Album Review: Kaiser Chiefs - Employment

Author: Richard Cosgrove

Hot on the heels of The Killers and The Bravery comes Yorkshire's own Kaiser Chiefs, of which much has already been written about their plundering of the Britpop back catalogue, but who are still very worthy of the attention being granted them in the media.

Last year's infectious single I Predict A Riot placed the Kaiser's firmly on the musical map, thanks in no small part to Zane Lowe's endorsement, on whose show I first heard them several months ago, and the follow up Oh My God has seen them grace Top Of The Pops (though not the honour it was years ago, still an important promotional platform) and kick their way into the living rooms of the nation.

Their debut album Employment has now hit the racks, and it's put up or shut up time for the band as to whether they truly can claim to be in the same league as the aforementioned Las Vegas and New York natives.

Opening with Everyday I Love You Less And Less, the Kaiser's sound exactly how you'd imagine Dirt Wears White Sox era Adam & The Ants would have sounded if Vince Clark had joined them instead of forming Depeche Mode. Vocalist Ricky Wilson is at times very reminiscent of a young Stuart Goddard, and with the rest of the band joining in with harmonies straight from the Kings Of The Wild Frontier songbook it's like the early 80s never went away.

A strong hook in the chorus bodes well for the album as it gives way into I Predict A Riot, with its' vaguely Specials overtones and surely the only song in recent memory to use the word 'thee' in the lyrics. By now we're getting the picture that the Kaiser Chiefs are the successors to the witty British lyric throne that Blur have long since abdicated, after themselves succeeding Madness.

Modern Way follows, with Wilson giving his best monotone Gary Numan-esque delivery over a steady bass heartbeat before coming across all Damon Albarn in the chorus to great effect. In fact, this could have been a Blur track once upon a time, but Nick 'Peanut' Baines's electro-bleepy keyboards lift it above anything that Blur produced in their prime.

Joining the ranks of The Police, Bad Manners and Trio in the league of nonsensical song titles, Na Na Na Naa is an up-tempo romp that currently does the honours as their live set opener, and is the tune that Noel Gallagher should have written for Definitely Maybe instead of Digsy's Dinner, though Liam could never have conjured up the sense of fun that Wilson brings to the song.

You Can Have It All is what Madness would have sounded like performing one of their more introspective numbers with Terry Hall on vocals. It's one of a couple of fillers on the album, but does have its' merits.

Current single Oh My God wouldn't have sounded out of place on one of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' earlier albums, stomping its' way out of the speakers and all over your front room carpet, while Born To Be A Dancer's chorus is one of those that will lodge itself in your brain and declare squatter's rights, simultaneously coming across all pomp and melodrama while being reminiscent of Weezer's Buddy Holly in places.

Saturday Night sounds exactly like a song called Saturday Night should sound, big and brash and full of attitude - "we're going to hell anyway, let's travel first class". What Did I Ever Give To You is a return to Terry Hall territory, more Colourfield than Specials but none the worse for it.

The Adam & The Ants influence comes back with a vengeance in Time Honoured Tradition which conjures up images of young men in pirate outfits swigging ale from large tankards to the strains of Marco Pirroni's distinctive guitar sound.

The album runs out of steam slightly on the last two tracks, Caroline Yes and Team Mate, going out with a whimper rather than a bang. Both are decent tracks, but it would have been nice to go out in the blaze of glory of glory suggested by the rest of the album. Rather than riding off into the sunset, we're carted off in the back of a police van to Leeds gaol.

Overall, though, the Kaiser Chiefs have produced a debut album that they can be proud of, and while with this Employment they may not be in line for a big promotion just yet, they're a long way from their P45s.

Live Review: Electric Six at London Astoria - 10th March 2005

Author: Becky Parkes

Hands up who remembers 'Gay Bar'? Despite a perfectly good pair of albums, it still remains the most famous (infamous?) song that Electric Six have churned out to date. Rather fitting, then, that the last night of their UK tour should be at the Astoria, home of G-A-Y bar.

Unfortunately I missed the support bands, so I can't tell you anything about them... but Electric Six were certainly on form. Opening well with some of their new material, the crowd were quite happily danced and pogo-ed along. Things started to liven up a little more once they got into some of their older stuff; 'Danger! High Voltage!' in particular, was well received, but the highlight had to be, predictably, 'Gay Bar'. As the band launched into what has become something of a signature tune, it's fair to say that everyone went a bit...mental. In a good way - the sort of mental that leaves you out of breath and with sore calves from leaping too high, rather than trampled and bruised. The energetic burst over with, the band slowed things down a little, before springing off again into 'Improper Dancing' with an extended interlude in the middle where the crowd had the somewhat dubious pleasure of being serenaded by Dick Valentine wearing nothing but his boxers.

The encore wasn't the best ever; however the performance of 'Devil Nights' went down well, as did the rendition of Queen's 'Radio Ga Ga' - cue hands in the air and clapping, with 'Dance Commander' to finish. All in all, a pretty good night out. Although the atmosphere wasn't as (ahem) electric as it can be at some more hyped gigs, there was a buzz and the crowd definitely left pleased and (probably) bounced-out.

Album Review: The Bravery - The Bravery

Author: Richard Cosgrove

Musically, it's all been done before. There's nothing new that can be done with the seven notes we have to play with so inevitably the old maxim of what goes around comes around rings true every so often, usually every other generation in terms of music fans.

In the last twelve months or so, it's been the turn of the eighties again, with bands like Franz Ferdinand and The Killers taking the earlier half of that decade as their inspiration and producing a pair of the better albums to grace the airwaves. Even The Strokes got in on the eighties act briefly with the synth-drenched Reptilla, but their New York City brethren The Bravery have succeeded in finally nailing everything that was great about the synthpop revolution of twenty years ago and have brought it kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.

Formed just a couple of years ago, the brainchild of singer, songwriter and producer Sam Endicott, The Bravery are completed by keyboard player John Conway (with whom Endicott first got together to 'electronicise' his songs), guitarist Michael Zakarin, drummer Anthony Burulcich and bassist Mike H. At their HQ on the corner of Mott and
Broome near Chinatown, the band have plotted their imminent global domination, handling everything themselves, from recording their upcoming debut album to designing all of their own artwork, and producing their own videos (check out the inventive clip for new single Honest Mistake).

Having topped the BBC News website's Sound of 2005 poll, and named as one of MTV's Artists To Watch the band are about to play a short UK tour before heading out on a co-headlining US tour with Ash to promote the 'Bravery' album (released on Island records in mid-March).

So, what's it like? Well take three parts Duran Duran, two parts Cure, a dash of U2, a hint of The Smiths and a splash of Depeche Mode, mix thoroughly and decant into a shot glass and you're there.

Honest Mistake opens with a synth line reminiscent of Blue Monday before taking off like a jet-powered bonus track from the first Duran album. Endicott's vocals sit somewhere between Robert Smith and Ian McCullough without sounding too much like either one of them, and have that certain charismatic something that great front men possess. Swollen Summer continues the Duran theme, sounding like a twice-removed cousin of Friends Of Mine and features a killer synth solo that gives way to a blistering guitar workout.

No Brakes begins like early U2 done to perfection, down to the driving New Years Days bass line and Edge-esque guitar work, before delivering an infectious chorus that the Cure would kill for. Robert Smith's influence is all over Hot Pursuit as well, the song being another example of the kind of killer tune the former Banshee used to produce when he had his pop hat on.

Tyrant is, on the surface, a by-numbers mid-tempo tune that manages to sound simultaneously like a dozen of songs that spring to the tip on your tongue and yet like manages to take these familiar elements and craft something with real depth that is quite brilliant in its' apparent simplicity.

No Ring On These Fingers is a slice of vintage Bunnymen, Endicott's delivery so reminiscent of Mac in places that you can almost see him standing on stage wearing an ankle length black coat and sporting a gravity defying hairdo, hands clasped firmly around the microphone stand.

Out Of Line's arpreggiated synth line drives this swaggering bastard son of The Damned's Grimly Fiendish, and has one of those choruses that will barricade itself inside your head and refuse to come out. This is one squatter that you won't mind hanging around for a while, though.

Hot Sunshiney Day and Public Service Announcement are pure summer songs. The former will surely be gracing a car ad before long, it's bouncy bass line extolling the virtues of the latest hatchback, while the latter ricochets around the inside of your skull, all busy bass and laid back vocals (complete with background "ooh ooh"s that will be with you for months) until you can't help but move your feet. I can feel the sun from here.

Debut single Unconditional is a melodious cacophony of driving bass and distorted guitars that conjures up the spirit of the late Billy McKenzie, both in vocal delivery and sentiment as Endicott sings "I've spent my whole life surrounded / And I've spent my whole life alone". Similarly paced Fearless is a hybrid of early Duran and Duchess-era Stranglers that kicks it's way out of the speakers, not caring who gets in the way.

Open Heart Surgery breaks out the acoustic guitars and echo chamber, delivering a hypnotic ballad in the vein of Death In Vegas's Scorpio Rising that is at once calming and haunting, and proves that there is real depth to the band.

On the strength of these twelve tracks, ten of which will make it into the final running order of the album and will hopefully retain the raw, live feel that these recordings have, The Bravery show great potential and will certainly give Franz Ferdinand and The Killers a run for their money.

Album Review: The Killers - Hot Fuss

Author: Richard Cosgrove

Hailing from Las Vegas, the Nevada city of sin previously responsible for such exports as Andre Agassi and Toni Basil (thanks for that one), The Killers burst onto the music scene last year with single Mr Brightside, a twisted study of jealousy that made me sit up and take notice. Along with Franz Ferdinand it seemed that guitar pop (for want of a better term) was becoming exciting again and here was a band that I needed to find out more about and more importantly hear more of.

Following their performance of "Somebody Told Me" on Jonathan Ross's show I was sold, and picked up the album.

To the sound of helicopters and radio noise, the opening riff to "Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine" is quickly followed by a gently galloping bassline that conjours up images of early Duran, an image further reinforced by the eighties sounding synth that provides the underpinning melodic backbone to the song. Singer and keyboard player Brandon Flowers' vocals are eerily reminiscent of the late Billy McKenzie, but shot through with a healthy dose of the Robert Smiths.

This hybrid vocal style is most effectively used on "Mr Brightside", which kicks off with a pseudo-Blink 182 riff but soon becomes a driving anthem to jealousy which was instrumental in the band picking up airplay and bringing them to the attention of the great British public.

"Smile Like You Mean It" takes the classic Cure pop blueprint and combines it with lyrics that would do Morrissey proud, and indeed the solo brings to mind Stephen Street's classic fretwork on Suedehead. All this is shot through with more eighties synth work and some of the crispest drum sounds that I've heard for a good while.

