1/3 of Reuben return

This evening, I got an unanticipated, excitable call from my boyfriend. "JAMIE LENMAN'S RELEASING A NEW ALBUM". We like Reuben, the band Lenman fronted a few years ago, and any signs of life in the band members have excited us ever since. Reuben were amongst the hardcore bands to rise in the early 00s with Biffy Clyro, Hundred Reasons and Hell is for Heroes, and they were also one of those rare bands who break up but then don't stop gathering fans. My boyfriend and I nearly booked tickets to 2000 Trees festival this year because there were rumours Reuben would perform. It was unlikely, and as expected, it didn't happen. But now, news - on 4th November, their lead singer and main ego is releasing new music.

When I interviewed Jamie Lenman 4 years ago, he told readers to "Watch this space!" if they wanted to hear some solo material. Well, it's been a lot of watching, but today we've got what we were waiting for. The promotional bumf is extremely polished: Jamie's gone for the waxed-moustache look (I don't think that's a viable look, but he pulls it off - or rather, I wish he would); an album release on CD and vinyl is planned; a new website has already been rolled out, and the new video is seamlessly and stylishly directed. In other words, this hasn't come about sketchily. Fans have spent the last 5 years examining and debating every bale of tumbleweed passing through the desert Reuben left behind, watching that space with hawks' eyes, so this onslaught of information was a shock to the senses. Within half a day, the new video has been shared by over half of the people who've liked it on Facebook - there may not be millions of them, but these people are seriously dedicated.

So can the new tracks impress fans who've waited 5 years for Jamie to put down his sketching pencils (he was an illustrator for the Guardian for a while) and pick up a guitar? Well, primarily, the surprise is the genre Lenman's chosen - or should that be genres? His new album appears to be half hardcore, half "jazz-folk", and the new video (below) showcases both styles to great effect. The wit on the second track, 'Pretty Please', is characteristic Lenman - with simple lyrics, a light-hearted edge and unabashed catchiness, it's more 'pop' than anything Lenman's released before, but anyone who listened to 'Deadly Lethal Ninja Assassin' on the last album could have sensed something shifting. It's very different though. If we're to believe Jamie actually played as many instruments on the track as the video suggests, then he's branched out dramatically - from drummer, guitarist and vocalist to double-bass aficionado and trumpet player? Bravo.

The cry of the track is "validate me! Oh pretty please. Validate me, yeah." It's probably no coincidence that Xtra Mile & Jamie have chosen to release that particular song as a single. So far, the Youtube comments and wider response seem to validate him very nicely.

The track opening the video is a lot more like Jamie as manifested on Reuben tracks. The atmospheres of the two halves neatly represent the singer's seeming dual personality - he's brooding, dark and able to inject real anger into recordings, but (previously outside of the studio) also has an immense sense of humour and playfulness. See what you think, anyway. For me, Maggsy321 summarised the feelings of today perfectly: "The only thing that could ruin one of the happiest days of my life is the stupid fucking moustache."

The lonely festival experience

This year, I managed to get a ticket to the YNot festival in Derbyshire. It's an annual 'small' festival (with around 8,000 tickets) costing just under £80 for the weekend. When I was offered a ticket with the press, I searched far and wide for people to accompany me, visualising beautiful afternoons lounging in a campsite with six or seven of my favourite people, music playing in the background, the sky blue, etc. etc.. That scene was never to materialise - one by one, my friends either turned me down or dropped out after assessing their finances and schedules. Having promised an article to the Oxford Student newspaper, though, I realised I was going to have to go. Alone.

The lonely festival experience didn't really appeal to me. In fact, I was dreading it. I whittled my plans down so that I only had to go for one day, and I wrote some lines in my mind which I could use to approach, and then befriend, strangers. I climbed into the taxi which would take me to the site, feeling nervousness - I was going to conduct my first live, face-to-face, in-the-same-room interview. I also felt pre-emptive boredom though, seeing the day stretching out ahead of me like a desert of solitude.

When I turned up, the festival was muddier than Sonisphere and Hard Rock Calling put together - every walkway was two feet deep, and every step felt like walking on the moon. Zero gravity mud. If I stood still for too long, I'd sink to my ankles, so I kept moving, finding my way to different tents. I've talked about the music and the atmosphere and stuff in my article at the OxStu. The highlights of the smaller acts were the Anything Goes Orchestra, Emperor Chung and Elliott Morris, and disappointingly, there was no-one bad enough for me to use my cruel witticisms. "Never before have I heard a band so bad that the crowd were chanting 'less! less!' at the end of the show" had to stay in my head, where it probably deserves to be, until now.

Once I'd wandered round, I started to get that bored feeling I'd anticipated. Standing in the VIP press area was kind of intimidating - sure, I could see the Jarman brothers talking in the backstage area, and it was awesome, but amongst the cool swaggering thirty-year-old men who were probably all from the NME, I felt unable to grin and cry "IT'S GARY JARMAN". Instead, I had to lean back and pretend that I encountered my heroes every day. Or even better, pretend I had no heroes, like the cynical bastards that are seasoned music journalists. And even then, I got a funny look from someone sitting in a press tent with an Apple Mac and headphones. I repeated to myself the mantra, "cynicism is just defensiveness", then attempted to be defensively cynical enough to fit in.

