A limited-edition, mini concept album featuring guest vocals, complete with an illustrated novel? Sounds highly desirous, to say nothing of ambitious – a very definite different direction. So what’s the story behind the story-book, the story behind the new sound?

You couldn't really call it a solo album, although it is definitely Orlando’s project, he says that it was more a chance for him to explore a different vocal style to the one with which he employs in The Maccabees. Third album, Given to the Wild, is the most ethereal Maccabees offering to date; Young Colossus takes those otherworldly atmospherics a notch higher. Or is that lower...? It’s all very sensual, very spooky – opening track 'Franky' sounds out and out haunted.

Really, it's the story of Orlando finding a new voice - almost accidentally - and then finding a way to share that with the world. Everything starts as an experiment:

“I was making some tracks, and pitching my voice differently, and the more I did it the more I almost found myself writing for that voice. And then that voice become a character. And then I found myself writing for the character.”

That character is the Young Colossus, and the album and accompanying artwork tell his tale. It was inspired by rites-of-passage, youthful classics like Labyrinth, The Jungle Book, Never Ending Story and even Peter Pan. But it's all rather abstract, and feels far too playful to have something as serious as a moral, or too tight a structure - a beginning, middle or end. It is very much a creative splurge, a chance to vocally kick-out in different directions:

“The book’s about the experience of the Young Colossus. It's not even as specific as a coming-of-age story, it’s just that all the things I love watching seem to touch on those things.

“It was so lucky. The story really just evolved when we started recording and trying to do proper versions of the demos that I’d made, and trying to choose the strongest songs, and those that were relevant to each other. And I was very happy to just go with that.”

It's highly coincidental that it happened at all – at least in the graphic novel format. Had Orlando not stumbled upon Rob's book, The New Ghost, it might have gone in a very different direction:

“They were songs that felt like they had a story..ish. I didn’t know whether I wanted them to be film or animation or shadow puppets. But it was always going to have some narrative form. As soon as the characters established themselves, it became pretty clear that would help explain the tracks.”

Orlando studied illustration at university and has worked on album artwork projects himself (notably Florence and the Machine’s Lungs) and says that one of the bonuses of working in a creative industry like music is the opportunity for cross-over – that the education he got “wasn’t completely wasted.” And Rob was able to take Orlando’s rough storyboard ideas – literally scribbled onto lined paper – and give them form – to turn his thoughts into something tangible.

“I knew that Rob would be able to take it to the nicest place. He’s got an incredible eye, a really nice illustrative touch, which is quite rare. It just felt exactly right, it was very lucky.”

Luck again: experimentation and playfulness were a big part of the process. Producer Nic Nell is with us and says that the project provided lots of excuses to explore, and to have fun doing it. In fact, the f-word seems to have been a major motivator behind the music:

“I think my favourite voice is the low-pitched voice, and it was pretty fun to be, like, ‘that’s the shadow monster - yes!’ I kind of thought of it as the Easter Island statue heads singing; that sounds fun, let’s get that on the record.

“There's this bit in 'Sleeper'... I can't help but smile every time I hear it. It’s just so fun. An excuse to get to do that is pretty good.”

Indeed, when Orlando and Nic talk, you can tell that they really enjoyed making this together. Having a long history, knowing each other since their art foundation course, they could push each other. And Young Colossus has clearly benefited from this almost brotherly relationship:

“I couldn’t have done any of this without Nic, because Nic was able to see through some very unrealised ideas and help me make them into the final thing. And that was playful at times, and also was a lot of hard work at other times.”

Nic elaborates:

”We'd spend however long recording the guitar parts, and getting the whole take in, and then getting to the end of that and Orlando breaking out, 'Great....now can we make this sound like an organ recorded under water?' And just being like...'yeah?' ”

Orlando gives a lot of credit to his collaborators, and has obviously enjoyed the process: “All the way through I was able to throw out these rough things, and someone with the energy and patience was able to fully realise them. I mean, what an amazing opportunity.”

It was another bit of serendipity that bought Alessi's Ark into the little clan of collaborators: “I remember ages and ages ago, before this was even a twinkle in anyone's eye, our old tour manager had toured with Allessi, and played me some stuff. I'd heard this one song, and I kept coming back to it and thinking how brilliant it was and how extraordinary her voice was. And so we managed to phone Alessi, and she came down - she was incredible.”

Already an established angel of the ethereal, Alessi's vocals sit seamlessly with Orlando's new sound. Nic's going to be doing more stuff with her, and Orlando says he wants to keep Rob around. So, it seems the whole project has been fruitful for everyone involved.