Candidate for most infectious chorus of the year, "Somebody Told Me" is next, its' rumbling bass line driving the song forward with the force of a juggernaught before "All These Things That I've Done" changes the pace, beginning with a lonely piano and sparse vocal, and building to a repeated refrain of "I got soul, but I'm not a soldier" in the middle of the song.

"Andy You're A Star" opens with a jarring, almost discordant riff that is quickly joined by a simple throbbing bass line and Flowers' melodically monotone vocals, all of which work together very effectively. In direct contrast, "On Top" gives us an early-Duran versus early-U2 concoction which sways along with an easy lilt and gives guitarist David Keuning a chance to be The Edge for four minutes, an opportunity he makes the most of in spectacular fashion.

"Change Your Mind" could be the product of a union between The Smiths and Depeche Mode, with its' delightfully twee keyboard riff sitting prettily atop an indie-by-numbers backing, but doesn't suffer at all for it. "Believe Me Natalie" is perhaps the track that most wears it's Smiths influences on its' sleeve, but manages to turn itself into a five minute epic rather than echoing the standard three minute Morrissey/Marr compositions of old.

"Midnight Show" again plunders the early U2 back catalogue, but again manages to infuse enough originality to
allow itself to wear the 'homage' badge rather than the 'thieving bastards' badge and delivers a sordid tale of murder, which along with "Jenny..." and the as yet unreleased "Leave The Bourbon On The Shelf" forms a trilogy of interconnected songs concerning the same real-life murder of a Vegas girl by her jealous boyfriend.

Album closer "Everything Will Be Alright" gives Flowers chance to distort his voice and really channel the spirit of Billy McKenzie for almost six minutes of hypnotic drums and synths, rounded out by a superbly restrained solo that leads into the song's fade out.

In short, "Hot Fuss" takes all of the finest ingredients from eighties pop music and combines them into a very palatable blend of nostalgia that seems right at home now, some twenty five years after that decade drew its' last breath..

Live Review: British Sea Power at Tunbridge Wells High Rocks - 11th February 2005

Author: Matti Gregory

There are many ways a band can make a show difficult to review. It can be bland without distinguishing features to comment on. It can be impossible to pin down in a way people who weren't present can understand. But this is the first time I've struggled to review a gig because I'm lost for words. Because by the end of their set in a beautiful (and rather small) hall in the middle of nowhere, British Sea Power will make words irrelevant, along with such petty matters as life, possessions, and everything that isn't related to British Sea Power. Before the end they will convert a hundred cynical Libertines fans and contravene just about every health and safety law in existence, as well as put on one of the most memorable performances anyone watching can remember.

To a backdrop of stuffed magpies and ivy purloined from the surrounding environment, the five members of BSP (Yan, Hamilton, Noble, Eamon and Wood) summon up a noise that effortlessly switches from wistful to brutal, from melancholic melody to blitzkrieg post-punk. During the opening "Apologies To Insect Life" Yan will yelp about Russian literature and make sure everyone in the front row gets a good view of his gums while Noble threatens to bring the building down with a slicing guitar riff. New single "It Ended On An Oily Stage" is a better piece of '80s indie than most stuff actually from the '80s, and "The Scottish Wildlife Experience" threatens to instigate a small-scale Hillsborough Incident. But as good as they are throughout the set (and believe me, they are brilliant), a show can only be as good as it's ending. And what an ending it is tonight.

"Rock In A" is stretched out into a twenty minute epic that might become tiresome if ever recorded properly, but here the song is played with jaw-dropping intensity. But even the song is merely a background to the Sea Power boys' antics - Eamon strides through the crowd with a huge bass drum getting hugs from strangers and letting everybody bang out a rhythm with their hands, while Noble clambers onto the wooden roof beams and crawls like a sloth before dropping into the crowd, Hamilton breaks not only two bass strings but nearly his neck as he swings from a chandelier several feet above the floor and threatens to bring the whole thing down, Yan surfs through the crowd pretending variously to be Superman and Biggles and previously ordinary people are suddenly possessed to cover themselves in foliage and scream themselves horse.

As a certain famous individual almost once said: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some are British Sea Power.

Live Review: Rammsttein at Brixton Academy - 3rd February 2005

Author: Richard Cosgrove

If there's one band that can't be accused of doing things by halves, it's Rammstein. Taking the best bits from theatrical rock shows of the last few decades and putting their unique stamp on them, they've gained a formidable reputation as one of the most outrageous and entertaining live acts on the planet.

Tonight they've rolled into London town for the first of three sold out nights at Brixton Academy, a surprising choice of venue given that the rest of their UK tour is taking in the country's arenas and cattle-sheds, which are seemingly much better suited for the large scale spectacles that Rammstein are renowned for. It also raises the question of just how much of their full stage show they'll be allowed to use in the Academy, particularly as they had to cancel their gig at the Astoria a couple of years ago due to Camden Borough Council's concerns over the amount of pyrotechnics
that they wanted to use. As it turned out, our fears were unfounded, and this was to be quite a night.

After five minutes of doom-laden atmospheric music, the lights go down and five burly men in white shirts and black ties walk onto the stage, carrying baseball bats with lights attached to the ends. They begin goading the audience for a few moments until a blue light illuminates the curtain, silhouetting the stage set as the intro to"Reise Reise" begins. The five monkey-boys turn to look at the curtain and what lies beyond it with a sense of pantomime awe, for this is what a Rammstein show is all about, the spectacle, and over the next hundred minutes or so we're going to get just that.

The curtain falls, quickly bundled away by the suits, and Rammstein are here, tearing into the song with a ferocity and volume that can actually be felt through the floor. The set resembles a set from Alex Proyas's Dark City, and the band stand (or sit in the case of drummer Christoph Schneider stand) atop this structure, some twenty feet above stage level, clad in black leather.

Suddenly a door opens in the front of the set, and vocalist Till Lindemann walks slowly onto the stage, dressed head to toe in, what else, black. Half way through the song, guitarists Richard Kruspe-Bernstein and Paul Landers step onto lifts that owe a debt to KISS's classic 1970s stage shows and descend to stage level. They stand rigid at their mikes, as is the Rammstein way, delivering their solos and backing vocals (Lander's mike stand complete with a neat kickstand mechanism that allows it to lay flat on the floor until needed) before returning to the top of the set as the song finishes.

Without pause, Schneider begins the unmistakable drumming of "Links-2-3-4" as the five front-line members file out of the set door, marching into place. At this point my fears that playing a venue as small as the Academy might hinder the use of the band's pyrotechnics are laid to rest as a huge explosion heralds the song's buzzsaw guitar riff, and appears to take out the first five rows of the audience, spewing enough smoke into the air to render the band invisible for several seconds. The fervour and enthusiasm of the audience in shouting along with the song's militaristic refrain conjured up images of Nuremberg, with Lindemann rallying his troops, an image bolstered by keyboard player Christian "Flake" Lorenz being dressed like the long-lost seventh member of the Village People, complete with stormtrooper helmet, short lederhosen and knee-high socks.

"Keine Lust" follows, leading nicely into "Feuer Frei" during which we get our first taste of Rammstein's pyro. During the quiet middle section, facemasks are strapped onto Lindemann and his two guitarists and we are treated to the sight of them spewing thirty foot columns of flames over each other and the audience. As this is happening, from where we are standing the crowd is a sea of mobile phone screens, the audience recording this moment for posterity. We could feel the heat from our vantage point some fifty feet away so the audience at the front must have momentarily questioned the wisdom of being so close to three manic Germans with enough firepower to barbecue the first ten rows.

"Morgenstern" comes next, giving the audience chance to catch their breaths after the fiery face masks - it's one thing marvelling over them in the video, but to actually see, and feel, it live is quite another matter. The band
disappear off stage after the song, as Lindemann appears in the doorway dressed as a chef, carrying a knife the
size of which would do Michael Myers proud, and pushing a giant cauldron. In the absence of "Buch Dich" on this tour
and it's ejaculatory hi-jinks, it seems Rammstein have found a new way to torment Flake, who has a keyboard
strapped to the side of the cauldron and pops up and down throughout "Mein Teil" to play his parts. Being a
cauldron, and this being Rammstein, it's somewhat inevitable that fire will be involved at some point, and right
on cue Lindemann is handed a flamethrower and proceeds to engulf the cauldron, with Flake inside it, in wave after
wave of flames. As he hands the weapon back to a stagehand, Flake climbs out of the cauldron, his arms and legs
now on fire thanks to some strategically strapped fireworks and runs around the stage before exiting stage right.

Ballad "Stein um Stern" is served up as the dessert course to "Mein Teil"s main event, after which a small drum kit is placed at the front of the stage and Schneider descends via one of the lifts to take up his position alongside a new feature for this tour, acoustic guitars. "Los", with it's harmonica solo and Bavarian slap dancing courtesy of Flake is the sort of thing that only a band like Rammstein could get away with, and get away with it they do, with some style. I never thought I'd see the day that Rammstein would play acoustically but it just goes to show hat this is no one-trick band. Schneider remains at stage level for "Moskau" before returning to his lofty perch for "Du Reichts So Gut".

At the beginning of the song, Lindemann appears with his legendary fiery bow, whirling it around his head with wild abandon, and managing to actually set one of the monitors on fire, which judging from the horrified expression on the roadie who ran over to it with a fire blanket wasn't part of the show's plan. For the song's solo, guitarists Kruspe-Bernstein and Landers stand together with yet more fireworks strapped to their upper arms.

Rammstein's best known song "Du Hast" comes next, and spectacle wise would have been might impressive purely for the huge jets of fire at the front and rear of the stage that reached almost to the Academy's ceiling. That clearly wasn't impressive enough for Rammstein, however, so Lindemann is handed another bow and takes aim at a target high in the lighting rig. He shoots, and scores as four balls of fire go flying out along wires over the audience's heads. On a roll now, and into the final straight of the main set, "Sehnsucht" follows, accompanied by several huge explosions over Schneider's head in perfect synchronicity with his drumming.

Set closer "Amerika" sees Flake wheeling himself around the stage on a Segway vehicle, the two wheel scooter-type things previously best associated with Peter Gabriel, and managing to both steer and play keyboards without falling off the stage or mowing down his fellow band members. The song reached its climax and the Academy erupted
into a maelstrom of red, white and blue ticker tape blown out over the audience.