The boredom and discomfort made me seek out something else to do (or drink), but I was also getting a headache. I had to make the choice between cider and aspirin - I chose, after a long deliberation, a small drink and then a load of painkillers. Luckily, the ginger beer I chose was foul, so I decided to give it away - that'd be a good way to make friends, right? Little did I realise how hard it is, as an individual, to approach groups of strangers. They're all having too good a time, or they're too busy, or too drunk. In the end, I fobbed it off on a woman waiting for her friends at the portaloos and ran off, still alone.

After an hour or so, the better bands started to assuage my feeling of isolation, and I realised that actually, I was having quite a good time. At most festivals, I spend a lot of time worrying that the people around me aren't having fun, or considering when to broach the "Can we leave now? I need the loo and these guys are shit" topic. Here, I was totally free to leave when I stopped enjoying bands. I valued that freedom, but not as much as the freedom to eat two lunches without being judged.

There was another hiccup to come yet, though. I went to watch Sky Larkin, content in the knowledge that I was meeting them for an interview at 4.30pm after they'd been onstage. At 4.20, I nipped into the press area, envisaging a quick turnaround. I should have known that nothing is that simple. At 4.30, I saw Katie Harkin, the lead singer, emerge from the vans and run across the band area, but she didn't then come to meet me. I started wandering about, feeling lost, intimidated by the NME-men, and not nearly drunk enough to relax. It took 45 minutes for them to finally emerge, and then I realised I was in a queue. Feeling like I'd probably been forgotten, I sat in a VIP sun-lounger and tried not to look like an amateur.

At last, Katie and Nestor, Sky Larkin's drummer, greeted me - their manager (who I think, but can't be sure, was Wichita's Gareth Dobson) shepherded them towards me in a paternal fashion, and I did the shaking of hands and smiling that I assumed I was meant to. We disappeared into a press "yurt" and had what turned out to be a very relaxed chat while sitting on the floor, which I wrote up into a proper interview here. After that, I got a lot more comfortable. I'd had some human contact, done what I'd set out to do, and all that was left was to enjoy The Cribs.

Ash gave a brilliant performance on the mainstage, playing and performing to a standard I hadn't expected (even if the lead singer does look like an Irish James Blunt), and then I waited for The Cribs, free to find my own favourite place in the crowd. As I wandered, searching for the best spot for combining jumping with a good sight-line, I was accosted by two incredibly drunk teenage boys. My mistake was humouring their attempts to dance around near me. A smile was too much encouragement. One of them approached me and asked "Who're you with?" I, not wanting to say, "Oh Lord I'm so alone", replied, "I'm with the press". Yes, I embraced nobbishness for a few seconds to raise myself above pity. Instead of the contempt I expected, he was so drunk he replied, "That's so cool", before falling over onto his friend and then attempting to turn the fall into a dance move.

I managed to back away behind someone with a beer belly dramatic enough to hide me (and/or shelter me if it rained). Human interaction, I'd decided, is overrated - I couldn't make friends in a few hours, and moreover, that was fine. Being alone was fine. I'd decided that when The Cribs came on and reminded me why I usually like human beings. They were fantastic - more cheerful than usual, beautifully discordant, as wild as they were ten years' ago, if not more so. Ryan's recent weightloss and depression have coloured his character: in his new diminutive form, he seems fragile, lending more meaning to tracks like 'Back to the Bolthole', and yet he's a more imposing figure for his new sharp, shadowy jawline and uninhibited screaming. The Cribs were always impressive, but ten years on, five studio albums in, their retention of the outsider spirit and the untamed sound is really admirable. The crowd loved them - they had people jumping and singing right back into the audience.

If anything, seeing my favourite band alone was better than seeing them with my friends. My relationship with The Cribs is too intense to share - it's a secular worship, the only worship I allow myself, and I always feel a little bit embarrassed to enjoy them wholeheartedly with friends watching. I want to jump and scream and yell and laugh, like a small child who's had too much sugar watching Disney. On my own, knowing that nobody judging me mattered, I had a great time, full of abandon. I realised as I walked into the night, searching for my taxi back, I'd actually enjoyed being alone. The lonely, sober festival experience had been... good. In fact, I think I recommend it.

Babyshambles release new (but all too familiar) material

A couple of days ago, Babyshambles put a track from their upcoming album onto Youtube, 'Farmer's Daughter' from September's Sequel to the Prequel. This followed the unveiling of the new single, 'Nothing Comes to Nothing', their first single since 'You Talk' reached UK chart #54*, their lowest chart hit to date. This observation may seem superfluous, but the song's chart position was indicative of its low popularity within Babyshambles' fanbase: 2007's Shotter's Nation, produced by Stephen Street (who produced the slick indie of acts such as Blur, Kaiser Chiefs and The Ordinary Boys), disappointed original fans because of its cleanness - to a lot of people, it just sounded uninspired. I liked the second album, but 2004's Down in Albion has lingered in my affections for longer, not for its rawness of sound but for its rawness of emotion, its lyrical brashness and the way that the scanty production allowed the crack(s) to show through. Album Two was certainly lacking in something, though great tracks like 'There She Goes' and 'Carry on Up the Morning' made up for it.