And those that consume the fruits of their labour – the listener, the reader – will find it's a delightful little finished product. Right down to choosing the 'black wires' with the printer (the boys are pleased be able to tell me the industry term for staples), a lot of love has gone into it. You reap what you sow and Orlando and Nic have likewise been delighted to receive emails from all corners of the globe with pictures of people with their copy of 'Young Colossus'. Perhaps because its even happening was so unlikely.

Nic smiles and notes how nice it is to see one in real life when he spots the book in my bag as I pack up - “it was fun even getting to pop down and see the printing. It's like watching a record get pressed”.

They’re proud of it, they’re excited by it - which means you can be excited by it too. What started as a microphone in a Macbook has turned into something that is both a beautiful object and a very touching album. Chance provided the opportunity, and the effort of everyone involved has created something special:

“It's a very lucky thing to have been able to work with the people I've worked with, and to have made something that's just a really nice thing to have. I think, if I wasn't involved in it, I'd be interested in it – that's all you can do.”

While I will admit to a certain cynicism, the fact is that... I pride myself in taking a punch and I'll gladly take another because I choose to live my life in the company of Gandhi and King. My concerns are global. I reject absolutely revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method... is love.

Without wishing to traipse into the questionable world of clairvoyance, it’s probably fair to say that David Lynch wasn’t looking to succinctly surmise the problematic mind of the critic when he wrote that famous speech for every critic’s favourite Twin Peaks character. Nonetheless, in our professional lives at least, we can all share Albert Rosenfield’s view of the world as a beautiful and intriguing place that we love, tempering it with a weariness and cynicism.

Dedicating so much of our time to discovering new music and rediscovering that of the past means that artistic clichés become apparent to – and equally decipherable by – us far more quickly than to those keen to just enjoy the art form rather than analyse and scrutinise it. Beach House’s Teen Dream is barely two-years-old, and already the reverb-drenched record featuring a pretty girl and ethereal guitars isn’t good enough for just being gorgeous. Equally the veteran artist with a vast discography 'rediscovering their roots' is all-too often a euphemistic admission that they’re out of new ideas.

So, following on from a quartet of middlingly-received albums, electronica mainstay Tom Jenkinson – aka Squarepusher – has promised us a return to the pure electronica of his halcyon days with new record Ufabulum. With his recent records being variously derided as slightly flat (Hello Everything) or misguided and self-absorbed (Solo Electric Bass 1), the temptation is to think that this is a last-ditch grasp for glory, a final shot at acclaim when all else has failed.

Following this extended set-up, you’ll be entirely unsurprised when I pull-back-and-reveal that this is far from the case. With such fripperies as live instruments discarded – most notably the bass, Jenkinson’s virtuoso accomplishment on which makes it an easy safety blanket on which to fall back - Ufabulum is a record made more challenging by its self-imposed limitations.

Typically, the album’s strongest track is its opener. ‘4001’ is as gorgeous as (synthesised) drum and bass can get, and as its hypnotic undertones outweigh its jerking, glitching, loud sonic shards it is one of Ufabulum’s occasional accessible – or as close to that as Squarepusher gets – points. Such moments are dotted hither and thither throughout the album; calming plumes of steam venting from the surges and jolts of seemingly relentless electricity born of the eponymous Yorkshire power station in ‘Drax 2’.

In all honesty it’s fortunate that Ufabulum has such moments of respite, for this is about as difficult as non-minimalist electronica gets. It’s coked-up Boards of Canada, as imagined by someone who grew up on free jazz. The second track ‘Unreal Square’, for example, opens with an 8-bit games console melody reminiscent of Granddaddy’s ‘AM 180’ and juxtaposes it with a synthesised bassline (and it’s unfortunate that I write those two words the day after Jerry Seinfeld performed in Manchester) that jerks so hyperactively as to be absurd. Again, I make no claims to have any idea what he’s thinking, but it seems like a sharp barb aimed squarely at anyone who earnestly praised the music of Skrillex.

Much like Jenkinson’s home of Essex, his new album is cold, dark, uninviting, difficult and easily misunderstood (ho ho ho). Nevertheless, it’s something that can be quite brilliant: to paraphrase Special Agent Dale Cooper - Squarepusher’s path is a strange and difficult one.

Embrace pause.