After a short interval, the band walked back onstage, and began the slow and powerful "Rammstein". Having since forsaken his fiery coat, Lindemann appeared through the door with what can only be described as two flamethrower
gauntlets which he fired up frequently throughout the song, almost setting the stage on fire towards the end when
he accidentally pulled the trigger whilst his arms were pointing downwards!

"Sonne" follows, complete with the return of the flame columns before the first encore wraps up with "Ich Will". Flake and Lindemann then took the stage alone for a run through "Ohne Dich, the singer resting his head on the keyboard players shoulder while he sang.

The fitting show finale was their superb cover of Depeche Mode's "Stripped", which turned a synth-pop classic into a huge riff-heavy, jarring industrial masterpiece. It was at this point that bassist Oliver Reidel finally got to have some fun. Up to now every other band member had had their moment of excess, whether it be with flamethrowers, fiery face masks, scooters or exploding drumsticks, but not Reidel. Now, though, he got to partake in Rammstein's unique form of crowd surfing, by climbing aboard a rubber dinghy and setting sail over the heads of the crowd. He navigated his boat almost to the back of the Academy, falling out twice but being helped instantly back into this boat, and providing one of the most amazing live spectacles that this writer has ever seen, bringing whole new meaning to audience participation.

Safely back on the stage, the band wrapped up "Stripped" and after thanking the audience in English, disappeared one by one through the stage door, leaving Flake alone to play his portable keyboard as he was hoisted up on a lift to the top of the set before disappearing down the back stairs as the house lights came up.

Ladies and gentlemen, the bar for theatrical rock performances has well and truly been raised.

Music Feature: Dressed To Sell - Single Packaging In Days Gone By by Richard Cosgrove

Author: Richard Cosgrove

Walk into any record shop these days to pick up the latest single by a band and chances are you'll be presented with the choice of maybe two or three different configurations of songs spread over a series of CDs. If you're lucky you might get a poster included that's been folded so many times in order to fit it into the CD case that the chances of it ever serving it's true purpose are slimmer than getting a word in edgeways with David Lee Roth. If you're really lucky, maybe you'll get a couple of miniature postcards, a Lilliputian calendar or some faux-Polaroids tucked into the jewel case.

Very occasionally you'll get a vinyl release to accompany the CD(s), but usually only in the case of up and coming indie bands that no-one has heard of yet, and quite probably never will (but for those few that do, the early fans can forever smugly ask "do you have the seven inch vinyl of so-and-so? No? Shame, I've got ten copies myself"). Even then the packaging will undoubtedly be plain and uninspiring, or in the case of dance music twelve inch vinyl releases, it's standard fare to get a plain white card sleeve with a sticker advertising the artist and track name and very little else. True, it does the job, but there's not the sense of excitement that there once was when a new single was released.

Back in the days before CDs (inconceivable to some of you, no doubt) there was much more creativity and imagination involved in the release of a new single, particularly in the rock music arena which I grew up in, where almost literally anything was possible. The advent of a new single wasn't just about what it would sound like, it was also about what it would look like, or what it would come packaged in.

There were, of course, your fairly standard seven and twelve inch picture bags, the next step up from which was the gatefold sleeve. Poison's Nothin' But A Good Time came in a particularly eye-catching lime green gatefold sleeve adorned with day-glo pictures of the chicks-with-dicks themselves. Great song, garish cover, but this was the realm of the hair band and gimmicks like this did sell additional copies of the singles. I regularly bought all of the limited editions of many a rock band, not with thoughts that they may one day become valuable and provide me with a nice little nest egg (a good job too, as it turns out), but for the sheer joy of having all these unusual releases.

Poster bags were another popular format, not only enticing us to buy additional copies of the single, but also giving us the means to plaster our walls with spandex-clad long-haired mascara-wearing men. Nice.

Picture discs offered a wide range of possibilities, and the marketing departments didn't disappoint. There were of course just the bog standard picture discs in seven or twelve inch format (or both occasionally) that would replicate the regular edition's artwork, some of which were particularly effective, like Iron Maiden's awesome artwork for Aces High, which gave you the opportunity to have twelve inches of Maiden mascot Eddie's face revolving forty five times a minute on your record player.

The Dog's D'Amour went one step further than this, combining the best of both worlds by having a gatefold sleeve into which the twelve inch pictures discs for their Satellite Kid and Trail Of Tears singles could be slotted. What made this stand out, however, was that each of the singles had a Tyla-drawn cartoon which when placed correctly into the gatefold sleeve enabled you to read the whole story.

One of the more interesting examples of the shaped picture disc was WASP's PMRC-baiting Animal (Fuck Like A Beast) which was cut into the shape of the bloodied buzz-saw codpiece modelled by Blackie Lawless on the cover of
the regular twelve inch. Guns'N'Roses had one of the best for my money, though. Their Paradise City release came as an eleven inch disc in the shape of a gun, complete with its' own holster shaped sleeve. A gold star to the bright spark who thought that one up.

Coloured vinyl was an occasional temptation, usually in some garish shade of green or pink (I'm looking at you again, Poison), although Bon Jovi managed to come across all patriotic for their Lay Your Hands On Me release which was available on no less than three separate seven inch coloured vinyls in red, white and blue. For good measure (and to ensure that my wallet was thoroughly cleaned out) they also released it on a shaped picture disc.

Other one-off novelties of the time included The Cult's Sun King which was housed in a black PVC hologram sleeve, and M's Pop Music which had a double groove meaning that when you dropped your needle onto the vinyl you never knew which of the two songs on it you were going to get, but the award for the most original and outrageous format of all time goes to Bay Area thrashers Vio-lence.

The band, known for their aggressive marketing, came up with the ultimate in offensive packaging, even managing to get the format banned from some record shops, when they decided to release their Eternal Nightmare single in a special 'vomit pack'. This was a clear plastic sleeve filled with vomit (actually vegetable soup and vinegar, but it still gave off enough of a vile aroma to induce the genuine article if you got too close, especially on hot days) into which the single could be inserted. Sadly for the band it did little to raise their profile, but it did guarantee them a place in the history of music marketing.

Sadly the days of interesting formats seem to have gone the way of 8-tracks, cassette singles and Michael Jackson's career, but consider this. With record companies having finally embraced the download market for singles, we may in a few years be mourning the loss of even the bland CD single format.

Band Feature: Muse

Author: Peter Muscutt

'The Day I Sold Chris Wolstenholme Olive Oil' - Tales of Muse from the town of Teignmouth

People are often confused when I tell them I come from Teignmouth. 'Where's that?' they ask, a puzzled expression on their faces. 'It's in Devon' I reply. More blank faces. More scratching of heads. The money shot comes with: 'It's where the band Muse come from'. 'Ahh, right, got you!' they'll say. Yeah right, as if you could point it out on a map!

Coming from the same town as a now globally successful rock band affords the occasional tale about the less glamorous side of rock n' roll. The most visible member of the band in the Teignmouth area is bass player Chris Wolstenholme, who, unlike a number of famous people, obviously hasn't forgotten his roots back home, and can be seen wandering about town or in the supermarket when the group are not away recording or touring. In fact, when I used to live there, he was often seen inside the local Co-op, where I had my first meeting with him after he asked me (very politely I must add) where the olive oil was, then I had the privilege of serving him as well! That must have been around 1998/99, just as the band were starting to get noticed, and it was a major talking point the next day at college, I can tell you - especially interested was a guy called Andrew, who was the 'Official Muse Spokesman' at college, and could often be seen spouting the virtues of the band's debut EP, which he would play CONSTANTLY during our A-Level Art classes. It was quite funny to look back and realise that Andrew was actually the one with his finger on the pulse at that time, claiming Muse would be 'The Next Big Thing'. The only thing was, nobody believed him! To our shame, we all had Muse down as one of those groups that would do well, but certainly not be as big as they were destined to become. They'd maybe release a couple of EPs in local record stores and perhaps play a few decent local venues, but...we just thought they'd die out and eventually pack it in. How embarrassed we were when Andrew proudly came into college clutching a copy of Muse's debut album Showbiz, which soon took precedence over the EP he had been playing to death on the Art room's stereo. It's worth mentioning also that I did go and buy a copy of the band's first EP just to see what all the fuss was about, and recently sold it on auction site eBay for 180 quid, so...thanks to Andrew for that! I kick myself now when I think about the other six copies the record store had in, which would have probably sold for equally ludicrous sums of currency!

There are rumours of lead singer Matt Bellamy popping back to get another custom-made guitar picked up from Manson's Guitars in Exeter, but he seems to be very elusive - the only possible sighting we've had of young Matthew was by my mate Simon, who thinks he saw him get out of a car in Newton Abbot and go into Argos wearing some very scruffy clothes. He was in two minds about this though. If you're in Exeter it might be worth popping into Manson's and persuading the owner to let you have a look at his latest project! The last axe I saw in the workshop was a guitar (sorry, I'm crap with guitar models, as I am with most car models) with a cracked mirror effect, which worked most wonderfully on stage when the lights would catch it and reflect back into the audience.

But it's certainly Chris that we see back in Teignmouth most often (of drummer Dominic Howard, there has been no sightings by anyone I know). He's also the one we identified most with during our college days, seeing as myself and 'Official Muse Spokesman' Andrew were in the same class as his sister.

It was one (very drunken) New Year's Eve in a Teignmouth pub called The Devon Arms when his sister, who was working behind the bar at the time, received a call to say Chris' wife/partner had given birth to their baby, and we were all trying to listen into the call, shouting things like 'what have they named it?' - always trying to get some Muse related trivia!!

My last encounter with Mr Wolstenholme was at Tescos' this Christmas - it was a couple of days before Christmas Eve, and he was buying a very large quantity of Quality Street. In fact, he had about six boxes of the stuff in his basket. It was absolutely heaving in the store, and I was tempted to ask him if it was as busy as the band's recent London Earls Court gig they'd played only a few days previously! I'm never sure if he sort of recognises me when I see him around town - this time he kind of nodded to me as I looked over at him, and it always makes me wonder if Simon, my friend and old band-mate (when we were in a group called The Freak Travel City Kids, who, it must be said, did not really repeat Muse's run of good fortune and commercial success and fragmented around about mid-2003) managed to ever get Chris to have a look at our band's website. The story behind that particular tale was that Simon's cousin's half-sister's dog's best mate (who is really more a friend of a friend) knew Chris and his family, and Simon reckoned he could politely ask them if Chris wouldn't mind taking a look at our website, which contained all our lyrics and other various stuff. As I say, I'm not actually sure if he ever did see it, but I'd like to think so! I don't really know what Simon's motive for getting a member of Muse to look at a shoddily put-together website was, I think he was dreaming of an easy passage into the music business, but then again that's like asking the man who works on the turnstiles at Highbury if he can get you in the Arsenal squad! It's a documented fact that Muse didn't really think much of Teignmouth as a place to live, and I guess to be honest, it's not all that great (for the young 'uns, anyhow) but there are certainly worse places to spend your time.

