Review of Sigur Rós' 'Kveikur' LP for Artrocker magazine

Just like any other material by the Icelandic outfit, Kveikur, the seventh studio album to come from Sigur Rós, is steeped in pressure. Despite not being the biggest band in the world in terms of popularity, they are one of, if not the, biggest sounding bands in the world, and with that comes a certain amount of expectation. Sigur Rós are not only deemed the leader in the already much applauded Scandinavian post-rock scene and not a whole lot of people would complain were this status to be extended to the entire world of music. With their trademark sound and lead singer Jónsi’s so very falsetto omnipresent vocals, they were already taking music places. Add to that their art capabilities that go beyond the musical medium (such as their made up Hopelandic vocabulary and The Valtari Mystery Film Experiment) and you can begin to understand where all the pressure comes from. Fortunately, take a listen to quite literally the first note of lead single Brennisteinn, which opens the LP, and you’ll see that Sigur Rós continues to be innovative, that Sigur Rós is embracing the pressure, and in ways you wouldn’t expect.

Brennisteinn, after all, is an aggressive song, an adjective you wouldn’t often associate with Sigur Rós’ typical ambience and Jónsi’s delicate tones. The first ‘note’ of the album is one that is dominant and ominous, a klaxon-like sound that director Christopher Nolan so likes to illustrate the impending doom that often features in his films. Despite this kind of sound being one that isn’t ‘Sigur Rós’ (if anything most would regard the now three-piece to be the antithesis of such characteristics), it actually turns out to be the defining feature of Kveikur. Bláþráður is held together by reverb that wouldn’t be as out of place in the death metal scene so prevalent in Scandinavia as one would expect. Perhaps it is telling that the title track, with its distorted drums and heavy reliance on the bottom three guitar strings, is the heaviest song on the album? It takes some doing to make Jónsi sound even remotely like a rockstar and yet this happens far more than one would expect.

This isn’t to say it’s all doom and gloom musically speaking. Just as the LP’s lead single is representative of Sigur Rós’ new found maliciousness, so too does is its follow-up, Ísjaki, represent a quality that is just as rife and superbly executed throughout Kveikur – the Sigur Rós quality. Ísjaki is composed of the ever favoured sweeping strings and a surprisingly sing-along-able chorus, Hrafntinna has the big industrial sounding drums and eloquent layered vocals, and Rafstraumur has the ability to boost morale and provoke a real lust for life in a way that pretty well every other Sigur Rós song can. These are the generally accepted traits of Sigur Rós. Or, rather, they were.

With the arrival of Kveikur, and its seamless fusing of characteristics that so very are and so very aren’t ‘Sigur Rós’, how the band will be identified has changed somewhat. It will, and can, no longer be the quality of music that will differentiate their art from their peers. It will be the quality of innovation. This, surely, is the biggest compliment of all.

4/5

Released: 17^th June 2013 (XL Recordings)

Review of Pure X's 'Crawling Up The Stairs' LP for Artrocker magazine

This album is a relationship.

In some ways, Crawling Up The Stairs is a relationship in the way you'd expect. With song titles such as Things in my Head and Someone Else, it will come as no surprise to hear that lead vocalist Nate Grace is not afraid to simply put it out there in his lyrics, say it how it is. Singing "Take my hand, walk into the sun" on the former and growling "Make me feel something, baby, I don't give a fuck" on the latter, there certainly aren't any complex metaphors, sophisticated similes and other such figures of speech your old A-Level teacher used to get his/her kicks out of. Whether that's a good thing or not is open to interpretation.

The aforementioned lyrics do more than just provoke a discussion about complexity, as well as the lack of, in simplicity, though; they also give an indication of the undecided musical tone. Whilst Shadows and Lies' "What the Hell is real anymore?" line is fairly representative of the lyrical theme consistent throughout the album (who wanted to listen about a relationship going well, anyway?), this is by no means to say it is all doom and gloom. The chiming guitars of Things in My Head, for example, sound as if they're composed of the 60s vibes that made the 70s the decade it was, but the delightfully titled Written in the Slime provides a far more accurate portrayal of the LP, and in more ways than one. Robotic-like vocal effects, Jesse Jenkins' bass cooly bumbling on in the background, general eeriness are features that the album predominantly consists of. The issue is that this kind of sound can only be used so much. Rinse it for all its worth in the manner Pure X does and it is only a matter of time before it grows tired.