The Youtube commentariat have already cast their vote on 'Nothing Comes to Nothing', and it looks like the disappointment surrounding Shotter's Nation might be up for a renewal. A commenter named Jordan Schmidt announced, "they really nailed that Generic-Indie-Rock sound", whilst Keith Lennox wrote "meh, it's okay, nothing more than that". A more moderate commentator suggested that "the middle of the road is nothing to shy away from". Most fans were crueller. "The old, classic and messy Babyshambles sold out", Jack Davies claims, and one typical voice asked "Where are the bum notes and the passion of the off key vocals..." A lot of those claiming to like the song sound like apologists, one summarising: "fuck man doherty has to make a living somehow". Quite.

Apologism in the music industry is hard to avoid. People get deeply emotionally involved with their favourite bands, and it's hard to let go and admit that the band you've invested in have made a bad album. Some adjust themselves rather than losing the bands - Youtube user BreckRoadLover21, who is clearly familiar enough with The Libertines to name him/herself after one of their earliest records, probably identifies with the band enough to take to their new, cleaner sound. Those who think that the middle of the road is better than the 'Side of the Road' are probably later fans, or fans who've grown out of their old punk spirit, and they're the type of listener that the Angry Young Men of 2004's audience almost certainly reject - would the old Doherty, the one who yelled "THEY'LL NEVER PLAY THIS ON THE RADIO" over 'Fuck Forever', have expected to attract fans who hum 'Delivery' while doing the dishes?

'Farmer's Daughter' was perhaps a relief to more hard-line fans. Featuring Peter's stilted guitar playing - still slightly jarring to the unexpectant listener - the song is more like 'Carry on Up the Morning' than 'You Talk', but it's far from '8 Dead Boys' or 'La Belle et Le Bête'. Where are the reggae beats that hung behind 'Pentonville', or the disjointed guitars and uncoordinated vocals of 'Pipedown'? Some people are seeing this as Babyshambles' early decline. So many rock bands grow up and out of fame - rock 'n' roll was always a cult of youth, and stars like Mick Jagger and Iggy Pop, as well as clearly being exceptions to the rule, seem farcical next to the young bands. Whether it's fair or not is another question, but old rock musicians have to pass through the 'mocking' stage before they reach the Hall of Fame. Most never get there.

I don't know - sometimes I think that even I'm an apologist of sorts. I loved The Libertines, and Babyshambles, and Dirty Pretty Things (Hell! Even Yeti!) but recently, neither Carl Barât nor Pete Doherty seem to have been writing quality songs, and I'm losing faith in Pete as a lyricist in recent years. Perhaps the missing link in the last two Babyshambles album has been a driving, idiosyncratic guitarist - Mik Whitnall is a strong player, but his style belongs more in Oasis than a lo-fi once-punk band.

As a fan, I'm going to give Sequel to the Prequel a try when it comes out in September. The Youtube commenter who suggested "singles are meant to be commercial" might have put his finger on the problem with 'Nothing Comes to Nothing' - as a piece of songwriting, it's kind of generic, but I thought that about 'Killamangiro'; maybe it's too soon to judge the album. Then again, I think a lot of fans are expecting Sequel to the Prequel to be a little bit like the Damien Hirst artwork which adorns its cover - suddenly accepted into the establishment, the canon, and less interesting for it.

*'Side of the Road', released for Record Store Day 2010, didn't chart at all, but it was only released as a limited edition 7" vinyl.

Drew McConnell and some thoughts on covers

Okay, so I interviewed Drew McConnell of Babyshambles fame a few weeks ago. He is the mastermind behind Helsinki, the band I was raving about a few posts ago. Below is the link to it. He's a great guy.

Read the full interview here.

I've also recently reviewed Primal Scream's new album, which has reminded me how awesome Screamadelica is. The last two weeks has unfolded with the internal soundtrack of "I was blind, and now I see! You made a believer out of me!"

I've also been listening, in contrast, to jazz pianist Jamie Cullum. In the past, I've always seen him as a wasted talent, a really talented player with a good voice, working in a dynamic and interesting genre, yet still singing songs barely better than Michael Bublé's. However, his cover of Rihanna's 'Don't Stop the Music' from 2009 is awesome, and stumbling across it recently made me have a rethink.

I went on a Cullum marathon afterwards, still unsure of my feelings towards him more generally; it kind of renewed my former opinions of him. He's a real talent, but he often chooses to cover old jazz standards in a fairly conventional way. Still, the above video impressed me, and it got me thinking about how good Rihanna's song-writers are.

Rihanna's been accepted into the sphere of bland, hyper-sexualised chart pop, presenting the world with ever-more ephemeral dancefloor-fillers and pained ballads. I actually quite like her voice, but I think the way it's autotuned and produced makes the final tracks hard to enjoy. I'm also a bit awkward about her stage persona, and the lyrics and attitudes that go with it on tracks like 'S&M'. But consistently, when I hear her tracks covered, I love them: I was even enthused by the cheesy, country version of 'Cheers (Drink to That)' by the cast of Smash!.

At the risk of alienating any music afficionados (read: snobs), Rihanna's music is growing on me, but only if it's performed by someone else. I have the same issue, perhaps more unusually, with the Smiths.

This month's round-up

I haven't been around to post whimsy this month, so here's a round-up of the music I'm proffering for your enjoyment.