So there you have it - olive oil, shopping for new guitars, drunken discoveries of new born babies with Muse bass players for a father and excessive purchasing of Christmas chocolates. It's not all rock n' roll after all...I guarantee, if you were to probe a bit further the inhabitants of this small coastal town, you'll find some have their own tales of Muse related incidents. For instance, my old hairdresser apparently used to play with Matt Bellamy when they were younger. But not in a dirty way...

Band Feature: Galaxie 500

Author: Al McKenzie

Galaxie 500 formed in 1987 at Harvard College, when New Zealand-born Dean Wareham (vocals, guitars) and fellow undergrad Damon Krukowski (splendid drums) hooked up with Naomi Yang (their graphics advisor, then bassist). They named their band after a Ford car, and recorded their first single in early 1988 with Kramer at the production helm. 'Tugboat' demonstrates the band's distinctive sound right from the off. 'I don't wanna stay at your party/ I don't wanna talk to your friends,' wails Wareham, all fuggy petulance coated in layers of reverb; 'I don't wanna vote for your President/ I just wanna be your tugboat captain.' Hardly cutting edge stuff, but a graceful statement of intent nonetheless. The drums cascade as the guitar chimes a Shadowsy riff, while Yang's bass steadies this musical tugboat with its gentle murmur. In fact, if I had to choose an adjective to describe Galaxie 500's sound overall, 'gentle' would be the one I'd go for. I'm sure someone once described it (accurately) as 'shockingly gentle.' Try also 'wistful,' 'peaceful,' 'ethereal...' I'll try not to use any of them in this piece, but I can't promise...

1988's debut album 'Today' enforced the blueprint set down on 'Tugboat,' which also works poignantly as the closing track on the album. The typical Galaxie 500 song can best be defined as follows: high-pitched vocals, (usually Wareham's, sometimes Yang's), deeper backing vocals (Krukowski - often harmonic 60s style 'ums' and 'ahs'), three chords strummed delicately and slowly on electric guitar, drums doing much of the work (light as sea spray and almost jazzy, or pounding) and Naomi Yang never being afraid to play the high notes on her bass as melody rather than rhythm. The Hives it ain't - it sounded beautifully soporific and out of step even by most 1988 indie standards - but there usually comes that nice moment when Dean Wareham cranks up the guitar and splits the whole thing open with some distorted riffs. Most of the songs start as though no-one's told him it's not an acoustic guitar and he's actually got it plugged in, and then, as the song builds to a crescendo of sorts, as if he's suddenly realised it's cranked up to 11 and he's going for gold. There's also a distinct Velvets' feel; compare and contrast the lovely opener, 'Flowers,' with the VU's more melodic, poppy moments (Galaxie 500 later recorded 'White Light/White Heat' song 'Here She Comes Now' as a B-side). Perhaps the most striking song on 'Today' is one that breaks the Galaxie 500 mould, their cover of Jonathan Richman's 'Don't Let Our Youth Go To Waste.' The stomping bass drums and the frenzied, fuzzy guitars fuse together insistently with the plaintive vocals to make this an intensely emotional listen: 'I could show you memories to rival Berlin in the 30s...And I could bleed/In sympathy with you.' Brutal, deranged, and very moving stuff, and the first Galaxie 500 track I ever heard, thanks to the great Peel (again). The band were soon winning admirers in the US and Europe, earning ringing endorsements from the likes of Thurston Moore. Meanwhile, across the way, another guitar band from Boston were making bigger waves with their much louder sonic assaults; led by Black Francis, they would become a seminal influence on rawk music while the Galaxies would remain less well known, but that's another story...

1989's follow up album 'On Fire' cemented the style laid down by its predecessor (and crucially, in a lovely orange cover, too). 'Decomposing Trees' is one of the band's key songs, with its 'Stairway to Heaven' like chord change and typically surreal, acid-flashed lyric: 'My toes can talk/And they're smiling at me/ Come down, they say/Not afraid any more.' Musically, the song evinces the same world weariness as Joy Division's 'Decades,' and the Galaxies would later cover that band's 'Ceremony.' Even better, they manage to flesh out their sound on this album; Wareham puts his guitar effects pedals to good use, and 'Trees' features the 'Baker Street'-style fiery sax playing of Ralph Carney. They spoil us with the following track; Naomi Yang takes the lead vocal on 'Another Day', an impossibly sad and beautiful song. Imagine Blur's 'This Is A Low' played by the Jesus and Mary Chain with Yoko Ono on vocals, and you're halfway there. I don't know about you, but I have to like a record which has the lyric 'I bought all the drinks/And I paid for your friends/Jesus can't you see?/I'm goin' round the bend.' ('Tell Me'), while 'When Will You Come Home?' namechecks Kojak. I saw them play live in Newcastle on the tail end of this album, and it was one of the top 3 gigs I've ever been to. For a three-piece, they managed to produce a fuller sound than most, probably because they used reverb better than anyone else to create density. It was as hypnotic an experience witnessing them live as it is listening to them on record.

Sadly, the story ended after 1990's 'This Is Our Music', ironically their sunniest offering yet. 'Fourth of July' was NME single of the week, if I remember rightly, with its half-spoken, half-sung witty lyrics about not belonging and things not going according to plan. How many bands would dare to start a song with the line 'I wrote a poem on a dog biscuit/And your dog refused to look at it?' They obviously love their TV shows and movies: 'Spook' was originally entitled 'Spock', explaining the weird line about having 'another eyelid', while the gorgeous 'Summertime' appears to reference David Lynch's 'Wild At Heart' ('Going to the movies/I found a shelter from the sun/Caught a gruesome story/About a couple on the run.'). They take us full circle by closing the album with the mysterious 'King of Spain', (an earlier version of which was their debut B-side to 'Tugboat,') and then it's all over. Dean still plays with Luna, (who played a song on John McEnroe's US TV chat show just the other week, trivia fans), played guitar on Mercury Rev's 'Car Wash Hair,' and performed a rendition of 'Sweet Child of Mine' at the funeral of his friend Robert W. Bingham, author of 'Pure Slaughter Value.' Damon and Naomi still record as Damon and Naomi. Would it be too much to hope for a reunion? Personally, it's hard to listen to 'Today' and 'On Fire' without reminiscing back to my first term at uni, when their floating, spaced out sounds acted as balm for the soul in many an 'incense' moment. Just the other day, I bought a CD copy of 'On Fire,' and it's the first album I've ever owned on both vinyl and CD simultaneously. Fantastically barmy sleeve notes by Kramer, too. I was going to print them out in full, but I'd rather you got your own copy. I digress...

Although never frequently-name checked, Galaxie 500 have influenced some contemporary groups. British Sea Power covered 'Tugboat' for a Rough Trade compilation, and you can hear echoes of their somnolent splendor in Mogwai and Low. Many of my peers deride them for being cheap Velvet Underground copyists who can't play songs with more than 3 chords, but they've missed the point: Galaxie 500 did what every band should set out to do - play together to work out the sound that suited them best - and they made it sound effortless and natural. And whereas the Velvets favoured drone as a form of attack, Galaxie 500 preferred to lull you; the Velvets are altogether darker and scabbier, while Galaxie's sound is stately and full of spaces and light.

Not an important band in the history of music, then, nor an especially original one, but certainly a crucial band in the hearts of many listeners, including mine (did I mention the nice orange cover?). If you've never heard them, then firstly, where have you been? And secondly, 'The Portable Galaxie 500' might be a good place to start. Or 'On Fire.' In fact, the whole damn lot. As those daft sleeve notes say: 'Come ride the fiery breeze of Galaxie 500!'

Album Review: Belle And Sebastian - Dear Catastrophy Waitress

Author: Aurelia Wilson

1.Step Into My Office, Baby - Oooooh that beginning riff gets in you and you think 'Oh I'm gonna love this!' and you will! It's about sleeping 'with the boss's baby'. Not like any of us have done that? There's irony in it somehow. Rockstars working at offices and crushing on the boss's baby. So you like it eh? Well, do it again!

2. Dear Catastrophe Waitress - Starts off quite slow, like you are expecting an acoustic track but wait another few seconds; Dear Catastrophe Waitress is a random saying, nothing you'd hear everyday. It's a blend of drums and guitars and everything works.

3. If She Wants Me - This one is a dreamy catchy one. The little lick is so splendid and the lyrics are simply dandy. Stuart does some awesome vocals which add to the whole effect. The chorus gets in you and doesn't leave.

4. Piazza, New York Catcher - No doubt it is acoustic you aren't getting tricked like in Dear Catastrophe Waitress. It's telling a story about how their life and Piazza the New York catcher compares.

5. Asleep on a Sunbeam - So I'm nearly in the middle of the album and Oh My Gosh, it's a girl singing!! That was unpredicted. Sarah sings the song with help from Stuart. This is such a dandy song and it puts you in a happy mood. Everything feels light and airy kinda like summer. What's better than sleeping and summer? My joy is complete...

6. I'm A Cuckoo - Easily one of my favorites and easily cool. Funny lyrics and the whole instruments come together to make a light, airy peachy atmosphere for the song. It's a feeling I get like I'm flying on a sunny day. That's saying something.

7. You Don't Send Me - I have a weak spot for the use of trumpets in rock music. It gives the music a Soulful flavor (flavor is a word I don't use often). The versus including all the instruments and all sorts of vocals. I was so afraid the chorus would break up because it's drums and only drums but it keeps going and it finishes well.

8. Wrapped Up in Books - Normally I'd think the drums is what makes the song flow but the bass is what keeps it up. Again being normal I skip it; it's a great song don't get me wrong!!! It'll grow on you and give it time and it'll be golden. Bottom half though.

9. Lord Anthony - The beginning has a whimsical feeling. It's a fairy tale!! No, it's not but it's a quiet song but it builds up. Anthony is that kid who was always picked on and how he overcomes it all.

10. If You Find Yourself Caught In Love - The beginning is misleading; it's not a piano song. It's rather funny actually. It picks up about a minute in the song. Looking for love is so difficult; just as difficult as falling in love. The tune is so attractive! I rather enjoy the tempo leading up to the chorus.

11. Roy Walker - Oh this sounds like something you'd hear in the fifties; very retro but once the vocals start it gets updated. Music stops and it's snapping which is very circa 1950 music. You'll get immersed in the tempo and noises. Sounds during the vocal part; they aren't made by instruments but it's mash-up of all these noises; don't be afraid if you find yourself snapping along to it.