Unfortunately the temperamental, haphazard quality that so often dominates relationships does the same with this new LP from the Austin trio. This isn’t to say there aren’t moments of brilliance. The almost surf pop sounds of Thousand Year Old Child gives a glimpse of what wholehearted goodness Pure X can produce when in the mood. Grace hitting the high notes so competently one song (opener Crawling Up The Stairs) and snarling with such emotion quite literally the next (Someone Else) shows a versatility only the most talented of musicians have in their armory. But just as a versatility of quality and stability can be the downfall of a relationship, so too is this the case with Pure X’s Crawling Up The Stairs. A real shame as the creativity, the innovation, the technical standard is there, but it’s still the all too often bad moments you’ll remember.

This album is a relationship.

2/5

Released: 12^th May 2013 (Merok Records)

Review of Edwyn Collins' 'Understated' LP for Artrocker magazine

Given his veteran status (his previous band, Orange Juice, started out in the late seventies) and recent health problems (a brain haemorrhage suffered less than a decade ago reduced him to repeating the four phrases ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘Grace Maxwell’ and ‘the possibilities are endless’ over and over), Edwyn Collins’ Understated is refreshingly youthful. Even more refreshing, though, is that it is youthful in several respects.

Musically, it has the same energy, the same buzz, of the much anticipated debut album from the latest hot act that NME has no doubt already labelled ‘the saviour of guitar music’. Whilst Too Bad, for example, has the same optimistic sound that made earlier material from The Beach Boys so seductive, It’s A Reason shows that Collins and his backing band are quite content to go at a slightly slower pace, to let the music do the talking. And, with the backing band Collins had behind him during the recording of Understated, no wonder; a supergroup-worthy combination of Primal Scream, The Pretenders, Dexys and Sex Pistols, with such talent to hand there were never going to be The Strokes Angles-era like fracases. You can tell.

Another beneficiary of the likes of Barrie Cadogan and Paul Cook both metaphorically and literally playing off each other is the innovation evident on the record. Whilst Collins stays true to his guitar-driven pop for the most part, and there’s the occasional lack of ‘edge’ (the chorus of Dilemma consists of little more than one simple line on a loop), there’s real diversity that often only the most artistic of musicians can achieve; Carry On, Carry On sounds as if it came before even Collins’ time, whereas by contrast 31 Years has a hint of the kind of surf pop that so many of today’s NME-heralded bands try so desperately – and thus fail – to achieve. It even sounds as if there are aspects of Baby Jean that were inspired by the parts of sunny Spain.

Most importantly, though, given his dice with death just eight years ago, the album gives the impression that Collins’ mindset is enormously rejuvenated. Even better, the Scotsman knows it. Almost four songs in a row, Collins makes his lust for life quite clear: on Forsooth he is feeling “alive” and “reborn”, there are no prizes for guessing where he is “living” and “breathing” on In The Now, with the album finishing with an ode to how “good” love has been to him that is as heartfelt as it is grateful.

Back in 2005, Collins repeating his belief in the possibilities being endless was considered a negative consequence of the brain haemorrhage. Now who, most probably quite literally, is laughing?

3/5

Released: 25th March 2013 (AED Records)

Review of Man Like Me's 'Pillow Talk' LP for Artrocker magazine

The double-dip recession, Kate Middleton, Bon Iver. The world ain’t half a bit dreary. But you know what hot electro-pop duo Man Like Me are doing? They’re busy not knowing about such mediocre matters and, fortunately, creating music that reflects this.

