ON THE DAY OF A GENERAL ERECTION HERE’S AN UN-BOWIE-LIEVABLE MESSAGE IN SUPPORT OF MILL EDDIBAND (or whatever his name is)…
He might not be one of the all-time political HEROES or the STARMAN of UK politics but TONIGHT, some severe CH-CH-CH-CHANGES need to occur.
We’ve had FIVE YEARS languishing in a LABYRINTH of SORROW, while that LODGER in number 10 and his FAME-hungry LAUGHING GNOMES have dragged the working classes UP THE HILL BACKWARDS until they SCREAM LIKE A BABY.
Despite most politicians and their benefactors being SCARY MONSTERS (& SUPER CREEPS), I’d gladly go from (polling) STATION TO STATION casting thousands of votes if I could.
YOUNG AMERICANS felt a new kind of MODERN LOVE when Obama got in (until he became THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD out), so make sure you put family and friends UNDER PRESSURE to use their vote (especially ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS who’ve never voted before).
So… LET’S DANCE to the rhythm of GOLDEN YEARS Socialism and, to anyone LOW enough to be considering voting for the blue, blue, electric blue team… there must be LIFE ON MARS more intelligent than you…
Vying for position in most published year-end lists of 2015’s best albums is likely to be ‘The Race For Space’, the second album from the mysterious London-based duo Public Service Broadcasting.
As they did on their 2013 debut, ‘Entertain Inform Educate’, they skilfully marry snippets of sampled dialogue to swirls of synth, tape loop, guitar and even banjo, fleshing out their sound with some solid, propulsive drumming.
Their approach is self-consciously gimmicky but they have a pleasingly unique sound that often exudes a mischievous air of playfulness. They’re more of a smartarse musical boffin (J. Willgoose Esq.) with drumming accomplice (Wrigglesworth) than an actual ‘band’, foregoing the need for a vocalist by utilising bold, attention-grabbing statements lifted from stuffy governmental propaganda films, olden-days infomercials and the like.
‘The Race For Space’ was released in February and is themed around the Cold War-era fight for astronautical supremacy. There’s plenty of pertinent pontification and presidential propagandizing upholding the hip-again space theme but probably the most remarkable thing about the album is the sleeve artwork; a striking thing of beauty that eschews convention by having no official front or back cover.
Striving for impartiality, PSB instead let you choose between a US side or a Soviet side by simply flipping the sleeve over, so the slot housing the record still remains on the right-hand side… Pretty neat, huh?
The clever chap behind this novel and rather lovely artwork is Leeds-based designer Graham Pilling, who under his studio name of Army Of Cats has been producing some delightfully distinctive work of late.
I had a chat with Graham recently about how he came to be a graphic artist…
“I was always into doodling as a kid. I can remember drawing Star Wars pictures; an X-Wing attacking a Tie Fighter, so I was doing space stuff even back then!”
“I was really into comics and although I dabbled with the idea of being a comic artist, I struggled with drawing the same character over and over again. I started comics but never had the patience to finish them. I liked a fast return with my work: ‘right, that one’s finished’ and on to the next thing.”
Graham’s early influences would include Quentin Blake’s illustrations for Roald Dahl’s books and LS Lowry. “We had Lowry prints at home and I did a Lowry project at high school. He must’ve been an influence, as some of the work I’ve produced for I Am Kloot and Black Keys feature industrial buildings and chimneys.”
Graham’s had an unorthodox career trajectory but has always been rather enterprising; “My first paid work was drawing Garbage Pail Kids at school for 5pence a go and then later teachers ‘hired me’ for the then-princely sum of £20 to redraw logos on posters for school trips.”
“I studied art in college but dropped out because I didn’t want to learn about stuff I didn’t think was relevant to me at the time. I hated art history, which is a shame as I find it really interesting now. I was immature and cocky but strong-minded, just wanting to be creative and do my own thing.”
Graham’s creative impulses soon led him to leave his Huddersfield homestead for comparatively more creative climes.
“Instead of pursuing any sort of art career, I came to Leeds and got involved in the punk/independent music scene that was growing at the time. I spent a few years playing in bands and helping to run a small record label with my house-mates. We’d put on gigs, produce fanzines, and self-press records; it was a really creative scene. I ended up being the in-house ‘drawer’ and soon people were saying; ‘you’re the guy who does the posters… Can you do one for our band?’. So I was already freelancing.”