1) Django Django

Yep, I know Django Django are getting to be irritating: whilst not exactly 'old' news, they are 'particularly-hyped-news-that-we've-heard-enough-about' at the moment. If you haven't heard them, Django Django make playful pop-rock laced with nice harmonies, and it's youthful in a way that's hard to pin down.

2) Radiohead

Another band you've heard too much from - Radiohead have been the object of sustained hype for two decades now. When will they run out of steam? We just can't know. King of Limbs is an awesome an album as In Rainbows, and in my opinion, both of them are improvements on their 90s prog-indie. Over the last few releases, they've perfected the no-mood musical nihilism that puts all the world into perspective; you don't have to be miserable to listen to Radiohead anymore.

(I tried to find you a nice proper video but the only live ones didn't have anything on the album version.)

3) Neutral Milk Hotel

Another 90s band I'm late to add to this blog, but an awesome one worth writing about anyway. I've been entranced by 'Oh Comely'; it has a beautiful suspension in the chord progression, simple and elegant, and it grows into something wondrous.

(By contrast, I think this does the song perfect justice.)

I have something lovely for you

Writing about Pete Doherty for the last post got me thinking about Babyshambles, which got me thinking about whether Drew McConnell, the Babyshambassist, was making any music of his own again yet. And he is! If I haven't mentioned it often enough, Drew's in a small project called Helsinki, a band which has recorded tracks for Love Music Hate Racism amongst other things, and played a few gigs here and there too. Below is the director's interviews for the track 'Ampersand', a 2010 obsession of mine.

And no post on Helsinki would be complete without posting this frankly unmissable track's video. 'Ribtickling' is, oddly, my most ever played track on last.fm. Ever. Somehow, it's beating everything by Sonic Youth, Bright Eyes, Reuben, The Libertines... I don't know how I racked up so many plays, but see if you can tell why.

Drew has a good voice, idiosyncratic, and if you've ever wondered who's keeping Pete's vocals on track with perfectly sung backing vocals on any of Babyshambles' material, well, it's Drew McConnell. Drew's now releasing some tracks he recorded after a bad accident which broke a few of his bones last year. He's running it alongside a little art project, but the best bit about it is, of course, the music. Tender, reserved, unassuming acoustic music as it is, he's releasing some really nice songs which I strongly recommend. The most recent is this one, 'The Last Boy Alive', which I think has a really subtly gorgeous melody and a touch of that familiar bitter-sweetness I so love.

More Conor Oberst

Just an update - I am now writing for the music section of the Oxford Student newspaper, so if you ever manage to get your hands on a copy, or fancy clicking here, you can see me in 'print'! It's almost certainly irrelevant to you because you've probably happened across this page by unfortunate accident... however, the topic's quite fun: are music awards still relevant? Do music awards have any legitimate gravity in the indie and rock world? Hear me thrash my editor at the link above. Plug over.

I didn't only start this post purely to link you to more of me - I intended only to post this awesome video. I found this album for £3 in the HMV sale in Oxford today. Pretty cool.

Desaparecidos are back!

10 years ago, Conor Oberst and pals formed a band called Desaparecidos for one passionate, political album. They then gracefully retired into their respective projects, Oberst having said all he had to say at the time about the ridiculousness of fashion, destructive 'progress', materialism and the lie of the American dream. Oberst has always been fairly political, standing up for the rights of Mexicans in the southern states recently, and publicly supporting Obama in the last election.

Now, the band affectionately termed Desa are back, because let's face it, things haven't got much better. New track 'MariKKKopa' was inspired by the comments of Sheriff Joe Arpaio, who recently said it was 'an honour' to be compared to the KKK because it 'means you're doing something'. I have to say, if anything were to inspire me to get a political band together, ridiculous comments like that in my home nation would definitely help. The song, below, is a return to form - straight back in with the angry vocals, speaking through the voice of an all-American racist.

They've also released another track, 'Backsell', which has more ambiguous lyrics but seems to be about the shallowness and cruelty of the fame industries in the US. It's a great reinvigoration - good political music is quite difficult to find at the moment; there's been no great political musical movement in a while. Indie folk mostly wants to tell us about itself, pop wants to tell us about its lovers, rap wants to tell us about its sex life, emo and post-punk want to tell us about their break-ups and kick-ass parties, and screamo... who the Hell knows what that wants to tell us? Hearing new and revived bands making a stand will always be heart-warming to anyone with a revolutionary bone in them.

The Cribs New Interview

Ryan Jarman has been interviewed recently, and it's been written up at length on LouderThanWar.com, and after reading it, I thought it was worth blogging about. The one thing I notice running through the interview is Ryan's determination, but it's almost defensive; some of his word choices really make you feel, as a reader, like there's been some bad shit happening behind the scenes and it's all change, but they're holding on tight to their punk roots to hold themselves steady.

"That’s why we went in the studio with David Fridmann and Steve Albini and just all these people that we’d wanted to work with, you never know what’s going to happen, you never know if it could all end tomorrow or what."

That was the first bit of darkness that I noticed, but I suppose that could just be colloquial fatalism. But then twice, he mentions their health problems, and talks about songs that were recorded during a "dark time" in their recent history. And he's moved back to Wakefield (he moved to London to live with Kate Nash a few years back), so whatever that indicates about his personal life, only he knows. He also mentions an ex whose memory had been "torturing" him for 10 years. Also, of course, he half-heartedly tries to explain away the departure of Johnny Marr, which seems amicable, and yet is never discussed without a hint of sadness. All in all, it's quite a heavy interview.

