Live Review: Scissor Sisters at London Brixton Academy - 31st October 2004

Author: Richard Cosgrove

So, for the second time in two weeks I found myself at a Scissor Sisters gig, although I have to honest, I didn't go dressed as Leatherface to the Royal Albert Hall! I'm not alone in dressing up tonight, though, as a very impressive portion of the audience seem to have heeded the Scissor Sisters' call for this to be a costumed affair, and costumes there were of all shapes and sizes. As we walk down towards the Academy, we decide to stop off at the Goose for a quick drink and there in front of us is a scene straight out of Psycho. Literally. In what is easily the most original costume I've ever seen, this guy has his own private shower stall complete with white curtain draped around him - genius!

Inside the pub there were vampires, werewolves, Homer Simpson, Superman and Supergirl, a group of demonic nuns, and Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, complete with sparkly ruby red slippers. We were definitely not in Kansas, Toto. Once inside the Academy itself there were more costumes, painted faces, and more more homemade scissors than you could shake a, well, homemade pair of scissors at.

As previously, Kiki and Herb are providing support, and somehow it seems perfect than on a night like tonight there is a transvestite torch singer and a deranged keyboard player entertaining the crowd. They depart the stage and we have the pleasure of a live DJ who knows just which musical buttons to push to keep the crowd at fever pitch.

As it's Halloween, the Scissor Sisters have gone that extra mile, and the lights go down to reveal a makeshift screen onto which we first get projected film of Jake Shears singing 'Bicycle Of The Devil' in a kimono before removing it to reveal some rather natty bondage gear to screams of encouragement from the audience. Following this we get a short horror movie called 'Wait Til Carol Comes' in which Carol Channing ends up
murdering Shears and Ana Matronic.

Cinematic interlude over, the band are suddenly silhouetted onto the curtain, which swiftly falls to reveal a special halloween set, complete with huge tombstones for each of the band. The band themselves are in full Halloween mode, dressed as characters from the Rocky Horror Show, with Shears cutting a particularly fine figure as Frank N further, lunging around the stage on impossibly high platforms.

Opening with 'Laura', the band play the same set as they did at the Royal Albert Hall, and are just as entertaining, but in a completely different way due to the wildly different feel of the venue and the nature of the evening. Where the Royal Albert Hall gig was all about pomp and music hall stylings, tonight is all about letting their hair down and reveling in the fact that they are throwing the best Halloween party in town with five thousand of their closest friends.

The unique nature of the evening aside, one of the Scissor Sisters' greatest strengths is the banter between Shears and Matronic which comes across like a conversation between great friends that we're all a part of. The ease with which they engage the audience and bring a sense of vaudeville to the proceedings ensures that the barrier between artist and audience is as minimal as possible.

As the show draws to a close after some ninety minutes, the sea of grins on the audience's faces is testimony to the fact that we've not only seen a great gig here tonight, but we've also been to a bloody good party, albeit one that ends far too soon and could easily have carried on until dawn. Here's hoping they come back next year so we can do it all over again.

Live Review: Modest Mouse at London Astoria -18th November 2004

Author: Silke

Usually it's not too difficult to get rid of a spare ticket to a gig, because there's always a friend who wants to go as well. However, with a spare ticket available for Modest Mouse at the Astoria I encountered lots of "thanks, but no thanks", "modest mouse, who are they? Cheers, I'll pass sweetheart" from my friends and acquaintances. Nobody seemed interested enough in joining us.

Even outside the venue there were no ticketless fans only lots of rain and puddles. In the end I got a tenner for the ticket from a dodgy tout which annoyed me a lot as I hate touts, but as soon as I heard the first few Modest Mouse tracks I forgot all about it. The gig was truly phenomenal! At the risk of sounding smug, I can only say to all those of you who turned down the opportunity to join us in the Modest Mouse fun: YOU MISSED OUT!

For those of you whose reaction would've been similar to those of my philistine friends (i.e. "modest what? who the heck are they"), Modest Mouse are a mighty fine indie band from Issaquah (in the US state of Washington) and have been around since 1993 and came back with a bang this year with their album "Good News for People Who Love Bad News".

The gig started with a couple of slightly odd and confused minutes when the band came on stage to "get ready" with leading man Isaac Brock getting changed into a snazzy stripey boating jacket and white trousers in plain view (showing off his massive anchor tattoo on his back) whilst the rest of the band fiddled about with their pedals and instruments.

The band then launched into what can only be described as an amazingly eccentric and stirring set (mainly consisting of tracks from their latest album) with lots of crazy and eclectic instrument changes (including string bass, banjo, keyboards and various percussion implements).

Modest Mouse's frontman Brock stood stage-left (I guess determined not to be the "frontman") but he certainly led the rock 'n' roll mayhem which included highlights such as their latest single "Float On" with its highly contagious guitar line, the amazing banjo playing on Bukowski and the anthemic and fabulous "Trailer Trash" (from their 1997 album "Lonesome Crowded West") which had me dancing up a sweat and singing out loud.

Brock's between-song banter was completely unintelligible but it made me giggle and altogether the gig had an incredibly happy feel and showed off a more upbeat side of Modest Mouse. More frustrated, angry and morbid songs like "Bury Me With It" and "Dance Hall" were left off the set list. Instead, the very final encore, a rousing romp through the hopeful "The Good Times Are Killing Me" was just the perfect way to round off such a remarkable and uplifting gig for me! I loved it and if Modest Mouse are ever back in town I recommend that all of you who didn't get the chance (or refused the opportunity!!!) actually go and see them. You won't be disappointed.

Live Review: Har Mar Superstar at London Astoria -12th October 2004

Author: Alexa Evans

Sliding, gyrating, sizzling, the man, the legend, Har Mar Superstar. Boy oh boy he did not disappoint. As he oozed on to the stage in a white suit featuring backless and frontless Christina Aguilera style chaps and a tight red vest we knew we were in for a treat.

An earlier sighting of the rare Bill Oddie in the upstairs bar had already made it an all-star gig but once Har Mar started to belt out the tunes that excitement had doubled. The combination of sultry tones with funked up beats and an awesome selection of dance moves confirmed Har Mar is not a gimmick. The man simply breathes sex, yeah on the street you wouldn't look twice but up on that stage with that aura, voice and moves he becomes a sex god! The room was full of panting women and envious boyfriends all lusting after one man and some even offering their women to him as a sacrificial 'if you won't snog me then have my girlfriend' type offering.

As he glided from "The Handler" to "Body Request" with those beautifully melodic tones you got the feeling that his latest album was a homage to early Motown greats such as the Jackson 5 and Stevie Wonder and he did not disgrace them one bit. He didn't falter a single note as he pranced around the stage and it was evident he was relishing in the fantastic atmosphere as much as the crowd were. When "DUI" started playing the crowd went mad and as far as the eye could see cracking dance moves were braking out as if the venue had just been stormed by a large group of Pan's People.

Just when we thought it couldn't get any better he left the stage to return wearing nothing but a pair of tight red hot pants and socks. There wasn't a dry flange in the house!

The highlight of the evening for me was Har Mar Superstar at his filthiest and most flirtatious performing his classics from the first album "Powerlunch" and "Ez-Pass" and the stage was covered in bras! Being a mere 5"4 I had a bit of trouble seeing the stage at times but the atmosphere more than made up for it. Sweaty dancing, singalong sleazy moments and the knowledge that at least half the crowd were gonna go home for some nookie (probably including Bill Oddie) made it a night to remember.