“I continued to get interest in my work and that spurred me on to try and improve my skills and look into how I could do it professionally. At first, you’re nervous, you doubt yourself and it feels weird charging someone, but you persevere and your experience builds from there. Obviously I’ve been doing this a few years now but I still remember my early clients, and trying not to let on how new I was to it all.”
So, how did you get the Public Service Broadcasting gig and what were they like to work with?
“They saw my poster for Of Monsters & Men which featured a little character lost in a vast snowy landscape. The figure is really tiny and that struck a chord with them, as one of the themes of their new record is the loneliness and vastness of space.
“Initially I put together a mood board of found images to show I had an understanding of the visuals they were going for. Then I created some rough sketches to show a few different ways of approaching the two-sided cover idea. They picked the ones they liked and I worked on developing the sketches into the final pieces of artwork.”
“The two-sided motif was their idea but they really welcomed my thoughts on how to ensure both sides of the sleeve depicted a celebratory breakthrough or victory. They didn’t want it to be taken out of context, like it was a dark Cold War rivalry or anti-Russian or anything”.
Some of the initial sketches Graham submitted early on in the project.
There are more details of how these ideas developed on Army Of Cats’ blog and since receiving an approving ‘thumbs-up’ for the sleeve artwork, those Public Service Broadcasters have commissioned Graham to produce further works of art for use on screenprinted posters promoting the current UK tour and also the album’s february launch, held, appropriately enough, at the National Space Centre in Leicester.
An up-close, front row fan’s video of that Space Centre show can be seen here… while the poster advertising it is pictured below, along with and a short videoing Graham produced outlining the process behind its creation…
Graham continues: “I also redesigned their logo to tie-in thematically with the record and created the artwork in the inner gatefold of the vinyl. They’ve been great to work with. Really professional but also friendly and keen for me to feel involved in the project. Which is nice, as not all client-designer relationships run as smoothly as that.”
Not all offers of work are pursued to completion either, even when the 30 million-sellers get in touch…
“I got approached by the management of a really huge, Grammy award-winning artist. They wanted a poster designing for a sold-out London gig. They were throwing buzzwords at me that didn’t translate into anything visual and showed me some pieces made by other artists that were examples of what they didn’t want. I was thinking; ‘old soul records, blocking, two-tones’, did a few little sketches and even referenced imagery that occurs in the artist’s music videos”.
“They didn’t like anything but couldn’t say why, or what they actually wanted. In the end, I just phoned them and ended the relationship, saying; ‘I don’t understand what it is you want me to deliver.’”
“I’ve been very lucky as I’ve never had to advertise, just always had referrals from happy clients. A huge proportion of it is I’m reliable. I realised early on, whatever freelance work you do, your client doesn’t have to think ‘this is the best possible thing that can be made for me’. They want the best experience. If the work is good enough and the experience of dealing with you was satisfying and you answer all their questions, they’re happy. It’s 40% finished product & 60% how you deal with people.”
“As with hiring a mechanic, you don’t know the ins and outs, you just want it done. Nobody would say; ‘he’s a good graphic designer, his composition and colour theory is excellent’ because they don’t know about that stuff. That’s why they hired you.”
“You sell the relationship, you make sure they’re involved in it and have ownership of it. You help your client understand the criteria that makes a project successful so that when you show them something that works, they can see that it does for themselves. I continue to get work because of good client management, making sure that THEY are happy with the work, not just me.”
In other words, and as illustrated by this beautifully decorative print he made (below):
WORK HARD AND BE HUMBLE.
Looking ahead, Graham and his one-man Army Of Cats would like to find more time alongside client-based projects to work on more general but still wonderfully eye-catching prints that reflect his varied personal interests.
“I’m a little obsessed with mountain and fell running. I’m working on producing prints of the mountains and landscapes where I run, to try and express how I feel when I’m out doing that. In the past I’ve never really referred to myself as an artist but I finally feel like I have something personal to convey, so the word ‘artist’ is growing on me and I’m excited about exploring a new direction and seeing what comes out of it.”
