This Is Not TV

As we are about to hit the Chinese new year at speed with little regard for stuff, it’s about time I looked at the Albarn/Hewlett (yes another one) collaboration, ‘Journey To The West’. Let me just state first off that the skirling pentatonic electronic interlude sting used heavily during the 2008 Olympics has nothing to do with this album and does not feature at all (which I was a bit gutted about), but apart from that there is a lot of good stuff here that goes beyond the rosey tinted nostalgia experienced by chaps of a certain age who got sexually confused by Tripitaka at a crucial moment in their development.

But the fighting, flying, theme tune and casual abuse of anthropomorphic pigs were cool.

As this is based on the opera premiered at the Manchester International Festival in 2007, this is essentially musical theatre… no, don’t turn off. The lyrics are based on ancient texts, not some original idea by Richard Stillgoe, the language is mandarin so you don’t have to deal with trite rhyming couplets… unless you speak Mandarin and the music is… interesting. There is a story too, which will be familiar to anyone who watched that programme, but a quick wander around Wiki and the like will bring you up to speed if you didn’t… it’s not that important though because it has the chops in the music department.

Fusing east and west blah blah blah… you know the drill. Pretty lazy statement and so so obvious. It is best to look at this as music, just music, as opposed to any kind of ethnicated fusion. There are a lot of styles here though. From the wild joy of ‘Monkey’s World’ that throws lo-fi Buggles vocals into a Gorillaz groove through the bombastic pomp of ‘The Dragon King’ to the delicate pop of ‘Heavenly Peach Banquet’, the music twists and dodges like a cloud borne sideburned god of mischief – regardless of whether you are following the story, you are drawn into the spirit of the tale regardless. By the time you reach the interval (just after ‘Tripitaka’s Curse’), you are enchanted by the cyber-antiquity of the score.

Like a lot of musical theatre, it does take a bit of a dip at this point. Though the waltzing minimalism of ‘A Pig’s Confession’ is funny at first, it wearies and ‘Sandy the River Demon’ is very dour. But it picks up, and the martial splendour of ‘March of The Iron Army’, the suspenseful humour of ‘Pigsy in Space’ and the surreal conclusion of ‘Monkey Bee’ bring the whole shebang to a satisfying climax.

Okay, I’ve over simplified, but it’s an enchanting piece of work, and no mistake. There are all these little touches and turns that decorate and embellish – the lyrics chattered monkey like, the chanting of old men to rooster accompaniment, the huge array of instruments – it’s cheerful, fun, not so experimental that you can’t listen to it with pleasure but not so low brow that you have to listen to it prone. And Damon doesn’t sing on it, so it doesn’t go all mockney either. Monkey, not mockney. Haha! A prosperous year of the Ox!

Popularity: 35% [?]

Being an anachronistic hippy of advancing years, I will cling desperately to any hope of a return to the good old days i.e. oil wheels, kaftans, teepees, free love, lava lamps, hallucinogenic love drugs, free love and tripped out psychedelic music. Oh yeah, and vigorous political debate – we can have some of that after we’re knackered out from doing all the above.

Joking aside, psychedelia is for me a curious lost genre that lies somewhere between skiffle and prog rock, an islet where the inhabitants don’t mind complexity and experiment as long as it is in short chunks as their attention span is shot. It’s still fundamentally pop, but has a twisted aspect, a darker, hypnotic personality – open the gates of perception by all means, but let’s have a sing along chorus too. And I reckon it deserves a comeback, so that’s why I’ve linked up these two chancers and stretched the analogy that flairs are coming back in way too far.

Mirror Mirror are not your usual Brooklyn band. They’re more an anti-traditional New York band, like the Velvet Underground. They talk about a circle of friends who rotate through the band offering their services and adding their creative juices to the pot, and that communal feel permeates throughout this album, though where David Riley and Ryan Lucero, song writers and founder members, stand on this whole communal thing is uncertain – it gets quite dark in there.

It starts off pleasantly though with ‘First Gate’, an introductory cluster of chimes and chants with keys that usher you in and love bomb you with opposing harmonies. There are three gates in all on this album, each one breaking up the flow of the narrative (if there is one) and providing a musical amuse bouche – this gate is very mystical leading to mystical songs, while Gate Three is more robotic, which leads to… more mystical songs. Nuts.