My First Gig: Pink Floyd

Author: Dollyrocker

I will always remember my first gig. Aged 14, that band ladies and gentlemen, were the Pink Floyd. Apart from for about 10 months between 1966 and 1967, I don't think that Pink Floyd had ever been cool. I wouldn't know what to blame it on, Nick Masons tache? The Wall? The almost complete lack of singles? Or maybe, it's because post Syd, they were not really interested in the concept of being pop stars. So if you look at what was happening in say; 1972, (Ziggy, T-Rex, Eno, Roxy etc etc) and then look at what the Floyd were doing at the same time (Nick Mason asking the studio engineer for apple pie without the crusts and inventing the future look for 118 118, Rick Wright sporting a fine array of hideous jumpers knitted by his nan complete with gravy stains, Dave Gilmour rewriting the rulebook of modern rock music whilst still being the only guitarist to fill Jimi Hendrix sadly missed shoes, and Roger Waters, ah yes here comes the good bit, bashing gongs to within an inch of their life in the ancient ruins of Pompeii, being the badest maddest 'rock star' not to touch drugs, cussing studio engineers and producers for 'not understanding music', write albums with 20 minute orchestral pieces and the putting an Essex cow, yes a real one! on the front cover, being the most well spoken frontman ever and still saying the F word every ten seconds, and INVENTING BLEEDIN' TECHNO!, it would be fairly unreasonable to even INSINUATE that Floyd were ever cool. So now we have that out of the way, lets fast forward to 1988.

My eldest brother Dean, a man of (mostly) sound musical taste had introduced me to Floyd earlier that year. 'Wish You Were Here' was the first I heard, then 'Meddle', and then I went carwashing at weekends until I had earned enough quids to walk the two mile hike into town to buy another Floyd album on tape. I think I had to cadge a lift to London Tower Records and beg my dad to buy me 'More', and I think I picked up 'Relics' for 2 quid from a secondhand shop. Other than that, it worked out that I had to wash three cars to listen to one album. Don't worry kids, this was before I was old enough to even THINK about girls.

'Early 15th birthday present Chris?' 'F*ck Yes'. 8th August 1988 then. Pink Floyd playing Wembley Stadium as a 'three piece' but with about 15 dreadfully uncool session musicians, mainly in mullets and chinos. No Roger Waters (he stormed about three years earlier after years of decaying relationships with, er everyone actually, and launched a very successful solo career). But hey, I'm 14, drinking beer on my brothers shoulders, watching (I wouldn't want to be held to this) Paul Young (christ!) and waiting for Floyd to come onstage and wheel out the classic Waters songbook. Wish You Were Here indeed.

I can't recall what they played and in what order, but I am positive that it opened with 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond', which in itself justifies the concept of stadium gigs. It was getting dark, lazers, sound, hippies, I'm getting shivers down my back even thinking about it, and thats in a GOOD way. A fair chunk of 'Dark Side Of The Moon' got aired, and the thrill of a real hospital bed flying over our heads from one end of the stadium to the other will live with me forever, soundtracked by the futuristic headf*ck of 'On The Run', (see I TOLD you Waters invented Techno!).

We got the inevitable new Waterless album, 'Dogs Of War' was truly dreadful, 'Learning To Fly' with Gilmour at his most lyrically imaginitive (NOT) was actually passable in that kind of 'everyone swing their arms' kind of way, and 'On The Turning Away' was kinda atmospheric (I think I was on my second beer now).

So there you have it, fast forward another six months to 1989 and I had discovered the Mary Chain, The Clash, The Mission et al, but that was my first gig, and I am actually very proud. Thanks Dean! .

Live Review: Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds at London Brixton Academy - 12th November 2004

Author: Greg James

Last night was for me a baptism of fire in the ways of Old Nick. A man who's been casting his narrow shadow across music for over twenty five years along with a band of spindly alien mad men. Old enough to have fathered most of the alternative rockers bouncing and whining their way across the airwaves, Nick Cave showed that it pays to respect your elders otherwise they might just come around with the devil and tear your face off.

There was no highlight because each song was one. The Bad Seeds attacked and tore apart every moment they were on stage with a mad-eyed bleeding intensity. This was real heavy music, the heat given off would make mullets fuse to leather jackets and spotty skins boil away in seconds. This was music fuelled by a spiritual fire, it scalds you when you get too close. A vibrant passion infused every note to the point where I was lost in a blinding fusion of blues, gospel, ballads, jazz and weeping piano laments - it was all blended so seamlessly it should be impossible that it happened.

But it did. It was more real and alive than most bands can dream of being. There were no breathers and no respite was given. Like the hardcore punk scene where the Bad Seeds were sown, this band were here to tell you something, to pass a feeling whether it be beautiful or ugly and they're not going to let you up until it's pumping through your veins. This was just a relentless outpouring of the kind of music which is born inside and has to get out of you otherwise it will kill you for trying to cage it. This was beauty, anger, sadness, love and hate all barely bound by words and sound.

There were two sets but neither trounced the other instead it was more like the overdose was followed by a full-on cardiac arrest. The raging gospel of the first set passed away leaving the mournful bitter ghosts of the second set to haunt us. In the end, the night closed with a ferocious take on The Mercy Seat as acoustic strumming erupted into a blasting militant funeral march which left me with a few tears in my eyes. When live music gets you that bad, you know it's not been a good night but one of the best. If this is what the brandy of the damned tastes like, I want more.

Music Feature: "What's Good?' by Whistling Al McKenzie

Author: Whistling Al McKenzie

Funny how music becomes much more than the sum of its parts - even the music you love to hate. Recently, during my many idle moments in the workplace, I've found myself whistling horrors like 'Suicide Is Painless,' (apt under the circumstances), 'Nine To Five' (The Easton and The Parton), 'Chanson L'Amour,' and 'Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?' (none of my colleagues responded to that last one, ironically or otherwise). Yes, gentle, expectant reader, I know; you're telling me that my brain has been raddled by all those long office hours spent eavesdropping on endless conversations about diets and Wife Swap, and you're right. But then, the pain of hearing any of R Stewart's oeuvre is equalled only by the pain of making cuts on my fingers and putting them in a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, and I've never felt a sudden compulsion to do that during work time. No, the root of this odd behaviour lies in nostalgia, and those of us old enough to remember editions of TOTP featuring Jonathan King as a harmless joker suffer from the involuntary donning of rose-tinted spectacles more than most. For nostalgia, you see, is a virus. Caught from false memories, it attacks the brain from within, leaving it as weak and defenceless as a newborn; and just as the innocent and trusting tot has no natural resistance to measles, so the brain is vulnerable to spectacularly bad ideas - the idea that Boney M were a Good Thing, for example. If only a vaccine could be developed to protect the modern 30-something from the lasting damage inflicted by childhood bouts of Razzmatazz.

The one consolation when faced with this debilitating illness is knowing that today's smug juveniles will become tomorrow's fellow sufferers. Arguably, some of them already display alarming signs of the onset of Chronic Nostalgia - how else do you explain someone declaring that 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' is the greatest pop song ever? (I made a mistake there, confusing nostalgia with plain bad taste - it's so easy to do.) Whatever The Greatest Pop Song Ever is, it certainly ain't that, but neither is it any of the Woganesque fodder I've listed before. My point is, these vapid tunes from yesteryear have a habit of entering my head unbidden during moments of extreme stress or boredom or both, purely because they remind me of childhood, when life seemed simple yet wondrous, when you didn't have to worry about urban violence and the rising house prices, and Pleasant and Exciting Things were always around the corner. (He's just being nostalgic again; his childhood was actually filled with pain and fear. - Al's Stepdad) You could hardly accuse 'Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?' of being pleasant or exciting, (although I'm sure it was exciting for Roddy to have a wet dream about himself in public), but it's what you associate the music with that matters, not the music itself; whenever I hear that song, it reminds me of my 10 year old self giggling at a very silly Kenny Everett TV sketch, in which Sir Ken paraded around as Rod in his tight leopardskin kecks, his arse expanding to balloon-like proportions as he mimed the number. So the song has an effect on me - it doesn't mean I have to own or like the record, but the keyboardy-intro bit seems so much more whistleable these days than when I was 10, and I lay the blame for that fairly and squarely at the door of Ol' Mother Nostalgia.