It’s an inviting beat. Somewhere between a march and a dance. The Pied Piper should have bought a drum kit instead of one of those cheap-ass magic pipes you can get down the market for a quid. This is definitely the beat that he’d have used to distract the city rats from their determined efforts to get inside people’s cavity walls and under their bathtubs. You hear the beat, you turn and follow. It ushers in a gentle howl of controlled feedback. And so Specters begins. It’s a concise lesson in how to convert an expectant crowd on first listen.

Once lured in. it is an album of brevities. Every time a song feels as though it’s on the tipping point of becoming a drawn-out, grandiose jam, it’s clipped, with perfect timing. Too much of a good thing becomes a gross thing; we know this. It’s like having your dinner taken away from you at the crucial moment that hunger turns to greed; you quickly learn to savour the taste. As each plate is carefully withdrawn, there is no more gorging on layers of sound. There’s no space for over-indulgence here; just the whispering, confident ambition that Wu (formerly of This Et Al) has brought with him to Stalking Horse.

Specters is also an album of variety. It may not be immediately apparent, as Wu’s voice is a commanding common thread that binds the various components of Stalking Horse. But mid-way through the experience, the piano-led ‘Mistress’ begins, lending the album an altogether lighter feel. It’s a highlight of the album, too, playing into the operatic tendencies of Specters. As Wu sings “there’s no food on the table / you’re laughing at his bedside manner” in his strangled, emotive falsetto, he conjures a gothic scene, begging for a dramatic stage play to soundtrack. This is the beauty of Stalking Horse’s debut; each track encapsulates a mood, tells a story and does so thoughtfully, deftly, with an artistry that is equal parts considered, eloquent and inspired. The mood of each track is treated delicately. Wu gives the story as much space as the sound, reigning in his distinctive vocal when it threatens to overwhelm, tempered with delicate piano riffs, haunting guitar lines, subtle, cushioned percussion.

Wu’s last band This Et Al were somewhat overshadowed by the dross that inevitably rises to the top when a city’s musical wealth gets plundered by those in search of a marketing plan. The voracious feasting on Leeds’ music, which occurred in the mid-Noughties may have left a bitter taste in Wu’s mouth, but it seems to have freed up other creative avenues; there’s a lightness of touch, here, a playful streak and a determined ebullience that marks Specters with a seal of quality. Now that he’s gathered up old comrades and cohorts (members of This et Al, These Monsters and Grammatics amongst them), Stalking Horse appears to be the sound of a man capitalising on healed wounds and a fresh self-sufficiency.

So Still Flyin’ are a party band. Their debut show was as a 15 member plus reggae band. The good times that the band partied out on stage saw them tour Europe with a debut album (Never Gonna Touch The Ground) and find themselves associated with other sunshine troupes such as Architecture in Helsinki and The Polyphonic Spree.

For album two it all starts to get serious again. From A Bedroom Wall paints a glorious colour wheel of day-glo neon pop sounds and melancholy melodies. There’s enough interesting, Eighties influenced, sounds to be ‘on trend’ (even to be a sincere homage to the era), whilst the vocals have the hurt inflection of Jens Lekman. It’s the perfect mesh.

As it opens with ‘Elsie Dormer’ the prolonged build before a word is pronounced gives an ascent to warrant New Order comparisons and euphoric dance gestures.

First single ‘Travelling Man’ is a literal expression of the push and pull of stretching for success without wanting to unearth the foundations: “Lord I was born a travelling man/Half of me is good, the other sad. This waiting in silence, we’ve lost our springtime/This standing on one leg, feels like a lifetime.” There’s anguish aplenty, supported by twinkled keyboard lines before the chorus sprints into emphasised drum triplets and ghostly backing vocals. Female harmonies (provided by Sean’s wife and fellow band member Mindy Schweitzer-Rawls) add a playful boy-girl interexchange, even as the melodies twist in insecurity.

‘Big Trouble In Little Alabama’ is overt joy whilst current single ‘Spirits’ (apparently recorded for a delayed/binned horror flick) threads a series of keyboard and guitar riffs under Rawlins’s decrees of “One ghost is not enough… You want to see the world/Without touching it,” whilst sounding not unlike David Byrne. As he outlines his rationale for haunting as a pair in an act of love, his constant stretching toward the unreachable again surfaces.

There are overt reggae moments of old and much of the bass lines and rhythms, though more motorik, still bounce across octaves and swing. On A Bedroom Wall is an album founded upon European insecurity and masked with American good time vibes for balance. Its impact is its conflicts and depth of emotion, akin to Metronomy’s Nights Out or even the way Morrissey made sarcasm a form of terrace poetry (the Morrissey-Orange Juice style mesh in ‘Camouflage Detection’ is musically perfect). Rawlins and his assembled musicians are masters of exploring conflict and On A Bedroom Wall makes clear that the party is once more over, the come down has painfully dawned and the struggle is on display for all to hear.

