We Are The Ocean – Bleed An essential part of the UK’s fastdeveloping hard rock scene. Bleed is one of those records that sets a band up and stays with them for life. Really strong.
Lianne La Havas – Is Your Love Big Enough? There is a reason why Prince and Stevie Wonder are amongst the many fans of this singer/songwriter. A total natural.
Netsky – Love Is Gone Following on from Rudimental’s recent UK Number One single, Feel The Love, Belgian producer Netsky delivers a new single big on dynamics and full of summer. The next to go.
Haim – Forever One of the biggest buzz bands around, this could be an undiscovered 1980s classic yet it holds enough modernity to sound referential and not reverential. A great song. 44
MATT PRIEST OUR WRITER reflects on an early brush with teenage power politics hen I was 16 years old, I quipped to a friend of mine that our boarding school housemaster was the lovechild of Genghis Khan and Niccolo Machiavelli. It was an astute comparison I thought – he was a large, heavily bearded man who understood that the power of reigning over a 100-odd pubescent teenagers lay in ruling by fear, and fear alone. After we had finished our sniggering, my friend murmured that, through a rather rigorous game of chinese whispers, he’d heard a rumour that I was an early front runner for my school’s prestigious College Lion award (more on this later). It all sounded terribly secretive, and the fact that I was privy to this rumour so early on added extra gravitas. Plus, it was said in a hushed voice, which immediately quadruples the importance of the rumour – one of the many unquestioned schoolyard rules. Now let’s be clear about one thing. When I say boarding school, it was not a Hogwartsesque castle tricked out with dungeons and secret passageways, nor a hideaway for the forgotten children of pompous politicians and captains of industry. It was a renovated wartime hospital tucked away in the sleepy depths of Norfolk, on the East Coast of England. There was no figgy pudding here, just apple crumble with a dollop of thick Bird’s Eye custard. And, while having masterfully familiar-
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ised myself with the canteen’s sweets station in the eight months since I’d been enrolled in the school, I was yet to learn what a College Lion award was. What I did know was that it was hugely important. The students voted for it (a popularity contest if ever there was one), and without any work whatsoever, I was somehow top of the exit polls. Just imagine what I could do if I put some real effort into it. My mind was made up – it was time to go on the charm offensive. In order to maximise exposure, I exploited my position on the school’s football team and booked more gigs for the rock band that I was in. I lobbied support with the lower school by becoming the figurehead for an anti-bullying campaign. I even tried to demonstrate my versatility by being cast as Pharaoh in the school’s production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat. I stopped short of knocking door to door, but only after serious talks with my roommate/campaign advisor. By ‘election day’, I had drummed up so much support that if I were in an American high-school I’d be disappointed had my peers not burst into song, teamed with a perfectly choreographed cheerleader routine, complete with a pom pom or two. I had run one hell of a campaign. Richard Nixon would have been proud (although I never orchestrated any break-ins, and certainly did not record anybody’s telephone conversations, honest). Truth be told, however, I don’t remember who won that year’s College Lion – all I know is that it wasn’t me. What I do recall, though, was the look that accompanied the almighty smirk spread across my housemaster’s face when he read out someone else’s name. Rumour had it, he’d overhead the one about Genghis Khan.