Similar principles apply to the music we actually like, to the point where it's impossible to tell how good something really was. Were the Fabs that great? (Sgt Pepper certainly isn't.) Are they rated so highly for their melodic and lyrical craftsmanship, or because theirs was the first serious pop music in many listeners' lives, thereby gaining bonus nostalgia brownie points? Were they just the 1960s equivalent of Busted (at least in the beginning), and we're all too blinded by nostalgia to realise it? If I was the age I am now in 1969, would I dislike The Velvets as much as I dislike Black Rebel Motorcycle Club in 2004? Do I like them because they fit my image of 1960s coolness, and it's much easier to be nostalgic about an era you never actually lived through? I knew I was infected by the virus after watching Pop Idols with some friends; I went off on a rant about how contrived pop music has become, and how no-one rails versus the corporations anymore like the Sex Pistols did. They laughed at my naivety, arguing that the Pistols were as much a product of the industry as Will Gates is, and I could see their point, yet I still get hairs on the back of my neck from the opening riff to 'Pretty Vacant,' while I genuinely can't remember anything performed by S Cowell's brainchildren. As Burt Reynolds says in Boogie Nights, 'If it looks like shit and it tastes like shit, it is shit.'

Nostalgia isn't just about the personal, it's about the hype, and older music, the music we're nostalgic about, accrues more hype than current stuff does. How many times have we seen pop quizzes and Top 100s on Saturday night TV in the past few years? If I keep hearing that I should not only like, but love Elvis (I don't, messily disproving my theory re: nostalgia for eras you never lived through), then I might believe it eventually, maybe after the millionth soundbite. Nostalgia ain't what it used to be; it's now an industry, fed by the demand for cheap clip compilations on telly, by the Internet, by MP3, and by samples of Ye Olde Pop on modern hits. The really depressing thing is that despite having a greater diversity of music available to us than ever before, we seem happy to let the media dictate a categorisation of music into universally-perceived pantheons of 'good' and 'bad': should Rob Williams be voted into the UK Hall of Fame, or are The Blur more worthy of this honour? Does anyone with an IQ above 2 really care? Like that leopard-skinned arse swelling up to resemble a planet where Bet Lynch rules by fear, not everything is so easily classifiable. The lovely thing about true musical nostalgia is that it allows us to make our own minds up about what's in our Top Tens and what isn't, and to the youthful pop-pickers of today, I say this: In the kingdom of the Impressionable, the Hall of Fame is King.

Music Feature: From cassette decks to downloads - the home music revolution by Peter Muscutt

Author: Peter Muscutt

I was watching a Peter Kay stand-up DVD the other day, and laughing to myself about one point he made which hit straight on the head something many, if not all, youngsters used to do in the privacy of their bedrooms (no, not THAT) I am of course, talking about listening to the Top 40 and taping all your favourite songs. Short of pocket money, kids across the land would have their C-90's ready, fingers poised over the 'pause' button to stop the recording just as the DJ began talking, of course, despite even years of practise, we could never quite manage this, and always ended up with the latest Shaggy hit with a snippet of dialogue along the lines of "Number eight this week"!

This method of capturing all the latest chart hits on cassette was a favourite of mine, as well as a friend, mainly as we were responsible at one time for purchasing new music for the weekly school disco, a scam which involved snaffling the crisp tenner given to us by the Youth Centre Manager (the intention being for us to buy some CD singles or even a compilation album), then going home and recording the Top 40 for free on a Sunday night!

No matter how much of a brave face the music industry puts on, home taping/recording/copying has always been, and always will be, a part of every day life. I can't remember exactly the day someone uttered the words 'don't worry about buying that, I'll do you a CD' (with reference to CD burning technology) but chances are it was from internet auction site eBay that one was purchased. Of course, the sale of obviously pirated chart albums would be hit on fairly hard, but the opening on eBay existed for bootlegs - another staple of the home taping movement.

Live recordings which otherwise would never see the light of day could be experienced by fans, meaning another side to their favourite artists could be heard. Sound quality varied between sounding like the entire affair was recorded on a Dictaphone inside a dustbin from the back of the venue (which, to be fair, it probably was) to professional sounding full length concerts recorded, presumably, from the sound mixing desks at various gigs. However unofficial these were, however much income the bands involved missed out on, I still saw these bootlegs as a promotional tool - if you heard a good bootleg of a live performance, surely this made you want to actually experience the bands live firsthand and pay for a ticket?

And of course, then came the biggie - the internet download trend. Sites soon began to pop up all over the place, with file sharing options available, and the most well known, including Kazaa, Napster et al meaning free access to practically any bands and songs were available to all with an internet account. It will never be easy to put a number on the amount of people who download music, but CacheLogic, a Cambridge based firm, estimated as many as three billion songs exchanging hands online each and every day. The firm also comment that the big myth that the music industry is winning its war on music piracy and file sharing is incorrect - file sharers are simply moving to different programs and networks. The impact on file sharing and illegal music downloads has not been huge, around about 100 million songs less in the time between January and June this year.

The introduction of official 'pay-per-listen' sites such as Apple's iTunes, and a redeveloped Napster website may have helped to lessen illicit downloads, however the census appears to be that as long as people can get music online for free, wherever possible, they will - despite a huge crackdown on the most prolific file sharers.

This development in the methods of obtaining music also hits on the physical appearance of our own music collections - in the 80s we had vinyl and cassettes (cassette singles are now officially a thing of the past, due to practically non existent sales, vinyl however, continues as the format of choice for DJs and collectors). With the advent of CDs in the mid-80s, music collections were redefined, many people choosing to update their shelves full of bulky 12" vinyl with the smaller, sleeker CD format. To say that CDs may one day become obsolete is a little sensationalist, much as when internet shopping became a part of everyday life and the death of the traditional high street was rumoured! Certainly music is constantly adapting and changing, with the introduction of MP3 players such as the iPod, and while in years to come we may be listening to machines the size of a garden pea capable of holding 450,000,000 tracks (OK, maybe I'm dreaming there - anyway, who has that many songs?!) there will still be a need for a convenient storage method for music - which, at the moment, CDs seem to do just fine.

Album Review: U2 - How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb

Author: Graeme Henderson

It's not cool to like U2. It's even worse to say they are your favourite band. It's almost the same as admitting that you like the new Destiny's Child track, or that Will Young isn't really that bad, is he? Meeting new people and learning how much they love obscure bands that you've never heard of means that when you confess your guilty pleasure you often end up an outcast. Not a real music fan. It's the worst kind of insult, and when the band in question has a new album out, it's not gonna get any better. Especially when said album turns out to be the best thing they have done in years.

