finds its way into the music. “When I write my lyrics I am always thinking about imagery,” says Pete. “I have an idea in my head about what I am seeing; it’s like a certain taste.”

Animals must preoccupy much of Pete’s thoughts, in that case, because a beastly ambience is omnipresent throughout. Song names like ‘Wolf Guy’, ‘Pet Snake’ and ‘Demonic Cat’ linger with you long after the tracks have stopped – “Obviously I like

animals, writing about them, singing about them, touching them and whatever.”

For a guitar band especially, Graffiti Island is an original prospect; not even your archetypal release band, proved as they made there own cassette with two like-minded artists: the excellent ‘Pens’ and ‘Male Bonding’. With each band doing their own artwork (Pete drew a diagram of a human head) distribution began at selected record shops and gigs and even the method of production was faintly underground.

“I got given 300 cassettes; I just took them without thinking,” explains Conan. “It didn’t cost a thing and it was real DIY. We made 10 tapes and sent them to a New York record store but apparently all the music was backwards and on the wrong side of the tape – we couldn’t have got it more wrong!”

And with the band kicking back as we drift back to Graffiti Island what would soundtrack the surf for each of the trio?

“Brian Eno’s ‘Here come the warm jets’ no question,” answers Cherise. “Anything by The Vaselines for me,” adds Pete.

“Blink 182, ‘Dude Ranch’,” adds Conan. “I’ll be having much more fun than you two.”

The golden filter The New York duo leading us into an Italo Disco world where everything shines

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Writer: Stuart Stubbs

“Oh, for fucks sake!” throws up blonde Oz coo-er Penelope, her partner-in-shine having broken rule 1 of this interview. “We don’t really go into our previous band,” she’d adamantly stated at the beginning of our chat. “We’re not talking about the past too much… in a good way.” And now the second of two Golden Filters, Stephen, has begun discussing recent debut single, ‘Solid Gold’, as, “technically part of our last band…”. It’s enough to put a girl off her yoga, which is exactly what the singer tells us she is incorporating into our time together; them in their New York base, snow falling around them as if on a continual Home Alone film set, us in a dark, dank London that stenches more of a glum Albert than glitzy Times Square. Which is the exact reason we’re calling The Golden Filter – we’re in need of some powerful escapism.

“You’ve hit the nail on the head,” says Penelope brightly.

“I think everybody is looking for something that’s not reality. [Our music] is definitely about having fun, and escapism.”

“Band’s definitely take themselves too seriously,” continues Stephen. “Rock bands that are serious, like Coldplay,

I’m so bored by that. I don’t wanna diss anybody so…”

Penelope: “You just did.”

Stephen: “Yeah, but I don’t think that’s going to have too much of an effect on us.”

Great, so we’ve dialled the right number for the realityfudging hotline (read as ‘right Skype address’ – talking at a metallic MacBook is the only suitable way to get hold of a band as technology savvy as this cosmic pair), now what about this single that we can’t stop playing?

“We thought, ‘let’s try it one last time, see if this works out’,” explains Stephen of his and Penelope’s first song as a duo; the same track that Dummy Records release this month. “The song didn’t sound like our other band at all. It was kind of, ‘this is it, if this doesn’t work out we quit.’”

“We were actually on tour with our other project and all we were doing was listening to that song,” laughs Penelope.

Stephen: “And we actually cancelled half our shows and were like, ‘fuck this project.’”

Penelope [mimicking a time when she was sick of her old band]: “I’m not driving to Alabama, no way.”

And so Stephen and Penelope’s first band together was no longer

for them, so much so that, as we now know, the pair refuse to even divulge their name. All we know is that they were “a little punky, electro deal – a bit more like Heartsrevolution”.

“When we met, we were both really into photography and films and stuff like that,” says Stephen “and then we were like, ‘oh, we can both play music’. I discovered she could sing and I was making music so we started that band and that lived for a while and then we started another band, and that’s The Golden Filter.”

Before meeting, separately, the pair “went through rave phases”, followed by “weird psychedelic ones”, prompting Stephen to avoid banding the overused ‘fate’ phrase around while admitting that he feels he and Penelope have “pretty identical music tastes.” And their joint love for imagery, photography and film has only added to the sense of adventure and abandonment felt whilst listening to The Golden Filter “Follow the golden fox,” purrs Penelope to the pulsing disco of ‘Solid Gold’, as we scramble out into those dark dank suburban streets in search of the glistening rodent; “through the golden door,” she continues to deep synths, us hypnotised

listeners convinced that we saw one of those the other day. It’s The Golden Filter’s dream of escapism swiftly realised, at the hands of electronic pop music.

“We’re not pop,” says Penelope, despite ‘pop’ being what everyone wants to be right now.

“We are, we’re totally pop,” interjects Stephen. “Everything that people have called us so far is pretty applicable, y’know, like new disco, and obviously some people say we’re new romantic like Visage and stuff like that, which is cool.

And pop’s fine to me.”

Whatever it is, there’s plenty more where ‘Solid Gold’ came from, including the seductive and sparse ‘Favourite Things’, and the sweet, whispering Italo Disco of ‘Hide It’, all set to lift us from our daily drudgeries as soon as the band find a label to release their already completed album.

“In the year we’d like to set up home with a label,” says Stephen of immediate plans. “Releasing our album would be amazing. It’s finished, it just needs a home.”

Follow us if you like. We’re hot-footing it after a golden fox, through a golden door where everything looks better with a golden filter.

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Label Profile

Like no other label, BECAUSE...

How one man took his experience from the majors to create a record company for which financial profit is a secondary concern

Writer: Danny Canter Illustration:WWW.ELBOWDESIGNS.CO.UK

Oh shit, we’ve been found out. All of us! Quick, hide your shoegaze t-shirts; discard your nu-goth satchel; dump your limited screamo 7”s. Now Wikipedia Metronomy, Justice, Uffie, Kap Bambino and all other Because bands; this French label is on to our British slackness. “The journalists tend to be a lot more read up on the artists,” exposes Jane Third, head of Because Music UK. “Y’know, they spend a bit more time with it than here. And also over there people are far less scene driven – it’s far more song driven.”

Jane herself isn’t a Parisian sent to London to panic us shallow, scene-lusters, but a Brit herself, sharing her noted differences between music here and on the other side of the Channel. More than qualified to uncover just how comparatively under-researched the UK media is, Jane spends nearly as much time commuting to the French capital as most of us do on the tube around town.

“There’s good sides and bad sides on both,” she continues.

“The French music scene is really progressive on the electronic side of things, and always has been, but when it comes to bands and ‘indie’, they’re a little bit behind us in the UK.They like The Strokes and White Stripes and garage, whereas that’s died a bit over here. It’s a grass is greener thing – we think Paris is amazing and Parisians think London is.”

Founded by one-time head of Virgin/EMI Europe and UK, Emmanuel DeBuretel, Because Music is like few other labels that are completely independent.With the exception of Beggars Banquet, its size is unheard of, with headquarters in Paris and a London office in an unassuming converted townhouse in Notting Hill. In reception, a four feet high picture of Bob Marley hangs, presumably owned by the publishing company on the top floor of the building; a boutique operation owned by Chris Blackwell, founder of

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Island Records and continuing publisher to U2.

Similarly, Because Music UK – situated on the ground floor of the grand, white building – is a small operation with big ideas, continuing DeBuretel’s mission to support the underdog and help smaller labels compete on an international scale. “When you’re an indie, licensing music in other countries is really admin heavy and difficult,” says Jane “and so [Emmanuel] took The Label System model – an international headquarters for indie labels, which he’d set up – and started Because.”

Today, this Label System that Jane speaks of is perhaps best illustrated by Co-Operative Music – an umbrella group to Wichita,V2, Moshi Moshi, Dance To The Radio and more – but as Because started 6 years ago, DeBuretel proved his model effective by supporting Ed Banger Records to begin with, allowing Busy P’s small label to snowball as Justice especially turned indie kids into dance heads all over Europe.

And it’s exactly how Jane got involved, releasing the likes of Twisted Charm, Kap Bambino and New Young Pony Club on her own label, Alt. Delete, with the helping hand of the label she now heads.

The UK arm of the label is also stretching out since signing Metronomy last year to push Because UK on from being a promotional outlet to a fully formed team of producers. Kap Bambino have recently signed for a full album deal also, much to the excitement of Jane and her handful of staff (in reality it’s even less than a handful) who will no longer simply market a fully formed product but oversee it’s creation from beginning to end, such are the joys of not working for a major label. Ah, yes, major labels, they always have to be discussed when in the presence of indies, but Jane’s been there, done that, almost quit music altogether as a result.

Those were the frustrating days before she found an ally in DeBuretel, with whom a simple philosophy is shared – “respect all music”.

“Our roster is really international,” enthuses Jane. “We wouldn’t say World Music, because that isn’t a good term I don’t think.We have French artists, Spanish artists, Swedish artists, artists from Mali, and we like to give them all a fair chance internationally. Metronomy are doing really well in different countries because we’ve put a lot of work into that, so we think of ourselves as an internationally minded indie.”

It’s the deals that really set Because apart though; showing confidence in their signings more than the snatch-happy 360 agreements (within which labels expect 10 percent of everything – live ticket sales, merch revenue etc – without putting anything in themselves) found at most record companies.

“We usually sign complete deals, but all elements are negotiable,” explains Jane. “But if a band come with us on the live side, we invest in that side of things like we do the records.That’s how we’ve managed to get all of these expensive rigs for Justice shows.That obviously lost a lot of money in the beginning but it was an investment.”

So it’s Because that we need to thank for that giant flashing crucifix and the 10 metre high walls of amps either side of Gaspard Augé and Xavier de Rosnay. And, equally, it’s the label’s support that’s meant Kap Bambino’s first ever video shoot was shot on the James Bond set, with the duo flying about on wires. Metronomy could probably even claim back those pound shop lights if they’ve kept the receipts, and where else Because Music and their bands can go is anybody’s guess. Don’t ask us, we’ve got homework to do whilst weeping over a smouldering pile of Nu Rave memorabilia.

In the name of Justice 3 Because artists that don’t ‘D.A.N.C.E’ but are also worth your ear

Amadou & Mariam Welcom To Mali It’s not in English, Damon Albarn guest-produces – and guest stars – and it’s called ‘Welcome To Mali’, but this is far from being ‘World Music’ in the conventional sense. From the opening ‘Sabali’, programmed with spaceship synths that beam up Mariam’s high chirps (rather Sigur Roslike) to the reggae bounce of ‘Djama’, it’s clear why this was number 2 in The Guardian’s 2008 end of year poll.

Fredo Viola The Turn It makes total sense that Fredo Viola should live in Woodstock these days – he does, after all, create the sort of cooing indie that sounds, in part, like the acid-scoffing daydreams of Arthur Lee & Love (‘The Turn (a Pagan Lament)’). Born in London, but ultimately an American, he also pulls in Belle & Sebastian (‘The Original Man’) and more than a tad of Sufjan Stevens on his debut album, out this spring.

Pascal Comelade The No Dancing France’s Pascal Comelade has been making music for 34 years, but this ‘Best Of’ spans from the early 1990s to 2007, documenting Comelade’s most acoustic works. Largely plinking and plonking through ukulele instrumentals, with xylophones and accordions giving off an authentic, European air, this is probably where Beirut pinched most of his best ideas from.