My (merely conjectural) explanations for this are as follows - 1) he was having a bad day. We all have them, and the Jarmans have a bit of a reputation for malaise. (Gary's very unprofessional Wikipedia page contains the uncited "In the past he has been prone to melancholy.") 2) The interviewer plied Ryan Jarman with barbiturates and then told him his dog had died before launching into the questions. 3) They've had some srsbsns dark times over the last few months, so much so that it's creeping into their public interviews too. This is the least preferable of the three options. (Well, #2 is a bit sinister, but at least it doesn't indicate any real fractiousness.)

Anyway, luckily, the interview picks up with some nice Cribs politics, reinforcing their very clear attitude on sexism (good, good people) and reinstating their desire never to be part of a scene. Ryan also seems quite optimistic about the future, however many black undertones attempt to take the bite out of the happiness.

Click here for the interview in full. It's nice to hear them out there again, and I can't wait to see them live/meet them again. They were always primarily a live band, which is clear in that interview - Ryan is glad they've recorded this new album without too much producer-knob-fiddling, because first and foremost they're a punk trio with punk recording ethics, and punk is best live. Aside from that, they're a band I'd really like to go out for a drink with. I should imagine, in their thick Wakefield accents, they'd be drily hilarious and not even realise it, like in this fantastically hesitant clip. As one of the commenters put it:

"They are the most entertaining people in the world. I would take microwave oven repair classes if they lectured, I would."

New 405 Offering

It's been a while, but I have another 405 post up over at that wonderful website; this time, it's a review of Prince Edward Island, who I gave a staunch but not brilliant 7 for a staunch but not brilliant album.

Recently I've been listening to a lot of Canadian Mother Mother's old output. They're a really fantastic band. Even though you know they never do what you expect, you still don't expect what they do. (E.g. in the chorus of 'Legs Away', both the guitar and singer slide from a minor into a major key in a single bar.)

Below is 'Hay Loft', a great track from the catchier end of their repertoire, one with immediacy and punch (others take longer to warm up, but it's all killer, no filler in the end.) The video isn't the official one, because I feel like that doesn't do the song's atmosphere justice.



That's one of their more whimsical songs, taken from the 2008 album O My Heart. I'd recommend listening to 'O My Heart' and 'Wisdom' if you want to hear some variation within that era of Mother Mother. Either way, go and discover a brilliant band before winter creeps up and you have to open up the darker catalogue.

Some Old New Music

Last night, I was listening to my last.fm Recommendations, which are stunningly accurate, and found Vex Red. (Last.fm draws a picture of me so dangerously close to the reality that I hope it's not possible to do that with things like my purchases, or I'll be a sucker for targeted advertising for the rest of my life.)


Vex Red are a hardcore/electronica band from Aldershot. Or should I say, they were. Just before I had my ear properly in music, a whole wave of '-core' suffix bands were around, before the '-core' suffixing got silly ('Christian crunkcore'?! 'Happy hardcore'?!). In their wake surfaced the recent pop-punk scene. My problem with most of it was that it was over-polished and slick, and almost unfalteringly self-pitying. The singers in pop-punk drawl and cry, and it's unlistenable. The sound of that 00s misery is inseparable in my mind from MySpace and eyeliner and pictures of fringed kids with '<3's in their names, taken from above.

Anyway, that's getting off track - basically, I could stomach only a few of those bands, but some revolutionised my listening habits. Reuben are the most notable, because I still love them - instead of the usual slick production and wailing, they were versatile, particularly in the vocals. Vex Red have the same advantage. Although Terry Abbott doesn't quite have Jamie Lenman's voice, they have a raw edge which gives two fingers to the studio gloss of Madina-Lake-type groups.


But yes, they're gone. Like most music, they're yesterday's news, and they only made a couple of albums. Terry Abbott formed another band, Septembre, in 2002, who soon went on hiatus after the bass player was involved in a car crash. Septembre are also pretty awesome. I've made you a nice widget so you can have a listen and see what I mean about this songwriter, who, if it weren't for last.fm, would probably be only a memory, and definitely not one of mine.

A Couple of Realisations

I googled J Mascis a few days ago, when I received his new album to review, to see if I could find out a little bit about him. I did: I found his website, which, being a lazy soul, I skim-read without clicking away from the home page. And so I started reviewing. Reviewing blind.

Taken by the eloquence and simple honesty of the album, I had a closer look at his website tonight. Not until I clicked "Bio" did I realise I was reviewing the lead singer of world-reknowned early US indie band Dinosaur Jr., one of those bands of which I know I should have a broader knowledge.

It was one of those moments that proves, rather cruelly, that I listen to critically acclaimed artists differently. Because that inoffensive Americana became a Hell of a lot more interesting the moment I'd read the name 'Dinosaur Jr'. I don't know why: perhaps it's natural to bow to the status, to the greater knowledge of aged critics who have a consensus on a band's brilliance. Perhaps. Or perhaps it's respect for someone who has stayed in the business, a success story. I don't like the idea that my views are affected by fame, because it messes with objectivity, but what can you do except not read Bio pages? And you'd be criticised for that. It's the same with massive bands like Radiohead - how can you listen to that impartially?