12. Stay Loose - I'm a sucker for Napoleon Dynamite and this sounds like Napoleon music. It's like an 80s techno meets indie jazzesque. Unique in fact.

Album Review: LCD Soundsystem - LCD Soundsystem

Author: Matti Gregory

It's always been cool to arrive at the party late, so it should come as no surprise that NYC's premiere detached scenester of 2002, James Murphy, should finally bring out his debut LCD Soundsystem album three years late. Which is in some ways a shame, because if we'd got this back when Converse was compulsory and short hair a sin then it would have been, like, the best thing ever, man. But now that rock is being reclaimed by the geeks, and Bloc Party and Franz Ferdinand are the hipster's choice, we get the opportunity to listen to 'LCD Soundsystem' objectively. And even taken out of its proper time and place, what a belter it is.

Effortlessly mixing the supposedly deceased genre of dance and cool-as-fuck indie, it's like the nights out at Trash you always read about (but never actually went to) brought to life in two handy compact discs. Disc One is the debut album proper, nine tracks of beats, fuzzed bass, manic yelping and, yes, those cowbells that made House Of Jealous Lovers the official floor-filler for indie discos everywhere. The brilliant rock-kid baiting 'Daft Punk Is Playing At My House' is the perfect start, with a rhythm that would get arthritic octogenarians dancing madly, and although 'Too Much Love' is a little too formulaic to really get the pulse racing, everything else here follows on in a manner purpose-built to give you the best rave you can ever have on your own. 'Movement' switches from staccato drum machines to full-on punk-funk freak out, 'Tribulations' is a bass monster coated with sugar-sweet synth, and 'Disco Infiltrator' manages to be so brilliant it can get away with having the phrase 'fo' sho' in the lyrics (that's 'fore sure', for those not up to date with your cod-MCisms), although this being James Murphy it's probably ironic. It all ends on the serene bliss-out of 'Great Release', one of the most dreamy dance tracks ever committed to CD.

Disc Two will be more familiar to most people, as it's a compilation of all the singles that made LCD Soundsystem a 'name' in the first place. The brilliantly witty 'Losing My Edge' is here, as is 'Beat Connection' and both mixes of 'Yeah', but unless you've had your head under a pillow since the end of 2001, no description is necessary here. Some magazines have described Murphy as the man who will save dance. If he does, this isn't the album that will. But it will bring members of the lager generation who haven't got over the superclub explosion yet and the indie kids who still haven't got over The Strokes yet together, and maybe even give them a sense of purpose again. And for that James, we thank you.

Live Review: The Tears at The Zodiac in Oxford - 14th December 2004

Author: Silke

I remember reading an article quite a few years back which argued that rock's best partnerships always end in tears. From what I remember the article argued that the songwriting partnerships of the likes of Lennon and McCartney, Morrissey and Marr, Butler and Anderson, Townshend and Daltrey had all hit turbulent times at the height of their creativity, but that at the same time many of music's greatest songs had been penned within bitter rivalries.

At the time I agreed and now I can't help but smile at the statement that rock's best partnership always end "in tears", as Brett Anderson and Bernard Butler (the duo who co-founded Suede) have found a way back together and have formed The Tears.

When Bernard Butler quit Suede during the making of 'Dog Man Star' I was gutted. The album itself turned out to be my favourite album of all times for a long time to come, but things were never quite the same for me. As a big Suede fan I of course continued to be interested in their new material. But none of it really touched me the way their self-titled debut album and 'Dog Man Star' did. It was as if that volatile relationshop between Brett Anderson and Bernard Butler made the magic of Suede for me and when their working partnership ended the sparkle faded.

Needless to say when I heard that Brett and Bernard were reforming as the Tears I just couldn't believe it. It was as if time was turning back to the days of the ultimate Suede. It was just like a dream.

I actually thought I had missed out on tickets to their debut gig, thinking it was their London Heaven gig which was sold out before I was even near a computer. But then it was announced that they were actually going to play another gig (the true debut) in Oxford and I was glued to the computer screen and had my credit card at the ready. I managed to get tickets and couldn't believe my luck. The tickets never went on general sale and the venue (the cosy Zodiac) was small and intimate, so this felt like one of the most special gigs ever... and I was going to be part of it.

Arriving at the venue I kept thinking: 'This can't be real'. Even when I felt my heart skip a beat as Bernard and Brett walked on stage after the rest of their new band, I still had to pinch myself... to check it was actually happening: I was seeing Bernard and Brett reunited. During the gig I behaved like a giddy child. I was jumping up and down and screaming (until I lost my voice) and was completely in awe of what I was witnessing, a new band that I felt like I instantly knew really well. With no single or album released, their set was made up entirely of new songs and despite the fact that I was experiencing a brand new sound I sensed so much familiarity.

The opener was 'Brave New Century' and it rocked with wicked guitar riffs and vocal harmonies. After this amazing start to the gig Brett modestly asked the crowd whether it was alright. When the crowd cheered like crazy Brett grinned like a Cheshire cat at the reception (and continued to do so the whole gig – maybe he couldn't believe what was happening either!). The gig continued with the catchy 'Refugees' which had guitar riffs that reminded me a little bit of Bernard's solo song 'Not Alone'.

I loved '2 Creatures' which felt a bit like the old 'Dog Man Star' material especially lyrically as it is about two people in love running away together. But my favourites of the night were probably Apollo 13' (a song that Brett announced as being "about a doomed relationship" and which had a great chorus and certainly great comeback single potential), 'Autograph' (which kind of sounded a bit like the Smiths and had a beautiful melody) and 'Imperfection' (which was the probably best example of Bernard new role of doing backing vocals). I wasn't all that keen on 'Beautiful Pain', maybe because it felt too 'A New Morning'-esque, but I was quite taken in by 'Fallen Idol' which Brett introduced by saying it was about Pete Townsend. In the middle of the song Brett got out a recorder-piano-thing which made me laugh so much.

One thing that was quite disconcerting though was the fact that Brett continually gesticulated at the sound guy to adjust his vocals, but I guess he was just keen to make sure the sound was just right.

The encore was the beautiful 'A Love As Strong as Death' and it felt like Brett and Bernard were trying to keep in tradition with their habit of ending their albums on a piano ballad (like 'Still Life' and 'The Next Life').

At the end of the gig Brett announced: "These are the only songs we've got, so we can't play any more really" and I was upset to see them leave as they had delivered a truly shining performance which made me so excited about hearing their new material. In 'Co-Star' Brett sang: "When we're together my co-star and me, the stars come out to shine". Let's hope that these co-stars don't give up on working together so that we can continue to see that sparkle.

Admittedly I have been a little bit worried about them splitting up again, especially as during the gig the two of them barely exchanged a single glance. But maybe they've just realised that some musicians are born to work together and that they don't need to be the best of friends to keep up a brilliant creative partnership. Let's hope so.

The set list:

Brave New Century
Refugees
Imperfection
2 Creatures
Autograph
Co-Star
Fallen Idol
Feels Like Monday
Beautiful Pain
Apollo 13
Lovers
A Love As Strong As Death

Classic Albums: Tori Amos - Little Earthquakes

Author: Richard Cosgrove

Back in 1992, the music world was being overrun by grunge, with Pearl Jam and Nirvana spearheading the Seattle radio invasion, and Madonna was showing us what she had for lunch via her, erm, artistic book subtly called 'Sex'. Boyz II Men were crooning about the "End Of The Road" and Whitney Houston was murdering Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You" and trying to convince us she could act. Who would have thought, then, that from seemingly out of nowhere a fiesty redhead armed with nothing more than a piano and a suitcase full of angst would sweep some of us off our feet and make us fall completely in love with her debut album. (The Tori fans among you will be about to mention Y Kant Tori Read at this point, but in your heart you know that wasn't a true representation of what Myra Ellen Amos was, and is, all about.)

I count myself luckily enough to have accidentally stumbled across Tori Amos just as Little Earthquakes came out, thanks to, of all people, the old Hairy Cornflake himself, Dave Lee Travis who had been sent a promo copy of Winter which he promply fell in love with and played on his show. I distinctly remember hearing it and sitting bolt upright (it was a Sunday morning, following a heavy Saturday night, but all that was forgotten once the hypnotic melody began bleeding from the speakers), thinking "who is this?" and "this is beautiful".

I took myself off to my favourite record shop at the earliest opportunity (Selectadisc in Nottingham, as it happens) and snapped up the album. I rushed home and stuck the CD into my relatively new CD player, which had recently surped my turntable and sounded the death knell for my vinyl collection, and lay back on my bed to listen. From the opening line of 'Crucify' I was hooked - as an insecure teenager, Tori's first line, "every finger in the room is pointing at me", was a line that I could immediately identify with. While confident and outgoing to the rest of the world, I had always fought against an inherent shyness and this one line encompassed the paranoia that I had felt as a teenager. As Tori put it, "nothing I do is good enough for you". Crucify was a hymn to the disenfranchised of the world, to those who had never quite felt they were good enough, all placed on top of a simultaneously fragile and confident piano refrain.

'Girl' follows, its' haunting piano underpinned by some quite breathtaking yet subtle guitar work from Steve Caton (who actually joined Tori live from Boys For Pele onwards), acting as a springboard for a tale of submission and compromise in which we learn "she's been everybody else's girl, maybe someday she'll be her own". Another tale of insecurity in which the subject of the song desperately tries to fit in at the expense of her own identity. Another tune that spoke to my teenage insecurities. Though Tori was a fair way from being a teenager at this point, these songs were obviously sourced from her experiences of youth and the crushing insecurities and disappointments that it brings.

Next up is 'Silent All These Years', the breakthrough track in the UK. A gentle piano refrain underpinned with a subtle strings arrangement, this is a bitter song about a relationship breakup. "So you've found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts" is deftly followed up with "boy, you'd best hope that I bleed real soon". Nasty, very nasty, but then again, you can't deny her rage - Hell hath no fury and all that.

'Precious Things' is next, conjouring up images of playground vendettas and Catholic school angst - "so you can make me come, doesn't make you Jesus". It's a sorry tale of isolation and rejection, neatly summed up in the line "no-one told me, where the pretty girls are". Marginalised, isolated and alone, the teller of this particualr story is not a happy bunny, and not someone you'd want to meet in a dark alleyway.