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Wet paint One Economy Wolf + Three Absentees = Pavement-challenging brilliance

Writer: danielle goldstein Photographer: simon leak Perched on a step, a fireplace and a tiny creaking cabinet, the three members of Wet Paint that we’ve managed to corner are contemplating what to say in their first interview. Of course, with three of them branching off from the baritone twee rockers, Absentee, and one plucked from Economy Wolf you’d think they’d be comfortable with the press, but their faces reveal nervous smiles and their fingers fiddle with hems of garments.

Barely touching on two years since their formation, they’re already prepared to release their debut album, ‘It Rots’, and have bagged a tour with Bloc Party. “For us it’s just, I don’t know, lucky; perfect really,” says drummer, Melinda Bronstein from behind her NHS specs, while grisly-haired frontman Babak Ganjei ‘ums’ and ‘ahs’ in thought. “We kind of know them from around the same places,” he stutters. “The thing is, it’s a musical community and we help each other out.”

Not only did Babak go to school with Bloc Party drummer Matt Tong, he also worked at the Soho Curzon cinema with their effervescent vocal maestro, Kele Okereke. So, with the onset of entertaining huge crowds every night, have the butterflies begun multiplying in their stomachs?

“I think they’re perfect gigs to do if you’re first on because there’s a guaranteed crowd of kids,” Babak utters with confidence. “Some of them will have never seen a band and you may be the first. I’ve been there. In my youth we’d go to the front and we weren’t leaving. None of those people are leaving. Actually,” he contemplates, eyes flickering at the thought of a thousands-heavy crowd “it’ll be quite easy.

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It’ll be on a massive stage with a massive PA.” But that doesn’t prevent people booing. “But we’ll have a massive PA. We won’t be able to hear them,” he reiterates as they all have a chuckle and guitarist Laurie Earle feels the need to justify their existence. “Lots of people have a broad musical taste,” he says. “Not everyone who goes to a Bloc Party show is only going to listen to Bloc Party. You’ll pick up some people who are into it and you’ll pick up some who’ll go, ‘Fucking hell, they were a racket’.”

This must mean that Wet Paint grew up on a wide range of music, drawing influences from all over the shop to create the grungy, new wave Pavementinclined pop of ‘It Rots’.

Melinda admits to absorbing a heavy dose of synth-addled Yaz and The Beatles, while Babak tries his best to avoid responding and Laurie confesses to an obsession – “I spent most

“Go for it,” Melinda butts in eagerly.

“Really?” he questions coyly.

“Because the things is… I listened to a lot of Wet Wet Wet and now we’re called Wet Paint and people will think there’s a reason…” Babak trails off dejectedly.

Economy Wolf may have been on break last year and The Bronsteins (Melinda’s third venture) were seeing little action, but with Absentee releasing a single, EP and their third album, ‘Victory Shorts’, the majority of the band have hardly been at a loose end. It’s difficult to imagine how they all found time to fit in yet another project.

“If I’m honest, I always wanted to play loud stuff,” Babak explains. “Then I [had] a baby and it panicked me into actually doing it. [And] we had a shared interest. James [Wignall, bass] was like the happy median between what we

“We record songs, put them out and move on.Who knows, maybe three albums in the year” of my youth listening to Nirvana and nothing else. When I was talking about kids having broad music tastes…” He attempts to continue but he’s cut off by bursts of laughter. Timidly, Babak almost breathes out his love of “Smash Hits pop”.

“See, I had pretty bad musical tastes,” he begins.

“Until I was 12 I listened to a lot of really bad pop, which I’m really embarrassed about. Like… maybe I’ll just leave out…”.

were doing in other bands. He was on the - see he’s not here and I’ll get in trouble to call it shoe gazey – but, he was on one end of the spectrum and we were at the other end with Absentee, and [Wet Paint] is in the middle.” Melinda describes how she got into playing drums for Wet Paint as a favour until it morphed into a full time role. “Loud, live guitar music needs drums to keep it going.

[Babak had] written loads of

songs anyway and I was like, ‘Yeeeeaaahhh, I’ll give it a go’,” she drawls before losing her footing and slipping from her precarious position on the cupboard.

Their Andy Dragazis (Blue States) produced debut was recorded in just two sessions where the band hammered into their instruments without considering the end result. “We didn’t really know that it was going to be an album at the time,” Melinda clarifies. “We just wanted to get all the songs down. Then we suddenly realised, ‘Hey, there’re enough songs here [for an album] - look at that’.

But you can tell that it’s all done at the same time.”

“It’s kind of like going

04 backwards,” interrupts Babak.

“We haven’t held out to get signed before recording a super slick record, we were just going to document everything and then it turned out to be the record.

And in the old days all first albums were - I don’t want to sell it short - but people progressed, the next albums were better and you could hear the developments. Whereas now it seems to be that everyone is putting out the best stuff and then stuttering after two or three albums. So hopefully, this is just a good launch pad.”

A launch pad as good as any it’s full of gentle riffs and mellow vocals contrasted with social and political instances such as school and environmental

issues and the Russian revolution. “There’s quite a lot of culture stuff in there but I tried to hide it all,” Babak enlightens us as he explains the inspirations behind the record.

“I’m quite good at whining and a lot of it is trying to justify that by putting it in songs rather than whining at my girlfriend. And because I’ve always been embarrassed about writing lyrics I used to take films and then try and write words based around them.”

Somewhat borrowing the concept you could say. “Kind of, because then I could always say ‘Oh, well it was that film’ [if criticised].”

And needless to say they all write the tracks together, but

it’s not always a smooth course.

“Sometimes I’ll have written verses and verses and James will say: ‘Scrap that whole part of the song’ and I think: ‘But that’s where all the words are’.

So I have to go back and keep re-jigging. I’m not that precious that I say: ‘No, this has to stay’. I’ll go and…”

“Sulk about it for a bit…” interjects Laurie, grinning as Babak ignores him and continues.

“And then cut it all down and come back. Some songs we nail in a day and other songs - like ‘Save the Whale’, which is one of our oldest songs – went through six different versions in a year.”

So now that they’re ready to hit the roads of the nation,

convincing people of their worth, what are Wet Paint hoping for this year? “Hopefully to just keep going round the country impressing people and then recording more stuff.” Says Babak cheerfully. “We’re already playing new songs. I’ve never had a strategic brain. I’m always ready to whack it out as soon as it’s done. I used to sit in a bed-sit with a little drummachine-four-track-thing recording songs. I would always record them, put them out and move on. So hopefully, who knows, maybe three albums in the year,” he grins enthusiastically. “If someone’s willing to put them out and it doesn’t bankrupt me, I’m happy to do it.”

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Navvy are unashamedly pop, yet compulsively angst ridden. By pooling their collective distaste for the mundane they’ve created one of the most exciting albums ever released by Angular Records. We retreat from the bitter cold into the bowels of a Sheffield pub to discuss the joys of synthesisers, their hatred of ‘cock rock’ and why it’s time move on from New Yorkshire.

Formed in 2003 Navvy met through the vagaries of the Sheffield music scene and adverts posted in local laundrettes.

Featuring Claire Hill on synths and vocals, Keith Jones on vocals and bass and Daffyd ‘Daf’ Spink on guitar, Marie McCulloch was last to join the band on drums, meeting them whilst DJing at a local nightclub.

Debut album, ‘Idyll Intangible’, harks back to a time when bands like Lush and Elastica formed part of the musical landscape. Does that era influence their music?

Claire says: “It’s strange really, but we haven’t got any influences. When Keith writes the songs, he writes the bassline and lyrics, but it’s the sum of all our individual parts, isn’t it? I mean we’re all influenced by different things so when it comes together at the end it’s kind of surprising. I know that we’ve had a lot of Bis comparisons because of the shouty vocals and girl/boy thing…”

“I’m not sure I’ve heard of Bis,” interjects Daf, prompting Claire to sing, “Sugar Sugar Candy Pop, push it down, pull it up.”

2008 was a good year for Navvy, with plaudits flooding in from all over the music press and tours with The Long Blondes and The Noisettes. Together they see last years BBC 6music session with Mark Riley as their first big break, describing it as “a dream come true”. And in March they’re touring the UK, followed by a show to celebrate one year of our own club night in May, Dirty Bingo Vs Loud And Quiet. “I think we’re first on so we can just sound-check, then play, then get really drunk!” enthuses an excited Claire.

In the past they’ve been

compared to bands like Wire, Devo and Pixies. The question of influences is met with silence and a collective furrowing of brows.

“I feel very flattered if we are compared to The Pixies,” says Marie. “I don’t know, it would be nice to think that we sound like The Pixies because I love them.”

“Before I’d been in Navvy I was listening to a lot of early Pulp,” enlightens Claire.

“Separations and all that, so that was an influence on me.

Especially on ‘Disco’, with the driving synths the whole way through.”

Until this point the boys have remained fairly reticent, peering into their drinks, content to let the girls do the talking. Discussion turns to where they fit in alongside the current crop of indie bands and an increasingly celeb/scenesobsessed audience.

Keith answers in barely audible whisper: “I don’t really listen to modern music. I don’t buy magazines or listen to the radio so….”

As he trails off Marie intercedes: “I don’t really know any of the other bands, I don’t really like any of the other bands anyway. I can’t think of anything I’ve come across recently that’s really got me very excited, not like an indie type band or anything like that.”

“We don’t want to fit into a certain mould,” agrees Claire.

“I know there’s New Yorkshire and that’s kind of gone by, it’s a bit in the past now. We don’t purposefully make ourselves difficult to listen to. I think our music could be, but because of what we’ve done with the album, we’ve brought out the pop side of it. So, we do want it to be popular, but without selling out.”

“Of course we want to sell more records,” concludes Marie “but we’ve also got the pop inside us that’s trying to get out!”

After breaking to refill our

drinks it’s clear the question of fitting in still has them vexed. Claire tries a different tack: “I suppose it never really concerned us because at the moment we’ll never have enough records to majorly compete with these big labels anyway, so we just do it for the love really.”

Navvy’s style veers from post punk, almost maudlin sounds, like the eponymous ‘Navvy’, to ‘Robot’s’ bouncy Buzzcocks rant.

Yet lines like, “Real life does not make sense”, in ‘Letters’, and “Don’t try to look for meaning”, in ‘Disco’, always retain the constant undercurrent of dissatisfaction.

“I’ve got quite a small little life so I don’t really watch any TV or read a newspaper,” explains lyricist Keith “so none of those kind of things affect my day to day life, so I tend to worry about… erm…”

Claire interjects, reciting lyrics of the band’s single: “Whether you could go to a Disco or not, because it’s quite temporary, because we put a lot of importance on the superficial, transient things.” Laughing, she looks to Keith. “Do you agree?”

“I don’t know how I ended up being the lyricist anyway,” he replies. “I kinda took the job because I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it. The words are quite important to me anyway.”

Everyone mutters, “Thanks Keith”. Feeling conscious of causing a rift, we move discussion onto the new album.