Also, incidentally, I walked past John Lydon, AKA Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols yesterday in Birmingham. Flanked by two men in black suits, he looked utterly silly in a mustard-ish beige get-up; I looked remiss at his costume before I realised I was staring at the lead singer of a band who have 89 plays in my last.fm library...



It strikes me that the only thing that prevents these stars from being 'real' people, unrecognisable in the street, is that they so often try to attract attention - ridiculous yellow outfit and bodyguards? It seems desperate to me. Not to offend massive Lydon fans; he's just difficult to respect for his clawing to be in the spotlight.

I said to my boyfriend, "We just walked past Johnny Rotten."
Jozef, hardly a fan, replied, "Oh, was that who he was?"

Reporting Back on Carl, Belle and Sebastian and Radiohead

When The 405 originally posted news of Carl Barât's new album and tour dates, following the tumbleweed came the comment, "Who's he?"


Carl Barât was the co-frontman of the influential but sadly disbanded rock band The Libertines. After two chaotically recorded albums and a Hell of a lot of druggery, he went on to front Dirty Pretty Things, whose demise was signalled by arguments and a weak second release well before they ultimately split in late 2008. Recently announced a father-to-be of London singer Edie Langley's baby, Carl Barât released a self-titled album this October.

I have to say, Carl is at his best when playing fast, Django Reinhardt-influenced riffs and snarling into the mic like the Angry Young Man he used to be. This album showcases his softer, piano-lead side. Where Pete Doherty, his recognised other half, succeeded with his gentle poetic lyrics and endearingly idiosyncratic inability to sing, Carl appears lacklustre when he's not attacking a fretboard. The whole album is a little hard to get into, and the lyrics try for archaic and often don't quite hit the mark. Plus, the cover image is the biggest testament to narcissism since... well, The Libertines' 'Narcissist'.


It's not bad though, considering a few years ago, Carl hated going onstage alone. It showcases competent songwriting and some enticing listens, like my favourite 'The Fall' (even if it does contain the lines "upon a sticky nightclub floor, a wilted rose I found, I snatched her from the clutches of an evil-smelling boar"). I don't think I was expecting particular greatness despite being a Carl fan, but I reckon Carl Barât's debut needs a Pete, John or Gary, a Didz or an Anthony, just to take that songwriting and bring it to life.


Belle and Sebastian, songsmiths of the twee pop age, have brought out an album recently too. Write About Love doesn't try for anything pretentious, it's that beautifully melodic, glistening pop that it was predicted to be. Strong like 2006's The Life Pursuit, perfectly produced and intensely listenable, I fell in love with Write About Love on first listen. It has a few more dips in quality than their last album, perhaps, but is just as musically adept: they have really developed their style this last few albums, and it's only got more lovable.

My final comment is probably the most filled with passion. In Rainbows. Yes, I'm incredibly late, don't blame me, I've been busy. Gorgeous chords, ingenious melodies flowing over and under atmospheric vocals, edgy drums, compelling lyrics... Radiohead may have made the news for their innovations in methods of release, but they've also made a brilliant album. There is a reason they're one of the most 'listened to' bands on the planet. Below is an incredibly cool video for 'Bodysnatchers' by Glann Marshall.

Bodysnatchers - Zeno Music Visualiser from Glenn Marshall on Vimeo.

French Music, and Being a Reviewer

Currently, I have an article up on The 405 which I'm quite proud of:

France - Them and Us in Music

While I recommend heavily that you go and check it out if you like foreign language music, or just to learn a little bit about another culture, it serves to make another point. My responses so far have included:

This is an awesome primer.

and:

Anyway, great article!

Thanks to the commenters for those little rewards, because I have to say, if anyone chooses to comment usually, it's to bash me and my opinions. Now, I've had a couple of fair criticisms in my time, where people haven't agreed with my comparisons to other bands or something. Those I can take, because certain areas of pop and folk aren't my forte, and although I do think I write decent reviews, sometimes they're not the most informed.

However, other times I get "F*x!ing b*%£! this review is s$*t, this is the best f%^!ing band to exist ever, you d*£&head." Now, the last of these examples was for a band called Thread Pulls, who, for all the swearwords in the world, are just a bit shit. It thinks itself all very arty with weird titles and strange echoey synths, but the singer can't sing, the lyrics are crap and there really isn't any reason I'd ever listen to it sober.

That is, as I'd admit, only my opinion. Whatever the fans are hearing between the lines that keeps Thread Pulls in bread and water is beyond me, but I'll admit that I could be missing some point or other. Maybe.

But eh, I'm not underqualified just because I don't like it. If everyone 'qualified' likes it, why isn't there hype for this band? I think it's because they're not all that great. They grate at best. Anyway, music is one of the most difficult of the arts to judge on quality alone: personal preferences always make for subjective reviewing.

So for all the haters out there: remember reviews are just reviews. Everyone knows it's mostly opinion, and unless the reviewer has made some unjust factual claims or slandered the band, swearing at the reviewer will only make you (and by extension, all fans of the band) look pathetic. Going by some daft pseudonym only reinforces this image of you.