Public Service Broadcasting are currently on tour and these screenprinted tourposters, all individually hand-signed and numbered, are available to purchase as a treasured, hugely attractive memento…
Those retina-scorching images of gorgonzolan tackiness that clickbait webheads have convinced us are the most ghastly LP jackets ever produced have now been exposed for their musical content. With mixed but fairly interesting results…
Amidst the alpine crooners, deluded nobodies and minging god-botherers there’s some decent stuff previewed in that clip.
It starts off well with cuddly Carlos, who’s a big, furry fun-loving lad with a nice line in jaunty EurAfricanoPop (a new genre he just this minute kickstarted).
There’s more Carlos magic here and here’s an even better video of the track featured:
Is Vincent Carpretta for real…?!? Wow. What a lovely (lady’s) singing voice he has. That Gary character really does look like he could take care of business. Intriguing sound he’s got too.
Nigel Pepper Cock is my favourite. Such fucking NERVE to release that! My friend Pete has this record- it’s actually a hardcore punk seven inch called ‘Fresh White Reeboks Kickin’ Your Ass’. I’m sure you noticed he was wearing a pair… along with a huge, stonking upright bonk-on.
My dad has this Orleans LP. Which is almost as uncomfortable to look at.
Kevin Rowland still sounds fabulous. I’ve never heard the whole of that ‘My Beauty’ album but I kinda liked his version of Whitney’s ‘Greatest Love Of All’. Mainly because I love his voice. So unique, heartfelt and shrill.
Brainstorm sound awesome. A proggy bunch of jazz-rock groovers from Baden-Baden whose work I will endeavour to explore further. That’s a classic cover too. ’70s hippies in ladies’ underwear is never going to be a bad thing in my book. It’s really rather arousing actually.
There’s nothing wrong with that Herbie mann sleeve either. A kick-ass flautist with his top off (on what looks like a hot day indoors)… What’s so terrible about that? Nice typeface to go with a strong look from Herb. Photographed by sometime Dors photographer Joel Brodsky. It’s a classy album this one. Duane Allman appears, helping to cement the jazz-rock fusion. Richard Tee from the shit-hot funk band Stuff is on keyboards, soul sessioneer Donald ‘Duck’ Dunn and the great Chuck Rainey are on bass duties and legendary drummer Bernard Purdie also features.
Also, the ‘Argentina Coral-Cante Gitano’ sleeve (around 7m38s) is also a… well, it says it on the cover… belter. Great font choices and such a striking image of a lady with unconventional but very sensual features. It made me want to hear more. So i did:
She’s really quite pretty, look…
That weird Wasnatch thing (the guy blowing a french horn up a woman’s arse) is just a bunch of pisstaking ska jokers from Salt Lake City, probably taking the term ‘rude boys’ literally, for larks. It looks like it’s from the ’70s and might well be (they could’ve reused an old image from some raunchy German oompah obscurity) but, as the lyrics mentioning pioneering perverts 2-Live-Crew might suggest, they’re a fairly recent concern, only forming in 2009.
I’d include 2-Live-Crew amongst the hip-hop I’ve heard that’s tons worse than Big Bear. I liked his tone. Truly awful sleeve though… as with everything released on Master P’s No Limit label.
I was most taken by that truly sleazy ‘My Pussy Belongs To Daddy’ album. For the titles more than the tits:
This record looks amazing. Sounds pretty good too, like leery strip-joint cabaret jazz. Every track reads like a gloopy and quite surreal double entrendre:
We have: ‘Things Are Soft For Grandma, Since Grandpa’s Eighty-Four’, ‘I Tried It Everywhere’, ‘Sadie’s Still Got The Rag On’ (Eeeeuww!) and there’s a couple of classic Carry-Onners; ‘He Forgot His Rubbers’ and ‘Tony’s Got Hot Nuts’ but I’m perplexed and a little unsettled to learn ‘She Sits Among The Cabbages And Peas’.
Millie Jackson is just plain filthy. The female Chubby Brown of soul.
I’m loving the Rolls-Royce with pram wheels Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson knocked up in woodwork class. That’s not the world’s worst cover either. It’s just a funny funk fella fuckin’ around for fun. No more ludicrous than any Parliament album sleeve.