“Cos we’ve been playing a lot of these songs for a while, I think that the album was an opportunity to get them down and done and sounding really great and I think it did that,” states a proud Marie.

Claire: “I really like the pop aspect of it. It’s kind of unashamedly pop. We wanted to make it enjoyable, so the lyrics are really angsty, but it’s not a morose, depressing listen; it’s upbeat.”

Creatively prolific, all members play in multiple bands, Claire playing keyboard in Slowdown Tallahassee and Daffyd’s excited about his latest band, Sexplosion.

“We’re a very fertile band,” says the guitarist. “We’ve all got side projects and things

coming out.”

“We can’t be idle really,” adds Claire. “We’re not happy unless we’re in freezing practice rooms at least 3 or 4 nights a week!”

With the boys huddled together discussing album artwork, the topic of the current music scene resurfaces.

“Don’t The View have an album called ‘Which Bitch?’” exclaim Daf. “Since when do indie bands call albums that? It’s shit!”

Marie: “I was reading in the Guardian about bands like Scouting For Girls and The Twang and that kind of ‘cock rock’, absolute lager bollocks! I think it’s kind of turned it full circle that the top tips for 2009 are all electro girls, because people are absolutely hating that kind of bullshit and now they’re going for things like Little Boots and La Roux.

It’s kind of like the antithesis of that kind of horrendous… churning out that kind of shit, it’s unbelievable!”

There are some bands out there that don’t feel compelled to heap scorn on. Marie confesses to “playing Justice’s record to death”, Daf extols the virtues of Crystal Stilts, Deerhunter and Titus Andronicus, Claire’s listening to The B52s and folk acts like Au Revoir Simone, Coco Rosie and Joanna Newsom.

As yet there are no festivals on the cards, but 2009 already looks bright for Navvy, even if the band don’t know it. “We haven’t really thought that far ahead,” says Claire. “I think we’re going to just do the whole thing with the album and then discuss the next step. I’ll keep listening to those Pulp CDs, getting ideas.”

Navvy Influenced by no one; sounding like all the best bits of Pulp, Bis and young slack-pop Writer: Kate PARKIN www.loudandquiet.com

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To for After a false start, Video Nasties retreated to their practice shed, formed a record label and spread the wings of their mighty Albatross Writer: stuart stubbs Photographer: tim cochrane

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... little more than a gentle nudge was needed for Seymour. Insisted by Andy Ross – the then chief A&R for Food Records – that name had to go for starters, and the newly christened Blur couldn’t continue down this sloppy noise-punk route either.Their live shows were embarrassingly incompetent; their songs void of charm and tune in equal measures. So 19 years ago Blur ‘went baggy’, wrote ‘Leisure’ and today Damon Albarn travels the world first class to promote Chinese operas that feed his monkey fetish.

The Libertines needed a push too. As The Strokes arrived it was out with skiffle and in with leather jackets and Clash sensibilities – a smart move by their pushy management, without whom Pete and Carl would have never signed a deal, even if Doherty has now sloped back to his Steptoe yard to play ‘Roll Out The Barrel’ on a rusty radiator once more.

Back to The Sex Pistols and even The Beatles it stretches: our great bands being sculpted by greater businessmen and businesswomen, experts in PR, convincing artists to alter their sound for the greater good. And now Video Nasties have gone through a sizeable change, from a perfectly average indie band to the five-piece that resurfaced at the end of 2008 with the brilliant ‘Albatross’ EP. Except no Malcolm McClaren has frogmarched this band to their bold new sound, because if Video Nasties are interested in impressing one record label it’s their own.

“The one lesson we’ve learnt is that no one will ever say ‘no’ to you,” explains keyboardist George. “No label or manager or press person will just say ‘no’ and give you a straight answer.”

“That’s why it’s nice putting our album out ourselves,” adds guitarist Harry. “There’s a lot of bullshit in the music industry with just the way people talk to each other, like the fact that A&Rs are professional friends who are employed to befriend you in order to sign you, but they’re not your friends, they’re just telling you what you want to hear.There’s way too much of that, so it’s nice to be working with just us.”

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Video directors are quashed (drummer Max takes care of that, having created ‘Albatross’’s promo film), producers are redundant (frontman James is responsible there, producing the band’s debut album himself), artwork and merch designers are worthless (blame bassist Joe). Unless they desire it,Video Nasties needn’t speak to anyone outside of their close camp, so when this band returned in December ’08, sounding like we never thought them capable, there can’t have been any preconceived thought behind it from higher echelons, just the players that have “been evolving behind the scenes.”

“I’ve always thought that we were always this band,” says chief songwriter James “but from the stuff we’ve released it hasn’t always seemed like that. For me, we’ve always been that, we’ve always had this side to us.”

Harry: “I think we all agree that the ‘Albatross’ EP, and how the album sounds, is all how we should sound but before that we were always finding our way a little.”

“Yeah, we’ve always been a little confused,” interjects Max. “It’s never felt as natural as this but we just went ‘bang’ in three or four weeks and didn’t worry about it.”

A turning point for Video Nasties came just before the band started to write their album, due for release this April, entitled ‘On All Fours’. Between touring with Late Of The Pier and battening down the studio hatches for the summer, as Harry puts it: “There was a point where we collectively thought, ‘right, we don’t care about outside influences anymore, we’re just going to write what we want.’”

Seemingly, what the band wanted to write were tracks more dynamic, more unpredictable and more ambitious than ever.

Until ‘Albatross’, their most assured boast was their limited single ‘Karl Blau’ – a straight-up, charging indie-punk joint about being friends with the little-known folk minimalist.

Today, it’s a snarling number that rages with hardcore tom drums and desperate, delusional cries that reference an impressive sea bird, followed by a polar opposite middle

section, musically akin to The Charlatans circa ‘the good days’, vocally all slurring, half spoken and meandering home for a sob.

“There’s a lot of desperation in it,” confirms James, the song’s author. “And there is in the album too, definitely in some of the vocal deliveries and song content.There’s a lot of darkness. I think the album’s quite dark.”

“But it’s not all two-minute punk songs,” offers Joe. “Y’know, there’s that louder side to each song but they’re all a lot more developed and a bit more mature maybe.”

Max: “We always meant for ‘Albatross’ to be quite fun, but the rest of the record isn’t quite so… quirky.”

These less-quirky tracks include the heavily distorted, down-tempo ‘Old Flowers’, which must have been what The Killers were trying for when going through their Cure phase, and the sonic ‘Teenage Celebration’, morphing from fuzzy Ramones punk into a punch-drunk Joy Division chorus that speaks of radio waves, only to have its life snubbed out by theatrical funeral organs and final pleas of James rasping, “won’t you come back to my house?”. Certainly not the work of a ‘perfectly average indie band’.

W

e meet Video Nasties 24 hours before their Helvetica tour of the UK. In 16 days time they’ll have played 14 nearly consecutive shows with touring partners Swanton Bombs and The Threatmantics. In Brick Lane’s Vibe Bar, before our photo shoot calls for us to trudge the winter streets of east London – we’re not alone, countless others are being simultaneously snapped for fashion and music articles outside bagel shops – James, Max, Harry, George and Joe are fine company to keep, relaxed if clearly eager to get back to playing live again, consistently.

“We’re very excited,” enthuses Max from beneath a blonde mop of curls. “It’s been a long time since we played any consecutive

dates.”

“We were recording pretty much the whole of the summer last year,” adds Joe “and have since been mixing and mastering, and all of that. I’d be happiest if we weren’t always on tour but were always playing gigs.”

Max: “You get a bit lost in the studio.You start to forget what playing live is like, and what the whole point of being a band is about. And it’s going to be great,” he nods to each of his band-mates “It’s going to be really fun.”

Previously,Video Nasties have completed laps of the British Isles in tow of Late Of The Pier. But Helvetica is different. Playing forums with electro bands to electro fans was never meant for a garage (read as ‘shed’, seeing as the band practice in James and Max’s parents’ wooden garden shack) band like this. Rotating running orders with touring partners, between Barflys, established cubbyholes and bars, is far more fitting, and yet the band are confident that they may have impressed enough neon faces in their past to pull worthwhile crowds in certain towns.

“It’s kinda funny,” says Joe “because we have certain towns where people seem to really like us and then others where people definitely don’t.We played a gig in Oxford last year that was really good for no apparent reason. Everybody was really into it…”

“Tunbridge Wells is always good,” remembers Max “Newcastle’s not so good.”

And are you playing Newcastle on this tour?

“Oh yes!” chuckle the band in unison, defiant in the face of being proven wrong by any major city in the country.

Now, you might fancy Newcastle’s chances as the victor in this battle – 3 million Vs 5, an’ all – but when Max and James formed Video Nasties they did so with one month to play their first gig – think feel-good Justine Lee Collins project without the face foliage.

“It started with me and my brother playing in our parents’ shed,” explain James “and then we kinda got a gig before we had a band, because we said we had a band to this venue.

So we thought, ‘right, we need to get one together’. So then we wrote some songs and

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“

Female singer/ songwriters are all so boring.

They think they’re quirky, but they’re not, because they’re all quirky”

got George and Harry, which is how we played our first gig.We went through periods of either not having a bassist or letting someone else play bass, and then Joe joined a year later.We had a month. I’d written some songs before, so we had a few songs, but we didn’t have a band.”

Max hadn’t particularly taken the drums seriously until then either, but the pair – soon a four – managed, simply having known some friends in bands and deciding “we could do that, that’d be fun.”

But within this crusade against an unconvinced northern city, or any crusade for that matter, what really swings the odds Video Nasties’ way is Dead Again; the record label that the band have forged themselves, a reminder of the band’s commitment to making their music and making it heard.

“We definitely wanted to have complete control over it,” says Max of why the label exists, perhaps hinting at why a onceplanned single with Parlophone never happened. “We want to record it ourselves, do artwork ourselves and it kind of made sense to go on from that. James produced and then we thought, ‘why don’t we release it?’”

“It was a natural thing to form a label for ourselves,” continues Joe. “It’s not like we want control because we think we can do everything the best way, it just feels more normal.There’s no people saying, ‘oh, you have to release this song for radio’, or that we have to write songs in a certain way.This way we can release an album, and then another album, and have a career, instead of releasing an album and if it doesn’t sell well you get dropped, which is happening to a lot of bands at the moment. So we want a career, not an album. And, especially on a debut album, I think it’s a big statement.This is our album; we’ve made all of the decisions. If it sucks, we suck. If it’s good, maybe we’re good, but at least people will know what we’re about from this album.”

“I think how we’re doing it is how other bands will start doing it now,” says James, prompting conversation to turn to the current state of the music industry, an issue

that Max feels optimistic about… providing you’re any good.

“I still think if you’re a good band and you make good records you can do alright and make a career for yourselves,” he says with an adamant tone. “I don’t think you need to lose you integrity by things like Guitar Hero or whatever.Y’know, if you’re a good band you’ll be successful. It’s as simple as that.”

“Metallica doing Guitar Hero, I’m not that surprised by it,” says an unimpressed James.

Max: “They sued Napster, didn’t they. I find that pathetic!”