This album may not be bigger than its predecessors, but hopefully Rawlins he may get enough attention to send him on the road again.

With an album as touching as this, we’re put in his predicament; attempt to build on something that may indeed be unsurpassable or leave it behind and try something else with all the energy of a new project. On A Bedroom Wall is a work of music that won’t be matched this year for its pained beauty.

Single of the Week!

Here We Go Magic - ‘How Do I Know’ (Secretly Canadian)

‘How Do I Know’ is infectiously plotted, it has the sort of urgent tempo, quietly chugging bassline and itchy keyboard lines that put you in mind of blinking strobes. And in a way, it is all quite neat – the feverish pace of the single matching the slight air of desperation in the lyrics, with Luke Temple asking again, and again, ‘How do I know…if you love me?’ What I like about this single is that although, in theory, it sounds quite sweet, trilling happily along, a shiny sort of car song – in actual fact it is really quite mental, the swan song of a man who is permanently unsure of himself, tugging on the sleeve of his love, constantly after reassurance. And so, not really a love song at all.

Dan Sartain - ‘I’m Aware’ (One Little Indian)

‘I’m Aware’ is Dan Sartain doing his Dan Sartain thing. Which is to say; here is another swift and seamless, rousing garage rock smash. In the totalitarian dystopia of my punk dreams, every morning’s state-sponsored, compulsory star-jump workout would be done to a song like this.

Alt-J - ‘Breezeblocks’ (Infectious Music)

There is much to admire in ‘Breezeblocks’ - not least the toy piano that punctuates the verses, stabbed down in fours, which provide a jolly counterpoint to the inherent creepiness of lines like ‘She may contain the urge to run away, but hold her down with soggy clothes and breeze blocks.’ On the downside, there is - as is the law these days - a couple doing a lot of (beautifully photographed), (slow-motion) violence to each other in the video, which is a tiny bit distracting. Especially if by ‘distracting’ you also mean ‘worrisome’ or 'not this again' (which I do). There’s also something a tiny bit worrrrrr-kooky about his vocal delivery - a few quirksome wobbles too many. But that's a nit-pick, and ‘Breezeblocks’ is still impressive, intricate.

Hooded Fang - ‘Tosta Mista’ (Full Time Hobby)

I don’t know what in the name of arse ‘I’ve been wandering round this place like a gypsy gnome’ is meant to mean but I’m not sure I mind, because ‘Tosta Mista’ is so amiable. It’s goofy and it’s stuck in the olden days of yore like it had 1962 super-glued to its patootie. But in a good way; the kind of single that needs a dance craze to go with it.

The School - ‘Never Thought I’d See The Day’ (Elefant)

If you stare at a word or think about a thing for too long, you can break your brain. But that doesn’t stop me wanting to ask God how a band like The School can still happen, in a world that also contains Goatse. I long for the tweebotomy that would make me appreciate music this guileless. These people are so innocent and happy I want to put them in a zoo.

White Fence - ‘Green Balloon’ (SexBeat)

‘Green Balloon’ is some psychedelic wigging out from Him out of the Strange Boys and Darker My Love. And it is so loosely constructed you fear for its collapse, each chord being permanently on the brink of shonk; de-tuned as if White Fence's twang was melting. Singles this wobbly-spined always make me wonder if it is music designed to be indistinct – or whether its wibble has been arrived at, after a lot of careful play. Or worse, if Tim Presley simply tosses off some artful shonk in one of his jam sessions, says ‘that’ll do’, and then goes back to telling bloggers how he is inspired by ‘Any poetry written by women that have killed themselves’ here. Suicide! So meaningful, man.

Mac Demarco - ‘Only You’ (Captured Tracks)

Mac Demarco have the creepiest video this week because in one bit of it, a man (and very possibly, one of Mac Demarco) puts his wang between his legs so it looks like he hasn’t got one. Dear All Men, I know this amuses the heck out of you, but having been on the receiving end of 'quite a few' shoulder taps that resulted in a surprise display of this nature, can I also tell you that once done - once dropped with glee into a brain, oh ha ha ha - it is etched FOREVER.