Remember the newspapers your parents used to read when you were a child, the ones that you’d almost certainly be engulfed by were you to attempt to tackle them yourself? Whilst the modern day world is still very much represented by the scary text that seemingly stretched for miles and miles, Pillow Talk is the cartoon strips towards the back that helped take you away from the humdrum of day-to-day life and into the colourful labyrinths of your imagination; Pillow Talk is enormously reminiscent both musically and lyrically.

Although Man Like Me is fairly competently represented musically speaking in new single, Sleaze, with its upbeat drums and perky sync-style tunes, the London based band’s ‘sound’ is still as hard to pin down as a kid coked up on sugar; Peculiar has tinges of Ricky Martin Latino love, Love Me Tonight makes use of layered brass similar to that exploited by David Byrne and St. Vincent, whilst absolutely no-one knows where to start with catchy-as-it-is-bizarre banger, Squeeze (except, perhaps, Radio 1 DJ Annie Mac who once played the track back to back). For the most part, though, Pillow Talk is full of the kind of songs a leisure centre would’ve played whilst you and your mates jumped around on their trampolines for your twelfth birthday party – loveable, albeit in small doses.

The representation of childhood continues amongst the lyrics on the album. Whilst it was to be expected that the duo would sing about their earlier years from the perspective of the age they are now – Peculiar, for example, predominantly discusses random items of modern day life and what the alternatives were “back in our day” – it nonetheless comes as a refreshing surprise when matters that were important as a child are addressed as if still a child; Fleetwood Mac contemplates the pros and cons of being on Pay As You Go or a contract, whilst the chorus of Squeeze is, somehow, a more childish version of Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes.

And this is what Man Like Me and Pillow Talk is all about. Whilst their actual music and lyrics might not save the world, the happy-go-lucky mentality it represents just might.

Nick Beaver

Released: 3^rd March 2013

Review of The Longsands' 'Little Britain' single for Artrocker magazine

Back in 2010, BBC Tyne allocated The Longsands three words to sell themselves. Two of the words they chose were ‘commercial’ and ‘anthemic’. Given that I consider myself to be a music fan, and Artrocker a magazine for music fans, this was not a promising start. Unfortunately matters do not improve a whole lot when it comes to the Newcastle-based group’s latest single, Little Britain, as, sure enough, two words that would aptly describe it are ‘commercial’ and ‘anthemic’: ‘commercial’ in the sense that the verses are driven by the same monotonous drum beat and musical ‘innovation’ as, say, any of David Guetta’s material ever, and ‘anthemic’ in that it contains such deep, philosophical lyrics as ‘Let’s raise the roof and do it for all our children unless you want them all to be their angels’. Great if you’re a thirteen year old girl who finds the music played during the sob stories on Xfactor as compelling as the montages themselves. Unfortunately I am not one of them, and neither should you be.

2/5

Released: 25th February 2013 (Unknown Soldier Records)

Review of Birds Vs. Planes' 'Narrow Angles' for Artrocker magazine

Jenny Jones, lead vocalist of Carlisle band Birds Vs Planes, is an emotional gal, and she and her band don’t half make you feel it on their debut EP, Narrow Angles. Things start off bright and breezy, with Jones’ allowing her seemingly extravert personality to shine through on opener and lead single, Relative Worth, whilst the outfit sound especially similar to very-LA based duo Best Coast, only less glum and sounding as if they’re actually capable of raising a smile.

Matters turn for the worse towards the end of the record, though by no means musically: the first half of Little Blue being not too dissimilar to The xx illustrates an ultra-sensitive side most wouldn’t have expected the five-piece to have in them, with the fact that Jones transformed this sorrow into anger being especially evident on moody closer Shock Tactics. Both the band and listener dabbling in the entire emotional spectrum, then.

What’s remarkable is that although they provoke such feelings in so many dimensions, when it comes to producing the music BVP stick to so few – there are no frills, they don’t try to be anything they’re not, and the EP is enormously listenable as a result.