"How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb" (snappy title!) has no right to be as good as it is. Supergroups like U2 should not be releasing good albums twenty-odd years into their career, far less ones that rank up there with "The Joshua Tree" and "Achtung Baby". It goes against the grain. (Look at R.E.M.'s dire latest release.) Especially when the album rocks in a way most new guitar groups would sell their granny to achieve. Kicking off proceedings with lead-off single "Vertigo", Bono's voice holds up well after years of belting out impossibly hard-to-match choruses, but it is The Edge's guitar that makes the song, and the album as a whole. He's back to using his classic trademark minimalist sound, even more so than on previous album "All That You Can't Leave Behind". Some people argue that U2 are going through a mid-life crisis, trying to keep up with rock's young pretenders. It's safe to say that they have clearly been influenced by the rapid rise of Franz, The Killers, Razorlight et al, but equally true is that the big tunes and big ideas have never really gone anywhere.

Many people will pick up on the fact that "Vertigo" is loud and noisy and essentially un-U2, and this is wonderful. It's wonderful because U2 have never tried to appease their fans by giving them another "Joshua Tree", and no other band with such a huge following has had the guts to try out new ideas, to tear up the rulebook and stick two fingers to their critics because they just had to make that dance remix and they just had to tour with a giant revolving lemon. That's why people love them. They aren't afraid to be uncool, and that means that their fans aren't afraid to be uncool either. This kind of f*ck-you attitude is more punk than the majority of corporate bands who claim to be "punk". Bono has called this album "U2's first guitar record", and he's right. "Vertigo" isn't the only track to display this new approach - there are companion pieces elsewhere on the album - "Love and Peace or Else" and "All Because of You" immediately spring to mind, and both are going to sound immense in stadiums next year. If you've heard "Vertigo" - and let's face it, by now who hasn't - and like what you hear, you will love this album. But if you don't want loud, guitar heavy tracks (not that we're talking Metallica here), don't worry. The ballads are still here and out in force.

"City of Blinding Lights" is the song to make Chris Martin weep into his Fairtrade cornflakes, because he knows he'll never be this good. "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" is a slow-burner of the kind we've all seen on past U2 albums, but this isn't a bad thing by any means. "Original of the Species" is piano-led verses wedged between huge choruses, and you're going to hear it all over the radio in the next year. It's not all perfection though - "A Man and a Woman" sounds suspiciously like filler, and "One Step Closer" never really gets off the ground, but these are minor failings.

If you don't like U2, this album isn't going to convince you otherwise. If you can't stand Bono's preaching on AIDS and world debt, then songs like "Crumbs from Your Table", with its "where you live should not decide whether you live or whether you die" refrain won't do much to endear him to your cold heart. And God help you if this is how you feel, because this album is going to be everywhere, as only new U2 material can be. By this time next year you will be begging for a break. But for those of us who admire Bono for being the ultimate pain in the ass, and who are happy to admit to being followers of the greatest band in the world, this is the best thing you'll hear this year. And next year too.

Album Review: Gravenhurst - Black Holes In The Sand

Author: Matti Gregory

It sounds terrible - six tracks of gloomy semi-experimental folk including a Husker Du cover. Perfect, perhaps, for slitting your wrists open to, but not for any actual enjoyment on the part of the listener. But there must have been something which made techno label Warp snap up a singer-songwriter, and on "Black Holes In The Sand", technically an EP but an LP in all real respects, Gravenhurst (aka Bristolian Nick Talbot) shows what can only be described as an apocalyptic talent.

It's certainly dark from start to finish, consisting of atmospheric strumming and murder ballads (the aforementioned Husker Du song Diane in particular tells a story of a young girls rape and subsequent killing), all seemingly set in either a secluded 19th-century town (think The Village in mid-winter) or the middle of the Sahara desert, but Talbot's voice - a wonderful velvetine instrument - lifts all of the songs out of the melancholy and onto an ethereal level which lends each track a life of its own. "Still Water" is the most uplifting track, an arid ballad with minimal accompaniment, while the title track features backing from members of Black Forest/Black Sea adding their, well, black noise to a darkly beautiful song of guilt and regret.

It would be easy to spend several paragraphs talking about Gravenhurst's dark/dark layering of sounds and the ghostly melodies he employs throughout the record's 30 minutes, but it's easier to simply make it plain what a startlingly inventive addition to one of musics stalest genres this really is. Just don't listen to it if you're on your own.

Album Review: The Vines - Winning Days

Author: Aurliea Wilson

The four Aussies that create The Vines released a new album this year called 'Winning Days' It's a psychedelic mix of folk songs and edgy rock. With the release of 'Ride' in late December 2003, a new follow up album buzz followed them to March. The follow-up album to their hyped up debut 'Highly Evolved' doesn't seem to cut it with some of the fans but true fans picked up the album. According to many people, this too is another sequel that doesn't live up to the original.

'Ride' - A simple guitar beat pushing the song along while Hamish performs an awesome drum solo toward the middle.

'Animal Machine' - A dark, maybe evil song. There was some speculation of this being the new single in the States, although it never happened. Fans feared it would be shot down for sounding too much like Nirvana.

'TV Pro' - A futuristic type of song. Lyrics are short and to the point which is a different style of Craig's. You can hear the distortion kicking in during the chorus.

'Autumn Shade II' - A sequel to the original on the debut. While the original is more indie rock, this contrarily is acoustic with bird calls at the end.

'Evil Town' - Another short song and one song I like to skip on the CD player because of the metal influences. Metal really isn't my thing.

'Winning Days' - One of the greatest Vines song recorded. It's too wonderful to describe in words.

'She's Got Something To Say To Me' - Sounds like a retro pop song. It's ok but it can drive you nuts. I hope The Vines never do something like this again.

'Rainfall' - In the dead of winter when all the weather is doing is raining, this song gives you confidence that you will see the sun again. The drum beat is subtle but really sets the tempo.

'Amnesia' - The drums start slowly then the guitar kicks in and the vocals begin. Remembering where your sanity is, is always a good thing.

'Sunchild' - An early demo, this song is another great one. A sweet guitar riff begins and the drums are accentuating it.

'F*ck The World' - Intriguing bass line and swearing everywhere. (Don't let the parents know you have this) Craig said he means it in a sarcastic way. Sure!

The Vines are truly a unique band but this album doesn't cut it unless you are a true fan and don't care. It's a good album and its really worth the money but I would suggest buying the debut first or the debut instead.

Music Event: Ant Lib 3 at London Hombres - 5th November 2004

Author: Richard Cosgrove

Those of us of a certain age still remember vividly a dashingly handsome young man with a white stripe across his face, dressed like a modern day pirate, crashing onto our Top Of The Pops screen and imploring us to "unplug the jukebox and do us all a favour". Backed by four of the coolest looking musicians, including two drummers, Adam and his Ants (along with Gary Numan's Tubeway Army) changed the way I looked at music. Before them I was aware of music, thanks to a musical father, but it consisted of either disco records, Queen (who were good but didn't set my world afire), or whatever happened to be on that week's TOTP.

Fast forward a quarter of a century, and we're gathered at Hombres in London for a celebration of Adam Ant's 50th birthday. Yeah, 50 - kinda makes you feel old doesn't it when your idols hit the big five-oh. Ant Lib had run two previous conventions, but this was the first one that I'd become aware of, so we rolled into the Smoke and joined 300 other Antpeople to pay tribute to the great man.

The day kicked off with a showing of the excellent documentary "The Madness of Prince Charming", which examined the illness that has plagued Adam Ant for his whole adult life - even at the height of his fame he suffered from depression, and has been fortunate enough to have people like Marco Pirroni stand by him over the years. Despite what The Sun might have you believe, Adam's not mad, just suffering from a condition that is more common than is popularly thought.

