julian has written the following articles:
Saturated with distorted chic, 'Where's My Place?' is a scratchy-guitared, snake-hipped dance floor delight.»
A couple of fine singles in, some of the buzz settling to hum, now would be a good time for Guillemots to pull out something really special. But second guessing Fyfe and chums is like betting on a cat race. They are not predictable beasts. »
There might not be too many people eagerly counting the days down to Tahiti 80's belated long playing return. But for those of us hoping, finally, for their unashamed statement of schmisco intent, Fosbury is greeted with dancing shoes done up and a suitable space cleared on the living room carpet.»
Yes, Robert Pollard is back, and you didn’t even know he’d been here in the first place. 'I'm A Strong Lion' is less than a minute of surprisingly polished new wave, sounding like a Nick Lowe song that’s been run over by a truck. It’s power pop on a Post-it note. »
Two years ago, The Crimea’s single, ‘Baby Boom’ made number seven in John Peel’s Festive Fifty, out-placing the likes of the White Stripes and Yeah Yeah Yeah’s. In October, ‘Tragedy Rocks’, their first album, was finally released. So what on earth have they been doing with themselves all this time?»
Still under the radar after three and a half towering albums, Richard Hawley is a master of lived in vintage songcraft. It’s a talent that lies somewhere between his hero, Johnny Cash, and his former employers, Pulp. He makes bruised, ordinary real life beautiful. »
The geek shall inherit the earth. They may look like an after school chess club, but The Spinto Band move as one, breathe as one and play as one twelve elbowed, check shirted rock & roll beast.»
Dragging on a cigarette cadged off a member of the audience, Jonathan Rice tells a rambling story about a punch up at a bizarre Christmas dinner in a Hollywood hotel. Then, with everyone still laughing, he draws us into another of his delicately exposed songs. Alone, he is everything you want from your lonely troubadour.»
‘A Place That Glows’ is like a swirly space rock log floom. There are big splashy bits, gentle floaty bits, and it saves the most fun for the end.»
Some songs are not afraid to tell you what they want from you. Chopped out with shameless thunder, ‘Fix The Cracks’ is a sweaty, spiky cheap thrill and it wants to dance. »
If you call an album atmospheric it usually means it’s dull and a bit worthy but has nice guitar effects. But the Ralfe Band are atmospheric like falling asleep half drunk on a train and waking up disorientated in what might be Reading then trying to work out how to get home. If indeed that is a meaning of atmospheric. »
“This human pyramid is dedicated to Superman,” announces Sufjan Stevens as his band, dressed in matching cheerleader outfits, clamber on each other’s backs. He puts down his blow up Superman and they dismount and launch into ‘Metropolis’. This is proper (albeit slightly camp and tongue-in-cheek) showbusiness and it looks like fun.»
Lyrically Tragedy Rocks is as uplifting as a mouse infested bedsit lit by a naked bulb. But for all Davey MacManus' obsession with the seamier end of melancholy, this is an album stuffed with effortlessly hummable hooks and choruses.»
Tom Evans has a voice that embeds itself in your nervous system whether you want it to or not. Equal parts early 70s Rod Stewart and Marge Simpson, its roughened tones surround him with a sense of crushed innocence.»
This is one of those albums that gets described as a “solid debut”. In other words, it’s good but a bit cautious. Stephen Fretwell’s hushed tones, like a ‘Nebraska’ era Springsteen with flat vowels, deliver a guided tour through the museum of classic singer/songwriters.»
“Are you on drugs?” says the sternly bearded Norwegian customs official. “No,” DiS explains, “I’ve only slept an hour and I’m full of coffee. Hence the shakes.” “What are you here in Norway for?” I shudder, “A music festival.” Ping go the blue rubber gloves... our acquaintance doesn’t get as intimate as I fear and I am allowed on my way. If only Pete Doherty had been as lucky...»
"I feel like this: 'YIIIIIHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!'... phew... think I need to sit down." Only sitting down doesn't really seem to be Imogen Heap's thing at the minute. Not content with recording and producing her second solo album Speak For Yourself unassisted, she left her previous label and set up her own one to put it out. Her idea of a relaxing break in the middle of all this was cycling 400km down the length of the Thames for a week. For her, life seems to be a giant exclamation mark.»
There must be covetous glances from Your Vegas when they drive past the Wembley building site. They are a stadium band waiting for a stadium. Though tonight they must settle for a sweaty Water Rats.»
I’m glad it was grey and drizzly when I listened to this. It seems to suit 'Speak for Yourself', which at its best draws you into an intimate and vulnerable atmosphere of “low light mercury mornings”, peering into people’s windows and imagining the lives inside.»
There’s a hoary old cliché when describing bands to say that they play every song/note like it’s the last one they’ll ever play. Milburn, and especially singer Joe Carnall, come much closer to playing every song like it’s their first – enthusiastic, determined and wide-eyed.»
Part alt-blues frontiersman, part home made Sellotaped electro experimenter, Dogme 95 spills out an unsettling musical stream of consciousness from a densely private lo-fi world.»
Some people like to rock. Some people like to roll. Some people like to squeeze out every frustrated emotion in their bodies with a passion bordering on the psychotic, while still looking presentable enough to introduce to your parents. Scott Rinning, nervously skinny, like a baby Elvis Costello, and with a voice six times the size of his body, fits the latter category.»
Angel Milk is an exercise in the fine art of background music. A dextrous display of emotive musical atmospherics, not quite ambient, but not quite a set of songs.»
It is said that there are only two crimes in pop music, to be boring or passé. This is not true. You can sell piles of records comfortably by being both. Especially if your music sounds like it was purpose-built to be used in the background on manly adverts about shaving and driving fast cars.»
It’s hard not to judge everything Cousteau do against ‘Last Good Day Of The Year’. They seem to have been trapped behind its spent melancholy and Bacharach pop classicism ever since. And having lost songwriter Davey Ray Moor too, there’s probably not a collective hush of high expectation surrounding this new single.»
The Golden Republic seem to be all chunky power chords and swooshing energy on their eponymous debut album. But pitched against the “turn it up and rock” swagger, this is a record with a melancholic core.»
The Magic Numbers are warmer and cosier than a cat asleep on a radiator. But behind the matching fringes, shuffling guitars and brother-sister harmonies, ‘Forever Lost’ also has a real beating heart.»
Emiliana Torrini could sing her gas bill and make it sound bruised and lovelorn but bashfully hopeful. It’s almost impossible to describe ‘Heartstopper’ without using the word charming or a near synonym. Luckily, this tale of the little girl lost paddling about the city is perfectly suited to her winsome, fractured tones.»
Ben Folds is in a lucky position. He makes records only for Ben Folds fans. And after ten years he can probably keep going as long as he wants. But while that could make for a very lazy record, ‘Songs For Silverman’ is the most focused LP he's made since Ben Folds Five’s ‘Whatever And Ever Amen’.»
Gledhill have the same producer as Keane, a single on Fierce Panda, stadium filling pop ambition, plonking pianos and synth strings.»