4/5

Released by Music Bakery in late January 2013

Review of Darwin Deez's 'Songs For Imaginative People' for Artrocker magazine

Mikhail Gorbachev. Not the way most would expect a review of Darwin Deez’s Songs For Imaginative People to start but the former Soviet statesman is to play a surprisingly large part in this piece. To start, he is given a mention in just the second song of the album, You Can’t Be My Girl. It is not so much his inclusion in the lyric that is important (Deez merely uses a female’s fascination with the ex-General Secretary for another reason as to why she cannot ‘be his girl’), rather it is what his inclusion represents – the utterly haphazard, though wholly intended, nature of this LP.

In Alice, for example, Deez jumps between pre-chorus and chorus as much as he changes note on guitar (a lot), whilst on No Love it is the vocals that aren’t too sure whether they are coming or going. Similarly to Gorbachev’s dissolution of the Soviet Union, the whole affair is bittersweet – just as those in charge before Gorbachev’s time found that though the old Chairman of the Supreme Soviet’s plans were at first difficult to listen to, they and the country as a whole would soon go onto (quite literally) greener pastures, so too will the listener initially struggle to muster Deez’s seemingly disorderly approach, only to come to realise it is exactly this that gives it it’s character. For example, just as it is easy to imagine the heartache felt by the aforementioned law graduate of Moscow State University when he lost his childhood sweetheart to leukemia in 1999, so too can one feel the hurt of the multi-instrumental New Yorker when he describes on Chelsea’s Hotel how he never got the chance to lose the love of his crush as he never attained it in the first place.

Just as you weren’t expecting this review to be more history lesson than musical opinion, upon first listen to Songs For Imaginative People I hadn’t a clue which way the music was to turn (and I still don’t!) – and yet both of us are far richer for it. It is here where today’s lesson is concluded.

4/5

Released by Lucky Number Music on 11th February 2013

Review of rerelease of Satellites' 'SATELLITES.01' for Artrocker magazine

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” “Don’t be silly, Mr. Savile didn’t touch you there!” “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” That’s what all our parents used to say, isn’t it? And they were always right, weren’t they? Wrong. Although the first two remain fairly sound to this day, it’s a different story when it comes to the last two. I’ll let the BBC attempt to explain their way out of the second to last one, and I’ll take issue with the last one. I believe, after all, that SATELLITES.01 can be massively judged, quite literally, by its cover. The cover is a combination ofmatte and metallic silver, the artwork printed onto the actual CD looks like asatellite – it all points towards the idea that Satellites is inspired by everything otherworldly. So why does this lead to my doubting that a book should never be judged by its cover? Because SATELLITES.01 sounds exactly how it looks. It produces bleeps and bloops, just as a satellite would – the beats on Railway Line are not so dissimilar to those which used to be favoured by The Postal Service and Best Days Of Our Lives could well fit in on Paul Banks’ recent LP, both of which are connoisseurs of music verging on the ‘techy’ side of things. It’s complicated, just as (I imagine) a satellite is – throughout the album there is much going on, with the multiple layers of Sale Of The Century and the curious combination of acoustic guitar and electronica on Mindreading. Although it is easy to admire the complex nature of Satellites’ style, the appreciation becomes that much higher when it considered that Satellites is comprised of only one man – Englishman living in Copenhagen, Johnny Vic. Come to think of it, maybe Johnny’s getting more help from outer space than we first thought?

4/5

Released by Vesterbrother/Pias UK on 21st January 2013

Review of Dan Mangan & Jason Collett at Scala, London for Artrocker magazine

The audience is in a surprisingly jovial mood. ‘Surprising’ not in the sense that the ability of the performers tonight are a perfect excuse to bring on the Winter blues a few weeks premature, ‘surprising’ in the sense that, more often than we’d like to admit, gigs can be slightly stressful affairs. Why is it that the token abnormally tall man always has particularly frizzy hair and chooses to stand in a place which blocks my view? Why is it because we’re near the front of the stage we choose to unnecessarily bunch ourselves up like sardines? Is that guy in the mosh pit trying to hurt me or does he always make such good use of his elbows? Whilst it’s unlikely even the beginnings of a mosh pit are to form tonight (support act Jason Collett is an alt-country kind of guy), you get the point. It’s the crowds wooping reaction to Mr. Collett revealing his originating from Toronto that reveals why exactly the good vibes are so plentiful this evening. Chances are a good percentage of the room have guzzled down an amount of maple syrup a dietician would recommend in a lifetime just today – yep, I’m surrounded by Canadians.