Lars Ulrich, your short rump is on the list, directly beneath Newcastle and one space above female singer/songwriters (“They’re all so boring,” says Max “and the thing is that they think they’re quirky, but they’re not, because they’re all quirky”), all in need of the emotional yet heavy new sound of Video Nasties. Lad-Rockers would be on there too if they weren’t already dead in the water (“It can be hard to make guitars sound interesting,” says James “because these lad rock bands are definitely having trouble with it. Hammering chords to make them sound different is hard to do”), which is where Video Nasties halt their irks, even if they do struggle to list what they favour in the current musical climate.

“We’re feeling slightly bleak about [current music],” confesses James. “We’ve been thinking about putting on a gig and thinking about what bands could headline above us and what bands could support us, and we’re drawing a blank.”

“There’s a struggle for British bands at the moment,” winces an agreeing Max. “I mean, I think the best music is coming out of America at the moment. I hate to say it but it is.”

Harry: “It feels like in a year or two there could be a wave of angry, disillusioned groups but it hasn’t really happened yet.

Everyone’s saying that British music is shit, and it is, so what would be a great thing this year is if we break through into the right peoples’ heads that want to be in bands.

That’s the best type of band to be.”

”

A snappier summation will be needed for people to band around whilst praising, slating and discussing Video Nasties though, and indie punk sounds about right. Or new wave.

Or, on account of the emotions and insecurities found within James’ lyrics – often swathed in distorted walls of guitars and subtle keys from George – post punk maybe. Or post post-punk.

“People always call us lo-fi, which is a little bit… y’know,” grimaces Max once more.

“If people could stop calling us a teenage band, that’d be nice,” says George “because we’re all in our twenties now.”

“I think the album does sound quite lo-fi,” counters James, adding “I don’t think DIY is the right word but it’s how we sound live.”

And then Harry wades in to put an end to this pondering: “People hearing [the album] will think that it sounds likes a debut album, but in the best possible way. Like when bands make their first record and they just have to put it all down, and it sounds really exciting.

I think that’s what it sounds like.”

James’ denial of a DIY tag may well seem unjustified coming from the leader of a band so heavily involved in everything they create, but Harry’s right about how exciting Video Nasties sound these days, and how much ‘On All Fours’ sounds like a debut album. Urgent and desperate, it’s got a sense of want shared with ‘Definitely Maybe’, and that record turned out okay.

L

ast night we played the best gig of our lives,” grins George, supping at the pitiful rider that’s welcomed Video Nasties’ back to London. “There were four girls at the front that really liked us.” Unfortunately, at this Shea-Stadium-of-a-show, in Wolverhampton, these four girls were the entire audience. Not that the band care.Tonight’s Cargo stint, a stop in Brighton, one final hurrah in Kingston, and the Helvetica tour is done.

And it’s been “a hell of a lot of fun”, firmly bonding Video Nasties with splitter-van

brethren The Threatmantics and Stanton Bombs as all three bands have entered combat in PS2 tournaments and raved to the flickering strip lights of their vehicle.

On Cargo’s merch table, amongst t-shirts, badges and the last remaining copies of ‘Albatross’, is a black and white fanzine, pieced together by Joe, a reminder of just how productive and self-sufficient this band are;Video Nasties’ headline set beneath the east London venue’s arches, a recap of their new sonic sound.

At points there’s hints of the naïve Nasties that were, the instantly excitable ‘Jellybean’ aiming for early Strokes and not falling too short as James’ vocals drawl from the overdriven PA. At other times Phil Specktor walls of sounds arrive; grandiose, theatrical statements that soundtrack Joe wrestling his bass (that’s how it seems when he achieves his goal of playing as fast as he can), Harry striking guitar hero poses and James arching his head, cockerel-like to the crows he lets out.When not leaping from his monitor and bashing his keyboard, George is found knelt beside Max, barking lyrics in his face, as if the motivational boxing trainer to a fighter slumped in the corner between rounds.

The aggression onstage couldn’t be further from how Video Nasties appear around a picnic table, huddled in a circle of Vibe Bar sofas or trudging winter streets of east London on photo shoots. “So what that there were only four people at last night’s show,” they notably think “it’s better than three.”

Joe: “Hopefully on the next tour a couple more people will come and we’ll play to more than half empty rooms.”

Max: “To be fair, I think we’ve all been quite happy with half empty rooms.”

Joe: “I’ve enjoyed this tour much more than having been on tour with Late Of The Pier and playing forums. I’d much rather do this again than that again because it’s just difficult to play what we play to a bunch of electro fans.”

Klaxons, you’re on the list.

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27

O. chi ld ren

Thought that this band wanted to be Joy Division?

Nah, they want to dance on the grave of Nick Cave

Writer: edgar smith Photographer: owen richards

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S

omeone – who probably a fashion industry type – once said that first impressions are everything. They were wrong of course, and in their blind saunter through contemporary culture they would have missed out on a great deal, including O. Children. Actually, they would have probably booked O. Children for a photo shoot, but potential fans that only glance at this band might hastily dismiss them as vacuous, notalent hipsters. In fact, their past and present youth scene connections, and great taste in clothes, belie a sprawling frame of reference and a natural aptitude for songwriting. It’s quite surprising that, sounding ace and looking cool for eight or so months, Tobi (vocals), Gauthier (guitar), Harry (bass) and Andy (drums) haven’t already been fired out of the hype cannon into the cosmos. That time is on its way, but for now they sit in the offices of a management company that are “just helping out”, explaining how they started and how those currently banding their name about are getting it wrong.

“It started off with me, after like a hiatus of not

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make music that you genuinely love.

“See, from being in Bono Must Die and previous band (shortlived but totally awesome) The Go Naturals, I realised that if you really believe your hype and take yourself that seriously and think you’re making something so unbelievably new and good, and all your friends are too, and you’re very one sided about the whole thing, it will completely eat you up and you’ll be spat out and it will crash and burn, most definitely.”

“The only reason we live in east London is that we can’t afford to live anywhere else,” insists Andy, but there are reasons other than their postcode for people pinning O. Children to the wave of postpunk/gothic shoegaze/whatever’s washing about at present. One is the assertion that they move with the post-Control flock Tobi just described. “Have you heard this whole thing?” he asks “they’re like, ‘Oh yeah those guys really sound like Joy Division’. Listen to the songs, they sound nothing like Joy Division! Yeah! If anything it’s more New Order.”

“Joy Division came after the

making music – ‘cause I hated making music – and kind of getting the itch again,” says Tobi. “I recorded general ideas and put them up on Myspace, as you do, and people seemed to get into it so I set out looking for people. Luckily me and Harry already knew each other (we met while bonding to Rage Against The Machine) and I met Gauthier through friends.” Fourth member and man with the sticks, Andy, came with Tobi from previous enterprise Bono Must Die; a band with potential that was eventually drowned in London shite gossip pages, legal issues and its own persistent sarcasm.

This affiliation has caused a few problems for the band as they try to escape from a selfcongratulating scene that’s put away its luminous pink squid outfit, donned black and an intimate knowledge of Bauhaus.

“We got ourselves pigeonholed in this scene and then tried to get out of it,” says Gauthier. “Now, I think the good thing would be that we don’t recreate a new scene but that more and more bands just get away from the whole pigeonholing thing.”

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“I don’t like it at all,” adds Harry. “I personally think there’s not enough good bands in that scene, I really don’t think there’s much quality. There are a lot of great new bands, but they’re not part of this scene, and you don’t have to be.”

Tobi, as you’d expect from a man whose vigorously musical teens spanned the mid-part of this decade, gives a pretty good analysis of recent guitar-pop history and some life lessons for any would-be pop careerists: “After that film Control came out – and this has nothing to do with us by the way, ha ha – I saw this kind of flux of people that I’d known from previous bands, that were making new rave before and Libertines ‘indie, indie’ music before that, always changing and changing and changing. And in a way I, not them, could have been accused of doing that… But I realise now that if you do that you’ll be chasing your tail for a long time. I’m not saying run away from it and don’t conform, I’m just saying it’s good to 1. not take yourself too seriously because you never know where the hell you’re going to go and 2.

name, is a shared passion for Nick Cave, a man/phenomenon you feel they could talk about for hours. “The thing is, I think you just look at him and go ‘he’s fucking cool,’” Gauthier marvels. “Also, the range of music that Nick Cave has made throughout his career – from the raw Birthday Party stuff to what he does now with the Bad Seeds – that’s the thing that we try to do; to not focus on one particular style because at the end of it, we like pop, and pop in the way that it’s so wide and varied and has so many origins.” “‘What a Baddass’, we say to ourselves, ‘what a Baddass,’” agrees Tobi “and that is what we are here to do; we’re here to emulate and – risky as it sounds – almost, take over from him.

We’re gonna be the guys that take over Nick Cave and dance on his grave, his Children. O. Children.” It’s an absurd boast but it’s a sign of genuine selfbelief, something they deserve having recorded their storming demos on a Mac, using only its built-in microphone and a midi keyboard.

“This is why we really wanna get in a proper studio,” says Andy who for now is keeping the

“Believe your hype and it will completely eat you up and you’ll be spat out, most definitely” punk thing,” adds Harry “ and it was really rock-y and punk-y as opposed to a more electronic, kind of 80s chorus-y sound.”

Though the band do acknowledge the influence of a whole bunch of post-punk artists, they also name check Lee Hazelwood, Donna Summer and Heaven 17 and are keen to define themselves as writers of pop, working to make something tuneful. “When you really think about it,” says Tobi “we are kind of melodic, more thoughtout pop with just the edge of our influences. We listen to music and we’re not influenced by the sound so much as the art form, the way it’s made. We are trying to mould something that’s slightly special.”

What has made the biggest impact on them, obviously present in their sound and their

band alive with a job in a clothes shop “cause if people like the demos, where Tobi’s talking to a computer screen, then with a proper microphone they’d be blown away. We wanna be bigger, like we wanna have a bigger sound production than we can afford. We’re just doing what we can with what we have”.

What would they do if someone bankrolled this ambition?

Andy: “We’d probably get a mean synth player.”

“Or some samplers here and there, drum pads”, says Tobi.

“As we progress we’re gonna get a lot more funky with our sound.

We want to work on something we feel we can give our heart and soul to and it turns out it’s this. What we’re saying is that in two months… we’re going to blow you away. That’s basically it.”

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Al bums

The Prodigy Invaders Must Die (Record Label)

By Stuart Stubbs. In stores Feb 23

08/10

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That James Rushent of Does It Offend You, Yeah? is rumoured to have co-produced ‘Invaders Must Die’’s title track is irrelevant.The fact that such an idea is even plausible is what’s initially damning of The Prodigy’s fifth studio album – Liam Howlett invented this rock/rave shtick and now he seemingly needs a hand from the kids he inspired to remain relevant today. It’s certainly one way of looking at the opening gambit here, all pulsing and whip-cracking electrified cables to a high pitched synth riff; a descendent from Rushent’s own ‘We Are Rockstars’. For others it’s humbling that Mr Natalie Appleton would ask for help, especially when the remainder of ‘Invaders…’ appears to have taken a look at what an ‘updated Prodigy’

could sound like and bolted it in the opposite direction. Past ‘Always Outnumbered, Never Outdone’, it’s fled, through the punk-spitting ‘The Fat Of The Land’, back to the reassuring, ecstasy-chomping days of ‘Music For The Jilted Generation’ and ‘Experience’. And suddenly ‘Invaders Must Die’ doesn’t feel like an embarrassing ‘daaaaad’ moment, but rather a big ol’ laugh on Howlett’s part; a thanks but no thanks, even if it is quite the ballsy and impressive of starts.

