Data Select Party – Hanging Out With Humans
Data Select Party
The opening of Data Select Party’s EP/mini-album Hanging Out With Humans puts one in mind of the fantastic Dirty Projectors.
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High Places – High Places
Brooklyn duo High Places are the product of a chance encounter that blossomed into a fruitful creative partnership. Mary Pearson’s sing-speak vocals meet Rob Barber’s mutating, otherworldly soundscapes in their music, which first came to wider attention with their 03/07-09/07 compilation. It collected the singles and individual tracks that had been their output so far, since the formation of the band in early 2006 when Pearson moved into Barber’s New York flat. Their self-titled debut album, recorded during the first few months of this year, sees them develop the themes and sounds into what feels like one pulsing, melodic whole.
You Me At Six – Take Off Your Colours
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It was a while ago I first came across You Me At Six. Disappointed with Funeral For A Friend’s Tales Don’t Tell Themselves, I went searching for some good old British emo-pop-rock. ‘Save It For The Bedroom’ is what I uncovered – played heavily until I got the next new “toy”.
Forward to today and I am sat here with Take Off Your Colours, You Me At Six’s debut. I will be honest, I had lost them from my radar after my initial fling with the Surrey based quintets musings on love and life and my interest was piqued again when I saw in my local music superstore that their album was due for release.
The fact that it was listed on the wall behind the till in said type of shop (normally reserved to tell the unfulfilled when the next manufactured chart superstar releases their labels new cash cow) was enough to make me take a second look.
Released on Slam Dunk Records (my previous knowledge of Slam Dunk was as a club night at The Cockpit in Leeds…ah, memories…!), You Me At Six have obviously built up a reputation and a dedicated following to get such advertisements.
As I listen to the CD for the first time (on my way to work – I’m a busy man!) I find my mind wandering. It’s pleasant enough, but sounds kind like it could have been done by any number of similar bands, both British and American – all chugging guitars, big breakdowns and genre-specific vocal stylings.
Then…Hark…What is that? The alarm call guitar that is the introduction to ‘Save It For The Bedroom’, that’s what it is. Now it may be familiarity that reeled me in, but, hell, it got my attention drew me inside for a further listen.
Next up is the albums title track. Slamming straight in with the line “Those eyes you bought have gone to my head / But they wont take you to my bed” adds to the building sense of sex and short-lived relationships.
This theme is kept up over the next couple of tracks, including ‘If You Run’, which features this rather damning assessment of a former acquaintance: “Run around, just running your mouth / You’re by the hotel / Who’s doing you now? / And you’re so cold, so cold”
Things get a bit heavier on ‘Tigers And Sharks’, conjuring a sense of pain and betrayal to go with the cutting put-downs, vocalist Josh Franceschi demanding to know why everyone he knows was faking it from the word go.
The album’s unrelenting pace slows up for the obligatory acoustic number, ‘Always Attract’. Guitarist, one of Max Heyler or Chris Miller, or perhaps both (no liner notes, no concrete info), do a good job providing an understated melody allowing Franceschi to emote – this time longing for his loved one to return, enlisting the help of an unknown female (see previous comment regarding liner notes) to add backing vocals. The guitarists get to revert to their electrics for the ending, as the rest of the band join in for the crescendo of a finale. As I said, ‘Always Attract’ breaks up the generally fast paced album – but not for long.
Reverting to type for the final two tracks, ‘Nasty Habits’ bemoans another girl who, while not wanting to be “bad news”, seems to be just that.
Live favourite and traditional set closer ‘The Rumour’ ends the album in anthemic style, inviting the listener to “Hold your hands in, into the air / Hold your hands up as if you care”, but not before admitting that “We try to show some love and / It’s a skill that we lack”.
You Me At Six are writing good pop-infused rock music, the press release likening them to Fall Out Boy and Paramore. If that’s what the band are aspiring to (certainly no bad thing…and, oh, haven’t You Me At Six just been added to Fall Out Boy’s UK tour…?) they are certainly going the right way about it.
The tales of girls and boys and love and hate that make up Take Off Your Colours are distinctly teenage in content. But they are full of energy, enthusiasm and, most importantly, tunes. Good tunes make a damn good listen. Let’s just hope they stay as unlucky with the ladies…
The Saturdays – Chasing Lights
In comparison to the 1990s, today’s pop scene is somewhat sparsely populated in terms of successful girl groups. Barring the two notable exceptions of Sugababes and Girls Aloud, it could well be said that there is a fair gap to be filled in the market. So then, here we have The Saturdays. … Continue ReadingMercury Rev – Snowflake Midnight
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I’m probably not the only one approaching this latest album by Mercury Rev with a certain trepidation. After releasing Deserter’s Songs in 1998, one of the most beautiful records ever made, Mercury Rev have still churned out some gorgeous songs but the overall impression left by albums like Secret Migration and All is Dream is of a band playing it safe and becoming a cleaned up, stadium rock friendly version of their former self.