Despite my being conscious that the Britishness inside me is doing its utmost best to combat against such communion amongst strangers, it has to be said that Jason Collett, unfortunately, is a little dull. This is not to say he wasn’t good; his guitar plucking was more than adequate, his vocals particularly well suited to the style of music. His membership of Canadian indie-rock supergroup Broken Social Scene only confirms this. It was the style of music that was the problem. Whilst Collett’s sweet tunes are perfect to have on whilst chilling in your bedroom or in the background of a dinner party, they are not the most engaging in a live setting. What’s especially frustrating is that, with a particularly strong set of chords here and a patch of vocals that excitedly rises beyond a whisper there, every now and then he threatens to break out of the plod-along pace he’s evidently grown used to but never quite makes it.

You can imagine the shock, then, when Dan Mangan and his backing band burst onto the stage with a fierce pound of drums to signal the start of new song We Want To Be Pleasantly Surprised, Not Expectedly Let Down.

It’s possible that the content solidarity of Collett is having an influence, but Mangan & Co. seem remarkably layered. So often bands with multiple members believe strength comes in numbers and, as a result, each musician desperately tries to cram their personality into an already overcrowded song, but Dan Mangan is not one of those bands. Time and time again the four remaining members (Mangan included), musically and even sometimes literally, take a step back to allow one of their comrades to have their moment (particular beneficiaries of this attitude are a violin solo stretching to five minutes and a closing of Robots with Mangan standing on some speakers to be best placed to conduct the adoring audience below in unison). 

This ‘there’s no ‘i’ in ‘team’’ philosophy displayed by the indie-rockers really typifies the atmosphere and evening in general. It’s fitting, then, that the set is brought to a close with Mangan amongst the audience, singing So Much For Everyonejust like the rest of us.

Review of Maia's 'Pepper Stars' for Artrocker magazine

“Here at the Olympic Games in London, our attention is presently focused on the 100m hurdles final. And they’re off! And, well, what we’re witnessing here can only be described as quite bizarre; the favourite in Lane 4, Maia, is not bothering with jumping over the hurdles and simply running through them. Unsurprisingly, they are being considerably slowed down as a result.” Not only does this metaphor recall the high spirits provoked by this summer’s Olympics, albeit with the help of a slight twisting of reality, it also handily captures my feelings about Maia’s new album, Pepper Stars. The fact that they are the favourites in my fictitious hurdles final represents the idea that the quartet from Huddersfield have the natural talent. That much is obvious. The finger work in the latter half of opener Alien, for example, could not be tighter. The breakdown in Where Else But Earth uses the combination of guitar and various elements of brass to great effect. Constant Play and Towards The Onion, which help close the album, show that the band have some really strong song writing in them. It is what the imaginary hurdles represent that so peg the band back, though – their inability to take themselves seriously. You’d struggle to find a chorus more plain irritating than that of Zuma Aluma, Dear iO features such nonsensical lyrics as ‘I headbutt your position in the coldest reaches of space’ and More Strangely Than The Moon contains more genres than most bands explore in their whole career. Whilst I’m ready to admit that joke acts aren’t exactly to my taste, I can still nonetheless appreciate that there is appeal – one only has to look at the sales of Tenacious D and The Darkness to see that. The issue with Pepper Stars, and perhaps Maia in general, though, is that it’s not obvious enough whether they’re an act to take seriously or to laugh at. If a band doesn’t know how they want to be interpreted, how can their listeners be expected to know? It’s frustrating as the band clearly have the ability to be a great example of one or the other, but instead try to be both. It is this that ultimately fails them.