‘Omen’ takes three listens before you swear it’s a Prodigy staple that every club DJ you’ve ever heard wheels out to keep bodies on the dancefloor; ‘Thunder’, with its thick Jamaican accent, a further two revolves before it resembles a heavier remix of ‘Out Of Space’. Both are just the start of comparisons to previous Prodigy joints.

‘Colours’ - the most commercially viable track here - harbours a verse/chorus structure

that’s relatively original of The Prodigy, but we don’t want that anymore.We’re after nostalgic 90s rave tunes; euphoric female vocals chased by gurning heavy beats (‘Warrior’s Dance’); a trumpeting 6am comedown from ‘Screamadelica’’s sunny side (‘Stand Up’); early dance clichés like climbing pianos and samples of “3,2,1, zero” (‘World’s On Fire’); and… errr...

Dave Grohl cameos (the drum-thumping ‘Run With the Wolves’ a first for the band and Grohl together but still reminiscent of when ‘The Fat Of The Land’ sound tracked many a teen Quasar battle in 1997).

Of course, a fair amount of cringing is bound to arise when men of a certain age strive to recreate their former selves, which is exactly what happens fleetingly throughout ‘Invaders Must Die’, and wholly in ‘Take Me To The Hospital’, or ‘Out of Space’ as it was called in 1992. But, seeing as our generation’s probably never felt more jilted, we need The Prodigy.

08/10

09/10

07/10

04/10

01/10

Fol Chen

The Joy Formidable

Chickenhawk

Mojo Fins

Part 1: John Shade,Your Fortune’s Made (Asthmatic

A Balloon Called Moaning

Chickenhawk

Kitty) By Phil Dixon. In stores Feb 23

(Pure Groove)

By LilyEckhoff. In stores now

(Sound Devastation)

By Chris Watkeys. In stores now

Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band

By Philippa Burt. In stores March 9

Kitchen sink eclecticism is quite the tightrope. A scattergun approach could attract new fans to one’s deftly-straddled genre mastery. Conversely, it could end up sounding like a bovine clusterfuck in a bagpipe factory.

Thankfully for these Californian eccentrics, it works. Ostensibly electro-pop, the album leaps from some infectious and instantly accessible pop tunes like ‘The Idiot’, via dreamy, escapist tunes like ‘You and Your Sister In Jericho’ – with its slide guitars and sorrowful, colliery-band brass – to storming, dystopian soundscapes like ‘Winter,That’s All’. Each track creates its own immersive world, seamlessly guiding us through each, eager to discover what lies ahead.

An intelligent display of dramatic diversity between the digital and the traditional.

Ritzy Bryan could be a witch, such are her vocal powers. Her vulnerable, often lonely sounding voice makes you want to stop everything you are doing and listen only to her, which is made a little difficult by the pounding drums and bass provided by Matt and Rhydian. But this is The Joy Formidable; beautifully poignant one minute and disco dancing the next. Providing epic soundscapes reminiscent of Arcade Fire, particularly within new single ‘Cradle’, this trio will awaken and overwhelm you whilst proving that pop doesn’t have to mean smiley faces and white teeth, but a certain sad optimism that both draws you in and pushes you away as well. As every track jostles with potential to the next single release, there is definitely something formidable about these three.

From the insane ear-bleeding thrash of ‘Piglosaur’ to the monolithically heavy ‘Mandarin Grin’, Chickenhawk’s debut is an oblique and atonal guitar assault.

Imagine Napalm Death driving a bulldozer at eighty miles an hour into Slipknot’s studio and you’re somewhere close to the belligerent sound this four-piece create.There are shredded vocals and droptuned guitars aplenty. Anybody still lamenting the demise of crazybrained genre-mashers Test Icicles?

‘Dude-a-tron’ should plug that gap for you. Meanwhile, the six-minute battering of ‘Gravitronic Liferay Table’ deserves a mention on its name alone. Listening to this album is like being put through an industrial grinder by a mad-eyed, twenty year-old James Hetfield on an amphetamine overdose. Give it a go, you might just like it.

It would appear Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band are having a bit of an identity crisis. ‘Who’s Asking’, which kicks off this self-titled debut, sees the Washington band combining the celestial-pervert voice’ of MGMT’s Andrew VanWyngarden with the upbeat sound of Mystery Jets.The band then jump around the musical chess board from Kooks-style indie-pop (‘Masquerade’) to the over-indulgent masturbatory rock championed by Wolfmother (‘Little Red Shoes’ and ‘Albatross Albatross Albatross’). By trying their hand at a variety of genres and trends, Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band present an album that lacks any character or sense of self.

Without being able to make a lasting impression, they fail to stand out from a large and growing crowd.

Self-titled (Dead Oceans)

The Sound That I Still Hear (Amazon)

By Phil Dixon. In stores April 6 Any X Factor viewer will know that the best parts are the good performers (though devoid of any artistic integrity) and the laughably bad. Either way both will be completely forgotten within a couple of weeks of not being rammed down your throats on a weekly basis. Between these two poles, however, sits a broad expanse of middle ground, ranging from “okay” to “meh”, which is quickly dispatched and even more quickly forgotten, having made no impression whatsoever.The Mojo Fins shuffle quietly into this meridian of banality with the sound of every local support band you’ve ever ignored while getting the first round in. Half-hearted, half-arsed, MOR indie with empty production that only their own family members could love.

The Invisible The Invisible (Accidental)

By Chris Watkeys. In stores March 2

06/10

The Invisible’s debut album gets off to a poor start, with the aimless, wandering and empty-sounding ‘In Retrograde’.With a strong whiff of self-indulgence, the experimental track is a confused choice of an opening song, but things do improve. ‘Constant’ is a low-key groove, like Hot Chip on a comedown, and from here on,The Invisible lock into a chilled-out, delicately melodic haze. A high point comes with ‘Monsters Waltz’, which is the sound of Tom Vek and Prince hunkering down in a basement room with a rack of synths and a bass guitar. But there’s a very fine line between chilled-out and plain dull, and for much of this record The Invisible straddle that divide.

Depending on your inclination, this album will either carry you off unwillingly into a partial coma, or have you excitedly reaching for the Rizlas. www.loudandquiet.com

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Al bums 06/10

08/10

08/10

01/10

02/10

Howling Bells

Polly Scattergood

The Shaky Hands

Black Eyed Dog

The Long Weekend

Radio Wars

Polly Scattergood

Lunglight

(Mute)

By Philippa. In stores Mar 9

(Memphis Industries)

By Nathan Westley. In stores now

Rhaianuledada (Songs to Sissy) (Ghost)

20 Minutes 13 Stops

(Independente)

By Tom Pinnock. In stores March 2

ByAnna Dobbie. In stores now

(Mother Tongue)

By Lily Eckhoff. In stores now

Howling Bells’ self-titled debut, a swooning, shoegazey soup of heart-breaking melodies and Juanita Stein’s coquettish honeydrip of a voice, might be one of the greatest albums of the decade, but it failed to sell the multi-millions it deserved. Perhaps in pursuit of what was rightfully theirs, our antipodean heroes have sadly smoothed off a lot of their edges.

‘It Ain’t You’ is as vague as its title, ‘Golden Web’ dabbles badly with electro beats, and ‘Digital Hearts’ is, well, a bit drivetime.There’s still some of the old sound left, though – ‘Nightingale’ is a gorgeous, sinister ballad, while ‘Into The Chaos’ and ‘Treasure Hunt’ boast some beautifully seasick choruses good enough to make ‘Radio Wars’ worth your while maybe, but it’s still hard not to feel a little disappointed.

2009 has been cited as the year when women take the musical reins from the boys and dominate record players nationwide. Not surprisingly then, here’s another young female solo singer vying for our attention over Little Boots and La Roux et al.The difference here is that Polly Scattergood is worth the fuss. For the most part resisting the much travelled pop route, Scattergood finds herself a place somewhere between the undulating vocals of Kate Bush and the haunted whisperings of Laura Marling. Her often childish sounding voice is forgivable when you hear the gem that is debut single ‘Nitrogen Pink’, which will urge you to hang your arms limply above your head and slap on a smile while looking hopefully at the future.The perfect antidote to Duffy’s smug, pug-face.

The Shaky Hands have returned with a mature sophomore album that mixes the influences of Springsteen and Dylan with the type of standardised, weary, slowburning alt. rock that commonly litters the sound tracks of quirky art films that get middle aged critics in a rampant froth.The path is set out on opener ‘A New Parade’ which sees the band head into a slightly darker direction than normal, drawing comparisons to a rockier Wolf Parade; a comparison that is never really broken free of.

The echo laden ‘Worlds Gone Mad’ sees them add a further slither of REM-styled introspectiveness, while at other times there’s the brief moment of Pavement-esque charming ramshackleness added to proceedings. Expect this to appear on many ‘best of year’ lists.

It may be important to try to remain positive and see the good in things, but, in this case, that would make for a very short review. ‘Black Eyed Dog’ is the name of a rather lovely Nick Drake song; Fabio Parrinello, obviously a Drake fan, is a singer-songwriter himself, but that’s where the similarity ends. His gravely, emotion-racked vocals are bizarrely reminiscent of Trey Parker’s singing puppets in Team America and the sound effects he uses are mind-bendingly obscure, perhaps in an attempt to distract from the monotony of the songs themselves.There are titles like ‘All 4 You’ (with a number four!), there’s a nightmarish moment where he repetitively croons ‘Maaaarrrrrrry me’. Let’s leave it there and not even talk about the wincingly poor harmonica solos.

Avoid!

If Pigeon Detective’s Matt Bowman had an accountant uncle with a desire to make music on the side, you would probably find him playing with The Long Weekend.

Because, while this band employs the same recurring guitar riffs, driving drums and unified terrace style chanting, it lacks the louty, adolescent arrogance that unexplainably endears the Detectives to a nation of underachievers.Tracks such as ‘Holiday’ and current single ‘Falling In’ are undeniably catchy, but you will find yourself full of shame and selfloathing as you hum along, hoping that no one spotted you. Sounding like a pre-Big Brother Ordinary Boys without a hint of social critique, this band brings absolutely nothing to the musical table. I just wish the album really did last only 20 minutes.

Whitest Boy Alive Rules (Bubbles)

By Reef Younis. In stores March 30

08/10

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Stuck for some subtle tunes to underpin your ‘come dine with me’ and pull focus as smoke bellows from your kitchen? Look no further than Whitest Boy Alive latest, ‘Rules’. Like an Ikea in-house band, they’re all about natural flow and understated efficiency.With clinical confidence, they ease into an album of crystalline keys, instigate the biggest epidemic of uber cool head-nodding this side of Fun Lovin’ Criminals, and create tranquil, composed soundtracks to satisfy bar flies and easygoing dancefloors everywhere.With former Kings of Convenience man - they weren’t exactly a riot, were they? - Erlend Ove taking the white boy reins, their mild geniality isn’t really a surprise.