Next up was a 'best dressed' competition, won by (surprise, surprise) a handsome young man with a white strip across his face, dressed like a modern day pirate. To give him credit, though, he looked the part, and if there are any Ant tribute bands out there, he's your man.

Next up was the alternative comedian Gary Le Strange, whose great love of the whole new romantic scene came across in his comical, yet frighteningly accurate pastiches of classic tunes, simultaneously paying tribute to and taking the piss out of the likes of Numan, Ultravox, John Foxx and others from the new romantic scene. A 'best tattoo' competition followed, and then we were on to the highlight of the evening.

With no Adam or Marco in attendance (although they had sent some signed pictures and records along), the Ants were very ably represented by Terry Lee Miall and his band Magnificent Seven. Kicking off with a faithful rendition of Blitzkrieg Bop, dedicated to the late brothers Ramone, the band powered through a selection of classics from the era, including Teenage Kicks (dedicated to John Peel), I Fought The Law, Antmusic, God Save The Queen and a rousing version of Stand And Deliver. Watching Miall playing that most famous of drum lines brought back memories of playing the 7-inch to death on my record player way back when.

After they left the stage, we decamped briefly next door to Ben Crouch's Tavern for some food, which meant missing Madam And The Ants, who I was informed on our return were entertaining, and the rest of the evening was given over to a disco featuring the sounds of the era. While the masses danced I got the chance to talk to Miall and his mate Dave at the bar (who turned out to have been the bassist for The Macc Ladds for a while, and who I'd actually seen play a couple of times some fifteen years previously) about the early days of the Ants and punk in general, which made my day - to hear tales of the era I grew up with from a couple of guys who were actually there was awesome, and made this a day to remember.

All that remains to be said is "great party Adam, you missed a blinder!"

Album Review: Joss Stone - Mind, Body and Soul

Author: Greg James

There are times when the hype is true. There are times when the forever chuntering media machine that raves about the latest personality vacuum as The Next Big Thing gets confused, a few circuits blow and it spits out some pure raw ability.

BUT Joss Stone is not The Next Big Thing though. She's better than that. She is HUGE! Her voice comes out through the speakers and you're hooked. It's that simple! You're thinking 'Smeg! This is a sixteen year old and she can sing like THAT!!*?!' After the jealousy and envy fades away, you're enjoying it as much as the next man, woman or indeterminate.

Yes, the album is very old school in it's trappings and style. Yes, 'You Had Me' would be a f*cking horrible nu-white soul karaoke cock-up in the grip of a lesser talent's vocal chords and yes, the album does sag round the middle a bit like those stupid baggy jeans 'young' people wear these days BUT that there young lass from Devon manages to hold it together the whole way through. The strength in her voice keeps you listening even through the duller songs, it keeps your finger away from that skip button and stops your examining the Return & Exchange bit on the back of the receipt.

This is not the same belting 'strength' as Anastacia here though. Miss Stone can soothe you with silken whispers and murmur sweet nothings with as much conviction as she can blast you through the stratosphere. Like all good music, she isn't a two-dimensional talent relying on props to hide her shortcomings behind an image. There are many aspects to her voice like a diamond. Each aspect gets its own moment when that moment is right and not before or after. Everything fits.

Even though this album is flawed, it is a flawed gem. The great choons give the good choons the support they need and it all leaves you with that desire to press repeat, lie back and catch a few more glimpses of heaven. More albums should be like this but they're not so buy several copies of this to make up for that fact. You know it makes sense.

My First Gig: 98° by Kate F

Author: Kate F

Hello ladies and gentleman of good musical taste. I am ashamed to tell you that my first concert was 98°. I kind of like to think of them as the indier boyband; everyone else loved NSYNC or Backstreet Boys, and I loved my boys from Ohio. But even though my reasoning for liking them is beyond me now, it was at that first concert that I understood what a fantastic live show could do for you. You know what I mean... usually, the show will be more than halfway over, and suddenly the band begins to play the song you've been waiting for all night. At that moment, there's nowhere you'd rather be and nothing on your mind except the lyrics running through your head. Maybe it's the moment when the chorus kicks in, or the drums really take control; but I know we've all been there, had that moment of 'wow.' Sadly my first wow was hormone-induced and surrounded by hundreds of screaming girls, but it did the trick.

Musically, I've progressed. But emotionally, I'm still at the same place in many ways. It's a bit harder for me to lose myself at gigs then it used to be, I don't quite know why. Maybe they're not as new and exciting anymore, or I've just grown more cynical. Either way, it makes the moments when a band just 'gets you' even more amazing. One of my most perfect examples is Oasis at the Chicago Theatre 2002. All I can remember is a spotlight on Noel, and after he yelled at everyone for trying to sing along (as you do), the most gorgeous song I've ever heard live. It was the Noel Gallagher does Ryan Adams doing Liam Gallagher version, and although some people can't stand it, I was mesmerized. Every word sounded the different, and the meaning seemed personalized, like Noel was singing to every individual in the audience yet we were all together in awe. I can still picture exactly how I stood, how he looked, how it sounded, more than two years later. That's 'wow.'

I can't help but think this probably sounds horribly cliché. But maybe there's something in that. There are no words strong enough to put my point across, so I'm stuck using a word my six-year-old niece uses regularly. But if you've had a 'wow' moment, you know what I mean.

Now, I've been to gigs that I've genuinely enjoyed that lacked this extra touch. They are in no way disappointing or unsatisfying; but I don't think I'll remember them twenty years from now. I will however remember hearing the first chords of Boys Don't Cry and feeling shivers extremely abnormal for a warm summer's night. That is, after all, a feeling I'd never want to forget...

I just wish one of those memories wasn't my thirteen-year-old crushes singing 'The Hardest Thing'. Eh, at least I've progressed.

Single Review: Dizzee Rascal - Dream

Author: Dollyrocker

Finally we get a 'Hey Ya' for 2004. The kind of single that creeps up the charts and stays there for 20 weeks. The kind of single that I play three times out in one night and it gets a bigger cheer each time. When I first heard this record I listened to it literally a hundred times in a row and still couldn't remember how it went afterwards.

Basically, you need to make this record part of your life straight away. It's Christmas number one in a faraway land that doesn't exist. It's out this week. Here are the lyrics, enjoy;

I'm not gunna pull this off man without signing the dots
This is too sensible for me man
How u gunna have a dream come true?

I used to dream about crazy little things like fame,
In the days hanging round outside the off licence,
We used to run around the steets reckless with no shame,
Mainly up to no good the whole world would ask us,
And when the girls would walk by we would try to catch their eye,
And if they didnt show face we would act immature,
Had a thing for south and hackney girls since i was a kid,
A couple of west girls on my radar i was raw,
And i was dead sure that i knew it all,
The whole world got my attitude i nearly blew it all,
I find it a real big struggle gettin through ot all,
I swear i didn't wanna listen cos i sure didn't care,
Not knowing for reality that i'd have to prepare,
Cos money don't grow on no stick, well its rare,
Me and boy was still looking less and less the lick,
Plus i was growing up, life was looking as a scare

I like the talky talky happy talk,
Talk about things you like to do,
You got to have a dream,
If you don't have a dream,
How you gunna have a dream come true

I used to love music it was like my hidden hobbie,
But i couldn't get on on local radio back then,
So i went to north london and trot to tottenham to be precise,
And got some air time on heat fm,
And then it esculated i was getting ratings here and there,
And carried on untill eventually i was everywhere,
I started doing all the hot spots ministry ceasers palace p area taminin v,
I did the grim and the glam,
I done the poor and the posh,
I didnt hang around i wanted my money in a rush,
Mind frame in the studio at this stage,
No time to chat i didnt wanna n-gage,
I found myself a new hustle it was beautiful,
A none like the one before a bit more suitable,
The more challenging it got the more i thought it,
Made an album over 100,000 people bought it
Thank you