Sonisphere @ Knebworth 2010

It's been a while since my last post; I've been enjoying the summer for reasons other than music, which is a surprise even to me. Since I last wrote, I've done several musical things, like go to metal fest Sonisphere, get into Bright Eyes, and reboot my dead iTunes.

The most important of those being Sonisphere.



On July 30th, I went to Sonisphere with my boyfriend. If you read any of the posts below, you'll know that metal is not really my favourite genre. I was definitely one of the girlfriends there whose sole purpose was to keep the tent warm - I made myself enjoy it anyway. I only saw a handful of bands: when most of the names are unfamiliar to you, you never quite know where to go.

We caught a few minutes of Gary Numan and Europe on the Friday night, and that was all. For the rest of the time, we explored the campsite and arena. Large numbers of men in tutus and girls in Newrocks wandered the fields, graffiting the much adored 'Pantera' on tents and queuing for portaloos, whose scent defined my weekend.

Alice Cooper was the best on the Friday night. Onto the Saturn Stage he strutted as the sun went down, dressed ridiculously with a myriad of wrinkles criss-crossing his face; he launched into 'School's Out', and the crowd's mixture of amusement and adulation added to the great atmosphere. From there, Alice proceeded to die onstage about five times, kill various hideously made-up humans and sing over his few-chord showman's punk. It was fun, and very tiring.



The first night was soundtracked by random cheers which spread across the campsite like mexican waves, skanky people talking and smoking shit, and the calls and jeers of drunken insomniacs.



On Saturday, we saw Family Force 5 on the Apollo Stage in the morning. They are incredibly scene, described by the term 'Christian Crunkcore' (?) and talking a lot about dancing. And dancing. Wearing lots of leather. That day we also saw Andrew O' Neill in the comedy tent, who definitely topped Tim Minchin, the act he was opening for. Rammstein finished the evening. I've never seen the deal with Rammstein: it's dull to me, repetitive and humourless. I enjoyed the stage show - fire, fire and more fire - but I wasn't particularly bothered when they went off early. A beachball ricocheting off a bald man's head and a mass singalong of 'Du Hast' were my highlights of the set.

On Sunday, my day started badly when my boyfriend's uncle arrived early and had to go back home, meaning we thought we were going to have to get the train home. Not having washed for two days, this seemed a harrowing sentence, so we didn't enjoy the morning. Finally, it was agreed he'd come back in the evening, so we were free to enjoy the empowering reggae metal of Skindred, who were bested only by Alice Cooper's set. Later on, we saw Kylesa, a hard punk band who headlined the Jaegermeister Stage, then Pendulum, and ultimately, Iron Maiden.

All weekend, girls had been baring their breasts to big screens, but it got stupid during Pendulum. There were so many incidents of chest-exposure that even the laddish men in the crowd stopped cheering, and it became a bored expectation of the women on camera. I got pissed off by the misogyny and it ruined Pendulum for me. We went for a wander before Iron Maiden, immersing ourselves in the atmosphere of all the expensive food tents, the legal highs tents, then spending too much on the 10p machines at the amusement arcade.



Iggy Pop was weak. He looked even more decrepit on stage than Alice Cooper had, but unlike Cooper's, the show was without fun, and unless you were in the pit, a mere irritation en route to Iron Maiden. They were also disappointing, for me. Rammstein had burned things. Alice Cooper had died. Iron Maiden didn't do anything fun which a less-metal fan could watch, Bruce Dickinson just talked in clichés before playing the songs, straight.



I think the crowd enjoyed it, though. It's just not my taste. My boyfriend didn't much care for their setlist either however, so we left early and packed up to go home.

And that was Sonisphere. On the journey home, sleeping on Jozef in the car, I had a heavy rock band playing invented songs in my ears, vaguely Metallica, and they didn't go away for days. We were exhausted and disgustingly unwashed, but happy. Very happy. It was my first festival, and I've discovered the charm of a permanent hum of music, overheard comments ("Slayer were amazing. I love my cock."), and nighttime fairgrounds lighting up littered fields.

Three Artists You Should Listen To

1. Reuben. Oh come on, do I need to plug them any more than I already do? Explosive guitar riffs, life-defining atmosphere, brilliant lyrics sung brilliantly over brilliant chord changes, expression I could only dream about, muscular power and sensitivity in perfect balance. Just do it. Please.

2. Belle and Sebastian. If you're inclined towards the indie end of pop, twee, light indie, anything like that, then you've probably heard Belle and Sebastian already. They're elusively ubiquitous, managing to tiptoe through the lives of so many, enchanting them, entrancing them, but staying out of the hype machine which rules the music industry. They plaster the summer straight over the top of this long British winter; they are a billboard advertisement for summery cocktails or The Seaside. The wry wit and tongue-in-cheek lyrical edge in many of the tracks counteracts the twee melodies and enhances the charm of the albums. I'd highly recommend them, even in winter.

3. Julian Casablancas. I like his dirty electro, his monotonous growl of a voice, the lyrics which catch the ear, the complex games he plays with the chromatic scale. But most of all, however bad I feel for it, I like his photos.