And nor is the breezy atmosphere of ‘Rules’.

Recorded in a self-built studio/beach house, with only surfing and eating as a distraction, it’s an album that effortlessly oozes relaxation.

Whereas their modular-released debut, ‘Dreams’, opened itself up to all kinds of re-workings, ‘Rules’ has honed the rhythmic edge of Whitest Boy Alive, incorporating a gentle disco shift throughout - it’s not exactly Saturday Night Fever but a glitter ball and white suit wouldn’t look out of place either.Typified by Ove’s gentle vocal, it’s a clean and crisp record in every respect. Absolutely nothing is wasted or overstated - mellow, walking bass lines slide around the patter of pin-prick beats, the repetitive, rhythmic ‘Time Bomb’ setting the casual, hypnotic pace, and the skittering guitar and Kitsune-esque glitches of ‘Dead End’ injecting an upbeat change of pace late on.

Languid and unhurried, ‘Rules’ is an accompolished follow up that confirms Whitest Boy Alive’s unhurried cool.

08/10

03/10

06/10

05/10

06/10

Hot Gossip

Dan Michaelson & The Coastguards

Pony Hoax

Casiotone For The Painfull Alone

Sailors For Favours

You Look Faster When You Are Young (Ghost)

Images Of Sigrid

By Anna Dobbie. In stores March 9

By Nathan Westley. In stores March 9

(Tiger Sushi)

By Philippa Burt. In stores March 9

‘Hot Gossip’ conjures images of faux-edgy Skins adverts, 70s sequinned dance troops and The Killer’s first, marginally less offensive album.Wrong wrong wrong.What we’re dealing with here are three boys from Milan with an uncanny knack for writing catchy guitar-heavy indie-rock, which would be awful if they didn’t do it so well, thanks to haunting melodies and Giulio Calvino’s charmingly broken English. Leading guitar lines that alternate between sharp and distorted, and cheery, dance beats meet with nonsensical-yetpassionately delivered lyrics, resulting in a musical delight that serves as a fresh reminder of why, back in the days before Kaiser Chiefs made everything so bloody average, we fell in love with indie in the first place.

Dan Michaelson will be known to some as the voice of Absentee; his backing band meanwhile also feature some familiar names, amongst them members of Fields, The Magic Numbers and The Rumble Strips. Factor in that side projects are nine times out of ten outlets for songs that didn’t quite fit the mould of the main band and this album has all the hallmarks of being something quite unique.

Morose lyrics are delivered in a deep distinctive croon that etches its way over understated piano, jazz tinged drums and peppered brass. A Scott Walker influence haunts the recordings but the results make for a less grand version of The Last Shadow Puppets as Michaelson discretely unleashes a depressing album that makes Thom Yorke look as cheerful as a Butlins red coat.

By the end of ‘The Bird is On Fire’, track two of ‘Images of Sigrid’, you could be ready to label Poni Hoax as Interpol chancers that have heard of Joy Division like so many others. But, just as the slow murmuring of singer Nicholas Ker becomes predictable, ‘Pretty Tall Girls’ strikes and the record takes a turn for the dancefloor. Stand out single ‘Antibodies’ begs for feet to be stamped and strutted, while the catchy riffs and uber-camp group chanting on ‘You’re Gonna Miss My Love’ are reminiscent of Franz’s ‘This Fire’, making it clear why Alex Kapranos chose the French group to open their recent London show. But all this continual jumping between musical genres really shows that, while unpredictability can be fun, it can also be bloody frustrating.

Saltwater (Memphis Industries)

Advance Base Battery Life (Tomlab)

By Stuart Stubbs. In stores March 9 Poor old Holly. She’s being told it straight by Owen Ashworth - aka Casiotone... - while we all listen.

“You’re just a hobby, Holly,” gently sings the heartbreaker. Still, as this collection of limited singles and rarities marks 11 years of music for Ashworth, we’re still reminded that no one is more painfully alone that the author himself. Holly can at least take comfort in that, as the Ryan Adams-eque ‘It’s A Crime’ sulks to an old country road song while Ashworth’s vocal borders on breaking. ‘The Only Way To Cry’ (45 seconds long) is an even more sullen affair as comparisons of Casiontone... to The Smiths begin to feel way off the mark - this is bleak stuff with little sense of hope.

Thankfully, a lo-fi cover of Missy Elliot’s ‘Hot Boyz’ makes us put the knife back in the draw, just in time.

M Ward Hold Time (4ad)

By Reef Younis. In stores now

07/10

For someone who’s long conjured up images of world weary freedom, cross-country Greyhound bus jaunts and idly passing days in tin pan back alleys, you’d think M.Ward might have settled the score with just a few of his demons by now.

I mean, how can you not feel something’s right in the world when you’re hanging out with Zooey Deschanel? His latest offering, ‘Hold Time’, gratifyingly skiffles along with Ward’s signature style – the gentle, rasping vocal, the considered, picked guitar rhythms and some neat tremolo guitar flourishes making for an endearing, mellifluous listen. From the near surf rock cover of Buddy Holly’s ‘Rave On’ to the Beach Boys-esque ‘To Save Me’ – with its jaunty piano refrain and multi harmony chorus – ‘Hold

Furious Sons (Tough Love)

By Philippa Burt. In stores March 9 On first listen, the sunny, upbeat sounds of Favours for Sailors makes you instantly look forward to the coming spring months with promises of summers spent chasing friends around parks with water pistols in slow motion. But one look out the window shows that we are still in the depths of this seemingly never ending winter of discontent and the cheeky optimism of this quartet can become slightly grating. Perhaps this mini album is one to be saved for later then, because sounding like The Shins during their ‘Chutes Too Narrow’ stage, particularly true of ‘No Room At The Buffet’, ‘Furious Sons’ will no doubt be a hit for young kids waving goodbye to exams and school come June.

Whether Favours For Sailors will last longer than an exotic fruit Solero is uncertain.

Time’ has an optimistic, almost jovial back bone, but it’s when Ward reverts to his distinctive, throaty vocal and composed finger picking that you’re transported back to a time when your best friend was a hefty transistor radio. It’s an album of well tread compositions, waiting and open-armed, that envelope you, ruffle your hair and tell you tall tales of adventure and pioneers, riding the rails and roaming vast frontier trails, all from the comfort of a favourite chair.

Sentimentality aside, there’s also distance and introspection, and a quiet desperation to recall memories fading and melted by time. Still, with ‘Stars of Leo’ building to a vigorous crescendo of hammered acoustic guitar and rigorous bells from tentative, inauspicious beginnings, and the easy-going melody of ‘Jailbird’ doing much to cover Ward’s general lament, ‘Hold Time’ is another fine chapter from the life and times of M.Ward. And it’s a story I don’t think we’ll get bored of any time soon. www.loudandquiet.com

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It’s a bit of an Animal

Animal collective

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Koko, Camden 11.01.2009

By Reef Younis Pic: Kelda Hole

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As the proud creators of an album sitting pretty just outside the midweek top 10, and the incessant focus of fawning music critics across the land, January’s been something of a revelation for Animal Collective.While it seems everyone can’t get enough of their latest, ‘Merriweather Post Pavilion’ – everyone from the broadsheets to the gutter press have been lauding it as a ‘modern classic’ – they’ve also been busy blazing it on the live trail, winning over fans like some extravagant troupe of merry Pied Pipers.

Having crafted ‘Merriweather…’ from disparate corners of the globe, it makes you wonder whether Avey Tare (David Pornter), Panda Bear (Noah Lennox) and Geologist (Brian Weitz) have racked up some pretty serious air miles en route to the mini-grandeur of Koko. Numbering only three (Deakin isn’t

here tonight) the communal sense of ‘the collective’ might be somewhat diminished, but even as a trio they’re more than capable of comprehensively immersing an audience in intricate, roaming melodies, jigsawed together so that it’s not so much one song, but a symphony of playful, chaotic harmonies, writhing and winding in unison. And although the album has its moments of astounding ingenuity, reproducing such a melange of sounds into an all-engrossing live show must pose something of a challenge. After all, this is a band who pride themselves on their genre-bending diversity and are revered for their ever-changing chameleonic approach to making music.

Not looking all to fazed by the prospect, Avey, Panda and Geologist just look like they’re here to make enough noise for the whole clan.

Encamped behind hefty banks of synths and

keyboards, Geologist, sporting the customary headlamp, is a livewire. Perpetually busy, he alternately ferrets around his electronic bazaar, feeding the unyielding maelstrom of noise while Panda is rhythmically intent on angering the Gods, relentlessly beating his kit with the hammer of Thor.

On record Avey’s the wandering, wailing stream of consciousness that propels Animal Collective into their spatial nirvana; tonight he seems in a belligerent, incomprehensible mood, almost reluctant to interact with anyone. And for the most part, he takes the path of the less spoken.

Regardless, the quivering beginnings of ‘In the Flowers’, tonight, as it does on record, tentatively opens the wardrobe doors to Narnia and Animal Collective’s unique little world – a five minute coronation of twinkling guitar and

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Banjo or freakout Madame Jo Jo’s 13.01.2009

By Kate Hutchinson ▼

sinister, layered vocals that both intrigue and invite. Avey snaps out of his incoherent daze to triumphantly serenade Koko on the glistening ‘My Girls’, his gloriously projected vocals marching through Geologists twinkling, spectral keys.

Koko’s understandably packed but remarkably understated in its movement.

There are many who look like they’re poised to have a good time, sporting novelty oversized glasses and the odd lashing of dayglo face paint, but no-one’s really cutting loose the way their attire suggests. Not even the blazing barrage of a flashing rectangles back-dropped behind the band can provoke a crazed bout of shape throwing or feet shuffling. It might have something to do with the now sweaty confines of Koko, or, perhaps,

for all their sonic magic and majesty, but Animal Collective are also culpable of reverting to mindless dirge, as opposed to the effervescent, bouts of prolonged psychedelic beauty they’re inherently capable of. At times, their ingenuity degenerates into plodding, unfocused ambience that detracts from the skewed, jovial brilliance of tracks like ‘Summertime Clothes’.

On record, ‘Brother Sport’ is a giddy, climactic finale, a merry-go-round of Avey and Panda’s vocals, sweetly spinning around all kinds of noisy avant-garde knick knacks, and it doesn’t disappoint as the main set closer tonight. Panoramic and incessant, it invades what little space there is left with scintillating mischief that defies anyone to leave Koko without a joyous grin.

As the Myspace generation presently dictates, whoever nestles in your ‘Top Friends’ represents your very being in 20 thumbnail portraits. If that’s so, then Italianborn electronic architect Banjo or Freakout’s assemblage of influences presents a befuddling sonic palate.