To all the youngers cotchin on the staires in the flats,
With the superstar sockalings they'll come in the making,
U can go far if you put your mind to it,
You're a star, dont wait to be told, just do it,
Try to keep school in your plans dont be worrying about your mans,
They'll be there in the end if they're real, if they aint,
Dont be making no effort to impress cos you'll find out where you are just do what you feel,
Young babymother i got your back aswell,
Young babyfathers hold it down for your girl,
I aint trying to preach but for what its worth,
Back is the next generation planet earth,
Big shout to the world cos i've been all around,
And when im gone im always thinking about my home town,
Im from the LDN theres no forgetting that,
And the big UK i stay reppin that

You love that
You tell me you dont love that

Album Review: The Futureheads - The Futureheads

Author: Dollyrocker

The Futureheads new LP isn't actually VERY new, it was released back in July this year, although HMV currently have it under the new releases section, presumably to attract from the countless 'Band Of Gold' style chrimbo compilations just so that they can prove that y'know, we're down with the kids guy...

Not that The Futureheads are what you could call especially hip mind, it's just that they have put out one of the most kickarse, instantly likeable debut LPs of all time. Think The Jams 'In The City' meets Supergrass 'I Should Coco', just without the suits / cheeky grins, delete as applicable.

I've been to see The Futureheads a couple of times since hearing their debut; not that I have actually seen them yet though. The first was at their London Garage show in August, where I was embarrassingly stuck outside unable to by a bleedin' ticket, and when a couple finally showed up I ended up handing them over to a weeping oriental girl. Crikey. The second time they pulled their show because their bassist had had their flat burgled, and who did they rope in as the replacement? Good ol' Pete Doherty. Gawd, is it only me that got the irony there?

Ok, album; opens up with 'Le Garage' which sounds like Rod, Jane and Freddy in a row with The Jam, and when that is compressed into less than two minutes, this is a good thing. 'Robot' quickly follows, a sly nod to XTC doesn't go missed. 'Decent Days and Nights' was a single, bit of an odd choice, like a distant cousin to Blurs 'Popscene'. Later on in the LP we get the gentle lullaby of 'Carnival Kids' which again, wouldn't sound out of place in 'Modern Life Is Rubbish' and then an ace cover 'Hounds Of Love' by Kate Bush.

This band really are a breath of excellent, treat yourself to this album rather than some of the more insepid releases around at the moment, lets hear it for happy indie. The cover may be grey, but the music is bubbling with colour.

Why I Love Coldcut by Dollyrocker

Author: Dollyrocker

I can't really think of a reason NOT to like Coldcut really. Oh, you haven't heard them? Fair enough, happens to the best of us. You see, like all the worlds greatest innovators, Coldcut didn't and don't feel the need to run around telling everyone how great they are, instead they invented sampling in the UK, made stars out of Yazz and Lisa Stansfield, made a single purely out of sounds from a rainforest being chopped down, were the first people to release an album with mulitmedia bonus disc allowing you to remix their tracks and play games, and founded the label everyone loves to love; Ninja Tune.

Who, when, where, how and why? Lets rewind back to 1987. Some of you (me included) were young, and some of you might not have even been born. It was a shameful year musically. KLF had put out their groundbreaking and illegal (hee hee!) LP; 1987: "What The Fucks Going On?", and Coldcut, a couple of hip hop freaks who wanted to push things out a bit, had released their debut single; 'Say Kids (What Time Is It?)'. Never before had Deacon Blue and Dire Straits sounded so ridiculous. No one had heard of The Stone Roses yet. Hip Hop was the garage punk of the 80s, and Coldcut were cooking up the funk.

Any of you who have regulary been to my clubnight; Buttoned Down Disco, would have almost certainly heard 'Say Kids..', it's the one with the 150% feelgood factor and the 'Jungle Book' sample. Put simply, it's one of the most brilliant tracks to have been released that decade, and they had plenty more like that.

'Smoke Dis One' featured Queen Latifah and brilliantly fused Hip Hop, Funk and Reggae, whilst making people think about political awareness and freedom. AND you can dance to it. After setting the scene for UK white hip hop, Coldcut went on to produce a number of up and coming stars, as well as being a stable influence in the hip-house movement of the late 80s.

When Coldcut bound back into the public spotlight in the mid 90s, it was with the excellent 'Let Us Play' album, working with Tortoise, Kid Koala and T-Power on the exciting 'More Beats and Pieces' single, a live recording which scratched and cut up everything from The Mohawks to Peter And The Wolf with a healthy slab of funk and hip hop. By now, Coldcut were breaking down new barriers with visual art, and had built their own VJ/DJ software VJamm, allowing the live recreation of whole audiovisual pieces. By now, Coldcut were jamming and scratching with live video, and the crowds lucky enough to witness the tour of them doing this were gobsmacked by it's effect.

At the end of the 90s, the BBCs 'Tomorrows World' invited Coldcut to create a song on the internet in under an hour. Using Rescroket virtual studio technology, the challenge was met by musicians 'jamming' together in realtime in London, San Franscisco, South Africa and Los Angeles.

In short, Coldcut are the daddies in many ways, and if it is to be believed that they have a new album in the pipeline, then they are soon to be blowing minds and dominating the music press all over again. In the meantime, check out some of their stuff from either 'Let Us Play' from 1997, or a compilation of their early stuff from the 80s, and find out why they have been such a huge influence over the years. Failing that, get yourself to one of my parties, where I will have Coldcut in my DJ box for at least the next 50 years. Bless 'em.

Album Review: The Postal Service - Give Up

Author: Silke

I have to confess: I'm an addict. I recently created my own radio station on Yahoo LAUNCHcast Radio and I'm hooked. In case you've never heard of LAUNCHcast, the site lets you create your own radio station (you have to have a yahoo account) for which you have to rate artists, songs and albums. Basically you advise LAUNCHcast of the music you love and the music you simply can't stand and the system will produce a radio experience that includes music you adore as well as new music you might like based on your tastes.

The truth is I have become obsessed with it and have rated more than 5000 artists/tracks/albums which according to the site officially makes me an ADDICT. But the beauty of the radio station isn't just the fact that you can hear all your favourite tunes, but also that you get to discover new bands that other people who have similar tastes to you have rated highly. This is how I discovered The Postal Service.

I now have to confess again: I'm an addict. I'm absolutely captivated by the Postal Service's debut album "Give Up"; for the last eight days I have listened to nothing else. In my defence, the album is the most infectious and most exasperatingly addictive record I have heard in a long time.

The album is a collaboration between Ben Gibbard (from Death Cab For Cutie) and Jimmy Tamborello (from Figurine) and can only be described as a new wavey indie pop gem which makes me feel giddy and melancholic at once. It was created by Ben and Jimmy mailing tapes back and forth between their homes (hence the band name) and is full of wonderful details and background noises that you only catch after a few listens but which will absolutely hypnotise you.

It's hard to pick favourites on the album as it is the album as a whole that mesmerises me, but these are probably the highlights:

"The District Sleeps Alone Tonight" fuses the sound of funeral organs with what can only be described as slightly nervous, adolescent angsty beats and strings in a wonderful ballad full of heart break and loneliness.

"Such Great Heights" is a wonderful declaration of love with one of the most infectious openings I've heard in a long time.