Laurel Collective - ‘Fax Of Death’ (Tape Club Records)

How People In Music view Having A Real Job In An Office is a source of continual amusement for me - mainly because before writing about music for money I spent a lifetime in them, organizing and photocopying and bossing about spreadsheets. For a while, I had to hold back my tongue when a.n.other musician told me, in an interview, how he or she ‘could never work in an office’. You know, as if it were a sheer impossibility; their soul simply too special, too rare, for anything so prosaic as real life. Anyway, ‘indie’ is forever setting videos in pretend offices - musicians love to faff about in what they think the grown-ups wear to work, wafting their hands in front of flipcharts, smirking, and nodding around meeting room tables, just like actual business men. Mostly, of course, it is done for jokes – as here, in the amusing Fisher Price office of Laurel Collective’s video. But disappointingly ‘Fax Of Death’ does not contain a telex machine that spews red like the lifts in The Shining.

Crybaby - ‘When The Lights Go Out’ (Helium Records)

I am in favour of croon, and welcome 'height' as an aspirational quality in men’s haircuts, even if it means certain men in footer now have a quiff and think that this - armed with one Smiths Best Of and access to Brainy Quotes dot com - automatically makes them interesting. So here are Crybaby, no doubt named (I’m not checking, don't make me check) after the John Waters film and on whose single the word ‘linoleum’ is sung with more ache than a triathlete’s thighs. It is a single that is being sung in front of a multi-coloured, glittery-strip curtain, yes, yes it is. It’s got the words ‘kitten heel’ and ‘velveteen’ on it, yes, yes it has. But it manages to get away with these things – just – and doesn’t fall over the precipice into kitsch, mainly because Danny Coughlan has a super set of pipes.

Human Don’t Be Angry - ‘1985’ (Chemical Underground)

I was excited about ‘1985’ at first, because it is one of those songs that hacks at a vocal performance with scissors and then rearranges each part to a new staccato purpose, using stereo to make each lone syllable more distinct. But ‘1985’ is a bit all intro, no chorus; a big tarty tease that is all build-up and no punchline. No wonder it unravels at the end.

Also out this Week!

Rowdy Superstar - ‘Look Into The Light’ (Accidental Records)
This Many Boyfriends - ‘(I Should Be A) Communist’ (Angular)
Baio feat. Matias Aguayo - ‘Sunburn’ EP (Greco Roman)
Of Monsters And Men - ‘Dirty Paws’ (Island)
Odonis Odonis - ‘Busted Lip’ (Fat Cat)
White Rabbits - ‘Temporary’ (Mute)
The Pond - ‘Circle Round A Tree’ (One Little Indian)
Buraka Som Sistema - ‘Tire O Pé’ (Enchufads)
Gaggle - ‘Army Of Birds’ (Transgressive)
Ladyhawke - ‘Sunday Drive’ (Modular)
Olympians - ‘The Dictionary’ (Barely Regal)
Ben Kweller - ‘Jealous Girl’ (The Noise Company)
Hundreds - ‘Happy Virus’ (Muri Records)
Say Anything - ‘Say Anything’ (Equal Vision Records)
Southern - ‘Where The Wild Are’
Ex Senators - ‘Start A Fight’ (Heatshield Records)
ON/AIR - ‘Own Up’
Savoir Adore - ‘Dreamers’ EP (Neon Gold)
I Dream In Colour - ‘London’
Dinowalrus - ‘Beth Steel’ (Heist Or Hit Records)
XLII - ‘Neon High’ EP (Civil Music)
The Coronas - ‘Addicted To Progress’ (Lix Records)
Niko - ‘You’re So Boring’ (Atic Records)
Left Of Manila - ‘Coast’ EP
TV Buddhas - ‘Band In The Modern World’ EP (Trost Records)
We Are Augustines - ‘Juarez’ (Oxcart Records)
Major Look - ‘Never Hold Us Back’ (Cold Blooded Recordings)
Error Operator - ‘Mstblove’ (EarFOOD Recordings)







Wendy is on the internet, here. If you are wondering what happened to last week's column then you should know it was going to be done by someone else while I was poncing it up in Biarritz. But then they got hauled off to Cannes, so don't let anyone ever tell you journalism cannot be ritzy.

Gourock (April 11th)

Andy: Today felt less like the beginning of a tour and more like a day trip to the coast with the lads. In Gourock, the first stop on our Highlands tour, I had what I can only hope is my first of many local delicacies on this tour; Fish ‘n’ Chips. Bloody great fish and chips they were too, supplied by Cafe Continental. You should stop by if you head this way. I love holidays.