‘New Horizons’ is the first real song, led by an arpeggiating acoustic that takes a curious chord path to get to the song core, punctuated by jags of synth and falsetto chorale, like splashes of decadence. The understated vocals hint timidly at some kind of sex cult (“show them what you learned today in the colony” – shudder), occasionally bursting into that incongruous album title for the chorus. It’s an innocence of sorts; a dark innocence. ‘Love is the Law’ carries on this culty feel, quoting Uncle Aleister and going all Polyphonic spree, but still remaining fairly understated, uncertain – even unconfident. Synths space out, speeded up guitars ping, but it still has that sing along chorus.

If there was anything to confirm this band’s allegiance to early Pink Floyd, then it would be the next batch of songs as they could have quite easily been penned by Syd himself, only he’s dead so they weren’t. ‘Don Coyote’s Confession’, a drug prised thing uses Joe Meek guitars with that half trance voice to create proto-Pink, ‘Lock Up Your Sons’ marches with the determination of ‘See Emily Play’, only it is slower and nastier (more culty imagery) and ‘Eugene…’ well, ‘Arnold Layne’ anyone, with a Kinks riff and a mellotronic mood? Very poppy, slightly too familiar like an over amorous step uncle who is amusing but… back off.

‘Cry For More’ is that break, going forward not back in time. Angular and anachronistic (I love that word), there’s a gothier darkness here – Cure style, but tie dyed. ‘Talisman’ with all it’s wide-eyed homunculus worship lightened by a guitar arpeggio (refreshing!) does put the Pink back, only brisker and more spiritual. ‘Inward Way Out’ almost lets its hair down with a hippy swing beat, but plunges back into darkness for the closure and ‘Vision Number Nine’ goes all French in a mirror (ha) of ‘First Gate’. It’s been a long, sometimes confusing, sometimes over familiar journey, but it does make with the patchouli and light show in a fashionable loft somewhere. As I like my lamb, very Pink, very rich.

Greg Weeks, Esper and luddite, takes a more simple, electronic rustic approach to the whole third eye thing. Self confessed sixtiesophile, this his second album has that strobing paisley sound but remains a more folky, acoustic based affair with augmentation provided by mellotron, theremin, flute etc. Greg’s voice has that Gruff Rhys element that makes it quite mellow listening, but the pace is usually pretty funereal – the Nepalese gongs and fluting keys of ‘You Won’t Ever Be The Same Again,’ coupled with a despairing open chord on the acoustic is very sombre. There are moments of loungy good humour though, like ‘The Lamb’s Path’ and ‘Not Meant For Light’ – still quite dark but buoyantly trite at times, but the emphasis here is dark, dark and darker. Nine minute epic ‘The Hive’ sucks the light form your eyes, and ‘Funhouse’ makes the light hearted suggestion of “why not burn them all.” Always look on the bright side of life.

But if it is dark, is a humorous darkness. You can’t get through this review without mentioning his cover of ‘Borderline,’ so here goes. Take a fluffy piece of eighties pop, slow it down to the pace of a broken heart, throw in a Theremin and hey presto! Instant wrist-opening humour at the expense of those fat cat record producers (Greg is on Wichita, by the way).

At times, the misery does get pretty adolescent in it’s focus, but it does have that loneliness of psychosis at times. Both Mirror Mirror and Greg Weeks are pretty twisted and psychotic, but whereas MM are a shared delusion, Greg is a lone breakdown. It’s like a mirror universe version of the Pink Floyd story in fact (I am of course referring to the mirror universe where Spock has a beard and Kirk is… still Kirk to all intents and purposes). MM is Syd Barrett Floyd pre-spin out, Greg Weeks is post. Psychedelia may come back, I hope it does, but it will be a very dark summer of love this time around.

Popularity: 7% [?]

I’ve never really listened to Black Tide, but thanks to damn near every music magazine in this country I know that they are, apparently, very good. So good in fact that they have toured with many, many famous bands. And are also on the Kerrang! Tour with two very good bands… and one very, very bad one (begins with Mind ends with less Self Indulgence but lets not go there). They’ve recorded on a Metallica tribute CD, played Ozzfest and Leeds/Reading and have also won various awards for being very, very good. And despite this, they’re all under 21. So, are my expectations high? Why yes. Yes they are.