The absolute worst has got to be John Bult with ‘Julie’s Sixteenth Birthday’. Now, this sleeve could well be depicting a compassionate father reassuring his daughter over the distress caused by the complex change from adolescence to womanhood.
But viewed through Yewtree-weary 21st-century eyes, it can’t help but look, like, well dodge.
I enjoy writing and I’m up for the occasional challenge, so that’s why I attempted to review this terribly piss-weak slither of wussy Europap I once got sent (which originally got published here). It’s far easier to eulogise about music you’re genuinely passionate about but I figured being able to express exactly why something is so hideously lame is some kind of skill in itself. Sort of.
Enrique Iglesias- ‘Away’
This is one of two brand new tracks that are lazily tagged onto the end, sorry… two new tracks that feature on and greatly enhance Señor Iglesias Jr.’s just-released ‘Greatest Hits’ album.
It starts promisingly enough with five whole seconds of dreamy Vangelis-like synth but then droops its weary shoulders and hunches into a gawky attempt at a Latino-tinged R’n’B ballad in which, during the inane chorus, it sounds like our Enreek is speaking in tongues or practising vocal exercises: ‘Why you wanna throw me away? Oh Why? No way, no way. Away! Oh! Why?!
Shame he couldn’t have fit ‘Hawaii’ into the lyrics somewhere and completed the set.
Judging by the chronological timeline of his album sleeves, ‘Away’ could actually be a farewell song to his gradually diminishing facial mole, as I recall that lil’ fella had a Geordie accent on Bo! Selecta. ‘Away, Enrique, let’s gan doon tha toon’.
(Skip to 3min45sec for Enrique’s mole’s celeb goss round-up)
Overall, this single’s a fine reminder of just how jolly well seductive Enrique can be, even when he’s simply imparting random vowel sounds. A tea-spluttering 100-&-odd-million worldwide album sales suggest he must be doing summat right.
There was nothing particularly new or fast about them but still… here’s The Automatic… with daffodils.
When digging around in the darker corners of clunky old laptops and trodden-on memory sticks for pieces of writing to repost on this blog, I was a little surprised to be reminded I gave a hugely complimentary review to the second album by The Automatic.
Y’know… that lot that did; ‘What’s that coming over the hill? Is it a Monster?’, the song everybody remembers them for and one I personally never liked. In fact, I thought it was intensely annoying.
Nevertheless, I got sent the album in the post and liked it (still do, listening back to it again) so I’m not going to pretend otherwise. It also had me flicking through the ‘where are they now?’ files. What do flash-in-the-pan indie bands do after their time has been called.
The album reviewed below was beset by distribution problems brought about as the result of a dispute between their label, B-Unique and its parent label, Polydor. Their third and final album was released independently and, as detailed here, it turns out their frontman decided to learn some languages, including Esperanto, and study computer science at Cardiff Uni as a mature student.
Phew! Rock ‘n’ Roll, eh…?
The Automatic- This Is A Fix (Polydor/B-Unique)
If we must insist on living by categorisation, I’m not too sure into which camp I should place The Automatic. As a U.K. indie act, they fall somewhere between the laddish, fist-banging terrace-indie brigade and the sweeter, more sequencer-happy electro pop favoured by other, more thoughtful souls. The album was recorded in Los Angeles with Butch Walker (Fall Out Boy, All American Rejects, Simple Plan) which might explain why, to certain ears, it may also resemble some of the catchier, more pop-literate US pop-punk/emo bands (but Christ knows there’s enough of those doing the rounds without the Brits adding to the infernal deluge).
I’d heard the first Automatic album ‘Not Accepted Anywhere’, several times while working instore at HMV and was never that impressed, so I was preparing to digest to this with a heavy, largely unmoved heart. As it turns out, the tunes bash along at a nice, rowdy pace and have enough hooky power-chord changes and catchy choruses to grab your attention over their collective clatter. Iwan Griffiths (they’re Welsh, as you might’ve guessed), their bolshy, ‘no-frills’ drummer purrs out a different rhythmic approach on each track too, ensuring their limiting distorto-rock style doesn’t result in them sounding too humdrum.