Perth (April 12th)

Andy: For research purposes (for this guide), I headed to check out the "fun" fair that's set up on the edge of the big park, just down from the venue. My girlfriend spotted a big cuddly sloth in the grabber game thing and I lost about a fiver trying to lift the wee guy out of his brightly illuminated cage. Idiot. I can't say I'd recommend a visit to this place unless the idea of having a giant sloth is worth a lot to you or you like feeling harassed by a middle-aged witch who's trying to get you to play the "Grab a Duck With A Stick On A Hook And Win A Tiny Prize" game. Next time I'll be going straight for a stroll along the river. I found only but nice witches there.

Forres (April 13th )

Grant: As I am told by forresweb.net, all parking in Forres is free and well sign-posted, so wherever you go you shouldn't need change, nor should you need to run back to the car mid-ice cream to top up the meter and lose the rest of your mint choc chip sundae to a hungry toddler relative!! Since the gig tonight is not actually in Forres this short guide may not be of great use. The gig however is located in a place called The Loft at East Grange - an adventure holiday location offering quad biking, biathlon (shooting and running I think) and shots so cheap that all 120 people at the show did not stop screaming until we'd played almost every FR song!! For any bands reading this there is a ball pool in the dressing room. However it is for kids only so don't get too excited! eastgrange.co.uk

Ullapool (14th April)

Scott: Well, I will say this - if you like playing music concerts to a sober and attentive audience, scratch Ullapool from your 'to do' list immediately. However, if you plan on getting right pissed up and then being HYPNOTIZED BY A 17 YEAR OLD EUNUCH, then this place is perfect for you. I can't talk about our visit to Ullapool without mentioning the fact that a mysterious young lad, apparently on holiday with his parents, hypnotized some of our group to within an inch of thinking their name was 'Mary'. The Great Appletini, as Gordon christened him, was an absolute whizz at the old mind control, and kept us all thoroughly entertained into the wee small hours. For all I know, he may still be in the corner of that hotel foyer, pretending to be using his iPad. Don't look him directly in the eye. Or anyone in Ullapool for that matter.

Mull (April 15th)

Grant: This was my second time here on Mull. I had been once before on a family holiday when I was about 9, so I'll be drawing on some of my previous experiences for this one too! The gig was in Tobermory which is a ridiculously beautiful little town on the North East coast of the island. Yes it's the one with the coloured houses used in a TV show popular with children and students. When in Tobermory make sure to take in the distillery, which I did when I was 9. It wasn't much fun back then; I was 9 and have sensible parents so couldn't really take full advantage. We were however given a bottle at the venue today and it's a lovely wee dram! I also can't recommend enough that if you make the trip from the mainland to Mull that you go on to make the trip from Mull to Iona (an island off the South West coast). The beaches boast pure white sand and clear blue sea which in photos could be mistaken for somewhere tropical (or at least a bit warmer).

Aviemore (April 18th)

Andy: The Old Bridge Inn, this evening’s venue, is my top tip for Aviemore. They bring a great variety of live acts to this part of Scotland and the layout is ideal for an intimate gig or a rowdy knees-up. Plus the food is great! If you don't like booze, food or music there's also plenty of hills you can bugger off over and find something you do like.

Stornoway (April 19th)

Grant: Go to a butcher shop and buy some black pudding. That is all. Buy some dried blood and oats. You will not be disappointed! Well you might be disappointed if you don't like the thought of eating dried pigs blood but if you do then this is the place to try it! Also Andy bought a suit and assures me the charity shops are second to none here!

Portree (April 20th)

Andy: As has become somewhat of a daily feeling, I'm overwhelmed by the landscapes in front of me. The view from the beach in Portree at the harbour is pretty amazing. That is, whenever the sun is poking is wee shy face through the clouds. I took a quick wander around town; it took about 5 minutes. Checked out some dead people’s old things in these shops full of random stuff, bought a blueberry beer from the brewery shop and stared out a few crabs from the pier. "The Cafe" is a local favourite; it has a very modest name as it serves up some real culinary delights over the course of the day. I'd recommend the OTT flamboyant ice cream sundae locally known as a ‘milkshake’ and if you're into mussels you'll be pleasantly surprised with their fucking massive portions. I'd also recommend "The Isles" for a late night drinking spot - the barman stops selling pints a good hour before the place shuts, however he'll happily give you anything in a short glass.

Dunoon (22nd April)

Scott: Alas, Dunoon didn't come up trumps in the eunuch hypnotist stakes, but proved to be a lovely wee town on the Clyde. You'll wish you had a boat though, as the water is certainly calmer than the area we turned up in. Folk were getting nice and steaming all over the place, which is not necessarily a bad thing. You'd think from this travelogue that all Scotland had to offer was opportunities to drink. This is correct, and if I'm honest, there's nowt wrong with that. On this, the last night of the tour, we all agreed that our appreciation for the country in which we were born had grown immeasurably. Dunoon was a lovely wee nightcap to a wonderful journey. It's not just the landscape that's inspiring, it's the folks who live in it. Well done Scotland!