"Sleeping In" is so catchy, sweet and mellow I almost want to hate it, but the vocals draw you in so much you can't help but fall in love with it.

"Nothing Better" has a dark bounciness that makes me quiver. I absolutely adore the lyrics of this duet which is the conversation of a couple breaking up and contemplating whether or not they're meant for each other.

"This Place Is A Prison" has a gloominess with almost whispered lyrics is simply delicious and the track has a breathtaking and intoxicating build up with a volcanic eruption of string and drum sounds.

"Brand New Colony"s main melody was put together from 1980s video game samples and simply makes me want to dance!

Altogether the whole album invites you into a dream of nostalgia and unrequited love with a melancholic indie pop sound which owes a lot to the early Cure and the camp electro pop of New Order, the Pet Shop Boys and Ultravox. I can but highly recommend it. A word of warning though: it is highly addictive!

Single Review: Destinys Child - Lose My Breath

Author: Chris Butler

Destiny's child are managed by Music World Management. The group first started with two members which were La Tavia and Beyonce. They had started Destiny's Child in the early years of 1990, Kelly then joined Destiny's Child in 1992. It was in this year they entered the American talent contest Star Search. The odds were against them as they were pitched against acts nearly three times their age and being placed in the hip-hop category with only one rap song to perform, although they didn't win the girls put this as a turning point for what was to become Destiny's Child.

Texas divas Destiny's Child are back and "Lose My Breath" fully re-instates them as one of the biggest female vocal groups of all time. This track reunites Kelly, Michelle and Beyonce with the hit that many feel was absent from all of their solo projects. Heavy basslines and killer dark beats mashed with sexy fast paced vocals and an infectious hook create an innovating club anthem worthy of any DJ's record box. Fans will go crazy for this one...

Live Review: Scissor Sisters at London Brixton Academy - 31st October 2004

Author: Becky Parkes

The Scissor Sisters need no introduction, and the atmosphere at their gigs is a tribute to their own particular brand of fun. Cheers from the front of the queue to anyone who arrived in fancy dress was a good indicator of the atmosphere for the whole night; everyone was in it together, and the only thing that mattered was the music. And, of course, the fancy dress.

The support band consisted of Kiki and Herb, clad as a pink sparkly cat and a dog in a dinner jacket respectively. They belted out their own unique takes on classics such as Tom Jones "Sex Bomb", and even "Smells Like Teen Spirit", as an excited crowd danced and sang along with them.

So now, onto the Scissor Sisters. They opened their set with a short film about playing Bloody Mary projected onto a backlit screen, to the amusement of all present, before launching into "Bicycling With The Devil", a rather appropriate opener for a Halloween gig. This was followed swiftly by "Laura", as the band appeared through clouds of steam dressed as the cast of "their favourite British film ever"; The Rocky Horror Show. Think Jake Shears as Dr Frank in uspenders and a basque, and Paddy Boom dressed in only tight gold pants as Rocky, you get the idea.

The band powered their way through a great set packed with classics from the album, plus a few extras, including a crowd-pleasing special performance of "Hot Patootie", complete with massacre of Eddie (Babydaddy). Other songs of note were "Filthy/Gorgeous", which had everyone bouncing along, and the moving rendition of "Mary"; cue the waving of lighters, glowing pumpkins, scythes, etc.

To bring a close to a hot and sweaty set of nearly two hours, what could have been better than "Music Is The Victim?" Heralded by a cry of "Is everyone ready to rock n' roll?!" by Jake, the Sisters were joined onstage by their suport band, two pairs of giant scissors, a yeti, a pumpkin, and of course, Death himself.

As well as the music, the Scissor Sisters entertain the crowd properly, rather than rushing straight into their next song as so many bands do. In between songs Ana and Jake kept the crowd amused with their usual wit, and praised the audience on their participation fancy-dress wise, all of which adds to the feeling that to this band, the fans really do matter. As a tired and danced-out crowd left the venue, I think it's safe to say that most of them would be thinking along similar lines; live, the Scissor Sisters are hard to match.

Album Review: Kings of Leon - Aha Shake Heartbreak

Author: Matti Gregory

It's difficult to talk about Kings of Leon without referring to them in the light of The Strokes. Kings had all the cool, the haircuts and riffs of their NYC compatriots, but a better biography. The story of their upbringing is so well known by now that there's no point in reprinting it, but it is rather ironic that the sons/nephews of a preacher in the Bible Belt would become some of the most renowned on-the-road party people since the Stones. Because this album, their second, is about all that. Specifically the mornings after.

And it's every bit as overpoweringly cool as you'd expect. First single "The Bucket" has all the riffs and the two-step drum beats we've come to expect after "Youth And Young Manhood", but with even less hanging around. Who needs choruses, after all? Elsewhere "Soft" deals with impotency, "Razz" has a delicious bassline and some lyrics that manage the difficult feat of being obscure and blatant at the same time. All of which is perfectly good, but it is difficult not to start comparing every tune to their counterparts on YAYM and "Is This It", such are the clear parallels between this and those two seminal works of the haircut and skin-tight jeans corner of the indie world.

But Kings have never tried to be original. It's all about the super-sharp guitar riffs ("Pistol of Fire" may well be Matthew Followill's best moment, even if it does still sound a bit much like "Spiral Staircase" off the first record), the almost unnecessarily sexy drawl that makes up the vocals, and, yes, the hair. Even without that beard.

So like "Room On Fire" (this isn't lazy journalism, promise), this is a record of evolution as opposed to revolution, a refining of a sound and a continuation of momentum. But like The Strokes, the Kings of Leon won't be able to pull the same trick three times and get away with it.

Live Review: You Am I at Perth Raffles Hotel - 11th October 2003

Author: Dennis Fernandez

I wasn't going to see You Am I tonight. Last time I saw them was some two years ago, primarily to check out the support act I had heard a few loud whispers about, some upstart New York group whom were brought out to Australia on the back of one EP. "The Modern Age" or something. Anyway, I had decided before this gig that You Am I were a band whose best days were behind them. They looked old and tired. Their Pete Townshend histrionics, which use to kick like a Jack Daniels enema, now looked like going through the motions. And I thought that they had begun to look and sound (worryingly) more and more like The Black Crowes. The spark that the support band showed emphasised this disparity. It wasn't long after this gig that I left Perth (disillusioned with living in the world's most isolated city, but hey that's another story).

Shortly after this gig, someone somewhere decided that "rock'n'roll" (in its Keef and Mick incarnation) was cool again and that bands looked good with vintage t-shirts and designer jeans (flared or otherwise). To my amusement, some hack in the NME decided that Australian bands (so often neglected outside of their own country by the conservative music press) could be used and propped up for a few cheap headlines, at least until the next pre-conceived "movement" came along (I remember some laughably patronising label, "The Ayers Rock" revolution or something). thought, for all the shit flying about, at least You Am I would finally get some recognition. (I'm still waiting).

(Anyway I began to move more and more away from bands whose songs you could sing along to. I figured that the art of the three and a half minute pop song was lost. Pop music, was beginning to mean either some prepackaged product endorsed by a telephone viewer poll and a tabloid newspaper campaign, or a rip-off, throwback con endorsed by a tabloid music press campaign to stay solvent. And it was anything but pure. Give me ten minute squalls of guitar distortion, preferably with a violin and two drummers. And no lyrics, or maybe just unintelligible vocoder ramblings. Or something.)