Legendary hip hop producer JDilla cosies up to disco pioneer Arthur Russell, who’s placed next to Robert Wyatt and Brian Eno’s ambient-cum-motorik side-project Harmonia. He’s either a spindly bedroom laptop fiddler or a ‘super geek’ ripped with attitude.Turns out, he’s both. Up on the imposing stage, Alessio Natalizia cuts a fragile figure, his frame loaded by his guitar and surrounded by numerous loop pedals and synthesisers at the launch party for his single on No Pain In Pop, ‘Mr No’. Gentle Friendly’s Daniel Boyle helps out on drums and laptop supervision, beefing up Natalizia’s dreamy pop soundscapes and offsetting the quivering vulnerability in his psychedelic vocals, which manage to protrude despite Jo Jo’s criminally crunchy soundsystem. Shimmering lo-fi track ‘Like You’ takes his avantelectronica to more shadowy depths, its breathy chants floating in concentric rings around the relentless and muddy synth stabs, while ‘Mr No’ collides vigorous tribal and Afrobeat rhythms with hazy post rock. Soundclashes have barely sounded so promising.

Zoo Zero Buffalo Bar, Islington 14.01.2009

By Stuart Stubbs ▼

Stage right of Buffalo Bar’s barelyraised plinth,Tom Churchyard prepares his band for takeoff. On his knees, as Zoo Zero’s second ever gig climaxes, he punches the multiple effect pedals that he’s spent the last 30 minutes stamping on, twiddling knobs to manipulate

the laser zaps that feedback and shoot from his amplifier. He’s gone Matt Belamy on us at the exact point we thought this east London trio couldn’t squeeze in another bold influence. Until now we’ve had lo-fi guitar indie (suiting Churchyard’s smart/casual clobberof-a-Stephen-Malkmus-fan), James Dean-Bradfield vocal shreds, a stretching Fleetwood Mac wig-out, moulding three tracks into a Doors-sized psych pop opus and early Idlewild arpeggios to plug leaky holes. In opener ‘Mouchette’ there’s even a Kula Shaker warble at one point. It all sounds like cheap pilfering, and yet Zoo Zero’s napping fingers channel their influences so well that it’s forgiven – not least because they appear to be progging-out with all the confidence of a band that invented their entire sound without listening to a single record from the above. “You think we sound like Pavement?” they might say.

“That’s cool, but we never intended to.” And we believe them, because as ‘Stationed’ closes this second Zoo Zero show, the band are suddenly all the best bits of The Clash.

Gregor Samsa The Luminaire, Kilburn 23.01.2009

By Holly Emblem ▼

After two suspiciously American sounding UK acts (Evi Vine and The Sleeping Years) it’s an aural delight to be greeted with the blissed-out orchestration of true Yankees Gregor Samsa. Living up to their Franz Kafka namesake, they deliver a tumbling, sweltering, claustrophobic and fragmentary set, confidently switching between the hushed vocals of Champ Bennett and Nikki King, to distinctly tribal, visceral instrumental crescendos that both startle and sooth.While the band uncomfortably reside in the Frankenstein’s-monsterpatchwork-quilt of a genre that is post-rock, live this 8-piece prove why they’re one of the most important bands in the movement to date. At times it’s beautiful, at others it’s downright draining, but www.loudandquiet.com

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most importantly, Gregor Samsa are not introspective; they actively encourage emotional response.

Whether the audience can allow itself to be truthful to the emotions stirred by the group is another matter, but in the atmospheric and tiny Luminaire, you can’t help but feel you’re witnessing a collective group of lost souls desperately climbing the walls, hiding behind feedback and trying to make sense of the world. Not many bands live up to their namesake, but Gregor Samsa have done Kafka proud.

Lord Auch. Pic: Alex Warren

Little Joy The Leadmill, Sheffield 16.01.2009

By Kate Parkin ▼

Crystal Antlers. Pic: Jason Havord

Kap Bambino. Pic: Daniela Antonucci

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Huddled together on the backroom stage, Little Joy spread a happy glow into the darkest corners.This collaboration between Strokes drummer Fabrizio Moretti, Binki Shapiro and Rodrigo Amarantes could so easily become all about The Strokes connection, but it doesn’t. Rodrigo moves straight to the fore with acoustic musings in his native Portuguese tongue. Each taking their turn in the spotlight, ‘Unattainable’ is all about Binki.

She delicately unfurls dreamy vocals, bewitching the crowd into pin-dropping silence, blissfully unaware that we’re all already a little bit in love with her.The atmosphere is one of laid-back good will as support band Dead Trees provide backup on a cover of Helen Shapiro’s ‘Walking Back To Happiness’. Fab casually flouts the smoking ban with a fag dangling from his upper lip as he louchely strums along.The consummate charmer, no one bothers to check him.There are still hints of Strokes rhythms here and there, but crucially missing is Julian’s trademark snarl, and it is clear that this is so much more than just a whimsical side project. ‘Dancing’ is a classic sing-a-long, building to a roof-lifting chorus.The lights go out, but in Blitz spirit fashion the singing carries on. Given the chance they would have stayed all night, and so would we.

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kap bambino The Macbeth, Hoxton 16.01.2009

By Chris Watkeys ▼

It all begins with a wall-melting hurricane of white noise.Then, about two minutes in, you come to the realisation that watching Kap Bambino perform live is an experience something akin to being bludgeoned repeatedly in the face with a Casio keyboard weighted down with rocks.This French duo have a reputation for manic live performances, and they’re not gonna disappoint tonight. Singer Caroline Martial seems particularly unhinged. Clad in black leather, she stares, deadeyed and urgent, her head motionless but her body twitching manically to the rhythm.The music, meanwhile, is crunchy electro, monolithically heavy in places, but always frantically intense.The Macbeth crowd is split pretty much fifty-fifty: those far too cool to dance, and those cool enough not to care. It gets pretty hairy down the front. Someone clatters the overhead P.A., setting it swinging precipitously over the heads of the moshpit, so Caroline decides to go crowd-surfing, clutching the mic like a weapon, her wordless yelp piercing the chaotic noise. Eventually, inevitably, crowd merges with stage and Kap Bambino are lost in a sea of thrashing limbs. My advice: go see this band live. If you get out alive, you’ll have a smile on your face.

Eagles Of Death metal Soho Revue Bar, Soho 29.01.2009

By Elizabeth Dodd ▼

Fishnets and glitter balls: Riot Grrrl it’s not when Eagles of Death Metal’s infamous Ladies Only gig bids a sequin studied au-revoir to the Soho Revue Bar. Frontman Jesse Hughes hypes the crowd like a revivalist preacher, flirting across the stage between segments of innuendo-draped rock. From the opening ‘Only Want You’ to new

single ‘Wannabe In L.A’, Joey (QOTSA) Castillo more than compensates for not being Eagles’ normal drummer-for-hire, extending Josh Homme’s rolls and fills like they’re beneath him. It’s a weird set-up – from Man-Pit crèche to mirrored dance poles – but gimmicky undertones are knocked aside the moment tenacious stage-invaderettes launch into oestro-powered spotlight stealing: seldom are girls so keen to instigate stage diving.While the set is weighted more with older tracks than you’d expect at an album promotion, familiar riffs set the newer, dynamically diverse songs in ass-shaking context; amping up for the encore – after a brief fill from anarchistic DJs – a roaring cover of ‘Brown Sugar’ and mysticsurrealistic hit ‘Speakin’ In Tongues’ bring the gig to a close. It’s a shame to see the Revue Bar close, but exuberant and riff-roaring, Eagles have rocked a great tribute to all the velvet-clad tension the cabaret joint stood for.

O. Children The Macbeth, Hoxton 09.01.2009

By Edgar Smith ▼

It’s good to feel like you are somewhere else entirely, and not only because you happen to be in the Macbeth.This kind of mental displacement has something extremely refreshing about it and it takes a special band to transcend the pub’s four sweating walls, and pump the atmosphere thick with sleazy eighties club nuance.The band is O. Children, and, risen from the ashes of perennially ironic synth freaks Bono Must Die, this more mature project should be – taste-makers willing – massive. Not only do they look the part – think statuesque heroin chic in leather and shades – but, unlike most, they manage to stay standing with one foot in art and the other in pop; birthing their music to the murky territory in between. As a result, their songs, the best of which sound like a roughed-up New Order, are infectious and dancefloor friendly but stand up to

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repeat listens.What on record sounds tempered by these pop sensibilities is unleashed live: ‘Dead Eye Lover’ freaks out, mute-toned ballad ‘Smile’ is a smouldering wall of sound and an up-tempo ‘Ace Breasts’ explodes off the stage.The understated theatricality of singer Tobias’ in-vogue baritone and his band’s poise is the final touch to what is a near-perfect live show..

Lord Auch The Plug, Sheffield 17.01.2009

By Kate Parkin ▼

Lord Auch’s Si McCabe is clearly used to better receptions. Featuring ex-members of Leeds powerhouses Black Wire, they have quickly become one of the darlings of the London circuit, never-mind guitarist Liam Wade’s modelling contracts with Agyness Deyn and the like, but tonight the space at the back of the hall is met with a snarl and extra guitar thrashes.

Distilling Eighties Match Box BLine Disaster with an equal measure of Nick Cave, ‘The Dig Inn’ fits perfectly with their teddyboy-meets-undertaker image.

There are dalliances with Libertines style mockney ditties too, but these are whitewashed by flashes of brilliance that drop hints of everything from Roy Orbison to Iggy Pop’s ‘Passenger’. Leaning towards the dark side, the band rumble their slow stabbing basslines, and with a sallow complexion and slightly sunken eyes, singer Si has something of the Vampire Lestat about him, leading a swooning Masonic chant through ‘Lettre de Cache’. But, oddly, the catchiest song of the night – single ‘Mareado’ – is a pretty lacklustre affair, shuffled through with heads down. As the bored crowd start to resemble extras of zombie Bmovie, the insistent flamenco rhythms of ‘Old Men In Love’ takes on a whole new urgency, perhaps a little too late. Given a bigger crowd to feed off, Lord Auch could have really made a killing tonight, but they’ll need to make do with smaller meals for some time yet.

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Sky Larkin Bullingdon Arms, Oxford 28.01.2009

By Tom Goodwyn ▼

Nudging onto the stage in a crowded and sweaty pub back room, Leeds trio Sky Larkin seem distracted. Clearly tired and road weary, the band look too in need of a good night’s sleep to give their debut album tour the excitement it deserves. It’s lucky then that the band’s songs are so chirpy, as it doesn’t take long for them to get Oxford smiling. Honouring the legacy of Riot Grrrl and the dearly missed Sleater Kinney, Sky Larkin bring their own, more sensitive, more twee take to indie rock.

Tonight’s set is a full on barrage of bouncy, ramshackle numbers like ‘Fossil, I’, affectionate fancies such as ‘Matador’ and the catchy as hell ‘Molten’.The Larkin’s set is a breezy forty minutes, which clatters to a close with leadoff single ‘Beeline’, before they and the punters bounce off into the Oxford night. As ‘phoned in’ as this performance seemed, the infectious energy and earnestness of Sky Larkin’s songs make them, well, kind of irresistible. It just makes you wonder how brilliant a live band they really could be.

Definitely something worth coming back for next time they’re in town… and have had a kip.