Most tracks make their stamp on you in some way another. The majority are brash and loud but ‘Magazines’ dead rings for the expansive technoid-rock of MGMT and ‘This Is A Fix’ and ‘Accessories’ feature some powerfully wrought, high-registering vocals from bassist and singer, Robin Hawkins. I really was expecting to be rendered unimpressed by this. A difficult second album by a band unloved by many whose previous best was some fairly lame, childish tosh about an oncoming monster. It’s a marked improvement from their first, though and provides the same kind of balls-out, unashamed power-pop thrills that made We Are Scientists’ first album such a winner.
Some tracks do make you wonder if they’re annoyingly poppy or just pretty damn good. ‘This Ship’ begins with an awful, overblown American teen-pop feel but, further in, scampering along at a breathless pace, it boasts a winning, more downbeat sequence of what seem to be three different consecutive choruses, such is the song’s catchiness quotient. The plodding, mawkish ‘Make Your Mistakes’ is an unwelcome half-ballad that irritates rather than improves as it unfolds and if in the wrong mood, you could obviously dismiss this album as being formulaic indie-rock ear-candy.
Generally, though, with your glossy, plasticky ‘Saturday night out’ head on, you’d have to concede this is a fine pop album by a band blessed with a keen ear for no-brain ‘singalongability’ but with enough chunky garage band punch to ensure they don’t stray too far into over-produced McFly or Killers territory.
I must admit, too that I’m surprised The Automatic haven’t got a wider profile. They rock harder and bash out tunes with twice the insidious pop hooks of B-Unique label-mates, Kaiser Chiefs and they’re a little easier to take seriously as a band with enough creativity in the bank to stick around for a while and continue winning admirers.
Mmmmm…. shows what I know about ten-a-penny indie-rock outfits. It’s also quite telling that the only single from the album, ‘Steve McQueen’, was probably my least favourite track….
It’s probably a good thing I don’t work as talent-spotting A&R man.
I was pretty chuffed to discover recently that there will soon be a new album by the splendidly stylish Scottish lot, Trashcan Sinatras.
Their first album, ‘Cake’ came out in 1990 but the band had signed to Go! Discs (home to Paul Weller, Housemartins, Beautiful South, Billy Bragg, Portishead and The La’s, amongst others) way back in 1987, using their advance to first build their own excellently-named Shabby Road studio in Kilmarnock.
Remarkably, this new studio album will be only their sixth. They don’t come around often but their intermittent LPs are always worth waiting for (and they’re astonishing live).
This forthcoming release is currently in production thanks to a successful pledgemusic campaign, showing how, despite their lack of commercial success or even critical commendation, they have a super-loyal fanbase eager for new material who remain in equal parts both puzzled and secretly glad that they’re not more universally appreciated.
It’s been seven years since their last album. One which I was compelled to review with a reasonable degree of enthusiasm.
Trashcan Sinatras- ‘In The Music’
Despite the minimal exposure and their deliberately dormant existence, it’s still mystifying to consider how a band as fine as Trashcan Sinatras have slithered sleekly under most people’s alarm sensor laser beams. Lying low, they’ve avoided the bright lights to instead work in their own snug world of blissful musical candour, convening sporadically, unbothered by public indifference and keen to create something timeless.
‘Weightlifting’, the last shining example of their craft, emerged 5 long years ago and this album is only the 5th studio release in their 20-year existence but, rare as they are, new songs by these gracefully ageing Scots are well worth waiting for.
From the crystalline jangle of the opener, ‘People’, every track shines. ‘I Hung My Heart Upon The Willows’ is a lush Balearic sea shanty, ‘Prisons’ a stomping crowd-pleaser, while the doleful Syd Barrett tribute, ‘Oranges & Apples’, is seven head-swaying minutes of gentle sea breeze loveliness.
The album was made in the glow of love and its warm, trebly production exudes a twinkling air of tranquillity throughout, but not once do things get soppy or blandly sentimental. Frank Reader’s whispered vocals have an intimate quality and the lyrics are beguilingly delivered, particularly on the marvellous ‘I Wish You’d Met Her’.