And Black Tide deliver. I love this song. It’s just non-stop, in your face, “I’m going to punch you in the face and take all of your money while you’re on the floor and you are going to like it my friend” metal from the second it kicks in. Ahem. Yes, Black Tide are very deserved of all their praise judging from this single. It’s the perfect mix of Metallica’s precision, Maiden’s showmanship and Guns’n’Roses ability to just go that little bit further, that make this song everything that the 80’s had to throw at metal. You can feel the energy flowing from every note, every beat and every wail from your speakers. It’s not a standard record, it’s something that a band can be proud of. And being so young, this band can be even more proud of a song that sounds like it came straight from the minds of some of the best musicians of their time.

Have my expectations been met? Why yes, yes they have. I expect big, very big things from this band over the coming years. Let’s just pray they don’t go glam…

Popularity: 4% [?]

Now, I’ll be frank, Disturbed aren’t my favourite band in this big wide world. It’s the whole cheesy American metal sound that puts me off and the fact that they are seen as somehow different from every other run of the mill, larger than life “metal” band around at the moment. But hey, I’ll soldier through this one for the team. Despite the idea of a song called ‘Indestructible’ filling me with dread… please, please don’t let this be as bad as the Genesis cover.

It begins with an air raid siren. Followed by machine gun fire rattling in the background, before the air is broken by a classic Disturbed riff, jumping up and down the frets with a few chugs thrown in for good measure. I’ll give them this, they are infectious, to an insane degree, it’s only a few seconds in when I find myself nodding along without any control over my head.

David Draiman’s on good form too. It’s nothing particularly special as usual from the frontman but he definitely has the voice for this kind of song. The edgy, almost rap-like verses and the superb title line in the chorus, just listen for the “Indestructible Master of Warrrrrr”… very nice. Altogether the song sounds polished and well put together, and that’s just what Disturbed do. Draiman’s razor sharp voice sounds perfect against the sheer epicness of the chorus (I know I just said epicness, but don’t judge, its hard to describe this music as anything else) as the drums crash around like a raging (but organised) bull in a room full of cymbals. And I think that’s what makes Disturbed as good as they are. The guitars are fairly standard for a band described as “Hard Rock” or “Nu Metal” or whatever you want to call them (with the one exception of the solo in here), but along with Draiman’s signature tones, Mike Wengren’s drumming is brutal, really giving the band that sound that can set them aside from their competitors. Overall, good metal song, everything you expect from Disturbed. Not as bad as the Genesis cover… Hooray!

Popularity: 4% [?]

1^st track is the title single ‘Feed My Soul’ which starts with a slightly misleading Linkin Park style staccato guitar with that terribly overused electronic piano sound, before the drums kick us into a brilliant, brilliant song. Cue a larger than life Muse-style riff that crushes its way into the quieter, even darker verse, before exploding again into an almost Chili Peppers reminiscent, group chorus. It’s just what you’d expect from Voodoo Six. No-holds-barred, in your face Rock ‘n’ Roll complete with crazy tattoos, over the top guitar solos and drunken one nighters in a hotel room with 5 strippers and a big ol’ bag of marijuana. Harry Rundell’s voice adapts to everything the song throws at him, raw and almost soulful in the verses, then as big as Axl’s used to be before those corn rows weighed him down. Stick this on your stereo at full volume, no other way to listen to it really.

‘Jam the Sun’ however delivers a different side of the Six. We get a toned down version of the song, played acoustically, with Rundell getting everything he can from his voice. The song still, however, remains powerful. It’s got the edge that comes from the almost melancholic style it’s played in. The quiet Spanish guitar line gives the track a real atmosphere of passion, emphasised by the entrance of the strings in he chorus. It’s not until the end of the track though that we see the real song-writing talent of Voodoo Six, as the band smashes into a reprise of the chorus in full electric glory. The final minute or so really hits you after the softer and more intricate style that’s preceded it. The drums take us into a classic but experimentally dark solo that continues into an epic and uplifting tremolo into the final section of this great song. A real treat.

Popularity: 5% [?]