2/5

Review of 'Just Music Cafe Vol. 4: The Ambient Zone' for Artrocker magazine

Now, I know what you’re thinking: that a review about an album called The Ambient Zone will send you to sleep just as quickly as the music in question does, that there’s only so much one can say about an LP which is bound to be pretty well entirely comprised of slightly variable noises that all suspiciously sound like they came from a whale. And you’d be right. Lucky, then, that this is no ordinary ambience album. Sure The Ambient Zone makes use of the stereotypical flute-sounding instrument (Digitorial’s Sense) and has cringe-inducing song titles that could only be on an album of this kind (Viragi’s Slowtide), but what relaxation album doesn’t? It is telling that, whilst it might get the job done, Marconi Union’s Weightless (voted by Time Magazine to be the 11^th best invention of 2011), compared to its counterparts, is particularly unexceptional. Whilst it must be admitted that none of these tracks will get the heart pumping like, say, the prices of The Rolling Stones reunion tour will, the number of moments that seize the listener’s attention for musical reasons is unexpectedly high. The combination of piano and guitar on Dan Arborise’s Flicker is particularly effective, for example, Honeyroot makes good use of especially soothing vocals (Radiant) for another, whilst the conveniently named Loner lets a simple piano and nothing else work the magic on Beneath The Ivy. And yet the surprises do not end just there. Sure enough Echaskech’s Little Rays starts off in typical ambient style with its ethereal infused electronica then bam!, half a minute in, a post dubstep-worthy bass line is dropped. Just as you weren’t expecting the use of such exciting punctuation (the exclamation mark) and the word ‘dubstep’ in this review, so too was I not expecting to be so entertained by an album who’s primary purpose is to help people sleep.

4/5

Review of The Sundowners' 'Hummingbird' single for Artrocker magazine

Let’s play a game of true or false: The Sundowners are a current, up-and-coming, Liverpudlian band? Surprisingly, true. ‘Surprising’ in the sense that debut single, Hummingbird – produced by James and Ian Skelly of The Coral fame and released on the band’s own record label, Thin Skin Records – could not be less ‘current’ and ‘Liverpudlian’. To start, the sound is of a real vintage feel (perhaps exaggeratedly so); the guitars are bordering on being more jangly than The Smiths (!), whilst the vocals seemingly adopt the belief that strength comes in numbers, much like, say, The Beach Boys did and still do. Comparisons to bands that aren’t quite so ‘current’, then. Secondly, Hummingbird is 2 minutes 36 seconds of Americana-laced sunshine. Were Americana and sunshine to be our whole nation’s currency, let alone just the city of Liverpool’s, our financial situation would be... Well, our financial situation would be much like it is now but you get the point. What cannot be disputed, though, is the popularity of old school-styled artists and bands, like The Sundowners, at the moment – you could even say they were ‘up-and-coming’. Handy.

4/5

Review of Andy Burrows' 'Company' for Artrocker magazine

The next sentence will not make for pleasant reading. Johnny Borrell. (Told you.) Now imagine if that sentence followed you around wherever you went. Grim, I know. Given that he is only one album deep into his solo career, these unfortunate circumstances is what Andy Burrows has to deal with. Every. Day. Case in point: The words ‘Andy Burrows’ means very little to you. The words ‘the ex-drummer of Razorlight’ mean considerably more. This is by no means to say that Burrows is content with barely having a name for himself, though, far from it. In an attempt to put his name on the musical map, for example, this album around he’s chosen to fly under his own name rather than his previous I Am Arrows moniker. And, if Company is anything to go by, he’s also trying to make his own musically speaking; some songs on the album could not be more different to the Razorlight of old. It’s all very grandiose (strings are a predominant feature, for example), unfortunately too much so at some points – Hometown is sickly-sweet, whilst Maybe You, bizarrely, could well have fitted into Funny Looking Angels, a Christmas album produced in collaboration with Editors’ Tom Smith. Although there is the odd good moment (the razzmatazz towards the latter stages of recent single Because I Know That I Can was a pleasant surprise), it’s all a bit too mopey.


3/5