With Reader (whose big sister, Eddi co-wrote two tracks) and Guitarist Paul Livingston now living out new lives with new wives in L.A, there is a winning mix of Californian sun and Caledonian glum (let’s call it ‘Caledornian fun’!). The liquefied harmonies and a guest appearance from Carly Simon on ‘Should I Pray?’ only add to the hazy, ‘70s ‘Laurel Canyon’ feel each track is imbued with. Coming over kinda like Fleetwood Floyd, dreamy yet dextrous, they sound joyfully confident and ready to charm the world.
Chances are, though, this new album won’t kick the Trashcans skyward but it will delight existing devotees and, for anyone else who welcomes great music into their home, this will be the prettiest, most instantly mood-lifting bundle of tunes to unravel itself at your door this year. Ten tracks, all wonderful and, assuming you have a soul, impossible not to love. The proof is ‘In The Music’.
Score: 9/10
See if you agree… ‘In The Music’ is up in full here on YouTube. It’s unlikely they’ll have a feisty team of lawyers demanding it gets taken down anytime soon but, nevertheless, listen to it now… It’ll be a lot nicer than that last thing you were listening to.
However, if you’re in a rush and/or want something to watch, here’s the feelgood video to ‘People’, the opening (but by no means the strongest) track from it:
This is a review of a chirpy little single I once got sent in the post. It’s from the debut solo album by Conor Oberst, the Nebraskan multi-instrumentalist who’s the brains behind Bright Eyes and various other musical projects.
Conor Oberst- ‘I Don’t Wanna Die (In The Hospital)’
This new single, with its boogie-woogie piano, twangy gee-tar and rolling drums, was the stand-out track from Conor Oborst’s last album and is a good-time country-rock hoedown about the last desperate anxieties torturing the mind of a dying man. Woo! Alright!
Ably displaying his florid yet crooked creative bent, Oborst is on superb lyrical form, imparting his pleas to be pulled from his sick bed with an unerring paranoid catharsis.
It is ludicrously catchy, too. A song it’ll be difficult to forget after just one hearing, especially as the song’s title is also the opening 3 lines. Its irresistible campfire ‘clap-along’ feel would only fail to rouse the dead.
Speaking of which, help him get his boots on… take him back outside. Because, well… ‘They won’t let you smoke and you can’t get drunk…I’m looking like a girl in my sleeping gown. Can you get this tube out of my arm…?’
Set the man free, for God’s sake.
This is a great single that deserves to be a huge hit and, consequently, get used over the closing credits of some revealing new BBC documentary on the sickly state of the NHS.
It’s sure to be a hit on Nashville hospital radio anyway.
A review I did for the second album by an obscure, now-defunct ‘math rock’ trio from Denmark:
Marvin’s Revolt- ‘Killec’
Marvin’s Revolt are a dynamic Danish trio capable of displaying some real invention.
Jerky time signatures rub up nicely against melodic chord structures. Their skewed, ever-twisting riffs jostle for space in between busy polyrhythms without the end result sounding awkward and cluttered.
They generate a lively energy and generally forgo any calmer, drowsier moments that may cause your attention to waver.
It’s challenging music but only in the way the band challenge themselves to produce something original, not in terms of it being a challenge to sit through and enjoy.
They have a crunchy, clanging sound but there are pleasingly diverse elements at work; ‘Add. Edit. Kill.’ demonstrates a gentler acoustic side that still maintains a fidgety charm while ‘Times Will Change’ boasts a nice kind of post-rock male voice choir portion.
In line with other Scandinavian bands, Marvin’s Revolt sing their English lyrics with an American twang but this suits them perfectly as they seem more than capable of matching up to the best prog-pop math-rockers the US has to offer.
This is a fairly impressive batch of songs that deserve greater exposure.
This is a jolly favourable review I did for a website a few years back.
I think she’s ace, Alice Russell. A real talent with a tasteful ear for musical co-conspirators, she’s particularly charming live, partly because she appears like she’s really enjoying herself .
She’s more recently provided vocals on ‘Men Will Do Anything’, a tune from the unlikely-sounding occurrence that is David Byrne and Fatboy Slim’s musical about Filipino shoe fetishist, Imelda Marcos, ‘Here Lies Love’.