PHOTOS

Seeing double in Gourock

Popped into Moray Firth Radio for a wee session

Pics from the stage in forres. Really enjoying Gordons solo face!

Gordon ponders out over Loch Broom

The lads get called back to work after a session skimming stones in the sea

It's not too often that alternative music throws up choruses like “I am, I am, I am a god-damn believer” with po faced sincerity, and it's even less often that such present-age spiritualism then goes on to stick the landing. But being recorded with an undersold, organic quality, these incredibly rendered and frequently beautiful songs breathe comfortably while engaging with the traditions they stem from – a sense of natural performance and responsive musicianship showcasing the heart and soul of Spx's music to stunning effect.

When I first saw the title for this album, I internally misread it as I Predict A Graceful Explosion rather than ...Expulsion. Although the similarity between the two words is probably coincidental, the easily mistaken reading provides a reflection of the album's nature: something which seems at first glance to be going for bombast and drama (explosion), but in actuality feeds off understatement and anticlimactic restraint (expulsion). Indeed, Cold Specks offers a very similar sort of fraught build-and-release – with the far stronger emphasis on build, rather than release – as artists like The National and their offshoots. But while The National are becoming more and more willing to deliver on the tension they create, unleashing themselves in juggernauts like 'Terrible Love' or 'Fake Empire', Cold Specks deftly keep these pay-offs at arm's length, to brilliant effect. Tracks like 'Steady' really push the 'build' half of the equation as close to the brink of 'release' as it feels possible to go – with its threatening stabs of staccato rhythm and wrought strings ramping up in intensity across its back half – but never actually erupts into the stadium sized bombast it promises.

Not that this constant undercutting of its own tension is a bad thing. On the contrary - it's one of Cold Specks' greatest strengths. The album's beautiful paradox of being able to sound powerful as well as delicate turns our attention away from the explosion/expulsion confusion and towards the more important word in the title: graceful. There's no better adjective for this spellbinding debut. As swathes of gospel singers, rich horns and overwrought strings frequently swoop in to elevate these songs' tight refrains, they always do so with grace rather than pomp – never overshadowing the glistening centres of these songs which are the the warmly finger-picked guitar patterns and Spx's enchanting vocal (a truly gorgeous instrument, tinged with youth and soul in equal measure).

Without question, songs like 'Holland' and 'Winter Solace' were robust vehicles to begin with, and Spx's goosepimpiling delivery alone would have been more than enough to distinguish them from the chaff of the fading nu-folk movement. That being the case, it's even more of a treat and a wonder that the translation from performance to recording has been so deftly executed – adding power and beauty to these songs with the luscious arrangements, but not pulling focus from Spx's deserved centrality nor diluting the soul of the songs either. Effortlessly straddling the human and the mystical in a similar way to Anais Mitchell earlier this year, Cold Specks has created an arrestingly beautiful collection which gains as much strength from its understatement and humility as it does its high-aiming grandeur. It's not just that clichéd 'promising debut', but the real thing already realised. Boasting the talents and a depth of spirit of an artist twice her age, I Predict A Graceful Expulsion is a majestic powerhouse of a career starter.

The move from the happy, carefree pop of the nation’s favourite cheeky chappies to the more sombre, reflective and darker material of Supergrass’s later years is continued. It's evidenced in particular by opener ‘Bombs’, a song that began life as a poem after Gaz had been watching new reports from Libya. It’s an impressive piece, opening with a sparse, rolling electronic beat, mellotron and drone before textures are added, with strings in particular lending the track a cinematic feel. The familiar raspy texture to Gaz’s vocals are sanded down here, as he sings of sleeping ghosts, the casualties of war, waking up. We move into more familiar territory with ‘Hot Fruit’, the album’s first single; some of the raspiness returns, along with a fairly meaty riff and guitars played with real urgency.

Throughout the record Coombes combines the safe and assured with the more experimental, whether that be chord progressions, time signatures, or musical styles; staccato beats from a drum machine are juxtaposed with acoustic guitars, electronic burbles, or just good old rock riffs with distortion turned up to maximum. Coombe’s voice also flits from the mellifluous to its more familiar gravelly tone, but is always at its best when cajoling, conniving and enticing.