In complete contrast, the aforementioned 'Winter' is a beautiful, haunting lullaby to the innocence of youth, a child's love song to their father. More than this, though, it's the realisation that we all have to someday break away from the security of our parents - "you must learn to stand up for yourself, 'cause I can't always be around". It's a reflective look back at the advice given many years previously but unheeded until now, as is often the case - "things change, my dear" is not only a sound piece of advice, but also a warning to be ready for life's rollercoaster of highs and lows. The coda of the song, though, "never change", implores our heroine to retain the qualities that make her who she is. In just shy of six minutes, Tori Amos manages to impart more wisdom that you could hope to be privy to in a lifetime. Listen and learn.

'Happy Phantom' brings some light relief, with a jaunty piano refrain accompanied by a smattering of percussion and slide guitar. Tori wonders "will I pay for who I've been", but this is a happy song, extolling the virtues of becoming a phantom and "chasing nuns out in the yard".

If 'Winter' was a tale of caution, 'China' is a tale of regret. This is a tale of two people separated by a great distance, and not necessarily a geographical one. This is that old familiar tale of being with someone who isn't really there. They may be there physically, but their mind is elsewhere, and may as well be in China. This song is the sad realisation that a relationship is drifting away. On the musical front, there is a beautiful and urgent vocal delivery that occurs three minutes into the song that is nothing short of breathtaking.

Leather' is a plea to be accepted, desperately searching for reasons why her paramour isn't interested in what she has to offer. "Look I'm standing naked before you", Tori informs us, before asking "oh God, why am I here?" and asking him to hand over her leather. A tale of opening up to the wrong person that we're all familiar with.

'Mother' is Tori's love letter to nervous first dates and prom nights. Hoping that the date will be wonderful but fearful that it will all up horribly, she sets off with butterflies in her stomach. "He's going to change my name", she hopes, but isn't quite sure and sets of with some trepidation. If this is all beginning to sound like a Cameron Crowe movie, then you're in the right ballpark. Little Earthquakes is all about awkward relationships and self-doubt and works wonderfully for it.

'Tear In Your Hand' is the other side of the fairy tale. "So you don't want to stay together anymore", we're told. Tori tells us that her ex's new love is just "pieces of me that you've never seen", echoing the confusion and bewilderment that accompanies being dumped by the love of your life. I could be everything she is, maybe, but then again, maybe it's time to wave goodbye."

Rarely can a pure acapella be so captivating as 'Me And A Gun', Tori's frank and emotional recollection of her real life rape. As she recounts her thoughts, you can't help but think what a dehumanising experience this must have been. I, thankfully, have no point of reference for this song, either from a personal or vicarious point of view, but I defy you to listen to this track and not come away in a seriously reflective state of mind.

The starkness of 'Me And A Gun' leads us into the title track, a haunting, mesmerising epic which is a metaphor for being on the outside, for being marginalised, for being torn apart by forces outside of our safe little lives. The force of these little earthquakes, Tori tells us against the rhythmic heartbeat of the drums, "doesn't take much to rip us into pieces." The song, and the album, pleads with us to "give me life, give me pain, give me myself again", and provides some emotional release for the journey that we've been on.

Little Earthquakes is possibly the most honest and moving album of the early 90s, perfect for a generation that was feeling increasingly isolated, and who was to soon lose one of its' heroes, Kurt Cobain, whose Smells Like Teen Spirit Tori regularly covered in her live sets. Not an instantly accessible album, but one that if you give it some time will work it's way under your skin and stay there, and you'll be eternally glad that it did.

Music Feature: Music Media - How Music Is Obtained by Aurliea Wilson

Author: Aurliea Wilson

Remember way back when, the good old 8 track was the thing? It's ok neither do I. I wasn't around. Well, my parents have persuaded my musical taste and they aren't supportive of my new indie obsession. Anyways, there was 8-tracks, tape players, record players and more recently the portable CD player and even more recent the MP3 player, made popular by Apple's iPod.

Using my retro CD player to listen to the songs of many indie rock bands, I've learned to love my CD player, CD's and music much more respectively with the occasional 'oops, I dropped it on the floor again' mishaps. Compact Discs bring much more to the listener than MP3 players do. They bring album art, materialistic being of the songs and the presence of going to the music store to buy them. The downfalls of owning CDs, costly, space taking, CD player breaks and the worst one of all what do you do when the CD is scratched? Some can clean it while others cannot. It all evens out does it not?

The craze for Apple iPods is so...crazy, putting it simply. My major concern is 200 bucks for about 8000 songs I won't use. The are expensive and hold too much and don't serve the purpose they were made for, at least in my experience with those who do own the item. The iPod has become a status symbol. The question is "You have an iPod?" and not "What’s on your iPod?" A lot can be said about the person by their music. The new mini's are ripoffs. Less amount of songs for a more sum of money. What gives?

Many other MP3 players serve just as well as a purpose and yet are cheaper and stylish J the upsides are: all sorts of songs in your palm or pocket, more songs in less space, more portable, no cases to hold CDs. Tempting eh? It is many people have thought of purchasing these players. Mind you, most of these people don't own CD players. Again it's a status symbol that's not going to serve its rightful purpose.

I still love my CD player and will probably use it a lot more than my MP3 player yet, I still like to put it in my pocket and dance around with Franz Ferdinand playing.

Live Review: The Hidden Cameras at K4, Nürnberg - 12th December 2004

Author: Eve Massacre

I had been listening to The Hidden Cameras' 'Mississauga Goddamn' album on repeat for the last couple of weeks. I love their 60s pop for the melancholic undertone in all their joyfulness, and of course for their lyrics - who else has ever written so poetically about gay sex and piss games? The seeming plainness and honesty of lines about secret fears (like "hunting hair to find emotional grace / I am scared you'll see my body and know that removing hair has taken over my life") combined with the easy approachable sing-along folk they play makes them irresistible.

I had read about their live shows with costumes and dancers and my expectations were a bit too high: there wasn't as much interaction with the audience as I wished for but it was pure enthusiastic 60s pop fun with simple infectious melodies spiced up by cello, violins, glockenspiel and tambourines, and they are really cute to watch: they have the coolest drummer in ages (10 out of 10 points for posing, lady!), the bald violin player hopped up and down grinning from one ear to another, the only rather static person in the band was the leader: Joel Gibb just stood there in front of them, sang and looked good and was serious while behind him the rest of the band had lots of fun. The 'show' parts with the whole band playing dead or all of them playing one song with eyes covered by a red cloth, well, those parts were a bit restrained but nice nevertheless. Not that I don't like what Joel Gibb is doing - especially as his voice and lyrics are The Hidden Cameras - but I caught myself wondering about what this band could do if it wasn't just one guy writing all the songs but as a real collective throwing their ideas together.

Album Review: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Self Titled

Author: Aurliea Wilson

Peter Hayes: guitar/bass/keys/harmonica/vocals
Robert Turner: bass/guitar/keys/vocals
Nick Jago: drums/percussion

I give props to anyone who can play guitar and bass - not necessarily at the same time. I'm quite intrigued by that now. The three people who make up BRMC produced an indie rock album in 2001, the dawn of the new rock era.

1. Love Burns: Opens in a bar setting; the acoustic guitars are awesome.

2. Red Eyes and Tears: Cool riff and bass line. The vocals are haunting.

3. Whatever Happened to Our Rock and Roll [punk song]: My favorite off the whole album because its upbeat and some find it 'hardcore'.

4. Awake: it's a physcedelic mix of rock and other indie subgroups. I like the way the refrain is a different tempo than the verses.

5. White Palms: I like how the guitar makes a noise than seems like a drum would make creating a tempo and setting the beat. It sounds like a dark song.

6. As Sure As The Sun: I think this is a cool song title. The bass is highlited in the song yet the guitar kicks in at the right moments.

7. Rifles: The light tapping on the cymbals makes this song eerie. Although contrary to the verses the refrain is lightened up.

8. Too Real: Kind of folk and rock mix of instruments and vocals. In a word: calming

9. Spread Your Love: The bass has a cool lick played throughout the song. Spread Your Love Like A Fever.

10. Head Up High: I can't any other vocals except'Keep Your Head Up High' probably the only thing that needs to be said. A ballad of BRMC.

11. Salvation: The beginning is rather odd but it's a light note, a good note to end an album on.

Basically, ecceletic mix of all sorts of genres are complied into one album. From Pop Rock to Metal Everyone has something to love in this album.

Live Review: Yeah Yeah Yeahs at London Brixton Academy - 15th November 2004

Author: Becky

The audience waited to catch a glimpse of the punk-fuelled Kazza 0 herself, during both the support acts (which were both pretty damn good), hoping to see a flash of aluminous pink, or a sighting of ripped fishnets. But, no, there was nothing, until...

The lady herself walked on, in a two-piece tweed suit! Miss O was followed then by Nick Zinner and Brian Chase, who were both going for the gothic look, all dressed in black, with heavy black make-up (well that was Nick anyway). The music starts, the drums kick in, and the guitar is officallly loving it, as Karen O starts to strip, removing the layers of tight conservative tweed to reveal, the kind of costume which would have blended in well in Wacko Jacko's 'Thriller' video. It's a skeleton body suit, with ribbons and tassles hanging off in all directions. She stomps around in her gem covered converse, pulling up her hood, hiding her paint streaked make-up. Even dressed as a grubby skeleton, she oozes sex appeal.

The tunes are played, the audience have a fantastic 'Date With The Night', while 'Pin' gets the whole crowd toe-tapping to the max, so that you feel like snogging the guy next to you with the 'I Love Karen O' T-shirt on. 'Maps' reveals a vulnerable side to the woman of madness, and the new tracks seem... interesting. We all want more, and as the crowd at the front get drenched with water from the security guards, they give us more.

The Karen O look-a-likes copy the orgasmic sounds, and the guys dribble with love for Miss O. It's a night to remember, a definate date with the night I'll never forget!

Live Review: The Futureheads at London ULU - 09th December 2004

Author: Silke

The Futureheads are a quartet from Sunderland and consist of Barry Hyde, the band's frontman, and his bandmates Ross Millard, Jaff and Barry's younger brother, Dave. At their gig at ULU the four look like bookish and wholesome boys, dressed in a way that future mothers-in-laws would approve of: with ironed shirts buttoned up to the Adam's apple and tucked nicely into their trousers. The drummer even sports a tie and has a great posture - as my mother would've noticed - despite his furious drumming.

Altogether on first glance (if you didn't know who they were) you would expect to hear dull-as-dishwater prosaic ballads á la Coldplay and Keane. But The Futureheads are actually the perfect antidote to those bland and vapid bands, as they play XTC and The Gang of Four inspired punky and funky guitar-pop which also has edgy rhythms reminiscent of such greats as The Kinks and The Jam.