Alice Russell – ‘Pot Of Gold’
Suffolk soul siren Alice Russell certainly keeps herself busy. ‘Pot Of Gold’ is her 4th and most accomplished album and aside from her work with Brighton’s funk revivalists, Quantic Soul Orchestra, she has also supplied demand for soulful vocals required by Massive Attack, Bah Samba, The Roots and on Mr. Scruff’s ‘Ninja Tuna’ album.
She possesses a powerful, expressive voice that, rather than aping vintage soul divas of the past, has its own distinct resonance. The production, courtesy of T.M. Juke, captures everything with digital clarity but still achieves that dusty valve amp earthiness.
The quality of the songs on here is consistently high and they vary in the approach used. Some are stomping funk-a-thons, others infused with lighter, jazzy afro-beat touches and there’s a fine, spookily iridescent cover of Gnarls Barkley’s ‘Crazy’.
Her assembled band back her up ably, belting out tunes rich in scratchy funk guitar, coloured with twinkling electric piano flourishes and honking horns.
By charming audiences across the Atlantic with her live performances, her voice coming across as strongly as her infectious personality, she has already shown the qualities that should elevate her above the so-so sham-soul of Duffy, Adele and their like.
In 2014, it seemed like everybody signed up to be conscripted for The War On Drugs.
Emerging from the tastefully edgy indie stable, Secretly Canadian, their third album, ‘Lost In The Dream’ exuded a self-assured krautrocky coolness the hipsters were hip to, while also boasting the stadium-ready vastness of classic American mainstream rock.
It shows tonight, with the greying heads of cogitating codgers a more prevalent sight than frenzied clusters of skinny-jeaned youths.
The NME had them down as ‘a Balearic Bruce Springsteen’ or ‘Don Henley on horseback’, so can I add to this alliterative metaphor-fest with (deep breath):
Dylan dolefully daydreaming of Dire Straits doing drugs in Dallas.
War On Drugs is basically the Adam Granduciel show; he’s the frontman, lead guitarist, songwriter and producer who’s surrounded himself with session dudes sympathetic to his quest for slackerdom supremacy.
They lock in for some heavy hypersonic grooving which, rather than heads-down, lank-haired shoegazing, would be more conducive to clear-skied, midwestern stargazing. While no doubt sprawled on the hood your ’69 Dodge Charger, hand in hand with your sweetheart.
Live, they deliver the same kind of languid thrills but with a sonorous surge that’s ever so subtly sonic.
A third of ‘Under The Pressure’s nine-minute length is given over to an open-ended ambient noise-scape but, neither live nor on record, does it ever seem to overstay its welcome. ‘Suffering’ boasts a beautifully soft, docile melody with a pin-sharp guitar solo and ‘Eyes To The Wind’, with its tumbling chord progression and potent axe-solo finale made for a rousing final song.
Several of their songs, such as the set-opening ’Burning’, ‘Red Eyes’ (a single with no real chorus) and the wonderfully pure ’An Ocean In Between The Waves’ have a pacy, attention-pricking tempo, yet they’re made doubly compulsive as they resonate in a vast, orotund swirl of sound that’s almost mantra-like.
In the same way that a distant air raid siren or a factory klaxon might cease being annoying after a while and adopt a more soothing, melodious quality, you get drawn in by the hugeness of their sound, succumbing until you’re woozy from the thrill.
The delicately-played melodies fuse beautifully with their collective merging of composite sounds; the metronomic bass lines, the plaintive wails of feedback and sheets of effect-heavy guitar sending waves of rhythmic noise rippling out to fill every corner of the room while the addition of a parping baritone saxophone on tracks like ‘Arms Like Boulders’ adds an extra layer of bowel-deep, burring bass underneath.
It seems likely that, Mark Kozelek aside, the only people not charmed by the simple joys ‘Lost In The Dream’ yields are those who are yet to hear it. Witnessing their beguiling live show simply confirms how special Granduciel and his gang are. Catch them touring the UK again in February 2015, as they’ll soon be playing venues as grand and colossal as they sound.
“They saw my poster for Of Monsters & Men which featured a little character lost in a vast snowy landscape. The figure is really tiny and that struck a chord with them, as one of the themes of their new record is the loneliness and vastness of space.
Randomia Hebditica 