Jamie Lenman Interview and Update

Writing for The 405 gave me a viable excuse a few weeks ago to email illustrator, musician, and all round Great Guy Jamie Lenman, lead singer of Reuben. He agreed, and right now, I have 2 items on the home page of The 405, an interview with Jamie and a review of the tUnE-yArDs' new single, Real Live Flesh. My, unnecessary capitalisation pisses me off. It's hard to type, and if they thought it would make the name memorable, they were frankly wrong. I can never remember it. It's a good job the single is worth a listen, really.



My friend brought up an interesting point the other day. Should music criticism be as huge as it is now? Being a voluntary music writer, I tilted an eyebrow and rushed to the defensive guns of "Of course, then how would you ever find out whether music was worth listening to or not?"

But if that was my main argument, I was struggling. To be told what you like and dislike in music is the easy way out, and it's part of the reason why fashions still have their cold fingers laced around the ventricles of the modern music scene. (To reiterate: music isn't good because it sold well in your peergroup, or simply because it's new, and that's what fashion dictates.) Other arguments for music criticism are forced: if there were no reviews, there would still be adverts, the radio, sites like last.fm and Spotify, articles on new music... so you can't say that it is our only gateway to music.

What other arguments are there for music criticism? It's always irritating to hear our favourite artists being slammed by critics who we would usually respect, (or not), especially as every sensible person knows that while there are technical qualities to albums, most of our judgment of music is subjective. Music criticism can make or break careers, and most of it is guided by peer opinions and personal prejudices anyway.

Then again, my best retaliation came with the argument 'there has to be a filter in the music system'. In businesses, there are promotions up for offer, you get increasing salaries and responsibilities and jobs with each step up. You could not impose a system like that on the arts. Criticism, however harsh and demoralising, can give a band the boost it needs to get onto the (albeit unevenly runged) ladder, and then offer educated opinions on what should and could do very well. As long as the reader can identify whatever spin has been put on the article, and can think for themselves, criticism can be the most helpful way to separate the cream from the milk. And the off milk from the good milk...

And of course, everyone wants to do it. Most people who love music have sneaky reviews somewhere in their computer, or in their minds, ready for conversation; many write online, or for magazines. It's a natural urge, putting into words what music makes you feel, think, do.

Music can change lives, and the kinder end of crit acknowledges that.

Have a read of my items on The 405 anyway (or not); I'm really glad the website's taking off. I'm not just spouting spiel when I say it's an exciting thing to be part of, as it's growing so fast, getting so much more professional and organised. If you can get yourself to any of The 405 nights in London, I'm assured they are amazing nights out, and Oliver Primus would appreciate your company!

New Article at The 405

A few days ago, I had the feature space on The 405 homepage with my rather short article on Crossover Artists. You can read it here, at The 405, or hold on for my most recent review in a couple of weeks. Finally I've got an album worth reviewing, LoneLady's new release Nerve Up, so that will be going up at some point. Hopefully, I'm starting my Guide To: Sonic Youth once I've given Confusion is Sex and Experimental Jet Set, Trash & No Star proper listens, and read the biography.

I'm shameful to announce that I do not have any more gigs booked at all. I've been waiting for The Strokes/Carl Barât/Belle & Sebastian/Sonic Youth to tour Britain for a long time, but I've been unlucky, it seems.

The Libertines' fanblog 'Breck Road Lovers' seems to have gone dead since Christmas. I hope the woman who runs it is okay, and coming back soon: she fueled my obsessive following of Carl & Pete with daily titbits for about a year, and it would be a shame to lose that reliable and eclectic news source.

Article on Album Art and Other News

I've done a short article slash synopsis on the relevance of album art, on The 405. I was quite proud of it, although I appear to have constructive criticism already...onwards and upwards I suppose. I can only get better.

(Or worse. But shush.)

Now, onto music. The Cribs have a favourite band, namely Comet Gain, and as a devoted Cribs fan who usually respects their musical opinion, I searched them out. I realised Cribs are extremely like them - more similar than 'influenced'.

Listen to these two, even only for a little while, and play spot the difference. Well, they're not that alike, but there are very clear similarities. They both start with one of those repetitive rhythmic guitar intro riffs, and then the lyrics come in - simple and based around the naïve concept of innocent platonic love. They both totter along to about 3/4 of the way through with simple chorus/verse structure, pretty but loose vocal harmonies, and come to a mildly sketchy but contrasting section, which peters out to an ending with lots of echo and feedback, fading out.





See what I mean? Either way, it's irrelevant, I like them both. Though not specifically those songs: try I Close My Eyes To Think of God by Comet Gain (which is not Goddy) and compare with We Share the Same Skies by The Cribs. Not as similar, but both better tracks.

Peter Doherty arrested.

For drink driving, and driving without a license. In possession of class A drugs. Again.

Hopes of an imminent Libertines reunion are dashed; Carl Barât said he would get back together with Pete if Pete could stay off the drugs. And Pete agreed, as he always does - but they were false promises, as they always are. I was naïve to think it would turn out any other way - I was so hopeful for a Libertines reunion, tour, and then new material (which I am detemined would be good enough to sustain their legacy, even if it wasn't as youthful and invigorated as it was ten years ago).

What that man does with his life is his choice, but I know many fans will be disappointed now. I don't like it when Pete gets dragged through the tabloids, ends up in prison, has his musical creativity put on pause by the law and the media. I don't think any fans do.

Like he once sang:
"My boy who will believe your lies? Noone's going to sell you any alibis."