Smashing Pumpkins – Adore
The music press have been cruel to Billy Corgan and the hostility between the man and the media is a product of 1998’s commercial disaster that was Adore.
… Continue Reading
Reflex reaction #1: Bloc Party – Intimacy
In the first of a new series, we here at Muso’s Guide are jotting down our instinctive track-by-track reactions to the latest big album releases. Just like a stream-of-consciousness, really. Compare what we think to what you think, tell us whether you agree or disagree…
‘Ares’
This is the sound of conflict, all parts at odds with each other and as startling as PiL. Lyrically, massive two fingers up at social stereotyping from what we can gather – and boy, look at how the staunchly angular rhythms piss all over Foals. And the switch to ambience in the last quarter is even more dramatic through headphones.
‘Mercury’
The intricacy of those brass flourishes is astonishing, but far from instant. Who’d have thought a band could go from Silent Alarm to this? Matt Tong’s drumming is dictatorial, ferocious, and mind-boggling – and this is oh-so-exciting. On its own it’s a revelation, but in the context of Intimacy it’s a cataclysm. Or rather, one of many.
‘Halo’
A rare moment of semi-conventionality here after the one-two opening, but it’s far from predictable – that recurring riff sucks itself up nicely, and the enigmatic Kele Okereke confounds and entices in equal parts. The syncopation all over the verses is startling at first, but that’s just a reminder of how skilled this lot are as a four-piece.
‘Biko’
The colossal drop in tempo and density forces the chronology out of its comfort zone, and the scattered bass and beats are the right level of abstract. Perhaps Bloc Party’s starkest outing yet as we can’t think of anything to compare this to. It’s stunning, inspiring, and you never know what’s coming next. The derelict sound of stillness.
‘Trojan Horse’
With the denseness of old favourite ‘Helicopter’ and the broader-spanning outlook of the second album, it’s the album’s lyrically basest moment. All the same, it’s scratchy; it lacerates its way through the motions decorously. Though it’s piercing it’s just not as striking as the rest of the album – maybe because it’s just too complete?
‘Signs’
Following on from ‘Biko’, this is the album’s other pared down offering – think Autechre and Venetian Snares this time. Tacitly fragile, this song feels uniquely open and endearingly breakable. The spacious glockenspiels and luxurious strings make for a mass of subtle contradictions, and we bet it’ll mature gloriously too.
‘One Month Off’
Continuing the lack of sequential congruity, this one synopsises Bloc Party’s back catalogue – it’s got the painstaking hooks, fierce lyrics, and steely edge that define the band’s sound. Kele wants revenge, and with Jacknife Lee and Paul Epworth sharing production, he’s more likely than ever to get it (though the key change is a bit naff).
‘Zephyrus’
They get the electronics so, so right here. Timbral contrasts a-plenty, this offering puts the volatile emotion in some separate compartment to the thumpingly simple beat. The vocals hover around the carefully constructed disquiet, and the guitars are spikier than ever. It’s what ‘Flux’ should’ve sounded like.
‘Better Than Heaven’
The production feels a tad desperate here, too compressed. This song has a celestial ambition, but it doesn’t quite pull off as the desire to play hard, fast, and intangibly; it makes the underlying heart rather oblique. It’s brooding in a Joy Division meets Thom Yorke’s The Eraser sort of way though, an exciting prospect for the live arena.
‘Ion Square’
Honest, but monolithic; existential, but still; triumphant, but too conclusive; purposeful but almost sacrosanct. The album closes on a compelling rather than confounding note where everything’s changing except for Kele’s distinctive (and, of course, divisive) vocal – a powerful ending to a mostly superb record.
So what do we really think?
The song titles are more than misleading, and won’t warm Bloc Party to the already fully-formed haters. But this lot don’t care for humility, at least on the surface – and that very notion of subtle hypocrisy is what makes this album so brilliant, so forward-thinking. Intimacy pits the personal against the abstract through the band’s growing desire to confound consistency and put as much variation in as they can without imploding. The title is apt, and whilst there’s some hits and misses we reckon the misses will make more sense after a few more listens.
Tokyo Police Club – Elephant Shell
A double whammy of pedestrian, forlorn reflection in the form of ‘Centennial’, and then the bass and percussion push-pull of ‘In A Cave’, signals this Canadian quartet’s siege on the more rustic and reflective musical battle ground.
The latter song nutshells singer/bassist Dave Monks’ pleading stance and, at times, he is almost begging you to listen. It is as though he is pleading to a lover who has just found out that he’s been cheating on her with her grandma’s best friend.