Crystal Antlers The Lexington, Angel 04.02.2009

By Kate Hutchinson ▼

We had an inkling that grunge was back from all the plaid Ushankers on every Shoreditchite and his dog, but now we’re sure.Troupes like An Experiment On A Bird In The Air Pump are adding extra kohl to their Riot Grrrl adaptation, but it’s up to Long Beach, California’s prog enthusiasts Crystal Antlers, for whom we’ve been waiting, to pummel it back into our record collections.The sextet look like they were slung together off the back of an AA meeting and they straddle mismatched genres too as

they clobber their way through Godzilla-strength psych-rock. One tattooed hardcore kid waves his super sized hands around emphatically in that way punk kids do when they’re really ‘feeling it’, punters who remember bands like Tad nod enthusiastically and others are enthralled that ‘70s Eaglesaping Americana has been fuzzed up and spat out via an organist, a few woodwind instruments and a wild percussionist who strikes his separate cymbal set with hurricane levels of gusto. Ending on ‘Parting Song For The Torn Sky’, vocalist Johnny Bell howls like Kings Of Leon should, his band’s borderline funky riffs pounding down relentlessly as if plodding through Palm desert. It’s sweltering whiskey soaked rock at its most invigorating.

Swanton Bombs Cargo, Shoreditch 27.01.2009

By Reef Younis ▼

They say three’s a crowd but two can be a fucking nightmare if you don’t get it right.The White Stripes had the whole brothersister-Detroit-rock-blues niche; DFA 1979 amped up and drip fed GM testosterone through bass and drums, and, well, Swanton Bombs another set of identikit indie kids don’t quite have a signature anything just yet.They have an indie troubadour family connection between guitarist Dom Mcguinness and his better-known brother Eugene, but that’s hardly enough, is it? Harsh, perhaps, but if there’s only two of you, you got a whole lotta space to fill. And tonight, Swanton Bombs just don’t.

It’s not loud enough; not brash enough; not visceral enough to get us hooked. ‘The Shock’ does its best to get hips swaying but it’s only when Video Nasties guitarist Harry Granger-Howell steps up to literally beef up proceedings we’re interested. By then it’s already too late, and a helping hand from brother Eugene doesn’t help at all as the singing siblings looks terrified and embarrassed in equal measures.

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CasioKids Digital, Brighton 24.01.2009

By Nathan Westley ▼

Scandinavia has not been entirely kind to us of late, enticing us with a fjord full of bands with one killer first single only for a toboggan full of slush to soon disappointingly follow.Yet when we start to lose hope a band emerges that reaffirms that it does not need to be like this; Casiokids look set to be the real deal. Like fellow Bergen residents Annie and Royksopp there is an electronic bent to these young whipper snappers’ music, which helps them remain as far away from your standard guitar band as they are equally far from your standard electro band. It’s a sound that is in stark contrast to the teeth scouring grimace pulled onto the face of the prime keyboardist, who, bathed in thick green, at times looks like the Incredible Hulk, or the Bez-style dancing of the frontman.These five may be used to the cold weather, but tonight, with several synths outstretched along the narrow stage, they grind out a party spirited set that fluctuates between playful Hot Chip electronic pop and, on songs such as the instrumental ‘Fot I Hose’, upbeat groove based snapshots of wiry dance-led Rapture-influenced punk funk that’s intermingled with playful synths. All of this makes Casiokids sound like a more adventurous version of Friendly Fires.

Emmy The Great Oxford O2 Academy, Oxford 31.01.2009

By Tom Goodwyn ▼

Long regarded as the Shoreditch ligger’s artist of choice to fall asleep to, Emma Lee Moss, as her parent’s call her, is about to drop her debut album and find out if her folky ditties can have a life outside of Zone 4. Demurely taking the stage just after nine, she looks incredibly nervous, but, as soon as she plucks the first note of ‘We Almost Had A Baby’ the crowd is hanging on her

every nuance. Backed by a four piece band and clearly excited to have more than some scratchy demos in her back catalogue, Emmy is soon on fine form. As with chief anti folkster Regina Spektor, Emmy’s songs are more short stories than anything else.

And, like all good story tellers, the Londoner has the audience getting more and more involved as each song progresses.There’s the tender ‘MIA’, the laugh out loud ‘The Hypnotist’s Son’ and the windswept ‘Short Country Song’, all of which receive a rapturous reception. By the time she closes with ‘Two Steps Forward’, her tale of, as she puts it “inappropriate outdoor fun”, everyone in the room is sold. Scenesters, be warned, you’re going to lose your Emmy to the rest of the country.

Ex Lion Tamers Latest 7 Bar, Brighton 29.01.2009

By Nathan Westley ▼

Many ‘Tips for 09’ features were keen to inform us that synth based music is alive and feverently kicking, while in comparison guitar based bands are seen as tiresome, past their sell by date and consigned to a future of lying belly up in ice cold water; a frustrating prediction for any new band emerging who hold a guitarist amongst their ranks.Yet one band not willing to play along are Ex Lion Tamers who tonight, in a solidly packed venue, embark on a set of short post punk inflected tunes.Though the regular culprits are wheeled out as influences, the similarity to Wire stretches beyond being named after one of their best known songs. Look deeper and there is sometimes a Mark-ESmith-meets-Suggs performance from singer Lou Hill while Gang of Four style elasticated funkiness is rife in songs such as ‘Over Time’.

Delivered with an ice cold detachment and an idiosyncratic sheen, Ex Lion Tamers’ set teeters on the right side of great long enough to halt even the fiercest of critics from giving them a mauling.

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film

Preview

By Dean driscoll

Watchmen Starring: Billy Crudup, Matthew Goode, Jeffrey Dean Morgan Director: Zach Snyder

Above: Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino. Left: Vicky Christina Barcelona

cinema preview After a frankly ridiculous January, which brought with it at least two must-see films every weekend – as the Oscar-contender release-flurry took hold – things settle into a more manageable groove for February, with a delicate smattering of tasty filmic morsels spread across its 28 days, regardless of the Oscars themselves taking place on February 22nd. By the time you read this, Slumdog Millionaire will have won the BAFTA for Best Film with Danny Boyle deservedly claiming the Best Director statuette… probably… with the movie also a deserved frontrunner for both categories at the Academy Awards.

Someone Boyle will be taking on for the BAFTA director award will be Clint Eastwood, nominated for The Changeling, which was curiously overlooked by Oscar in all the major categories apart from Angelina Jolie’s nomination for Best Actress.This month Clint returns both in front of and behind the camera in Gran Torino (released February 20th) – the tale of Clint’s bigoted Korean War vet, who attempts to reform his young Asian neighbour who attempts to steal his titular ride. In all probability, the plot may well see the daft old racist seeing the error of his ways, but coupling the Hollywood legend’s trademark assured direction with this as his probable acting swansong (he’s 79 this year), it’s likely to be highly deserving of your time.

Another Hollywood old-timer returns this month too:Woody Allen’s had more ‘returns to form’ than Bob Dylan and David Bowie put together, but we’re being assured that Vicky Cristina Barcelona (February 13th) really, really, DOES – honestly – mark a return to the Woody Allen of Manhattan and Annie Hall vintage.

With Javier Bardem playing ruthlessly against type as a handsome Spanish lothario who can make women go

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weak at the knees with the raise of an eyebrow, and courting the simultaneous attentions of two American tourists played by Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson (tough gig!), it’s said to be a classic Allen examination of sex and relationships. Having picked up the Golden Globe for Best Musical or Comedy, it’s been Penelope Cruz who’s been getting all the BAFTA and Oscar love, nominated by each for Best Supporting Actress in her role as Bardem’s damaged ex-wife.

Acting nominations have been liberally chucked at the other awards heavyweight released this month: Doubt (out now) features multiple awards-nommed acting turns, which is par for the course when you pair up Meryl Streep and the Greatest Actor Working Today (© me) Philip Seymour Hoffman.The battle of wills between Streep’s battleaxe Sister Beauvier (no relation to Marge apparently) and Hoffman’s Father Flynn, who may or may not have a dark secret regarding his relationship with one of his pupils at a Sixties Bronx Catholic school. Adapted by director John Patrick Shanley from his own play, it’s a stagey affair in which to drink in a host of supreme performances from Streep, Hoffman and Amy Adams, all of which have turned heads at the Academy and BAFTA, and will each hope to steal a small portion of the limelight on what will almost certainly be Slumdog Millionaire’s big nights…

This month’s cinema highlights...

February 6th – Doubt, Bolt February 13th – Vicky Christina Barcelona, Notorious February 20th – Gran Torino, Che Part Two: The Guerilla February 27th – Franklyn

One movie deserving of particularly special attention this month is Watchmen.With the source graphic novel frequently heralded as the ‘Citizen Kane’ of its art form, now is the perfect time to unleash this dark, brooding, complex superhero film, whilst everyone craves for more from Nolan’s Batman - Watchmen is set to pick up where The Dark Knight left off. Written by Alan Moore – creator of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, From Hell and V For Vendetta – in 1986, Watchmen is set in an alternative 1980s: one where Nixon is still the US president and the Cold war rages hotter than ever following a US victory in Vietnam.

Though ostensibly a whodunit murder mystery, as the remaining Watchmen (a group of masked vigilantes who first emerge in the 1940s to help fight crime) seek to discover who murdered one of their own, the depth of the storytelling runs far deeper than any other superhero movie yet committed to screen. Disowned by Moore after Hollywood’s handling of his other graphic novels, Watchmen has had a tortuously protracted journey to the screen with some of Hollywood’s biggest directors attached at some point.

By staying incredibly close to the source material – even framing shots exactly as they appear in the novel – it seems Snyder’s finally cracked it, with every morsel of footage only stoking the fires of anticipation more.The talented young director’s debut was the excellent 2006 Dawn of the Dead remake before he hit the box office big time with his adap of Frank Miller’s 300 graphic novel, marking him as the perfect man to finally bring the Watchmen to the screen, and make film icons of Rorschach (a psychotic vigilante who wears an ink-blot mask),The Comedian (an amoral ‘patriot’) and Dr Manhattan – the only truly super powered character, who perhaps did more harm than good by single-handedly winning Vietnam with his god-like powers.

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party wolf Photo Casebook“The Month of Lust”

You know what today is, Rod? Valentine’s, my favourite day of the year! What you got planned?

horoscopes Aquarius

Tell you what mate, I’m gonna cruise Kings Cross like me and Ronnie Wood used to when we were in The Faces. You?

I’ve got it all planned out rosey like - spot of grub down Bodean’s (so I can make my ‘pleased to meat you’ gag) and then I’ve got tickets for The Wrestler! My missus loves WWE.

Make no mistake, this is your time Aquarius, but it’s also a time for reflection.Your passion has come up against some harsh criticism recently, namely from those that feel you to be as wet as your water sign.

What they don’t understand is that you’ve much fire in you, thanks to your second moon shining like the bright Bat Signal from police HQ in Gotham City.

They wouldn’t like it if you went and trashed their second moon though, would they? Of course not, but don’t lose yourself. Being a psycho is one thing but thinking that you’re American when you’re not is as inexcusable as punching your own mother!

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word search

I’m gonna pile-drive you silly!

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Phoarrr!

You jammy git PW!

Clues: 1) Son of Frank Butcher, fella of Bianca.

2) A sports brand famous for tennis gear.

3) The plural for baked goods with an ‘M’.

4) ‘Knowing ___, Knowing You’.

5) To desire.

6) __ and fro.

7) Something you might do after too much booze.

8) Jay-Z rapped about this type of ‘Knock Life’.

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