If you like The Futureheads' self-titled debut album you are absolutely going to love this band live. The jerkiness and giddiness of the album comes through even more in their passionate and quite funny live performance.

Essentially the gig at ULU was a manic romp through their bouncy album, with each song being short but fervent and fun flurries which all just seemed to end too soon. The quartet went from one highlight to the next, from the frenzied staccato rhythms of 'Le Garage', the buzzy 'A to B', to "He Knows" with its unruly beats and chorus of "oh-ohs" and the delicate melodies and harmony of "Decent Days and Nights". The fact that Barry doesn't try to tone down his Sunderland accent, his inimitable dancing (or shall I say convulsive moving of legs) and in-between-songs banter - such as when he announced they were not going to play "Hounds of Love" but instead East 17's "House of Love" and then launching into a 10 second rendition of it - make this band stand out as a must-see live band.

My favourite songs of the night were the two cover songs. Kate Bush's 'Hounds of Love' with its wonderful four-part harmonies, punchy guitar riffs and fun and the furious howls of "oh ohs" and the Paul Welleresque performance of "A Picture of Dorian Gray" (originally by London new wavers Television Personalities) were definite highlights of the show.

Once the encore of "Carnival Kids" and "Piece of Crap" (which Barry announced by saying that if they were playing to a rubbish crowd he would dedicate it to them) finished, I just wanted them to start all over again. Altogether this band can't be hyped enough. So here I go: These wholesome young Northern lads rock my world and I'm sure my mother would approve of them too..

Album Review: Stars - Set Yourself On Fire

Author: Andrew Sykes

Stars are yet another band to come out of the eclectic Canadian collective that spawned KC Accidental, Broken Social Scene and Metric, the basic premise being that loads of art-school musicians (Do Say Make Think members, for example) get together in random little groups and make deliberately different music from their 'home' bands. When these beard-stroking, arch post-rock kids go pop, the results are astonishing.

Stars is based around the "he said, she said" vocal interplay of the fantastically named Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan. You can consider them the most pop end of the collective; there's precious little in the way of wigouts, krautrock clicks or any of that crap. They aim to take over the genre founded by later Pavement and Stephen Malkmus - the wry, witty pop song, mixing experimentation with clever lyrics and hook-laden choruses.

Opener Your Ex-Lover Is Dead is a tounge-in-cheek, heart-in-mouth description of the end of a relationship, set against horns and Death Cab-esque guitar lines. The whole thing has a vague resemblance to Fairy Tale Of New York; it catalogues love gone sour in the same offbeat way. In fact, the whole record is about relationships being destroyed, falling apart, or reminisced over. Check out The Big Fight; gentle Rhodes piano and a slow, gentle jazz feel allow Torquil and Amy's call-and-response vocals about the mundane facts of a breakup room to breathe: "There are bills here for you / that's cos nothing is free."

Ageless Beauty is a wall of guitar noise, reminiscent of Broken Social Scene's Almost Crimes, which progresses slowly and predictably, Amy's soft, Belinda Butcher vocals floating ethereally over the top, before a surprising, offbeat flurry of hypermelodic guitar noise signals the huge chorus to come crashing in while she joyfully proclaims "We will always be alive!" My Bloody Valentine homage it may be, but it's a damn good one.

What I'm Trying To Say comes across like the Postal Service aping Superchunk; bleepy keyboards and syncopated basslines track a bittersweet tale of love and heavy drug use with yet another killer chorus: "I am trying to say / what I'm trying to say / without having to say / I love you". Cheesy is never far away when you're trying to chronicle romantic entanglements, but the clever wit and dead-on observations will make you laugh (or cry) it off. Special mention must go to The First Five Times for being the best song ever about the first five times you have sex with someone - it's achingly true, heartrendingly funny and just plain genius. A bouncy acoustic riff drives Torquil through his reminiscing, before a buzzing bassline and heavy drums take us to a much darker place: "And every day / it's changed since then", sing Amy and Torquil together, in gloriously sad harmonies.

I could talk for hours about how great this album is. Every song is a small slice of pop perfection in its own right; witness swelling horns and soft organs on Sleep Tonight, driving, bouncy basslines and eighties synths on the hopelessly upbeat paen to love Set Yourself On Fire, or the rush of Pavement guitars that precedes an ode to longlost schooldays and Friend's Reunited-style meetings, Reunion. "I had six too many drinks last night, yes / and that's why I made you stay" sings Torquil, like it's the most romantic sentiment ever.

You need to hear this record. Seriously. It's moving, at turns both funny and bleak, and it's full of more great melodies and clever lyrics than most bands manage in an entire career. You owe it to your ears, your heart, and that little gooey bit in the centre of your brain that loves great pop music.

Album Review: Amusement Parks On Fire - Self Titled

Author: Andrew Sykes

Hailing from that well-known hotbed of musical experimentation that is, uhm, Nottingham, and featuring ex-members of Wolves (Of Greece) and Punish The Atom, Amusement Parks On Fire have been labelled by that bastion of taste (yes, that's sarcasm) the NME as "new-gaze". Don't let memories of shaggy-haired white boys with too many FX pedals and no tunes put you off; APOF are a much more immediate project.

So, what do they actually sound like? Well, a lazy touchstone would be Kevin Shield's masterpiece Loveless, the same sea of churning guitars and muted drums rears its head here. Where the aforementioned classic was dreamy, ethereal and downright stoned, APOF moderate their wall of fuzzy guitar noise with some seriously huge riffs that cast your mind back to Siamese Dream-era Smashing Pumpkins.

The opener, 23 Jewels, is a soundscape of warm organ and feedback, violins twitching mournfully from speaker to speaker; as the track comes to a close, a wall of feedback suddenly segues into pounding, off-kilter drums as the boys unleash their guitar storm in the form of Venus In Cancer. If you listen carefully, it sounds like there's roughly ten guitars all screaming away at one monumental riff, while Mick Feerick yells "I haven't got time to ask / what you're here for!".

As Venus In Cancer dissolves into static and fractured noise, Eighty Eight's stop-start guitars stab out; a quick breath, and the track opens up the throttle. There's precious little in the way of silence on this record - like their live show, the boys obviously see any time where they're not playing as wasted.

The most hyperbolic of my ramblings have been retained for trying to describe the speaker-destroying, fist-pumping should-be anthem that is Venosa. Four minutes of pop genius filtered through impossibly huge sounding guitars, its FX riot doesn't let up for a second. The brief breakdown lures you into a false sense of security, as the boys draw guitar squiggles before the whipcrack of Mike's guitar pulls the chorus back in and spits you out, a huge smile on your face. Yes, it's that good.

The epic, eight minute Wiper showcases APOF's ability to manipulate a build-up; they seem to know the exact point at which they should step on those stompboxes and head straight for the centre of the sun. The Ramones Book is a pretty, piano led reminiscence which seems almost out of place, surrounded by hook-laden guitar anthems. That's not say it's a misstep. Its blissed-out vocals and utterly surrounding soundscape serve as a brief moment of respite before the destructive noise experiment that is Local Boy Makes God that closes the album.

For a debut, this record is astounding. APOF have a sound that's mature and yet ripe for exploitation - if they can produce something as fantastic as Venosa on their first outing, just imagine what they can do in the future. Let's do our bit and make sure, for once, a great new British band isn't criminally ignored.

Music Feature: "Spice Vs Sugar " - Chris Laing vs Karl Coppack

Author: Dollyrocker

In reaction to my good friend Karl Coppack's recent evaluation of the talents of Paul McCartney vs John Lennon (you see what I did there?), I thought I would add my 2ps worth. Before I kick off this article though, I would just like to state that this article is IN NO WAY trying to argue with Karls, erm, taste? It's just that I felt the record needed setting straight, and being in a priviliged position (your humble host), I have instantly beaten Karl down by adding a picture onto MY article, so ner! You see, the great thing about bands like The Beatles is that they inspire so much emotion, and there is nothing more interesting (to me) than listening to somebody else rant on about them Beatles. Personally, my love affair with The Beatles began at a very early age.

When I was about 4 years old, my mum had got very scratched, but playable copies of 'A Hard Days Night' and 'Rubber Soul' and I was absolutely fascinated by both of them. I didn't rate 'Hard Days Night' so highly, although you can't argue with 'If I Fell', but 'Rubber Soul' was a winner. Played 'Drive My Car' out last night actually, went down a treat. Even 'Rubber Soul' has it's duff tracks though, 'Girl' sounds dreadful to me, especially the sighs after each line of the chorus, cheesy as hell. Miserable too. 'What Goes On' is also bad, and 'Michelle' grates a bit, although it is kind of charming in it's own little way. Now the man truly responsible for getting me into The Beatles is my old man. Not that he did so by design you understand, it went like this; every Friday night he would pick me up from piano lessons at the sadly missed Medway School for Music (I was aged 11 by now) and the choice of tapes in the car on the way home (a half hour journey) was Kenny Rogers, Tammy Wynette, or 'The Beatles Ballads'. Now although 'Ballads' wasn't a great compilation, it did have some winners on; 'Hey Jude', 'The Fool On The Hill' and 'Let It Be'. (See what I did there?)

Now oddly enough, my dad actually phoned me halfway through me writing the second paragraph, and I mentioned the fact that I was writing a Beatles piece and he could take the credit for getting me into The Beatles, and I asked what his stance was on Lennon vs McCartney, and his response went like this; "I prefer McCartney I think, oh no hang on because although McCartney did go on to do more songs with Wings (I think he thinks Wings are still going!) Lennon did write 'Imagine' which was a huge hit". I can see my Dad's point, but nothing can divert from the fact that these words come from a man who wears 'I Love Greece' T-shirts and likes corned beef. Also, my Dad likes 'Help', the album. That aside, he did mention that when 'Help' was released, it was the first mainstream record that featured the duo taking it turns to sing 'behind' the main vocal part, which was kind of clever.

So, where are we going with this then? I think I will take a slightly different tactic to Karl, and basically count the stinkers on each LP from 'Pepper' onwards, and then the winner is the loser, if you follow. 85% of Beatles output pre-Pepper is pants anyway. (Sticks tongue out at Karl)

Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Right, lets think about the stinkers then, there aren't many on here, ooh hang on though, lets think about this. 'Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite' was one of John's, and is truly crap, although I like George Martin's work with the tape loops, at least I guess it was him. 'Within You Without You' was Harrison, and 'When I'm Sixty Four' was Pauls. I'm tempted to call 'Good Morning, Good Morning' a stinker as well, but I think that would be a little unfair, and I'll save that kind of behaviour for later.

Result: John 1, Paul 1

Magical Mystery Tour.