Slowly, Tokyo Police Club twist up the tempo, through the rhythmic percussion thrusting touch of Greg Alsop, and the inner Brian Molko in Monks comes out through his stretching vocals. As this foraging debut full-length unfolds, an Okkervill River-type groove is settled into with the slightly theatrical tug of ‘Juno’, continuing through to the pop friendly heart-on-sleeve, clatter percussion cruise of ‘Tessellate’.
Slow building, hand clapping stroked atmospheric tale, ‘The Harrowing Adventures Of….’ sees the timely deployment of Monks’ folk/blues gelling touch, doling out bemusement and capturing a lacklustre feeling better than Tim Henman after yet another Wimbledon exit. Moodiness is always a hit and miss tactic to deploy, especially on a debut album. However, in this case it helps the tempo build and it is done with enough sincerity to keep it from treading over the borders into monotony.
This sincerity and an earthy vibe makes the melodic indie moan of ‘Nursery, Academy’, more than bearable and it reminds you of the skill with which Air Traffic pulled off a similar number last year. The sliding electro fuzz of ‘Your English Is Good’, more than atones for the brooding material, given its fresh snap and Hot Chip-eclipsing eccentricity.
Tokyo Police Club leaves a lingering sense of reflection, slight dejection and a foot-shuffling sense of rhythm. Do you really want or expect anything more from a debut album?
Guillemots – Red Album
Normally, a ’70s throw-backing fleeting-glam rock-edged foray is as clichéd as a Bruce Forsyth quip and lacks the necessary frivolity and loft these days. However, for the usually flighty, empirical and electro sliding pop protagonists Guillemots, it represents a refreshing departure.
Second album opener ‘Kriss Kross’ builds up to its rock plateau from a grandiose key kick and thoughtful lyrics are delivered through the quivering falsetto of Fyfe Dangerfield, matching the impact of Mika. An immediate tone switch sees funky R&B/pop-sliding ‘Big Dog’ draw in the slightly screeching, high profile backing touch of Aristazabal Hawkes. Along with some thunderous percussion, she helps to take the track off in different directions.
There has been many a comment as to how different the Guillemots live impact is compared to their debut album, Through The Window Pane. In this second full-length they do, to a large extent, manage to replicate their live eccentricity. The above-mentioned bold beginning is cushioned by the
piercingly poetic ballad, ‘Falling Out Of Reach’. It possesses the most prominent acoustic element in the history of Guillemots. At times, they produce the feel you’d expect from Arcade Fire had they been told to hurry up in the studio. Pacing euphoria and a vast, broad electro-based instrumental sound are the main ingredients in this spicy broth; making you amazed to learn that four people alone create this varied sound and impact.
The Gary Numan-sparring-against-David Bowie with commentary by Ladytron feel given off by ‘One Last Kiss’ underlines the step forward that this quartet has made. The haunting harmonica-led, ambient tone of ‘Words’ is pure reflection music. Dangerfield’s supple lingering vocals lead a cry out against
over-speaking. Let’s just hope that Jonathan Ross listens to these views:
“I think that life would be so much easier behind no words.â€
In true contrast, they follow this with a word-perfect, melodious stroll – ‘Standing On The Last Star’ – again, using the pull of the lead man’s falsetto. Guillemots are about to bolster even further their reputation as a moving and slightly eccentric and expansive four piece.
The Wave Pictures – Instant Coffee Baby
It’s better to be honest, right? So here goes: Imagine Edwyn Collins meeting Lawrence Hayward and the lovechild getting the life sucked out of it – that’d be what ‘Instant Coffee Baby’ brings to mind.
The vocals aren’t deadpan enough to get away with it, the seemingly constant filler cringe-inducing, and every song without fail doesn’t live up to the promise of its initial thirty seconds. As a second pre-amble, happing upon The Wave Pictures a few weeks ago supporting someone far better meant endowment with bias of the worst variety – but being as objective as possible in a subjective world of taste meant that in fact instinct is usually entrenched for a reason.
Here’s a third foreword: where they don’t know what else to do, they go for guitar solo (see ‘Kiss Me’); where there’s an opportunity to step it up a gear, they squeak and squawl and presumably go “hey, let’s just do what Orange Juice did”. Numero Four: how is it possible that forefather Darren Hayman let them tour with him? Or Mountain Goats’ John Darnielle used them as his backing band? It makes rationality sit back and wonder, even if the deities in question are of unimpeachable delectation.
Fifth, a small qualification: lyrical faux-cute isn’t desirable (at least not most of the time), it’s dull. But with a bit more panache, wordiness could’ve partially assuaged the other charges. It’s not even a disappointment but instead, a complete non-entity of a record.
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