Essentially, the mutton chopped wonder has pulled off quite a clever trick; deploying enough of the Supergrass sound to keep the die-hard fans happy, but also mixing in sufficient experimentation to keep things fresh and interesting. That said, after repeated listens the veil of substance is lifted somewhat; ultimately the riffs and hooks aren’t up to the standard of previous Coombes-led outings, and whilst the textured soundscapes can help disguise this slightly the reality is that the majority of this record, whilst occasionally interesting and certainly surprising, is just… a little boring.

Having started touring at just 16 years of age with The Jennifers (also featuring Danny Goffey), Here Come The Bombs is the latest instalment in a 20-year career for Gaz, and whilst not up there with some of the belters from his Oxford outfit, it’s an interesting listen and worthwhile endeavour; in the event of future releases under his own name, it would be interesting to see what he would be capable of were he to really take the experimental bull by the horns. At the very least it will hopefully be enough of a success to help tide him over until the inevitable Supergrass reunion, saving all us from the awkwardness of another Toyota Yaris advert.

This Brooklyn four-piece, then – centred around founding bandmates Devon Church and Aleksa Palladino – have made an evocative choice in nomenclature, suggesting that theirs is the music to end stories, to accompany the completion of an emotional (one way or the other) journey. It’s clear from the start of debut album Passage that they’re striving for the epic, the panoramic, the intransient – what ambition! At times they manage it, like in the opening title-track when the surround-sound of shimmering guitars and echoing percussion swells at the very moment Palladino’s vocals rise for the line, “You’re so in-credible”, his voice cracking all along the last drawn-out syllable. Or when the lone guitar in ‘The City’ suddenly collides with a wall of stormy noise, like a forest of towers crashing together.

But too often they don’t quite get there. In mid-album numbers, ‘Storms’ and ‘The Wanting’, the multi-track layering, embellished with thick coats of reverb and delay (courtesy of Deerhunter mixer Nicholas Vernhes), doesn’t disguise the fact that the central melodies are fairly basic. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Not to paint a misleading picture – when the vocals are soaring, top-of-the-lungs fare, practically screamed, the distortion works a treat. What’s more, Palladino’s voice has much in common with Zola Jesus, who also frequently uses heavily distorted vocals. It’s just that when she hushes in with her unmuddied “ah-ahs” at the close of ‘The Modern Age’, I sense that there’s an unaffected, distinct vocal talent hidden here, and I want to hear more of it, up close and personal, like.

Driving home that point is penultimate track, ‘The Cold’, where Palladino’s voice rings clearer than usual (though the words are still largely indecipherable), filling a dark, Spartan moonscape. It’s almost operatic – completely devastated, roaring with unrestrained woe.

What films would these ten songs close, then? They wouldn’t be epic in the classical sense like Gone With The Wind or Spartacus; or in the postmodern dystopian manner of Blade Runner. No, I’m thinking they suit best the epic melodrama of certain indie films, especially those that aim high, but are essentially a little frivolous – you know, there’s some quirky guy who likes a quirky girl, and they have lots of quirky dialogue, and then there’s the bittersweet ending, and it’s meant to be an exquisite work of art. Like many such films (they exist, right?), Passage is endearing, with unforgettable peaks; it looks beautiful at first glance, and has no shortage of beautiful moments, but don’t delve too deeply lest the mirage of a grandiose masterpiece dissolve.

Following the successful recent reissues of McCartney, McCartney II, RAM is the latest album from Paul’s iconic back catalogue to get the deluxe Paul McCartney Archive Collection treatment.

RAM, originally released in May of 1971, is the only album to be credited to both Paul and Linda McCartney and was his second post-Beatles LP. Written by Paul and Linda, mostly at their Scottish farm on the Mull of Kintyre, it was overshadowed at the time by the drama of the dissolution of The Beatles, as it played out in the world’s media.

"[The songs] were very influenced by what we were doing. We were living away from the city - we were on a farm - and it was great, because both of us had been city dwellers for so long, but both of us loved nature, so the idea of getting out in the country was very attractive. It was really good to be able to see if we could exist on our own without all the infrastructure of the city around us. So, you know, you'll find me mowing a field on my tractor, or shearing the sheep with old-fashioned hand shears... It was like a challenge. I'll tell you what, after a day of sheep-shearing you were completely knackered! It was a huge change in our life. So [...] it was just natural that we would do everything together."

The reissue of RAM is released on May 21st. The Deluxe Edition Box Set includes a 112-page book, photo prints, handwritten lyrics and notes, four CDs and a bonus film DVD.