Ah Weezer, for so long the proverbial sweatshop for catchy tunes, churning out hit after hit without any remorse for the hundreds of awful renditions that are sure to follow for years after. The new album has already given us ‘Pork and Beans’ which took the music TV stations by storm for months with its classic video and classic Rivers Cuomo “I’m better than you” chorus (“I’ma do the things that I wana do, I ain’t got a thing to prove to you” etc.) So, can ‘Troublemaker’ live up to the expectations we have of the band? Will it be as good as the classics that they’ve already given us? Will you be humming it for days after you hear it, only to forget it, then hear it again, and immediately start humming it to yourself over and over as the vicious Weezer cycle continues until they release the next one?

Well it starts off well enough, and continues unchanged for quite a while. A simple guitar riff kicks in, joined by the drums and then Rivers, singing about how he doesn’t need books… or something… I don’t know… just don’t make him read! Or apparently he’ll “play some Heavy Metal, listen you will die.” So yeah. Don’t you be giving him books ya hear? I joke of course, everybody loves Rivers… The song kind of drones on for a minute and a half before suddenly cutting out into a single muted chord strummed over and over again, joined by the drums and a screaming guitar, finally giving us that flash of inventiveness that Weezer can summon at any point, before smashing back into a chorus that I guarantee you will not be able to get out of your head for months, trust me.

Will it be as good as the classics though? ‘Buddy Holly’, ‘Beverley Hills’? Frankly, no, not really, it’s just too short. Everything’s over before you can really get into it, like the band have just tried to squeeze everything that makes them great into a 2:45 filler track. So, unfortunately I think this one might just pass everyone by, catching our attention for a short while until something better comes along. Ironically, usually that would be Weezer that coming in and stealing the limelight, lets just hope that it’s someone worthwhile that takes the gauntlet of our brains this time around.

Popularity: 2% [?]

NB These following reviews were done in haste late at night between sporadic episodes of self hatred and unfounded confidence. That’s why they might be… yeah…

In a vain attempt to catch up with last year, I shall be eschewing my usual verbosity and circumlocution for a touch of brevitas… it is a new year after all. Better brief and late than never…

Late Of The Pier – Bathroom Gurgle
“We have all been wasting our time.” Ooh, listen to those early eighties keyboards squelch like Spongebob Squarepants on MDMA. Very Human League. Then some kind of mad prog rock Hammond interlude and we are in Roxy Music territory. I’m not sure if this is Future Sailors or Yello, but it is certainly silly post nu rave fun albeit with an identity crisis.

Charli XCX – Emmeline/Art Bitch
More electro bitching in a kinda Crystal Castles early Kate Nash vein. In fact, ‘Caroline’… ‘Emmeline’… hmmm. Slight Sapphic feel and a touch of Toni Basil. Taunting and… okay, but hardly the reinvention of the wheel. ‘Art Bitch’… Myspace, photoshop… “ you are an art bitch at heart.” Tender, high energy but still splicing the Nash and the Allen. Plus plenty of ‘Skins’ baiting remixes. Big beats, yah?

Tony Christie – Born To Cry
“That coat that I gave you – so shiny and black, I’m sorry my darling, I’m taking back.” Sheffield crooner supreme teams up with Jarvis Cocker and Richard Hawley to channel the spirit of Jimmy Webb, add some electric guitar and throw in a bit of emotional stuff. He’s still a powerful singer and does Glen Campbell better than Richard Hawley – so much more to him than ‘Amarillo.’ Now that must make him cry.

The Raid – Oh Lillee/On A Scale
I’m thinking Franz Ferdinand, Hives, The Movies, Reef – Hammond, distorted guitar, stripped vocal chords, high hat rhythm. Lively in a concerted fashion but fairly forgettable. ‘On A Scale’ has a bit of Muse skiffle, so… maybe they can annoy on a glorious scale in later years. One to watch unless there’s something better on.

Screaming Lights –Glow/GMN
“I love – to stare – at you – across the room” intrudes the voice of Jay Treadall over a baggy-ish beat and slightly distorted bleak guitar. Old Manchester (Happy Mondays) meets older Manchester (Joy Division) in this voyeuristic but passionate single from Liverpool. It’s simple but pointed, immediate and obsessional. Nice glow.
‘GMN’ is more electronic, even more immediate and a different kind of bleak. Neon tube crackle and underground paranoia that is dispelled slightly by the piano of reassurance. Spacy, pacy and pretty bloody good.

Popularity: 7% [?]