OK, McCartney really shouldn't have taken acid. Whereas someone like Syd Barrett was a transformed visionary a couple of tabs in, McCartney went off the rails totally, writing nonsense like 'Your Mother Should Know' and the dreadful 'Hello Goodbye' although the latter does have some nice vocal reverb. Ho hum.

Result: John 0, Paul 2.

The White Album.

Got this on the stereo now actually, 'Honey Pie' at the moment. Hmm. For dogs sake Paul, it's not looking good son. Stinkers left right and centre here, so lets go through them. 'Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da' being the first one. What an insult to reggae man! The next one, 'Wild Honey Pie' is bad, but I don't know who wrote it, I think it's McCartney though, so thats two stinkers to Paul so far. Maybe it was the beard. Ooh hang on, 'The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill' is VERY bad, and that was John. Sick, sick little puppy. The next stinkers are from George and Ringo respectively, and then Paul storms back in with 'Why Don't We Do It In The Road' which is possibly the crappiest Beatles track ever. 'Birthday' is bad, but not as bad as 'Yer Blues', 'Honey Pie' sees McCartney face to face with barking dogs (they were returning his call) and 'Helter Skelter' is just horrible. John however, doesn't do himselves any favours, ending the LP with 'Revolution 9' (a 7 minute collage of scary noises) and the yukky 'Good Night'. Scores, George Dawes.

Result: John 4, Paul 6.

Abbey Road.

This is gonna be quick, there are only a couple of stinkers from the duo on this LP, one of which is the cheesy 'Come Together' from John, and the others are 'Maxwells Silver Hammer' and 'Her Majesty', both of which expose McCartney quite frankly, as a bit of a knob.

Result: John 1, Paul 2.

Let It Be.

OK, not my fave LP of theirs but has lots of fairly nice tracks on, although there is a stinker from each, Paul invites us down 'The Long And Winding Road' (f*ck Let It Be...Naked), Spector saved a sinking ship, and 'Get Back' should have been a non LP B side.

And so we have it, lets tot up the scores, John 6, and Paul a shocking 11! The problem is you see, is that by this method of evaluation, we discover that when McCartney wants to be, he can be a right bloody knob. Lennon however manages to pull off writing the odd dud, because they are rarely REALLY dud, they are normally a bit tongue in cheek. Shame really, because I don't think that Lennon wrote very many TOTAL classics, not like 'Hey Jude' (can we be friends again now Karl?) or 'Let It Be' (oh, never mind then) or 'Martha My Dear' or (I'll get me coat)..

Music Feature: "Sugar Vs Spice" - John Lennon vs Paul McCartney by Karl Coppack

Author: Karl Coppack

Some years ago I saw a documentary about the greatest band in the world. Some women were assessing who their favourites were. Some claimed that Paul McCartney was their man as he's "seriously cute." Others pointed out that Lennon was much more lifelike thanks to his natural hard-edged cynicism. In general though they preferred the doe eyed minstrel to the bitter ball of anger. They didn't dislike John outright though. In fact, they argued that the two men were so opposite in character that it somehow added to the Beatles total ability. Beauty and suffering in musical terms. Abrasion and balm.

"Every time I see him leaving the room I think, "Mozart has just left the room."" Not my words. These are the words of Paul Gambucini. Me and Gambo don't agree on many things apart from Hey Jude being the single greatest song ever recorded and wholegrain mustard's easy superiority over its yellow brother and, I'm afraid to say, we don't agree here. Gambo often likes to bandy the word "genius" in his McCartney sentences. Sorry Paul but there have only been two geniuses and they are Shakespeare and Mozart. Sir James Paul McCartney does not make up a triumvirate. He's got God given talent but let's not go mad.

Aha! You've got my number! You're a John man, are you? Well, yes and well, no. You see, I disagree with woman above. I've never seen the Beatles thing as falling in between two camps. It doesn't work this way. Life doesn't. The lines are far too blurred for that. Look at the evidence. Soft and gentle McCartney is mainly responsible for Helter Skelter which out rocks Led Zep at their Roman orgiastic best while on the same album the singing like he's got salt in a gun wound Lennon recorded "Julia", the beautiful ballad Elliot Smith tried to re-write a hundred times. Well, okay, let's try to rate them against each other. This isn't the point of the Beatles - it was never a contest, but let us speculate. We can begin with their pre 1967 innings. Well quite.

You see, pre 1967 they worked as a team. Lennon and McCartney in its purest sense. Sitting opposite each other in hotel rooms, nipping off to write the middle eight of their mate's verse and chorus etc. Together they could knock out some gold. Do you really need me to provide you with evidence? Really? Fine. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury I give you "Ticket To Ride." Three perfect minutes of awesome ability. This is clearly John's song but it's nothing without Paul's percussive layering. You can't give that to Ringo (you can give him "Rain" though - his finest hour) as it was McCartney who orchestrated it and the song couldn't get along without it. Mind you, the winklepicker fits on the other foot too. "I'll Follow The Sun" is archetypal Paul, beautiful, unobtrusive and simple but John's sharing of the chorus gives it its balls. They got on then and Christ can't you tell. Who's winning so far?

Well, clearly we are. Actually before we go any further can I "out" our editor. Next time you're at a Buttoned Down night why not go up to the man with the long fringe who is giving you the best tunes in all of the metropolis' postal districts and ask him why he dislikes "Girl" and "Eleanor Rigby". Go on. It'll take his mind off requests for Wham and Lene Lovitch. For believe it or not, young Chris doesn't rate them. You wouldn't credit it, would you? He looks so intelligent too. Go and ask him. You won't want to though, will you? Perhaps you're like me and want to take pity on him and don't want to be a party to such Flat Earth thinking. I mean, just listen to the things, will you? If you really think that the rest of us are admiring the Emperor's new clothes then kindly leave me to myself. Go on. You're not wanted. I digress.

So Paul 1 John 1 before Pepper.

Now, obviously Pepper is overrated but it's the Beatles for Christ sakes. The Beatles! The two gladiators meet and shake hands on the awesome "She's Leaving Home" and again on "A Day In The Life" but Paul lets down his fan club with "Fixing A Hole", "When I'm Sixty Four" and "Lovely Rita." John fouls the footpath too but not quite so much. Incidentally, clawing back to that "two parts of a whole" argument I bored you with earlier McCartney insists that a good example lies in the lyrics of "Getting Better" strikes their typical chords. Allow me.

Paul: I have to admit it's getting better. A little better all the time.
John: It couldn't get much worse.

John takes a lead for Strawberry Fields Forever alone. Also, the dull "Hello Goodbye" (McCartney) had the superb "I Am The Walrus" (Lennon) on the flip side. Adequate proof that they really did start to lose their mental faculties after Brian's death. I'm calling the rest of Magical Mystery Tour a draw as for Paul's awful "Your Mother Should Know" is followed by his exquisite "Fool On The Hill." They both worked on "Flying" which is comfortably the most underrated Beatles song ever.

Paul 1 John 2. Three albums to play.

Let's fly forward to November 1968 - the month of my birth. The lads have been to India, been silly, found the meaning of life, played acoustic guitars with Donovan and abandoned their razors. Now they're back and recorded The White Album. Imagine going to a record shop and buying that album on the day it was released. Let's be fair, amongst the beauty there are some absolute howlers. "Martha My Dear," "Ob Bla Di" and "Honey Pie" for Paul, "Revolution 9," and "Good Night" for Johnny Boy. George throws in "Savoy Truffle" (which Buttoned Down Chris likes! He's asking for it, isn't he?) to prove that he's still learning his craft but he's getting there. So who wins 1968? Lennon gives us "Happiness Is a Warm Gun", "Revolution", "Sexy Sadie", "I'm So Tired", "Dear Prudence" and "Cry Baby Cry". Imagine having written those songs in one calendar year. Prudence alone would have me resting on my laurels. So he's won this year, yeah? Paul donates the ludicrous "Rocky Racoon", the three mentioned above and the loathsome "Lady Madonna". How can he win?

He does.

By a mile.

A country one.

"Hey Jude."

It's the equivalent of a last minute goal, of an admired woman deciding not to go home with her boyfriend after all and asking about your toothbrush arrangements. As saves go this one is a doozy. It's perfect. It's the greatest song ever recorded. Gambo, I'm in your corner on this one. It's simple as all great music is. Anyone who can bang out a tune can play it. It begins like a ballad and ends as a gospel choir with Little Richard wailing over it. The fadeout is brilliantly innovative, as it was the first 7" single to go over seven minutes. DJs used to play it at seven minutes to the hour before the news so they could end their programmes could end that little earlier. And what a way to end your programme. Even Chris likes it!

Paul 2 John 2.

As Iggy says, "It's 1969 okay. There's war across the USA." There was war in the Beatle camp too. Apple was going tits up, Paul and John couldn't agree with each other's choice for manager, they both married very different women and they both worked on and released The Ballad Of John And Yoko. Times don't get much lower than that. I'm going to club "Abbey Road" and "Let It Be" together although the latter was released later a year later. Let's see how they get on. John gives us "I Want You (She's So Heavy)", "Don't Let Me Down" (another B side to an inferior song) and "Across The Universe" (which you might not like but you should try Bowie's version. Someone should call the Inquisition). Not much of a return but he was looking for a way out by now. Paul's good stuff includes "Oh! Darling," "The Long And Winding Road" and "Let It Be." Again, not much of a return. They were both matched by George this year too. "Here Comes The Sun," Something," and "For You Blue" would give him the year but we're not talking about him. That's for another time. No, you see in 1969 something great happened. Something wondrous that paid instant dividends. They started working together again. Just look at the results. "Two Of Us," "Sun King," "Because" (great on the Anthology and almost ruined by Annie Lennox. If you've still got the Inquisition on the phone you might like to tell them to hang on a moment) and "The End". This last one ends with their best couplet which sums up their last eight recording years.

"And in the end, the love you make, is equal to the love you take."

Shakespeare + Mozart.

This should have been their last word, the perfect farewell, the coup de grace but Paul, Paul!, ruins the whole thing by sticking a limp ballad of love to the FUCKING QUEEN at the end. I'm sorry Paul, I was going to call it a draw and make some lame point about how you can't rate one over the other but I'm giving John the nod just because of "Your Majesty". You just know that he snuck back into the studio when the others were on holiday and put it on at the end without telling anyone cause he's so bastard nice. That's too much honey, sunshine. You've lost this little contest because of it. Unforgiveable.

Final score: Paul 2 John 3 (after extra time in Studio No. 2, Abbey Road). Attendance, one man, an acoustic guitar and a bellyful of wine.