I went to see You Am I tonight. Like the last time, the band themselves were not my primary focus. Like the band and most of the punters there, I went to pay my last respects to the Raffles Hotel, a famous suburban Perth drinking hole that most nights resemble the treacherous hive of scum and villainy from Star Wars where Luke meets Han Solo. Tonight the other half of the hotel is being used for line-dancing. Seriously. And a biker's conference is upstairs. Possibly. Like the few other pubs of cultural significance in Perth, it has been listed for demolition and to be replaced by riverside apartments. It is also the pub where a young Tim Rogers sat around and listened to stories of family upheaval and sun-soaked idealism, the night that Auntie Jenny won 35 dollars on a horse called "Heavy Heart" and watching the sun set over the river, providing a backdrop to many a bar room brawl straight out of"Blazing Saddles". Probably. This was the Wild West. The last frontier. Literally. The pub that inspired more than a couple of songs. We had both left Perth for our own reasons and tonight found ourselves back.

Tonight I remembered why I loved You Am I. And it didn't take a lot of complicated thinking, either. They play good songs. And some nights they play them bloody well. Like tonight. It's why you take a risk against your better thinking and go to a gig. For the chance that on the night, everything can come together and make sense. It may have been the fact that the band have a new "Best Of" compilation to promote. Or maybe being newly liberated from their major label split, they are ready to embrace impending "indiehood". Nah, I reckon their intentions were simpler. Tonight they were "doing it for the Cash" (recently departed Johnny that is) and for a pub that they personally had a lot of good times in, to share with people who felt the same. And retrace a few favorite songs at the same time.

The songs transcend the influences that the band themselves wear on their sleeves. And whilst bands with the "we don't give a fuck" attitude are as common as a cliche, there are few who can carry off the "we don't give a fuck but come and have a beer with us" attitude without coming across all hippy (aargh). I had made the I hope not-unforgivable mistake of judging them on age against youth, style over substance. Bitterness perhaps because I can't grow sideburns and think that lime collared shirt with the top button missing should be consigned to St Vincent De Paul. The Pete Townshend histrionics were still there, but when Rogers did that windmill thing on his guitar, this time it felt instinctive and not forced. For Fun. Definitely.

(It recalled for me one night at the also soon to be demolished Perth Entertainment Centre where in a support slot, the band pulled out all the stops in front of a bemused 10,000 people who were there to hear that "Wonderwall song". When Noel Gallagher gave them his kudos after his own band were blown away by their opening act night after night on an Australasian tour in the peak of Oasis pomp, it was one endorsement that the monobrow got right.)

Tonight I forgave You Am I. For whatever it was I held against them. Tonight I forgave them for pushing their ex-proteges the Vines (ex-proteges) ahead of their own interests. Tonight I forgave them for indirectly giving us the blandtastic crime against humanity known as Jet. Tonight I forgave them for not giving me another record as perfect as "Hourly Daily" (one of the few records on my shelf that I can play at a summer gathering that isn't at risk of getting thrown onto the barbie, next to the snaggers in the space where the shrimp would be if I knew what the fuck shrimp was. Mental note: A Silver Mt Zion should not soundtrack a game of backyard cricket). Tonight I forgave them for declaring that success for them meant having money for beer and being able to make records and being able to hit the road and perform their records to their friends around the country and see a wee bit of the world. And not global domination.

I wanted to shout out at anyone who had never heard You Am I's "Damage" or "Berlin Chair" or anyone of a number of the songs they played tonight with reckless vigour, this is perfect pop music! It's pop, but it ain't pop(ular). When "Tales from the Australian Underground Volume 2" is reviewed in CarelessTalkCostsLives volume fifteen, issue 10,"Tuesday" will be declared a lost treasure (but why should it be lost until then?).

I wanted to go out and bat for them. To anyone who says that there are enough Antipodean acts getting their fifteen minutes in the British media I'll say sift through that pre-packaged, patronising posturing and look deeper. To anyone who said they saw them supporting some "Band of the Week" Britpop chancers circa 1995 and they were crap, I'll say that the sound was bad. To anyone who says that the tickets to see them at some shithole Oz-themed bar in Shepherd's bush were sold out, I'll say that their (now departed from) record company took the easy option of getting rent money from guaranteed ex-pat punters than converting new followers. To those who say they missed the boat, I'll say I want off too.

But why should I make excuses for them? They don't care if they don't fit in. They never did. Tonight I remembered there was such thing as a vox/guitar/bass/drum rock'n'roll band, who postured because they were having fun and not because of pretense and that could make you want to punch the air (or kick a hole in the sky). Most of all, I felt like sharing them.

Live Review: Franz Ferdinand at London Brixton Academy - 28th October 2004

Author: Richard Cosgrove

This time last year Franz Ferdinand weren't even on the musical radar of the vast majority of people (myself included), yet in the space of twelve months they've become the darlings of the indie scene, charmed the summer festival circuit, bagged themselves the Mercury Music Prize for their outstanding debut album, and now find themselves headlining three sold out nights at London's Brixton Academy.

The first of tonight's two supports comes from Bob Log III, a multi-instrumentatlist in a jumpsuit and flight helmet who plays what can only be described as thrash accoustic guitar. We only caught the last four songs, but I suspect that was enough.

Next up are Franz labelmates The Kills, a boy/girl duo who are reminiscent of early PJ Harvey in both attitude and sound. The singer, a tall, thin cross between Polly Jean and a young Siouxsie stalks the stage with a commanding presence while the guitarist gives the crowd a constant thousand yard stare. The songs, while essentially walls of noise that Phil Spector would be proud of, also contain enough passion and emotion to keep the crowd's attention, and they manage to hold their own against now packed to the rafters Brixton Academy that is baying for the Franzie Boys. As soon as The Kills leave the stage a white curtain comes down with a picture of the arch-duke himself on it and you can literally feel the anticipation in the air.

The lights go down and the band are are silhouetted on the curtain in 'ready to rock' pose for a few seconds, teasing the roraring crowd, before the curtain drops and they launch into 'Michael'. The stripped down set and the band's smart attire conjour up images of 60s beat combos and guitarist Nicholas McCarthy in particular looks like he's just stepped off stage at Al's Diner and onto that of the Academy. In fact, so much of the media attention is focused on Alex Kapranos that the sheer enthusiasm and energy with which McCarthy worked the stage almost as a double act with Kapranos, switiching effortlessly between guitar and keyboards, came as a pleasant surpise. An honourable mention also to the ultra-tight rhythm section of drummer Paul Thomson and bassist Rob Hardy, who seemed content to let the other two monopolise the spotlight whileproviding a faultless backline for them.

'Tell Her Tonight' and 'Auf Achse' followed swiftly, keeping the crowd well and truly worked up, and then we get the first of three new songs. 'This Boy', which along with 'I'm Your Villain' and 'Your Diary', both delivered later in the set, suggest that Franz Ferdinand are no one album wonder, and that come the release of their second album next year, they'll either be stepping up to the London arena circuit or booking themselves in for a week at the Academy. All three feature huge hooks, and in 'I'm Your Villain' we get enough time changes to keep even the most ardent Rush fan happy.

The biggest response of the night comes, inevitably, for 'Take Me Out', which has the Brixton crowd pogoing like their life depended on it, and the band whirling around the stage like Taz on speed. The entire album gets an airing tonight, along with b-sides 'Van Tango', 'Love and Destroy', and encore opener 'Shopping For Blood' (complete with the aforementioned Bob Log III guesting on drums and beating them to within an inch of their lives).

New US single 'This Fire' closes the show, with the band in such high spirits that Kapranos and McCarthy even venture into the photographer's pit, grinning ear to ear, to get closer to the crowd, and then it's all over, the band linking hands for a curtain call as we make our way, satisfied and entertained, into the London night.